#three fates aesthetic

[fine-arts-gallery]

The Three Fates (1910) by Alexander Rothaug.

[claire-starsword]

Authentic Story of the Shining Force - Saint Fencer Max - Chapter 4

Translation notes:

This is the last boob joke. We're free at last.

Here's the retranslation of every scene with the Spring of Recollection in the game. Overall, her speech here is fairly close to what she says in Waral in-game, with a few details from her final appearance sprinkled in, like her care for Cain. It does misses a few nuances though, like the Legacy being more than just Dark Dragon.

I don't think I've ever seen art of the Spring, but notably, she gets a portrait in the GBA version, and it looks a lot like the manga design, with the slightly wavy hair and especially the blank eyes.

Obviously, the manga rushes through the plot since it's short, thus a lot of places are skipped. I didn't even feel like pointing them out before. However I will point out Waral not being here this time, because Waral happens to not be in the beta map either, and it has very contradicting lore between the ASCII guide and the World Book, meaning it might have not been well developed. Besides, Chapter 5 is very weirdly structured. You get two ship battles that are basically the same, you get to Waral by accident, you advance the plot by going to Ring Reef for no reason and everyone telling you it's off-limits while letting you waltz in anyway, and hardly anything happens in the shrine besides you hearing about the Manual, which is not even a big deal because you get to Rudo by accident later (two ship accidents!! why repeat this plot point!!) and would go to Dragonia anyway to help Bleu. Basically, I obviously can't prove it, but it wouldn't surprise me if the ocean shrine was initially thought off as only a plot scene, and the battles/town added much later for gameplay reasons.

Perhaps worth mentioning, the GBA version also makes a point to mention that Max got lost in the shrine alone, and everyone was worried about him, which does remind me a lot of the ship scene here.

uh oh. i hit image limit for the first time and i don't wanna remove either of these pics. more notes on a reblog later.

[shouta-edits]

"Can I get a moodboard for Lysthea (FETH) x Forrest (FE Fates). Themes would be being a femboy (and proud of it), proving people wrong, magic/dark magic, sweets and medieval dresses. Any colors are ok! Tho i'd prefer if they were on the characters. " -anon requested

[steppingxstones]

“Fateful” D&D oc aesthetics • Darwin

Lawful Good • Triton • Warlock

[tenuuchlegch]

tag drop!

[theminecraftbee]

it's fun because the things that appeal to me most about the three canonical evil clones/twins of hermitcraft are similar, but they're all different.

evil x appeals to me because he is very much Just Some Guy, for all that he's an evil force of nature; when he's sympathetic, it's because he's Just Some Guy who's been shackled to the terrible fate of being "evil", but when he's a villain (like in season eight!), the things that make him villainous also aren't the supernatural aesthetics, but the ways he is also the evil of being just some guy. for all the lightning and thunder and echo of xisuma's appearance, he isn't anyone special. (xisuma is.)

helsknight appeals to me for almost the opposite reason: this isn't just some guy, this is you, explicitly, a demon that possessed your clone and possesses all the things that are bad about you, magnified. he's a mirror, inherently, in his very creation. in the stories where he's a threat, he's menacing because he's a mirror of someone we should like; in the stories where he's sympathetic, we must confront how much of ourselves are also mirrors. (what happens if you don't like what you see in those mirrors, anyway?)

empires!false is somewhere in-between; she's not a mirror but she is the result. she's learning something you'd rather have forgotten about your past, and at her most sympathetic, we feel for the way she's been cast aside so false can 'fix her', the things done to her memory. at her least sympathetic, though, she's reflecting these pains onto others; violence begets violence, and even with it missing, the past begets her. there's no looking at empires!false without seeing the echoes of what false did to her. (there's no looking at false without it either.)

............then they also all appeal to me by being ridiculous failguys but like if you want to be DRAMATIC ABOUT IT, the ways they appeal to me are like the above,

[violetasteracademic]

I saw someone say they don't like Elriel simply because Azriel and Elain don't do it for them as a couple. They just aren't into the emo boy/flower girl dynamic. And truth be told? That's the most respectable anti take I've ever heard. Because there is no right or wrong, there's no points to argue. It's just like, hey, I see it, and I don't like it. Which is kind of how I feel about G*wynriel and E*lucien as well. So it's genuinely just a really fair and uncomplicated take.

I simply *don't like* forced proximity with the person that has already been assigned to you and eventually falling in love with them, then realizing it's for the best anyways because it will solve a bunch of conflicts as much as I *like* fuck fate and fuck politics and fuck the Gods, you are the person I want and I will burn the whole world down to be with you. If it goes against every rule, if it puts us in the front line of every danger, and tears at the very fabric of society, it still will be you for me and I'll do whatever it takes.

And that's just vibes, there's really not much more to say!

I *don't like* I was completely obsessed with two different women, but after being rejected by both of them I finally realized, thank goodness! I've had a mate this whole time! And I saved her from being r*ped by a bunch more men than just one years ago and then trained with her every day and now that I'm finally free of being in love with other women, I finally have noticed what is right in front of me as much as I *like* your mate is sleeping upstairs and if he catches us he will have every right to demand I fight to the death over you but I literally can't stop wanting you and needing you and questioning fate because I don't understand how we aren't meant to be together.

I know for a fact I won't like a G*wynriel or E*lucien book *as much* as Elriel because I have read those sorts of similar vibes or comparable plot points before, and it's just like, meh. Not for me. My least favorite trope is the guy who suddenly realizes his best gal pal is the one he should have been into all along after only going for beautiful women he thought were way out of his league. That's not romantic to me at all. But I respect that it is to others. I think it's perfectly okay to simply vibe with different things.

Do I think the books are quite clearly headed towards Elriel? Absolutely. But I think even if they weren't, I'd be crack shipping them anyways because I absolutely love what they have to offer plot, story, tone, aesthetic, style, and romance wise. They are the full package for me. Feysand was a full package for me. Nessian isn't my usual style or favorite trope or vibe, but I still enjoyed the hell out of it.

I think Sarah has given the sisters really distinct personalities and completely individual storylines. I personally still love every book. I adored ACOSF. Buuuuut I don't really need it rewritten a second time in a different font, which is what I think G*wynriel would be. Minus all of the "it's been you since the moment I laid eyes on you" swoon worthiness that I loved for Nesta and Cassian and introducing the "I can't believe I didn't notice my own mate standing right next to me and being harmed and put in mortal danger repeatedly for three years because I was in love with other women" element.

But ACOSF is polarizing. I've seen people say it is either objectively the best book Sarah has ever written, or objectively the worst.

Elain is a unique sister, with a personality and powers that could not be more different from Feyre and Nesta. Everything about her book is not going to match what we have seen in the series so far. And I think that's a GOOD thing. ACOSF was a tone shift, and I think Elain's book will be a tone shift. But I think her book is probably going to be polarizing as well. And it will likely be my favorite.

Although the fandom has gotten a bit aggressive, I think it's really cool that people found their favorite in Nesta and ACOSF in a way that is really kind of deep and specific. I think Elain and Elriel will be that for me. That's what books are supposed to do. Humanity is not one size fits all. It makes perfect sense that people locked into Nessian (or just Nesta) in a way they didn't with Feyre/Feysand. And although there's a crop of anti ic people out there now, Feysand will always be a crowd pleaser. So I'm just hoping the girlies who get it will have their chance to connect that deeply with Elriel too!

I love each Archeron sister, and I for one love how different they are. I appreciate their stories for different reasons. But I am ACHING for Elain and Azriel to lean into their vibes and continue on their journey of questioning the system and deconstructing religion and battling the obstacles in their way. That will always be more interesting and way sexier and peak romance to me and will undoubtedly take spot number 1 in my heart.

[blowingoffsteam2]

Kingdom Key D and Sora's Heart

Gonna paste some thoughts about Kingdom Key D that struck me last night:

Ok so on the topic of KKD being Sora’s true keyblade aka the one made from his heart (as KKL is made from Riku’s) it just struck me that in kh3 Mickey tells Yen Sid that his keyblade-kkd- was damaged in the realm of darkness along with Way to Dawn breaking in half.

Now we already know the theory that Way to Dawn actually broke during Riku’s sacrifice in the first unseen timeline, lining up with the “drop point” when Riku gets swallowed up by the demon tide in the RoD… but if kkd is made of Sora’s heart and what I suspect about Sora’s heart breaking or being damaged in some way during Riku’s sacrifice in the first timeline…That would perfectly explain why kkd randomly gets “damaged” despite them not even showing it to us and quickly glossing over it!

Think about it. Before kh3 we never even knew keyblades getting broken or damaged was a possibility- because keyblades are extensions of a person’s heart not a truly “physical” object. The only other time we’ve seen a keyblade actually be broken was in recoded when Maleficent breaks data Sora’s keyblade. And the ONLY reason she is able to do this, as explained, is because that keyblade was just a data imitation, it wasn’t tied to a real heart. Until Data Sora gets a heart of his own.

Keyblades don’t just break or get damaged because they get hit by a strong heartless. Sora and Riku have faced stronger enemies that small demon tide plenty of times. No. Keyblades only become damaged if the heart they are extension of become damaged. That has to be it.

The way Mickey says this and it’s just completely glossed over. Why would they even bother having KKD getting damaged and replaced when it’s an iconic keyblade and they don’t even SHOW the damage. It makes no sense... unless it’s planting a seed. Something to come back to with new context. Rather than getting a full replacement Mickey seemingly fuses KKD with Star Seeker, his bbs keyblade, in order to repair it.

This is also the first time we’ve seen this type of fusion of keyblades, again with zero explanation or showing it happening on screen. Star Seeker also happens to be the keyblade Sora gets with his first drive form, Valor form…

The fusion keyblade is called Star Cluster, and also apparently in jp it is “Kingdom Key W” (what does the W stand for??) The Star/Galaxy aesthetic also reminds me of that starry space in ReMind where Sora connects constellations…

Other things:

Apparently in Japanese the letter W is very commonly used as an idiogram for "Double" or "Two". This would make sense for a fusion keyblade like Kingdom Key W. Other ideas that were suggested: W for Waking, W for the "Win" timeline (as the previous timeline was fated to be lost to darkness). It's possible it has multiple meanings.

2. “Only King Mickey can open a door to the realm of darkness. It’s because he has a special Keyblade of Darkness. He figured out how to make it open the way.”

As stated in the kh3 glossary there are only three ways to enter the realm of darkness voluntarily: Beings of darkness have the power to open paths to it, a special keyblade of darkness (of which I believe KKD is the only known example- Nomura has explained that it doesn't mean that the keyblade's nature is dark or evil, only that it's a key that works on doors to/from the RoD), and the power of waking (which Sora uses to reach Riku).

I just think it's interesting if KKD is made from Sora's heart it just so happens to be this special keyblade of darkness. It's a complete mystery as to why KKD was just sitting there on the dark side of Destiny Islands. Mickey seems to know that it's a counterpart to KKL and that it would appear where KKL appeared....but how did he know that? What does it mean? Another interesting connection- during the fall of Destiny Islands notice how the door from Sora's dive to the heart appears in front of the Secret Place, and how the door within the cave only blasts wide open when Sora gets near.

Anyway, I've always thought KKD getting damaged was wierd and suspected it had something to do with what happened in the first timeline but assumed it had to do with Mickey's heart getting damaged somehow. But this makes so much more sense to me- after all we know KKD isn't made from Mickey's heart, it was just a keyblade he found. For both Way to Dawn and KKD to have become damaged as a result of Riku's sacrifice, due to whatever happened to Sora and Riku's hearts....it just makes sense. Sora's heart was damaged, so of course the keyblade made from him would be too.

[cerastes]

A bit of a bittersweet moment I experienced recently was hearing a few people I know express complete shock at the fact that Armored Core 6 just gives you complete and utter freedom and control to do whatever you want with the appearance, aesthetics and colors of your Armored Core. I asked them to elaborate a bit on that, and a few mentioned that they were fully expecting colors and overall looks to be something you pay for in microtransactions, not something to just... Be there, baseline, in the game.

And that made me so fucking sad when I thought about it a little and, yeah, makes sense that at least a significant amount of people nowadays associate "control over my character's appearance" and "looking good in-game" to "microtransaction", because that's the state of the industry in plenty of its wings. You unlock or sometimes even pay for colors, individually, you pay for looks, on scheduled releases of microtransactions. Fucking hell, I'm used to that being the exception, they are used to it being the rule. That's the bitter part.

The sweet part was seeing them glow with the intensity of a supernova 3 hours into the game when they got a bunch more parts and then spent the next 6 hours just playing with colors, patterns, the incredibly robust emblem maker, and bringing to life their ideal, coolest, sweetest rig of an Armored Core.

And part of me believes, because I can't say I know this for a fact, but god be my witness, I fervently believe, that there was one dude, one very strong dude, in the FromSoft dev team, who didn't code a single line or attend a single meeting in the developmental cycle of Armored Core 6, no, this herculean individual's whole fate-given task was to stand at the door to the studio, stop any Bandai Scamco executives or managers that wanted to drop by the studio or join in on the meetings, and defeat them in spectacular fashion so they don't fucking ruin it for all of us with their greed, because I would bet my first three children if I had any that at least one of those fucking vampires had the idea to market customization and cosmetics as a microtransaction, and it was Very Strong Dude's job to make sure that particular asshole never once set foot in the studio.

[twilightarc-gm]

Why do you like jiang cheng?

At the risk of liking him for the wrong reasons, let me be verbose and annoying about it.

A short anecdote: I finished the donghua before the novel and I liked JC's aesthetic so I was happy to have that imagery in my head for the novel, but mostly I came out of the donghua like "cool story, the ending was frowny face though" and I came out of the novel like I was lost in the IKEA store "there's stuff here but it's not what I want and it's organized in a way that's hard to navigate through." Bit like giving me a puzzle to solve.

Anyway, imagine a cat bapping at a thing trying to get fandom to show me what to do with MDZS (i.e. reading fanfic) and then I come across anti-Jiang Cheng stuff.

//record scratch

I'm sorry what?

Why?

NO.

I started then on Shuangjie reconciliation fic and quickly evolved into Jiang Cheng "Apologist" ((I actually don't think he has anything to apologize for even if he would do so anyway.))

I've been in the xianxia/wuxia sphere of media consumption for a year or so before trying out MDZS and JC just fits so well as the main character of his own story; destined for a position of power through birth, friends with someone in his life that causes conflict, seemingly betrayed by said friend when needing that friend the most, losing and losing and losing as his trust in said friend proves unfounded because the friend walks a path he can't follow, and then he's left with the tragedy that befell the world because--ultimately he trusted this friend too much.

It's a classic story of love and attachment and how good intentions can have massive consequences. Two men entwined by fate and in the end there's a battle on a hill (off screen in this case) where one is forced to "kill" the other.

MDZS could have ended with the past timeline, and I would have liked it more but at least in the present timeline we get Jiujiu and a-Ling.

Anyway: Excerpts and Commentary Below about WHY I LOVE JIANG CHENG, courtesy WANYIN

Of all the clans to offend, you don’t offend the Jiang Clan, and of all the people to offend, you never offend Jiang Cheng.

We stand by a badass mf in this house. The first thing we learn is that he gets credit for killing a big baddy and the second thing we learn is how fierce the rest of his reputation is. He brooks no shit and leaves no quarter. Amazing 💜

Well, I was done for at "gaze like two streaks of cold lightning" so RIP me, I guess. Reminds me of some antis that are like "you only like him because he's hot" which isn't true but it is a nice plus. He's described as inferior to LWJ so like, if it was only about hotness then wouldn't I like LWJ???

“I am his uncle. Do you have any last words?”

At the sound of that voice, every drop of blood in Wei Wuxian’s body seemed to surge to his head but then immediately drained away again. Thankfully, his face was already a mess of ghastly white, so it didn’t look strange when he went a little paler.

A man in purple attire strode over. He was dressed in a narrow-sleeved light robe, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. A silver bell dangled from his waist, yet there was no sound when he walked.

This young man had fine brows and almond eyes, with a chiseled handsomeness to his features. His eyes were deep and intense with a hint of aggression, his gaze like two streaks of cold lightning. He stopped and stood three meters away from Wei Wuxian. His expression was like that of a nocked arrow on a bow, ready to shoot, and even his composure was suffused with arrogant pride.

Jiang Cheng ruled the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng alone, so it could have been said that he was in a state of isolation.

🥺 Alone?? And he could still afford 400 Immortal Binding Nets? Self-sufficient king 🤩 And like, his reputation is so fierce and he's boiling over with anger in that scene, but still he restrains himself because he did the cost-benefit analysis! And then later he takes a huge risk on WWX, like he always does for WWX, and that doesn't work out for him--like it always does.

Seeing that nothing had happened to Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng was greatly relieved. However, that relief soon turned into a furious reprimand:

Parent behavior. Enough said.

He has a twisted smile when encountering a trigger for his PTSD and then he decides to fight it instead of letting it paralyze him. He's such a doer. Like, every other moment of the day he's carefully calculating pluses and minuses to every choice (valid) but when it comes to facing his personal demons he's ready to throw down. Excellent.

A moment later, Jiang Cheng’s lips pulled into a twisted smile. His left hand subconsciously began stroking that ring once more.

He said softly, “Excellent. Back, are you?”

He let go of his left hand, and a long whip dangled from it.

“Oh? Then please enlighten me, what is your type?”

Walking A-Spec flag very concerned about what the man who might be his shixiong thinks about him, more at eleven!

Wei Wuxian waved him off and then hooked his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. “Who cares? I’ll tease him a bit more before I go. You’ve already collected my corpse so many times. Once more won’t hurt.”

Okay but big lol that JC doesn't get to collect WWX's corpse that final time. //sounds of sobbing

A smile appeared on his face, but then he immediately humphed.

He's so grumpy and adorable! I love him! pre massacre JC is precious and I just want him to have someone to bring out that smile again.

He literally didn't have to do this. He makes all these excuses how he'll be embarrassed if WWX is rolling around 😂 Perfection. Boy, you are still carrying him and he doesn't want you to stop.

Jiang Cheng, walk slower, you’re gonna throw me off.”

Not only did Jiang Cheng want to throw Wei Wuxian off, but he practically wanted to bash his head into the ground to create a human crater. “So fussy even though I’m carrying you!”

“I didn’t tell you to carry me,” Wei Wuxian reasoned.

Jiang Cheng flew into a rage. “If I didn’t carry you, I think you’d hang out at their ancestral hall all day, rolling around on the floor. I can’t afford this embarrassment! Lan Wangji took fifty more strikes than you, but he walked away on his own, and you’re not embarrassed, pretending to be an invalid? I don’t want to carry you anymore. Get the hell off!”

“No, I’m wounded,” Wei Wuxian said.

Alrighty, like I'm just going through the entire book at this point.

Let me see if I can make this more concise:

Sacrifices himself despite his very dutiful nature that would oppose this. He throws away all his responsibilities for WWX, again and again, carrying on a tradition of favoring WWX over his own health and happiness. Citing: JFM favoring WWX to the detriment of his marriage, JYL dying to save WWX, and JC (exhausted and with little or no power) running into danger to save WWX ala distracting the Wen patrol and 2nd Siege.

Can't be honest in his affections and makes up excuses to do nice things for others.

Loves and understands his sister. She wanted JZX so he made it happen when LLJ had absolutely no reason to reinstate the marriage contract between Xuanli. JGS notes in the CR arc that he didn't want the marriage for his son in the first place and that there were better options than YMJ, and that was before the war! JC helped her get to Yiling to show off her wedding dress! Even though she married out he still felt so attached to her son he couldn't not co-parent Jin Ling.

Yes, he has Zidian, but he also has a second horsewhip that he keeps on him which is very exciting to know.

The narrative hates him but he survives. (He survives because the narrative hates him).

Most BAMF entrance in the novel at the temple scene with the busting the temple doors down and coming in from the rain with an umbrella. Like sure the narrative hates him but small blessings that rule of cool still counts for something.

Mama's boy.

Just some dude, shows up late to treasury room nonsense, knows all the gossip, no one has faith in him including himself, but he keeps going and doing what needs to be done even when he's so so tired and his shixiong shows up 3 months late with a ghoul lady and a latte, or disappears to liberate slave property without warning first and now he's called into a midnight meeting after trying to get some much needed rest and now he's got consequences to deal with. Someone help him!

An expert at sneering. Threats as a show of worry and care. This makes all the little and brief smiles so much more endearing.

Sandu Shengshou is an amazing title, get out of here if you don't agree. Holy Hand of the Three Poisons? Brutal, perfect 💜 It gets used like, ONCE. Crime against me personally.

Link to Blorbo Sheet for JC

He loves, he hates, he wants to hate he's not allowed to love. Zero middle ground, he's all in and there's no way out.

//is shot and dragged off stage

But just as the Wei Wuxian of the past who’d extracted his golden core for Jiang Cheng had been unable to tell him the truth, the Jiang Cheng of the present could no longer bring himself to speak up.

[slytherizz]

Playing God - Auror!Sebastian x Dark!MC

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Non-Con | explicit sexual content | Dark!MC | Polyjuice Sex

All tags can be found on Ao3

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Decorated Auror, Sebastian Sallow had not anticipated how his life would diverge so sharply from the woman he once loved, the most wanted and notorious witch in Britain. Or how their paths would continue to cross - their fates still bound together.

A/N This fic has been living in my WIPs for about 6 months...I wanted to reverse the dynamic of my longer fic with Sebastian being the Auror this time and in doing such explore some darker themes. Short multi-chapter that will probably end up being three chapters at most.

She was pretty enough he supposed in a homely sort of way. 

Petite, with neat shoulder-length hair that brushed against narrow shoulders and, a soft bow to her overly thin top lip. But her dress was old-fashioned, a severe high-neck buttoned almost to her chin, ruffled layers of her underskirts impractical and lumpy. Layers upon layers, of an unflattering shade of yellow washed out her otherwise pleasant features. 

Compared to the other witches that would frequent such a seedy establishment with their low necklines and light skirts, she would be considered dowdy. 

If it wasn't for her eyes. Keen and alert as if beneath the sheep-like exterior lurked something dangerous. He most likely would have overlooked her too.

To even the keenest observer it wouldn't look like Sebastian had any particular tastes when it came to women or men. Much to his displeasure, the qualities that drew him in were rarely mere aesthetic. 

Barked laughter like an ill-tempered hound. The smell of mallowsweet. Aromatic and earthy. Teeth pressed lightly into a bottom lip like they held all the cards in a game no one else knew they were playing. Until they spread the winning hand. Smile so wide it unnerved, bore too many teeth.

Tonight, it was keen and dangerous eyes that reminded him of her. 

They shared no other similarities and from what Sebastian could discern from her well-manicured nails, and unblemished skin, bar a pale line around her finger where he supposed an engagement ring would usually sit - this was no fighter. 

This was a proper young lady - who had wandered onto the wrong side of town looking for a sensible amount of trouble as her wedding day, most likely to some equally wellbred suitor, loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As if Sebastian were screaming his thoughts at her across the crowded tavern, those sharp eyes flicked their attention to him. Raked over the thinning patches of his civilian cloak, the shadow across his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes he'd given up glamouring. After years they were as much a staple of his face as the freckles on his nose. 

The marks of a man who hadn't enough time to shave let alone visit a tailor, a man who would scarcely have enough time to ask her too many intrusive questions. 

She smiled. Jarring was the only way Sebastian could describe how her face seemed to split horizontally across its centre. Neither half quite belonged to the other. The demure and polite curl of her lips was offset by the razor-edged scrutiny of her darkened gaze. Predatory. Hungry. In a way that made his mouth go dry and cool sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Ice clinked against the side of his glass as Sebastian knocked back the remaining dregs of whiskey. Disguising the way his lip twitched at the corners under the weight of her eyes. Amber liquid burned his throat was nothing compared to the heat prickling across his skin.

Sebastian held up two fingers to indicate to the Barmaid over the raucous patrons of the pub. She placed a second glass on the bar filling them both with a more than generous pour. 

"Cheers," Sebastian said, placing the coins into her hand, a little extra for her trouble as he always did. The barmaid smiled brightly, flushed and preening, over a few extra sickles as if he'd declared some great love for her. Though he supposed generosity was not a trait of many that frequented the Ogre's Arms. She leaned a little further over the bar than was strictly necessary, her fingers linger too long against his palm as he hands over his sickles. 

Sebastian did not miss the way that the strangers' eyes tracked the interaction. As swift and deliberately as he had been trained to be with every motion, he slipped his hand from the barmaid's grasp deftly hooking his fingers into the rim of the grotesquely full tumblers as he spun on his heels.

Whatever the poor girl had been about to say faltered in her throat. Crackling out of life like a dying gramophone. He really should have felt some sympathy for the poor girl. 

She'd made her fondness for him quite obvious over the years. Despite how Sebastian would sidle out the door with what must seem like any witch but her. Too worried about any kind of arrangement that would ask for more than he was willing, or able, to give. Nor did he wish to find a new hole to drown himself in. 

And regretfully - her gentle honeyed voice and hopeful doe eyes that delivered longing glances had never stirred anything inside of Sebastian. As much as on some nights he wished they would. 

Sebastian weaved through the sparse gathering around the bar of the more rambunctious patrons. Turning a blind eye, to the corner booth and the two witches poorly disguising their face under their dramatic hoods, exchanging money, a rather suspicious-looking sack at their feet which gave a periodic shudder and what looked like spines protruding from the burlap. It may be his job to investigate suspicious behaviour such as this but- he'd rather not have to explain to his sergeant exactly what he was doing in this pub in the first place.

Approaching her solitary table nestled in the corner, she inclined her chin up towards him. Smug. Sloped oak beams cast a thick shadow, and candlelight flickering against her cheekbones made her features waxy like an oil painting against a grimy canvas. 

"May I?"

She tilted her head, as though she expected nothing else but was amused by his gesture nonetheless."Only because you brought a bribe." 

Sebastian hooked the heel of his boot around the chair leg pulling out further. Placed the two glasses on the table as he sat, careful not to spill any against the oak surface. Not that it would be such a shame if it did. Cheap whiskey from a smudged glass was hardly a waste. 

Sebastian tipped his glass to her in toast, she did not feign even the slightest interest in her glass or his hollow act of chivalry. 

"I haven't seen you here before," Sebastian said. 

Flexing her fingers, she admired those well-polished nails. "No. I don't suppose you would have."

West Country. Quaint. As out of place amongst the sea of London accents as her dress was from this decade. Confirming a very important fact for Sebastian she was certainly not from around here. For the best. 

"This doesn't seem like the place for such a nice young lady such as yourself."

Chin resting on the back of her delicate hand. A feline grin spread across her face, as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Nor the place for well respected Ministry men." 

Tension seized Sebastian's shoulders. Unnerved by her perception, his eyes darted across the sea of faces. He'd left the scarlet cloak with the gold badge adorning his lapels in his flat long before he'd made apparated to the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Places like these didn't take too kindly to rozzers scrambling their clientele. Nor would he want it to become common knowledge at the Ministry that he frequented grimy drinking holes on his off hours. He was certain she'd been alone but that prickle of unease had his hand reaching towards his wand.  

She caught his arm swiftly, delicate fingers folded up the cuff of his cloak. Ministry insignia branded into the tan leather strap that secured his wand to his forearm. 

Chuckling breathily to himself, Sebastian felt the tension ebb as, just as swiftly, she turned down the sleeve. "Half the people here carry their wand tucked up their sleeve. You have a keen eye, to have spotted that mark from halfway across the room, lass. Do you make it a habit of checking if every man who approaches you is an Auror?"

Sharp eyes glinted with mischief. "Only the ones that interest me."

"Must be my lucky day." He leaned in closer, bitter whiskey breath disturbed a loose curl around her ear as he whispered. "Unless there's a reason you have to be on such high alert for authority I should know about?"

"Do I look like the kind of woman who would have much trouble with the law?"

He cast his eyes down, at her unblemished hands. Free of callouses and scar tissue, the tight restrictiveness of her bodice ill-suited for battle, her polite disarming smile - even those eyes, so reminiscent but not quite right. Despising the remorseful pang in his chest. Nothing like her. 

"Well if that's the case this," he gestured around the damp crooked hole masquerading as a tavern. "Certainly isn't the place for you." 

"Nor you. Unless the requirements for holding such an esteemed post has gone severely downhill and they let swindlers and murderers into their ranks." He almost winced at the sting of the insult she unwittingly delivered. 

"Perhaps lurking around in dingey bars with terrible whiskey isn't suited to either of us. Perhaps, upstanding members of society that we are, should go somewhere we can feel more…relaxed."

"And where exactly is there such a place for me?" Most women would have covered that glaring tan line on her finger, under gloved hands or glamour, but she seemed to flaunt it as she ghosted it across his knuckles;  an invitation.

Sebastian's grin widened. "I have a few ideas."

"I don't have much time. So you better make every minute count."

***

Sebastian unlocked his front door with a snap of his fingers. Gestured her inside, his hand pressed into the small of her back. She inclined her head towards him, a smirk playing on her lips at the hollow politeness of his gesture. Knowing full well his intention of inviting her back to his flat was far from gentlemanly. 

Exaggerated skirts shifted as she stepped inside. Soft lamp lights scattered around his living room sparked to life in welcome illuminating the small living area. Her formal attire looked out of place; more suited for high tea than the sparsely filled space Sebastian inhabited. 

Files strewn across the long velvet settee, scattered teacups and candles burned down to the wick littered every available surface. He knew the larder would be just as barren save for some tea bags and a half-empty bottle of gin the department had cobbled together to purchase for his promotion. He didn't even like gin. The presence of female company always seemed to highlight just how every inch of his flat screamed bachelor.  

Sebastian shrugged off his cloak, hooking it on the back of the door. Never once taking his eyes off her. Odd little creature that she was. Against the faint moonlight that trickled in from the arched window on the far wall, her face cloaked in darkness, she cast a dramatic silhouette. 

Not quite her. No. But her dress despite its bulk could not disguise the dip of her waist, an alluring swell to her chest. With her face masked from view, he felt his drink-fogged mind teeter dangerously on an edge he would not let it wander past. 

She'd bent down, and pinched the corner of a piece of parchment he'd discarded the previous night between her thumb and forefinger. Sebastian slipped his wand from the holster. With a flick, the paper pried itself free to rejoin the rest which were shuffling themselves back into their file before shooting across the room into the waiting drawer of his bureau. The gold lock clicked shut, locking them securely away with an audible snap. 

Her head whipped around, her chin jutted out in irritation, and her eyes narrowed slightly into a glare. Sebastian shrugged, as he unbuckled the holster on his arm, placing it on the narrow kitchen island. "Classified information. I'm sure you understand."  

Sebastian couldn't have nosy witches trawling through his case files. He'd seen plenty of Aurors sacked for lesser sins. And reporters from the Prophet certainly weren't above seduction tactics to get their stories. That knowledge did nothing however to stop the tingle that spread down his spine that the defiant look in her eye ignited in him. 

"I suppose." She shrugged, a forced display of indifference. Before proceeding to further inspect his residence. Striding about like she owned the place and Sebastian was merely some troublesome tenant. 

The cramped flat he'd started renting in London straight out of Hogwarts could hardly be considered a home. Sebastian never planned to make it one. Or stay for as long as he did. Merely a stepping stone, at the start of his career. Close to the Ministry, so he could collapse after a long day. 

Eat. Sleep. Breath. Work. 

That desperate desire to prove himself more than what he'd been. Never satisfied with his lot in life. By the grace of Merlin, he'd been given a second chance to make himself a man - his parents, his sister, that he could be proud of. 

He had planned to settle down eventually. Fix the decaying bones of his parents' old house on the hill with her by his side. Both were now a faded, hopeless dream. Sebastian's life had rarely gone to plan.

Tracing a finger across the well-worn spines on his overstuffed bookshelf she pondered each title with interest. "Quite the collection you have. Some rather questionable titles you have here for a man of your profession."

"Special Ministry approval. They're charmed to be bound to my place of residence - before you get any ideas. Can never be too prepared in my line of work. Knowledge of magic of a more…delicate nature can be the difference between life and death."

Strictly speaking, this was not a lie. Any Auror worth his salt would have at least half the books in Sebastian's collection on curse-breaking, dark magic and deadly creatures. Admittedly, his robust library wasn't necessary for his career nor was all of it purely academic interest. 

Eyewitness accounts of skinwalkers he'd picked up on a short trip to America, liaising with the MACUSA on their rising troll problem. Journals, written in the maddening scrawl of a witch who'd fancied herself a revolutionary scholar. Wanted to test the corruption dark magic had on the soul. Daft bugger used herself to test her theories. Now all that was left of her was crammed into a bachelor's bookcase.

Smallest in number and size, a thin collection of children's stories and a letter correspondence from crackpot conspiracists. He'd been too late to salvage anything that remained of Miriam Fig's research and this pitiful array was all that he'd discovered over the years with any reference to Ancient Magic. A small house fire could destroy what Sebastian could only assume was the largest collated materials on the subject.

It had been foolish to try to love her, but perhaps more still to hunt the vengeful wraith. 

"Well read. Good career. Seems you are a rather eligible bachelor-"

Sebastian smiled moving closer towards her. "I'm not bad to look at either."

"Despite your proclivity for skulking around dingey bars. It's unusual to find a man such as yourself…unattached."

"What can I say - I'm married to my work. Not much time for anything else; not many witches would put up with the lifestyle long-term. Never been interested in marriage." 

Liar. 

She looked up at him through dark lashes, from how those sharp eyes stripped him back until he was raw and exposed - she scented his dishonesty. "Sounds like a lonely life." 

"Depends on who you ask."

Sebastian leaned heavily on the shelf above her head, elbow brushing against well-loved spines. His calloused palm slipped around her waist, running up her side. Felt the curved bones of her corset under his thumb. Leaning in closer still, enough that his breath disturbed the loose curls around her temples. Her lips parted, tongue dancing along her bottom lip as she tilted her chin up towards him like a cat basking in a warm breeze. 

She didn't waiver. Not a single flicker of hesitation in those sharp, piercing eyes. For a moment, Sebastian pitied the man who intended to marry her. But not enough to stop him from capturing her lips. 

Tasting the tang of cheap whiskey in their mingled breath. Not a slither of remorse as her delicate hands found the nape of Sebastian's neck. Used chestnut curls to pull him closer to kiss him more deeply. Their breath was little more than stolen gasps for air and an opportunity for her tongue to seize and slip past parted lips. 

Sebastian crowded her further against the bookshelf. Held tighter to the bunched fabric of her skirts, hands fumbling desperately to feel the shape it disguised. Frustrated by the garment, his lips left her mouth. Travelled down to her jaw, her breathing hitched, head tipped back to thunk against the shelf as Sebastian nipped and sucked at the column of her throat. A little too sharply. But she only pressed into him further. Blood and bruises bloomed wild across her skin as his teeth grazed along her heightened pulse. 

He knew what it was like to try to ensnare creatures such as this. How they bit when cornered. Fool that he was, he desired to tame them, change their nature; almost as much as he craved to be bitten.

Maybe that was why he held her so firmly in his grasp. Petticoats balled in his fists, as he pressed himself awkwardly against her. Her dainty form didn't quite fit the stocky mould of his own. 

Not that anyone witch or woman had since. 

Not that she seemed to care. She pulled Sebastian in like he alone was hers to drink from. Like he belonged to her and she would bend and break him to fit her. Some part of him prayed she succeeded. He'd snap every bone in his body, boil down his sinew in the hope that when at last he healed - he would fit another. 

Sebastian pressed his mouth into the crook of her shoulder and burrowed his face, inhaling deeply, as he mouthed at her skin. Soft and supple as an over-ripe peach. Desperately, pathetically trying and failing to make himself fit. But the bridge of his nose bumped harshly against her clavicle and his back ached from stooping. 

He'd never melted into anyone since her. No matter how many times he tried with countless trysts with all the ways they reminded him of her in their laughs, smiles, and eyes - they were not her.

Pained groan against her shoulder. Cloth ripped as he tore past her outdated petticoats and the silk of her undergarments. Desperate hands kneaded at her bare flesh. Thigh. Hip. The curve of her arse. Every inch of her skin grew hot, flushed under his touch. If Sebastian had been in his right mind not addled, by drink and frustration he would have handed it to her; for such a wellbred lady, she did not startle easily or cringe from his working hands. With a strung-out whine, she simply displaced the torn fabric so Sebastian's knee pressed between her thighs could provide her with more friction.

Sebastian sank to his knees, hooking her thigh around his broad shoulder. Balanced precariously, her back pressed against the stacks and her leg suspended quivering. Heel dug between his shoulder blades as she sought stability. Her limbs were lean…soft. Delicate like a lamb. No coiled muscle battle worn and firm disguised under her skirts.  

That did not stop Sebastian from groaning against the sparse hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Her muscles clenched tighter. Not with apprehension. No. With blinding unhindered desire. Whining breathlessly, as she urged him to fulfil his role, drop any pretence to do what they came here for. This was no budding romance. And there was no time to pretend otherwise. 

Sebastian's tongue darted out teasing the tip through her folds. Eagerly seeking out her bundle of nerves to curl his tongue under her hood. Satisfied, a mewl passed her lips to at last have Sebastian where she desired him most. Hips bucked and writhed with every broad stroke and teasing lick against her soaking entrance. Brown tresses tangled harshly in her grip, those neatly filed nails scratching encouragingly against his scalp. 

Her taste was unfamiliar on Sebastian's tongue, but he only lapped at her more fervently. Desperate. As if he savoured enough of her desire for him - he could burn away the memories of sweeter nectars.

Bunching her skirt closer to her stomach, Sebastian's view of her was unobstructed. The collar pulled open where she'd made swift work of the buttons of her high neckline; they hung like loosely strung pearls cascading down her chest which heaved with every breath. Breasts dimpled against the restrictive tightly laced corset.

Sebastian's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Not the right shape or hue but that intensity to them. Storm raging across a riptide, Sebastian, vulnerable in their depth. He could drown in them and would do so gladly.

Blood rushed south, and Sebastian groaned low, pained. He sucked on her clit, coaxing more slick to coat his lips and chin. Hoping beyond hope that her eyes locked on his would flutter closed in pleasure. Her mouth was ajar, each drawn-out moan growing louder as she approached her peak. Clever calculating gaze fixed on Sebastian. He knew he was exactly where she wanted him. Prey to her predator. His cock strained and achingly hard because of it.

Her back arched against the stacks, toes curling against the centre of his back, legs shook with the strain to hold herself upright. Sebastian was relentless. He devoured the quivering nub, tongue teasing as he sucked. Her passionate cry was unrestrained, legs threatening to buckle bringing her down like a house of cards as she collapsed over the edge. Aftershock of pleasure rolled over her, he kept a firm grip on her hip as she rested more heavily against him. His desire for her is confusing and just as precarious. 

Sebastian unhooked her leg from his shoulder, palms running along the backs of her calves. She was still propped up feebly holding herself against the bookcase. Pads of her fingers clutching pathetically at the shelves with the ball of her heel holding purchase on the floor. 

Orgasm ebbing, softening her predatory edge. A smirk played at Sebastian's lips as he looked up at her once polished appearance now dishevelled. Rattling, with a lust-drunk gaze that defiant chin hanging slightly ajar as she greedily gulped down air. 

She narrowed her eyes at his smug expression and gathered her composure before slipping her ruined dress from her shoulders letting it puddle at her feet. Nail digging under his chin as she beckoned Sebastian upwards, pulling him in. 

It made Sebastian's heart beat wildly against his chest. A caged canary faced with a falcon. 

Teeth grazed his bottom lip, tongue seeking his own. Sebastian's clothes fell away easily from his broad frame. His shirt was discarded, followed by breeches which tangled around his ankles as they fumbled towards the settee. Muffled grunts into her mouth every time her palm grazed his cock, hard and throbbing, through his undergarments. Sebastian moved to lie her swiftly across the settee. One hand pressed into the small of her back the other tangled in amongst the pins now falling loose from her hair.

 

Inexplicably, she moved faster than Sebastian thought she was capable of. Leg hooked around his ankle like a snake pulling him off balance. Backs of his knees connected with the settee as his legs buckled and Sebastian collapsed bodily onto cushions. Rarely with his extensive training did anyone get the jump on him. 

Her lips curled as she observed the way his enlarged head twitched against his belly more eagerly. "Now, I think it's my turn." Laces from her corset pulled loose, she let the camisole shift to the floor with it. "-And you looked far too pretty beneath me."

As she straddled his lap, Sebastian spluttered on his groan and the intoxicating sensation of her wet centre against his shaft. Her palms were flat, braced against his chest, nails scratching at the coarse hairs that grew there. Every inch of her soft, naked flesh pressed against him. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, sliding along her flushed skin with hands that seemed too large. 

She really was quite pretty. Sebastian just wished the parts that didn't remind him of her made his heart race as much as the ones that did. 

She caught his lips, fingers cupped against his jaw, her mouth moving against his. Teeth and tongue. Hot breath came out in short dulcet pants as she greedily tasted the remnants of her arousal on his lips.

Her hand snaked down between them, taking Sebastian's throbbing length in her hand. He hissed, as her thumb smoothed over the leaking slit, aligning him with her entrance. Eyelashes fluttered a satisfied sigh, as she sank down, taking him inside of her. Dainty as she may appear, she appeared to relish the stretch to accommodate his size, almost as much as he did. So tight she gripped his cock, it almost sent him hurtling over the edge. 

Barely giving herself time to adjust before she canted her hips. Weight shifting so she could slide up his shaft until only the head of his cock remained before sinking back down onto Sebastian's girth more demandingly. Needy grunts reverberated in Sebastian's chest as he matched her frantic desperate pace. Forehead braced on her chest as he bucked his hips into her tight core. Pebbled nipple caught between his lips, her head thrown back in a wanton moan as Sebastian ever so gently grazed the peak with his teeth. 

Sebastian closed his eyes. Whiskey fog coupled with the godly feel of her clenched around him, he relaxed into her eager pace. Inhibitions lowered, his mind straying to the well-worn path he rarely let himself tread. 

Face striking contorted in ecstasy; a savage beauty like lightning striking the ocean. Mallowsweet scent; that soothed like a botanist's herbal balm. How perfectly her body wrapped around his own as if by design. Sebastian's teeth pressed hard against his tongue as her name danced upon it. With his eyes closed, hands held back - that shameful part of him could pretend it was her. 

"Sebastian," the witch moaned. He didn't remember giving her his name. Nor asking hers. The voice he heard was not that polite West Country lilt but one conjured from Hades - his divine pleasure and punishment. 

Can't let it be her. 

Sebastian forced his eyes open, to look at the woman from the bar. Her neat hair, narrow shoulders and thin top lip. Only to find the lines separating fantasy from reality blurred and contorted. His stomach lurched. 

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought. 

Whiskey had crowded and garbled his senses as well as his inhibitions. Sebastian's vision was merely blurred. She looked like her. Not just in her eyes but the sloping curve of her neck, the arch of her nose, her hair longer and tangling against the neat pins that had once held it back. 

It's all the whiskey. 

If he could bring himself to look away from her face for even one moment he would see the room spinning. But he couldn't look away. 

Those keen eyes bore into him, locked with his own and he swore they changed colour. The fire that had been smouldering within sparked, roaring, melting her irises into that familiar hue. 

He didn't just have to squeeze his eyes shut to see her and pretend it was her impossibly tight walls clenching around him with every thrust. 

There she was. 

"You," Sebastian spluttered, disbelief tight in his chest. "No. No- It can't be you. This can't be happening." Who cares if he sounded mad? His mind was spiralled and scrambled, desperate to bring back the visage of the woman from the bar and right himself. This face; her face didn't waver. She rolled her hips once more, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cast her gaze down. Over her breasts and the faded scar that curled under the left from the crucio, he'd administered. Firm muscles of her legs earned from years of battle. Calloused hands of someone who knew little of comfort. All were once again her own. 

Sebastian's world was spiralling, tipping on its axis. Tension in every muscle in his body. Still as beautiful as she was in his nightmares, even the ones where she tore out his heart. She clicked her tongue, amused then smiled. So wide, it bore too many teeth.

Fucking exquisite. Sebastian despised the way his heart faltered in his chest. 

"Pity. I guess the kneazle's out of the bag," she purred, teeth raking sharp across his earlobe. So sharp it shocked his spiral back into sickening clarity like ice in his veins. 

Like a shot, Sebastian wrapped his hand hard around her throat forcing her face away from him. Thumb pressed harshly into the corner of her jaw with his iron grip on her windpipe. Any sane woman would tremble to have his large hand like a vice around her throat in anger. Cower, under the venom in his eyes.

But she was far from sane; perhaps never had been. She gasped involuntarily choking around where his fingers so deeply pressed into her flesh, but the smile on her lips never faltered despite how he could feel the hammer of her blood against his fingertips.

"You should know I don't share," she wheezed. It wasn't the polite West Country drawl she'd adopted at the bar - but that feminine purr he knew far too well. Velvety, like a caress that sent shivers down his spine; and if it were possible simultaneously made his blood run cold and his cock impossibly stiffer where it was sheathed deep within her. She whimpered approvingly, hot breath ghosting his freckled cheeks.

"Fuck- how did you-" Choking on his groan as she expertly rolled her hips, grinding on his cock. Evil, manipulative witch. She knew exactly how to turn practically every rational thought in Sebastian's brain to smoke. 

"Polyjuice. She was pretty don't you think? You seemed to like fucking her while it lasted. Maybe not as much as that curvy redhead from a few months ago...I had bruises on my thighs for weeks."

Somewhere deep in his psyche, Sebastian knew he should push her off. Bind her. Gag her. Put as much distance between himself and her and the mixed-up way she made him feel. Preferably in a cell in the deepest part of Azkaban the Ministry had long ago allocated for her when they signed the warrant for her arrest. At that moment, over the cacophony screaming through his head the only coherent thought was how to keep her desperately bouncing on his cock. 

"I thought it was my turn to have some unsanctioned fun." 

No - rose, bubbled and died in his throat. Caught somewhere amongst the shameful rasping groan as she began to rhythmically rock her hips. Never quite releasing her entirely, but Sebastian's grip on her throat loosened as his muscles slackened in shameful pleasure. 

Using every bit of her newfound leash, she leaned forward to kiss him. Sin, like ambrosia on his tongue. Lips slotted against him, they moved in perfect harmony to a melody he wished had never been composed on his bones. 

She wrapped around him as if the wild thing that she had always been had sprouted from the earth, and curled her tendrils around him. Or rather, like a constant wave beating against him she'd worn his surface. It was a marvel he hadn't crumbled into her sooner. 

"You're mine you know," she cooed, her breath hot against his ear.

"I am not," Sebastian spat. But try as he might to deny it, curse her until his final breath - his words rang hollow. And he loathes himself all the more for it. She was not his any longer, but something else. Twisted by cruelty and power that simply wore the face of the woman he once loved. 

Shame stirred in his gut; desire coursed through his blood. 

"Denying it doesn't make it any less true. You know me blind. When my face is not my own. Fate has bound us, Sebastian. Just as I would know you in any life."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, cheek pressed against her sternum. Fingers digging into her shoulder blades, as he pounded his cock up into her harder, faster. If he was stronger, he would not be prey to her illicit designs for him - but he was not. She keened, greedy to take all he could give her. Consume him entirely if she could. Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed himself for being weak.

Vision narrowing, Sebastian groaned, low and pitiful into the curve of her neck. Ashamed of what he knew was coming. "I hate you," he cursed. Repeated it like a mantra, his lips against her sweat-salted skin as if he could transcribe the words onto her flesh.

Deep plunges into her warmth growing erratic as Sebastian's coil tightens. Her body clenched, tightening around him, with every thrust teased against her sweet spot coaxing more slick onto his cock. His punishing words merely rolled off her curves like water off a duck's back. 

"S-Sebastian," her hoarse cry pierced through his resolve. Sebastian bit into her neck trying and failing to hold back from the precipice of the inevitable. Unwilling to surrender any more of himself to her. It only served to send her hurtling over the cliff. His cock buried deep inside of her, her head thrown back, cunt quivering as her climax broke. Orgasm, wracked through her in waves. Engulfing Sebastian's every sense. 

Fire and Brimstone. Gentle breezes and mallowsweet. 

Beauty. Terror. 

Rhythm faltering, Sebastian's hips spluttered as that mounting coil finally snapped. Her name on his lips, her scent on his skin. Everything that remained of Sebastian Sallow was consumed entirely by her. He came hard - with a broken pathetic whine that forced itself from his body as he spilt inside of her.

It was no little death - it was all-consuming. A part of him would never come back from. Another piece of his soul surrendered along with what was left of his dignity. 

Sebastian fought for breath. Unforgiving waters filled his chest, ice seized his joints, heart thundered as dark edges clouded his vision, threatening to drown out the light and sound. Choking on his saliva he wheezed, shoulders heaved forward violently. Fresh tears pricked in his eyes. 

She shushed his soothingly, thumb tracing idle patterns on his skin with a sickening gentleness that curdled his stomach. He whined pathetically against her chest but she only gripped him harder. Fingers carded through his hair as she hummed a sweet tune peppering kisses to the crown of his chestnut hair. 

Perhaps, in another life, he had the strength to overcome the guilt and sickness now seizing his bones. In another, perhaps there was no deception to be ashamed of. 

He wasn't sure how long they sat entwined, soft cock still inside her, his spend leaking onto his thighs matting in the hair. When at last Sebastian's violent sobbing eased he felt the enchantment stretch across his body, taunt ropes strapped his arms to his sides, and bound his ankles. A chaste kiss against his temple as she slid from his lap.

Sebastian watched her and tried to pretend for a second, that he was not bound, she was not mad and hips swaying hypnotically as she pranced naked around their flat as she did every Sunday evening. Not his. Theirs. Another life, unstained by dark magic where she was still his. 

Fussing with her dress, eyebrows pinched together, frowning as she examined the shredded yellow gown. She sighed, holding the unlaced corset over her breasts, gathering up the remnants to haul them to the kitchen island. She found his wand, with its emerald and onyx handle, the one that had belonged to his paternal great-grandfather. Back and forth she toyed with it in her hands. 

"Put that down." A feeble attempt at a threat from a man bound, naked, cheeks streaked with stale tears. Tight from salt they felt stretched like a drum. 

"You ruined my dress," she pouted. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

Traitorously, Sebastian's wand didn't so much as shudder in retaliation. It obeyed her easily, stitching up the splintered seams, her corset tightened, cinching at her waist. Her hairpins reorganised themselves. She looked almost like her old self, the girl she'd been at school, with a spark of fire in her eyes that mirrored his own. 

"Before you go running off to the next little witch who bats her eyelashes at you, Bash. Try to remember - I don't share." She placed his wand back on the counter and slipped a canteen from her purse. She drank deeply. Gagging, hand smacking into her chest to keep down whatever foul liquid it contained.

If Sebastian had still been drunk the way her face bubbled like stew on a boil would have turned his stomach. Her lips thinned, her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her scars paled and her muscles softened. The woman from the Pub returned, exactly as he'd met her. It did nothing to quell the sickness churning in his gut. 

"Au revoir mon amour." She was gone as quickly as she came, but her presence lingered like a gaping, festering wound. 

Sebastian sat in the dark. Hatred for her that he cultivated in public and the private yearning he tended to as it grew like persistent weeds in his garden he tended had given way to emptiness. A void that for a time he was content to let swallow him whole as he stared at the cracks in his floor. Mourning the woman he'd loved. But most he mourned for himself, for all she took from him. 

Shadows inched across the floor as dawn eventually broke. Long after the bindings had dissolved. Sebastian hadn't slept or moved for hours and his joints stiff, groaned as he got to his feet. He trudged to his bathroom and ran the water until it was scalding. Intent on scrubbing his skin raw. As if she could un-touch him. 

[gamerwithamonocle]

Cool Hades 2 Character Design Thing!

First off, new god art looks amazing! I am so excited to see a some of the ones that didn’t make it into the last game appear here! Now onto a cool thing about Moros’ character design I noticed and how it’s probably tied into the game’s themes!

He’s got little references to his sisters, the Fates, in his design. (and also to the Fate aesthetic as a whole I guess.) Moros is one of Nyx’s many kids along with the Fates, Thanatos, Hypnos, Charon, Nemesis... ect. However, he and the Fates are a little more closely associated with each other than he is with his other siblings.

His little sash had three symbols on it that resemble (left to right) a spool of thread, ye old scissors/shears, and a spindle. These match the Fate sisters’ roles as Spinner (spindle for a spinning wheel), Allotter (determines how much thread of life goes into each person’s spool), and Upturning (or the one that cuts the thread). 

His sword also appears to be made to look like a sewing needle to complete the whole Fate family sewing aesthetic. Moros himself is the Fates’ older brother and is associated with impeding doom and generally bad times destinies, being the one who kinda leads people to them. SO it makes sense that he would have a needle to guide people’s strings.

Also he’s standing next to what I assume is this game’s Fated List of Minor Prophecies, which was written by the Fates for Zagreus in the first game, as well as what’s probably a scrying pool. Maybe he has missions like killing a certain type of enemy however many times given his domain?

I think it’s really cool that in a game where Kronos, Titan of Time, is the main big bad has all these gods whose domain revolve around prophecies, fate, and inevitability gunning against him is hilarious given he got screwed by fate before. I mean, Apollo god of prophecy and oracles is also here. Honestly, this is just a great cast for a game genre that’s all about running through RNG floors in endless loops. I’m so excited!

[fantasyescapes17]

Manners (Part 1)

Viscount Joshua Hong is by far the most eligible bachelor in London. Rich, handsome, and renowned for his excellent manners and refined tastes. Young woman would kill for the chance to be the Viscount's chosen bride. But nobody can quite determine which of the young ladies he prefers, and you are beginning to have your doubts. Is the Viscount really as gentlemanly as the ton seems to think?

Genre: Joshua Hong x Female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are a sibling to all the Lees (Woozi, DK, Dino) so your last name is Lee but the reader has no other specific characteristics, physical or otherwise.

Word Count: 3.2k+

Part 2

Series Masterlist [I would highly recommend reading the earlier stories in this series, Patience, and Candle, before this one but it's not strictly necessary.]

It was a warm evening in June when your life suddenly changed. 

You had, at that point, been out in London society for almost two years without having received a single marriage proposal. Being the third child and eldest daughter of the Lee family, your responsibilities were far greater than your charms. 

Most young ladies your age possessed a bountiful dowry and carefully developed talents to attract a husband. Instead, you possessed the responsibility of managing five siblings, an absentee father, and a mediocre dowry. Only three of the siblings were younger than you (but really, from the way he sometimes behaved, Seokmin might as well have been younger than you). 

Mr. Lee (your father) was often away and busy managing affairs of the estate. He had ceased to care for society or matrimony since the death of your beloved mother. The responsibility of ensuring your siblings were raised well had naturally fallen on you, the eldest daughter. You did not entirely resent the circumstances. You loved all your siblings equally- even sullen Jihoon and cheeky little Chan- but your future was quite clear. 

You would probably end up an old maid. 

Or you would have, if not for that fateful June evening when Viscount Joshua Hong appeared unannounced on the doorstep of your London home. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

The kitchens were in an uproar. 

“These noblemen are quite careless!” the cook cried out as she struggled angrily to light the large coal fire. “To come around unannounced for dinner-the Viscount, you say- oh, what am I supposed to serve him? I was going to prepare a simple soup and fish for the family supper but that will certainly not suffice for a Viscount!”

You tried in vain to calm the cook. 

“Really, Dotty, it is all right- I am sure the Viscount will not demand anything more than what we usually eat,” you told her gently. 

“Of course he will not demand it- I am quite aware that the Viscount Joshua Hong has the most excellent manners. He should likely eat stale bread without complaint if we served it to him. But how would I ever be able to live with myself if I did that? Oh- how unfortunate that the Viscount should come for supper on the one night when there is no venison to be had…”

There was no calming the cook down. You sighed. 

“Dotty, I must go upstairs to dress for dinner. Please do not worry and serve whatever you are able. The Viscount is a good friend of Jihoon and he will not mind a simple supper after having arrived unannounced.” 

Dotty gave you a miserable look. “I should very much have liked to serve the Viscount my venison pie…”

You laughed. “I shall ask Jihoon to invite him to dinner again soon; and you shall be told well in advance so that you can serve your venison pie. But soup and fish will do for tonight.” 

“Yes, miss…” 

You left the kitchens through the back entrance and hurried up to the bedchambers through a side corridor; carefully avoiding the drawing room where Viscount Hong sat in conversation with your father and older brothers. 

It was perfectly understandable that Dotty had panicked when the Viscount suddenly appeared at the doorstep of your London home to call on your brothers. 

Viscount Joshua Hong was not only one of the richest noblemen in London, he was also the most handsome eligible bachelor. He was the epitome of impeccable manners and fine breeding. The entire ton had been waiting with bated breath ever since it had become public knowledge that he was in search of a wife. 

You could not deny that you were equally curious. Any young lady that could catch the eye of Viscount Hong would surely be perfection incarnate. You could not think of a single woman that could compare. Perhaps the Duchess of Graham? Even she did not possess Viscount Hong's excellent manners. 

As you reached the top of the stairs, you discovered that the entrance to your bedroom was barred by two of your younger siblings. Chan looked upset and angry, while little Nessie looked delighted. 

You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the onslaught. 

“Why am I not allowed to sit with the gentleman downstairs?” demanded Chan, at the same time that Nessie cried, “Is it true Viscount Hong is here? Does he really have a golden carriage?"

You ushered them into your room before their loud voices could carry downstairs to the drawing room. 

"You are not yet old enough to sit with the gentlemen," you told Chan firmly, before turning to Nessie. "Yes, Viscount Hong is here and you will be allowed to see him at supper. No, his carriage is not made of real gold."

"I'm sixteen-" Chan protested.

"Sixteen is not old enough."

"It's too old to be sitting upstairs with the girls," Chan insisted with a pout. 

You sighed. "Stay upstairs for now. After supper, if Father permits, you may sit with the gentlemen," you told him. "Now go dress for supper quickly. Both of you."

You called for your maid to help you dress and then wrestled little Nessie and Lily into appropriate gowns. Fortunately, Chan managed to make himself look presentable on his own and you were able to get them all downstairs in time for supper.

The gentlemen were already seated for dinner; your father at the head of the table and Viscount Hong to his right along with your brothers- Mr. Lee Jihoon and Mr. Lee Seokmin. 

"Remember to curtsey," you reminded your little sisters quietly. 

They both curtsied prettily for the benefit of Viscount Hong, who greeted you and your younger siblings warmly with a handsome smile and bright eyes. He was characteristically patient when little Lily suddenly threw a tantrum and insisted on being allowed to sit beside him. 

"I will sit beside the Viscount, you never allow me to sit beside the Viscount!" Lily cried, stomping your feet. You laughed nervously, taking your six-year old sister gently by the arm. 

"Come now, Lily, I've told you before that you must behave when we have company-" you scolded lightly. 

"I should very much like to sit beside Lily," Viscount Hong said with a kind smile, before turning to your father quickly. "Unless, sir, you should have any objection."

Your father waved a hand dismissively. "Let the child sit where she likes, we must get on with dinner."

Jihoon surrendered his seat to little Lily and moved around the table to sit beside you instead. You lowered your voice and mumbled in a low voice to your elder brother. 

"Of course we are delighted to have the Viscount here for dinner, it's not that anyone dislikes his company," you mumbled. "But perhaps you could ask him to give us notice next time? Dotty was quite a mess about what to serve for dinner."

Jihoon coughed into his napkin. 

"I don't know why he is even here," your brother whispered. "It's quite unlike Joshua. He is usually incredibly well-mannered but really, neither Seokmin nor I invited him here tonight and he simply won't leave."

You looked at your brother in surprise- you had thought that the Viscount was surely here to discuss urgent business with your brothers or father. 

"Oh…"

The servants entered with dinner, so your conversation with Jihoon was cut short. You were forced to turn your attention to the Viscount, who sat opposite you and was listening patiently to a fairy tale that Lily was reciting. 

"Lily, stop boring the Viscount," Chan scolded her lightly. He turned to the older gentleman with bright eyes. "Viscount Hong, is it true that you have five thoroughbred horses and three pure white Arabian horses in your stables? And that the Arabians were brought from overseas?"

Joshua smiled. "Yes, that is correct. Are you interested in horses, Chan?"

Chan flushed. "I've studied them a little."

"He's studied them far more than he's studied mathematics," you said lightly. Chan frowned but Viscount Hong's dark eyes flickered towards you in amusement. He gave you a small smile. 

"I see your sister doesn't like your interest in horses," Joshua remarked.

"My sister doesn't like anything interesting," Chan complained and you nearly choked on your soup in embarrassment before giving your younger brother a stern look.

"Chan! "

But Joshua only turned to look at you with his usual kind smile. "If you can vouch for Chan having completed his mathematics, Miss Lee, then I should be glad to invite him to visit our stables next week to see the horses."

Chan's eyes widened in delight and he jumped out of his seat. 

"Viscount Hong, would you really-"

"I believe the Viscount said the invitation was dependent upon you completing your mathematics," you reminded your brother calmly. "So sit down and finish your dinner. And thank you, Viscount Hong, I would not want us to intrude upon your hospitality."

Viscount Hong smiled. "I do not consider it an intrusion. It is the least I can do."

"We are grateful, all the same."

Your father cleared his throat as he finished his soup. The senior Mr. Lee was not generally a social man, but even he could not ignore the need to engage in polite conversation when there was a man of such noble standing as the Viscount at his table. 

"Were you in attendance at the Hastings' ball yesterday, Viscount Hong?" your father asked. "My children tell me it was quite a wonderful event. And since you are looking for a wife, I suppose attending these events is of more importance than ever."

Joshua nodded respectfully at your father.

"Indeed, sir, I was in attendance. In fact- I was fortunate enough to have danced once with your daughter," Joshua replied with a small smile. 

You nodded. Viscount Hong was very much an in-demand dance partner, but you were grateful that he had still asked you to dance with him a number of times over the course of the season. You knew better than to read too much into a mere dance, however. Joshua also regularly danced with plenty of women far more eligible than you- Miss Jeon, the Duchess of Graham, Miss Williams, Miss Yoon…

It was a long list that you did not care to repeat. 

Mr. Lee nodded. "Yes- I am sure my daughter is quite grateful for your company."

You flushed in embarrassment at the implication that the Viscount had danced with you out of pity, but the topic of conversation was quickly rerouted by Chan- who had been unable to take his mind off the horses. 

"Viscount Hong, when you said that I might visit your stables next week," Chan pressed eagerly. "Which day of the week were you suggesting, as I have my lessons on Thursdays…"

You frowned. "Chan!"

Viscount Hong laughed. "It is quite all right, Miss Lee. Shall we say Wednesday, Chan?"

"Wednesday sounds excellent…"

The supper passed in a pleasant manner. Joshua's unannounced arrival was certainly not convenient but you had to admire how smoothly the gentleman blended himself into your family supper. He was polite, but without showing any of the airs and superiority that someone of his station could have displayed around your family. 

He showed enthusiasm for Lily's stories, patiently answered Chan's questions about horses and even joked around with Jihoon and Seokmin, whom he had known for many years. You knew that Viscount Joshua Hong was as far, far, far out of your reach as a man could possibly be but…

Well, there was no harm in silently admiring such a wonderful specimen of the opposite gender, was there? 

You ushered your sisters upstairs to bed after dinner. Chan, stubborn as ever, insisted on being allowed to stay in the drawing room while the gentlemen smoked a pipe. You left him be: disciplining Chan was quite out of your hands and you had decided that you would begin to leave it to Jihoon. 

You had just put the girls to bed and were about to undress for bed yourself when there was a frantic knocking at your door.

You opened the door, startled. 

"Chan?" 

Your brother was pink in the face and his eyes wide as he squeezed inside your room and closed the door behind him. 

"Shhh! You will not believe what is happening downstairs!" Chan hissed. 

You raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"We were all in the drawing room- and suddenly Viscount Hong and Father went into Father's study alone. Even Jihoon and Seokmin agreed that it was extremely strange for them to go off alone so I snuck into the study to listen in on their conversation and-"

"Chan!" you scolded him. "You cannot be eavesdropping on Father's-"

"You may scold me later! Only listen for now- Viscount Hong has asked father for permission to offer for your hand!" Chan whisper-yelled. 

You froze. 

"Sorry, my what?" you asked. 

"Your hand," Chan repeated. "In marriage?" he added unhelpfully. 

Your face felt hot. "Don't be foolish. You must have misunderstood their conversation. Viscount Hong would certainly marry a woman more suited to his station. To even suggest otherwise is nonsense-"

Chan looked angry. "I know what I heard, sister! He clearly said 'I seek your blessing to offer for your daughter's hand'- and surely, he is not intending to marry Lily!"

"He is not intending to marry me either-"

There was another sharp knock on your door and both you and Chan jumped, startled. You opened it to find a maid standing outside and she greeted you with a bow. 

"Miss Lee- your father has requested you to come downstairs to his study."

—-----------------------------------------------

You went downstairs in a mixture of disbelief and anxiety. It was impossible that Viscount Joshua Hong had made an offer for your hand- Chan meant well but he was hardly the most brilliant young boy of his age. He had clearly misunderstood something. 

You entered your father's study anxiously. 

"Father?"

Mr. Lee stood from his desk. Joshua was seated quietly on a chair across from it- his expression was unreadable. 

"Ah-daughter. Here you are. I believe the Viscount has something to say to you. I am afraid I left my pipe in the drawing room so I shall return to it. You may both converse here in my study."

And your father briskly left the room, closing the study door behind him and leaving you entirely alone with Viscount Hong. 

Oh no. 

Oh no. 

"Miss Lee?" Viscount Hong asked you gently as you stared frozen at the now closed study door. He stood and stepped closer to you. "Would you like to take a seat?"

You turned to face him sharply. 

"What is the meaning of this?" you demanded. 

Viscount Hong gave you a small smile. He seemed a little surprised by your sharp reaction but reached for your bare hand- you were not wearing gloves so his soft fingers glided over your knuckles- and gently drew you closer to himself. 

"Miss Lee. I suppose the present circumstances make my object in speaking to you here quite evident, but I will still pose the question to you," Joshua said slowly. His hand pressed yours. "Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

You felt faint. You could not make sense of what was happening. 

"But-but…" you stuttered awkwardly. "But why?"

Joshua looked taken aback. 

"Why?" he repeated. 

"Why would you want to marry me?" you cried.

Joshua let out a small, bewildered laugh. Your question seemed to amuse him. "Well- for the very reasons that any man would want to marry a woman, I suppose. For love! Should I perhaps have started with that instead of directly jumping to marriage?"

"Yes-I mean no-, I mean…" you trailed off and pulled your hand out of his grasp before moving to learn against the study table. "Oh my god, I feel rather faint."

Joshua followed you, concerned. 

"Do you need help-"

"I am fine," you brushed him off. Your heart was beating at an unnaturally fast rate and you worried that it might suddenly explode in your chest. "I just… I don't really know what to say…"

Joshua took a step back from you warily. 

"Am I to understand from your reaction," he began slowly and carefully, "that my affections are unwelcome?"

"No, not… not unwelcome, exactly, more shocking," you replied hastily. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down and digest this strange situation that you had suddenly been thrust into. "Viscount Hong, do you expect me to believe that out of all the beautiful, talented and rich young ladies of the ton, you are in love with me?"

The Viscount slowly kneeled in front of you and took your hand into his once more, with a soft smile. 

"I thought you would have noticed my affections. Perhaps I concealed them better than I imagined. I believed that my admiration for you was quite evident," Joshua said quietly. 

"Clearly it was not," you told him firmly. "I have it on quite good authority that there is a running bet in the assembly rooms regarding which young lady the eligible Viscount Hong will propose to by the end of the season, and I can tell you with absolute confidence that not a single person has put their money on me! Even Seokmin has placed his bet on the Duchess of Graham!"

Joshua took a deep breath and nodded. 

"I see my mistake."

"Do you?" you asked weakly. 

"Yes," Joshua replied simply. He stood up and stepped back from you. "I thought it was prudent to be a little more… guarded about displaying my affections for you in public but I see now that I should not have held back so much. You did not even realise you were being courted."

You stared at him. "I… I do not think anyone realised, Viscount Hong."

Joshua's cheeks flushed pink. "Yes- well. Allow me to remedy my mistake. I will retract my offer for your hand for the moment, Miss Lee, as I see now that I have been hasty. And instead, I seek permission to enter into a formal courtship with you."

"Ah…"

"I will court you for one month before I will ask you once again to marry me," Joshua continued. "And if by then you still do not believe my affections for you are true, I will accept your rejection as gracefully as I can."

You still could not believe it. The image- the thought of yourself marrying Viscount Joshua Hong simply would not manifest completely in your mind. Even when you closed your eyes for a brief moment and tried to picture Viscount Hong at the altar, you still saw him with women more suited to his station- the Duchess of Graham, Miss Jeon, Miss Williams…

"Do you really love me?" you asked him weakly. You hated how exposed and vulnerable you felt in this moment, looking up at this man that was better than you in every conceivable way. "Me? Out of all the more eligible young ladies in the ton… you are quite sure you wish to marry me?"

Joshua stepped forward and seized your hand before bringing it up to his lips. His fingers pressed softly but firmly against your knuckles. 

"I am sorry," he told you kindly, his dark eyes shining in the dimly lit study. "If I  have made you feel unworthy."

You swallowed. "It is not… it is not that you have made me feel unworthy, only-"

"Yes. I wish to marry you, and only you, Miss Lee. By the end of this month, I shall ensure that you will never again question my love or commitment towards you."

He turned and left your study. 

And so began, on a warm June night, your courtship with Viscount Joshua Hong- the most elite and sought-after bachelor in London.

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

A/N: As always, thanks for reading and feel free to share your thoughts or inputs!

Since Wonwoo and Joshua were neck-and-neck on the poll as of the time of me posting this, I've decided to go ahead with Joshua since his is shorter/simpler and we'll be doing Wonwoo next.

[dearyuls]

#. — chae yul x reader (she/her pronouns used.)

#. content warnings! — extreme yandere behaviour, failed recovery, obsession, stalking, kidnapping, murder, violence, blood and injuries, gore.

#. word count! — (so far) 13,500.

#. < full fanfiction, slowburn, no update schedule just whenever I feel like writing. only three chapter have been written so far, slow updates. also being crossposted on ao3 and wattpad as “ hand in unlovable hand”

#. > 0 | 1| 2 | <

PROLOGUE.

He swore to himself that this would be a new chance, he wouldn't waste the second chance at life that Eun Sian had graciously gifted him, in not ruining his life, that was all he could do in thanks to his dear person...well. Ex-dear person.

It was only one picture, he wouldn't let it get out of hand again, he probably wouldn't see you ever again, fate was cruel like that, and more than anyone, he knew he couldn't bend it to his will, even if he were to break all of his fingers doing so.

He had been moved far away from Sian, all on his own. A fresh slate. And, now he had no school to preoccupy himself with, he figured that finding a job would be the best thing for him to do in order to try and get his life back on track from the disastrous place he had steered it to, he blamed himself for it all, so, he decided he must be the one to fix it.

His father had given him the money to move in, and apart from that, he had no contact with his family in the slightest, he had no family left that wanted anything to do with him, he had no support system, and with this came more reason to job hunt, with no money he wouldn't be able to feed himself, or pay the bills he had.

Since he was already skilled in photography, that was the easiest first step in his mind, he'd build up a portfolio and become a photographer for events ,such as weddings, and put his prior experience to use.

It was a somewhat warm day in spring, Yul stood outside, camera in hand, snapping pictures of the scenery around him, he was just wandering around, finding whatever he saw pretty he wore a plain outfit, all black, with a hat on so that less of his face was visible, he was aware nobody that knew him could be here, they had actual lives to attend to, but, the thought of it happening but him on edge, he was lucky to be holding his camera or he would've bitten his fingernails half to death.

" At least it's a nice day out.." he mumbled to himself, as he moved to snap a photo of a water fountain that he had found in the middle of one of the nearby parks, surrounded by the greenery it made for an aesthetic picture, just what he was looking for.

CLICK!

The shutter went off and Yul waited to check the photo on the screen...

Fuck, He'd have to retake it, he couldn't have that person standing in the frame.

He looked up, he had to see if whoever you were had moved, and, it was as if the first domino had been pushed over, you were looking away, it appeared an orange butterfly had caught your attention, so you didn't make eye contact, but Yul felt his heart speed up. The rays of sunlight painted your face, the gentle breeze made your hair flow ever so slightly..and you were just wearing the cutest outfit..he wondered what Sian would look like if she wore it.

He slapped himself in the face. He hated the way he thought, he needed to stop thinking about her, it wouldn't get him anywhere. He wanted to change, it was what she wanted. He knew Sian would never wear a skirt like that, what a dumb thought.

By the time he'd finished his self argument, she had already gotten out of the frame, and Yul hesitated before taking another picture, he wouldn't delete the first photo, something compelled him not to.

He bit his lip, harsh, almost like trying to draw blood as he went back to the first photo, infact, your presence there seemed to elevate the scene, maybe it was better with you in it... the more he looked at the photo the more he seemed to agree.

He shook that feeling off and kept walking, he had to learn to do something by himself without the thoughts of her creeping in.

By the time the sun started setting Yul had already gone home, he felt strange, unable to take anymore pictures. His mood had turned completely dejected. It hasn't been all that great after getting out of hospital, he had been miserable despite trying, and today he just started to feel worse.

He was on his computer, which sat on a little desk in the left corner of his room. And was clicking through the photos which he had taken, figuring out which one would be the best to show to professional companies, he had only found two of actual quality for that day, and he clicked right, going to the next one, the one with that girl in it.

He zoomed in, and in and in.

He just sat in his dimly light room, illuminated by a single lamp, with his eyes pressed to the computer screen. Staring at you, Unblinking.

He stared, and stared, and stared.

It didn't take him long to realise he was being creepy, this behaviour wasn't right. He needed to stop.  In the short time he was at therapy, he had been taught a few ways t stop himself when he got all worked up like this, but, it was a shame he couldn't remember a single one of them.

It had been some time since he showed proper interest in anyone, and, you were just some random girl, he wouldn't let it get any worse again, he didn't even know your name or anything, plus he didn't even know anything about you.

Despite the kind look on your face and your general demeanour, you could still be a serpent lying beneath.

Why was he even questioning any of that? He didn't even know you, why was he trying to figure out what kind of person you were? He shook his head, minimising his gallery before closing his computer completely, maybe he was just feeling vulnerable and this is why his strange feelings started to act up again..

Yul had no other explanation outside of it being that, so, he decided to try and sleep it off. He got up from his desk and draped himself over his bed, staring up at his empty walls. With no pictures spread over them, it didn't look right, he could just imagine her face staring back at him...but she wasn't there. She had abandoned him she was horrible she was

Something he no longer needed to worry about, he reminded himself. He had no right to be angry.

He just needed to search and find something to overwhelm the still lingering feelings he has,  or he needs to actually get better, one of the two, he'd settle for.

[haine-kleine]

A potential I wish I could see more of in this fandom is the League on their days off. Same way we briefly saw Jin before the Overhaul arc.

Just like the heroes, the villains have their villain costumes, which they put on for 'work'. Unlike the heroes, who are prevented from having this due to PR and public's overall perception of them, the villains can just take those costumes off to blend in with the crowd without being noticed. As we already know, for Shigaraki just taking off his 'family' is enough.

To Toga, the highschool girl uniform serves as a disguise similarly to how Monoma's hero costume does. But combined with her distinctive red spider lily hairstyle, it makes it fairly easy to recognize her. So on her days off crime duty, she dresses as a regular girl, sometimes stealing Shigaraki's hoodies, opting to experiment with her hairstyles.

Similarly to her, Twice's villain costume comes out only on the days they have work scheduled. Otherwise, he shows up on his regular civilian clothes. After Kamino, they tried to make him wear something else instead of his usual mask for secrecy reasons, but after he turned up with a paperbag on his head, Shigaraki mercifully allowed him to wear whatever he wanted.

Mister Compress tries to keep his fancy villain suit for memorable occasions (the state it was in by the My villain academia arc was truly devastating), so usually he dresses like this.

Spinner's Stain cosplay stays in the closet most of the time. Usually he joins Shigaraki's pajama party, especially during their gaming marathons. Due to his trauma, it's hard to get him to go outside and when he does, he tries to cover as much of his body as possible. Once Shigaraki notices this, he makes sure to join Spinner outside as often as he can. After Shigaraki decays two people who gave Spinner trouble for his quirk, Shuichi stops covering his face and hands as much. It's also the reason they targeted that heteromorphobic cult specifically in MVA introduction.

After his face being seen had led to them almost being captured, Dabi starts hiding himself behind long sleeved high collared hoodies and huge sunglasses. Compress and Toga attempt to make him dress more normal and channel his inner emo aesthetic more than amateur drug dealer, to no avail. Indoors, he tends to ditch the three layered black outfit and go for loose shirts and shorts that won't catch his staples by accident with one wrong move. Also, when no fateful meetings with oblivious family members are scheduled, he tends to forego doing his hair. Attempting to avoid infection from the chemical dye when you are a walking open wound is more hassle than it's worth, so for quick villain outings or his meeting with Hawks, he throws a cap or a hoodie on and calls it a day.

Shigaraki dresses exactly the same as he does when on villain duty, minus the hands. Even though it's convenient, it pisses him off how easy it is for him to blend in and go around unrecognized. When the League gets more popular and their merch replaces Stain's, even having Father on his face can get in the way of his recognition as the Symbol of Fear, when teenagers compliment him on his sick Shigaraki cosplay.

I'd say Kurogiri remains just as well dressed and proper as usual whether he is working at the bar, chaperoning Shigaraki or has a day off, but the image of him channelling his inner Shirakumo and going around naked is just too funny to pass up. He sends the entire League into hysterics, but he is mist, what improper is there about being mist without any clothes on?..

[cypressvs]

STAR CROSSED LOVERS

pairing: dan heng/gn!reader, gepard landau/gn!reader, jing yuan/gn!reader (separate)

cw: spoilers about character lores

wc: 0.8k | join the taglist

DAN HENG stares blankly at the console in front of him. Protected by the four walls of the train's archives, he allows himself the luxury of pressing his lips into a torn frown. Seconds pass by with each tick and yet he remains unmoving, as still as the illusions of the past that he can never seem to outrun. The faint scent of roses—foreign in his room and tearing apart the more rustic aesthetic crafted by towering bookshelves and asymmetrical ceilings—remove him from his trance. Tenderly, with all the care he could muster in his war-stained hands, he brushed his thumb over a petal. For a moment, he imagines that the red on his skin was not from grotesque memories but from the love-worn warmth of the roses and its sender's rouge print on its accompanying letter. He breathes and the scent fills his lungs. You fill his lungs and his heart quenches with a thirst that can never be quelled. Finally, he moves away from the screen, treading towards the faux sky on the other end of his room. He spies a lone star and similarly alone in his space, he whispers forlornly with a vulnerability he can only afford to show now.

"I'm going to have to leave you eventually." Lashes fan against pale cheeks before settling into a mournful close. "For your sake, I pray that you don't get too attached to me."

GEPARD’s armor clicks and clangs with each step he took forward. He smiles at familiar faces, nods at other patrol guards’ salutes, and stops to help grandmothers cross the rail tracks. He shakes his head at their words of thanks, saying that it was his duty as the Captain of the Silvermane Guards. At that, he receives an adoring shake of heads before they all eventually part ways. Courageous, he might be, but he’s stubbornly self-sacrificial to the point of no return. The tram’s ringing bells snap him out of his thoughts and he moves to resume his patrol. However, before he can take another step forward, he sees a once-friendly shadow. One he’d meet with an adoring smile, one he’d come home to with a needy hug, one he’d loved in his youth’s years and continue to love now in his matured present—a suffering reserved to an unwavering affection that perseveres throughout the years. His sudden pause catches your attention and you flash him a reserved smile; the kind you’d offer awkwardly to a figment of a past you wish you could run away from. Suddenly, he’s thrown back to that fateful night three years ago. The salty streak that plagues his tongue, the gloved hand clenching his chest, the guilt that flushed his cheeks as memory of missed anniversaries and birthdays resurface once more. He remembers your pleading sob—the desperation that made your hands claw desperately into his arms.

"I love you.” He mumbles, nearly unheard among the hiccups and gasps shared by the two of you. “I love you,” he repeats, “but you deserve so much more than I could ever offer you."

JING YUAN likes to think that years of experience has made him capable of rendering all adversaries that may come his way into a fond memory to look back on hundreds of years later down the line of his abnormal lifespan. However, some days, the taste of the tea he drinks leaves him sentimental, memories of tears and glee alike filling his mind with a bittersweet respite from its business. Nostalgia is a double-edged sword, he thinks to himself as he sips on his porcelain cup. The familiar teahouse morphs into an empty field. The wooden sword on his hand is lighter than the one he wields now and the expression on his face is one more similar to that of a naive child trying to rush into adulthood. If only he could tell himself to take it easy, to let the years work him gently, then perhaps his misery would at least be halved. His master nods to acknowledge his efforts but the sceneries change once more and his weapon is now of metal and there is nothing but undying death in his master’s visage. Lightning strikes and blood is spilled and he is once more back to his reality, relishing in the gentle sounds of the wind chimes and the peace that washes over him as he hears you laugh behind the counter. Feeling a gaze on your back, you turn around only to see no one. Just an empty cup and an indescribable weight on your heart. 

“How strange…” He hums as he walks back to the Seat of Divine Foresight with his arms resting on his lower back. “To think that I would find myself eager to sacrifice something of my own happiness in order to make sure you're safe…”

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