#ask miraculous england

[imthepunchlord]

So for the Off To series, I'm sure how much thought you've put into them, but what are the potential villain ideas for those stories? Would they be evil miraculous users or would you go for that magic vs magic you mentioned you would have liked to see? Off the top of my head I could see vampires in the Off to London story (though that could be all the Dracula stuff I've been watching talking).

A lot of this info I'm going to go ahead and share cause idk when the Off to series will come out. I haven't even started writing them, and I'd rather see Copycat, Manynette, and Dodged a Beetle done/farther along first. I also still need to sit and watch videos for the settings I'll be writing in, which I won't promise a 100% accuracy, but I am going to learn for the settings and do the best I can (which if there are any corrections to make when these fics come out, do please let me know if something needs to be changed or is wrong).

So, Off to London I haven't thought too much about aside from knowing for sure that Quantic Kids, Felix, and the waiter seen in concept art will be major characters alongside Marinette. Villains really has yet to come to mind. Vampries could work as there was a vampire villain in Pixie Girl.

But otherwise, villains have yet to really come to mind.

By default Felix will be antagonistic. There's that.

Also, some older designs that were really different than what we got will probably exist in Off to London as background classmates. One of these characters will even make an early appearance in the next chapter of Copycat.

Though, Off to Milan I had a lot more ideas for villains. I don't have a whole story planned out, but I do have some villains/antagonists.

Lila Rossi will be for sure, though probably more of a starting villain/antagonist since she is set to go to Paris after a while (towards the end of s1). As it's a given she'll be in Paris for the rest of canon, she probably won't be involved in any Miraculous or magic activity. She's just a two faced bully. She may be confirmed magical in some way and that's how she's able to lie and manipulate so easily but that's a thought for later.

Now other villains/antagonists, they exist through Pixie Girl, as she's one of the few concepts that showed off quite a bit of the cast and potential allies or threats and Off to Milan was planned to largely work off the mages we see as the antagonists.

Idk what's going to go on with them. Don't know what the goal will be. Don't even quite have down what they can do, but there are a few details I have down that are for sure:

They are a descendants of a long line of black mages, hailing from a magical clan/coven that has been kinda dying out, maaaaaybe descendants of Morgana le Fey; if so the family would definitely stick to le Fey as the surname, otherwise the surname will be related to night or darkness

The twins names are going to be Scarlet and Jasper, Scarlet is the more hotheaded of the two, very competitive and looks down on others, while Jasper is a little more toned down and sly; Scarlet is the favorite/preferred of the two, and likes combative/destructive magic, Jasper is more artistic, the dark artist, if you will; honestly these two will probably have some inspirations from Zuko and Azula

Pixie is set to have a crush on one of the two and it's enemies to lovers; initial plan is Jasper playing off that it seems Pixie had a crush on a boy and I think the initial plan was kinda another Love Square scenario between Pixie and the Wizard; but not a 100%, that's more of what I predicted, if the show ever came out.

I am pretty open on potential ships for Off to Milan, so Pixie can easily crush on Scarlet instead. Honestly, only for sure I have is Pixie crushing on one of the twins and everything else is pretty open to happen.

And that's pretty much all I got planning wise that is for sure for Off to Milan. I will say, IF the specials for Lady Lion and Lady Butterfly do come out before this fic does, then any villains introduced could wind up included.

Though it would be a little bit of a bummer cause I wanted to try and play around with these characters before they became official but given my writing progress, if it happens, not the end of the world. I'll just make the necessary adjustments and we keep on keeping on.

#ask Punchie #ml fic #off to series #off to au #off to italy #off to milan #off to england #off to london #miraculous concept #pixie girl #lady lion #lady butterlfy #lila rossi

[priniya]

hii, this is very specific but do you think you could write something involving fem!reader who grew up with sirius and they’re childhood best friends (but it’s only ever going to be platonic between them) and one day she transfers to hogwarts and immediately has a thing for james, however james doesn’t wanna make a move because he thinks her & sirius have some unspoken thing? <3

UNSPOKEN THINGS!

synopsis. growing up with sirius black was easy, but falling in love with his best friend was even easier. however, everything gets complicated — james keeps his distance, overthinking your relationship with sirius.

notes. i wouldn’t lie if i said i didn’t like that request, because i LOVE IT!!!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING SM?? obv. james potter x fem!reader. maybe ooc james. gonna make a part 2!

all the good things that had taken place during your childhood had always happened with sirius black by your side. having him next to you was like a pearl you’d never trade for anything. sneaking out at night as children to spend a little more time with each other, pulling small pranks on your siblings, and having a companion for every banquet was something priceless.

you wished that your friendship would survive the sudden shift, caused by your mother’s dream to come back to her roots in southern france, and who was your father to disobey the love of his life? so, he barely turned eleven, when you bid goodbyes, gave him your future address, and hoped he’d write.

since sirius black has always been a man of his words, he did not disappointed you with the amount of letters he’d sent you. some may think that it slowly died down, when you got to school, although it just intensified. you were certain that he told you at least the majority of his stories, confiding in that he was head over heels with remus, his schoolmate.

telling him you were coming back to england was definitely the letter you were delighted to write. seeing him after those years was magical — almost miraculous. unfortunately, something got delayed and you got to london the same day you’d leave for hogwarts.

“sirius!” a laughter left your mouth as soon as you noticed the black-haired boy, standing next to a group of teenagers. before sirius even realized, you threw your arms around his neck, clutching him in a tight hug.

“you’re finally here!” he shouted, lifting you few inches off the ground with a smile, earning a lot of confused looks from all his friends. “couldn’t get any later, could you?” the boy rolled eyes at you, turning his head to face the confused group. “this is y/n, my first best friend.” with that, his arm was thrown around your shoulder, squeezing you a little.

before any of them spoke out, you got at least two seconds to look at them, memorizing their distinguished features, which could help you recognize them later. the boy standing the closest to you, who, you guessed, was james — the only one beside remus that sirius actually put a thought into writing about.

“nice to meet you.” he was first to greet you, embracing you in a short hug, something in his cologne almost made you lightheaded, his scent staying in your mind till falling asleep that night. “sirius couldn’t stop talking about you, always blah blah blah.”

“shut up, could you?” sirius retorted, pulling you away from the potter boy.

few hours later, you were trying to settle in your new dorm, when you heard a knock on the door. “hey.” a head peaked inside before you even got to open them. “am not interrupting something, am i?” potter asked, smile rosing on his lips as he walked in.

“noo, just trying to make this place more like mine, you know?” you smiled back, putting down a few frames with photos of you and your friends back in beauxbatons. “while you’re here, could you help me with putting books on the shelves?” curly-haired boy nodded his head eagerly, before taking a pile of books to put them where you wanted.

it was almost perfect — he was about to put the last one in its place, but something was wrong, and the book fell down, and hit him right in the nose, causing a nosebleed. “shit!” he groaned, immediately grabbing the hem of his shirt, using it like a tissue.

“merde, james i’m so sorry.” you mumbled, embarrassed. the towel quickly found its way to your hand, putting it close to his nose gently. “i’ll try to be as gentle as i can, i promise.” you whispered.

the distance between you was intimidating. his eyes focused on your faces as you carefully tried to stop the bleeding, your cheeks getting warmer with each second his sight was on you. “i’m a man made of steel, it’s fine.” he chuckled, eyes squinting right afterwards.

“i can see that.” you laughed softly, pulling the fabric away, seeing that the bleeding stopped. “don’t worry, you’re still the pretty boy you were before you got here.” blush creeped onto his cheeks upon hearing your comment.

and you stayed like that until sirius stepped into the room without knocking, catching the two of you barely inches away from each other, talking in hushed voices about something insignificant. music you like, movies you want to watch, fun summer stories and anything that found its way to your tounges.

the next few weeks were horrible, having yourself busy with all the workload you got, revising all the things you weren’t taught at your previous school, but they were compulsory at hogwarts. maybe if a certain curly-haired boy wasn’t on your mind 24/7, it’d be easier to study.

“y/n, good to see you!” marlene smiled, grabbing your arm as you were walking back to the common room after the study session you had at the library. “ready for the party?” she asked, grinning widely.

the question had taken you off guard — there was supposed to be a party and you were supposed to be ready by then? to be honest, the amount of time you put into studying, made you so exhausted you were barely standing on your own. on the other hand, the raging urge to impress sirius’ friends (specifically james) was unstoppable, and refusing the party was the last thing on your priority list.

“i’ll be in thirty minutes.” quickly, you matched her smile, stepping into the already crowded gryffindor common room, only to find sirius on the coffee table with james. “guys, this is my best friend, y/n! the party is for her!” your best friend shouted to the people, earning a few laughs and claps.

you laughed along the people, catching a brief glance of james, locking eyes with him for a little too long until he looked away, cheeks tinted pinkish. “geez, pads. let the poor girl change…?” mckinnon shook her head, pulling you away from black.

“so…” she beamed, closing the door behind her. “what’s going on with you and james?” she asked with ease, making herself comfortable on your bed, watching your inept attempts to hide how easy it was for james to make you lit up.

“nothing.” you shrugged. “geez, i feel bad for saying this since he’s sirius’ other best friend, but sometimes i really wish there was something going on. you know, he’s kind, funny, and cute.” a sigh escaped from between your lips as you looked through all the cute dresses your older sister made you buy last summer in italy.

“that’s what i thought.” she giggled, picking up makeup accessories. “well, from the way he looks at you, he seems to think you’re cute too.” she made a pause. “or he’s jealous of you, and doesn’t want to lose sirius.”

upon hearing that you decided to tell the blonde girl about those few evenings, when he just happened to be walking past your dorm and stayed with you for the whole night. “then he’s definitely interested in you.” marlene gasped, immediately jumping onto the spot next to you, grabbing the fitted, silky, red dress. “we’re gonna make him make a move. i swear, this boy won’t be able to stop himself.”

twenty-five minutes later, when you were already done with shower and trying to convince marlene to let you do make up on your own (which didn’t work out and she wanted to do it herself), you were sitting in front of the girl, legs crossed as she did the perfect line on your eyelid, once in a while stealing a glance of your bra.

“think about me if things are shitty with potter, yeah?” her smile made you roll eyes jokingly. “okayy, let’s take a quick pic of the masterpiece and go.” she quickly grabbed the camera from a shelf, snapped a picture of you, and her in the mirror, and left the room shortly after.

you remember the look james gave you, when he finally noticed you came back. he didn’t know if it was just him, but you looked like you could compete with world-level models. seeing you like that caused his heart to do a flip. just when he was about to walk up to you, sirius found his place somewhere next to you, close enough to sent james a signal to back off.

potter instantly assumed that there had to be something between the two of you, mostly by how touchy sirius would become whenever you were around, having his arm thrown around your shoulders or always somehow embracing your waist. and stealing his best friend’s girlfriend was the last thing he ever wanted to do, even if he felt he clicked with you.

as soon as sirius handed you the red cup filled with a liquid you assumed was alcohol, you let yourself forget about the whole thing with james. chugging down the cup as fast as you only could, trying to win the little competition with the black boy.

few hours later, when the entire party began to die down, james was trying to get to his dorm, completely sober, but then he noticed you sitting on the stairs, your knees and palms covered in blood. “shit.” he mumbled under his breath, debating in his mind if he should just walk the other way around or help you, and…

“what… happened?” he sat beside you, his stomach doing few more flips, seeing how your face lightened up at the sound of his voice. “y/n could you talk to me?”

“i fell down the stairs.” you grimaced, head leaned against his shoulder. “one of the seventh years suggested i should go to my own room, but i couldn’t move, ‘cos it hurts.” the grimace was replaced by a pout.

a sigh left his mouth as he picked you up, without saying a word — he believed it’d be easier to help you, and immediately leave than if he’d started a conversation with you. the whole walk to your dorm was silent, none of you hadn’t even let out a whimper until you were seated on your bed, while james tried to take proper care of your scrapped knees.

“are you mad at me?” you whispered softly, tilting your head to the side to get a better look at him. the sadness in your tone made his heart clutch. “why aren’t you speaking then? we hardly even talked today.” you added, when he just shook his head.

“i don’t want to do something, both of us might regret later.” his reply was strange, did he really think you’d regret anything that includes him in any way?

after that, the room remained silent — wordlessly, james handed you clothes that seemed like a good pyjamas material and turned away while you shamelessly changed. “can you stay with me?” you asked, stopping him in his tracks.

“of course.”

he laid down beside you, his eyes focused on the ceiling above. “have you ever thought how would your life looked like if you stayed in england?” the question left his mouth swiftly. “or if you never got back, do you think you’d fall out of touch with sirius?”

“there’s always a possibility that could happen, but i don’t think so, you know.” you answered, shifting on the mattress to see that he was already looking at you. “however, there were times when i thought he would throw away all those years of friendship.”

his curious gaze made you continue. “two years ago, he told me all about his plans with you. that you’d live together, far enough from his parents to not be threatened by them, but close enough to visit your parents every weekend. it sounds funny now, but all those plans — the apartment somewhere in the southern london, traveling and other stuff were exactly what we’d planned before i was forced to leave. that’s the only letter from sirius i didn’t keep. i couldn’t, it was a sign that the friendship wouldn’t last forever, so i burned it.” you shrugged, laying the fluffy blanket on top of your bodies. “i really wanted to hate you for this all those years, you know? but you seemed too fun to do so, coming here just made me more certain.” that was the first time in the whole evening that you’ve heard him laugh, feeling as if his normal self was coming back to you.

“look where we ended up.” the smile on his face was contagious. you beamed, laughing. you were so jealous of james two years earlier, and now you didn’t want him to leave the warm sheets of your bed. his face was getting so close to yours, you let yourself think he wanted to kiss you for a moment. maybe it was just the intoxication? “i don’t know where this might go, so i’m gonna say it know. i want us to stay on friends basis, please.”

and with those words it was your time to turn silent, acting sleepy to make him think you were about to drift off to sleep. “don’t worry, that’s what i wanted too.” you muttered with your eyes closed.

from that moment on, you hardly even spent time with james anymore, always finding an excuse to bail out if someone even suggested that you should hangout with them. the way you two acted was growing suspicious, and who would remus be if he didn’t notice?

“you’re sulking.” lupin retorted, when it was only james and he in their dorm, both pretending to not paying attention to one another. “care to elaborate? it’s been a month since you got so grumpy.”

“you won’t tell sirius?” potter tilted his head to the side, putting away the magazine he was reading and looked directly at his friend, who shook his head. “it’s about y/n.”

“so? you seemed to get along well when she got here.” remus frowned. “i mean-, you’re right, but then there was the party in october and uh, we almost kissed. i wanted to kiss her, but i quite panicked.” the seeker explained, making the werewolf to deepen his frown. “james, i swear to god what have you done?”

but remus already know. marlene had told him a few days after the party that the two lovebirds were drifting away, and prongs was definitely the reason of the sudden change in their dynamics. until now, he was just looking for a chance to speak with him about it.

“i said i wanted to keep it on friends basis, she rarely talks to me ever since.” he sighed, turning down the volume of the radio. “i really wanted to keep talking to her without breaking sirius’ heart if something between us happened.”

“wait.” the frown was now an unchanging part of remus’ face. “why do you think you’d possibly break pads’ heart if you started dating y/n?” lupin shifted on his bed, yet to connect all the dots.

james grimaced at the thought of his response, wasn’t it obvious? “well, it’s against the brocode to steal someone’s girlfriend, isn’t it?” upon hearing that, remus choked on water, confusing his friend even more.

“prongs.” the blonde boy laughed, making his way towards the other boy. “i believe that if you started dating y/n, sirius would be far from heartbroken, and he wouldn’t consider you a girlfriend thief.” another bursts of laughter escaped from between lupin’s lips as he clutched his stomach. “if you’d like to break his heart, you’d have to steal someone else, not a girl he considers a sister.”

all remus regretted that moment was that he left his camera at lily’s, so he was unable to capture the funniest expression on james’ face, he has ever seen. “you should really talk to her, to at least explain yourself.” he squeezed his friend’s knee in reassurance, before james stood up. “i’d look for her in marl’s dorm, if i were you.” he hinted, disappearing behind bathroom’s doors.

you sat on marlene’s bed with dorcas right next to you, her arm thrown around your shoulder as you drunk the wine, she bought specifically for that evening. it happened to be the day, when girls had their weekly girls’ night, so mckinnon thought you should tagged along.

the knocking on the door interrupted lily’s story about remus and hers trip to edinburgh last summer, and the one hot girl she met back then. “hey, is y/n there?” james’ voice rang loudly in the room, giving you shivers. you couldn’t have a day without thinking of him, could you?

marlene flashed you a look, before looking back at him. “i don’t know, do you think she’d like to talk to you?” she crossed arms at her chest, watching the rosing confusion on his face, before you appeared in the view, ruining the whole scary girl gig. “we’ll be right here, love.” she nudged you lightly as you walked out of the room, closing the door behind you.

“heard you were looking for me…?” you asked, muscles stiff at the thought of being one on one with him. “can we do it quickly? my wine’s bottle is probably emptied by dorcas now.” you chuckled, trying to sound as calm as you only could.

“i don’t want to be friends anymore.” his confession made your heart twitch. the alcohol running in your veins almost made you vulnerable in front of him. the sigh that left your mouth was his signal to realize you misunderstood him. “you really came up here to tell me that?”

it was getting pretty bad, and james knew, there was one thing he could do that wouldn’t mess up what he wanted to tell you. hands flew to your cheeks, cupping them with his palms as leaned in to kiss you. it was definitely unexpected — but you couldn’t resist him, the thing you’ve wanted so bad, finally came true. james’ lips on yours.

he took his time before pulling away, and when he did, you were reminded that there was world beside him. all the misery you were in was long gone, just by seeing the smile on his face. “i’m sorry.” the seeker began, his eyes tracing around your face but not stopping on your eyes once. “i misinterpreted the relationship between you and padfoot, and it got all messy in my head. i thought you two were… you know, a thing.”

a quiet chuckle escaped from between your lips, caressing his cheek gently with a thumb, involuntarily smiling at his vivid embarrassment. “james,” you spoke out softly, amusement still audible in your tone. “hypothetically, if sirius and i were a thing, would i really invite you to spend time in my room, one on one, always suggesting that you should stay overnight? you, my hypothetical boyfriend’s best friend?”

“well, i haven’t thought about it.” he shrugged, smile tugging on his face. “nonetheless, i’m taking you on a date, but don’t tell sirius. i’m sure he’s going to kill me for hitting up on you.” james scoffed, hair getring ruffled by his fingers.

“when did i agree on going on a date with you?” you asked, biting back a smile, at the same time trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “don’t worry, i’ve never told on a cute boy before.”

he opened his mouth to reply, but marlene opened the door and snatched you inside, before you could even react, her action earning a few laughs in response. “excuse me, lover boy, but the time is up!” the blonde laughed, visibly tipsy, and disappeared behind the door.

now, james potter had two things to do — figure out where should he take you out, and how to tell his best friend that he wants to date his childhood best friend.

#james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter angst #marauders era #marauders x reader #prongs x reader #sirius black x reader #marlene mckinnon x reader #marauders x you #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #childhood best friends #miscommunication #james potter x female reader #marauders one shot #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter one shot #james & peter & remus & sirius #harry potter fic #marauders fluff #wolfstar

[tryanmybest]

whatever's supposed to happen in season 3 aside, i'm delusional

please enjoy silly ideas about what muriel, crowley, maggie, and nina get up to while aziraphale's gone :)

maggie and nina RUSH to crowley once they find out aziraphale left

both of them know the feeling of rejection and they support him as much as they can

they give him helpful breakup advice and check up on him periodically

over time, the three become good friends

maggie and nina are endlessly curious about the whole heaven/hell/angel/demon/universe thing and crowley answers what questions he can

since crowley's still not bound to hell, the three of them just vibe most of the time

muriel joins them on occasion, when they're not reading a new book

crowley, despite maggie and nina telling him it might be better to keep his distance from the shop for a bit, checks in on muriel and teaches them how to properly take care of the bookshop

as in, don't sell any of the books, don't rearrange any of the books, close and open whenever you want, etc.

occasionally, muriel, maggie, and nina will organize sort of "storytimes" where crowley shares some stories from his past

it starts with the ones without aziraphale. it's still a bit too raw to tell those.

but, eventually, he tells the story of elspeth in edinburgh. or the lost unicorn on noah's arc (which maggie swears she knew were real this whole time)

maggie and nina also teach muriel how to properly blend in with humans

they're not the BEST at it, but they're good enough that they can go get hot cocoa from nina's shop without people staring at them

crowley teaches muriel how to perform miracles. although, angelic miracles are just a bit different than demonic ones. so they both kind of figure it out together

muriel ends up miracling aziraphale's wardrobe to fit them. those are the human clothes they have access to, afterall.

and, besides, the style suits them.

crowley smiles at the look and doesn't comment on it. and nina gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

muriel shares the stories they've read with maggie, who listens enthusiastically

nina suggests muriel write a story of their own

regular customers at give me coffee or give me death now recognize the bookshop owner often in the corner pondering a laptop

nina taught them how to use it. crowley whispers to them that if they tell the laptop what to do with a bit of miraculous energy, it's a lot easier

maggie shows muriel some music. it's so much better than the celestial harmonies that they've had to hear for all these years

they end up liking everything they're shown. from aziraphale's old classical records they found in the bookshop to the queen that plays from crowley's car

muriel adores the bentley. and the bentley eventually warms up to them.

crowley takes muriel to see more of earth, once

well, more of england anyway

there's one time during the drive that the queen melts into an unfamiliar song. something about angels and nightingales.

crowley puts a fist to the dash and it switches back to queen before muriel can grasp what it is

while they're far from the city, the stars are much brighter

muriel hasn't had the chance to see them until then

and crowley tells them another story. about nebulas and galaxies and how they're made. and how gorgeous they really are up close.

muriel doesn't understand why crowley gets so sad talking about something he loves

sometimes residents of the street ask where mr. fell went

maggie and nina will respond that maybe you should mind your own business and they're sure he has his reasons

muriel will smile and say that he's gone on to heaven. then get confused when people offer their condolences

crowley doesn't say anything.

ms sandwich can put together that aziraphale and crowley were an item, though.

and she can certainly see that they aren't anymore

eventually, after a few months, maggie and nina start officially dating

muriel happens to be reading some of aziraphale's romance novels, and they find nina and maggie's relationship utterly adorable

if they ever mention as much tho, nina will tell them to piss off while maggie gets flustered

once, muriel asks maggie and nina when they figured out that they had feelings for each other

crowley is around at that time

muriel, excited by maggie and nina's answers turns to crowley and starts to ask him when he realized he was in love with aziraphale. but they trail off

nina had told them that crowley's not great at talking about aziraphale all the time

they have to wait until he brings it up, okay?

muriel apologizes, but crowley waves a hand

he explains the experience of the first rain

and maggie GASPS

"the rain! back when you were trying to get me and nina together! that was YOU."

crowley just offers a half-smirk and a thumbs-up

that's all ive got for now.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #ryans fic ideas #ryan wrytes!! #ineffable husbands #maggie and nina #do they have a ship name yet i haven't been paying attention #muriel #crowley #aziraphale #bullet fic

[possibilistfanfiction]

Surgeons AU - when they first meet 🫶🏼

[just a tiny bit of bea's pov, maybe i'll do ava's too tomorrow]

//

it would be both stupid and irresponsible to not know at least the basics about the interns you’ll be in charge of before they get there, so you know: ava silva, md, phd is quite impressive on paper. 

however: ‘silva, you’re with me,’ you say after you’ve introduced yourself to the small group and given the other four their assignments. as you take off down the hallway. dr. silva — beautiful, although that’s not a very professional thought as their boss — is wide-eyed and enthusiastic, far too talkative for you to really engage with at 4:30 am.

‘anyway, you don’t have to call me dr. silva. that sounds so serious. ava is fine, he/she/they pronouns, i don’t really care, it’s all fun to me.’

you nod, making note, but, ‘i’m going to call you dr. silva.’

he just laughs. ‘for now.’

you fight the urge to roll your eyes. ‘you worked with dr. salvius, for your doctorate?’ you ask while you wait for the elevator, for no reason other than that it’s the most normal thing to say and sometimes the way you were raised — polite smalltalk is better than silence —still overpowers.

dr. silva nods. ‘yeah. biotech stuff, neural interfacing, all that jazz.’

‘i read your research that came out this summer in the new england journal of medicine. it was quite fascinating.’ you refrain from saying amazing or incredible or groundbreaking or bordering on miraculous because dr. silva is grinning already. 

‘pretty cool, yeah? i want to go into neuro, mostly because i would hate for all that research to just get stuck in the lab.’ 

‘well, dr. superion is the best in the world.’

‘oh yeah, i know. she and jillian have a thing; it’s actually why i wanted to match here so badly.’

you ignore she and jillian have a thing for your own sanity, pushing the button on the elevator for the fourth floor, cardio. ‘it’s a great teaching program,’ you say, because it really is, all things considered. ‘if you need anything, these first few days especially, don’t hesitate to ask. i’d rather you reach out than do it wrong.’

her grin softens into a smile, singularly for you. ‘you’re much nicer than your vibe let on at first, you know that?’

you’ve spent your whole life trying to be kind, amidst a lot of cruelty. you know you’re contained, exacting, aloof, but you liked medicine in the first place because those things — your focus and your quiet — never stop you from being able to care for people well; dr. superion, especially, has taught you that those things can make you listen better, comfort more, explain procedures more clearly to your patients and your interns both — those things can be good.

dr. silva isn’t thrown off by your silence, which is both annoying but also something you appreciate. it’s going well; he’s talking about his research and the outdoor cat who lives by her capital hill apartment, but then she’s looking at the tablet — giving you your patient’s latest vitals like you asked, getting her back on track and focused at the task at hand — and runs right into lilith, rounding the corner.

lilith’s coffee goes everywhere, all over her the floor, and dr. silva’s tablet. 

‘god fucking damn it,’ lilith says, and dr. silva just looks on a little startled but also like they’re trying not to laugh — a horrible idea, if lilith’s pinched expression is anything to go by.

you apologize to lilith, which prompts, thank god, dr. silva to also apologize. lilith hurries off, cursing — not too quietly — at her ruined scrubs, and dr. silva turns to you, a little sheepish.

‘she’s hot,’ he says, then clamps his mouth shut. ‘my bad; it’s so early.’

you roll your eyes. ‘wipe off that tablet off. we’ve got rounds.’

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #surgeons au #butch bea 🥺🫡 #truly disasters both of them

[mrs-monaghan]

Tae is traveling to US tomorrow (confirmed) and JK will be in the US on 28th so yeah again jokers being proven wrong. Taekook will be together like the happy couple they are and spending their time together bfo MS. Jimin will be back in Korea after filming a company contact. At the end of the day you guys will always get peanuts as we enjoy the whole buffet. Stay strong

At the end of the day you guys will always get peanuts as we enjoy the whole buffet. Stay strong

Boo, it's the other way around!

We get fed... while you starve. Time and time and time and time and time and time again. Rinse and repeat over and over and over and over. Simply because JK would rather spend time with his boyfriend; Jimin. Would rather react to his boyfriend Jimin's content. Would rather mention his boyfriend Jimin during his lives 10 times. Would rather go to Tokyo twice with his boyfriend Jimin. When it comes to JK its always going to be Jimin. So no, anon, we get the buffet, you get the peanuts. It's how its always been and how its always going to be. Look at your leader on twitter losing it because of the barely there tkk content from PTD

The moment u sent this ask I knew I had to save it because y'all, just, can't, help, yourselves. No matter how many times you get proven wrong. You always jump the gun. You always put the cart infront of the horse and it always comes to bite you in the ass. I am here to laugh at you because I for one didn't ask you to bring this nonsense to my blog.

Y'all said that tkk were on a date by themselves in the US. Wouldn't listen when people tried to tell you that wasn't true. And then what happens? We get a video showing ALL 7 MEMBERS WERE PRESENT!!!

You anon, came here, to me, (big mistake. I'm petty as hell) and said V was going to the US and there he will meet JK and they will be together. Only for it to come out that V was coming here... to England.

So idk who confirmed for you he was going to the US. You need to go get your money back ASAP. 😅😅

But miraculously you're still not as bad as this person who thought V would Join Jikook in Japan and Taekook would be kind enough to invite Jimin to their house 🤡🤡 for dinner. The house that they, tkk, own together... in Japan

You, stupid, brainless anon even had the dates wrong because today is the 28th and Jikook are on their way back to Seoul

Would it kill you to be patient?? Who tf even gloats when you don't even have the full picture??? When you don't have enough evidence?? Do you feel as pathetic as you sounded when u sent this ask? Because anon, you should. U really should. This is pathetic. You are dumb... oh so so dumb. But thats like a requirement to be a tkkr innit? To be an imbecile??

How are you real actual people????? No wonder you still think that wasn't V in Paris. BECAUSE YOU DONT EVEN KNOW THE 2 PEOPLE YOU SHIP!!! If you don't even know how they look like, how can you know them for who they really are?? This is why you're always gonna be wrong!!

Anon, next time you wanna gloat, please, please wait until your theories pan out, save yourself some embarrassment. Now leave and never come back... I'm done with your pathetic ass. Shoo!

#bahahahahahahahaha!! #oh that felt good #Taekook is not real #accept it or cry forever #bts ask #ask shaz #the vermin #pathetic #the fuckery

[littlemisspp]

A Twist of Fate: Part 4

Summary: Sebastian miraculously returns to you and you share a wonderful night together.

A/N: This does contain adult only content. 18+ only. As a reminder, all characters are 25.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Not a sound could be heard except the even breaths falling from Leander’s sleeping form. Restless, you turn onto your back and stare up at the wooden ceiling. You could feel the droplets of sweat forming on your skin as you tossed and turned under the blankets. 

With one last sigh, you flip the quilt aside and slide out of bed, careful not to wake Leander. Padding down the hallway and down the stairs you pour yourself a glass of water and chug it down, pouring yourself another right after.

The last two days have felt heavy. Ever since Ominis and Vera left, you felt a sense of coldness from Leander. It didn’t take long for you to conclude that Ominis shared the details of their visit with him. Something inside nagged at you, begging yourself to speak up and settle things with Leander, but you didn’t want to. Easing the tension with him would mean disowning your alliance with Sebastain, and that is something you would never ever do. 

This thought process brought you to another conclusion: you did not want to get married. The sparkling rock that clung to the metal on your finger mocked you each time it shined in the sunlight. Your entire life’s plan suddenly became a nightmare. The mer consideration of spending your life with Leander made you feel anxious. He was not the one.

But what could you do? What other prospects did you have? Sebastain was surely long gone by now. Even so, he could never settle in England- not with the entire wizarding community looking for him. The engagement jewel on your finger also served as a life raft. This engagement was your promised destiny of a mediocre life. Could that be so bad?

Settling the glass back down on the counter you sigh, running a hand through your hair. Seeing Sebastain two days ago had shook you to the core and rattled every belief you thought you held close. But that did not surprise you, you always knew Sebastain held that type of power over you. For the last two days you questioned why you had declined his request to run away with him. Standing now, in your kitchen in Chelsea, you wanted nothing more than to be swept off your feet by him. 

But there you stood. Alone, barefoot in the darkness as the sound of dripping water from the facet echo against the bottom of the basin. 

In hopes to ease your nerves, you open the door to the backyard and step outside, the cold night air making goosebumps rise on your skin. You quickly cross the garden and slip open the door to the shed, allowing yourself to exhale happily as you see the old leather chair in front of you. The chair held the only recent memory you had of Sebastain, and being near it calmed you. 

Gently sitting down onto the leather you allow yourself to cry. Not a loud sob, but a soft shedding of tears that allows yourself to feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders. Crying made you feel like you could finally express what the inside of your mind felt like. 

You stay like that for hours. It was comforting to be alone with your thoughts until a loud banging sound catches your attention. Standing abruptly, you wipe the tears from your eyes and watch the door knob of the shed’s door turn. You brace yourself to answer the questions Leander will throw at you until you find yourself looking at a different man entirely.

“Sebastian?” you gasp. Your first instinct is to pinch yourself. You had to be dreaming.

“Y/N” he replies, looking you up and down. 

“Are you real?” You ask, baffled. 

You hear him chuckle as he steps closer to you, his hands gently resting on your shoulders, “Yes, Y/N. I am real”

“I don’t understand,” you confess, “I thought you left? I thought you would be on your way to America. Why did you come back here?”

“For you” he replies, his voice filled with certainty. “I couldn’t get myself to board the ship. Not knowing you’d be an ocean away from me. I thought I had lost you once, I can’t go through it again”

“Oh, Sebastain” is all you can say before he crashes his lips to yours.

In all your years of knowing Sebastian, he never kissed you. Of course, you had wanted him to, but the two of you were too nervous to make a move. You were children back then. You were discovering love and lust for the first time. And now, in the shed, all the love and lust you had built up for him finally had an outlet. 

Within a few moments he is walking you both backwards, his body finding the seat of the leather chair so you can safely climb into his lap and straddle him. At first, the kisses were loving and sweet, but as they went on the true passion began to erupt. Kissing him felt like the best sensation you had ever dreamed of.

“Oh my” you exhaled, feeling his rough kisses make a trail down your neck, “I have dreamt of this for years”

You feel him chuckle at your confession, his lips breaking contact with your skin too lock eyes with you. He sweetly reaches up to cup your cheek, “I have dreamt of this since the moment you walked into the Great Hall on your first day at Hogwarts”

Your heart soars at this statement as you connect your lips again, this time allowing yourself to run your fingers through his hair. His calloused fingers find the hem of your nightgown and you gasp when his palms make pure contact with your skin. He leaves a trail of fire on your skin as he makes his way up to cup your breast.

Playfully his fingers curve around your nipple and squeeze, making you moan into your kiss. Leander had never touched you this way. Of course, throughout your relationship you had slept together, but even after a few glasses of wine, your nights were never this passionate. Never this good. The only reason you could decide was because you simply never loved Leander. Not like the way you love Sebastain.

His fingers fidget with your breasts as you feel yourself grind against him- desperate for a moment of relief. You can feel yourself grow warm with arousal- like your entire body was on fire. 

“I need you” you tell him, breathless.

He only groans in approval of your statement, making the nerves in your body flare. He was so effortlessly sexy. 

Hastily you feel his hand leave your breast and disappear outside of your nightgown. His other arm is holding you steady against him while you discover he is undoing the button of his trousers. The moment he frees himself from the binding of his pants you grip him. You grin when a hungry moan escapes from his lips. Delicate movements up and down cause him to moan more frequently and it was driving you crazy.

“Sebastain” you say, your voice a raspy whisper. “I need you to fuck me”

A flush clouds your cheeks the moment the words leave your mouth. But before you have the time to reflect, you feel Sebastain lift you up into his arms and hastily lay you on the dusty floor of the shed.

His elbows rest on either side of you as he looks down, his fingers now taunting your entrance. He studies you closely as he gages the reactions of his movements, satisfied with himself when you squeeze your eyes shut with a moan. At that moment he decides you both had had enough waiting. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking down at you with a serious tone. “I want you to be sure, Y/N”

“I am sure, Sebastian” you reply, copying his tone. “I need you. All of you”

Without a delay he enters you with a slow thrust and you have to keep yourself from moaning loudly. He felt perfect to you. After a moment he moves again, your eyes fluttering closed happily as you feel him move for a third time.

“Faster” you say, quirking your eyes open, “Please”

“So impatient, you are” Sebastian smirks, looking down at you adoringly. The truth was, he had thought about this moment a million times. This exact scene, you under him with your hair fanned around you- was an image he thought of almost every night under his covers. 

To your satisfaction, he grants your wish and started to move faster. An entire new level of pleasure sweeps over you as another string of moans escapes you. The pair of you listen to each other's sounds for a while. Sebastian’s speed slowly getting quicker the closer the pair of you get to your climax.

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you, kissing him quickly as you feel yourself begin to near your peak. Breaking the kiss you turn your head, moaning as you tell him: “I’m close”

“Go on” he says, balancing himself on one elbow as his free hand lowers to help edge you along. The combination of his movements and his fingers drives you over the edge and you arch your back, a series of swear words flowing as you hit your grand finish.

A moment later you feel him twitch and the sudden rush of warm liquid inside you, signaling that he hit his limit as well. Panting, he closes his eyes to help catch his breath as he slides out of you and lays beside you. You watch him closely, studying his sweaty and flushed appearance. 

He reaches over to fix your night dress for you before he pulls his trousers back on, still lying on his back. Smiling, he turns and gives you a cheeky look.

“Oh stop” is all you can say, laughing gently with amusement, “Don’t give me that look”

“I’m not giving you any type of look” he defends, “I was only thinking about beautiful you looked under me just now”

You cover your face in embarrassment as a blush climbs up your cheeks.  You hear him chuckle as he slowly takes your hand away.

“I mean it, Y/N” he says, a note of sincerity in his voice, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

You can only smile at his words, tears pooling in your eyes.

“I’m so happy you came back” you admit, blinking as a tear rolls down your cheek. 

“I’d never leave you” he says, “ever.”

“And I’ll never leave you” you promise, watching him lean close to peck your lips.

The two of you lay there together for a few more hours, the sun now beginning to rise. Quietly, he helps you up and takes your hand in his own as he walks you back to the door of your house. You tip-toe inside and up the stairs, ever so gently pulling on clothes and throwing items into a bag. To your luck, Leander does not awake.

Finally, with a bag in hand, you walk back down the stairs and look around. Your fingers grip the cool metal of your engagement ring and slide it off your finger, gently placing it on the table. Sebatsain watches from the outside as you smile to yourself, opening the door and closing it behind you forever.

The only things Leander awoke to hours later was the water dripping from the broken faucet in the kitchen and the ring he once gave you on the wooden tabletop. By this time you and Sebastain had already boarded the muggle ship and started your life together.

In a beautiful twist of fate everything worked out the way you wanted it to.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow x yn #sebastian sallow x oc #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy hc #sebastian sallow hc #sebastian sallow angst

[oumaheroes]

ok ok I know you're probably busy and all and you just wrote something for an anon buuuuut im begging for some ireland and north bonding, i loved reading your england and north fic seeing england telling north no but north saying ireland would let him was hilarious tbh. need some irish bois being nice to eachother pls

All for you, Anon

------

Bog Bodies

On his haunches, North took a sip of water from his bottle with one hand and rummaged about his rucksack with the other. The findings were poor: some sandwiches at the bottom under his jacket, now partially squashed, a packet of crisps that had miraculously not popped after he’d sat on the bag forgetting that they were in there, and one lone chunk of Yellowman. Abysmal. He should have thought to pack more, he knew that this wasn’t going to be a short adventure. A Jammey Joey at least.

‘How long do you think they’ll be till they’re done?’ He asked his brother, glancing up at him and jerking his head towards the action they’d spent most of the day secretly watching. ‘Till they finish up here, like.’

Ireland shrugged lazily, ‘Until they’re done finding things, I expect. There’s a lot of peat to cover.’

‘Okay, how long till we’re done.’

‘Till it feels time to go.’

In comparison to North squatting on the floor like a grubby troll- he’d been standing for hours and he was tired- his older brother was leant against a wide, fat oak, his long arms crossed over his chest. He was looking at the happily buzzing archaeologists in the distance carefully, watching for their discoveries or any misbehaviour North couldn’t quite tell. The humans been there ever since the news of the headless corpse the day before, having swarmed the old bog as soon as they’d been alerted, and had been ferrying their equipment to and fro and generally making a big mess of the place ever since. Ireland and North had come to join them not long after, watching them map out the area and begin to excavate whilst the land owners waited on the sidelines.

North eyed Ireland’s own much fatter and well-stocked bag enviously, ‘They’ve already found the most important thing, though.’

Ireland snorted and grinned, ‘That’s subjective.’

‘Not really. Headless ancient corpse versus...?’

Ireland rolled his eyes but didn’t reply.

‘Could always be another in there, I suppose.’ North stood and shook out his feet.

‘Might well be. That sort of thing was common.’

‘They seem to be popping up all the time now.’

‘More in Denmark.’ Ireland ruffled his floppy hair off his forehead and recrossed his arms, ‘But different thing, obviously.’

A bog body was a bog body, as far as North could see. Tanned, leathery skin, well preserved nails and hair. Facial features which looked more lifelike than North would like if he were honest with himself, younger and closer to the modern day than could first be perceived considering the age of some of the finds. Many hundreds, sometimes thousands of years old. Where they came from and how they came to be in the bog in the first place was generally as unknown from one case to another, but the morbid curiosity about them was the same. Quick peeks into the past always held a draw.

This was different though, as Ireland had said. This was theirs. Or rather, the man they had found this time around chopped in half in the peat was Ireland’s.

More than even that, North realised. The discovery of this ancient person was more Patrick’s the person than anyone other than their close family would ever know. Someone he might once have known personally and things he might have owned, a culture he had once shared and understood and encompassed. His personal history as well as his people’s, depending on how old this particular find was.

‘You hoping they find something that you once dumped in there?’ North asked him, trying to sound nonchalant about the question.

Ireland let out a bark of laughter, ‘Not here. Might not look like much now but this place was special. Too special to piss about around.’

‘But you dumped stuff in other places, then.’

‘Not dumped.’ Ireland corrected, ‘I used to leave little wooden figures about here and there.’ He held up his hands about a foot apart, ‘Maybe this big. Added along to ceremonies people held or whenever I passed by alone.’

‘What for?’

‘What for is a question.’ Ireland frowned thoughtfully and glanced back out to the archaeologists. ‘Several reasons. Luck, offerings, promises. Can’t remember all of them. Copied what Mama used to do.’

Several branches of questions opened up at once. His brothers didn’t talk about their mother or childhood often- topics easily brushed off or for some reason hard to bring up in the first place- and North always felt uncomfortable poking at the former. Mama was a parent who was potentially his, but wasn’t, someone he felt that he should love and respect when she was as distant to him as a God was.

Sensing that this was an opportunity he shouldn’t waste, North carefully chose the avenue he felt would yield the most answers.

‘What were the idols of?’

‘People, Gods, us, animals.’ Ireland waved a hand, ‘I’ll make you one sometime. Been a while since I practiced. Or Alisdair can, his used to be half decent. Don’t ask Rhys though, his are shit.’

‘They might find one.’

‘Might do. Wood rots though.’

‘So does skin, and look what happened.’

A scurrying of men and women along their walkway and back to far afield cars made them both pause, something small and wrapped carried amongst them. The spiked edges of their talk floated back to their spot in the trees, high and excited. It was empty landscape, no human activity apart from the archaeology dig, but North could feel a thrum in the air, the last notes of what first called him and his brother to this place. Something he couldn’t name but which connected him to everything.

Stay, stay. Watch, and remember.

North wasn’t really too sure why he was here. This was his brother’s land after all, his brother’s ancient people and lost ways, not his, but still this was connected to him somehow. Or, it was better to say that it was something he was connected to, something that was apparently important for him to witness for his people’s benefit- the circle of time connecting him to his siblings’ past to fill him in on what he had missed.

There was so much of his brothers’ lives which came before him. North felt Croghan Hill at his back, heavy and looming in the summer sun. How many different peoples had that hill seen? How many of North’s own family, past his sibling’s mother and beyond? So many mortal lives caught in its shade, so many centuries before he’d even been thought of. What had any of this got to do with him, he who couldn’t understand the significance of what was being found.

‘This is for you too, you know.’ Ireland seemed to sense something of what North was thinking. He tilted his head to one side, his eyes still on the dig site and the treasures within, ‘All connects back to a point we’re both a part of.’

‘The bog bodies?’

‘Not just them, or any of what they find like this. What they represent.’ He turned to North, the usual jokey expression in his eyes replaced with something more serious, ‘It’s a culture that’s not here anymore but that is still a part of us, even if we can't see it. It matters the same to both of us.’

‘But it wasn’t mine is it.’ North dug his hands into his jean pockets, ‘I wasn’t alive to experience it. I don’t even know what any of that was for.’

Ireland looked at him, face unreadable, then looked away. ‘If you say so.’

North looked at him. ‘What?’

Ireland shrugged, ‘If you say so.’

‘What do you mean, if I say so?’

‘If you think this has nothing to do with you, then who am I to tell you any different.’

‘Wh- I don’t..’ North clicked his tongue, ‘What the fuck does that mean.’

‘What? You wanted me to tell you something different?’

‘No-‘

‘You want me to sit here and hold your hand and tell you there there babby, everything’ll be grand?’

‘No! Christ, fuck off, then.’

Ireland shrugged again, one armed and apathetic, and turned away. North felt his cheeks heat up.

‘It’s true, isn’t it? That out there’s for you, that’s your old people.’

‘Sure.’

‘Well then. Then, what’s it got to do with me?’

Ireland shook his head, his mouth downturned in disappointment or frustration. ‘Why are you asking me? You seem to have your own opinion.’

‘Why’d you have to be a cunt about it.’

Ireland snorted, ‘Being a cunt am I-‘

‘You are. You’re-‘

‘Rather that than a thick-headed child.’

‘-brushing me off, it was a valid fucking question.’

‘It wasn’t a question; you were simpering for something.’

North recoiled, ‘Simpering-!’

‘Aye, you were.’ Ireland’s cheeks were ruddy in the high way they did only when he got truly annoyed about something, ‘You wanted me to convince you that this does matter to you, give you a clean old line of evidence that you can take away and make yourself feel better with. I already did that enough and I ain’t arguing my point. You either take what I said and try to make sense of it, or you don’t. I’m not going to stand here and put up with you begging for validation.’

North clenched his jaw, his teeth aching with the pressure of not immediately shouting back.

‘People will take voiced doubt as truth.’ Ireland continued, stepping closer. He was still taller than North, still holding the upper ground, and North had for remind himself not to take the automatic instinct to step back, ‘Makes them question and think when they might not have done before. And you feeding into self-pity is pissing annoying. It’s pathetic; I don’t want to hear it.’

‘It was a question.’ North felt a shameful sting in his eyes. He pushed away the knowledge that his brother had hit on a truth he hadn’t him to voice, ‘I-‘

‘It wasn’t a question, don’t give me that. You wanted me to tell you why any of that-‘ a sharp wave of Ireland’s hand towards the humans on the bog, ‘-is for you.’

North swallowed, the core of it too cleanly said to deny, ‘Yes.’

Ireland shook his head, ‘Think for yourself, boy. Did you feel a need to come here?’

‘Yeah.’

‘If I hadn’t called you, if I hadn’t come, would you have anyway?’

North nodded. He would have, it wasn’t a feeling that could be ignored.

‘Then that’s your confirmation. That’s important for you and yours too, that’s it.’

‘But why.’

‘How the fuck should I know. I don’t have it all written down here in rules, now do I.’ Ireland moved back to his spot against the tree, standing there stiff, ‘You’re supposed to have a brain, you tell me.’

North shrugged helplessly, ‘Because my people are interested? Because it’s news. Because it’s an older culture of this island and people want to look for something recognisable that they’ve kept?’

Ireland’s expression didn’t change, ‘And what do you think is true?’

‘I dunno, all of them?’ North let out a breath, ‘A little bit of all of them for different people.’

As he said it, he felt that it was probably true. There wasn’t one good answer but the fact was that he was here to watch anyway. Ireland was right, that meant something, even if North didn’t know exactly what.

Ireland waited a while before speaking, as if he was waiting for North to say something more or question him again. When neither were forthcoming, he nodded and leant back more easily against the tree trunk, crossing his feet and the ankles to rest on his heels, ‘I’m not here because all in that there bog was a culture I was part of. I’m here to watch it dragged out of the dirt because it’s something that will mark the people today. Look for what’s the same and not what’s different, you’ll never get anywhere otherwise.’

The ancient hill and the shiny metal cars that now drove around it, small and modern under forgotten giants. The same could be said about them and the archaeologists: Ireland watching the return of something he’d lost, and North watching it unfold to learn what would become a part of him, as the humans picked it all from the peat. The old and new, two sides of the same coin used for any purpose humans chose.

North pressed his lips together, his throat feeling tight. ‘Yeah. I get it.’ He paused, ‘Thanks.’

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ireland shake his head with a small smile, ‘You called me a cunt.’

‘You are a cunt.’

‘Ouch.’ Ireland held a hand to his chest in mock injury, ‘That hurt my feelings.’

‘You don’t have any feelings.’

‘In that case, I won’t share what’s in my bag.’

North looked to it, then back to his brother. His stomach rumbled, ‘I was wrong.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re not a cunt.’

‘I know, I’m so lovely.’

‘What’s in the bag?’

Ireland toed it with his shoe and grinned, ‘Just cheese sandwiches.’

‘I take it back; you are a cunt.’

‘Your loss.’

--------

AN:

Bog Bodies are human remains found in old peat bogs. The make up of the soil- the lack of oxygen and the particular mineral make up- is wonderful for preserving organic material by tanning it to almost leather. The result is perfectly preserved people, down to the hair on their heads or the pores of their skin

This story is set in 2003 and the discovery of Old Croghan Man, noted in different sources to have been found in May or June near Croghan Hill which the man was named after. The hill is very old and part of ancient and surviving modern local mythology, but the area itself was also regarded as something very special, a portal from our world to another beyond

Bog bodies ended up where they did for a variety of reasons: murder, accident, or even sacrifice. The old Irish Kings, as is one theory suspected for Old Croghan Man, could be held responsible for bad weather, or a bad harvest, and sacrificed to appease the Gods in the bog

More sources, if you're interested:

Thanks for reading!

#aph ireland #hws ireland #aph northern ireland #hws northern ireland #hws british isles #heroes writes

[thiefbird]

E, n, u for the letters ask please! 🖖

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?

Yes, but not recently! These were back in early early high school. I wrote a very short, very bad Draco Malfoy/Apple(as in the fruit) fic once. I hope to god it has been lost to time. I will not tell anyone what my fanfiction dot net username was. I also wrote a Doctor Who/Supernatural/Sherlock/X Files/Star Trek: The Original Series/Warehouse 13/The Yellow Submarine(not Beatles RPF because the only character was Jeremy Hillary Boob, PhD aka The Nowhere Man)/Invader Zim crackfic extravaganza in collab with @gabrielnovakgoestomyschool (there may have been another fandom that I forgot). I do not know if it has survived the passage of time. I almost hope it did. They were all in this incredibly Escher-esque grocery store trying to get milk. I guess recently I accidentally wrote "Loghain Mac Tit" instead of "Loghain Mac Tir" when starting a post, took one look at it, and just posted it without further elaboration. I don't know if anyone ELSE thought it was funny, but I definitely did.

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

Anders - I love an underdog, I love a revolutionary, I love a pathetic tall man who looks like he hasn't slept in a month, I love a man who will make Those Sounds when he kisses me. Also he loves cats and complaining; same, Anders. More seriously, I think he's a deeply misunderstood character by both those around him in canon, by his writing team and Bioware as a whole, and by the general fandom(not any of my beloved mutuals, we are all in the Right About Anders club); despite this, I do think he is a cohesive character. I just don't necessarily think that he is a cohesive character on purpose. I love the implications of his bonding with Justice, and the avenues it opens up for writing. I fully believe that Anders believes that he corrupted Justice into Vengeance, and that Vengeance is a demon; I just don't believe it's true.

Stephen Maturin - Ohhh, Stephen, my beloved. Patrick O'Brian cooked you up in a lab specifically to make me insane (nevermind the fact that I was three years old when he died) - mine is a fated obsession, to the point that I actually had a crazy-dramatic, toxic relationship with an autistic Trinity College naturalist for four and a half years directly out of high school; my brain simply had not fully learned that Stephen Maturin existed (I'd seen the movie once or twice and listened to the soundtrack ad nauseum because of my mother but never payed much attention), and fixated on the next best thing. Here is my Stephen Maturin propaganda: He's a tiny, angry little man who calls animals and friends and his wife alike "honey" and "my dear" and "acushla/a chuisle" (I will never forget the "awwwwwwww" that came from my mouth the one time he called Tom Pullings honey). He calls his best friend "soul" and "joy", and his other best friend "honey-bun". He's an International Super Spy, one of the most effective in the British service, and refuses to be paid for it because he hates tyranny so much (he does not like English colonialism either, but he has decided that England is the best way to beat Napoleon). He's an Irish and Catalan revolutionary (I did say I love a revolutionary), who is somewhat in hiding in the first book because of his associations with The Society of United Irishmen, and therefore connections to the Irish Uprising of 1798. Despite this impressive resume, this man has never met a boat or ship he is not in danger of not falling out of - he has been at sea for the better part of twenty years by the end of the series, and he still must be Carefully Watched to make sure he does not drown, or get soaked through to the skin. He is an acclaimed surgeon, with a miraculous success rate. He is also a renowned natural philosopher who has discovered multiple species, including a giant tortoise. He is the least tidy or fastidious man in all of creation, and is constantly covered in blood and/or winestains and/or crumbs. He pours alcohol over surgical sites not because he knows of germ theory, but because he thinks it'll help with pain. The only non-familial friend he's had longer than Jack Aubrey(who lives longer than the first book. Sorry James, ily) is Adhemar de la Mothe, a known and flamboyantly queer Parisian. He regularly says that he does not see the harm in sodomy so long as no one is harassing the ship's boys, and that anything that adds more love to the world seems a good thing. He loses his mind over a woman, and the more awful she is to him the more he loses it.

Speaking of Diana Villiers - Oh, Diana. I am fully in understanding with Stephen over you. A beautiful, headstrong woman who can ride better than most men, stuck in the most boring atmosphere of Southern England with her aunt and cousins after the death of her husband and her father both made her leave India - I cannot blame her for many of her actions. Diana is a fascinating character, and to me she is proof of Patrick O'Brian's writing ability. Most authors of Men Go To War books don't really seem to know how to write women very well (C.S. Forester I am looking at you. I do not know who Maria is outside of her fawning over Hornblower), but Diana is a fully fledged person from the moment we meet her setting her horse over a gate, despite the fact that we never see any of the events of the twenty books through her eyes. Not only is she a fully realised character, but she is one that shows his understanding of the setting he writes in. Diana Villiers is coping with grief - not only grief for her husband and her father, but for her independence. Her life in India, keeping house for her father from her mid-teens, would have been almost as different as one can imagine from the life of a poor relation take in on charity by a widowed aunt. She feels stifled in the English countryside, forced to play second fiddle to her cousins in order to keep the peace and a roof over her head. I cannot blame her for toying with men's hearts as a source of entertainment. Going into keeping with Canning is Diana's attempt to regain at least some measure of independence, and it is successful, to some extent. She has money, she is back in a country she finds familiar and exciting - but she also has a jealous, suspicious lover who employs their servants as spies to watch her activities, and little company because she is herself a scandal. Stephen's proposal offers her a way out of her situation; it also, to her, seems like a loss of freedom, not only because Stephen loves her, but also because she loves him, and that terrifies her. So she instead runs away with Johnson to America. Johnson, of course, is worse than Canning, and she leaves him temporarily, but then her freedom in England is threatened, again, this time by suspicions of intelligence work (I always wonder just how she got tied up so tightly in Mrs Wogan's subterfuge; did Johnson have something to do with it?), and surprise! Johnson is there to whisk her away from the danger. But he's worse still, and Stephen manages to intervene(yay Stephen) and get her away and back to Europe. This just keeps happening. Diana wants something that is almost entirely impossible for a woman in the period she lives in: liberty. Anything that could interfere with her freedom and independence is avoided at any cost - even her own feelings for Stephen. Especially her feelings for Stephen. She also, to me as someone with BPD/cPTSD now pretty well in remission, reads as a very empathetic and accurate portrayal of someone with BPD/cPTSD. Personally I think Being A Woman In The Late 1700s is enough reason on its own to have it(and we don't know enough of Diana's life before the Peace of Amiens to speculate on other Sources Of Trauma other than the death of her husband and father), but a lot of her hot-and-cold feels so familiar to me. She can be so cruel, and mean it fully in the moment she's saying it, but almost immediately regret her cruelty while still doubling down because she feels she has no other options.

Wow. This got really long. I hope everyone enjoys my Aubreyad Opinions Of The Day

#ask game #thiefbird speaks

[xxrainshadowsxx]

New Elite Chapter 3

The music from the previous dance has just ended as you make your way to the dance floor, and an elegant waltz has begun. That’s good. You could dance a waltz in your sleep, even with your nerves as frayed as they are. It will be one last thing to have to worry about as you try and decipher Mr. Onceler’s motives in asking you to dance.

You’d thought the man was completely disinterested. During your brief introduction before, he’d hardly even bothered to look at you, let alone speak with you. Every other person you’d met that evening at least had the courtesy to acknowledge your presence. But to him, you might as well have been part of the wall… up until the moment he stole the first dance with you.

You settle into hold, one of your hands in his, the other placed delicately on his shoulder. His free hand was light as a feather on the small of your back; you almost didn’t feel it. The music starts properly and your feet methodically go through the steps you know by heart, while you wait with bated breath for him to say anything, anything at all.

For the first minute or so, there’s silence, and it’s nigh unbearable. Finally, he asks a question. “Your family… how long have they been in New York?”

 The question is so bizarre it very nearly throws even your precise footwork off. “Um, four generations,” you murmur. “My family has been in the United States longer than that. We moved over from England before the Revolutionary War, but we originally settled in Philadelphia. It was during the Jefferson administration that we moved to New York.”

“And how far back can you trace your family lineage?” he presses, though you can’t fathom why he’s so obsessed with your family line. He’s looking at you intently now, waiting for your next answer. You almost preferred being ignored by him. This intense scrutiny was almost too much for you to bear. You swallow heavily and clear your throat before you manage to find your voice.

“My family made a name for themselves during the War of the Roses,” you explain, and miraculously, your voice doesn’t quiver. “An ancestor of mine was an ardent supporter of Henry VII, so when Henry won and took the throne, my family was given a place in court. We were favorites until coming to America. Reportedly, my great-great-great grandfather disliked George III, and didn’t enjoy the same privileges we were once afforded. He decided to try American society over British society, then helped efforts during the war.” You were probably revealing too much about your family line at this point, but it was a subject you knew rather a lot about. Your father, when he was still alive, was obsessed with his ancestry, and ensured you knew exactly where you had come from.

“You know quite a lot about history,” he remarks with a smirk. “Pray tell, is this an actual passion of yours, or is it just yourself you’re interested in?”

You narrow your eyes at him. You could be vain about your looks, you admitted that, but you didn’t find your worth through who you were related to. He asked the question, and you gave him an answer. “History is fascinating, sir,” you say, choosing to answer his question instead of lashing out just yet. You would take him down a peg, but you’d do it like a lady. If this was anyone else, you wouldn’t dare do this, but he was infuriating you, and you didn’t need or want his good opinion anyway. “If one doesn’t learn from history, one is doomed to repeat it. It’s necessary for women to know this, for I’ve yet to see a man who understands this lesson.”

Oh, your mother would scalp you if she could hear you. She hates it when you unleash what she calls you “razor tongue,” and society would be scandalized by some of the things that come out of your mouth, but you couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment. This man had lost the opportunity for your good opinion, and if he wanted to insult you, you were more than happy to let him have your razor tongue.

You expect him to get quiet, perhaps offer you a glare, and drop you as soon as possible. You’re not expecting him to throw back his head and laugh, but that’s the reaction he gives. “A socialite with a mouth? I do believe a call to the Vatican is in order to report a miracle,” he chuckles. His mirth just vexes you further, and you’re left as the one glaring at him. Being annoyed that he insulted you isn’t a cause for a miracle, it’s basic logic.

“Tell me, do you enjoy being a tyrant?” you hiss. “I don’t know what I’ve done to earn your ire.”

He raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t. If you’d earned my ire or my scorn, trust me, you would know, and you would know exactly why. I’m not in the habit of playing the mind games society seems to favor.” His mouth twists even as he says these words, as if to leave no room for doubt. Yet his words and his actions hardly match up.

“You say you dislike mind games, yet you delight in playing one with me, sir,” you accuse him. 

Yet again, his reaction confuses you; instead of denying it or even admitting his guilt, he simply looks even more amused. “Please, tell me how I’ve been playing with your mind,” he says, his eyes sparking with the challenge. “Because I assure you, my dear, I’ve been quite upfront with you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You don’t particularly want to whine about how he ignored you; it sounds petulant even in your mind. Instead, you decide your best course of action is to play coy. “You know very well what you did. I shall not give you the satisfaction of spelling it out for you,” you say, lifting your chin just slightly. You would not allow him to think he had damaged your pride.

The hand on the small of your back twitches for a moment, and you think you might have finally succeeded in throwing him off of his game. However, before you can revel in your victory, he pulls you closer to him, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “A socialite with a mouth and wit to boot. I think that is a miracle indeed,” he whispers just before the orchestra plays the final note of the song. His hold on you almost releases, though he still keeps one of your hands in his. “Thank you for honoring me with that dance,” he smirks before bending to kiss the back of your hand again. It couldn’t be more different from the last time he did this–he keeps eye contact with you the whole time and his lips linger. Surprisingly, you find you don’t mind much (which in and of itself is concerning).

You dip into a hasty curtsey as he finally releases your hand, then make your way back over to your table, looking straight ahead but seeing nothing. You can feel his piercing blue eyes staring at you from behind, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to look back at him.

Of course, there’s another formidable force waiting for you back at your table–your mother still sits there, and her expression is ice. There was nothing you could have done differently, you’d only shared one dance with Mr. Onceler, but you hope she won’t find a way to place the blame for his sudden interest on you. You had done your very best to express your disdain for him, though why it only seemed to make him more interested, you couldn’t fathom. But you had sincerely tried.

Before you can take your seat again, your path is intercepted by Thomas Hunte. “I wonder if I could have the honor of the next two dances with you, milady?” he offers with a somewhat charming smile. You don’t particularly want to, seeing as your feet are already beginning to ache, but you have a shrewd suspicion that the rest of the night is going to consist of getting passed between various men for dances with very few chances to rest. So you force a smile on your face and accept, allowing him to lead you back to the dance floor.

It was supposed to be easier this time around. It was supposed to be better this time around. You’d accepted that you had to look for a husband, and as far as your options went, Thomas Hunte was definitely a good choice. He was a good conversationalist, pleasant enough, and there were no glaring flaws that you could detect. He was a bit older, yes, but he wasn’t a decrepit old man. He also fit all of your mother’s qualifications, and seemed interested in you. By all rights, you should be pursuing this with your whole heart.

But for some deranged, unknown reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing into a corner, where Mr. Onceler had joined other men to drink brandy and smoke cigars. You didn’t even like Mr. Onceler. So why did you keep staring?

What was worse, no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t help yourself from comparing Thomas Hunte and Mr. Onceler. The former, though he kept a good conversation going, spoke almost solely about himself, whereas Mr. Onceler said very little about himself and asked about you instead. You knew you shouldn’t blame Thomas for this, it was expected for men to make themselves seem important, but secretly, you thought you liked Mr. Onceler’s way better. You’d felt heard, which was a feeling you’d only ever experienced with Nellie before. Insulted, yes. But still heard. And for a woman, that was a rarity indeed.

There was also the physical aspect. While you knew the most important thing was personality, and that would ultimately be the most important factor if you got a say in your future husband, you were still a young woman and you weren’t immune to liking attractive men. Thomas wasn’t bad looking. Far from it. But you preferred Mr. Onceler’s dark hair to Thomas’ sandy coloring, and the former’s height was also an advantage. And of course, there was also those striking blue eyes that Mr. Onceler possessed, which Thomas’ brown ones could never hope to compete with.

But you must stop these thoughts. Personality was the most crucial thing after all, and Mr. Onceler’s was atrocious. He’d belittled you and refused to give you a reason for his hot and cold behavior. Even with the desperate times your family was in, you deserved better than that.

It was all a moot point anyway. Your mother would never agree to that union even if you were interested. Mr. Onceler was New Money, and that fact was his death knell.

He didn’t ask to dance with anyone else, however, which you found odd. There was no shortage of young women there, who your mother regarded as your competition. He stayed with the other men for the most part. The only other woman he spoke to was occasionally Mrs. Ryan.

You didn’t have too much opportunity to scrutinize his behavior, though. Just as you predicted, now that dancing had started, you hardly had a free moment. You managed to plead exhaustion once or twice, but for the most part, you were on your feet, being passed through so many partners it was impossible to keep track of all their names. You could tell some of them had more preference for you than others, but by the end of the night, you knew you should be focusing your attention on Thomas. You could tell your mother liked him too, which was a boon. It meant an easier time if it came to a courtship.

Finally, Governor Dix called for peace and quiet as he and Mrs. Dix took center stage for speeches. You took a seat next to your mother, almost out of breath from the hours of dancing you’d put yourself through, and you did your best to look as though you were paying attention.

But out of the corner of your eye, you spot Mr. Onceler on the other side of the room again. He’s nursing a drink and not bothering to even pretend to be paying attention. Instead, he’s staring directly at you, his expression unreadable.

You try and train your focus back on the Dix’s, but the intensity of his gaze makes it impossible for you to stop your own eyes from flickering in his direction every few seconds. You're sure he notices since he never stops looking at you, and the smirk that appears on his face all but confirms that.

He was insufferable. Utterly infuriating. You hated that he was occupying so much of your thoughts. You were being stupid, you were painfully aware of that, but try as you might, you couldn't seem to expel him from your mind.

Therefore, it's a relief when the Dix's finish their speeches. That means the ball, as well as your never-racking debutante, has come to an end. You're sure your mother will want to linger a bit to offer people she considers important a farewell, but the time to leave was so close you could almost taste it.

You stand, and sure enough your mother grabs your arm and immediately makes a beeline for the Hunte's, though she's waylaid by Mrs. Ryan. You almost giggle at the stone-cold look on her face, and only just stop yourself in time.

But as your mother's distracted, for the second time that night you feel a hand on your shoulder, and this time you instantly know who it belongs to. You force yourself to remain stoic instead of flying into a panic as instinct is telling you, then turn to face him.

Mr. Onceler stands there, as you knew he would be. He makes a short bow to you, and you incline your head back, being mindful to hold your tongue, but to also appear aloof. Even though your mother was distracted, she was still within earshot, and wouldn't be happy with you being too rude or seemingly interested. You would have to play this carefully.

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance tonight, my lady,” he says, though his eyes are still sparking with mischief as he takes your hand to kiss it for the third time that night.

“And yours, sir,” you say coolly, pulling your hand back as soon as you're able. As you close your hand, however, you feel something in your palm that wasn't there before. Covertly, you glance down and find he's managed to put a slip of paper into your hand.

You almost unfold it, but he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and at the same time, you hear your mother manage a goodbye to Mrs. Ryan. You quickly shove the paper underneath the hem of your glove just before your mother turns back to you.

“‘Bye, ladies! I'm sure I'll be seeing much, much more of you,” Mrs. Ryan calls with a twinkle in her eye before finally taking her leave. Your mother has a near permanent grimace on her face now.

“Oh, I loathe that awful woman,” she despairs. “Hurry now. We must catch the Hunte’s before they leave. If we’re lucky, Thomas Hunte will be calling on you within the next few weeks. You did well to make an impression on him.”

You simply nod, and follow her lead to say your farewells to the Hunte’s and the Dix’s. The whole time, the note Mr. Onceler gave you is burning a hole in your skin, giving you even more of a reason to want to get home. Your curiosity to what it says is simply eating at you.

After the eternity of the evening, the buggy returns, and ten cold minutes later, you’re home, where you nearly collapse into Nellie’s arms. You expect a scolding from your mother for that–it’s not at all proper behavior–but she manages a small smile. “You must be tired. I know I was after my own debutante. But you did well tonight. You managed to capture the interest of the Hunte heir… even with that awful Mr. Onceler trying to steal your time.” She suddenly pulls a face. “I hope you did nothing to encourage him to pursue things further with you?”

“Of course not,” you assure her with a sigh. “I was polite but very cool to him, Mother, I promise. I tried much harder to gain the affection of Mr. Hunte.”

“Good,” she nods in approval. “That would be a highly advantageous match, as I’m sure you know. Well, get you to bed. You need to recover; I expect young Mr. Hunte will be calling on you soon, and we must get you ready for that.”

You have no arguments there. You feel nearly ready to pass out where you stand. However, you allow Nellie to lead you to your room, where you collapse at your vanity. She starts undoing your hair and removing your jewelry, letting you sit in silence for a few minutes before speaking up. “So, I hear you managed to catch the eyes of a few gentlemen tonight,” she smiles warmly. “You must tell me all about it. Who is in your favor?”

You’re about to say Thomas Hunte’s name, but the words stick in your throat. Though you’d spend the night convincing your mother, and indeed, yourself, of your interest in the man, telling Nellie the same suddenly makes you feel sick to your stomach, like you’re lying to her.

“I-I’m not sure,” you say instead. “It was only one night, and I think I need more time to process everything, so I can really comprehend all that happened.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fair,” Nellie acquiesces with a little hum. “Can you give me your arms, please? I’ll take your gloves.” You wearily do, but as Nellie removes the right one from your arm, the slip of paper from Mr. Onceler falls out, surprising the both of you; you’d nearly forgotten about it. Nellie leans down to pick it up, but for once you’re faster than her. You snatch it up from the ground quick as lightning, your sleepiness quite forgotten.

“I think you might’ve had a better night than you let on if you’re already getting secret love notes from gentlemen!” Nellie trills, but you ignore her as you open the note to an elegant script.

I expect I shall see you quite soon. Until then, I hope I can occupy a part of your mind, my lady.

What on earth was that supposed to mean? He would see you soon? He couldn’t possibly be planning on attempting to court you, could he? 

Only one thing was certain. He had absolutely cemented a place for himself in your thoughts. And you couldn’t decide whether or not you were happy about that.

#fanfiction #onceler fanfiction #onceler x reader #the lorax #the onceler #also on ao3 #onceler #period fanfic #edwardian era

[bittersweetresilience]

sunny's favorite fanfiction

By no means a complete list of what I've read and loved, but these are some of the fics I have found the most memorable, captivating, and influential to me. Mostly oneshots. Mostly dark. Mind the Sunny.

clear blood

Prince_Enby (OMORI, 2,674 words)

Hero took a little too long.

I am pretty sure this fic rewired all of my neurons. I wrote a sequel to it. I wrote multiple sequels to it, though only one published. I think about it all the time. I have absorbed it into my body and my writing. The slow build, the foregone conclusion, the denial, the interspersing of memory, even the summary and author's note Altered™ me. This is my all time favorite fic, and from my all time favorite video game.

Each That We Lose Takes Part of Us

aceofbasedesires (The Untamed, 12,652 words)

“Wake up,” he says to his body, alarm making him itch. There’s no response. He says it louder, and then yells it, trying to drift forward. He can’t move. He’s curled over his own body, staring down at it, without being able to do anything. From inside Burial Mounds, Wei Ying’s mind reaches out to those he’s left behind.

Exquisite sadness indeed. I wrote a sequel to this one as well. I love fics that haunt me. I love fics that make me feel like a ghost. I love unhappy endings. I love this part of the show. I love hurt people hurting people. I love inevitability. I love tragedy.

tarnishing

ruthwrites (Mob Psycho 100, 21,147 words)

Reigen realizes that he never gave the man his name. He knew it, anyway— as well as the slogan for Reigen’s whole business. There must be some sort of reason for it. Maybe they’ve met before. As Reigen walks, he becomes more and more certain— he’s seen the man before.

There is nothing I appreciate more than a well done piece of horror. So insidious, so creeping, so everywhere. Lingering. A work of art and a model for manipulative relationships and gaslighting. The final scene with the rope has a full body grip on me.

Cold Water

messageredacted (Homestuck, 6,551 words)

You’re barely finished with your ascension to god tier when they drag you off your quest bed.

Iconic fic forever. I have reread this fic and its remix an unknown number of times over the years. Made for me.

The Decline

EzraBlake (John Dies at the End, 5,284 words)

I'd never heard him make a sound like that. It was almost inhuman coming from John – John, who once drank an entire bottle of tabasco sauce and then got it all over the bathroom because he was laughing hysterically while he vomited. John, who fucked up an alternate dimension by aiming an uncontrollably shitting dog like a rocket launcher. John whimpered.

This fic is so intensely, faultlessly in the spirit of the books, which I adore, that it makes me want to blow up my house with grenades.

power & control

instead (Miraculous Ladybug, 1,404 words)

“Was he always like that?” Félix asks on a ride home from school. She glances to her left: in the passenger seat, he smooths out his uniform, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists. “When you first got married.”

I write the most about Félix and Amélie, and this is the best depiction of them I have ever seen. I call Amélie my queen of England constantly.

This Time I'm Coming Down

telm_393 (The Good Place, 3,585 words)

Jason makes a lot of decisions he might regret.

I had a really hard time deciding between this and Some Things You Can't Touch. True to the characters in a way that makes me want to bite things and scream.

like the sheep

zehecatl (Night in the Woods, 1,564 words)

Sometimes, reality mixes in with memories, and so there's Angus, right across the median.

I am pretty sure it's still sad, but it's a tender sort of sad, like Angus loves him so much it's a sad thing osmosed into my entire personality. Dreams. Gore. Bleeding.

runner ups

The Arowana

chesslyfe5eva (Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, 6,486 words)

"Thank you, father. I've always wanted to look like a third-rate Yakuza lieutenant." "You're welcome. It's a beautiful creature. Kind and self-sacrificing. If anyone in its household were to die, it gives its life and dies in their stead." When Kiyotaka is born, his grandfather gifts the new parents a baby arowana.

Writing about side characters who are almost original characters in relation to a minor detail in the franchise, love of my life. It is so well made.

Terrycloth Mother

rowdymouse (Mother 2: EarthBound, 4,325 words)

Tony's faced with a hard task: providing Jeff all the love he never got and desperately needs.

This actually spoke to my core. It has a very particular feeling shared by The Arowana. Second person perspective never misses.

Until the Walls Break Like Waves

attackfish (Avatar: The Last Airbender, 21,095 words)

It was just before the winter solstice when Earth Kingdom soldiers captured the prince of the Fire Nation and his uncle, the Dragon of the West. It was the dead of winter when they were brought to Ba Sing Se.

I feel like I have to include such a powerful and iconic fic. Good thing this exists.

special mentions

running in the shadow

wackus_bonkus (Miraculous Ladybug, 3,062 words)

Félix doesn’t miss the soul bond between him and Adrien until it’s gone.

How could I not award this masterpiece? I love nonlinear narratives and vignette style fics. Especially when they are written by my friend and for me. This is worth the world and deserves everything.

The Homestuck Epilogues

Andrew Hussie, Cephied_Variable, ctset (Homestuck, 190,398 words)

Ten years after their adventure began, the heroes are enjoying a well-earned retirement on Earth C. But John still has one last choice to make.

Can I count this? I'm counting this. This inspired my love for metafiction and shaped me as a person. Narratives, futility, meaning, characters getting worse. I've never seen a more creative usage of visual elements in fanfiction. I devour experimental media.

#GOD I LOVE UNHAPPY OR AMBIGUOUS ENDINGS #it's overwhelming how many fics i didn't include HJSHHJSHSFKJDSK #my almost 6000 bookmarks on ao3... #looking at this lineup is interesting to me #because i read and enjoy whump the most but it seems #a great number of the fics that actually stick with me and weave their way into my body are the experimental ones the horror ones #the ones that make me do or feel or think something new and interesting #i hope my fics can be that for somebody... #🌃

[floralcrematorium]

Organizing Hetalia Characters Into Arbitrary Categories: Games In My Steam Library

Italy: Placid Plastic Duck Simulator Cute plastic ducks that you can name???? He's sold, even if they don't do anything Germany: Cities Skylines He owns all of the DLC and miraculously doesn't run into traffic issues like every other player does. With how organized this man is you CANNOT convince me that this dream isn't a dream come true for him. He will spend over an hour going through and making sure all of the traffic light nodes are correct and he spends time thinking about optimization. He might be a little overly invested in his city, though Japan: Plants vs. Zombies or Undertale Japan gives me completionist kinda vibes and I think he would like games that have multiple routes you can take. I thought Plants vs. Zombies because you have to play through the main story several times if you want to get all of the achievements and that's on top of the series of mini-games that exist. As for Undertale, I think having the three different game modes would be fun for him, on top of the millions of easter eggs Toby Fox has hidden throughout the game. I could also see him really liking Portal, but I've already given that to someone else America: Outlast I don't know what you want me to say, I think this one speaks for itself. He's also giving me Portal vibes but I don't think he has the patience for some of the puzzles England: Overcooked! 2 Man can't cook in real life. This also translates to video games. I would like to think that he's gotten decently far into the game, but I'm gonna say he's stuck at level 4-3 because so far that level seem impossible in single player France: Unpacking This man is canonically afraid of computers. I don't know what he would play, so he gets Unpacking. I think he would like the sentimentality of the narrative at least Russia: The Sims 3 or Unturned Sims 3 because I see this man spending far too long planning out families and being devastated when they die. He also refused to upgrade to The Sims 4 when it came out and still holds this grudge (and because I have TS4 on origin not steam lol). Unturned for so many reasons. I think he likes a healthy balance between calmer games and combat games; Unturned isn't a combat game per say, but playing in PVE servers in like 2018 was a nightmare. Man has no fear either, so he's much more willing to take on the roblox-reject looking mega zombies than I ever will be China: Stardew Valley There's so much you can do in this game and I think the variety in content and the art style are what appeal to him most. I think he would like caring for the animals most of all, which couldn't be me, so kudos to him. Don't ask me who his choice in bachelor/bachelorette is because I don't know. I'm not even sure if he would care to befriend many of the NPCs save for Shane for the blue chickens Prussia: Star Wars: Battlefront II I don't have a real reason for this other than Prussia's simultaneously a huge dork and also one of the worst people to be in VC with. He thinks the desktop version of this game sucks, though, and misses the PS2 version (me too) Canada: Portal You can't change my mind on this one. GLaDOS is his favorite once she gets turned into a potato. Also he deserves to have a companion cube plush (it's very fun to throw at people, speaking from experience). He has the patience for puzzle games and I think it's more suited for him than America

#hetalia #ヘタリア #hws #hws italy #hws germany #hws japan #hws america #hws england #hws france #hws russia #hws prussi #hws canada #hetalia shitpost #organizing hetalia characters

[a-christmas-carol-from-hr]

a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life

Marley’s wife was dead to begin with.

This must be entirely understood or nothing that follows can be considered miraculous.

Marley’s wife was dead, as dead as a doornail. What was dead about a doornail, I cannot say. Nor could Marley’s wife, on the account of her death. Were she not dead, however, she would not have hesitated to comment on the impracticality of the metaphor. Marley’s wife had been,  after all, a very practical woman. That was how the kind would describe her. The unkind would have called her a cold hearted bitch. It would be unkind, but not untruthful. But for the sake of Marley, we shall use ‘a very practical woman’.

Aye, for the sake of Marley, and the sake of their child, we shall be polite on the nature of his wife. For they did have a child. A girl. She was the account of her mother’s life. Where she began, her mother ended. It had been a tragedy of life, all too common, even in the house of the rich. A life for a life. One soul for another.

A good bargain, in all accounts. Let us never say Marley’s wife was not thrifty.

Marley knew she was dead. How could he not? He had been left with the very real, very small, and very young evidence of her death. And the absence of such a wife could not have gone unnoticed in the household, even by a man such as Marley. They had been married for I can’t say how many years. Marley was her sole executor, her sole administrator, her sole assign, her sole residuary legatee, her sole mourner, and the life bound to her by the Church and Government of England. Not that that mattered all too much to them. Neither attended the Church and the Government had united them as a practical affair.

He was the sole mourner at her funeral. I wish I could say he was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event.

The mention of Marley’s wife’s funeral is only to bring me back to the point I began with. Marley’s wife was dead. She had left behind ledgers and cash boxes, safes and purses, notes and coins, and a widower and a babe. Her presence remained, in the sign above the door to their counting house, in the face of an unfortunate baby girl, and in the pitch black of her husband’s clothes.

Oh, but he was an iceberg, Marley! A frozen, frosted, empty, flinty, rime-crusted, corroded old sinner. His heart was dyed black as an iced road, and twice as unhealthy. He was not as old as people thought him, but grief had aged him more in one year than 38-years had in sum. It paled his skin, chilled his hands, froze his voice, and frosted any mercy that might be found in his eyes.

Nobody stopped to speak to him. Nobody stopped to ask after him. Nobody looked in on him. Nobody gave condolences. Nobody gave a thought to him, except to avoid him. But what did Marley care?

The only living being he gave any form of care to was his daughter. The two would be seen walking at all hours; she asleep in his arms and he focused on the ground. She was his perennial companion. The girl slept in an orange crate by his desk while he worked, sleeping through the plethora of evictions and debt collections her father sent out day by day. He only stopped to take care of her, and only then did he show any spark of warmth or care. But woe to those who tried to use that to their advantage.

Once upon a time- on the darkest of days, on Christmas Eve, on his daughter’s first birthday- the girl lay sleeping in her bed and the father sat busy in the counting house. She knew nothing of the date. It was all “nuts” to her, who cared more about a warm blanket and her afternoon meal. But Marley knew.

How could he not.

AN: an au of an au, set in the victorian/canon setting, where ellen was the ghost and marley was the hauntee (because an ellen scrooge married to jacob marley was ellen marley).

#a christmas carol #jacob marley #scrooge x marley #acc #the christmas carol retelling thing

[sailor-vivi]

Translation : MLB Reunion - Joan's love story in the past

(Context : At the beginning of the episode, Marinette uses her kwagatama to summon Joan, a previous holder of the Ladybug miraculous, and to ask her if the holders of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses already fell in love with each other. The scene below happened at the end of the episode, starting from when they show the illustrations of the past)

if you’d like more translations for this episode, I’d be happy to do so !

Joan : At my time, the kingdom of England was protected by a holder of the Black Cat Miraculous. His name was Dark Grimalkin. The Duke of Bedford, who was regent at that time, ordered him to help the English army to defeat France. This is when I was given the Ladybug Miraculous to restore the balance. I became "La Parque Ecarlate". Dark Grimalkin and I fought so many times, before we learned that we were both manipulated by our respectives monarchs. Both greedy for power, they didn't care about their people's fate. We fell in love, my sweet kitty and I, and we refused to fight again. We only wished to love each other. It didn't please the kinglets, we thought we were discreet, but then we were taken. Everything was going to go up in smoke, well especially me. But, though a final trick, I escaped them.

We renounced our miraculouses, and nobody saw us again.

Marinette : And did you live a love story ?

Joan : I hope so, from the bottom of my heart.

Tikki : This is not the real Joan, Marinette, it's only her memory as a holder. She doesn't remember anything after renouncing her miraculous.

Joan : End of reunion ?

Marinette : End of reunion.

Alya : Everything ok, Marinette ?

Marinette : Yes, apparently a love story with the holder of the Black Cat Miraculous is possible, but does it mean that I have to renounce my miraculous ?

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #reunion #ml translations #ml season 5 spoilers #ml

[sizzleissues]

First contact (Origins)

(Twenty years after the miraculous were retired, a new bad guy is back in town. Some one has to stop him)

(2876 words)

The car ride was a little tenser than Emma would have liked on her birthday. A girl only turned sixteen once, she deserved her familys’ full attention and for her mom not to be whisper-shouting at her dad about accepting a call.

“It’s been sixteen years since we talked properly and twenty one years since I’ve seen her! She can’t just show up again.”

“They're all back in Paris. They want to make up for lost time.” Her dad tried to soothe. Her mom, Marinette, the scariest spoon of sugar in Paris, shook her head furiously.

“She didn’t even try to talk to me after the accident.”

“Mari, please. Just give her a shot.”

Marinette’s hand flexed over the accept call button on the car's dashboard for a moment before she pressed yes, making her voice light and cheery as the caller gasped on the other end.

“Hey! You answered. I mean of course you answered, how are you?” She was speaking french, fluently and with a fast joy but there was new hesitancy from years of dormancy. Emma couldn’t believe she was hearing the voice that had only ever existed on a voicemail she was not to tell mom about. 

“Hi, Alya. I’m doing well. You’ve landed, how is it?”

“Oh yeah, yeah. Nothing’s changed. We’re just waiting for a taxi.”

“We have space. We could swing by on our way to the roller rink.” Her dad said, earning a glare from her mom. Adrien ignored it and continued. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Really?” Alya asked.

“Yeah, really?” Marinette said.

“Yup. Look I see you know.” Emma saw his smile in the rear view mirror, that mischievous glint to his eyes as he definitely planned their route to pass by. When it came to her mom’s old friends, he was always scheming to get them to talk. Outside, a little apart from the other families waiting at the taxi bay, Alya, Nino and their kid stood waiting. 

It was a little annoying that her birthday had been hijacked by the dramatic return of the Lahiffe family. At least she might learn why it was so dramatic. All she knew was they left at nineteen, going back to Alya’s family and things were great for five years until her mom suffered an accident and lost parts of her memory. Then she refused to explain why this meant they could no longer talk. Or even what the accident was. 

The car pulled in and her dad got out to greet them. He motioned to Emma to move into the back of the family car and make room for the Lahiffes. Marinette took a minute to sort out the scowl on her face, smoothing down her shirt as the families’ luggage was loaded into the back. The door beside Emma opened and the Lahiffes’s very pretty daughter stared at her. Her appearance was expectedly messy from an eight hour flight, hair escaping her top knot and her baby curls no longer so neatly gelled down. She wore chunky black glasses and a mathlete team sweater that was a size or two too big. Her fingers slipped out the long sleeves to give her a little wave and smile that had her heart stuttering. 

“Hi.” She choked out. “I’m Emma.”

“Florence, or Flo. And I can speak French.” Her accent was adorable, French sounding as natural as English on her tongue. Emma smiled instead of answering, not trusting her voice wouldn’t break again. Her flustered blunder had been mistakenly read as hesitant English, which she spoke fluently with her cousins in England nearly every second day. 

“I’ll just move into the back.” Emma unstrapped herself and twisted around to pull the seat down. The three seats at the back were a little trickier to access and she tried to move as effortlessly as possible, already conscious of Flo’s eyes on her back. She slid in and Flo climbed in after, pulling the seat in front of them back up so her parents could get in next. 

The door shut and the immediate silence was awkward. For the four people in front, it was the first time being in the same country, let alone the same room, in twenty years. 

Emma tapped on her thighs, waiting for someone to break the quiet. When no one did she took it upon herself. 

“So this is mighty awkward.”

“Emma!” Her mom chided.

“You are not allowed to be awkward on my birthday.” Emma continued. 

“It's your birthday?” Alya asked, turning around to face her. “I’m so sorry, are we interrupting?”

“Well, yeah. But I don’t mind.”

“How old are you?” Flo asked. Emma paused for a moment to congratulate herself on successfully starting a conversation between the adults about boring adult stuff.

“Just turned 16. So older than you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I-.” Right, knowing that seems stalkerish. Which she wasn’t! “I follow your instagram. You celebrated your fifteenth like six months ago. Which I only remember because you went to a Kitty Section show and I always wanted to go-. I’m going to shut up now.”

Flo giggled, her cheeks shaped like apples, dimpled at either side of a wide smile. Emma wanted to burn the image of her smile in her brain. 

“No, it's fine. I also follow your insta, you’re like an award winning roller derby player?”

Emma blushed, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, god. Please don’t tell me you saw the pictures.”

“What's wrong with them?”

“My face is smashed in for one.”

“But you’re so proud of yourself in them. And the reels of you skating!- They’re mesmerizing.” Emma could believe she was watching them right then by how her eyes glowed.

“Oh god stop. You’re being too nice. You’re the impressive one. A genius and an athlete. Haven’t you literally run like five marathons?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a genius. If it isn’t math I’m completely lost.” She laughed, her turn to go shy and hide her face. “I haven’t run in a while either. Moving has made it difficult, ya know.”

Emma didn’t really know. She’d lived in Paris her entire life and was slightly jealous of those who lived elsewhere. Paris was haunted nowadays even if the adults all seemed determined to show just how much the city had progressed. The summer she’d spent in London had been so strange because that shadow of the miraculous was absent. She wondered if Flo felt it, she knew Alya and Nino did now they were back. Her dad dealt with it by engaging in nostalgia. Weirdly, her mom was the only adult she knew who didn’t bear the weight of the miraculous.

“I’m sure you’ll get back into it.”

-

They dropped off the Lahiffes and made it to the roller rink just ten minutes after her party was supposed to start. A new record, all things considered. 

She couldn’t say she had a lot of friends to come to her party, cursing herself for not asking Flo to join when she had the chance. The Couffaine cousins, Clover and Léon, were friends since childhood and she’d been pretty much unsuccessful at making friends in school apart from Jules who came as a package deal on her first day. They’d walked up to her on their first day, said ‘hi’ and then refused to leave her side since.

She’d chosen a rink with an 80s theme, the lights refusing to be anything other than neon and the decor a navy that let the brightly coloured skates and disco rink be like a beacon at the centre. Jules had suggested going all out in retro wear, and they were immediately visible in their neon green leotard and black leggings, fuzzy pink sweatbands around their wrists and ankles. They’d fluffed up their short hair to impossible heights, making them look like a maniac dance instructor who’d escaped the 80s with a vengeance. 

They ran up to her, arms flailing at their sides until they met in the middle and hugged her with a consistently surprising level of strength.

“Dude, new record.” Jules said, breaking the hug to fist bump her. “Clo, owes me a euro.”

“I told you to stop betting on me.”

“You make it easy. You are too predictable.” They took her hand and led her away from her parents. “Loving the outfit. Clover refused to wear something cool as usual.”

Emma smirked, seeing the cousins hanging by the rink. Clover wore her usual black hoodie and shorts combo and Léon shone in a teal flared jumpsuit. Emma wore a loose fitting white t-shirt and a matching pink sports bra and leggings. Her hair was done up in an asymmetric pony tail and frizzed to a ridiculous volume.

“So you are all insane then.” Clover said as they joined them. 

“You’re just boring Clo.” Jules teased. Clover rolled her eyes, walking away from them. “Where are you going?”

“To get roller skates? Your clinginess is frankly ridiculous.” Clover kept walking as Jules caught up to her. 

“So.” Léon started, the quietest of the friend group. “Bets that they’re together by summer’s end.”

Emma slapped him away, watching as her two friends walked side by side, arms just brushing. “Stop it with the betting. And they won’t get together until the last day of collegé because they both are too stubborn,” she added.

“That’ll be hellish for us, won’t it?”

“Yup.”

Clover returned without Jules, shrugging when they asked where they were. “They got a phone call.”

Léon accepted that but Emma sensed something a little more in it. Clover looked a little nervous about it but it could also be the fact they were going skating. They got their skates on (Emma’s were her own while the others rented) and got out onto the rink just in time for disco hour. The music pumped through speakers at all ends of the room and the rink was flooded with people trying their best to dance while skating. She caught a glimpse of her parents struggling hand in hand to skate down the full length. Others organised a conga line which quickly collapsed when a stray kid rammed into it.

She kept beside Clover, waiting for Jules to come back before she left her alone. Léon was already out in the centre, thrusting and twirling for all to see.

“I’m worried about Jules. They aren’t back yet.”

“They said not to wait on them. Go skate, I’ll be fine.”

Emma let go of her and Clover wobbled in a definitely not fine way but forced a smile, shooing her away. It was difficult getting into it at first, her thoughts still on Jules but soon she was weaving through the crowd toward Léon. They linked up and danced along, showing off the moves they’d been practising all summer.

She’d nearly forgotten completely about Jules when the music came to a deafening stop and the crowd collectively turned their heads in the same direction, whispering confusion spreading quickly. Emma looked to Léon who shrugged and helped her push through the crowd toward where they looked. Someone clapped at the end of a dark corridor at the back of the rink where the bathrooms were. From the corner of her eye she saw her dad freeze up, more terrified than anyone around him.

From the darkness, an eight foot tall figure emerged. Their head was a disco ball, glittering sinisterly as it stepped into the neon light. They spoke with no mouth, pointing a disco ball topped sceptre at the crowd.

“Why have you stopped dancing?! This is a party, is it not?”

“Akuma!” Someone screamed in the crowd and the person turned their eyeless face toward the voice.

“Who was that?”

People scattered, knocking into Emma and Léon as they tried to get as far away from the akuma and the person who was scared enough to scream. At the other side, her dad dragged her mom away, whispering something desperately into her ear. The person who’d screamed, wailed now, blubbering about a family, a woman around forty who probably lived through the days of Hawkmoth.  

“Don’t cry! I only want everyone to have fun.” The akuma said, stepping over the barrier and approaching until it loomed over the woman. 

Emma had seen the news coverage of akuma attacks, she’s heard all about the old heroes and read comics retelling their adventures. But never, never, had she imagined the paralysing fear in her bones as they watched this woman scream and beg and the akuma reach down with a spindly limb to touch her forehead. As a kid she always thought she’d do something if akumas ever returned. Seeing it for real, she felt ready to melt to the floor, her knees turning to mush under her. 

Léon fared no better, pale as paper with tears streaming down his face. The whole lot of them were cowards.

From nowhere, a roller skate hit the akuma squarely on the forehead. It bounced off and fell down with a thump. The akuma lifted its hand from the woman to stare in the direction it came from.

Another hit its shoulder.

“Everyone! Evacuate!” A thunderous voice cried from behind a crowd. Just like that, people were moving, shoving and pushing to get away. The akuma had all but forgotten about the woman and instead searched for the person assaulting it with roller skates.

Léon tugged at her hand but Emma stayed rooted, almost as curious as the akuma to who was the brave soul standing up to it. 

Another shoe hit its hip and it screeched.

Emma saw him before the akuma did. Her dad, Adrien Dupain-Cheng, one last roller skate clutched in his outstretched hand and the fiercest expression she’d ever seen on his face. He launched it at the akuma and then bolted away.

Emma skated after him. The akuma wielded its sceptre and sent a blast of light in his direction. She changed course, getting the akuma’s attention on her.

“You suck!” She shouted. The akuma screamed, turning its sceptre toward her. Years of roller skating made her nimble, dodging each blast and drawing it away from her dad.

She reached the barrier, hopping over it and sinking down. Her dad happened to run by, more skates in his arms. He paled at the sight of her.

“You need to evacuate.” He took her hand and dragged her away from the rink, down the same corridor the akuma had emerged from.

“It was about to hit you with its beam. I had to save you.”

“I don’t matter. You need to be safe.” They stopped at the women’s bathrooms and he pushed her inside. Emma tried to protest but the look on his face shocked her to silence. He looked furious for the first time in her life.

“How are you going to stop it?”

He paused for a nearly imperceptible moment. “I- That doesn’t matter. I’ll keep it at bay until the authorities arrive.”

“They don’t know what to do-.” She was cut off as he closed the door on her. She banged her hand against it, screaming at him to come back. The door wouldn’t budge, barricaded by something.

She whipped around, kicking a stall door with a frustrated cry. Had he not seen her out there? They could have done it together, like how they used to pretend when she was younger. 

Something black caught in the corner of her eye, a little box placed by the sink. She picked it up, noting the red sigil on the front and the worn nature of the box. With nothing better to do now, she opened it, jumping back and slipping on her skates when a ball of dark energy escaped it.

She hit the ground, thudding against the stall door. The ball of darkness looked down at her with green eyes.

“WHAT ARE YOU!”

“Rude.” It said, “I’m a kwami. I thought you were like a big fan of mine.”

Emma’s mouth jaw dropped open. “A kwami? As in the thing that grants miraculous holders their powers!”

“Uh, yeah. And that ring that’s now lying on the ground, is my miraculous. Or yours now.”

“Mine? Wait, for real?”

The kwami stared at her for a moment. He looked a little disappointed. Emma ignored him, picking up the black box again from where it had fallen. She winced as she moved, the pain from falling finally hitting her. A black ring with a green paw print sat in the red cushion. 

“This.” She began. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Something she’d only imagined in her wildest dreams “This is the cat miraculous. Why me?”

“Nepotism.” The kwami answered plainly. Then he froze. “I mean, destiny. I always get those words confused.”

“So that’s really an akuma out there?”

“Yup. And you’d better go deal with it before Tikki’s holder gets the head start. All you gotta say is Plagg, claws out.”

Emma slid the ring on, gasping as it changed to be a silver spiral around her finger. She felt it in her soul, a space being filled she didn’t know was empty. The power of destruction cool on her skin.

“Plagg, claws out.”

-

I might write the part 2, you guys gotta like it though first. This is a part of my futures AU, which I’ll go tag properly now so you can find the other stuff related to it. Any fic I’ll post for this will be mostly out of order, just random key events or explorations of character’s as I see them now. Emma, Adrien centric but the love square is still there.

#miraculous #futures au #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #emma agreste #new holders

[skzvivie]

🦋 -- vivie kprofile

stage name: vivie

birth name: choi vivienne

korean name: choi mi-young

nationality: britidh

position: lead dancer, lead vocalist, song-writer, rapper

birthday: december 11, 2000

height: 5’4” / 165cm

weight: 52kg

blood type: o

mbti type: estp

nationality: british

representative emoji: 🐰 / ⭐

unit: dance-racha

solo fandom name: viestar

spotify: cinnamonroll vivie's fav tunes

VIVIE FACTS:

she was born in london, england.

she was raised in northampton, england until she was 10, and moved to sydney, australia with her family but then she moved back to england after completing secondary school.

her nicknames (according to her members) are chatterbox and the moodmaker.

she can speak english, french, yoruba and nearly korean fluently.

vivie has a grey and white ragdoll cat named cherry after berry, bang chan's dog.

vivie is a very strong christian and reguarly goes to church.

she can play the piano, violin and guitar.

she joined jyp entertainment in 2019, when she was 18 years old.

vivie trained for 1 year and 4 months

she learned skateboarding when she was living in sydney.

her hobbies are gaming, listening to music and dancing.

if vivie wasn't a kpop idol, she would be a pediatrician or an actress.

her favorite season is winter.

her role models are her parents, chan and Jesus.

her role at the dorm is the moodmaker.

she loves watching total drama, saiki k (although she isn't into anime) miraculous ladybug, teen titans go and victorious - she watches mostly children shows

vivie thinks her charming point is her heart shaped beauty mark below her right eye.

very close to all jyp artists and staff members.

she is best friends with itzy’s chaeryoung.

vivie is called the nation's raquelle coming from her funny and clumsy personality

vivie is a mint chocolate chip enthusiast

her motto: "love always"

vivie's ideal type: "someone who i can bully and be silly with but still cares for me."

show more vivie fun facts…

⁠☆ -- send an ask to be added onto the taglist

© skzvivie all rights reserved. do not copy or repost

#🦋 -- vivie kprofile #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member #stray kids #skz #stray kids oc #skz oc #kpop oc #stray kids extra member #stray kids ninth member #skz ninth member #stray kids addition #skz addition #9th member of stray kids #9th member of skz #stray kids female member #skz female member #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop extra member #kpop female oc #stray kids female addition #skz female addition #skz extra member #Christian kpop stans>>> #God loves you 🫶

[artzychic27]

Miraculous meets the SVU

Season 20 cast, Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, Amanda Rollins, Sonny Carisi, and Peter Stone

A series of cyber bullying is going on in New York toward teenagers, mainly girls, and causes quite a few to commit suicide when their secrets are revealed to the public, making them special victims. After a round of questioning the bullies of the victims, they hit a dead end.

But then, the IP address of the online harasser is traced all the way to Paris. The team take a flight to investigate and find themselves at Francoise DuPont

They’re not too fond of the principal, especially when they see the way he handles a dispute between a regular student and one who’s apparently a sports captain. (You can tell whose side he takes) Fin and Amanda question Damocles until it looks like he’s about to pass out and gives them permission to access the computer being used to send the messages

On their way to the computer lab, they run into Zoé, whom they recognize after they questioned her about the assault of one of her classmates. Olivia asks Zoé if there’s been any bullying going on at school, and Zoé leaves 0 out

Zoé: Oh! Where to begin? First there’s this jackass, Louis. He constantly calls my friend’s artwork trash whenever he can and acts like he’s Leonardo DaVince, my half-sister acting like the queen of England just because her dad’s the mayor, and of course, Lila Rossi. I haven’t been here long enough, but let me tell you, based on what my friends told me, she is a nightmare. Oh, and I can’t forget Madame Bustier. She lets the rich and privileged students do as they please, be bullies, and forces their victims to apologize. Kind of like Damocles, but he’s more of a coward and doesn’t try to hide his bias with kind words and shit.

Olivia/Fin/Amanda/Sonny/Peter: …

Fin: … Who or what the hell is Shadow Moth?

Zoé would have gone more into detail, but she had to get to class, so now, the SVU has more suspects to question. When they check the computer, it seems whoever was doing the cyber bullying knew how to cover their tracks, because they can’t find anything on it. That, or Damocles was fucking with them and trying to protect a rich kid

Before they could figure out what more to do, Olivia got a call that another New York teenager committed suicide. And it wasn’t any ordinary teenager, this was the governor’s nephew, making this case top priority

After “gently coaxing” Damocles into letting them question some students, they seem to be getting somewhere

They start with Zoé and her classmates

Zoé: Cyber bullying isn’t up Chloé’s alley. She prefers to humiliate her targets in person. Plus, I think she’s smart enough to know her dad can’t get her out of international crimes.

Marc: Louis only likes to mess with my boyfriend. Plus, I don’t think he’s smart enough to be able to pull international cyber bullying off… Unless he hired someone, but he doesn’t have Chloé money.

Cosette: … Nah, it’s not Louis. Maybe Chloé?… Or Lila. I’d check Lila. Her mom’s a diplomat, probably. And if I’m being honest, she’s kind of arrogant… So, might wanna check that out.

Ismael: Oh, it was Lila. Word of advice, do not trust a thing she says. You know, this one girl got expelled because of her and then reinstated because of a “tragic misunderstanding.”

Reshma: I’m thinking Lila for this one. I don’t like to throw out titles, but… I think she may be a psychopath. She fits the description quite well.

Aurore: Check out Lila. If it wasn’t her, then Chloé. Lila’s more meticulous, but Chloé likes to get things done quick with her money.

Jean: Check out Lila Rossi. Oh, and while you’re at it, Gabriel Agreste.

Amanda: The designer?

Jean: Yeah, he’s her and Adrien’s boss. They model together, but whenever I see Adrien after his shoots with her, he’s wearing a TON of makeup on his face and arms… You guys are the cops who handle abuse, right?

So now, Amanda’s looking into Adrien’s welfare while Olivia and Fin handle the case. Back in New York, TARU is able to get past the firewall (Or something) and trace the messages to one of the phones in the school. They barge into the cafeteria, and are lead to Lila Rossi. And they arrest her while her friends followers advocate for her release

They show all the evidence to Mme. Rossi when she storms into the interrogation room, but she’s not buying a second of it and demands for Lila’s release. And as Lila is a minor, they have no choice

After a very frustrating conversation with Gabriel, Amanda runs into Vincent. He shows her some incriminating photos of Lila doing everything but having sex with Adrien during shoots and explains that he showed Gabriel what was going on, but he never did anything to stop it. Amanda relays this to Olivia and Fin, giving them enough reason to haul Lila and Gabriel to the interrogation room and get a warrant to search Lila’s room for “Proof that she’s stalking Adrien.”

The Paris police force look through Lila’s room for anymore evidence of her crime… Then they find a book under her bed. It’s a very disturbing scrapbook filled with news clippings of a few preteens and teenagers who had committed suicide, been arrested, or severely injured. There are also photos of the New York teenagers on some kind of hit list page with little notes detailing how one would make their lives a living hell. Each one who died has a red ex over their face. And just after that page are photos of teenagers from other states and even countries

Olivia: … Haul her ass to court.

The court date arrives, and as one would guess, Lila’s sobbing her eyes out and trying to play the victim. She somehow manages to drag this on until the judge gets fed up and orders for the trial to continue tomorrow

During that time, the SVU interrogates Gabriel, and is just so. Damn. Infuriating. He makes bullshit claims about not knowing, says Adrien is overreacting, and they’ve had just about enough of this guy

TARU pulls up a few things on Gabriel’s phone to prove he was aware of Adrien’s treatment, along with texts to and from Lila where she tells her about the “bad influences” in Adrien’s life which are most of his classmates. There’s also a few messages between him and Nathalie about this Shadow Moth guy again

After looking him up, they realize that Shadow Moth is an emotional terrorist who has been plaguing Paris for nearly a year now, only to be stopped by Ladybug and Chat Noir

Now they have a warrant to search his property and eventually find Shadow Moth’s lair, and Roger has them search the perimeter for Shadow Moth’s Miraculous

Sonny: You know. If I were a supervillain, I wouldn’t leave anything important to me where someone would get to it easily.

They head back to the interrogation room, frisk Gabriel until they find the Miraculous, and rip them off before he could transform.

To make things short and sweet because I’m running out of ideas, Mme. Bustier ruins her reputation in only five seconds by going up to the stand as a character witness for Lila and claiming Adrien should forgive Lila and Gabriel to be a good example for victims of abuse. (It takes all of Olivia willpower to not shoot that bitch) Gabriel, Nathalie, and Lila are found guilty of conspiracy, terrorism, sexual assault, suicide baiting, child abuse, child neglect, aiding in terrorism, emotional abuse, cybercrimes, and defamation.

Just as she’s about to be handcuffed, Lila grabs the glass of water on her table, shatters it to make the end sharp and charges at Olivia, only for her to pull out her gun and shoot Lila’s ankle

At the end, Ladybug and Chat Noir arrive to retrieve the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous, Adrien’s aunt takes custody of him, and Fin calls the school board to have them take in Mme. Bustier along with Damocles for questioning

(Notes? Comments?)

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #law and order svu #olivia benson #odafin tutuola #amanda rollins #dominick carisi #peter stone #Lila Rossi gets exposed #fanfic idea