#Yes the character sheet is cat themed and my friend made it

[rooolt]

Utterly abysmal stats I rolled for a level 5 character today (plus all bonuses and ASIs)

#Yes the character sheet is cat themed and my friend made it #Yes we’re playing a warrior cats campaign yes I’ve never read the books #The stats work tho bc I’m playing an awful crazy old man #Who shouldn’t have the powers he does

[ohmysparkle]

Spellbound intro III

🌙 Pairing: Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Reader

🌙 Genre: Dark Fantasy AU, Mystery, smut.

🌙 Teaser Length: 3K

🌙 Warnings: Blood, bodily injury, cannibalism in this chapter. For the series overall, smut, gore, witchcraft, religious themes.

🌙✨Tag List: @xviternity @straykisz @97lovestay (unable to tag)

✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ *✧･ﾟ. ✨ . *: ･ﾟ 🌙 * ･ﾟ✧ * : ･ﾟ✧. ✨･ﾟ.*.✧

It’s smouldering hot, and the once neatly dressed man that stands on the corner of the street has now soiled his white clothes with sweat. The beads shimmer on his dark skin, and he rubs at his brows, to remove the tension as well as to wipe the perspiration before it falls to his eyes.

He’s had enough. If the man he waits for doesn't come to him, then he shall go to look.

The first person to ask is only a few steps away. He stomps past his own - empty - storefront and enters the following shop, the butcher’s shop precisely.

“Eustace!” The sweaty man calls, awaiting for a dimwit in his 20’s with a curly head of hair to appear. The front stall is empty, but somewhere in the back he hears a clang before his call is answered.

“Ji - Jiggly? What can I help you with today?” Eustace replies in confusion.

“Your brother is late.” Says the man, rather matter-of-factly.

“Hmm.” Eustace thinks, for longer than necessary, “He should have been by yours a while ago.”

“Yes - I know that, which is why I’ve come here to tell you he’s late. It’s almost ten o'clock and I’ve yet to finish the filling for the meat pies - they wont be done in time for lunch unless Emerson shows up now.”

“Well…” Eustace thinks. The impatient man pauses at the worrying thought that he, the older of the two brothers, is somehow to inherit the family business. It’s not a match for his mind.

“Eustace - could you call your father to figure out how much longer the delivery will take?”

“Oh, dad’s not at the other shop. Emerson was only going in today to pick up the day’s delivery orders.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“I really have no idea.”

“Ah - goodness Eustace, does that not bother you in the least?”

The man storms out from the butcher's place, mumbling and grunting to himself, making his way to the corner once more to see if Emerson has made an appearance. He looks over the bend, down a block to where the road runs along the shore of the lake - nothing.

It’s getting late, and he’s sure his clientele would not appreciate the absence of his meat pies.

The lake, glistening in that cool morning sun…

Just how desperate was he to find Emerson?

“Why do they talk to you like that?” Jiggly asks you, clothed in your usual black, but in thinner fabrics to allow for the breeze to cool you on that one summer day.

“Like what?” You ask him.

“Well - they actually talk for starters. And they’re kinda nice, don’t look like they’ll bite you.” He says, watching in awe as you gently take the hand of each of the ladies in the water as a greeting.

“Jiggly… look. Mermaids, sirens, think of them as regular leg people. Do you walk up to a person on the street and gawk? No. Do you slowly socialize until they are acquainted with you? Yes. Just come down and make small talk from time to time and they’ll get along with you just fine.”

“But don’t they eat people?!”

“Well… they could, but I brought them apples so I guess they’re not really hungry now.”

“Apples? That’s all it took?” He looks at the three wet ladies, sitting upon the small embankment that piled onto the paved sidewalk. “Just apples?”

“Well… fruit in general they tend to like. I always start with apples, nobody has dietary issues with apples. Sometimes I make them some food too.” One of the ladies, with long hair that winds and circles around her body covering her figure along with some small white garments, strokes your calf as if she were petting a cat. It all seemed so bizarre, the water women were always so angry, hissing and growling, baring sharp teeth and nails.

“They’re fond of physical contact once they trust you.” You explain, taking a bite of one of your spare apples. Another lady, a younger, girlish one, pokes at your thigh as you are about to eat more. You roll your eyes and relinquish the apple to her.

“I’m not taking chances.”

“You underestimate how helpful they are. They can go from one side of the lake in a minute, they share everything they hear with one another, they travel the oceans. If you’re on their good side, they might just let you submit some mermail to them.

“Mermail?” Jiggly is in awe, it’s like the two of you were in two different realities with you always saying things that stunned him so.

“Yeah, mer-mail… mermail? Get it? Like, put a message in a bottle and they’ll ship it to wherever you need so long as it's close to a body of water?” You elaborate.

“Yeah, yeah - I know what it is. I just didn’t think it was… real.”

“Ha!” You snort. You turn around to the water ladies, saying something in an older language he does not recognize - they seem to understand it though, and laugh along with you.

“Jiggly… mermail is real.” You deadpan. “It’s not like… a myth or anything.”

“Mail?”

“Yes… well, packages, letters, messages… ”

“What do you pay them with? I thought the mermaids didn’t use money.”

“Eh, they sometimes do. But all it’ll cost you is kindness, or maybe a little favor. They’ll do plenty of little favors if you just give them a little kindness in return. Real nice sense of community they’ve got…”

Kindness…

He had that. What he lacked for this specific task was confidence.

But there they are, just a couple of them. Young girls, in their early teens, wearing some dry cloth sheets over their bodies to break the ever chilling wind, just enjoying the morning sun as they etched pebbles with tools, most likely to make some jewelry, as they sat on the edge of the footpath with their feet hanging over the surface of the lake.

“Ehem… hello?” The man cautiously says, his voice nearly cracking due to the uncertainty. He is at a loss of words, just momentarily, when they return a gaze with their bulbous, unnaturally blue eyes. The irises nearly gone, it was like staring into water itself.

“Hello?” He says, closer this time.

“Hssss.” one of them hisses at him, like a cat, baring her small sharp teeth.

The other one pats her shoulder to silence her, and raises her hand to beckon the man over.

He approaches fearfully.

“Hi.” The calmer girl says, staying put. Her voice is quiet and hoarse, almost whisper-like, just like all the other women who lived in the waters. You had once explained it to him, it’s because they were sometimes unused to speaking above water, and they often had accents of old languages, now that newer ones weren’t quite common below.

“I’m Jiggy - the baker.” He says trying to be as personable as possible. “You might remember my friend… Dr. Nemo.”

The girl nods politely. Good.

“She told me you might be able to do me a little favor. If you want I can make you anything for lunch in return.” He was trying to smile, in a friendly neighborly way, not in a creepy man in his thirties way.

“Lunch?” The polite fish girl asks.

“Yes!” He sings, almost like some character from a children's program.

“Fish?”

“No, I don’t carry fish.” Did he ruin it? Did they only eat fish?

“Pork? Bacon.” She says again.

“Yeesss…” He does his best friendly-dinosaur impression.

“Yes. Bacon.” She looks at the girl that had hissed, and she nods in return after a brief moment of silent conversation. “What… do you need?”

“Well… you might know the man that drives the meat truck.”

“Stupid man?” The polite girl says in her funny voice.

“Yeeesss… the stupid man.” Clever girl. “Could you ask around and find out where he is? He’s late and I need him to bring me my cuts of meat.”

“Where? Where do we look?” It was a good question… Emerson only delivers between two neighborhoods.

“Eastbend by the Shore!” He points to the area further up along this same side of the lake. Over there the houses are smaller, climbing up the sloping hills. It's cooler from all the trees, and that is where the slaughterhouse of Edwin & Sons lies - and where Emerson should be stalling.

“Right over there!” Jiggly points, nearly seeing the white roof of the taller building among the quaint brick houses. “Right over - AHH!” Something in his hand pinches every bit of his attention.

Chomp!

He looks down to the pinching and blunt pain on his hand - it was the hissing girl biting him! Latched on to one of his fat fingers with her sharp teeth - the audacity!

He tries to pull his hand away, and it's like he can hear it, a rip. The girl's pale, veiny face is suddenly painted by a splatter of blood that she’s made the flesh release, gushing from his index finger, an arc of red liquid painting a line from her mouth to her forehead. Her furious blue eyes, still trained on his hand, almost satisfied at the outpour.

“Aaaaaaaaahh!” He shrieks, a long piercing howl.

The polite girl begins to scold the other, Jiggly can hardly comprehend, but when she smacks her companion across the head it does not make the hold of her jaw relent. It only makes his skin drag further from his bone.

If he moves back she’ll rip it off, if he pulls closer she might latch her bite further up. He is paralized, his entire body feels pins and needles from the panic, but it begins and ends with his one, bitten finger.

Smack! The polite girl smacks the other right across the forehead, one last time and now the girl lets her jaw slack. The man holds his hand up, shrieks once more as he sees his bone beneath the torn and bleeding skin. Even against his dark fingers, the blood is so red and so bright, so so bright. No translucency at all, just a solid red, redder than anything he had seen before. But there, a peek of something pale within the digit - and he could feel it; the bone.

The girls bicker and argue.

“Fucking fishy!” He cries at her.

“Lunch!” The bloodied girl cries. She goes back to smacking her lips, picking at her teeth with her tongue as if there were flesh stuck between her teeth. There probably was.

“It - it’s the baker! Come help!” a man yells behind him, having been attracted by the screams. There is a clamor of feet approaching the scene.

Jiggly turns, men approach him from behind, the girls swat and slap at each other in front of him, his finger bleeds.

“Jiggly! What happened?” He recognizes the voice. It's the captain of the cadets from this side of the lake, a handsome man that seems to eat too many of his croissants for the size of his waist, one of his very best customers. But alas, here he is, running as he does daily, with all of the young recruits in training panting behind him as he stands there with barely a mist of a sweat on his face.

As he turns to face the handsome man, he can hear a growl from one of the girls behind him.

“My fi-finger.” He chokes out, an airy whimper making up his words. ”Hal… She bit my finger.” he says, pointing at her bloody face with his bloody hands.

The man is of the unflinching kind, bats his eyes as he pieces it all together, but he doesn’t react with any repulsion.

“Does anyone have a clean towel?” He yells at the cadets. Someone hands it to him and he expertly wraps Jiggly’s hand. “You all, keep going. I’m taking him to the doctor.”

“Doctor…” Jiggly ponders, too distracted by his bleeding finger.

“Are you feeling lightheaded?” Hal questions. “I’m taking you over to your friend, Dr. Nemo.”

It’s a few blocks of his dazed stumbling. He didn't notice what happened to the fish girls, or the cadets, or how long it took him to get there. All he knows is that suddenly he is at the steps of your clinic, the big dark blue door looking over him and Hal firmly holding his side..

And as if you sensed it, even before Hal could let go of the cloth he pressed to his hand to knock, you open the door. There, above them, in your usual dark and neat attire.

“What happened?” You inquire.

“Doc! Jiggly’s had an accident.” Hal explains.

You usher for him to come inside, Jiggly feels as if he levitates as the muscular, but gentle, man guides him up.

“Just sit him down somewhere.” You say absentmindedly, grabbing things from the many cabinets and shelves. “Caro! We have a patient.” You shout for your apprentice. The girl would usually come down sooner.

“Yes Miss Nemo!” She politely replies, eager to attend however she can. Until she sees who it is and lets out a gasp. “Jiggles!” She calls in awe, seeing his bloodstained clothes.

“What happened to him?” You ask Hal, seeing that Caro has now taken to applying pressure to Jiggly’s hand.

“I think one of the younger water women bit him…” He ponders. He stands a little too close to you. You can basically smell him, the sheen of perspiration… his dark red locks dampened and slicked back, the muscles in his neck and arms exposed so handsomely.

Focus!

“Siren or mermaid?” You ask.

“I think… mermaid.” Hal replies, unsure.

“Did she have the weird eyes?” You ask.

“Her face was covered in blood, I didn’t really notice if -”

“Yes!” Jiggly shouts from his seat at your small breakfast table. “Horrible eyes, horrible child.”

“Child?” you purse your lips, Caro even lets out a giggle. “How bad could she have bitten you?”

As you set the items on the table beside him, Caro slowly unwraps the bloody rag… and - it’s quite awful.

“Ha!” You laugh, a hearty laugh, Caro eventually joins in. “A child did this to you?!”

“She was feral and - uuaaahh!” He whines again. You had taken advantage of his distraction to pour antiseptic onto his wound, your apprentice dabs at it with some clean linens.

“Shouldn't we put him on one of the tables?” Hal quips.

“Eh, this seems pretty basic. Right Caro?” The girl doesn't reply, being hyper focused on her task, the bloody hand, the bloody rag, the bloody linen. “Caro, I said; this seems pretty basic, right?” you say more sternly.

She blinks back to reality, “Yes Miss, quite simple.”

“See? Just a few stitches and some healing goo and he’ll be good.” You tell Hal, placing a hand on his chest, quite firm and… toned, to push him back gently. You needed the space, he was too close for comfort, as usual.

“Miss… stitches or, do you think we could use the good stuff?” Caro suggests… ah yes, expensive magical healing ointments.

“Fine… just a little should be enough.” You conceded, after all he was the most popular baker on the lake, and you weren’t sure how happy the townsfolk would be with his being out of commission.

Hal once more, is upon you… it’s a bad habit of his that you’ve tried to quell. And he is never subtle, which you wouldn’t particularly mind if he weren’t so keen on doing so in public.

“You know, I’ve gotten a letter from my cousin.” He says, “She sends her regards, inquires about you.”

“Your cousin, the demon hunter?” Jiggly buds in, and for a moment, you wish to chastise Hal for his lack of prudence. “How does Doc know her? Isn’t she halfway around the world?”

He stutters, not knowing how to answer Jiggly’s question. How indeed does he explain to Jiggly that you are acquainted with his cousin, who is a local legend but has not returned to the area in quite a few years, that you know her despite never having been in town at the same time as you?

He regrets his insolence. How could he have said that so easily?

“I don't. We don't know each other at all.” you reply, with a special and strange tone.

“But he just said you did.” Jiggly argues.

“No he didn’t.” A little more charmingly.

“He didn’t?” Caro tenses as Jiggly resists, but she continues to treat his wound.

“He didn’t. He hasn’t mentioned anything about his cousin at all.” It takes a moment for your words to sink in, but slowly, they do.

“That’s right… Hal hasn’t said anything about that.”

“Precisely Jiggly, he hasn’t said anything at all.” You reply contently once you see him nod with a distant daze in his eyes. As soon as Jiggly’s attention is diverted by your apprentice, you look back to Hal.

“You lack prudence.” You sternly whisper, making sure Jiggly is unaware. “Leave - and make sure he gets home.”

“I - forgive me. It slipped, and I -”

“Don’t make any mention of it to him - ever again. Not to anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“You are the only person in this damn place that knows, and I guarantee you do not want to be responsible for it getting out.” You cut him off before he can respond. “Caro, are you done?”

“Yes Miss, just about!”

“Good. Jiggly, Hal will take you home. Let your hand rest for today but you should be fine tomorrow.”

Caro quickly ushers them out, and once the door is closed behind them, she turns to you.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Of course it did - do you doubt me?” You ask her, almost displeased.

“It's just… you haven’t done anything like that in a long time.”

“Girls like me - like us - don’t get rusty.” You remind her, finishing her sentence with a tap to the tip of her nose.

At the doorstep of your clinic Jiggly feels confused, almost dreamy, as if he only had the faintest impression of what had just occurred during this particular morning.

#hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #hyunjin au #strange devotion skz collab

[theladyofdeath]

Get a Clue {ACOTAR}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 30.

All installments co-written with @snelbz​

Warning: language.

Autumn/Halloween 2020 {Collection}

I know, I’m a little past the date....but, we wanted to post anyway. :)

Prompt sent in by @photofeesh​

Elain was dressed in her finest 1950s attire. It was her first character-themed murder mystery party, and she had decided there was no better time to throw it than on Halloween. The theme? Clue. And since none of them knew their character until everyone arrived, they decided to dress in 1950s wear, due to the fact that the board game had been invented around that time.

The girls used to love playing Clue as children.

Nesta would always get pissed if she didn’t win, Feyre was usually doodling while they were playing, and Elain just loved to have fun; but, no matter how the game went, they all got excited to play together. It was one of Elain’s fondest memories of her childhood: playing board games on rainy days with her sisters. 

“I look ridiculous!”

Elain rolled her eyes as she adjusted the gloves that she wore. “You look handsome!”

He stepped out of his closet. The blue ascot tied around his throat was loose, but he tugged on it as if it were a noose.

The dark blue naval uniform looked like it was made for him, but it hadn’t been. It had belonged to the girls’ papa and seeing Azriel wear it brought a huge smile to Elain’s face

He couldn’t complain when she looked at him like that. “I’m not putting the hat on,” he grumbled.

His hair was slicked back, and Elain found herself wishing that she was born in the 50’s so she could look at Azriel like this every day.

Heading downstairs to make sure everything was ready, she paused to press a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, you are,” she said, with a smile.

She could hear Azriel groan as she took to the stairs, knowing full well that he’d do anything to please her.

Mor was in Elain’s kitchen, sealing the final envelope.

“No!” she yelled, clutching all the envelopes to her chest. “I haven’t hid them yet!”

Elain chuckled. “I have to take out my chicken!”

Mor narrowed her eyes but hurried away, nonetheless, taking her envelopes along with her. When Elain mentioned that she wanted to throw a murder mystery party, Mor was the first to volunteer to be the mediator of the whole thing. Mor definitely had a flare for the dramatics, but she also loved to know things others didn’t. Therefore, she offered to be the one to hide the envelopes and watch everyone else go crazy trying to figure out her riddle. 

It wasn’t long before everyone arrived. Feyre and Rhysand first, having sent their three-month-old infant away with a sitter for the first time, even though the sitter was just Rhysand’s sister. Cassian and Nesta showed up next, and ten minutes late, in true Nesta fashion. Lucien was the last to arrive, bringing a plate of brownies. Unlike Nesta, Lucien’s late arrival was excused, considering he had to work until 6:45 on the opposite end of town. 

“Do we get to eat first?” Cassian asked, his stomach grumbling so loud that everyone could hear. Elain had to admit that the 1950s were kind to the men in their lives.

Cassian looked like an old-time greaser in his rolled up jeans, his black Converse, his plain white tee, and his leather jacket. A cigarette rested behind his ear and his newly cropped, chin-length hair was greased back. He was the complete opposite of Nesta, who wore the cutest, knee-length circle dress. Her hair was in tight curls, and she finished her outfit with a pearl necklace and white gloves.

They were the living image of Danny and Sandy.

Elain felt the sudden urge to sing, but controlled herself.

Feyre and Rhys, however, looked like the President and CEO of a very well established 50’s business. They weren’t, obviously, but the vest, wool overcoat and thin tie Rhys wore and the very smart, but powerful sheath skirt and top Feyre wore would have fooled anyone. The red bowler hat she wore complimented the look flawlessly.

Then there was Lucien in his khakis, suspenders, plaid button down tee, and slicked back, fiery red hair. 

Elain’s friends had done her proud. “Dinner is a part of the game. So, if you all would follow me to the dining room table.” 

No one complained at that request. Cassian was the first to sit down, and Nesta was rolling her eyes as she joined him to his right.  

“As we start our meal, I’m going to pass the basket around. There’s an envelope for boys, and an envelope for the girls. Pick your character.” As Elain sat down, she held her basket to her right, where Lucien was sitting, already filling half his plate with corn. 

She adjusted the floppy, but adorable hat on her head and said, “You can tell us all who you are, but the rest of the information needs to be learned throughout the night, as you’re being asked questions.”

Nesta took the basket from Lucien and she and Cassian both removed a small piece of paper. She glanced in the envelopes. “Why do the guys have an extra character that the girls don’t have?”

“Someone has to be the dead guy,” Mor shrugged.

“Sweet,” Cassian said, grinning. “I hope I get to be the dead guy.” He looked at the slip in his hand and groaned. “Man. I’m Colonel Mustard. I don’t get to be the dead guy.”

Without a word, Azriel dropped to the floor, making Feyre jump.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

He looked up at her with a smirk. “My name is Mr. Boddy. And I’m the dead guy.”

Azriel was laying on his stomach and when Elain rolled her eyes and held the basket out to Feyre and Rhys, he knocked the stupid hat off of his head.

If he had been murdered, the hat never would have stayed on anyways.

“I’m Miss Scarlet,” Feyre announced. “You?”

“Professor Plum,” Rhysand snorted. “Of course.” 

The basket got back to Elain, and she picked the last slip of paper from the girl’s envelope. She beamed, “I’m Mrs. White, which means Nesta must be Mrs. Peacock?”

Nesta held up the slip in her hand that proved Elain was correct.

“And Luce is Mr. Green,” Elain said, giving her best friend the side eye. 

Lucien grinned, stuffing his mouth full of chicken. 

Azriel reached up from the floor and stole a roll from the basket.

“So, how does this go, Mor?” Cassian asked, his mouth full.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Nesta muttered.

Cassian didn’t bother swallowing. “Okay, mom.”

“Well,” Mor said, clapping her hands together as Azriel dragged his entire plate down to the rug beneath the table. “On the back of your slips is a character description. You all need to follow the character description, along with the other details noted on your paper. We’ll start ruling people out until someone realizes who the killer is. In each room, there’s an envelope, hidden. Throughout the party, when you find an envelope, there are clues that will help you rule out specific characters, weapons, and rooms. I have an envelope inside my jacket pocket. Inside that envelope is the killer, the room in which Mr. Boddy was killed, and the weapon that was used to kill him.”

“Does the killer know who the killer is?” Cassian asked.

“We just picked our characters two seconds ago, Cass,” Feyre snorted.

“No,” Elain said, politely. “The murderer was chosen at random.”

“How do we know you didn’t rig the game?” Azriel asked, voice muffled by the table.

“Because,” Mor said, eyeing Azriel under the table. He smirked as he took another huge bite of green beans. “I am nothing but an honest woman.”

“This is actually your house though,” Cassian said, pointing at Azriel. “And Mr. Boddy is the owner of the house in Clue. What if I would have been the dead guy, would we have had to be at our place? A two bedroom apartment with three cats wouldn’t have been near as fun.”

Elain was pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing quietly.

Cassian took a drink of his wine and muttered, “It would definitely have been one of the cats.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Everyone understand the rules of the game?” 

A series of nods rounded the table. 

Elain smiled brightly. “Then let the game begin!”

“Can we finish eating first?” Cassian asked, his mouth still full.

Nesta just sighed, and shook her head.

“I hope so,” Azriel muttered. “No telling how long it will take you lot to figure out who killed me, and I’m starving.”

“You can eat while you play,” Elain said, pointedly toward her fiancé.

“You mean while I’m dead?” He asked. “Because I’m dead, I can’t answer any questions, so…”

He trailed off and shoved a forkful of chicken into his mouth.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Professor Plum?”

“Yes, Ms. Peacock?” He said, falling into character.

She stood, picking up her wine glass. “I’ve run out of wine, will you accompany me to the kitchen? I’ve got some questions I need to ask you.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t out of wine.”

With a heavy sigh, Nesta said, “I’m trying to be in character.”

He took a drink of his own wine, but said, “Sounds like your character needs to get her story straight.”

Looking him dead in the eye, she tipped her glass back and drained it. “Okay, now I need a refill. Plum, you’re with me.”

Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she headed for the kitchen and Rhys glared at Cassian. “Now I’m not going to get any information out of her.”

Cass smirked. “I know.”

Rhysand just shook his head as he followed Nesta into the kitchen. Cassian was instantly eyeing Lucien, who was sipping from his wine glass.

“Mr. Green,” Cassian began, cordially. 

Lucien blinked. “Yes, Colonel?” 

“Shall we leave these ladies alone and go for a walk of our own?” Cassian asked.

Lcien lifted an auburn brow. “Sounds like you’re flirting with me, Colonel.”

Azriel snorted from his place on the rug.

Cassian grinned. “Don’t let Peacock hear you. She gets jealous.” 

Lucien laughed as he pushed himself up from the table. The men, with their plates in hand, went into the living room.

Elain faced Feyre, who was already watching her with narrowed eyes. 

Feyre glanced down at her card. “Where were you at five this afternoon, Mrs. White?”

Elain didn’t skip a beat. “Changing the sheets in the master bedroom, of course.”

Feyre sipped from her glass. “And why was there need to change the sheets?” 

Elain’s cheeks heated. “Shut up, Miss Scarlet, goodness.” 

“Can I go be dead in the living room?” Azriel asked from the floor. 

“Shh, you’re dead,” Feyre said, not looking away from the face of innocence in front of her. “What I meant was…” A dramatic pause. “There wasn’t blood on the sheets from where you stabbed him with a knife was there?”

Azriel murmured from the floor, “Jesus, Feyre, bury the lead.”

“Of course not,” Elain said, a hand pressed to her heart. “I always change the sheets on Tuesday.”

From the floor, “It’s Friday, babe.”

“…on Friday,” she corrected herself.

Feyre narrowed her eyes at her sister again, standing from her chair and walking around the table to grab a roll. “Your story checks out. You’re off the hook…for now.”

“I think a better question is where were you at the time of the murder, Miss Scarlett,” Elain asked, eyeing Feyre.

“Easy,” she said, pausing with a hand on her hip. “Professor Plum was teaching me a lesson.”

“Boooo!” Clearly, the rug hadn’t liked Feyre’s innuendo.

“You know, you’re loud for a corpse,” Elain said, looking down at Azriel, and back to Feyre, who was smirking. “And could he corroborate that story?”

“Professor Plum!” Feyre called.

He poked his head in from the kitchen a moment later. “Yeah?”

Feyre gestured to Rhys. “Go ahead.”

Clearing her throat, Elain asked, “Where were you at the time of the murder, Professor?”

“Banging Miss Scarlet,” he replied, without missing a beat, smirk growing.

Feyre’s grin widened.

Elain cleared her throat. “Thank you…Professor.”

“Anytime,” he winked, before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

“Is that all?” Feyre crooned.

Elain cleared her throat. “How is it that you know Mr. Boddy?”

Feyre’s brows scrunched together, unsure of how to answer, but then Elain cleared her throat and gestured down at the notecard in Feyre’s hand.

“Oh,” Feyre began. “We are….having an affair, it seems.”

“My, Mr. Boddy, Professor Plum. You sure do have a long list of lovers, Miss Scarlet. Perhaps a jilted lover had found out about your affair with Mr. Boddy. Or maybe Mr. Boddy found out about Professor Plum?”

“I was open about my promiscuous lifestyle,” Feyre said, yawning dramatically. “Now if you'll excuse me, Mrs. White, I’ve grown bored of this conversation.”

Elain’s mouth fell open but she did nothing more as Feyre dramatically made her exit.

Azriel snorted. “Ouch.”

“Hush, dead man,” she whispered, harshly.

The dead man's grin only widened.

As Elain made her way into the living room and snatched Lucien from Cassian’s attentions, someone new soon filled them. Mrs. Peacock perched herself on his lap.

“Well, hello,” he said, dragging a hand up her thigh.

“Colonel,” she said, with an over exaggerated southern drawl.

Cassian snorted. “I don’t remember Mrs. Peacock being a southern bell.”

“Instead of what you don’t remember, how about we talk about what you do remember?” Nesta reached into the pocket of his jacket. “How exactly did this wrench come to be on your person?”

Cassian took a long drink out of his glass of wine — which he used as an excuse to look at his character slip — before saying, “My cat broke down today and I had to fix it. Must have accidentally brought it with me.”

Nesta blinked, then whispered, “Your…cat, Cass?”

Cassian’s brows drew together as he looked back down at his notecard. “Car. My car. I meant….car. My car broke down, hence the wrench.”

“And when did your car break down?” Nesta continued, after she rolled her eyes. 

“This afternoon,” Cassian shot back.

“At what time?” Nesta asked.

Cassian looked back down at his notecard. “At four-thirty this afternoon. I then spent the rest of my afternoon working on my car, until I came here, of course.”

“For someone who’s been working on his car all afternoon you sure are clean,” she noted.

“I, uh-.” Cassian froze and glanced down at his card, for some fact of information that may help out. “I always carry a change of clothes with me. It never hurts to be prepared.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Prepared for what?”

He squeezed one of her thighs. “Prepared for anything.” He smacked her ass and asked, “What about you, Mrs. Peacock?” He enunciated the last word.

“What about me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I can’t help but notice I missed you in the parlor for drinks,” he mused, raising a glass of whiskey to his lips. Nesta blinked. She wasn’t even sure where he’d gotten it from, the glass of wine was still sitting on the table beside him. “Mr. Boddy was also suspiciously absent.”

Nesta’s brows rose. “What are you implying?”

Cassian shrugged. “That Miss Scarlet wasn’t Boddy’s only lover.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed with such distaste that it was hard for Cassian to stay in character. “Is that what you think, Colonel?”

Cassian cleared his throat and muttered under his breath, “Just a side note, I love it when you call me that in that damned accent.”

Nesta gave him a small, mischievous grin. “Noted.”

“I think,” he began, slipping back into character, “Mr. Boddy told you your secret tryst was over and you retaliated.”

Nesta chuckled and squeezed Cassian’s leather covered shoulder. “A good theory, but you should have done your research, Colonel.” Cassian’s eyebrows furrowed but Nesta continued. “Mr. Boddy was my brother. Estranged. I was here tonight to make amends.”

He asked, “Peacock is your married name?” She nodded. “What happened to Mr. Peacock?”

“Nothing you can prove,” she said, with a smirk. “But I wasn’t present for drinks because I was doing drugs in my room.”

Cassian blinked. “Oh.”

“Yes, I have a drug problem.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really? Or are you making that up to throw me off?”

“Heroin.” Nesta’s face was deadpan and he was about to suggest they have a talk with Elain after the game when she smirked. “No, I fell asleep in my room. I had a long drive in and needed a nap before I was pleasant for company.”

“I see,” Cassian muttered. “Now, back to Mr. Peacock… Are you completely over him? Or…”

Nesta rolled her eyes but pressed a kiss to Cassian’s lips before pushing herself off of him and walking toward Lucien on the other side of the room.

“Finally, time alone with the colonel.” Cassian looked up to find Feyre, sipping from a glass of wine, plopping down on the couch beside his chair.

“That sounds terrifying coming from you,” Cassian mumbled.

“Don’t tell the professor,” she said with a wink. 

“It’s fortuitous that you were wanting to speak with me,” Cassian said, matching Nesta’s overly dramatic southern drawl. “Cause I was wanting to speak with you, Miss Scarlet.”

“Oh?” She crossed a leg and raised an eyebrow.

“Rumor has it you were quite familiar with our late host,” he said.

“Rumors can sometimes be true, and sometimes be false,” she said, adjusting her hair. At some she’s ditched the bowler hat. Cassian was willing to bet that it had something to do with the fact that her cheeks were as red as her hat was. And her glass was nearly empty again. A year of not drinking had turned Feyre into a lightweight.

“So, which was it?” Cassian pressed. “True or false?”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed as she finished off her glass. “Butler!”

With a snort, Mor came to Feyre’s side with a bottle of white wine and refilled Feyre’s glass. Before she left, she coughed, “Under the coffee table.”

Both Feyre and Cassian blinked as she walked away.

As Feyre started sipping her new glass of wine, Cassian was reaching under the coffee table, where he pulled out a manila envelope that read Living Room.

Feyre’s brow arched as she snatched it away from him and opened it up. She pulled out a single, white feather. “What the hell is this?”

“A clue,” Cassian whispered, taking it away from her. “A white feather.” He was looking around at all the characters, trying to scope out what their notecards said about their personalities. “What does it mean?”

Feyre stared at the feather for a second before saying, “I dunno, I’m too drunk to form a thought.” 

“Is it from a hat? One of those ridiculous things women wear around their necks like a scarf? From a pillow? Feather-duster?” Cassian guessed, then gasped. “What if it has to do with the color and not the feather itself?” His eyes shot to Elain. “Mrs. White is the murderer?”

Feyre shook her head. “I may be drunk, but even I know you can’t have a case based on one clue, Colonel.”

“No, but one clue can get you closer to solving it,” he replied, tucking it behind his ear.

Feyre looked at Cassian for a moment with the most serious of expressions before bursting into laughter. Cassian shot Rhysand a look from across the room, but Feyre’s husband was watching her with the utmost adoration. 

And so the night went on.

There were arguments and accusations and all the while, the wine continued to flow. At some point, Azriel excused himself to open a bottle of whiskey, which he generously offered a glass of to his brothers and Nesta, before he retook his spot on the floor, bottle still in his hand.

Nearly two hours later, the entire group was back in the living room. Azriel was in a chair now, thank the Cauldron, but now there was a prop knife jammed between his arm and side, “stabbing” him. He silently continued to sip on his wine, watching in amusement as Nesta and Rhys yelled at each other, arguing over whether he was stabbed or beaten over the head with a pipe.

“There’s not nearly enough blood for him to have been stabbed!” Rhys said, extending his arm towards Azriel.

“It’s not real,” Nesta cried, enunciating the words. “Did you expect Elain to let Mor spray her house in fake blood?”

“If she were committed, she would have,” Azriel said, but Elain glanced over at him and he became as quiet as the dead man he was pretending to be and put his glass back to his lips.

“I’m right,” Nesta hissed.

“Uh, no, I’m right,” Rhysand argued, his arms crossed. “I know who the murderer is, I’ve figured it out.”

Nesta scoffed. “That’s shit, but okay, go ahead.”

Rhyasnd lifted one brow. “Fine. Murderer? You. Weapon? Rope. Room? Kitchen.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but looked at Mor alongside everyone else.

Mor looked back and forth between Nesta and Rhysand before slowly shaking her head.

“Ha!” Nesta yelled, pointing her finger at Rhysand. “You failed!”

“My gods, I’ve never loved you more,” Cassian muttered, sipping from his glass.

“I win,” Nesta announced, simply. 

Rhysand was not going down easily. “No, you do not win.” 

“No?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms, as the rest of them watched her and Rhysand’s little display. “The killer is Miss Scarlett. Weapon? Rope. Room? Bedroom.”

The room was quiet for a moment before Mor said, “She’s right.”

“She killed him because he was going to end their affair, essentially cutting her off from the lifestyle she had grown accustomed to living,” Nesta said, not a hint of doubt on her face.

Rhys looked to Mor who shrugged. “She’s right again.”

Rhys breathed, “Damn it,” and dropped down next Miss Scarlett.

Who had been drooling on the arm of the couch since nine o’clock.

Rhysand shook his head as he looked down at his sleeping, drunk, passed out wife.

“I’m right?” Nesta repeated, and looked to Cassian with wide eyes. “What do I win?”

Mor hesitated. “What do you win?”

Nesta nodded, looking at Elain. “Yeah, I won, there’s a prize, right?”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip. “There’s….cake.”

Nesta followed Elain’s gaze to where the half-eaten cake sat on the dining room table.

“You win half a bottle of whiskey,” Az said, leaning forward and setting the bottle

and the fake knife on the table in the center of the room.

Nesta raised an eyebrow as she looked at Azriel. “That’s almost completely empty.”

He shrugged. “You got to enjoy your prize early.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled and grabbed the bottle regardless. They all couldn’t help the smiles on their faces, all except for Feyre, who Rhys had gathered in his arms, ready to take her home. More laughs and love had been shared tonight than some people got to experience in a lifetime.

None of them had a clue how they got so lucky.

#31 days of halloween #acotar #late #sjm #fanfic #oneshot

[sherrybaby14]

Thor’s Kitten

Request:  Hi can I request a dark!thor fic? Something where reader falls asleep in his bed(I imagine it’s the biggest and most comfy and unused cuz it’s Thor). She doesn’t know he’s coming tho and when he finds her he thinks she’s like a welcome back gift. So he uses her until she wakes up. Thank you!

Warnings: Rough sex, Dark!Thor,  Non-con (Please do not read if this offends you), turns into dub con.  

Pairing:  Thor x reader

Words:  2500

A/N:  this is FILTHY!!

It was a stupid chore.  Changing the linens on every royal’s room in the palace even if they hadn’t slept there the night before.  Here you found yourself changing the sheets on Prince Thor’s bed for the twelfth day in a row when he was no where to be found, probably fighting some important battle.  You doubted he was even on Asgard.  

You dropped the clean set of sheets on the chair next to the bed and looked at the flawless mattress.  The gold and red comforter and satin pillow cases looked so inviting.   It was large enough you had to get on your knees and crawl across the thing to get the linens down so you were aware how soft it was.  

A yawn left your mouth.  This was your final task of the day.  You looked down at your blue dress.  You were leaving here to meet up with friends and already changed out of the maid’s uniform.  Managed to freshen up your hair and makeup too.    

You changed early since the servant’s rooms were on the far side of the palace and you didn’t want to walk back after doing this meaningless task.  Nobody was expecting to see you again the rest of the night.  You told your friends you weren’t coming, you could still surprise them a few hours late.  There really was no need to rush.  

Besides, the bed looked so inviting.   Another yawn left and you fell forward, hugging an untouched pillow, spreading out over the massive piece of furniture.  Just a little cat nap, you told yourself as you drifted off.  

~~

“That was a battle for the ages.”  Loki took off his helmet as they walked into the palace.  

“Another victory for Asgard.”  Thor ran his fingers through his locks.  “One that must be celebrated.”  

He looked to his comrades.  They all looked exhausted.  Lady Siff shook her head.  

“None of you want to play?”  Thor turned to look at them, holding his arms up.  “Surely you have the spirit for celebration brother?”  

“I’m having a kitten sent to your room.”  Loki laughed.  “That way you will always have something to entertain yourself, since none of us can keep up.”  

“One that scratches!”  Fandral added in.  “Claws at our leader’s eyes.”  

“And plays games, keeps Thor on his toes when they’re not biting at them.”  Siff laughed.  

“Of course!”  Loki clapped.  “Thor always benefits from a challenge.  A kitten eager for a lesson.  The mighty Thor will have the poor thing meowing at his feet by the end of the night.”  

The group exploded with chuckles and Thor shrugged.  

“Tomorrow night then.”  Thor pointed at them.  “There will be a feast.”  

He was greeted with forced enthusiasm and shook his head as he spun around.  The warriors needed to learn to let loose a little.  

~~

When Thor arrived at his rooms he took in the scent.  Home.  Maybe the group was right to spend the evening relaxed.   Besides, there was a tint of himself in his nose.  He needed a long hot shower.  He didn’t bother lighting his room as he went straight for the wash.  

The hot water did him good, as he washed away the blood and grime on his body.  When he stepped out he wrapped a deep red towel around his hips.   He should be more tired than his comrades, but his blood was still pumping.  

Maybe he would dress and leave the walls.  Find a way to wear out the adrenaline coursing his veins.  He stepped into the main room and lit the area.  He was heading to his wardrobe when he heard a soft nose from the bed.  

His eyes went wide when he saw her.  

“Brother.”  Thor shook his head as he cracked his jaw.  “You’ve outdone yourself.”    

A kitten in the bed.  One who would scratch and claw.  The night just took an interesting turn.

~~

You were on a beach, your toes in the sand.  The wind was in your hair and there was a picnic next to you.  The sand started to wave.  Was water coming?  

“Good evening Kitten.”

The voice was to real.  You glanced around.  You were alone on the beach.  The sand started to give way and you tumbled.  

Your eyes popped open and you looked around, confused.  Where was the water?  The clear skies?  

“You’re quite the actress.”  The deep focus focused your thoughts.  “How did Loki acquire you on such short notice?”  

“What?”  You looked at the face next to you in bed and your eyes widened as you scooted away.  “Your highness.  I apologize.  This is so unprofessional of me.”  

You were going to lose your job.

“A Kitten who wants to play games.”  Thor reached out and grabbed your waist, yanking you back to him like you weighed nothing.  “I have a feeling you will keep me entertained until all hours of the morning even without them.”  

You pushed your hands to his chest and tried to scoot away.  Unsure what he was talking about, or why he was touching you this way.  Your sleep was so deep you couldn’t quite comprehend anything but embarrassment.  

“Please don’t tell anyone.”  You turned to the ceiling, wanting to roll across the bed and stand, but Thor rolled you onto your back and pinned you with one hand.  “I fell asleep.  I didn’t mean to, I mean that is a lie.  I did not think you would return.”  

“So the theme is sleeping beauty.”  Thor moved so he was on top of you from behind, his hands ran up your back and grabbed your wrists, moving them above your head as he inhaled your neck.  “I guess I should awake you with a kiss.”  

His lips met your neck and your eyes flashed open.  

“No.” You tried to buck underneath him.  “I am a maid. This is not a game.  I fell asleep in your bed.  I apologize.”  

“If you wanted to role play maid you should’ve at least warn the outfit.”  Thor sighed and rolled off your back.  “Breaking character already Kitten?  I am a bit disappointed.”  

You didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, but got the general gist and started crawling toward the end of the bed, eager to escape this embarrassment.

“But all is forgivable.”  A hand was on your ankle yanking you back before you made it to the edge.  

“NO! Please.”  You were spun on to your back. “This is a misunderstanding.  I can explain everything!”

“Drop the maid angle.”  Thor’s hands went to the straps of your dress.  “Your prince desires to wake up his beauty with much more than a kiss.”  

What the fuck?  You blinked as he tugged on your straps, destroying the dress like it was nothing.  

“Stop!”  You went to cover yourself, but the blonde grinned down at you as he shredded your outfit.  “STOP!”  

You tried to twist and turn away, but his hands were too powerful and his thighs gripped you in place.   So you brought your arms to your chest to cover yourself while Thor did away with the rest of your clothing, leaving you bare to the man.  

“This is a mistake.”  Your chest started to heave.  “An error!  Please you must stop! Let me leave!”  

“Now now Kitten.”  Thor’s fingers ran up your arms until they grabbed your wrists, spreading you for his view.  “Let me enjoy my victory.”  

Heat covered your body as your mind caught up to what was happening.  You struggled against his grip, but all it did was make your chest bounce for the heir to the throne.   He responded by licking his lips and dropping his head.  

You cried out as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.  

“Stop!”  You tried to wiggle into the mattress, but his tongue worked you like an expert, flicking you into a hard peak.

He moved his mouth to your other breast, and the air felt cool against your hard pebble, but Thor dropped your wrist and began tweaking at it.  At first you moaned, grateful the pressure was back to your teased nub.  

Then you realized you had a free hand.  You started shoving at him, but he was like a wall.  You tried to slap, pull his hair, claw at him.  But he kept sucking and pinching you.  

“STOP!”  You dug your nails as hard as you could into his shoulder.  

That elicited a grunt from the man who lifted his head and lost attention on your chest.  There was an electricity in his eyes as he glared down at you.

“I was warned you would scratch.”  He tightened his grip on your wrist to the point you whimpered.  “But NONE OF THAT!  You will behave yourself Kitten, do you understand?”  

The boom of his voice shook you to your core.  Hot tears on your cheeks, fear in your soul.  You responded without thinking, nodding your head yes.

“Good Kitten.”  Thor smiled and his grip lessened. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you purring by the end of the night.”  

His head dipped again.  You winced as he resumed his attention on your breasts.  Flickering his tongue and teasing his teeth on one while he kneaded the other.  

You were too scared and confused to react, but your body had other ideas as you began to rub your thighs together, hoping to make a friction between your legs.  What was wrong with you?  Why were you enjoying this?

“Very good Kitten.”  Thor lifted his head, smiling.  “You deserve a reward for that.”

He went back on his haunches, letting you go as he dropped the towel.   A massive godly cock sprung forward.  Your pussy clenched at the sight, but your brain kicked into gear.

“No, no no,” You turned and started to crawl away.

“Here I was going to let you have a lick.”  Thor grabbed your hips before he pushed your head into the mattress and snaked his other arm around your hips, holding your ass in the air.  “But it appear my Kitten is eager for more.”  

“Please.  You’re too big.”  You gripped the sheets, trying to pull away from him.  “I can’t.”  

“Oh you can.”  You felt the head of his cock run up and down your slit.  “And you’re so nice and wet for me.  Good girl.”  

He began to press inside.  Your muscles struggled to accommodate his girth.  Again the tears came back.  

“PLEASE STOP!”  You were just a maid.  How did the happen.  “PLEASE.”

Your shoulder started to shake as you sobbed into the bed.   To your surprise he did, not pressing into you further.  He leaned over you and found your ear.  

“I promise, I care about your pleasure as much as my own.  You’re doing a great job by the way.  Loki really outdid himself with you.”  He kissed your cheek.  “You’re so convincing.  But lets continue with the game.”  

Your head was spinning.  A game? Loki?  What the hell was he talking about.  

His fingers stroked the top of your pussy and then found your pleasure.  Thor pushed down on your clit and started to rub, going in a circle, then up and down.  You squealed in response and your hips bucked backward, taking him further in causing you to gasp.

“Eager now Kitten?”  Thor let out a booming laugh.  “Don’t worry.  I’m here to take care of you.”  

Thor began to press down.  He was splitting you in half.  You let out an other worldly shriek and tried to bite down into the mattress.

“If you need to bite.”  His fingers grabbed your chin as he turned your head.  “These will do.”  

Two of his fingers slid into your mouth.  You didn’t know why but you found yourself moaning against them.   His other hand worked your clit further while he stretched you with his cock.  You found yourself sucking of them, like some safety blanket as he speared you.  

“Very good Kitten.”  Thor’s voice elicited a response in your body you weren’t expecting.  “We’re almost there.”  

Your vision started to blur.  The pleasure and the pain and the softness in your mouth as you sucked at his digits.  Sweat started to erupt all across your body.  

“Perfection.”  Thor’s pelvis touched your rear.  “You’re doing so well. I told you you could take me.”  

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder before spreading his thighs.  

“Let’s make you purr.”  He pulled out slightly, it created a strange ache and burn in your core.  

Then he went right back in.  You didn’t know if you wanted him gone or were happy he was back.  Before you could decide his fingers began to dance.  Changing the level of pressure of your now swollen bud, rubbing, stroking, light, hard.  

You found yourself sucking on his finger in response to your confusion, trying to pulsate at the same pace he was, but unable to keep up.  

“Such a good Kitten.”  Thor was now slamming in and out you.  

How had you not noticed?  Did it matter?  You started to rock against him, your body now desperate for his return.  

The coil in your center started to form.  Your vision going blurry as every effort you were capable of focused on one thing.  The sounds of your body slamming into each other, the taste of him in your mouth.  You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, needing him more than the bed or escape right now.  

“Prrrrr…” Thor let out a cat noise and your body shook in response.  

You were getting closer and closer, making unintelligible noises around his fingers.   He let out a grunt.  Lightning.  That was the only way you could describe it.  Your body started to convulse, more energy built up than you thought possible.  

It burst, like a thunderous roar.  Your veins flooded with him, you cried and moaned forgetting his fingers as you went limp under him.  

He held you close, pressing down on your clit as he joined you in release, flooding your womb with his seed.  You struggled for breath as he fell on top of your back.   Both of you struggling to regulate.  

Sleep started to return when SMACK!  Your ass exploded with pain while Thor’s member slipped out.  

“You did so well this first round.”  He pulled your to his chest as he laid on his back.  “But I was promised you’d be sleeping by my feet at the end of the night.  And you know, I am up to the challenge.”  

Yet again you had no clue what he was talking about, but you no longer cared.  You just wanted him to make you purr again.  

#thor #thor x reader #Thor Odinson #thor odinson x reader #thor marvel #marvel #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #thor fanfic #thor fanfiction

[shellheadtm-a]

Steve x Tony @shieldslinger​ / send me a ship and-

Who asks the other on dates:  lbh with each other here, these are the kind of assholes that have an actual date night.  sometimes they even make it to it and do date things.  but also let's be honest with the fact they've been going on dates for years and were too dumb to realize it.  museums?  burgers and a movie?  you know they've done it, you know it was a date, and you know they had literally no idea.  because they're dumbasses. Who is the bigger cuddler:  with all the unnecessary touching that went on with them from like literally steve's first day out of the ice and you come into my home and ask that question?  as touchy as they were before (those sweet, sweet shoulder squeezes of validation) you know it's worse now.  movie night's probably a nightmare just because you know it's either bc tony's draped some part of himself on steve, or they're jammed so close together you couldn't squeeze a sheet of paper between them, or...listen.  when two tactile people love each other very much, they're probably really gross and annoyingly handsy, and i don't mean in the...gropey kind of way, they're just touchy.  all the time.  must toch.  plus they have a shitton of issues, which probably doesn't help in that either but eh. Who initiates holding hands more often:  there's a theme here, you know that right.  there's a theme here, because it's a theme in canon, and it's tony offering a hand up to steve.  like it's a thing, you know it, i know it, so if you don't think tony's needy hand holder in this relationship, you'd be wrong.  it's sad, he gets this weird little thrill at even being able to do that, and on the one hand...you gotta feel bad for him.  he'd take whatever steve gives him and tell himself that's enough and he's content with it, because it's steve.  but knowing steve's okay with it?  a religious experience.

Who remembers anniversaries:  well, it's not steve rogers, i can tell you that.  and you know what, that's okay, and that's fair, and tony loves him anyway.  he might be the man with a plan, but he's useless with a planner.  he gets caught up in things, it's fine, tony remembers for the both of them, it's why he has friday.  what i'm saying is the only one who really remembers any important dates at all is friday. Who is more possessive:  i don't know that...you could really classify either of them that way?  overly protective, sure.  clucky with mother hen tendencies, the both of them, yeah.  taking what they can of each other's time, even if it's just to be able to say good night and good morning, absolutely.  but i don't think...with who they are as people, they really can't be. Who gets more jealous:  which goes back to being possessive, right, like tony has a little jealous streak but it doesn't manifest blatantly as one.  two, they're public figures so...there's not a lot of room for jealousy there.  like captain america and iron man might be characters they play (which are still them, i know i've talked about it but bear with me, it's an idealized version of them, separate from the inner selves) but they're public, you know, they're superheroes, and there's an expectation you share each other with the job.  and with the people you save.  with the world, really.  i think it's more about taking what time they do have as steve and tony more than anything else. Who is more protective:  this is a joke, right?  this is a joke.  these two idiots would throw themselves in front of each other over and over and over again if you let them.  that said, tony's moreso.  and i'll tell you why.  everything he's done?  all the bad?  the times he's sold his soul?  was to keep steve - and their loved ones - safe.  or happy, in a situation where there was really nothing they could do.  every time.  or i'll go one better.  tony will absolutely trade his own life for steve's in the blink of an eye, because he's always believed between the two of them steve's the better man.  he's done it.  willingly.  without a second thought once he's made the decision to do it.  he probably has a "sacrifing myself for the greater good and especially steve" face.  i'd like to lie and say that he understands if something happened to him how badly it would hurt steve but...if it came down to a choice of tony dying if it meant steve would live, he'd trade himself in a heartbeat.  that's uh.  something he's working on (he's not). Who is more likely to cheat:  this really is a joke.  steve "my middle name is noble" rogers and tony "has been in love with steve rogers for years" stark.  like tony would never, ever, ever say it, but this is it.  i don't mean in some fatalistic way, and i mean he fully believes he has an expiration date so he wouldn't say anything anyway, but this is it.  steve's always been The One.  his Person.  never would happen, not in a million fucking years. Who initiates sexy times the most:  you would think the answer is anthony edward stark and in most cases you'd be right, but steve rogers is not most cases, it is steve rogers and the rules don't apply to him.  by which i mean surprisingly steve is the proactive one here, and i think it's because tony is...he is hesitant.  it's weird, he's pushy with his forms of affection and then he backs off in this arena but i would argue he's getting better about it, and that the only reason he is like that is because he doesn't...he's very careful with steve, really, he's still walking on eggshells a little.  give him time, the tables will turn, he'll be pouncing steve from dark corners like an overgrown house cat with the 3am zoomies and a need to fight. Who dislikes PDA the most:  they're not, you know, public yet.  so it's not like this is really a thing outside of their friends circle, and even then, like.  i'm willing to bet literally nothing has changed in the slightest except you might walk in on them smoochin.  oh, the huge manatee.  tbf, for some people it might be (clint, looking directly at you) considering who wants to see their parents doing that but you know.  tough tiddy.  anyway, they’re just...not really the type. Who kills the spider:  listen they know some spiders who are very good people, and it's not nice to talk about premeditated murder.  there is a strict catch and release program in place and by that i mean tony will absolutely release said spiders back with their people.  except nat, because she's scary. Who asks the the other to marry them:  steve's joked around about that once.  once.  and tony did not take it well with his past history of failed relationships.  not out of a fear of committment, are you kidding me, this is tony who makes being married a personality trait.  but because he thinks he's a jinx.  i can tell you one thing, it won't be him that asks, if they ever get around to doing something more official than cohabitating.  shaking up.  whatever you want to call it.  not unless it's a jokey thing that gets taken seriously (which would change his tune embarrassingly fast).  he's gunshy at this point.  he's been engaged a few times and it's telling that he doesn't have like three divorces under his belt.  and also they're still feeling out the new them, which is fine, it's good they're doing that.  but he'd say yes in a heartbeat. Who buys the other flowers or gifts:  the answer you're looking for is tony stark.  it is tony stark who does this, thank you.  it could be big things, like, i don't know, a mansion (hello, 890 5th avenue).  training robots for the gym that...no one needs to know the price tag on that steve's going systematically tear apart.  training scenarios for the danger room he's spent three days straight coding and putting together.  new uniforms.  or it could be little things like a book steve's been meaning to get and read or his favorite bagel or...either way.  it's just who tony is, he can't help it.  if he has it, he gives it.  honestly i feel like at some point steve's just learned to roll with it because there's no stopping it.  he's been doing it forever, since day one (hey guys, remember the cray mainframe?), but now he's signed up for no complaining so you know.  that's on him. Who would bring up possibly having kids:  said like it hasn't already happened.  it's steve, by the way.  it's 1000% steve and he's already done it and tony's giving ten million reasons why he shouldn't when he knows he's going to say yes, and so what i'm really getting at here is they need to start thinking nursery colors for the mansion, because they're not fooling anyone.  and they're gonna be amazing parents and that kid is gonna be the most spoiled, loved, protected baby ever.  she hit the jackpot and doesn't even know it.  this is also the only superfamily content i am here for.  just a dumbass, a himbo, and a superbaby.  also consider.  all the cute.  knitted things.  i demand cute knitted things, it's not up for debate. Who is more nervous to meet the parents:  that's...not an issue, for one thing.  for another, like.  literally their entire friends group are...all...the same people.  lbr there was literally a betting pool in place and i wonder who won.  it keeps me up at night, wondering who cashed in on tony and steve no longer being quite as big of a pair of dumbasses as they have been.  part of me hopes it was peter parker, i worry about you, spooder-min. Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry:  tony uh.  will stay in his lab if they have a row but i can promise you he doesn't sleep much.  if at all.  it's part and parcel with the tony stark experience in this case.  he'll stay in his hidey hole and be sad because steve's mad at him, but won't do anything about it at first, just stay and be sad.  because he's sad.  and also Feeling An Emotion is hard and they don't know how to use their words. Who tries to make up first after arguments:  i'd argue 70% of the time it's probably tony.  like, they're both stubborn, we know that.  they both dig in their heels and think they're right, the other's wrong, and they're being stupid about it.  and about some things they're just literally never going to agree but don't know how to agree to disagree.  tony gets set in a rut and won't consider a deviation from what he's already decided is going to happen.  steve gets mulish and refuses to listen to another point of view.  they butt heads.  but honestly, at this point, at the end of the day (if he can stop sulking), after everything that's happened?  you know, at this point it's obvious that when they argue and stay mad, bad things tend to happen.  tony doesn't even have memories of the worst of it but he knows he took it badly, let's be real here (i say, like badly's not a hilarious understatement).  he may not apologize in a way that says he's wrong, but he may do it for helping escalate a fight.  bc, you know, blah blah, not half as good as anything as i am doing it next to you, blah blah, azure eyes, blah blah, good morning beloved. Who tells the other they love them more often:  honestly, now that those big scary words are out there, and there's no takebacksies in having said it, they've both been pretty free with them.  making up for lost time, i guess.  i think they have different tones, though.  tony's as free with those with steve as he's ever been with anything else.  he gives them...often?  and with no expectation of anything in return.  because that's how he's always been with steve.  and from steve like...a lot of time it seems like...as much as he says it?  it's a reassurance more than anything (because we know how tony is).  sometimes tony even lets himself believe it without second guessing himself.

#shieldslinger #array //: ( ooc asks ) #paradigm //: ( main ) #bind //: ( shieldslinger :: there's that one you circle back to - for home ) #// one day i'll do one of these memes without like #// writing a ship manifesto #// but today will not be that day #// anyway i fail at successfully putting into words #// how intense tony is about steve #// but here's this ig #array //: ( queue )

[steamingramyun]

perfect ; xmh.

summary ➷

you’re getting ready for a date you don’t really want to go on. luckily, minghao, your college sweetheart, is always there to cheer you on. 

pairing ➷

xu minghao x fem reader feat. jeon wonwoo

genre ➷

oneshot, angst, fluff

just a little.... bit of sadness. 

word count ➷

3696 words

alternative universe ➷

non-idol au, college sweethearts.

warnings ➷

major character death, illusions, and memories due to grief.

author’s note ➷

i read something like this a while ago, about someone holding on to their ex’s memory and i decided to write it for minghao since anon wanted a sad!minghao fic.. this one rly hit me in the feels when i wrote it like i kid u not i was crying in my pants at 3am in the morning. anyway, i hope you enjoy. 

--

[7 november 2019; 1 year after]

“isn’t this like, too much? i don’t know maybe it’s too seductive or something, maybe i look like i’m trying too hard? do i?” you said nervously, turning to your side and pulling the hem of your dress down as you looked in the mirror. the light blue sundress came to just above your knee, exposing your legs. it had been an impulse buy on a shopping trip your friends had dragged you out on to “get some sun”. kind of ironic that you’d ended up with a sundress of all things. you’d paired the sleeveless dress with a pair of white tennis shoes, simple gold studs on your ears to match the gold anklet that curled around your right leg. 

“is it really too showy? it’s the first date anyway, maybe it’s too much right..” you bit your lip, letting out a deep breath and surveying your reflection. you turned towards the boy perched on your bed, who was looking up at you with a smile on your face. “well? is it?”

“you’re going out for lunch, right? you look perfect, baobei, like always,” he replied, almond-shaped eyes studying your outfit. “and you’re wearing the anklet i got you. definitely a winner.”

“i never take it off, hao-ah,” you touch the piece of jewelry gingerly, the charms smooth on your fingers. you stop at the infinity sign charm, sighing with a sad smile. 

[12 december 2017; 11 months before]

“it’s an infinity sign, i put it there because i wanted you to know that i’ll be by your side for an infinite number of days,” minghao said shyly, blushing as you looked at him from across the couch. “wow, is this xu minghao being cheesy? where’s my camera i need to record this,”

it had been a lazy night in for the two of you, but minghao had come home and surprised you with a beautiful gold anklet with all your favourite things on it. you loved it, of course, but your boyfriend really wasn’t one for cheesy gifts or anything cheesy for that matter. if you weren’t lying on the couch with your feet in his lap, you’d have pinched his cheeks for how cute he was being. 

“shut up, y/n,” he pouted, a deep red blush continuing to creep up his cheeks at your comment. you only grinned wider. “oh my gosh hao, you’re blushing, you cheesy hoe,”

instead of a pout this time, though, you got a mischievous grin from your boyfriend as he began tickling your feet. you yelped, giggling uncontrollably and jerking your feet away from him although it proved useless once he’d moved up and begun attacking your side and neck. you’d never laughed more in your life than you had that night. 

“still. you always look perfect,” he said in his usual calm, matter-of-fact tone, leaning back against the pillows, “well i mean unless you’re covered in purple cupcake frosting,”

his too-long bangs fell into his eyes as he burst into a new fit of laughter. you almost instinctively told him to shut up and get his bangs trimmed, but bit back as a smile formed on your face. his bangs were always too long, and you always loved seeing him smile. even if it was about an unfortunate event involving your niece’s school bake sale and the frosting that you’d made for the cupcakes. “we don’t talk about that. it was one time,”

“sure we don’t. but remember our first date? you showed up in a denim jacket even though it was like, boiling outside,” he teased, pushing his bangs out of his face and adjusting the blanket around his legs. “i could tell you were dying, your cheeks were flushed. but it was cute so i didn’t say anything,”

you wrinkled your nose at him, crossing your arms. “i only wanted to impress you! i was going on a date with a dance major, y’all are overly fashionable and put together for no good reason! i was pressured. but then of course you went and showed up in just a plain t-shirt and jeans and ended up looking like a mf GOD.”

you pouted at him through the mirror, watching him shake his head and pat the spot on the bed next to him. you plop down on it readily, letting out a big sigh. “i’m nervous, what if he hates me once we're on the date itself. like he’s cute but it’s kind of weird that we met at grief support group.. plus it's even weirder that we’re going to the theme park after lunch, right?”

for a few moments, minghao didn’t reply. the theme park was somewhere special for the two of you and had been a fortnightly affair back when you were in your second semester of college because of how close it was to your school. you hadn’t been there for nearly a year though since it had been too much of a hassle and too tiring to go for him after he'd gotten sick. “i think you should just go and have fun, babe,”

“but hao - he’s not you-”

“don’t say that,” minghao interrupted, his tone going serious as he looked at you with piercing eyes. minghao always had a sort of finality and sureness about what he said, and you met his gaze nervously before he continued. “you’re beautiful. you were perfect for me and if this guy doesn’t see you the way i did then i think he’s an idiot. so stop second-guessing yourself and just have fun.”

“but-“ you hesitate for a moment, but his eyes don’t leave yours and you end up giving in to him, sighing in defeat. “fine, okay,”

you get off the bed and go into the bathroom, finishing up your makeup and instinctively brushing pale red eyeshadow onto your eyelids, it'd always been minghao's favourite colour on you. 

finishing your hair in a ponytail, you walk out with a wide grin on your face but look down only to see your ex-boyfriend asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. your smile fell a little as you watched him, memories of the past you both had shared still fresh in your head. 

you were still undeniably in love with him, sith the way his slightly-too-long hair fell in his face in the mornings when you both woke up, with the way his eyes crinkled up and disappeared when he smiled too wide, with how he'd always spend too much time choosing an outfit in the mornings for dance practice and asking you if it was dancer-y enough, with his intense passion for everything he did and loved. you loved how the two of you used to go on spontaneous dates, to the beach near your campus at 2 in the morning or to the convenience store when you were craving ramen and ice cream. you loved how easy, how effortless being in love with minghao had been, even when it had gotten tough on the two of you in the last months when his situation had taken a toll on the both of you. all you wanted was him, everything about him, and it was all you'd have ever needed in life. but clearly that wasn't the way the universe willed it to be for you. 

if you were being honest, you didn't even know why you were going on this date. but everyone was forcing it on you, they'd been forcing it on you for over a month. your friends sent you tinder profiles and screenshots of eligible classmates' instagram accounts. they all felt it was time for you to find someone new- it had been almost a year, after all. but you'd been asked out by wonwoo two days ago at the support group, and the two of you had actually been getting along quite well. as an added bonus, he was an economics major at your school so the two of you had been getting quite close over the past few weeks, spending time studying together and eating lunch together in between classes. but somehow.. you still felt hesitant. 

"hao! i'm ready," you call, waking minghao from his short nap. "and i'm twenty minutes early."

he blinked at you tiredly, smiling at how pretty you looked before shooting you a mischievous grin. "you always were too early," 

his light teasing made you want to push him as he mischievously pulled the blankets all the way up until only his eyes and the top of his head were exposed, eyes crinkling at the corners as he giggled once more. you went for it but then hesitated, watching him as he calmed down and pushed the blankets down again.

“hao…” you said softly, looking down at him.

he opened one cat-like eye at you, intrigued and attentive. “yes, baobei?”

“i think- i think i still love you,” you admitted shamefully, tears filling your eyes and trickling down your cheek as you clasped your hands tightly, knuckles turning white from the force, "and i don't know if i'm ready to let go of you just yet."

shaking his head, he sat up before meeting your eyes and smiling sadly at you with an odd sort of familiar fondness. "i love you too, Y/N, i always will. but don’t cry for me anymore, okay? you can move on too, i want you to be happy. don't cry for me anymore.”

you don't know what to say, silently staring into space but eventually turning back into the bathroom to fix your make-up. you finished it, walking back out only to be greeted by minghao's proud smile. "you look beautiful. like always," 

even if you had no make-up on, or were wearing the world's most horrifying pair of patterned pants, minghao always thought you were beautiful. and he always told you so, no matter what.

[20 september 2018; 3 months before.]

you'd been working on your essay for the past hour or so, sitting in the padded chair next to minghao's bed as you waited for him to wake up. you were halfway through your third point when you'd heard the sheets shift next to you. 

"y/n.. you're still here? you have class tomorrow, baobei, go back to your dorm and get some real sleep, please, the visitor's chairs are very uncomfortable," he said tiredly, eyes half open and hand squeezing yours gently. you tried not to show how worried you were about how cold his hand felt in yours. 

"i- it's okay, at least here i can look like a mess without the nurses judging me, right? if i go back to school i'll have to do my makeup to look decent," you said quickly, not wanting to leave his side yet. you did look like a mess, your hair in a bun, still wearing your clothes from the dance practice you'd run from and lipstick cracking because of the dry hospital air. it probably wouldve been a good idea to go home, but you couldnt bring yourself to do it. you watched as he frowned slightly, obviously not wanting you to waste your time or cause you to lose precious sleep and rest by making you stay with him. 

"you still look beautiful, baobei, you'll always look beautiful to me. but you'll be more grateful if you go back and get some real sleep okay? i'm not going anywhere anytime soon," he joked, gesturing to himself and the iv needle poking out from his elbow. "so go back, get some rest, and come here even more beautiful for me,"

and so you'd gone home that day, but returned every day after you classes. minghao'd stopped going to his two months before.

you smiled at him as confidently as you could, tightening your ponytail and grabbing your handbag. "i guess i'm ready, huh?" 

minghao nodded in affirmation at you, pulling back the covers to reveal the black cotton dance pants he always wore to practice but had also taken to wearing to bed because they were so comfortable. he slipped his feet into the slippers you still kept around for him under your bed, standing up and going out of your room and to the downstairs part of your apartment. 

you quickly followed his figure down, butterflies of anxiety filling your stomach and chest. when you got downstairs, minghao was on the couch, bottom half covered with one of your many extra blankets and a book in his hand, reading intently like you'd always see him when you got back from school.

[15 october 2018; 50 days before.]

"good evening, baby," you called to your boyfriend who was in his usual spot on the couch, a cup of tea on the table and a book in his hand. he looked exhausted, skin slightly pale and cold, a stark contrast from the healthy glow you remembered from months ago. "how do you feel?" 

"tired," he said softly, leaning into your neck as you came to sit with him, "and a little sick, but better now that you're back here," 

you felt bad, ever since minghao had started treatments you'd always tried to be back early so you could go with him. but that particular day you had a dance class to teach at night and couldn't make it, so your friend jun had offered to go with minghao instead. you felt guilty because you knew how sick treatments made minghao feel, but you also knew he was far too stubborn to let the bad feelings show if it meant compromising your own routine and activities. that night the two of you had just cuddled on the couch, falling asleep together to harry potter and the goblet of fire playing in the background. 

"babe? i'm still nervous. i can't shake it," you approached, sitting down on the other couch and lacing up your shoes. this time he really didn't reply at all, only shaking his head and looking up at you meaningfully. you know what he would've said, he'd told you everything earlier. 

"i'll come visit you later, okay?" you promised, standing up and slipping your wallet and phone into your handbag. he waved you off, "no need, i'll be fine."

you sighed. he'd always been the one to pay you visits when you needed them the most, though. 

[6 april 2018; 8 months before.]

you ran your hand through your hair again, gently massaging your scalp in attempt to relieve the gnawing headache that had been plaguing you for the past two hours. finals season was absolutely brutal, and you couldn't tell how long you'd been studying but you were far from sanity and could barely digest any more information. 

a knock on your door pulled you from your desk, and you nearly melted with relief when you saw a smiling minghao holding a takeaway tupperware of noodles and a box of fruits for you. "i heard someone was being killed by the exam monster," 

he'd calmed you down that night, making sure you finished all your food and rubbing your shoulders with traditional medicated oils to relieve the tension in your head and neck. the next day, you'd done the exam with a clear head and passed with flying colours. 

you couldn't do the same for minghao now, but the least you could do was pay him a visit like you knew he would have done for you. even if it was after a date. 

putting his book down, he gave you the same stern look as he had earlier. "baobei, you know you can let me go right? you don't have to keep holding on like this. you're strong, i know you can. maybe you'll be happier when you do,"

"no. i don't want to," you retorted quickly, snapping a little. he did nothing but sigh in response. "then i guess you're going to be late for your date,"

you looked over to the clock and nodded, slinging your handbag over your shoulder and looking at him expectantly. "well? you're coming too, right?" 

he sighed again, but rose from the couch anyway and slipped on his pair of dance shoes you kept in the shoe cabinet next to the door. you walked out of your apartment together, taking the elevator down and walking out onto the almost-empty street of your campus- it was the new year season and everyone had gone home to their families, but you were a foreign student and wonwoo lived too far away from campus to go home. 

"i hope wonwoo's nice.. from what interaction we've had he seems pretty chill," you chimed, trying to break the tension that was growing between minghao and you. 

"i think he'll be great," minghao replied quickly, "and i'm sure the two of you will make a great couple, i know he'll make you happy," 

you pulled a smile onto your face, but it was far from genuine. minghao could tell. of course he could tell, he'd been with you for years. but as much as he knew you didn't want to be on this date, he knew it'd be good for you to try some chance at love again. 

the two of you finally arrived in front of the small café you'd agreed to meet wonwoo at, but instead of going in you stopped at the entrance hesitantly. "hao? i can't go, i just can't."

"y/n, this is for the best okay? you like wonwoo, from what you said i know he likes you too," minghao sighed, "this is why i shouldn't have come, how many times do i have to tell you to let go?" 

"i know, but i just-" you say desperately, but you don't know what to say anymore. you know he's right, you know everyone is right by telling you to move on. 

"i can't keep being here for you, baobei,"

"i love you minghao,"

silence. another deep sigh. 

"i know you do," 

a pause. silence. more tension. and then, finally, "y/n, i need to go,"

you panicked immediately, head shooting up in shock as you begged him to stay. "what? no, no no no, minghao you can't go anywhere, you have to stay here with me, you have to stay with me," 

you reached for his wrist but he was too fast for you, pulling away before your fingers could touch his skin.

"minghao you can't leave me, please,"

"i have to go,"

"you can't, i need you!" 

but he didn't reply. there were tears in your eyes, tears that were hot with anger and pain and grief and guilt all at the same time. tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he didn't reply even then, only walking further away from you. 

"minghao, please. minghao you cant leave me again!" you said helplessly, your voice raised, drawing attention to yourself. you felt the concerned gazes of passers-by on you as you panickedly looked around for minghao's tall figure, but he was nowhere to be seen. he was gone. 

"hao, i can't do this without you," you whispered helplessly to the air. "i need you to be in my infinity," 

"you can. you can and you will. you're everything anyone could ever want,, y/n you're perfect," you hear minghao's soft voice echo in your head. you freeze, letting a single tear fall and trickle down your cheek. "you're perfect no matter what," 

you shook your head again, denying it. "i can't let you go, i can't,"

but then you could've sworn you felt his hand in yours, warm and full of life again. the same hand you'd held through thick and thin that had grown colder and paler but was now back to the state it had been in when you'd first met. the hand that had kept you strong for years. 

"you can. and you will be happy for years and years to come and then we will meet again. i promise," you rubbed the tear from your cheek, listening to his voice for the last time in your head. you knew he was right, you knew he was right just like all of your friends. you'd spent months avoiding people because you'd thought that you had all you needed at home, that the memory of a love you'd lost was always going to be enough for you. but he was gone, he'd become a star in your night sky and it finally became real to you that he wasn't there anymore, and it was high time that you move forward with your life. 

you could see his smile in your head, the smile you'd woken up to on countless mornings and fallen asleep to on countless nights. you thought you'd be lost without him, to guide you, relying on a memory to get you through the pain. but as you looked through the window of the café and saw wonwoo smiling at you, sitting at a table for two with two cups of iced coffee in front of him, you knew it was okay. 

minghao wasn't here anymore. but it was okay. 

"i'll see you soon, hao-hao," you whispered with finality as you walked into the café and waved at wonwoo. xu minghao had been the best thing that had ever happened to you. and you knew it would take a while, but for him, you had to try to learn to be happy with someone else. 

so you take your seat from across wonwoo, and smile brightly at him. "hey, wonwoo, sorry to keep you waiting so long,"

"no, it's fine, i heard from soonyoung that today's actually a difficult day for you,, not a very first date question but it's your ex-boyfriend's birthday isn't it? the one you come to support group for,"

"it is, but i figured he'd want me to have fun today instead of wasting it alone at home feeling sad," you pause for a second, "he passed away a year ago, actually. he, um, got sick when we were in our junior year of college together," 

wonwoo smiled and nodded at you, listening to what you had to say. "i'm glad you decided to finally take a chance, y/n," 

"yeah," you smiled back, sipping on your coffee with newfound lightness on your shoulders. "yeah, me too, wonwoo,"

#seventeen #xu minghao #the8 #the8 oneshot #seventeen oneshot #fluff #seventeen fanfic #xu minghao x reader #the8 x reader #college au #college sweetheart #seventeen fluff #minghao fluff

[whitetigerdemoness]

Welcome to the next chapter of Shooting Star. Character death warning. 

Masterpost

Blue supergiants are the hottest stars in the universe, some exceeding 20,000 Kelvin. Our sun is only approximately 6,000 kelvin. 

To say that his nerves were going haywire would be an understatement. Marc felt like he had spent the entire day half a breath away from a panic attack. Then he had one at the worst possible time. After the intense stress of giving testimony in court in front of dozens of cameras, the accusing, disgusted stares of the crowd as Nathaniel held his hand were too much. The two had left as soon as they were allowed to without even hearing the verdict. Bless his sweet boyfriend for supporting him through this. He knew Nathaniel had to be just as nerve wracked as he was, but the other boy somehow managed to keep a level head during this whole mess.

Then the akuma attacked.

Marc felt like someone had dropped a ten ton stone on his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He felt like his entire world narrowed to focus on the brightly colored akuma. Her greens were vibrant, blues dripping with malice, her orange...Volpina. In that instant, Marc was back in that condemned apartment all alone, fighting for his life against a snarling monster wearing a fox’s skin. Vaguely, as if from far away, he felt Nathaniel trying to pull him along. Trying to shield him when the akuma came after them. Felt his arms wrap around him as vines encased them both. 

Darkness engulfed him as the plants took root in his skin, stealing his sight. Hot tears of regret rolled down his face as Marc thought about how Nathaniel could have gotten away if the other boy had just left him. Inwardly Marc knew that the red head would never do that. Even in the darkness, consciousness slipping away, he could feel Nathaniel’s arms around him. Warm and safe. His brave knight…

“My Treasure. Don’t cry, I’ve got you now.” A familiar voice whispered softly in his ear. One he hadn’t heard except in his dreams for so long now. Something was gently stroking his face as his vision came back. Purple, red, and ocean blue sharpened into focus.

“Penknight?” Marc breathed, not believing what he was seeing. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, I’m really here.” The akuma chuckled. “You see me in your dreams?” He smiled. Marc’s heart sank and grew at the same time. It was a weird feeling.

“Oh no, how did you get akumatized?” Marc asked, reaching a hand up to gently cup Penknight’s face from where he was laying in his arms. Penknight nuzzled his palm with a kiss and sighed.

“Nathaniel didn’t get akumatized.” Marc blinked as Penknight helped him sit up. Looking around he saw Paon crouched near them, helping Nathaniel to his feet. The red head looked just as confused as he felt. 

“He’s a Sentimonster I made. Ladybug and Chatnoir went to recharge their Miraculous, but they will be back. He refused to leave you.” Paon looked troubled. “He’s so...human like.” She said to herself. 

“Well, other than being purple.” A girl Marc didn’t know chuckled nervously. “Are...are you okay? I’m… I’m sorry about what I put you through…” The brunette looked down, shame faced. Her work-worn hands twisted nervously in her overalls. A lightbulb went off in Marc’s head. 

“You were the akuma.” 

“I...yes. I’m sorry…” She whispered.

“Don’t be. Happens to the best of us.” Nathaniel told her, giving Penknight an uncertain glance before laying a hand on Marc’s free arm. Other people in the street looked on curiously as they recovered from their post-miraculous cure daze. 

“HOW did it even happen though? I thought Hawkmoth was gone forever, but today when those nasty neighborhood boys smashed my grandmother’s potted roses I heard her and-” The girl rambled, looking stressed.

“Did I hear you say her?” Ladybug asked as she swung down next to them from the rooftop, Chatnoir right behind her.

“Ladybug!” The girl exclaimed. “Yes! I know Hawkmoth was a man, but this was definitely a woman’s voice.” 

“A woman?” Chatnoir pondered, exchanging a meaningful glance with Ladybug and Paon.

“No, it can’t be her. We checked! Several times…” Ladybug hissed, running her hands through her hair. Marc wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but with Penknight on one side and Nathaniel on the other (eyeing each other like two stray dogs meeting for the first time trying to decide if one was friend or foe) the green eyed boy had some questions for the heroine that couldn’t wait.

“Ladybug-” He began.

“Ladybug.”

Suddenly, holographic screens fizzled into existence in various places along the street, and in the distance. Featured on them was a bust shot of a woman in a flowing purple gown, a butterfly themed masquerade mask adoring her face. Silver hair spilled like a mountain brook made of starlight down her shoulders. Shimmering trails that almost looked like tears ran from under her mask, but her face was calm.

“Having lost contact with Gardener, I can only assume she has been struck down by you. My thanks go out to her for her service. She served her purpose as a distraction. This means that you, Ladybug and Chatnoir, will be on the streets of Paris to witness this broadcast. Paris, I...am Hawkmoth.” The street was deadly quiet as the woman made her address. All eyes were glued to the screen, waiting with bated breath for the ethereal woman’s next words.  

“I am told combining the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous will grant a wish, any wish, to the one who does so. I have a wish, Ladybug. A very dear one. You took EVERYTHING from me, and until I get it back, I will take everything from you.” The woman stepped aside to reveal Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancouer kneeling, chained, in their prison uniforms. Marc heard Paon and Chatnoir both hiss with surprise. They were not the only ones. The street broke out into hesitant whispers. 

“You will not get away with this.” Gabriel glared at the new Hawkmoth. “Ladybug stopped me, and she will stop you.” Hawkmoth did not reply. She only raised her cane staff, and pulled at the top to reveal the sword hidden inside. Her face impassive, she swung the sword in one swift, clean arc. Gabriel and Nathalie’s heads fell out of frame onto the floor, their bodies following soon after. Paon screamed and fell to her knees, Chatnoir trying to support her, face white as a sheet and trembling. Ladybug didn’t look much better. Hawkmoth faced the camera one last time.

“Everything.”

The screen went dark.

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

The street erupted in chaos as the screens blinked out of existence, people screaming and clamoring to the backdrop of Paon’s broken sobbing. Nathaniel’s heart went out to Mrs. Agreste. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how she must be feeling right now. Almost unconsciously, he went to put his arm around Marc’s shoulders, only to find Penknight’s arm already there. Nathaniel blinked at him. Penknighted slowly blinked back, as if in challenge. Nathaniel felt the hair on the back of his neck rise with some emotion he couldn’t quite pin down. When Marc leaned into Penknight’s chest and the akuma (sentimonster, Nathaniel reminded himself) smirked smugly at the other red head, that vague feeling solidified into a territorial surge. Ladybug frantically breathing into her hands out of the corner of his eye in an attempt to calm down reminded him that maybe right now was not the best time to be fighting over his lover with what was essentially himself. 

“We need to get them off the street.” He said to Penknight. The sentimonster narrowed his eyes slightly, but Nathaniel raised his eyebrows meaningfully and the knight sighed. 

“...Come on.” He grumbled, gently removing his arms from Marc to pick up the sobbing Paon. He kicked Chat Noir’s foot with his own. “You too, Catnerd. Grab your Lady and let’s get out of public.” Ashen, as though in shock, Chatnoir nodded woodenly and took Ladybug by the arm. 

“You know where to go.” Penknight told Marc and Nathaniel before jumping to the rooftops with Ladybug and Chatnoir. Nathaniel took Marc’s hand in his, silent for a moment, before saying;

“I actually have no idea where to go.” 

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

The moment the broadcast, seen all over Paris, ended Chloe Bourgeois was already halfway to the valet lot screaming into her phone for her driver to bring the car around NOW. Fifteen minutes later she was throwing open the doors to the Agreste mansion to find Adrien and Marinette seated on the couch in the foyer, their kwami hovering around them. Marinette was stroking the blonde’s hair as he stared off into space.

“Adrikins.” Chloe murmured, heart wrenching for her oldest friend. Marinette glanced up at her with hollow eyes, but didn’t stop her approach. Sitting on Adrien’s other side, she gently lay a hand on his back. This seemed to startle him out of his trance. 

“Chloe?” Adrien asked, voice raspy. 

“I came as soon as I saw.” Chloe squeezed his hand when he half lifted it in her direction. 

“You saw?” Marinette asked.

“I’m pretty sure all of Paris did. Those screens were everywhere.” Which likely meant an akuma was on the loose somewhere.

“ He’s gone.” Adrien said numbly, staring not at Chloe but through her. “He’s- I mean, he’s been gone for months, but that was just away. This is gone.” The blonde girl was starting to get worried about his mental state.

“The miraculous cure?” She asked Marinette. The other girl closed her eyes, tears slipping out. “I tried. This...incident...wasn’t akuma damage. We haven’t heard from the prison, but I don’t think it worked. The Ladybugs didn’t go anywhere when I cast it.” The half chinese girl said, trying to keep her breathing even. Chloe closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself. 

“Emilie?” She asked.

“Sleeping it off. Dusu and Samson are watching over her.” Chloe did a double take. Coming down the stairs was the fashion challenged akuma that Kurtzberg turned into. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She eloquently questioned. 

“What the fuck are YOU doing here?” The maybe akuma sniped back, before dismissing her with an impatient look at the doors. “Where are they?” he grumbled to himself.

“You-” Chloe started, before Marinette cut her off.

“Penknight is...complicated to explain. As usual.” She sighed to herself. “Right now we need to focus on Adrien and Emilie.” 

“Yeah. Kitten could probably use a nap himself right about now. He’s...not processing this well.” Plagg said in a concerned voice from where he was laying on Adrien’s head, stroking his hair. A pang of longing flashed through Chloe as she thought of Pollen before she squashed it down. Her friend needed her right now. 

“Let’s get him into bed then.” She said, helping Marinette guide Adrien to his feet. The boy was still staring into the distance like a zombie, occasionally mumbling to himself too low for Chloe to understand. 

“Great. You guys do that. I’m going back to Marc, since that other idiot obviously can’t handle the simple task of bringing him to me.” Penknight grumbled, heading for the doors. 

“Penknight.” Marinette said sharply in what Chloe liked to think of as her Ladybug voice. “You need to stay here until we figure out what is going on.” The akuma paused long enough to give her a sneer.

“I don’t take orders from you.” He said, before purposefully stomping out the front door. 

“Oh my god that…” Marinette gave a frustrated hiss. “I do NOT have time to babysit him right now!” She growled.

“Penknight is a wild card Marinette. We can’t just let him wander around by himself.” Tiki said, glancing with a worried look between Adrien and the door Penknight had left through. Chloe sighed.

“Go after him Marinette. Plagg and I will take care of Adrien. He’ll understand why you had to leave. Maybe call that walking second hand store the two of you are dating if you’re worried about him.” Chloe tried to keep her voice light and airy to reassure Marinette, who had become a surprisingly good friend over the months since Hawkmoth’s defeat, but she could tell the other girl was seeing right through her. Marinette closed her eyes for a moment to gather strength before passing a comatose Adrien off to her. 

“If ANYTHING happens Plagg, tell her where the miracle box is. I know there’s at least one more akuma still out there.” Marinette instructed him. 

“You got it baby bug. Really hope there isn’t though.” 

“Me either Plagg. Me either.” 

.

.

.

.

This is the look Penknight gives Nathaniel when Marc chooses him to hug:

#miraculous ladybug #Holloa #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #marinette dupain cheng

[edorazzi]

Well, here we are again! Twitter said yes to a review post for a Miraculous magazine that suddenly showed up in my local area. ‘Tis the season after all, and by that I mean someone bought it for me as a joke birthday gift and I was way too happy about that.

I’ve done previous reviews of the Miraculous Christmas calendar, Easter egg set, superhero fashion dolls and action figures, so let’s dive into the unknown world of merchandising yet again!

(As always, if you enjoy my posts, please consider checking out my Twitter page or supporting me on Patreon for lots of bonus content!)

4 FREE GIFTS! PACKED WITH ACTIVITIES! MEET THE KWAMIS! PRANKS & LOLS! CUT-OUT MEMES! FANGIRL ALERT! NAIL ART! 100% OFFICIAL! I’m overwhelmed! It feels like I’m having a seizure just from the packaging!!! 

I should preface this by saying I haven’t bought a magazine like this in years. Possibly ever. I read things like the Beano, Animals & You and the odd Disney Princess zine when I was a kid but I have no idea what to expect from a free-gift-packed kiddie magazine in 2019. If the outside is anything to go by we’re in for a wild ride.

I’m noticing that it says “Miraculous #20″ on the back. Does this mean I’ve missed 19 previous issues? I’m genuinely a little upset by that. My local area is a complete dry zone for Miraculous so I haven’t had the chance to pick these up.

First step: let’s separate everything out and get a look at these freeeee giftssss. Except they aren’t free, because this magazine was like £3.99. This does seem to be the current trend - it’s kinda rare to see any kids’ zines without the excess packaging crammed with ‘free’ stuff. Is it really too expensive to just produce the magazine? Probably, in this economy.

Chat Noir is revealed on the cover! He was on the back of the plastic jacket, but it’s still nice to see the kids as a front-cover duo. Apparently we’re going to learn to draw Pollen, too, which sounds fun. I’m actually liking the look of the gifts as well, but we’ll get into those in a minute.

This hairbrush............. is adorable. Oh my god. It’s pretty cheap and flimsy but it functions the way it’s supposed to, and the Ladybug design has been taken into account in a better way than “it’s red/black, that counts” (lest we forget the UTTER BULLSHIT of the Christmas calendar, and YES I’m still mad about that). I don’t know how well I expect the outer sticker to last, but if it can take a bit of wear and tear this would be an adorable little travel brush. Nicely done, lads!

These nail stickers? Also adorable. They remind me of the kiddie makeup sets I had when I was little, back in the early 00s when plastic stick-on nails and decals were all the rage. Are they still a thing? That’s nice to know.

There are 13 designs (that I can count) - a Queen Bee mask, Chat Noir pawprint cake, macaron, cupcake, heart-print cookie, Ladybug stud, flower, lightning bolt, love heart, Marinette heart, bee, fox tail and star. The majority are directly related to the show and that makes them feel special. No Carapace though? :(

I’ve put a little Marinette heart on my furthest finger. At the time of typing this up (about a day later) it’s still firmly in place. I haven’t really knocked it around, granted, but it’s not flimsy enough to fall off after five minutes either. It’s also really cute to look at. Guess I’m still a decal-loving 2004 girl at heart......

These stickers though!!! Wow! They’re those holographic and slightly-puffy kind and they feel like pretty good quality, and the designs are so cute! I can’t fault these, they’re absolutely adorable. I immediately want to stick them everywhere.

So I’ve stuck them everywhere. I’m especially proud of the light switch pun. My room looks GREAT.

I saved these “mystery stickers” for last because I’m weak for the thrill of mystery bags, and there wasn’t anything on the packaging to indicate what kind of designs to expect. And OH!!!! OH, IT’S MY BOY!!!! Look at him!!!! 

I made jokes with the Christmas calendar about all the Chat Noir items being stolen ahead of time, but that’s definitely NOT the case with this magazine. I have been SPOILED with the presence of my cat son.

These stickers are similar to the sticker sheet (and the Chillin’ Out design is reprinted), but they’re puffier and non-holographic. I’m deeply allured by the “decorate your phone or tablet” suggestion on the packet, but I’m going to see how the previous stickers withstand the wear-and-tear of my laptop lid before adding any more. If I damage these beautiful Adrien stickers I’ll be devastated.

Those are our free gifts! They’re actually very fun and cute, I’m really happy with them! I guess now it’s time to get into the magazine itself...........

I genuinely almost forgot the magazine was the main part of this package. I figured I was done, but we’ve barely even started! Here’s a splash page of the kwami. Kwami with a capital K? Kwamis? I still feel like it should be singular-lower-case-k-kwami. I’ve never been happy about this “miraculouses” business either.

But is that--

It IS!!!! It’s Nino!!! 

I guess this is the new flavour of Miraculous tie-ins. Now they’ve broadened out to a full team we’re seeing a lot more of Adrien alongside the girls, and Nino is the elusive hero who shows up once in a blue moon. At least this time his name isn’t in the title of the gotdam show.......

Anyway, I can see I’m supposed to draw my “fave Kwami”. Better get to it.

Felix just wants a break. Just one break. But not in this magazine.

Speaking of seeing more of Adrien (and, tragically, less of Nino), this is the kind of splash page I want to see! Both kids are here! The banner themed with Marinette’s signature flowers is a nice touch too; that’s associated with her arts ‘n’ crafts in the show already and it makes sense to apply it to the creative portion of this magazine too.

I LOVE the promotion of Chat Noir nails as something the little girls buying this magazine will definitely want to try. I’d expect them to do Marinette vs Ladybug nails, but instead we get a boyish option! Hell yeah!

I’m a little confused by the Queen Bee masks apparently going on the Chat Noir nails though. I guess they’re friends? Is this secret AdriChlo confirmation? Watch out, Marinette, Kagami’s not the one to be worried about.

SURE WOULD BE NICE TO HAVE SOME TURTLE STICKERS FOR AN ALL-BOYS THEME BUT I GUESS NOT HUH

Next up is a short merch catalogue (why would you put the big bold arrow pointing right to the underoos.....). Would those Chat Noir socks come in my size? Asking for me.

Then there’s......... this page. FANGIRL ALERT. God. It’s like the Ladyblog, if only the Ladyblog ever gave a heck about reporting what Chat Noir’s up to.

THE SPELL WAS BROKEN AND THE FANDOM IMPLODED WITH JOY.

I really have to wonder what age range this is meant for. Do kids know what a “fandom” is? Do little girls consider themselves “fangirls”? I guess most kids have enough internet access to figure it out these days (all the hashtags and LOLs and memes speak volumes), but I can’t imagine being young enough to fit the target range of this magazine while also knowing these terms. I dunno.

(Also, the definition of ‘implosion’ is ‘an instance of something collapsing violently inwards’, so I’m not sure that’s the word they’re looking for. Unless the return to the status quo in Dark Cupid and the continuing stagnation of the love square was enough to make people quit in frustration? Probably.)

I’m filling it in, of course. Because I must.

I gave up on the pre-approved ratings system pretty much right away, but I think this is an accurate rating of my LadyNoir opinions. 

I might be kinda cynical about it here, but I am actually pretty fond of how this magazine sells Ladybug and Chat Noir as a couple. The show’s portraying it as very onesided lately, with Chat pining over Ladybug who has absolutely no interest in him (Glaciator was a TERRIBLE episode and I’m still hurting from it), but reading this zine I’d guess they were already dating. It’s cheesy, but in a nice way.

I have to laugh at “the most amazing thing about this super duo is that they always look out for and protect each other” though. Chat’s usually pretty focused on LB, sure, but there are endless instances of LB using Chat as cannon fodder and just generally abandoning him to get mauled by akuma while she carries out her personal private plan to save the day. Maybe we’re just focusing on the better-written episodes, huh?

Moving ahead. I’ve been dreading this page since reading “Plaggs Pranks & LOLs” on the back of the packaging. I feel hatred in my very bones just looking at it.

I like that there’s ONE instance of the term “ladybird” in the joke column. This is a UK-based magazine and that IS the word we tend to use over here - “ladybug” is an Americanism - but it’s like they’re worried kids could have got to the middle of this magazine about a superhero named Ladybug and then not understand the bug jokes. Maybe whoever was writing this page slipped up?

OH NOOOOO. MARINETTE, NOOOOOOOOOO.

THIS IS WHY FELIX GOT RID OF YOU, PLAGG. THESE ARE ADRIEN’S PROBLEMS NOW.

(mmm whatcha saaaaay)

I mean........... YEAH, I guess, but we absolutely did see Plagg destroy Felix with an entire shelf of heavy books. I guess he’s nicer with Adrien. It’s all fun and games until someone has a nervous breakdown in the library.

I do love the concept of Tikki getting glitter-bombed by Plagg through the mail. She just curiously opens up the little letter which got slipped into Marinette’s purse, and-- WOOSH. One entire wall of Mari’s room is glittery except for a little Tikki-shaped silhouette. 

Next up is a two-page comic which is absolutely adorable! Look at those little chibis! The warm and soft colour palette! This is nicer than most of the official Miraculous comic book art I’ve seen, I hope they keep giving this artist work.

Nino’s here too (and he looks great!), and I like the touch of Marinette and Adrien playing as each other’s superhero characters. Adrien even wins the match, though I guess there’s something to be said about Ladybug beating Chat Noir (again)...... 

It does raise the question yet again of where this tie-in merchandise is coming from! They’ve had action figures, a movie, music video features, now an arcade game... Who’s getting the royalties here? Who’s profiting? Is this how Fu can afford to buy all those rare ingredients for the magic potions?

Over the page we have an activity to Design your Secret Lair! Right away I love the Marinette theme of the page, the soft pink and flowers, and the drawing space looking like a page in a binder with marker tabs and everything.

I have to design my secret lair, of course: 

What do you think? I’m very creative. I’ll need an adult to send in the drawing of my hideout but I think I’ve really got a shot at those unicorn headphones.

Now we’re on to puzzles and character pages. I don’t know what ol’ Gabe is doing trying to meet a 13 year old girl in the dead of night without telling anyone, you’d think if he’s got that much free time on his hands he could be spending it with his son.

I don’t know how those points in Ladybug’s power profile are awarded or what they mean, but you can tell this is a fan magazine. Official sources would have put her at a 10.

Standard House of Villains page! Most of these were good episodes but I’m deeply offended Riposte isn’t on here. Maybe her motives weren’t dramatic and cartoonish enough to be up in the ranks with Glaciator and Gorizilla?

“Cat Noir’s dad is also the evil Hawk Moth”, huh? I mean that’s not WRONG, but is it really something to put in his power profile when Adrien doesn’t even know yet??? Feels like we’re kinda jumping the gun on the poor boy. What if he picks up this magazine?

Apparently he’s one point weaker than Ladybug (seriously???), two points faster, equally as agile, one point less skilled and two points less cool. Despite all those lesses he still comes out at an equal 9, which is a relief! These kids are a team, putting either of them below the other would have been a big no.

I did the colouring page too, naturally. Je suis un artiste.

Now we’ve got a page fresh from the Ladyblog, a Miraculous quiz! Not a lot of excitement, but it’s nice to see Alya getting her own section.

I like that the qualifications of “you could be Ladybug herself!” are knowing what city Marinette lives in and what school she goes to. Well done, Mari! You’re doing your best!!!

TEACHER I AM SO HUNGRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I gotta say, I’m not so sure about decorating donuts with fondant. I’ve never tried it so I could be wrong, but it feels like rolled icing instead of frosting(?) would be too heavy for an entire donut. The texture is totally different.

I mean I guess if you’re going to load your kids up on sugar you might as well go all the way. They’re going to look like they’ve eaten something horrible with all that black fondant, but they’ll have fun. Adrien would love these.

WHERE’S NINO. THIS IS JUST UNFAIR. You’ll have four out of five heroes, then a double of Marinette and Tikki? Maybe this just goes to show how little memorable dialogue Carapace has.

Though if “Spots On!” is Marinette’s dialogue and not Ladybug’s, why are the other transformation phrases attributed to Rena Rouge and Queen Bee instead of Alya and Chloé? Surely they could have picked something better for Marinette to justify having her on this list twice instead of Nino.

The next page brings us one of those flowchart quizzes! And ouch, yet again the absence of the other heroes is obvious. I can understand not including Chloé here since she’s technically not a “friendly” character yet, but no Nino? Alya and Marinette are close friends, but Adrien doesn’t really hang out with them without Nino around. Having the three of them together just seems strange.

I do like the little fashion page! They’re all cute and affordable and easy to find on the high street here. I’d love to see how other issues of this magazine are structured; is there a different fashion spot every time? Styles to channel each individual hero would be adorable.

Moving on to a tutorial for a Ladybug notebook! I would have made this, but I didn’t have the time nor a notebook to stick it to.

Between this and the donuts, it seems weird that these designs are based on, like... an actual beetle, eyes and antennae and all. Shouldn’t it be Ladybug’s symbol? These come across more like “fun animals” arts ‘n’ crafts instead of themed after Miraculous specifically. I think if I made this (or decorated the donuts) I’d miss out the head and match the spot pattern to Ladybug’s symbol. 

The hidden message design is adorable though. I can see this being a craft kids are super proud of.

Another activity page! I didn’t have a go at these but they’re pretty standard. It’s cute that the coded message designs are the same as the stickers and nail decals!

Also, apparently Ladybug’s ‘secret’ is “LB mask + heart + CN mask”, which was (somehow) stolen by Volpina. Is that the secret Hawk Moth was talking about earlier in the magazine? Is he blackmailing Ladybug with revealing she has a crush on Chat Noir? How did Volpina ‘steal’ this secret? Is LadyNoir finally reciprocated???? THIS IS A WHOLE EPISODE IN ITSELF, I NEED ANSWERS--

Next page we have an ad for another girly magazine (Quizzes! LOLs! Celebs! Cringes! Puzzles!). I think I’ll pass, no matter how appealing that giant microphone pen is. 

And a “Miraculous Identity” quiz! Tikki’s apparently super fickle with her wielders, three seasons of relentlessly praising Marinette and now she’s telling us we’re the Chosen Ones. You can’t fool me with those big ol’ eyes.

My inner superhero is Marvellous Fox, by the way. Though yet again I’m noticing we don’t have turtle options...................

And on the back cover... the memes. Oh, sweet lord, the memes. They’re hashtag-SoRelatable! And I can cut them out to keep! Oh boy!!!

Is this what kids do when they have limited internet access? Cut fresh memes out of magazines and carry them around? I need to know.

That’s a very sinister Ladybug at the bottom of the page though. What’s-- What’s she going to do to me if I don’t cut out and keep these memes. Ladybug what are you going to do if I d--

Well that brings us to the end of the magazine! And yet again I’m surprised by how much time it takes to just put a bunch of photos together and write about them.

This is a neat little magazine all in all! The ‘free gifts’ are pretty nice, there’s a fair amount of content and the whole thing is pretty cute for young fans of the show. I could see myself buying this again - if it ever shows up on shelves, Miraculous is so scarce around here that I fully expect it to disappear again after this one issue - just for the free junk, but it would be interesting to see how they’d structure different issues too!

I notice we never did get that promised tutorial on how to draw Pollen; the one advertised on the cover. Was the “draw your favourite Kwami” activity supposed to cover that? I’m not sure that really counts.

If you got this far, thanks for joining me on this Miraculous journey! We’ll meet again whenever I get another piece of weird ML merch to cover. Bien joué!

#miraculous ladybug #josie talks about things #josie's art #i really should get a review tag #ANYWAY there's a bit more art in this which isn't just the header image so give it a look! #and felix features a couple of times because WHY would he not on edorazzi dot com

[moxiety-my-love]

Secret Santa

Moxiety Fic

Summary: The sides are playing secret Santa at Christmas, and Virgil wants to show Patton how much he cares for him with his gift.

Word Count: 2683

Pairing(s): Romantic Moxiety. Implied Loceit.

Warning(s): Kissing, mention of deceit, food mention. Let me know if you find more!

Current Tag List: @rebeyerfdog @hogwarts-my-love

~~

Patton always woke up as giddy as a child on Christmas morning. He raced to his stocking below the fireplace at the crack of dawn to view the contents, and begged his friends to come open the bearings they’d left each other beneath the tree. His energy was far too much for Virgil to match, but he grudgingly followed his adorable friend down the stairs, anxious to see the results of the group’s traditional secret santa game. Virgil had gotten Patton this year, and was nervous as to whether he had done a good job choosing a gift. Even though his morality was often exhausting, Patton was a sweet friend, and Virgil wanted nothing but the best for him.

By the time the group was settled around the tree, all clothed in holiday themed pajamas, Patton was nearly bursting from excitement. Logan sat in his favourite chair, calmly sipping a mug of cocoa.

“I know I normally don’t stray from my beloved tea,” Logan observed his actions. But this chocolate drink is rather satisfactory. Would anyone else care for a seasonal beverage?”

“Yes, I would love an eggnog with a sprinkle of—” Roman began to speak, but was abruptly halted by Patton.

“Roman, you can have your eggnog later!” the childish side interrupted. “Right now, it’s present time!” He raced to the tree and distributed each side’s gift. Virgil smirked, always loving the lively antics of Patton. He felt his face flush pink at the touch of Patton’s hand, as he gave the ever anxious side his gift. It was wrapped very pristinely in a modest green and red plaid wrapping paper, his name printed plainly in a corner. Virgil could only guess such a perfect present could be from Logan.

“Okay, who’s going first?” Patton asked, settling onto a chair and engulfing himself in a woolen blanket.

“I shall go first, as the prince is always first for everything!” Roman announced, starting to unwrap his gift. Logan rolled his eyes at this comment.

“Ooh, goody!” Patton grew more excited as the game had begun. Virgil pulled the hood of his maroon sweatshirt, adorned with a sinister black snowflake, over his head. Normally he would hate an article of clothing this colour, but Patton had insisted everyone get with the Christmas spirit. As Christmas is usually associated with bright reds and obnoxious greens, Virgil had opted for a darker, subtler shade of red that was enough to appease Patton, and included an accent of black.

“I’m loving this choice of wrapping,” Roman marveled. “My secret santa certainly has good taste.” He untied and removed the large golden bow that had been placed on top, and proceeded to remove the shining crimson wrapping paper, revealing a box. He tore it open immediately, eager to unveil what was inside.

Patton leaned forward, practically on the edge of his seat with anticipation. He shot a glance over at Virgil and winked, hinting that he had been the gift giver of their royal friend. Virgil hid a smile. How typical of Patton to be so thoughtful with the presentation and appearance of the gift.

Roman held up his awaited item, a mug featuring his face and the words ‘#1 Prince.’ “My word, it’s absolutely glorious. Such beauty, such grace!”

Patton burst in giggles, unable to contain himself. “It was me Roman! I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? I adore it! It shall have a place of honor in the cabinet amongst the other mugs.”

Patton blushed at his compliment. “Aw, thanks, Roman. So who’s next?”

Logan volunteered himself. “I will, if none of you mind. I’m quite apprehensive of what might be within this package, considering the atrocity of this wrapping job.” His present was wrapped with a red and white candy cane style paper, and topped with around thirty different gold and silver bows.

“Don’t be a negative Nancy. You’re a negative Logan!” Patton laughed at his joke, unjoined by the others.

“Yes, well, here goes nothing.” Logan didn’t bother taking off each individual bow, and instead tore off each piece of tape one at a time. He carefully unfolded the paper from the package, and refolded it into a perfect square and set it beside him. Virgil snorted, entertained by the logical side’s precision.

Logan held up his gift, revealing it to be a book titled Modern Slang for the Uninformed. “While I do not appreciate being considered ‘uninformed’,” Logan stated, “I do appreciate the gesture of updating me on society’s mildly interesting vocab. Who was my secret santa?”

Roman gallantly raised his hand and presented himself. (As gallantly as one can while wearing a set of red and gold frilly pajamas.) “Twas, I Logan. Your valiant Prince Roman.”

Eyebrows raised, Logan made a sound of surprise. “Really, Roman? You? I wouldn’t have thought you knew me well enough to make a well-informed decision such as the one you did.”

“Roman can be full of surprises. So Virgil, do you wanna go next?” Patton looked at Virgil, his eyes beaming with excitement. The negative side couldn’t say no to those eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll go.” Virgil took his hood down from his head and carefully tore open the package. He was curious to find out what Logan had gotten him, he always chose interesting gifts. The year before, he had gotten Patton a cat collar that Patton proudly wore as a choker necklace and claimed was “high fashion.” The year prior to that he had Roman and gave him a book of piano sheet music of Disney songs. Roman didn’t play piano, but he appreciated the gesture and had it framed over his bed. Virgil could only wonder what the logical side had chosen for him.

After tearing off the wrapping paper, Virgil opened the box inside to find a rolled up poster depicting classic Disney villains such as Jafar, Lady Tremaine, Cruella de Vil, Maleficent, and Ursula, in a purple and black theme. Across the center of it were the words ‘Everlastingly Evil.’ Virgil was happy his intellectual friend had known him well enough to choose a gift like this. He thought he might hang it over the chair in his room with his other posters.

“It’s from me, Virgil,” Logan said as he raised his hand. “I know that Disney is a fandom in which Roman normally takes interest in,” he shot a glance towards their princely friend, who looked mildly offended. “But I remember you telling me once that you often identified with villainous characters, and I thought this was rather fitting. Is it satisfactory?”

Virgil gave Logan a smile, something that was rare from him. “It’s great Logan, thanks. I’ll hang it up later.” He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt back up to his head and reminded Patton it was his turn to open his gift. “You’re the last one, Patton.”

Patton clapped his hands together in excitement. “Yay, that means that you were my secret santa, Virgil! What’d you get me?”

With a look of sarcasm Virgil said, “Well, I guess you’ll have to open it to find out. That is how this game is played to my understanding.”

Patton giggled in delight as he opened the gift in front of him. Virgil had wrapped it in a modest black wrapping paper with a pattern of silver snowflakes. He hoped Patton would like it, regardless of its simplicity. He was even more nervous, however, as to whether or not Patton would like the gift inside the wrapping paper.

Virgil drew in a sharp breath as Patton removed the decorative paper to reveal his gift. For a moment Patton stared down at the package and drew an inward gasp, and Virgil was scared he had made a mistake. But then the stare formed into a look of adoration and his lips curled into a smile, and Virgil felt a wave of relief.

“What is it, Patton?” Roman asked.

Logan nodded in agreement and said, “Yes, do tell.”

Patton held up a scrapbook that across the cover said ‘Memories.’ It was a light cerulean color covered in pale yellow stars. Below the title, Virgil had placed a photo of him and Patton that had been taken the day they first met, a tradition Patton held with every new friend he made. Patton flipped through the book, looking at all the pictures and memories Virgil had pasted inside. Photos Virgil had unwillingly been in with a frown, Patton always smiling and hugging whomever was near him when posing.

“You like it?” Virgil bashfully looked at his feet. He knew he normally wouldn’t allow his name to be attached to something so sentimental, but had tried his best.

Patton walked across the room to where Virgil sat. “I love it. Thank you, Virge,” Patton told his friend as he enveloped him in a hug. Virgil hesitated as a wave of anxiety washed over him. It wasn’t often that he allowed physical contact between himself and another person. But he felt the warmth of Patton’s arms around him, and the beating of his heart against his own, and pushed his anxiety away and returned the hug. His arms wrapped around Patton and he whispered a response, “You’re welcome, Pat.”

After secret santa, Logan organised a clean-up that was mandatory they all participate in. They spent the day cleaning the house and preparing for the guests they were having over for Christmas dinner. Virgil desperately wanted a minute alone with Patton, but couldn’t find one due to the methodical cleaning they were forced to partake in. Every time he managed to have a second away from scrubbing windows or dusting furniture, Logan appeared with another task for him. Virgil finally gave up and decided he’d try to talk to Patton later that night.

Around 5:30 that evening, guests started to show up. The first to arrive was Deceit. Virgil hadn’t been informed that the scheming dark side had been invited, and slammed the door in his face two seconds after he opened the door.

“Virgil, what were you thinking?” Logan’s voice was incredulous. “He is our guest, and you just kicked him out like that!” Logan walked over to the door to let Deceit in.

“You failed to mention he was invited in the first place, what were you expecting me to do?” Virgil didn’t understand what he had done wrong. Anyone in their right mind would have thrown that lying, disgusting Deceit out of their home. Other than the issue of Logan inviting Deceit to the gathering, the rest of the night proceeded well enough that Virgil didn’t feel as overwhelmed as normal. He found it comforting to be around friends, even though he was still dying to speak with Patton.

Their other friends who joined them included Thomas, Joan, Valerie, and Talyn. Virgil never liked to admit feelings of general positivity, but he rather enjoyed having Thomas around. He was very likeable, and Virgil found that they were able to relate well. After dinner had ended and everyone was seated in the living room, Virgil dismissed himself to the kitchen. He wasn’t feeling bad, but just felt like he needed some distance from everyone. They all understood and respected his decision to do so.

“Hey, mind if I join you?”

Virgil had been sitting on the kitchen counter for a minute or two when he noticed Thomas had appeared. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said as he took a seat next to Virgil. Thomas looked him in the eyes with a smile, one that he didn’t return. “Is everything alright, Virge?”

Vigil shrugged. “I dunno, it’s nothing.”

“It can’t be nothing if it’s got you saying it’s nothing. What’s up?”

With a sigh, Virgil began to spill what was on his mind. “There’s this guy. He’s really sweet, and he makes me feel… I dunno, different than my normally anxious state. He eases that, which is soothing, I guess.”

Thomas nodded, listening to every word. “Does he know you feel this way?”

“No.”

“Do you think he feels the same?”

“I have no idea,” Virgil sighed. “Sometimes I think he might, but I never have the chance to ask.”

Thomas looked Virgil in his eyes, speaking only his truth. “Then ask him. There’s no other way to know.”

Virgil nodded. He knew Thomas was right. He knew he had to talk to Patton. He just didn’t know how, and was far too afraid to try.

After all their friends had left, the sides found themselves seated again in their living room, each drinking their beverage of choice late into the night. Roman was nearly asleep in his chair, worn out from the day’s events.

“I should be heading to bed precisely now. We’ve still got planning to do for our New Years events and should begin that tomorrow.” Logan excused himself and wished the others a merry Christmas.

Patton stood up and walked over to Roman. “As the parental figure, I should help Princey here get to bed. Come on, Roman.” Patton helped him to stand up and led him to his room, telling the others good night as he left, and leaving Virgil alone with his thoughts.

Virgil sat quietly in the dark, sipping the last of his coffee. He was the only side who drank his coffee plain without any cream or sugar. He liked it black, like his soul. He knew it was a cliche, but he prided himself in the fact that he didn’t drink it with three sugars and a pile of whipped cream like Roman did.

“Hey there, kiddo.”

Virgil looked up to see that Patton had re-entered the room. “Oh, hey Patton.”

“You sound disappointed to see me. Is everything alright?” Patton gave Virgil a smile, and Virgil felt a rush of heat flow to his face. He was thankful the room was fairly dark.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just tired.” Virgil shrugged. He knew this was the perfect moment to spill everything that had been in his mind to Patton, but he just couldn’t form the words. He hated himself for being this way.

“I wanted to say thank you again, for the scrapbook. You must’ve spent a lot of time on it.” Patton reached out a hand to Virgil’s, who flinched at the touch. He relaxed, however, as Patton began drawing circles into his palm.

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Virgil was thankful Patton was such a sweet soul, being as calm and soothing as he was. He no longer felt the need to rush things.

“You know, there’s one memory that wasn’t in there I think we should include.” Patton averted his gaze from their hands and looked up into Virgil’s eyes.

Virgil swallowed, finding it difficult to form a response. “What memory would that be?” he asked.

Patton reached for both of Virgil’s shaking hands, calming all of his nerves. He took the nervous side’s hands and placed them on his own waist, drawing the two of them closer. Virgil’s mind grew hazy and his breath shortened, but in his heart he knew this was right.

“This memory,” Patton said, right before leaning in towards Virgil and closing the gap between them with his lips.

Virgil could have sworn he felt his heart stop before he melted into the kiss. He moved his lips softly against Patton’s, his mind swirling with madness. Patton moved his hands up into Virgil’s dark purple hair as the kiss intensified. Virgil never wanted the moment to end.

Patton eventually pulled away, his mouth lingering barely above Virgil’s as he smiled a lopsided grin. Virgil looked up at Patton through his eyelashes and whispered, “I’m not sure we can paste that memory in the scrapbook.”

Patton chuckled, and tackled Virgil with a hug. “We’ll just have to paste it in our minds, then.”

Virgil moved into a horizontal position and allowed Patton to lay on him, his soft head resting on Virgil’s chest. Virgil pet Patton’s hair and let his hand rest there as he felt his eyes fluttering shut. “Merry Christmas, Patton.”

“Merry Christmas, my secret Santa.”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #moxiety #moxiety fic #fanfiction #sanders sides fic #deceit sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #tw deceit #tw kissing #tw food mention #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfiction #ts fanfic #ts fic #my writing

[hookedontaronfics]

First Contact series Part 1

Title: First Contact - Part 1 Rating: T Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: None A/N: A fluffy first meeting between Taron and a fan and her friends. Just some cute, sweet Taron. I hope to turn this into an eventual series, where the main character runs into Taron more often and a relationship develops over time. Will eventually involve more mature themes! I hope you enjoy! x

The first time I met Taron Egerton, it was raining. Storming, really, the rain coming down in heavy sheets as my friends and I ducked into a nearby Tesco. We were giggling and breathless after the mad dash for cover, the first crack of thunder announcing the sudden storm.

There we stood, between the bags of crisps and racks of tabloids, wringing out our hair and rather making a mess of the floor.

“I am absolutely soaked,” Jules laughed, waving her arms wildly and sending a spray of droplets our way.

“Jesus, you’re going to get us kicked out of here!” I laughed, grabbing her arm and pulling her down an aisle, our friend and roomie Mary following along behind us, our sneakers squeaking against the tile floor. Thankfully, none of the clerks seemed to give us a second look as we found ourselves aimlessly wandering and trying to unstick our wet clothes from our skin.

“I knew we should have brought umbrellas!” Mary grumbled playfully in her German accent. She had just moved to London recently, and become the perfect third roommate for Jules and me.

“Alright, you were right!” I laughed. “Again!” I smirked, tossing a bag of crisps at her, which she caught easily before placing it back on the shelf.

“Well, should we get anything while we’re here?” Jules asked.

“Brown sauce. I just finished the last of it,” I laughed.

“God, you’re obsessed,” Jules said, tugging on my arm toward the condiment aisle.

“You don’t understand! We don’t have it where I’m from! I had to order it from Amazon!” I laugh, all three of us wiping tears out of our eyes as we laughed over that.

“My poor American friend,” Jules said, patting my arm as we turned the corner into the aisle lined with bottles of mustards and salad cream. That’s when I saw him and stopped dead in my tracks, Mary practically plowing into me from behind. I must have made a strangled sound, because Jules looked over at me, her eyes wide.

See, here’s the thing: I was a huge fan of Taron Egerton. I’d watched every movie he’d ever done, read every interview and watched hours of videos on YouTube, possibly to the point where my friends worried about my sanity. I’d never met him, of course, and didn’t think chances like that happened to girls like me. Cons were too expensive and, well, bumping into him on the street had only been a fantasy. And yet, there he was, in all his gorgeous charm, wearing jeans that were far too tight and a blue blazer over his usual white shirt, basket in hand.

Before I had a chance to think, let alone react, Jules gave me a wicked grin and, quick as a flash, grabbed a bottle of brown sauce off the shelf and expertly rolled it down the tile like she was bowling.

I stood there, mouth open, absolutely dumbfounded, as the bottle came to a stop against Taron’s shoe and he looked up and over at me. Of course Jules and Mary had already disappeared around the corner, leaving me to try and find my voice and say anything at all.

“I believe this is yours,” Taron said, holding out the bottle to me. For a long moment I just stood there and stared, before managing to regain my composure.

“Ah, yes. Clumsy me,” I tried to smile brightly.

“Yeah, only it was your friend trying to get you in trouble, wasn’t it?” he said, giving me the warmest smile. I felt the blush creeping up my neck and willed it to not make my face red.

“Maybe you’re the kind of trouble I’ve been looking to get into,” I said, the words tumbling out before I had a chance to stop them. Now I was fully blushing. “Sorry, that was creepy, wasn’t it?” I said, and he laughed.

“Well, no one’s yet tried to pick me up in a Tesco, so it’s definitely a first,” he grinned at me. “It’s Taron, by the way,” he said, as if I didn’t already know that. Those peridot eyes of his had a way of making girls stupid, and I was no exception.

“Uh, Jess…,” I said, stumbling over my own name.

He tilted his head slightly and grinned. “Jessica, or…?” he asked.

“I just go by Jess,” I managed, though the way he’d said Jessica made me sort of want to faint. Get a grip, I told myself. “And I don’t know why no one’s tried to pick you up here. It’s quite romantic, between the gravies and puddings,” I said, hoping that sounded as witty as I thought it did and not just pathetic, but Taron obliged me and chuckled.

“Well, thank you for being the saviour of my brown sauce,” I grinned, having been hugging the bottle to myself for lack of anything better to do with my hands.

“You’re quite welcome,” he replied politely, and for a moment I was caught up gazing at his face, at the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“Right. I should...go then,” I said, suddenly feeling awkward and all-too-aware of my all-too-American accent despite the fact that I’d been living in London for about a year. “I hate to take up your time when you’re clearly just shopping. I’m also sorry about my friends being obnoxious,” I added for good measure.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s been a pleasure,” he smiled. “You’ve been quite lovely,” he said, making my head swim a bit.

“Thanks,” I said, shivering as a blast of air conditioning hit me, and he seemed to notice for the first time that I looked a bit like a drowned rat. I could only hope my makeup hadn’t already melted down my face.

“My god, you’re soaked to the bone!” he said, suddenly concerned.

“It just started storming out of nowhere!” I replied with an indignant laugh. “I won’t melt, but it’s freezing in here.”

“Right, I know just the thing you need,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Where’d your friends get off to?” he said, walking resolutely toward the end of the aisle to find them there, giggling unashamedly. Of course.

“Come on then, you girls need some warming up,” he said, beckoning us all to follow him as he made his way to the store’s cafe, and subsequently offered to buy us all a coffee to warm us up. Jules mouthed “oh my god” before wiggling her eyebrows at me. I just rolled my eyes back at her, but inside I felt like squealing.

“Thank you, Taron, this is too much,” I tried to say, but he simply waved it off and then handed us each a steaming cup.

“Nonsense. You’ve been kind to me,” he said, and I wondered if he meant that I hadn’t rushed at him or asked for a selfie. Because mostly all I’d done was blush and try not to say anything exceedingly embarrassing.

“You know, Jess here is one of your biggest fans,” Mary grinned, putting her equally wet arm around me and snickering as my cup nearly slipped from my fingers in response. I quickly set it down on the table we were standing near, not trusting myself to hold onto it.

“Really,” Taron just laughed before smirking at me. “So you instantly knew who I was, love?” I could only nod, feeling slightly mortified. “Well,” he replied, grabbing one of my hands in his and, to my disbelief, lifting it up to his face and placing a sweet kiss on the back of my hand. “The world needs more fans like you.” His eyes fairly sparkled at me, and before I managed to say anything more, he nodded at both Jules and Mary, said “Good day, ladies,” picked up his basket and left. The chills running down my spine were no longer from the cold.

Jules and Mary and I slid into the booth, sipping at our coffees before Jules broke the silence by fairly squealing at me. “Oh my god, Jess, that happened! Taron Egerton just bought us coffees!”

“And he kissed your hand! You’re never washing that again,” Mary joked.

“Eww,” I laughed, still having a hard time believing it had happened at all. “Am I going to wake up just to find this was a lovely dream? Because that’s been my life,” I said, shaking my head. Jules reached over and pinched my arm lightly. “Ouch!” I said, snatching my arm away from her and rubbing it.

“Nope, definitely real,” she just grinned.

“You should definitely write a fic about this!” Mary giggled. “I bet it would be super cute.”

“I don’t know, you guys,” I said. “It’s not like I have picture proof!” I added, playfully pouting.

“Or do you,” Jules grinned like a mad cat, holding out her phone and showing me that she’d been peeking around the corner snapping photos while I’d been talking to Taron in the aisle. I gasped out loud. Most of them were slightly blurry or I looked mostly awful, but there were a couple snaps that could be classified as cute. Okay, at least on Taron’s part.

“Jules, I freaking love you!” I shouted, disturbing some patrons nearby as Mary shushed me playfully. 

Jules texted the photos to me and grinned. “You’d better thank me later. You would have never said anything to him without me.”

“Do you want an award or something?” I laughed lightly, just staring at the photos while we finished our coffees, feeling indeed much warmer than before.

“So, ladies, shall we get on with our day?” Jules said in her eternally cheerful British accent.

“I’ve still got to pay for my brown sauce!” I laughed. “The sauce that started it all.” Mary and Jules giggled at that, following me to the checkout and then back out into the world, the sun shining brightly now that the storm had moved on through. I couldn’t help but smile up at it, aware of just how special the moment had been for me.

I knew I would have to figure out how to share the loveliness that was my experience with Taron, because the world needed to know how fantastically sweet he was, how kind and considerate, but for now, it was my moment to savor. If you liked this fic, keep reading! - Part 2 here

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron x reader #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton fanfiction

[guesswho-mp3]

[ Catch Me ]

AU: batman!jaehyun, tomcat!taeyong | Pairing: character x reader | Warnings: some language, shoddy characterization, minor dom/sub themes, references to smut | Rating: 17+ | Word Count: 2.2k

Based off of the dynamic Batman and Catwoman have both in Arkhamverse and the New 52, kinda botched and this took a direction that I wasn’t planning but whatevs.

“You could’ve used the door you know.”

The intruder bolted upright, his foot catching on the window ledge, tripping before catching himself.

“Sorry Cat, old habit.” He ruffled his hair, unable to meet the man’s eyes who was leaned up against the door frame, arms crossed over his Kiss the Chef apron.

He let him off with a shake of his head. “Oh no I’m flattered. It’s not every day someone gets to see Gotham’s Prince climbing through their window. You remind me of the bad boy parents warn their kids about,” he said. His smile faltered as his gaze fell behind Jaehyun to the alarm system, wires shot and lifeless, swaying from the window sill.

The billionaire at least had the decency to look ashamed when his eyes trailed to see what he was focused on. “I’ll buy you another one,” he promised. He let out a noise of affirmation as he pivoted, leading the guilty party into his dining room, where an assortment of dishes laid on a table set for two.

“You cooked.”

“Well, last time when we were at yours you nearly burned down the whole manor attempting to make carbonara. I decided to save you from Alfred’s wrath and take care of the cuisine this time. Plus I wanted to.” He paused while filling up their wine glasses, overcome with a fondness and sincerity that nearly suffocated him with its implications. ”You’re welcome.”

Their eyes met and suddenly it was still. The usual chatter of car horns and wailing sirens that blasted through all hours of the day quieted to soft whispers. Acid bubbled and ate away at their flesh to reveal their bare bones but they loved the burn of it as they were able to see each other’s hearts and underlying scars. Both extremely fucked up inside.

That brought them some semblance of peace. They were able to understand why the other had scars marring their skin; why the other would wake up in a cold sweat, hands twisting the sheets; why they both had to become something that made their innocence cower and tremble in fear, all in the name of survival. With each other they could breathe a little easier even with Gotham’s vices smothering them.

“Cat?”

“Yes, Bat?”

“I—.”

“I know. I love you too”

Batman grabbed the goon’s neck and slammed him to the ground, the move providing leeway for Tomcat to catapult off his back and scissor kick another.

With the last of the thugs down and Two Face knocked out and handcuffed they were able to finally catch their breath. The thief languidly stretched out his already sore muscles but the Bat remained tensed, primed for a fight.

“What’s got you brooding, B-man? Get your spandex in a twist?”

“What are you doing here, Taeyong?” he asked.

The man’s peach lips pouted, “You know Bat for such a big dark secretive vigilante you sure do drop the aliases quick. I thought you liked to keep things professional dur—”

“Why are you here?” The words were made more malicious by the voice scrambler, warped and demonic, he was using the same voice he did to intimidate criminals. The feline hissed.

“Easy now. So maybe I popped in for a quick steal. I didn’t know Two Face and his lackeys would show up, but I could’ve handled it on my own.“ The vigilante didn’t like that answer.

“I know you can handle yourself, but this is about you being here, causing trouble. All the thefts!The fights! Your idiotic risk taking!” The demonic barking escalated into a frightening crescendo but the cat kept coy.

“How long do you think we can keep this up before I actually have to do something about your proclivity for burglary and not just stand by like an idiot?”

“Honestly I thought the sex would buy me some leniency,” the feline fatale admitted. “But fine you win! Take my prize that I worked so hard to steal,” he pouted, pulling out the satchel of jewels.

“It’s not that simple, Cat. If I make exceptions for you where does it end? I’m supposed to fight injustice, not share a bed with it.”

Cat narrowed his eyes. “I’m not gonna quit if that’s what you’re implying. And I’ve known you long enough now that you’re not just gonna drop me either. You care about me too much to let me fall.”

A beat.

“That’s why this has to end.”

Oh. He was serious.

“No! You don’t get to do that! If you think I’m gonna let you—“

An explosion set off, Tomcat being blinded by shutters of light, a ringing in his sensitive ears.

He hacked, waving away the plumes of fog, vision hazy. “Fucking smoke bombs. That angsty bastard. He’ll be back.”

He wasn’t.

Even with Cat’s weekly break-ins having dwindled down to zero and after being off the G.C.P.D’s radar for some time now, his good behavior still didn’t earn him any gold stars. Pictures he had in his head of Batman crawling back to him in that delicious little black number were far from the reality.

If he wanted the Bat’s attention he had to quit playing and do something big. Grab his attention. Stealing the city’s single most prized diamonds seemed like the logical thing to do.

It was truly laughable just how easy it was to slip into Gotham Jewelers undetected. After multiple robberies from his truly over the years, Taeyong couldn’t help but wonder why they never bothered to up the security. His lithe body easily sailed through the wires, not even a single scratch on him; claws cutting a perfect circle into the glass case like ribbon and snatching the necklace before she was slinking away. Right before he grappled up the ceiling grate he made sure to trip the alarm. The Bat would be there in minutes.

Opening the panel that led to the rooftop, the cat burglar easily jumped out before he actually took some time to inspect his steal. Wrapped around his neck, neon lights bounced off the glimmering diamonds as he admired himself in a puddle that had formed earlier in the day’s gloomy showers. The choker, which consisted of hundreds of intricately beaded diamonds, cost a pretty penny, but he couldn’t have given less of a shit about the price tag when her person of interest would be arriving in 3….2…..

“Thieving again, Tomcat?”

Like clockwork.

He couldn’t help the scoff that fell from his lips at his professional persona bullshit. He turned around, seeing Jaehyun’s form for the first time in awhile, some part of him wanting to run and cling to him, the other wanting to rip him to shreds. He decided on the latter. Consider it payback. “Breakups tend to make people fall back into old habits. You should know why I’m doing this more than anyone, Jaehyun.”

“I’m not here to play around, Cat. Hand over the necklace before I turn you in.” All he got in response was a raise of the burglar’s eyebrows.

“Turn me in? Oh no, you can’t do that. If I’m locked up then who's gonna play our little game of chase,” he questioned.

Let’s see,” Taeyong listed on his fingers,” Joker is in Arkham, probably running himself up the walls, Riddler is doing…Well, whatever it is Doyoungie does with his puzzles. Your little “Super Friends” are off saving the day somewhere, so sad for you, you’re out of a playmate. But put me in a cage, if that’s what you truly want. My bet is you’re just trying to get me in handcuffs again...” he trailed off, twirling his whip like a tail.

Batman visibly stiffened at the insinuation, and Tomcat purred. He’d be lying if he said a small part of him wasn’t thoroughly enjoying making this little birdy squirm. Riled up Jaehyun was always better in bed.

“Aw what’s the matter, has the reminder of our previous moonlight trysts got you hot under the cowl. We could have fun just like we used to, all you have to do is say yes.” He was a breath away from him now, daringly scraping his claws up the proud insignia splayed across the Bat’s chest.

Before he could react, a gloved hand wrapped around Cat’s neck and his back met the brick wall with a dull thud.

“What I want is the diamonds. I’m not going to ask again, kitten.”

A gasp escaped from Tomcat’s throat, roses blooming on the his cheeks at their position. God, his stubbornness was pretty fucking annoying when it was being used against him.

Cattish eyes slanted at the challenge, a growl rumbling deep within him. His razored claws didn’t penetrate the titanium tri-weave breastplate, but they still provided enough grip for him to swat Jaehyun away and glide out from under his grip. This was taking too long.

“You’ve held out longer than I thought you would. Newsflash world’s greatest detective! You’re too hard headed to see what‘s going on. I know you Jaehyun.“ Knees bent, him body coiled.

I know there’s something you want more.”

The cat pounced, paws ripping off the dark knight’s cowl and capturing his midnight lover’s lips. Provoked, Jaehyun pulled him closer by the scruff of his neck, their passionate dance of swiping tongues and nipping teeth accompanied by a symphony of pleasured groans and breathy sighs.

Slowed down to a tender waltz, the tensed crime fighter’s form went lax at the change of pace, Cat pampering him with soft pecks and kitten licks. Each note that left his mouth struck another chord within Jaehyun’s heart.

“You make it so hard to resist you,” the billionaire acquiesced.

Biting Jaehyun’s bottom lip to cause a little more mischief, the reformed thief stepped back to readjust his knight’s mask. “That’s why you love me,” he purred, smoothing his claws over Jaehyun’s cheek bones before backtracking to the edge of the roof.

“Hey pretty boy—“ Cat turned, arms spread above his head, a performer taking center stage lit up by neon lights.

“Catch me!”

Then he swandived.

Tomcat’s life had slowed down a lot since he quit the burglar business. His old schedule of dropping into banks and vaults was now exclusive to plundering criminal elite’s hideouts, which was allowed as long as she donated most of it. It earned him a reputation for being a backstabber and a traitor to his kind in the underground but every half-brain thug knew thieves were loyal to no one.

Except maybe this one to the Knight.

After a long day teaching step combinations to a bunch of chaotic and rowdy kids in his newly opened dance studio (with money earned from a cash grab from Penguin’s vault) she just wanted to curl up on the couch and watch cartoons— but nothing in his life was ever that fucking simple.

Some stupid idiot decided to break in. How ironic.

He had yet to take off his fur coat when an object in his periphery caught his gaze, the hairs on the back of his neck called to attention, eyes forming into slits. Laid poised on his four poster bed was a satin box that looked extremely out of place.

The last “gift” that was left for Tomcat on his bed sprayed chloroform in his face and she woke up dangling over a vat of acid in Ace Chemicals as bait. Not his proudest moment, but he still got a good view of the Bat’s muscles flexing when he was knocking out the Joker’s goons. If curiosity killed the cat he was sure Jaehyun would find it amusing that it was his spandex covered ass on his mind before he went out.

With caution, he raised the box up to his ear, not hearing any ticking sounds he gave it a tiny whiff and a lick, noting the absence of any chemical substance. Just to be safe, he angled his face away from the lid as he slid it off to avoid any undesirable repeat occurrences.

Nestled in the crushed velvet interior was a very familiar diamond choker, under it a receipt of purchase which he gaped at the price before crumpling it and carelessly tossing somewhere. There was a small card attached, immediately recognizing the elegant penmanship the faintest kiss of his fingertips running over the writing.

Dinner, same time as last. I look forward to seeing you in this. -J

Clasping the adornment around his neck, Cat fell back onto the sheets with a bubbly laugh, holding the card to his thrumming heart. More champagne giggles tumbled from his lips at the acknowledgement that snagging Jaehyun was her grandest heist he’d ever pulled off, his pièce de résistance complete with dimples and a savior complex. Just then he noticed his curtains fluttering, swaying from the wind entering through the cracked open window. The high-tech alarm system that must’ve cost a mini fortune sitting deactivated. He huffed, a fond grin on her porcelain features.

“Rich bastard, he owes me another one.”

Looks like the cat got the cream and gets to eat it too.

[the-y-generation]

Not My Type (Chapter 3)

Summary: “Do you know how you stop a craving? You give in to it.”

When she signed on to be a road manager, she had no idea it was going to be for one of the biggest bands in the world, much less how they were going to turn her life upside down, nor how she was about to flip theirs too. Especially one irritating frequently-late vocalist who knew exactly how charming he could be.

Pairing: Idol!Jimin / Manager!Original Character (I personally haven’t written in “y/n” format, so I just gave the reader a name, but barely even mention it)

Genre/Themes: fluff, angst, friends with benefits, friends to lovers

Rating: Starts off G, but M in later chapters

Status: Ongoing (Masterlist)

Things got better between her and Jimin after the awards fiasco. Not right away, and definitely not painlessly, but they got there eventually.

Jimin would still be late but only sometimes now, and she’d no longer want to rip his head off. Nowadays, when he’s come rushing in, aware of how late he was, he’d flash the irate girl his best boyish smile - the one where his eyes scrunched up into crescents and he showed all his pearly whites.

In retaliation, she’d reach over and flick him on the forehead once, just to slip the cheeky grin off his face and earn a few chuckles from his bandmates.

Other times, he’d take the charming route - leaning in close when she fixed his collar until their faces were only a breath away, and her every exhale pushed into his lips. He’d stare so deeply into her eyes, it was almost as if he could read the future of the universe in them.

Jimin knew what he was doing. But so did she.

Most of the time, she’d shove him on the shoulder and walk away.

But sometimes, when she was particularly frustrated with him, she’d hold his spell and push back. She’d lean in even closer, just until she could almost feel the warmth of his mouth on hers. She'd watch the panic slowly simmer in his eyes that she might actually finish what he started. Then Jimin would back away and let her win that round.

So it went, their little game of cat and mouse when they were on the clock as road manager and artist.

But when they were off the clock, things went a little differently.

Being of the same age, they forged a friendship that was easy-going and relaxed. Without a senior-junior dynamic, the two built a bond as equals, founded on their ability to make fun of the other, where both could be their authentic selves.

She laughed at his dumb jokes and put extra pieces of fruit on his plate. He let her sort out his messy suitcase and stole from her fries. She borrowed his plain sweaters sometimes. He used her hair products.

Without the underlying tension of work, they became fast friends, much to the relief of the rest of the band. Namjoon was particularly grateful as he was getting tired of having to pull the two apart, in fear that one might actually murder the other.

Now, she and Jimin exchanged spare hotel room keys, knowing that they’d end up hanging out in each other’s rooms anyway.

But sometimes, on their days off, she wanted to be alone. Like today.

She decided to stay in her room and get some quality rest. It had been an exhausting week - they crossed a continent, she fought with one venue partner for not providing an airconditioned dressing room (“There are seven of them! What are you going to do if one of them collapses with a heat stroke in this cramped room?!”) and Hoseok had a wardrobe malfunction last night.

Feeling like she deserved some Me Time, she planned out her day - sleep in, grab a fancy brunch, get a mani-pedi, and end the day with a long soak in the tub.

But Jimin and Jungkook seemed to have other plans.

Just as she had finished getting dressed for her brunch out, the pair barged into her room unannounced and plopped down on her bed.

She rolled her eyes at them in the mirror as she applied some light lipstick. Jungkook rolled over and buried himself under the covers while Jimin laid on top of the sheets and met her gaze in the mirror with a curious smirk of his own.

“Don’t tell me you have a date,” Jimin asked as she fluffed her hair.

She chuckled. “Fine then. I won’t tell you.”

The boy frowned, brows meeting to scrunch up his button nose. “So you do have a date?”

“I thought you said not to tell you.”

It was Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes and groan at her. “Fine. Be that way.”

She laughed and turned around to face them properly instead of having to converse through the mirror.

“I’m going out to brunch by myself, okay?” She said, starting to pack her essentials into her purse. “So you guys are gonna have to leave the room.”

“You’re not gonna invite us?” Jungkook pouted, voice muffled by the pillow partially suffocating him.

“Nope, I just want some personal time today.” She shrugged unapologetically.

She turned to face Jimin to tell him not to use his spare key to enter her room without her permission while she was gone. But the second she met his eyes, she immediately regretted it.

He looked at her with the full force of his puppy dog eyes, his baby cheeks puffed out, and his plump lower lip pushed out in a boyish pout.

It was adorable and sexy, and just about everything sinful in the world.

“Are you sick of us already?” He pouted at her.

She stabbed an accusatory finger in his direction. “Put that face away before I make you regret it.”

He laughed hard, the type that squeaked at the end, causing the pout to slip from his lips. Then, without prompting or permission, he crouched over her open suitcase lying by the foot of her bed.

“Is this a BTS sweater?” Jimin chuckled, holding up an oversized black sweater.

“No shit,” She deadpanned, eyeing the “BTS” printed in big bold letters at the back, with their tour dates underneath.

Jungkook got to his feet as well and joined Jimin in violating her privacy. She remained standing as she watched them - like little kids digging for treasure, they sifted through her clothes in search of more of their merch.

“Why do you have so many of our shirts?!” Jungkook asked amusedly, holding up another band shirt with "BT21" printed on it.

Anna glanced at her watch, resigned to the fact that she’s going to have to let them ride this curiosity out. With a sigh, she sat on her bed, her ankle gently kicking Jimin’s shin as he sat on the floor by her feet.

“You guys own a lot of your own merch too, you know?” She countered, smirking at Jungkook. “I figured I should buy some too.”

Jimin snapped his head towards her, eyes wide in confusion. “Wait, you actually bought these?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Jimin looked at her like she just grew two heads. “Why would you buy them? You could just ask us to get you some.”

“But I didn’t want to do that." Anna shrugged, lifting her feet to fully sit on the bed. "That’s like abuse of position or something.”

“But you’re with us. You shouldn’t have to pay for our merch." Jimin replied.

"Yeah. Do you think Taehyung would go to a store and pay for his own band’s shirt?" Jungkook chimed in.

She rolled her eyes at their strange sense of protectiveness. They really got worked up over the weirdest things.

“Well, Jin buys every RJ he comes across, so what’s your point?” She countered. The two boys opened their mouths to retort, but nothing came out. Taking advantage of their silence, she swept the conversation under the rug. “And anyway, you can’t do anything about it now. I already bought them so….relax.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes at her in a final attempt at being intimidating but continued sifting through her pile of shirts.

"Oh! Speaking of-" Jungkook exclaimed, holding up a Tata shirt.

The two boys exchanged looks, starting with pleasant surprise, blending into mischief.

“Did you get all of the characters?” Jimin asked, but he needed no answer. He and Jungkook were already halfway through her suitcase and elbows-deep in her clothing. The exasperated manager sighed, already anticipating that she had a lot of cleaning up to do later.

“I think so?" She chuckled, leaning back on her elbows while keeping an amused gaze on the child-like boys before her. "I don’t even know anymore.”

They continued digging, laughing at each character they find - an RJ sweater, a Cooky hoodie, a Van shirt, and so on.

But when they reached the bottom of her luggage and her suitcase lay nearly empty on the floor, Jimin looked up at her with doe-eyed confusion.

“Where’s Chimmy?”

God bless those eyes. That hair. It's disrespectful, really.

Wait. He asked a question. What did he say?

“What?” She blinked at him.

“Chimmy." He repeated, pointing a finger at himself. Then he looked down, gesturing to the shirts that lay before him. "You have everyone but Chimmy. Where’s Chimmy?”

Anna tilted her head, sifting through her memories of interviews and fan merchandise, to try and place what the hell a Chimmy was. Eventually, the visual of a yellow hoodie-wearing chubby-cheeked canine came to the forefront of her brain.

“That’s the yellow dog, right?”

“What the-" He choked, jaw slack with shock and distaste. "Yes! Yes, the yellow dog.”

“Oh. I think I don’t have that.”

He looked like she might as well have slapped him across the face. Or kicked him in the balls. Or told him that she was a puppy murderer.

“Why not?” He whined.

“I don’t know, okay?" She rushed to backpedal. "I just...don’t? I’ll buy one next time.”

Jimin didn't respond, looking positively livid and thunderous that it made her head spin with confusion. Then, without another word, he got on his feet and stormed out.

The slamming of the door rang through the stillness of the room.

"O...kay?" Jungkook broke the awkward silence. "What just happened?"

"I have no idea." Anna chuckled dryly, still staring at the door.

"Did he seriously leave me?" Jungkook groaned, rising to his feet. "We actually came here to invite you to lunch, but I guess that's not happening anymore.

"I'm sorry." She pouted at him.

But before she could continue, a sound came from the door, pulling Anna's and Jungkook's attention.

Jimin stomped back into the room, eyes blazing so much that Anna had to look away. He clutched some balled-up black thing in his hand, which he aggressively chucked into her suitcase. Then, he spun on his heel and stormed back out.

Anna and Jungkook didn't move, gazes transfixed on whatever the hell Jimin just tossed in the suitcase. Eventually, she snapped out of it and reached for the offending item.

It was his Chimmy shirt.

#jimin #jimin fic #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #park jimin #park jimin fic #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #jimin x oc #jimin x original character #jimin smut #park jimin smut #park jimin fwb #jimin fwb #not my type

[houseofvans]

SKETCHY BEHAVIORS | Interview with VALERIE SAVARIE

Denver artist Valerie Savarie creates intricately carved book sculptures that she painstakingly maps out and cuts, forming her own unique narrative creation. Each of her unique sculptures can take her from 40 hours to over 100 hours to complete. Not only one thing, Valerie also runs a collective gallery, Valkarie Gallery in Colorado, where various artists in the community show and share work. We find out more about Valerie’s book sculpture process, what her favorite tome creation is, and the things that inspire her. 

Take the leap below! 

Photographs courtesy of the artist. 

Introduce yourself Howdy! My name is Valerie Savarie and I create carved book sculptures. I live in the Mile High city of Denver, Co, sharing a house with two cats Meelo and Varuka and my ever loving and supportive husband Matt. As cats are insatiable creatures when it comes to food and attention (which can turn into a zero creativity day), I eventually relocated my studio to Lakewood where it is connected to the collective gallery I run (Valkarie). I believe in lots of vitamin C to keep me healthy and creating (coffee, carrots and chips). Random fact: most of my tattoos are beyond the legal drinking age.

What was your introduction to art like? I was fortunate that my parents got myself and my sisters into art as kids. During the summers instead of wasting our time in front of the TV, we were enrolled in art programs. The city where I grew up - Madison, WI – also had this (and still does to this day) awesome thing called the Art Cart that would find its way to various parks over the summer and have free art projects – my favorite was the plaster casting of our faces at the beach. My dad also took us to many galleries and lectures. I can remember being in third or fourth grade and attending a Georgia O’Keeffe exhibition.

How did that eventually lead you to creating your own works and specifically your book sculptures? Honestly, I have an older (not too much older) sister that was always the artist so I shied away from art for years. Sure, I was a professional doodler, yet I wanted to be my own person and struggled with the sibling rivalry a la Jan and Marcia for years. I turned to creative writing in high school and the first go around of college. Finally, I moved away, and moved away again, tried college a second time majoring in interior design and minoring in scenic design (secretly I wanted to be an architect) and ended up having a professor that had an MFA – Robert Work – who I am still friends with (god, it has been over 15 years since graduation). He reignited that artistic spark in me. I even applied to grad school for art and got rejected from every school I applied to yet I still made art.

A few years down the road I met my husband and he really pushed me to get my art out in public, which was frightening. I ended up joining a co-op where I experimented with various mediums and styles. I created some cube sculptures (bartered autocad drawings for them) and I was in love. 3D art took over my heart, unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to buy the cubes out right and my cabinet maker friend didn’t need any more drawings. So I sought out something that I could afford for material, something that was also easy to come by and easy to manipulate. A thrift store junky, I decided to test my hand on carving up books. That was just over 7 years ago.

What is the process for book creations? From start to finish, how long does the entire piece take? My pieces are formed by three different processes of creation: what it is, what I want it to be and it will be what it will be. What it is means that the story in the book inspires me. What I want it to be means that I have an idea that I need to find a book that fits the visual story I want to create, whereas it will be what it will be means I take a book with no idea in mind as to how it will turn out and intuitively start cutting.

I would say about 67% of the books I create fall into the what I want it to be category so that’s what I will describe. I will get an image stuck inside my head and think about it quite a bit before I will put pencil to paper, working out basic concepts in my head and then creating a very rudimentary sketch (mainly so I don’t forget the idea). I then head off to the stacks – a very unorganized collection – in search of a book whose story has some of the same elements as mine. This is a daunting task as I have no idea as to what the content of at least 97% of the books I house is.

Sadly the adage “you can’t judge a book by its cover” is all too accurate. Titles can be misleading, the content seems like a good match but the cover has illustrations that are in conflict with the vision, and heaven forbid I can’t find any information on the book on Google and then have to decide if I have the time to invest in reading a few chapters or should just keep looking elsewhere.

After hours and even days of searching, I find the match – the perfect companion to my vision. I leaf through most of the pages, book marking those passages, illustrations, lack of text or unique text layout for me to revisit as I cut layer by layer, page by page. Then a slightly more detailed sketch is created – and then comes the point of no return …

I draw the shape of the cut out on the cover and with book and blade in hand, the transformation begins. All cuts are done with a craft knife – yes, even the cover. It is cut by scoring multiple times and then stab and drag, stab and drag. Sure, there are easier ways to do this - the not so occasional accidental sacrifice of blood still doesn’t deter me - I prefer to use my hands, to be able to pack up to my art, take it anywhere I chose to create and not worry about access to electricity. With the cover hole cut, I take out my file and smooth the opening, refine the curves and lines. Then another sketch of how the piece will be laid out is drawn on the front leaf of the book. This can be especially handy to have in more complex designs where I use the image as a template or stencil when cutting the many layers.

From then on out, it is just a matter of cutting one to three pages at a time. The number of pages is determined by the quality of the paper and over all design. Admittedly, this can become tedious if the depth of the layer is greater than ¼” but it is also important for me NOT to rush through the cutting of pages stage as phrases and images easily hide from view when I first go through the book in search of the elements I want expose.

Accidents do happen – the occasional over cut of a section or completely cutting out a page I meant to keep. I am very rigid in my creative process – if the section has been completely cut through, I just walk away from it – even though it would be quite easy to simply glue that section to the page below. The story can develop plot twists during this time as the layers start taking on a different life and their shadows start telling a story of their own as I cut deeper and deeper.

This, the lengthiest part of the creation process, I mentally start to flesh out what the painted characters – or inhabitants – of the book sculpture will look like (I can easily spend over 40 hours of just cutting the pages and so have a lot of “free creative brain time”) . How will they interact in the environment, what will their facial expression be? I dare not start painting them until all pages that will be cut, are cut, as I want the character - be in human, animal or other worldly - to look as if they had grown up in the book sculpture and has called it home forever. The characters are painted with acryla gouache on sheets of mixed media paper or directly onto the book page. The latter is more of a spirit creature – a ghost that is still very much part of the life force of the book. These little paintings are then mounted to illustration board for rigidity and cut out (again by hand with a craft knife).

Once the book cutting is complete and the character painted, I move on to the last creative piece which ties the story together (literally) - the stitching. Each altered book piece has some thread or string (occasionally wire is substituted) added to help in the visual story telling. It can be very elaborate such as sewing branches and leaves onto the cover or something as simple as a few blades of grass. The drilling to create the needle holes in the cover is (again) done with a hand tool called a jeweler’s drill. This nifty device has interchangeable bits from the diameter of a hair to 7mm lead. I believe the longest recorder amount of time I have spent drilling/stitching a single piece is 15 hours.

Now it’s time to do all the boring stuff that makes the piece ready to hang. All the pages are bound together, I create a little wire coat hanger in which the piece can be hung and sew it onto the back of the book as well as stitch in the publication and rebirth years. Both covers are glued to the bound pages, clamped and by the next day, what was once an orphaned book, now rid of its shell, is a three dimensional sculpted piece of art!

And that is how my book sculptures are born.

How long? On average 40 hours a piece. A few take less time and I have spent over 100 hours on a piece more than once.

Where do the books come from? Are they from collecting or via donation? How are you inspired when creating these intricate piece? Are they inspired by the book or from an idea you jotted down? My books come fro various sources. Initially I would get them at thrift stores, the rule was that they had to be as old as me. I normally still stick to that rule unless it is a commission or a piece created for a specific themed show. More recently, I have had a lot of books donated to me – some because the thrift stores won’t take them any more and others because the former owners’ had cherished them and hoped that they could find new life in my hands. On rare occasions I do order from Ebay. I prefer the hunt, stalking down the perfect book, taking weeks and even months. Sometimes, I don’t have that luxury due to deadlines.

Normally I have a concept I want to develop, I look through my stacks (which numbers in the 100’s and shelved at random) hoping to find one that has a similar story line. Since I don’t have time to read each one, I go online and do research – reading the synopses – as well as skimming the books. This can be dangerous as sometimes the books I am sorting through pull me in and new inspiration is born from the written word.

I see my pieces as more of a collaboration between myself and the authors and illustrators. I use their art form as an inspiration stream and add my own twist (or chapter) to create the stories anew.

Is there a piece that was directly influenced by a memory or experience you’ve had or story you’ve heard? It is rare that I remember my dreams but a few years ago I awoke and remembered having a very strange dream about tiny cyclops octopuses and tea cups. Shortly there after I stumbled across a Reader’s Digest collection that contained 20,000 leagues Under the Sea and so I had to create the little cyclopes – sans teacups. I really want to revisit that dream in art form again – with the tea cups – as of yet, I haven’t come across any books that would fit.

What’s the perfect day at the studio like for you? What kinds of things would we find in your creative space?

A perfect day would start around 6pm. I prefer to work at night until the early hours of the morning. I would have a nice cup of endless coffee at hand, a bag of baby carrot and raw nuts available for snacking (separate bags) and some left over Indian food for later in the evening/morning. The original Twin Peaks is playing in the back ground (i pretty much have the dialogue memorized) and my shoes are off and slippers on.

Spread around me on the floor (I work sitting on the floor) is a brand new cutting mat that smells of childhood summer beach toys, an assortment of craft knifes with brand new blades (I rarely use new blades as I have learned to sharpen them) and a vintage book begging me to caress its pages, ogle its inner beauty and then skillfully and slowly start to transform its story from the 2D writing into a 3D world it never knew it could be!

Within my studio I have quite a nice collection of small art (besides my own of course). I use it for inspiration and feed off the remnants of creative energy that the artists left with each piece. There are books, LOTS of books that have no rhyme or reason to their shelving locations or book neighbors. I have quite a few orchids which may or may not be in bloom – all of which were gifts. I have a cool vintage love seat which normally is a place for art to lounge on along with the occasional visitor. A nice collection of coffee mugs – with at least half of them needing to be washed- and of course a coffee maker. I also have an old radio from probably the 30’s that I occasionally plug in and turn on – the sound is great but there aren’t that many am radio stations with strong enough signal that are worth listening to.

What’s one of your favorite creations you’ve made and why? I created a piece based on Pan’s Labyrinth. It was the first piece of fan art I had ever created.

I rarely actually watch movies or t.v. - I listen to them but my eyes and hands are busy creating art. I don’t like foreign films that have voice overs, there is just something unnerving about them.

So with Pan’s Labyrinth, it is something that I actually had to watch. It is a visual masterpiece – as is everything that Guillermo del Toro does.

Creating art based off of something that is already a magnificent piece of art is quite challenging. I didn’t want it to be obviously fan art it was important I make it my own. I ended up using a book in Spanish about the Spanish Civil war. I also used some techniques that were new to me – removing the decorative fabric only from the cover to create pattern, adding color and even adding the cover of a larger book as a backdrop. Oh yeah, and a drop of blood – my fingers tips are pretty callused from art making it took a little more effort than I liked to get that blood.

It was exciting to use new techniques and to push myself to be precise and exact – an actual labyrinth with tiny stairs down to the portal – and at the same time use my imagination to explore concepts that I could only see (movie) and not read and translate them into my own design.

What’s your main tool for making art? Is there a medium you’re wanting to try? A craft knife with an Excel blade – the brand REALLY makes a big difference. In a tie would be a good mat – still looking for the perfect one.

I took a class last year on wood block cutting and would really like to do more with that. I think it would work well with the book page scraps I collective (I have many many boxes of them) plus it is another substractive art techniquewhich makes sense in my brain.

Who are some artists that you’re inspired by and have influenced you throughout the years? Edward Gorey is my main influence. Partially because he was both a visual artist and a writer. I love how dark his images are and the same time laced with humor. His black and white color palette obviously works for me as well. There is a simplicity to it and at the same time it is so masterfully done that the work appears much more expansive than it already is.

As far as artists that are alive and kicking today, my local biggest influences are Aria Fawn and Nicole Grosjean. They are completely different in everything they do and at the same time such masters of detail and story telling.

Aria creates surreal and fantastic worlds in watercolor, largely inspired by the beautiful and violent balance of nature and wild things and the cycle of life, death and rebirth. There is such organic and natural beauty in her style, a freeness that I strive to incorporate into my rigid calculated creation process. I probably own more of Aria’s art than anyone else's - I have multiple pieces by her in my studio and home. She is constantly with me, always inspiring, motivating and energizing my creative spirit.

Nicole on the other hand, creates tiny worlds from hand cut, hand painted paper – which she considers three dimensional illustration. Sometimes there are over a thousand individually cut and painted pieces of paper in one work of art. She is so precise, so CLEAN I have no idea how she does it. I have a very tiny praying mantis in a watch piece from her as well as a larger dragon that I got for my husband as a gift to cover all holidays for several years.

My my top three non locals are Jolene Lai, Jason Limon and Kristen Egan. They all are completely different from one another – Kristen creates magical creatures from gourds. I am dying to get my hands on one as 3D art really needs to be experienced in person to feel the texture, see how the light and shadow changes the mood of the piece. She makes it look so seamless – at first glance I thought the were ceramic.

When I first saw Jason’s work I thought it was the most amazing paper cut art I had ever seen, then I realized it was a painting! His playfulness along with social commentary paired with his insane talent to place highlights and shadows it something I strive for. I feel that my painted characters could be so much more influential – a better actor one could say – in the dioramas I create if they appeared more three dimensional. I am lucky to own one small original that lives with me in my studio.

And then there is Jolene. I would consider her one of the greatest artists of all time. There is so much emotion, energy, story telling in her paintings. Her use of color (and again light and shadow) makes her works hyper realistic to me – I feel sucked in and transformed as an active participant in her paintings. I own two beautiful graphite pieces of hers which live at my house.

What’s your experience been like with the art scene in your area? How is the artist community? I LOVE the art scene in Denver. We are a “new” city that still has not lost its small town connectivity in the arts. Artists support other artists, galleries support other galleries. It is not an us vs them mentality here and I really think it will stay that way.

I got my start in a traditional co-op gallery that sadly just closed this year after being open for nearly 30 years.

They rejected me the first time around and told me what to change for the next application round and I got in that second time.

Even at Valkarie we host a drop in creative night every Thursday – going on almost five years. All levels of artists come, from doodlers to professionals, painters to jewelry makers. We openly give feedback on what we re working on and share calls for art and discuss booth set ups for conventions – what works and what doesn’t.

How do you stay inspired on those days when you’re feeling uninspired? To be honest, it has been years since I felt uninspired. I think because of the super supportive art community I always have someone to run ideas off of. Also, the books themselves are full of written and visual inspiration, an unending supply of it. And all that awesome art I collect, for me it’s not a lack of inspiration it’s more a lack of what I want to focus on – too many bees buzzing with ideas in my brain.

When you’re not working in the studio, what are you doing? What do you enjoy? Truth be told, 83% of my waking time revolves around art. Besides spending time with my own art and running Valkarie Gallery, there isn’t much time for anything else.

In that 17%, I enjoy making pies from scratch with my husband, getting out into the mountains to escape all the compartmentalizing of city life and being servant to the cats – if they had their way, I wouldn’t get any art done at all.

If I ever find “free” time again I would love to get back into creative writing, pick up the violin again and go on more bike rides. Nothing sporty, just peddling around town with no destination in mind.

What advice would you give someone who is thinking of becoming an artist? Start young – before you get tied down with a house, spouse or kids. It is much easier to get by on less while you are young.

Don’t feel like you have to get a degree in art (I know I will catch flack for this one). Do take art classes, marketing classes, get involved in with meet up art groups and build community. Some of the most successful artists I know have no formal art degree. Their talent, passion and drive have given them much success without a pile of debt and they tend to be the most active in artist groups.

Know that rejection is 90% of the game and don’t get discouraged. It doesn’t mean you aren’t good at what you do, it can mean that you weren’t what they were looking for. If you are really passionate, you will always create no matter what others say about your art.

Develop a style that is unique to you. This can be the most difficult especially with everything being available to anyone with a smartphone, computer or tablet. I think it is one of the reasons I keep creating the book sculptures and expanding what they are.

What are your FAVORITE Vans?  It really depends on the weather and where I am headed. If it is snowy or raining and am headed to the studio, slip-ons are best, so I can easily take them off and on multiple times a day (sitting on wet shoes is a mistake only made once). In good weather, any Vans are comfortable enough to wear evening while squatting on the floor creating art.

Finally, can you tell us about any exciting things you’ve got coming up? This year I have had my art in five different states and at the beginning of December I will be showing in my sixth. I will have a booth at the Recycled Art Market in Santa Fe, NM. This will be the first time showing my art there and think I will come back with some pretty exciting new ideas on how to incorporate other repurposed items into my books and maybe even find some new resources for creating my sculptures.

I also have two commission coming up that I am really excited to get going on. Will be doing A Clockwork Orange piece and The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe(for two different clients). It has been decades since I read either but I think these two both warrant a reread before I start them (I really do my best to avoid watching movies of books for inspiration).

FOLLOW VALERIE SAVARIE | INSTAGRAM | WEBSITE

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Vans Girls #Valerie Savarie #book #sculpture #sketchy behaviors #interviews #interview

[hopoo]

DEADBOLT Q&A

I tried to answer every question as honestly as I could, so I hope this is a good read. If your question isn’t there, it’s either identical to another one asked or joined together with another question. Cheers!

Q: In total, how much time does the campaign of Deadbolt span? It’s hard to tell, what with it being infinite nighttime and all.

A: I would imagine a month-ish. It is implied that the Candles are doing some sort of investigative work between missions, which would surely take some time. Q: Did you have any major inspirations for the visual design of DEADBOLT? A: John Wick is obviously the biggest one! Q: What would hopoo do if someone made a game completely based and inspired from Deadbolt and its… Concept? (with permission and not) A: There’s no way DEADBOLT is that unique in settings or thematics – ultimately, you know what’s right and what’s wrong when you’re inspired by a work, and so will everyone else! If you feel obligated to ask for permission, maybe you’re not exploring enough original ideas? Q: When will we get modding? if so could we get a simplified modding kit? Any plans for updating dedbort, even just the map editor? Feature for adding custom sprites, rotation tool, copypasta tool, just to name a few… A: So the thing with that is that the map editor is only half the equation – while the map editor may be writing stuff to files, it also has to be interpreted on the end by the DEADBOLT game itself. Therefore, adding features that aren’t supported in engine simply won’t work – it won’t know what youre talking about. While rotation is supported in the engine, it doesn’t know how to read that from the files, etc. I also am trying to avoid any legacy issues where old maps are required for old versions of DEADBOLT, or vice versa. Q: When is deadbolt 2 coming with werewolves and mummies A: Werewolves aren’t undead you dingus. But mummies could be cool.

Q: Will the stuff that came with the release of Deadbolt on Play Station, will be added on PC? A: Nope, that was sorta our deal-sweetener for getting on the Sony consoles. Q: Will we ever see expansion levels for Deadbolt or would we get Deadbolt 2 instead? A: DEADBOLT 2 maybe sometime

Q: Does Ibzan is gay? A: I haven’t really thought of the sexual orientation of any of the characters, and I definitely don’t want to pull a JK Rowling and retroactively assign them. So in terms of canon, that just hasn’t been explored.

Q: Would you prefer deadbolt 2 to be in 3d and 2d? Would you do a sequel? A: DEADBOLT is probably the narrowest design space I’ve worked with – there’s no dodging, insta death, insta travel attacks. By the end I felt very stretched out in terms of enemy design, and for that alone I’d think 3D. But hey, I may also just hate 3D by the end of RoR2 so who knows :^). I’d love to do a sequel one day, most likely from the perspective of Ibzan. But who knows! Q: Did Ibzan want to kill the Fire, or just try to reconcile with it? A: He just wanted to talk – but who knows what would’ve happened after the Fireplace rejected him? Q: Would you be interested in going back to the world of deadbolt sometime in the future? I remember hearing somewhere a 3D concept would be interesting to work on. A: I wish I was talented or driven enough to write comics for it – I think DEADBOLT is more about the stories of individuals, compared to RoR who is a story of the universe. I wrote the Cassette Tapes to reflect that. Q: Looking back, is there anything you’d change about Deadbolt? A: Hmmm… I just wish I somehow could expand more on the lore and gangs, and what their goals were. Gameplay-wise, it was a tad too short. I liked doing a few standard stages, and then a mix-up stage (sniper, trap, boss, etc) – maybe we could’ve fit in a few more rotations. Q: What’s your favourite loadout? A: Death/Taxes and Flashbang, like a scrub. Q: Would you ever be interested in restarting the asset suggestion thread A: I consider DEADBOLT to be done – as a 2 (now 3!) man team, we financially can’t do the games-as-a-service thing like most big companies can for smaller games like DEADBOLT. I also intended DEADBOLT to be a one-and-done thing as a contrast for Risk of Rain, which we updated for years after release.

=CONTROVERSIAL OPINION ALERT= I personally also think that EVERY game getting a bunch of DLCS and updates and patches for a long time is, in a way, exhausting as a player. I think it makes it hard to feel satisfied when you finished a game and it’s over and you feel completed in the journey, knowing it’s not ~technically~ over until the devs stop patching. I think it’s great for some games (mostly multiplayer-based ones), but some games you just gotta let… finish, on a good note. Semi-open ended endings are always unsatisfying, in my opinion, and so recently it just feels like you don’t ever complete a game. …On the flip side, we are planning on doing lots of post-launch support for RoR2 because it’s actually inline with our design goals, so don’t fret! Q: Will bugs like Scythe not having a cover sprite or some enemies not having a falling sprite (which causes the game to crash) be fixed? A: Which enemies have been missing a falling sprite? They should be resorting to idle, not crashing. Bosses? Q: Just wanted to say, you guys are my favorite games studio, hands down. Now for the question: Now that the Reaper has completed his task and is allowed to rest, what’s next? Is the Fireplace going to keep him resting for a while? Does our MC have another task to accomplish? A: The Fireplace has never let a reaper “rest” before - the reason he is allowed to rest is because Ibzan never got to, and the Fireplace is trying something different with you. This is unexplored territory for the both of them – presumably he just pets his cat and gets bored before getting back to work. Q: What happens to everyone else in the afterlife? A: People who aren’t in the Place? Who knows, and who cares about boring happy afterlife 😊 Q: I had a question about the lore. There’s mentions of places outside the city, across the river Styx. What are they and what are they like? A: The Styx connects the other realms together, including (presumably) wherever the demons came from. This is explored lightly in one of the demon cassette tapes. Q: Will you ever expand more on the world of deadbolt or are you 100% done with it at this point? A: Nope definitely not done, really wanna explore more one day Q: What’s your office address? For post and stuff, maybe I want to send you a box full of A4 sheets of paper with a thousand hoopters on each. A: Maybe this is the paranoia in me but I’m not comfortable posting my address online – you can just tweet it at me a thousand times instead Q: Did Ibzan think the flames would give warmth to the Dredged or was he just lying to them and using them for his own gain? A: He was lying to himself, but he did truly believe that this was going to work, because this (at the time, anyways) seemed like the only way out. Metaphor woawoawo Q: Could you add some sorta DEADBOLT reference into RoR2?  Will the Reaper be playable in Risk of Rain 2 as a bonus? A: Definitely references happening in some form, but playable might be stretchin’ it a bit, especially since it’d be taking up the slot of some more in-universe secret character. Q: How excited are for RoR2? A: Honestly very nervous for the reception, with very big shoes to fill as a sequel for RoR. I just hope people like it, and that we don’t get burnt on 3D because there’s so many possibilities in the future for our games in 3D. Q: How are the Demons born? We know they’re made in birthing chambers, but then is it just like humans or is there anything specific needed for a demon to be born f.e. skeletons>suicide, zombies>overdose, etc. A: Demons aren’t undead and don’t naturally exist in the Place, which is why they have to be smuggled over – they exist in whatever version of hell is in the DEADBOLT universe, and are natural denizens of the underworld. Q: was izban hot before he died? A: The hottest Q: do all the nightclubs canonically have chris c. as the dj A: Yes Q: I love Deadbolt very dearly and i’ve listened to its soundtrack (particularly “Now I Am Become Death”) more times than i can remember. What’s your favourite tune from Deadbolt ? A: Defunktorum or The Proverbial Dust Biters Q: In the Hardmode Cassette Tape it talked about a Reaper that wasn`t the current Reaper that we play as in the Game. Was this Reaper Izban? Since in the tape, he talked about the fireplace as his friend and that could be why he wanted to go back to the fireplace through the portal at the end of the game, to revisit his friend. A: Yes yes and yes. This was most heavily implied in Ibzan’s “home”, which parallel yours. Q: Will RoR2 still have opportunities to create silly messy builds like covering the screen in missiles or releasing an endless stream of Thqwibs? If so, how are you working to mitigate the performance impact of those crazy builds? A: Yep! Currently we have a system that detects the average particle count in a scene and slowly adds a chance non-important effects (like hitsparks or impacts) don’t ever spawn. This will at some point also involve turning off expensive effects and reducing particle LODs. Q: I really love the attention to detail to the characters, environment, aesthetics and gameplay mechanics. Its themes on the criminal underworld and the supernatural give a unique identity in a high-octane/stealth pixel action game I have not seen before. Additionally what prompted or inspired you to make DEADBOLT in the first place? A: DEADBOLT in its entirety was supposed to be not-Risk of Rain. It’s a gorey, violent, moody singleplayer puzzle-stealth game. We were just burnt out from the Risk of Rain experience, and we also wanted to flex our design muscles a bit and show that hey, we’re not just a one-trick pony of gamedevelopment :^) Q: I just played through this game on PS4/Vita over the weekend. Huge fan of Risk of Rain. Even bought it through Limited Run Games. So I had to pick up Deadbolt (Didn’t previously know you had made it either.) and I love it. Its a super solid experience. I’m not sure I have any questions about it. I guess I was curious if co-op multiplayer was ever considered in development? Keep up the great work. Can’t wait to see what you guys make next. A: Nope, because of the reasons above – we wanted a single player game, since RoR was a multiplayer one. Q: First of all, congratulations!! I really loved the game since came out, I bought it for my birthday, since risk of rain made me fell in love with all the pixel art in it, deadbolt didn’t disappointed me!! Everything in it I love it! Thanks for the game!! Now the question You already answered about how the skeletons or vampires came to be in that Place, how the vampires are killed by their lovers, but, how a reaper, becomes to be a reaper? I mean a candle said “I’ve never been so close to one” A: Originally, the reapers were actually supposed to be from suicides – if I remember right, the reaper when going down the stairs to the docks still has the hole in the back of his head in his sprite. Currently, it’s not explored how a reaper is made – I think a bit of mystery is always needed in making a believable universe J Q: Lorewise how many reapers are there total? Why are they incredibly fragile compared to the undead? What makes the reapers not undead? A: IIRC there were 4 fireplaces in the final stage, which was supposed to represent the way the fireplace was communicating to all reapers in the field. Q: Do you like turtles? How about corgis? A: Yes, and yes (although there’s way too many in Seattle now). Q: Did you have any idea Chris would break out a whole band’s worth of musicians for the soundtrack? His work was superb and the OST remains my absolute favorite to this day. A: DEADBOLT OST was actually done with many people – it must be in the credits somewhere! If I remember right, there is at least a drummer and a musician.

Thanks for all the questions, and happy hunting :)

hopoo

#deadbolt

[housesilmontaix]

Character Sheet

(Art by the amazing @lilysyndrome​ )

IDENTIFICATION —

Full Name: Elphanse Silmontaix

Pronunciation: El-fawns See-mo-tay

Pseudonym: Eao

Nicknames:  El, E, Sil, Siren

Age:  24 (Equivalent of a 19 year old human)

Name Day: 7th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon

Birthplace: Ishgard

Guardian: Halone

Residence: Currently homeless and couch crashing

REFERENCES —

Motto:  “I do what I must for my family, no regrets.”

Theme Song: Snow Cats by A.F.I., Semi Precious Weapons by Semi Precious Weapons

Face Claim: Eh

STATS —

Gender:  Female

Race: Elezen, Ishgardian

Height:  5'8”

Weight: 125 ponzes

Eyes:  One green eye, one glass eye

Hair: White

Skin:  Pale

Build:  Soft and lean, as one might expect from a noble who rarely has to do heavy lifting

Scars: No right arm, forehead scar, no right eye, bullet wound above left breast, stretch marks, various others I am certain I am forgetting

Tattoos/Marks:  N/A

At First Glance (+5)

❀ Statuesque, very stiff and posed

❀ Strange aether radiates from the woman, something feels off

❀ Fashionista, she takes her wardrobe incredibly seriously

❀ Resting bitch face to the extreme, usually looks done with everything.

❀ Thick old Ishgardian accent

FACTS —

Occupation: On paper, she is a piano teacher and occasional performer at establishments.  Off the books, she deals in art, antiquities and various high end products, moving them between one point to the other (She’s a fence)

Specialities: Musically gifted

Skills:  A surprisingly skilled diplomat for such a stand offish person, occasionally she will use her aether but she is extraordinarily bad at it.

PROFICIENCY —

Education: The best in Ishgardian tutors, finishing school, formal music training

Favored Weapon(s): Pistol she carries in her left boot

Secondary Weapon(s):  N/A

Magic Abilities: Really shitty thaumaturge

Magic Strengths: When she does use aether, she mostly resorts to ice

RELATIONS —

Sexual Preference: Heterosexual, almost exclusively into male duskwights

Romantic Identification:  Monogamous

Relationship Status: Partnered, though she doesn't tell many people

Sweet on: Jeannot Fondebrouder, once again, doesn't tell many peoole

Alignment:  Chaotic Neutral

Allies: Her family, and a handful of close associates. Also Jaliqai Gharl, perhaps the one person she will openly call a friend

Enemies:  Faustine Silmontaix, losing ground with House Dzemael quickly, House Dupont, Hennoix Lemieux

FAMILY —

Maternal: Faustine Silmontaix. First born daughter of famed Ishgardian Composer Chevallier Dupont, terrible disposition. She blames Elphanse for nearly every wrong in her life, and oversaw seeing her daughter disowned for several turns.

Patrental:   Hilairmonte Silmontaix.  Second born of House Silmontaix, sharp eyed businessman who smuggled illegal goods into Ishgard with a nod from the Church when the gates were closed.  Now retired.

Siblings: Delanse Silmontaix, twin, deceased. Alandiel Silmontaix, cousin but raised practically as sisters. Syluss Koelian, considered her brother and her lifeline.

Mentor:  Chevallier Dupont took to personally training his granddaughter until his untimely death.

Associates: Sela Wyssrael, the investment.

MENTALITY —

Social Level: Having been born and raised in Ishgardian Houses, she knows how to play the role of a socialite and will when it is required.

Optimistic View(s): lolno

Pessimistic View(s): She believes everyone is out for their own good, with very few exceptions.

One  Positive Personality Trait:  Loyal, once she believes you to be close she will murder (sometimes literally) for you.

One Negative Personality Trait: Stubborn

One Personality Warning: She can be racist. While slowly the tides are changing, being raised in Ishgard has had a lasting impact on her.

Random Quirk: She clicks her tongue when she is annoyed

Hobbies: Reading journals, transcribing music, fishing

Addictions: I guess alcohol. Also lots of drugs.

Habits:  Drinking, smoking, spending to excess

Pleasures: Sitting alone in a room with a glass of wine and her piano or flute, getting duskwights to buy her drinks

Appreciates (List 5+)

❀ Classically trained musicians

❀ Gossip

❀ Tomatoes

❀ Wine

❀ Duskwights

Dislikes (List 5+)

✿ Non Ishgardians

✿ Ishgardians

✿ High Society

✿ Charitable giving without having them work for it

✿ Au Ra

Strengths (List 5+)

❀ Musical abilities (this has been on the list now like a million times)

❀ Good eye for unrefined talent.

❀ Willing to help people help themselves, if she believes you are worth the time she will have no issue investing in betterment for others.

❀ Soft spot for children.  

❀ Charming… when she has to be.

Weaknesses (List 5+)

✿ Impulsive

✿ Quick to anger

✿ Will hold grudges and seek revenge to ridiculous degrees when she believes she has been wronged

✿ Impatient.

✿ Stubborn. So very, very stubborn.

Fears (List 5+)

✿ Dragons.

✿ Anything happening to her children.

✿ Abandonment.

✿ Physical imperfections, you know, worse than she already has.

✿ Death before her children are grown.

FAVORITES ––

Favorite Food(s): Tomatoes

Favorite Drink(s):  Red wine, whiskey

Favorite Scent(s): Pine

Favorite Colors: White and gold

TRIVIA -

❀ Eao has 6 children!  One bastard, one set of triplets, and two adopted.

❀ The father of her first born daughter is a bit of a mystery.  She looks the spitting image of her mother, though when close to the main retainer Eao has on hand, there is slight resemblance.

❀ She grew up in a home that spoke old Ishgardian over the common tongue.

❀ She attempted to kill the man she was originally arranged to marry, and lost her titles because of it. She was able to gain her titles back by baiting the man and more or less framing him.

❀ During the first turn she was without her titles, she moonlighted as a Limsan torch singer and played music for tips.

❀ She has been married twice, the first a poor decision made on impulse after a night of drinking, the second a man she cared deeply for.  Her second husband was killed in the line of duty, though rumors circulate that she ordered a hit on him.  

OOC -

Server:  Balmung

Timezone: CST

Mun:  It me?

Experience:  I have been roleplaying in FFXIV for almost 3 years now, and in some capacity online for over twenty three years (Yes I am old)

Type of RP:  Intrigue is my jam! Dark and Mature themes are A++. Though really, I am down for most things, if my trash elf strikes your fancy hit me up and lets plot!

Looking for:  Rivals, associates, students, criminals in need of a fence, I mean you could try to be her friend but it won’t be easy?

Tagged by: @chidorifarcloud​

Tagging: @duskwightwoodsman​ @fondebrodeur​ @juste-xiv​ @nebula1984​ @zoetic-grimoire​

#elphanse silmontaix #tagged meme

[chryseis]

25 bookish facts about me! I was tagged by @violaeade ♡

1. Found families and ensemble casts are my favourite things! Especially when they go hand-in-hand.

2. When I was in grade 5 our teacher made us keep these ‘reading logs’. You had to record everything you read and how long you read. If you didn’t read the minimum weekly amount (I think it was half an hour or something), you received a 15 minutes detention on Friday. Even though I read all the time, I was-- for some reason-- really against filling out the sheet. I spent a lot of Fridays in detention in 2005. 3. One of the times I did fill out my log was after I read Art Spiegelman’s Maus I and II for the first time. This same teacher refused to count them because they were ‘picture books’. I got detention for not reading enough ‘real books’ that week. She really sucked. Call out post @ Ms. Stockton. 4. My go-to favourite book is The Secret History. 5. Shortly after The Goldfinch came out, I served this handsome guy at work who was holding a copy. I told him that I hadn’t read it yet, but that I loved The Secret History, and we chatted for a bit. A few weeks later he came back  and asked me if I remembered him. I said yes, and he asked if I’d read The Goldfinch yet. I said no, and he took his copy out of his bag and... gave it to me. He started talking about his favourite parts, and a few of his criticisms, and how he hoped I’d like it. I was speechless. When I went home that night, I started it immediately. It was kind of beat up, as if it was a couple decades old, instead of a couple months. I never saw him again, but I hope he’s doing amazing. 

6. The one tattoo I have is book related (a ley line, from The Raven Cycle), and most of the future ones I get will probably have the same bookish theme. I’m currently thinking about one that is a bit of a Lynburn Legacy/In Other Lands crossover. 7. I always, always have a book in my bag. If I don’t it’s because it’s an e-book on my phone. 8. I love book signings! I’ve met Scott Westerfeld 3 times, Holly Black, Cassandra Clare, and Justine Larbelestier twice, and Sarah Rees Brennan and Suzanne Collins once. 9. I travelled from Toronto to Montreal last month (a seven hour bus ride out of province) to go to Sarah Rees Brennan’s book club and signing. I booked a cheap hotel for a night, and a round trip bus. That was extra, even for me, but her writing is incredibly important to me, and she’s such an awesome person. It was honestly one of the greatest two days of my life. 10. The second most extra thing I’ve done for a book signing was in 2010 or 2011 when Suzanne Collins came to Toronto. The event was free, but ticketed, and so my friend and I lined up outside the bookstore at 4:30 AM the morning they were releasing the tickets. It was freezing, but worth it. We were third and fourth in line, and a ton of people started showing up not to long after we got there.

11. Another bad school story: My teacher in grade 1 & 2 had ‘book bins’ that kids could read from. The thing was, everyone could only read from the bins with their names on it. We were grouped by reading level, so basically the kids with the ‘lowest’ reading level in the first bin were publicly shamed?? The bin with the ‘highest’ reading level was the last one, and mine was the only name on it. I was so smug about it at the time, but holy shit, that’s a terrible thing to do to kids.  12. For Halloween 2000 I was a tiny, pixie-haired Harry Potter. My mum had read the books to me, and I was obsessed. The film series hadn’t started yet, and no one knew who I was. Tiny Hannah was so sad! 13. My mum has worked in art galleries my whole life, so I was dragged to contemporary art shows through out my childhood. I’d frustrate her sometimes because she’d try to get me to look at the art, but I’d have my nose in a book. I think she eventually started to think it was pretty funny. 14. I think the first book I absolutely fell in love with was The Thief Lord in 2004. 15. I rarely read contemporary fiction unless I’ve heard amazing things. I’m a SF/F kind of girl. Except... 16. I’m in a book club! Long story of how I joined, but I’m the youngest by at least six years, and they all like contemporary fiction and romance, so that’s what I read... Still, they’re all really lovely women, and we have nice wine-and-potlucks. 17. I always get nervous starting thrillers/mysteries because the endings often don’t quite pay off. On the same note, I get super excited when they do! 18. I hate leaving books/series unfinished. I try my best to find something (a character, a plot detail) that helps me make it to the end, but sometimes I just can’t. 19. (I had to abandon Mara Dyer part way through book 1, ToG after book 3, and ACoTaR after book 1... I know people love those series, but they just aren’t for me). 20. The first book series I ever wrote fanfic for was The Chronicles of Ancient Darkness. The stories are long-lost, but that series was stunning. 21. I was absolutely obsessed with the Warrior Cat books between 2003 and 2006. 22. And even more obsessed with Twilight between 2006 and 2009. I loved Alice so much. 23. My Goodreads TBR is currently 556 books long, and always growing. 24. I want to be published on day, so bad. 25. I never shut up about books, so shout out to my friends for dealing with that. Particularly @modesthubris​ lmao

No pressure to do this, but I’m tagging @kayascodelorio @mynamesdrstuff @modesthubris​ @hotdamnilton @ava-lavender @libraryleopard @displayheartcode​​ @roryglimore @alekszova​ and anyone who wants to do this!

#this took me a while to finish haha #i tried to tag a handful of people i know are fairly book-ish? #about me