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yanderu-deredere · 8 months

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THIS IS SO UNHINGED AND YOU TOTALLY DONT HAVE TO IF YOU CANT OR DONT WANT TO BUT i kind of 👉👈 have a hand kink and so 👉👈 could you like 👉👈 describe your ocs hands? and also can i be 👉👈 anon hehe

a/n: lmao the fact that the hand kink as has so many hands is so so funny but also yes! i am lowk into hands too so this was super fun to write! thank you so much for this wonderful ask! i also didn't put any warnings cus like... it's just descriptions of hands?

eun-jeong yoo ★ profile

Eun-jeong's fingers are very thin and willowy but his entire hand overall is very big. He also keeps his nails a medium-length. Not long enough to pop any gloves at the vet but they get longer because he forgets to clip them.

Unfortunately, since he was burned by hot oil as a child, his entire hand and a good amount of his arms are covered in burn scars. They make the skin of his hands look much redder/browner than the rest of his body. The scars are also very wrinkly but soft. He often covers them up with long sleeves and leather gloves.

liam arieh ★ profile

Liam's hands are big but his fingers are neither thin nor thick. Kind of just the right amount LOL A fair amount of his fingers are calloused from playing the guitar growing up. He keeps his nails trimmed but, sometimes, he's too busy to remember when he should be trimming them. Other than that, his hand is comfortable to hold.

He doesn't have any scars on his hands or anything but he does have a fine-line tattoo of the face of Medusa on the back of one hand and of Arachne on the back of the other hand. They're both inked in red.

gavin byrne ★ profile

Gavin's hands are small LOL He has fingers that are a bit on the thicker side but the length of them are a bit shorter than average. He has a scar on the side of his hand from one time he was misbehaving with a knife. He ended up knicking himself and getting chastised by his parents. He bites his nails so they're always super short.

Other than that, there's no callouses or anything. His hands are relatively soft and smooth. He does have a tattoo on the back of his hands though. It's a fine-line tattoo of a hawk on one side and a robin on the other side. When he puts his hands together, the two of them look like they're about to face off. They're both in vivid colour.

ayaka yamato ★ profile

Ayaka has small hands too LOL . Her fingers are short and aren't exactly thick but they are on the chubbier side. She does have callouses from playing violin and cello growing up but she doesn't have any scars since she's always been very careful.

Her nails are always overly decorated in acrylic. They're not super long because she needs to text and stuff but her nails are longer than most people's nails. She asks her nail artist to put charms and gems on them so they clink sometimes when she moves them around.

ryuunosuke yamamoto ★ profile

Ryuu's hands are fucked up LOL. He has large hands with thick long fingers. He's played around with weaponry for so long that he has various callouses and scars from all of them; slashes from accidents with knives, raised bumps from times where he'd accidentally get pinched by a reloading gun, etc etc.

He often wears colourful band aids on his hands, just like on his face. He doesn't like looking at the scars (despite how much fun he's had getting them) so they're often hidden behind so many brightly designed band aids

fujio watanabe ★ profile

Fujio has a big palm but thick fingers that are a bit on the shorter side. Like Ryuu's hands, his hands are also very scarred. A lot of them are ones he has on his fingers from jamming them into things or getting them stuck places LOL A couple of his fingers are also a bit crooked from the way he'd broken them because they weren't set properly.

He has a lot of callouses from the years of heavy-lifting and construction work he had to do before he settled on his job at the Creamery. He also keeps his nails especially short because of the heavy-lifting he often had to do and the habit basically just stuck

gawain byrne ★ profile

Gawain's hands are long and lithe, with a medium sized palm and medium sized nails. Usually, he paints his nails black LOL but not for any other reason than he liked the aesthetic. Sometimes, he'd even go so far as to give them a white french tip. He often wears various gold rings to decorate his fingers too.

He has no scars on his hands or callouses but he does have a series of tattoos on his fingers. They're black vines wrapping around his middle finger, thumb and on his left pinky. The vines don't reach past his first knuckle and they match the vine tattoos he has on his torso.

ryouta watanabe ★ profile

Ryouta has very long fingers and a relatively large palm. His fingers are on the thinner side, though. He keeps his nails trimmed just because he types a lot and longer nails are a pain in the ass to type with.

He has a significant amount of callouses just because, as a young child, he had to do a lot of physical jobs to make ends meet. He doesn't have any sort of scars though. He does wear a ring on one finger but it's not any sort of significant jewellery. He just likes fiddling with it when he's bored.

yeong-bae kigal ★ profile

Yeong-bae has large hands with thick long fingers. He keeps his nails on the shorter side but not trimmed to the finger and like they're really almost obsessively well maintained (by him LOL). He often wears a pastel green because that's his signature colour on the band.

He has crescent shaped scars on his palms from his bad habit of digging his own nails into his skin when anxious. He also has callouses from playing the guitar and the bass all his life.

soren kumar ★ profile

Soren's hand is on the medium size and length but his fingers are a bit on the thicker side. He keeps his nails very well trimmed and as short as possible. He puts a cute almost coral pink nail polish on it, both because it's his signature colour in the band and because he really likes the colour.

His hands are both scarred and calloused from all the years he's been playing instrument after instrument, and from all of the mishaps he'd gotten from learning how to play them. Soren also often wears various rings on his fingers, in various styles and colours.

emm fiala ★ profile

Emm's hands are large and long and thick. She keeps her nails extremely short because growing them out would often lead to problems like breaking a nail or chipping them. She doesn't wear rings but she does have a tattoo of a rose on both the backs of her hands, with it's vines spreading out and wrapping around some of her fingers.

She has a lot of scars and callouses from her years of just working in construction and from all the scavenging she does on her routes around the abandoned factory town. Notable scars are a big one on her palm she got from some glass as well as a gnarly one on her pointer finger when she got it caught in something.

casimir fiala ★ profile

Casimir has the hands of a surgeon LOL His palms are definitely on the larger side but his fingers are long and lithe. The kind of fingers that are good with doing detailed work. He keeps his fingers on the medium side but doesn't like trimming them too much just because he likes the way they look. He always paints his nails pitch black because of the same reason.

He doesn't have any callouses or any tattoos of any sort. He'll wear his wedding ring, of course, but that's really it. He does have maybe a few slashing scars from the years he'd learned how to hone his knife skills and from some rather stubborn meals he'd captured.

mel lowell ★ profile

Mel's hands are of medium size and length but his fingers are very thick. He keeps his nails as short as possible because he hates it when he gets dirt under them. It's like the most uncomfortable feeling in the world for him LOL

He's lived his entire life in the woods so his hands are rough and scarred. A lot of the scars are just slashes he'd gotten from getting scratched or from mishandling a knife.

isamu lowell ★ profile

Isamu has hands proportionate to his height; very big palms and long fingers of medium thickness. Definitely wants to keep his nails short but forgets to trim them so they're kind of medium length. Doesn't take very good care of them though LOL

He does have a couple of scars from working with metal and with cars. Same goes for his callouses; he works a lot with cars and motorcycles so his hands have gotten rough over the years.

leonard lowell ★ profile

Leonard has very pretty hands. They're on the smaller side, with longer willowy fingers. He takes very good care of his nails and, if not coloured, they'd at least have transparent nail polish on them.

Unfortunately, though they look pretty on the outside, his palms are very fucked up. There's overlapping slashes over his palms from his years of getting hit there as punishment. He doesn't mind them but he's aware of how bad they look. He also has callouses from working around the cabin and from his life before he started living with Mel.

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random-meme-bot · 4 months

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WE WANT SOME FUN FACTS ABOUT OUR QUEEN ELLY >:DD

Thanks for the ask, glad to see you're enjoying my characters.💜

A few random Fun facts about Elly, some of these were mentioned on a few tags, others are one's I came up with and never posted, there's even some that I was gonna reveal on a one shot crossover with Tangle Tower i'm making that I added here because I don't know when I'm gonna have time to finish it.

Elly is a trans, she named hershelf Elishabeth as a reference to Pirates of the Caribbean. (Which yes, is actually where I got the name.

Fun behind the scenes fact: The name I originally choose for her was "Elaine" in reference to Monkey Island, but I changed it because "Elly" didn't sound quite right as a diminutive of "Elaine".

While her design and overall idea, has changed quite a bit since her original drawin, her design is inspired by "Jenny LeClue"

Her glasses being completely opaque except for the pupils are to reference how she is a middle ground between alive people who I always draw as just pupils, and ghosts who also have eyes.)

She is also aro/ace and absolutly terrible at noticing when someone has a crush on her.

She once woke up in the middle of the night only to find Trucy staring directly at her, since then she always make sure to sleep facing the wall...

While not shown in any drawings due to the long hair, she does have piercings on the ears.

She loves coffee, this is a byproduct of her always staying up longer than she should.

She sometimes falls asleep while working on the bookstore, Dan will usually just posses her to take care of the customers and leave her notes about it.

She has more than once used her ability to see ghost by asking some ghost roaming the school to give her the answers to an exam she hadn't studied for (some people ghosts would do anything just to get acknowledgement from a living person...)

She loves Jazz music and any song with trumpets, saxophone, trombone... (I have a drawing I want to make of her as the "jazz for your soul" meme)

Not gonna give any context just jet, but she does go to a psychologist.

She dosen't like the scar she got from the car accident that gave her the ability to see ghost which is why she dosen't own any clothing that would reveal the abdomen (short shirts, most swimsuits...)

Despite the fact that she isn't usually at home and when she is she stays in her room, she does have a good relationship with her parents.

Despite the fact that it has been years, she still misses her old house.

She is friends with some ghosts that roam around the school, this has resulted in every alive person in the school thinking she talks to hershelf.

Despite On account of her ability to see ghosts, she has a big fear of corpses.

She can handle pressure, but she will hyperventilate when she starts to get too overwhelmed, Dan is helping her so she can deal with it if it happens.

Her hair is uncombable, it dosen't matter what she tries it always goes back to it's messy form.

Favorite station is Autumn.

Favorite color is Purple.

#Ask #Hexes on the Shelves #HotS #Elly HotS #Elisabeth Roberts #Elly Roberts

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0oolookitsme · 2 years

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Carving Pumpkins and Making a Memory

Type- One-Shot

Verse- Artist!Harry x Housewife(tuition teacher)!Y/n

Warnings- None, just fluff <3

Word Count- 3.3k

A/n- Happy Halloween in advance everyone!! Here's a cozy fic because I couldn't write a spooky one lmao. Hope you enjoy!

All of the Halloween decoration was up in the house, spread everywhere as if this house was made to be lived in during the spooky month only. All those cute white ceramic ghosts that Y/n had thrifted were up on her over-flowing bookshelves in the living room while a black-coloured hand-shaped candle that looked scary when burning was placed in Harry’s art room- a fact he wasn’t very fond of. He remembers her excuse being that their baby, Opal, doesn’t crawl in their considering the fact that the door to it is always closed and when it is open, she’s fast asleep. And that if Opal were to see, she’ll be scarred.

The leaves outside have started turning a tinge of red and yellow from their edges. All the animals seem to be scattering around to collect food and get ready for the winter season.

Y/n, who had entered the kitchen to make tea and warm up some milk, is now enchanted by a Squirrel collecting seeds from the tree branch that hangs over the kitchen window.

Just yesterday evening, when she had gone to pluck out some flowers from one of the flower beds in the park right in front of her apartment, she had accidently ripped out a clutch of soil by pulling on a stubborn stem- and while she had been mad at the dirt on her skirt, she had also been mesmerized by the sight of more than ten nuts and seeds stored in there.

She can only hope that it’s the same squirrel in whose storage of food she had added some more seeds. And that the storage was 0f a squirrel only. She’d just like to believe that better than it belonging to a naughty kid.

She’d also like to believe that it’s Harry who has woken up and is padding around the house and not some ghost she accidently summoned or jinxed.

“Good morning.”

She’s sure that it’s his voice which is sounding -unusually- very much awake. Turning to face him, she eyes him suspiciously, observes his wet hair and comes to a conclusion that he’s showered and ready for the day. “Let me guess …because of ‘two days before Halloween’?”

“Mhm,” he nods, encircling his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss onto her lips which are pulled into a smile. He can taste her cinnamon flavoured lip balm, making him crave the first batch of cookies of Fall he had baked yesterday with the two people who make him a family man- his 10months old daughter and his ever-lovely wife.Yes, Opal had sprinkled a little too much cinnamon powder on them, but they still ended up tasting good!

He steps away after pressing one final kiss on her now dry lips, that perfect flavour now on his lips. Moving to her side, he also peeks a look at the scenery outside through their window, taking a cautious look at her face after a few seconds. “Don’t you think it’s the perfect day to carve pumpkins?”

Closing the lid of the electric water warmer, she turns to look him dead in the eyes. “Don’t pretend that the weather made you think that, H,” she dead-pans, her eyes falling in splits while a smile creeps up the corners of her lips.

His eyes on the other hand, instantly light up at her light and good mood, laughing out breathily in relief. “Please! Don’t you think it’d be so fun to do that with honeybug!” He tries to convince her fully, seeing she’s halfway there by herself, and also referring to their baby as ‘honeybug.’ That’s a nick name he’s sure she wouldn’t appreciate when she’s a little older and understands things better.

“You did not bring her into this you knob-head!” She whisper-yells, stabbing his chest with her index finger.

Mumbling two small ‘ow’s, he immediately continues: “I’ll take that as a, yes?” Cheering when she pulls on a smug face. “Should we do it right now?” He asks excitedly.

“why not,” she answers just as giddily. “I’ll bring Opal.”

It only takes her a few strides before she’s opening her bedroom door and seeing a giggling Opal, playing and trying to reach the toy hanging down the middle of her crib. She still hisses in pain at seeing that new-bigger crib that destroyed their budget for the month of August. She doesn’t know why they didn’t just buy a bigger one in the first place- maybe it was because they never thought of her growing up ‘not enough to have her own bed but enough to not sleep in a crib’ and maybe it was also because she was feeding so well that she was growing up faster and healthily.

Though all that pain sweats off of her when y/n’s eyes land on Opal once again. Her flushed out cheeks and the two small milk-teeth that have grown in the center of her upper gum make her look so cute that y/n could literally dress her up as a bunny for the Halloween.

Wait. That’s a such a cool idea! She’s got the two teeth at front, she’s growing up fast- referring to tall, so she can be that rabbit from Winnie the Pooh! Holy-

A squeak from Opal snatches y/n’s attention and she’s almost running to cradle her frame in her arms. “Good morning,” she greets her, rubbing their noses together gently as she walks back into the kitchen to discuss the outfit idea she just had with Harry first, and then plan out the pumpkin carving. Just as she raises her eyes to see Harry, her eyes meet the sight of paint brushes and paint boxes -black and orange specifically- spread out on the kitchen slab.

“And what is all this?” She asks, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oh, I’ve planned something, come here,” he urges her, motioning his hand in his direction for her to come to him. When she does, he bends down to presses a kiss onto their daughter’s cheeks and then straightens back up, looking over at y/n to make sure he still has her attention- which he definitely does. “I was thinking about painting Opal’s hands with black paint, and then placing them onto the sides of that small white pumpkin, then placing our painted hands below hers …that’d look spooky and make a good memory to look back onto, yeah?’

“That’s such a cool idea, but I’m sure we’ll need to be careful with the hand placements or else we might ruin it,” stating she nods along with Harry. “Also, I had an idea too. I saw her teeth and thought we can dress her up as the rabbit from Winnie the Pooh!”

That makes him laugh- laugh out loud. “Don’t embarrass her like that!” He squeaks out, calming from laughing. “But she’d look so much cuter, so we can surely do that… maybe do her hair in two pigtails too as in the bunny’s ears!”

She gasps in ‘oh that’s such an awesome idea’ and high-fives him as they both grin over each other’s quite impressive ideas.

“’Kay so I’ll feed her, you start off by carving out your pumpkin and please take the seeds outside of it, I need to dry some of them,” she requests as she pours in half a spoon of honey in the milk bottle and mixes it with the same.

Humming in response, he takes out the first orange pumpkin he sees when he opens the lower cabinet and places it on the dining table, beside the big knife.

A cold breeze pushes into the warm environment inside their home through the open window and instinctively, y/n takes the shawl which she had hung on the back of the chair and drapes it over Opal’s back. Leaning to her side a little bit, she also closes the window to keep Harry from catching a cold, which is very easy for him- as easy as it’s a literal game of his left hand.

The only noise filling the void right now is the sound of Harry plunging a knife in and out of the pumpkin and honeybug sucking on the …nipple thingy of her milk bottle. Y/n isn’t sure if the other two can hear the sound of her lovesick heart beating, but she surely can as it pumps blood in her arteries as dreamily as it can.

Harry on the other hand, puts his right hand inside the pumpkin without any problem and takes out the seeds with all the other wet stuff sticking on them. Putting it all on a plate, he moves towards the sink right beside where the slab ends, and y/n sits with a pink cheeked baby they made. Slowly he washes out the pumpkin from inside, knowing the stickiness inside grosses his wife out and don’t even get him started on how much the flies wandering atop the pumpkin infuriated her that time they didn’t wash it’s inside out.

Considering the fact that Opal’s getting droopy, Y/n moves to take the toy that she had left on the dining table last night while trying to get her to sleep and shakes it over the baby’s head- the sound of balls moving inside trapping her attention. Just as y/n leaves the toy in her hand, her mouth is left open ajar and she puts the bottle aside, placing Opal on the dining table.

Running in the room, she grabs two pillows and comes back to place them behind Opal so that if she were to crawl or roll, the pillow would stop her for enough time in which either her or Harry will be able to get ahold of her.

Taking her phone out of charging, she clicks on Spotify and puts on the ‘sitting by the fire’ playlist she had found just two days ago, feeling very happy when the ‘30mins add free listening’ add pulls up on the screen.

Bumping her shoulder with Harry’s she kisses the dimple that pops out before turning around to take out another pumpkin for herself to carve. Although the moment she bends down to just that, she feels a sneaky slap on her butt followed by an immediate uncontrollable laughter escaping Harry’s nose.

“Seriously, H?” She mumbles, pushing on his butt with hers and unintentionally making him laugh harder.

Dismissing her actions, Harry moves onto carving out the second eye. “You know my dad had named me pumpkin to talk to me when I was still in my mum’s womb. But when I grew up to be a pumpkin lover, he really thought he had cast a spell on me or something,” he laughed after telling her that story for the thousandth time. He just thinks it’s so fun and it’s hard not to think so when she laughs at that every time.

A few high-pitched squeaks are heard from Opal too, causing Harry to gaze at her in awe, while Y/n just laughs at the cute sound.

“Do you have a story about anything paranormal happening to you?” He asks her out of blue when she finally comes back with a same orange pumpkin but slightly bigger. “I don’t and that’s so upsetting to me,” he continues.

Listening to him complain, she chuckles. “I beg your pardon in advance for the disappointment my answer’s going to cause you, H… Because no, I don’t.” He just sighs in defeat as a response.

But jerking, he quickly re-treats and snatches y/n’s phone. Pausing the playlist, he searches for podcasts that tell ghost stories and have convincing ratings.

“Ooh, why didn’t I come up with that?” Y/n meekly says, peaking at the screen from beside him.

He scoffs and frames a smirk on his lips, earning himself a smack on his back from her because of that. Finally settling on a podcast, he presses play on the episode named: ‘Food at a Funeral.’ He places the phone back where it was earlier and fixes his attention on Y/n’s pumpkin, who’s got one eye carved out. Seeing her busy with that, he also fixes his attention back on the eye he was carving on his pumpkin- but not before tickling Opal on a few spots before she ignores him and goes back to playing with her toy.

Once again, the family gets surrounded by some comfortable silence as they be alone with each other.

Not even one of them is listening to podcast, but it’s still nice to have some background noise- no offense. Just as Harry finishes with his pumpkin he asks y/n if she wants some help, but when she dismissed it, he goes to sit on the chair and takes Opal in his lap, playing with her tiny hands and feet, pretending to take a bite of them every once in a while- making her squeak and giggle loudly.

When he starts massaging her back lightly, his mind starts reminding him of that time when Opal was still in y/n’s belly, and she had started kicking by the midst of sixth month. He would try to hold her feet or fist with his fingers every time they would appear on the thin skin of her bump, but she would take her limbs back in- it was as if they used to play cat and mouse. Sometimes it got so intense that Harry had to brush his hands soothingly alongside her bump to get Opal to calm down.

And sometimes Y/n would lie about pain just to get him to massage her anywhere. He even told her that she could just ask, and he would do it, but she continued to lie anyways. It was like a strange fetish of hers during those nine precious months.

Sliding the knife onto the slab, Y/n drags out a chair and takes a seat on it, seeming as if a vampire just sucked a little too much blood out of her. “I’m done, H. You paint her palms, I’ll hold her, so she doesn’t smack you or herself with her painted hands, yeah?”

Harry stands up, placing Opal in the center again before going over to the counter to get the paint and the brushes ready. “You want a massage tonight?” He asks her, not facing her due to sudden shyness.

“Oh my god is that even a question? It’d be so nice if you do it wherever we’ll place these pumpkins. Imagine an earthly scented candle flickering inside a pumpkin while you massage my back. Sounds like heaven to me,” she says, ending it with a dreamy sigh, making harry chuckle on the other side.

“C’mon, just a few more minutes and then you can let your muscles rest,” he encourages her, moving towards Opal to get her near the edge, the pumpkin and themselves.

Getting up like an old man, she goes to hold the little one’s upper arms, placing a kiss on the top of her head. A wide grin plasters itself on both her and Harry’s faces when he starts painting her palms and she starts squeaking and laughing heartily, probably because of the feeling of the wet brush tickling her soft-tiny palms.

Y/n was still holding Opal as Harry placed her palms on the pumpkin, right in the middle of the sides that can be seen. It takes time to do the same with the second hand on the other side, but once it’s over; they make sure to wash her hands properly before moving onto themselves.

It doesn’t them much time to paint their palms and press them onto the cold surface of the pumpkin, surprised that their hand even fit on that small one. Y/n placed her hands above Opal’s hands and Harry placed his’ below Opal’s, making the print seem like butterfly wings instead of a monstery-pumpkin with three hands.

It looks cute though, so Harry will just carve out its eyes in ink-drop shape and let it be.

Once it’s all done, y/n realized that they indeed lost track of time again. She quickly mashes some banana with some milk and honey in a small bowl and let’s Harry feed it to Opal, while she quickly prepares some spiced up Oats for her and him, feeling absolutely no energy to make anything else and he did feel like having something with spices in it anyways, so.

Stirring the almost done meal, she glances back and sees Opal sleeping with her mouth open, cradled in Harry’s arms. “I’ll just put her in the crib,” he informs her before getting up cautiously and moving out. These are the time when she feels like time is moving by too fast.

She lets the smell of spices fog her mind as she serves it into two bowls and places them on the dinner table, placing a jar of water and two glasses alongside and Harry appears back just in time to start the dinner with her or else she’s sure she would’ve started it without him.

“I’ll place the pumpkins. You just give me the candles ‘kay? You can sit and come down from the high till then. After that, your muscles shall be massaged.” Harry suggests her, taking both of their bowls and placing them in the sink while chuckling.

“Aren’t you tired too, though?”

“You’re a low energy person love, I’ll just need to sleep, and I’ll be up like same in the morning.”

She hums, reaching for a box above the fridge which hoarded all the candles and hands it to him after some struggle. “Thank you,” she appreciates him and pecks his lips before going in her room to change her clothes and brush her teeth.

Harry decides he’ll just massage her in their bedroom so that she can pass out without any worry of getting up and having to switch rooms. He goes and places a pumpkin on his bedside table, so that it doesn’t burn in front of her face and not let her sleep because of the bright light. He’ll just put it away when he too goes to sleep, simple.

He places the other one in the kitchen, thinking she’ll love the smell the earthly scent in the morning. He leaves it in the center of the dining table before rushing to go brush his teeth as well- forgetting about the small pumpkin left on the slab itself.

Doing just one round of brushing, he scrapes his tongue, splashes some water on his face and dries it out by y/n’s towel. It just smells so much like those good-smelling creams she uses, seeing she does her skincare at nighttime.

Coming back out of the bathroom, he huffs when he sees her passed on his side of the bed. Will he be able to move her without waking her up? Cause she has this nasty problem that if she wakes up once, she won’t sleep back easily and won’t let you either.

Before anything else, he very carefully rolls her onto her side, which leaves enough space for him to fit and sleep in- and well, she does roll over so far at night anyways. Then, once inside the blanket, he blows out the candle of the pumpkin on the table, sure that she was smelling its scent and just fell asleep while at that.

Cursing under his breath, he gets out of the bed just as carefully as he entered it and goes to press a goodnight kiss on Opal’s forehead. Then, with a fear that he’ll for sure wake y/n up this time, he gets back in bed and shakily lets his body relax when she doesn’t even as far as stir. Swinging his arm over her waist he moves closer to her back and presses a kiss on the side of her exposed neck, wishing her goodnight and muttering a gentle ‘I love you.’

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles fluff #dad!harry #harry styles au #harry styles fic rec #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #<3333

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solitaireships · 5 months

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Marks

So a fun fact about this fic is originally I was going to have this come out before Fantasies bcs it takes place earlier in the timeline of Mark and Shepard's relationship, so if you've been keeping up with my one shots for them, this is set between Bad Idea, Right? and Fantasies. I think a lot about the scar that Mark has on his chest bcs they don't really talk about what caused that in canon, so have a little hc moment about that

Rating: Teen

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1188 words

Divider by saradika

Content warning: Discussions of car accidents, death, hospitals, and severe physical injuries

Shepard’s sitting in bed, waiting for Hoffman. Why he always takes so long getting ready for bed is beyond her, but she doesn’t mind waiting. It’s not like he gets a lot of space right now— that’s one of the many downsides of being on the government's most wanted list— so she’ll let him take whatever moments he wants.

But she’s glad when he comes into the bedroom, ready to go to bed with her.

Tonight Hoffman opted to sleep in nothing but a pair of black gym shorts. Shepard always likes getting to see him shirtless. There’s dark hair across his chest and his belly, and his love handles peek out over the waistband of his shorts. It’s always a nice view, but now her eyes are drawn more than usual to the scar that goes down the middle of his chest. She’s noticed it plenty of times, of course, but for some reason she finds her attention locking on it now.

Hoffman doesn’t talk much about his scars. The only one that he’s told Shepard about is the one that cuts across his cheek, stretching from the right corner of his lips up to his ear in jagged lines. That he got from a reverse bear trap that tore his cheek open as he tried to escape, stitching the wound up himself. When he talked about that the first time, Shepard wished she was there to stitch him up so he wouldn’t have had to do that alone. But then she reminded herself that’s an overly sweet thought to have given how he's talking about having part of his face ripped open.

Hoffman can handle himself. But Shepard does have to wonder what the story is behind his other scars. There's the one on his chest, and his back is littered with several smaller scars.

Hoffman settles down on the bed, the mattress shifting a bit under his weight. He pulls the blankets aside, climbing into bed and then getting under the covers. His chest is still visible over the top of the blankets, though, leaving Shepard’s eyes to wander again to the scar.

“Hey,” Shepard says.

“Hey yourself,” he replies.

“How did you get that scar on your chest?”

Hoffman looks at her, almost surprised. She was probably more direct than she should have been. But her curiosity got the best of her here.

“It was back when I was a beat cop,” Hoffman says. “Got involved in a bad car accident when I was pursuing a suspect, some metal from the wreck got me pretty good on the chest.”

“God. That must’ve gotten close to your heart.” Shepard cuddles close to Hoffman’s side, letting him put an arm over her shoulders.

His hand rests on her back, massaging it through her t-shirt. “Yeah, but obviously it missed. Still hurt like hell, though. Wearing shirts was rough for a while even after I left the hospital with it healing.”

“I bet.”

“No joke about how I should keep my shirt off all the time?” Hoffman teases.

Shepard rolls her eyes but says, “I’m so sorry, I think you should never wear a shirt ever again, Hoffy.”

“Thank you.”

Shepard shifts under his arms, propping herself up with one hand on his chest. She leans over him to reach over and turn off the lamp, leaving them in the dark. But even through the dark, she can still see Hoffman’s scar. So as she moves back, she gives him a quick kiss on it.

She’s glad he’s still alive. She might be the only person who is. But she hates the thought of never having met him.

“What about the ones on your back?” Shepard asks, moving back to lay on her side, tucked under Hoffman’s arm.

“They’re all from the same thing,” he says. “It was a trap— the glass coffin. Think a rectangular box made out of glass and with a bunch of jagged glass shards at the bottom of it. It was part of Strahm’s test. If he got in it, he would’ve lived. Instead he shoved me in. Getting a bunch of glass stuck in my back was better than what happened to him, though.”

“Damn.”

Shepard never knows quite what to say when Hoffman talks about the traps he made. Part of her is curious, but it’s strange to hear him so casually talk about putting people in deadly situations. She doesn’t think he’s going to be a threat to anyone anytime soon— and, privately, she likes to think that she’s part of the reason behind that. But he still talks about the traps he made like he’s describing something regular, like he’s talking about something that happened at work that was part of his day-to-day.

She guesses it’s easier to talk about if you can disconnect from it. Hoffman mentioned that— John had told him that you had to leave emotions out of administering tests.

Shepard knows it’s probably equally weird that she’s glad that’s how Hoffman talks about it. It’s better than him sounding like he enjoyed every death he was responsible for, and it makes it easier for her to hear.

Maybe that’s part of why he talks about things so casually with her too. It's some attempt to not scare her.

“Getting all the glass out of my back was a pain in the ass,” Hoffman says.

“I would’ve helped you if I were there,” Shepard says. And, for some reason, she’s sure as she said it that she would have.

Hoffman laughs. “Thanks.”

He moves his arm from around Shepard, rolling onto his side so his back faces her. She takes that as the invitation it is, instantly moving to spoon him. She loves the way the two of them seem to fit together, his back pressed against her chest.

Shepard strokes one hand down his side. “You know I’d always be happy to help you, Hoffman.”

There’s a silence, and Shepard assumes that means that Hoffman’s ready to go to sleep. But then he says, “We’ve been dating for over a month. When are you going to start using my first name?”

Shepard’s hand pauses along his side for a second. If she’s honest, she never really thought about calling him his first name. It’s not that she never wanted to call him Mark, but it never felt right. He’s always just been Hoffman.

“I don’t know,” Shepard says, resuming stroking up and down his side. She presses a quick kiss to his back, her lips brushing against one of the scars there. “Do you want me to call you Mark?”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t mind if my girlfriend called me my name,” he replies.

“Okay. I love you, Mark.”

“I love you too,” Hoffman replies, and the words come off of his tongue easier now than they did even just a month ago.

“Good night.”

“Good night, Shep.”

And as she holds him in her arms, drifting slowly off to sleep, she hopes that she’ll get plenty more chances to show Hoffman— to show Mark— how much she appreciates every part of him.

#my posts #safeship #safeshipping #selfship #selfshipping #🧩#🧩 missing piece #🗝️ shepard #my writing #i love appreciating him and his body. he's so handsome #anyway here's the moment where shepard started first naming him

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ex-textura · 2 months

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I stumble in through the doors, having been a booping fiend the other day but ah hello! ;D; /)~~

My main/first tav for BG3 was an extremely sunny dispositioned, kind hearted, and optimistic half wood elf man named Hexmen Ziziaurea-Ivadaera, or simply just Hexmen Ivadaera for the sake of not having to write out an extra name ( + he more often uses his father's last name in memory of him!). Hexmen's an Oath of the Ancients turned Oathbreaker paladin who accidentally broke his oath literally at the beginning of his adventures when he unsuccessfully tried to save Lae'zel and ended up killing a tiefling ( ooc-- I was trying to hardcore commit to my actions early on with no save scumming and accidentally did a smite even though I did nonlethal attacks and oh god one of them died).

After that accident and the Oathbreaker Knight jumpscare, he promptly told Lae'zel through gritted teeth that were barely holding back a panic attack to leave, in which she did. Afterwards, his entire adventure was mildly stressful but he tried his best to uphold his old oath tenets of kindling hope and helping those in need along the way! Astarion wasn't much of a fan of the do-gooder Hexmen, Shadowheart ended up being like a sister figure to him, Wyll is like one of his best friends who's a fellow Baldurian and he ended up finding himself mutually falling for a certain Wizard of Waterdeep! Karlach and Halsin are also dear friends of his, Jaheria felt like a cool aunt friend to him, and dear lord just like Wyll he couldn't get enough of Minsc. I sadly didn't have Minthara on his run, but I do think they'd maybe understand each other's devotions, however they'd clash because of their very different beliefs and such.

Throughout his run, he was mostly Lawful Good that eventually turned into something more chaotic in the long run.

Before his time in the main campaign, he was a paladin of Lathander from Baldur's Gate! His mom's a full wood elf from the Ardeep Wood outside of Waterdeep and his father was a human man born and raised in Baldur's Gate that acted as a city guard until his untimely death. For a good portion of his early teens through adulthood he was raised only by his mother after his father's passing, and eventually as an adult he was left alone for the most part in Baldur's Gate with his father's side of the family, as his mother went off on a mid-life elf adventure on her own.

Hexmen had his human grandmother and his best friend, Lumin Sacredlight, a human variant cleric of Tyr and Selune (who is also my multiplayer tav and who his dream guardian was modeled after), for company for a while until he was scooped up by the Nautiloid while on a patrol around the temple he guarded.

- An additional handful of fun facts are that he did visit Waterdeep here and there when he was younger when he and his mom traveled to the Ardeep Wood to visit his wood elven family! I drew out an entire mini comic before of him accidentally brushing past a young Gale before! However they never formally met and didn't recognize each other when they met during the events of BG3.

- I researched so much DnD elven language for this man and some Forgotten Realms cuisine. One of his favorite snacks to have is Elven Seed Bread!

- He has such a heavy sun motif and despite being an oathbreaker, he still withholds his tenets from being an Oath of the Ancients sworn to Lathander.

- His face scar is from a duel he had with a fellow paladin trainee when he was younger-- that paladin who fought him later became an Oath of Vengeance paladin.

- I have written an ungodly amount of content for this man and have drawn him so much.

- Hexmen ended up falling for Gale! Him and Gale had such mutual pining for a long time until they eventually confessed to each other. I love these two so much-- Hexmen accepted his proposal at the end of the game and additionally moved to Waterdeep with him where they probably have a permanent magic portal somewhere in or near the tower so he can still check on his grandmother in Baldur's Gate often ( and additionally see old friends and etc). I originally thought Hexmen was going to be an Astarion romance until he pulled Gale out of the portal and yeah. Yeah… I would ramble more about their entire romance but I’m afraid that I’m going to write way too much if I get more in detail about it whE A A

- If he was a recruitable companion, you'd be able to find him face down in shallow river water near the harpies and there would be a whole thing with Tav/the Origin character needing to figure out how to wake him up via magic with arcana checks, CPR with medicine checks, pickpocketing him with stealth checks at the risk of him drawing his sword on you as the movement potentially stirrs him, or straight up just leaving him there and claiming he's dead.

- I tried to do a tactician run with him, but accidentally killed the owlbear cub due to a bug, and I ended up stopping the run because I knew and felt that Hexmen would not do that in good consciousness nor ever let that go.

- Hexmen was extremely against using the tadpoles and only used his illithid powers a grand total of maybe three times throughout the entire game. The one time he used them, he thought a goblin was just going to be quiet from his command but nope– UH– they– they died. And Hexmen turned around to the party absolutely mortified at what he had accidentally done. Safe to say that was probably one of the last times he used those powers until the Elder Brain fight.

Thank you for the chance to ramble about m’dude! ;D; God I brainrotted over him for so many months and I love him a lot whEA E A

OH MY GOD THIS MAN IS EVERYTHING HEXMEN YOU PRECIOUS SUN!!

I love how much lore you have for him omg. I can feel the love from here and it's beautiful.

Also my boy. My man. My precious guy my Auric can commiserate on the paladin struggles. That feeling when you accidentally break your oath and your heart sinks into the floor. Especially when it's something like accidentally deleting an innocent. Gawd. I'm sorry Hexmen but I still believe in your good heart.

I love the slow alignment shift. Did he become more chaotic because of the influence of the tadfools, gremlins that they are? Or was there another influence? Or maybe it just happened organically for no other reason??

HOW DID HE GET CONKED OUT BY THE HARPIES??! Is that where he landed???? My man what are you doing out here xD I want to protect you.

(the owlbear incident was just a bad dream. Never happened. Let a wizard hug the pain away)

Thank you for rambling at me about him I love him! I love a paladin and an oath breaker choosing to still stick to his tenets and maintain his goodness in spite of it all is such a good flavour.

(you can ramble more about their romance I am always eager for Gale love have you seen my blog gimme Gale loooooove)

#asks #other people's ocs

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fordarkisthesuede · 3 months

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May I please ask for a character description of Jackie lant? I honestly don't feel like combing through every page of the fics she's in (I'm sorry if that came off as rude) I want to draw her but don't know if I made shit up or it was written (I'm bad with words I'm sorry) I also really want to draw her jack-o'-lantern outfit, if you have the time or want to if not, thank you for your time

You're asking about my girl?! My precious darling daughter?!

Pfft, no problem, baby-cake! Let's go!!!

Full Name: Jacklin "Jackie" Olivia Lant

Age: 26

Birthday: 🦂 November 2nd (Day of the Dead)

Height: 5'4" without shoes (John is a known 6ft tall for comparison)

Cup size: Just barely a C

Build: Dress size 6 (US measurements)

Eyes: Brown; frequently described as "autumn leaves".

Eyelashes are short and almost invisible without makeup, so she frequently uses a brown mascara.

Hair: In the fiery orange range of red-heads (don't forget the yellow-y bits!); curl level is 3C (tight corkscrews). Currently a bob style like this:

Fun fact, her hair was modeled after my friend Maddy :)

Eyebrows: small and yellower than her hair so is frequently filled in with light brown pencil to a straight shape like this:

Face: more round than oval; no visible scars

Skin: Caucasian; has freckles across her nose and cheeks + on shoulders and peppered along arms

Tattoos: none

Scars: bullet wound on left-hand abdomen above the hip, circa Dr. Crane in AtBoM; right-hand calf has a three-inch vertical scar from a childhood bike accident; outside of thighs have several horizontal scars from self-harm as a teenager .

Favorite clothes are autumnal colors and patterns; she favors orange, yellow, brown, and black, but will wear white and owns two pairs of worn blue jeans she wears frequently. Occasionally wears green accent pieces (favors Goosebumps slime green). Dislikes wearing blue tones outside of faded jeans. Never wears solid reds. Loves plaids, ripped pants, and Beetlejuice-style stripes. Dislikes Uggs, loves boots of all other kinds, flat sneakers, and black chunkier-style heels with straps. Can and has worn stilettos, just doesn't like having to skirt around grates in the city. Can wear any and all dress and skirt styles, but prefers knee-length or shorter.

Favorite clothing item: black zip-up hoodie with pumpkin orange skeleton torso print - the zipper goes all the way up through the hood to seal the face, and the hood-face print is a jack-o-lantern!

Her original "costume", from down in the secret chamber beneath the mausoleum in AtBoM (when she's trying to get every party-goer to help her take down Dr. Crane, who used that place as a hideout), is very reminiscent of Samhain from the old Ghostbusters cartoon:

That said, her "official" villain look is undecided, since we never had to really go that route. Her official weapons at the time were a sawed-off shotgun, a classic revolver, and backup in the form of her great-uncle's mob ties, but I'll also add in mace and brass knuckles, because it's Gotham and she always has those in her purse.

I'm REALLY looking forward to seeing what you come up with!!!

#ask #anonymous #jackie lant #official profile #the perseverance project #batman the telltale series #the tolls of justice #ttoj #at the brink of midnight #atbom #Jackie heard Samhain say I AM HALLOWEEN and said SHIT YEAH PREACH #you better follow through and show me my girl 👀#I wanna seeeee

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cherrycat-blossom · 8 months

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Random fact about rerea or kageno?

Sure2 🏃‍♀️

Rerea hiraya

- she has a good singing voice but not everyone knows about this fact

- Rerea has a scar on her neck because an accident happened when she's a 4th grader, this is why she started to wear a scarf

- she has the lowest grades out of every one of her friends

- her preferred weapon is a kusarigama

- she is very bold and willing to take any dangerous risks both for fun and for benefits

- she physically cannot eat spicy foods or else she will pass out

Kageno nehara

- he has a cat allergy but would still hug them to his face every time he saw one

- his hair used to reach his ankle before it got cut off

- very awkward with girls especially older and the same age as him

- his fighting style took inspo from silat, a collective term for a class of indigenous Martial arts from geo-cultural areas of southeast Asia ( He doesn't practice the martial art literally, I just took inspo from it )

- cannot swim, would just drift away if he's thrown into water

- a big softie especially to cute furry animals

#nintamaka #nintama oc #yahiko gakuen

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years

Text

That’s Gonna Leave A Scar

Father Paul returns the favour of taking care of you after you have a little accident. This is set some time after Of Care And Comfort, but before A Sweet Tooth and the Easter vigil confession. I wanted some more hurt/comfort and I hope you’ll find a use for it too. I’m a little out of practice, so I hope it won’t be too horrible.

That’s Gonna Leave A Scar - 3K

tw: blood, injury, head trauma (concussion)

‘Come help whitewash the church, they said. It’ll be fun, they said!’ you thought bitterly, lying on the ground next to a fallen ladder, right outside Saint Patrick’s. Your head was throbbing and your vision was blurry, and you felt something hot and wet spreading where your skull hit the ground, right upon some sharper stone. It was a short fall and you even managed to roll away before the ladder could collapse on top of you, but it was a small comfort. “F-fuuuck,” you cursed quietly when you finally managed to sit up on your knees. A rush of dizziness and nausea immediately hit you and you keeled over, heaving.

And of course, this had to happen at the exact moment you were all on your own, the other volunteers (the Flynn family, the Scarboroughs, Erin and Ooker) left 15 minutes earlier for lunch. They invited you with them, of course, but you politely declined, with the excuse of not being hungry. Which wasn’t exactly the truth…

You were supposed to meet Father Paul for lunch in the rectory, having brought everything you’d need to cook some risotto for the two of you, before everyone else arrived in the morning. But then Bev (who wasn’t among the volunteers, very oddly) came and Paul and her went inside to discuss something or other. And she was taking her sweet time. Once you finally saw her leave the priest’s humble home, you breathed a sigh of relief. You were in fact so hungry you could eat a horse. She ignored you expertly as she walked around and away from you, in the direction of her own home.

You were just about to put your painting brush away and climb down the ladder, when you suddenly lost your balance. “Oh no,” you only managed to say before you felt the pull of gravity and your hold on the ladder faltered. You barely managed to get away from the thing before it crushed you underneath.

And so there you were, on your knees in dirt and some paint you knocked over, leaning over and trying not to puke your guts out, cursing your clumsiness and the pain you felt all around your head, but most of all at a spot close to one of your temples. A steady stream of blood was flowing out of it and drip-drip-dripping onto the ground. “(F/N)?” came a confused voice from somewhere to your right. Then a few steps. Finally came a panicked ‘Shit!’ as the steps turned into a run. Suddenly there was a presence next to you and you heard a hard thud as the local priest fell to his knees by your side, probably ruining his grey jeans in the process.

You were breathing hard and still trying not to empty your stomach right next to the blasted church when he pulled your face up, so he could look you over. “Oh, good God!” he breathed out. Your vision was still slightly blurry, but you could see the deep worry in his eyes. He turned your head slightly and you cringed at the wetness running down your cheek now. The nausea got a little better, but your stomach still felt unsteady. He turned your head again so that you were once more facing him: “What on Earth happened?!” He sounded terrified.

“I-I…” you tried to speak, but that proved rather difficult. Your head was still throbbing hard and spinning, and it made it hard to focus on what you wanted to say. “I f-fell,” you managed to get out. Father Paul took a look around, as if he didn’t see the mess around the two of you before. His gaze fell to the spilled paint, and the ladder, and then the spot where dark red stained the ground. He bit his lip. “Can you stand?” he asked quietly at last. “Um…” you mumbled, “d-don’t know…” Which was true, seeing as merely sitting up made you woozy. Father Paul closed his eyes and pressed his lips together in a tight line, nodding.

He then slowly manoeuvred you until you were sitting on your bum, with your legs bent at the knees in front of you. The priest crouched, and moved his arms so that one of them was under your knees and the other under your back, and then he got up, pulling you with him. If your head wasn’t spinning again, and your vision didn’t darken with pain every now and then, you’d probably be a blushing mess. Father Paul, tall and lean and handsome, was also apparently quite strong, and he carried you in a bridal style with ease. You weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, as if he was able to ground you, to make the sickening dizziness go away. Your blood stained his clerical shirt, but he only squeezed you closer.

Before you knew it, Paul was laying you down upon his made bed, helping you turn on your side so your wound was at least a little elevated. You could feel blood still oozing out of it and he quickly produced a clean flannel to press against it. Your eyes became so very heavy. “Hey. Hey!” he slapped your cheek a bit, making your eyes open wide. You didn’t even realise you closed them. “Sorry,” his tone was extremely apologetic, “but you can’t sleep now, not until we know what’s wrong. Damn…” he made sure your eyes stayed open as he blindly searched his jeans pockets with his free hand. The priest knew he had to get you medical help immediately, but his phone was nowhere on his person and he just couldn’t leave you to search for it around the rectory, or use the landline in the other room, lest you lose consciousness.

“Do you have your phone?” he asked, his face close to yours, so he had your attention. You felt his hot breath warm your cheeks, and slowly turned your eyes to look down. Father Paul followed your gaze. A gentle hand first landed on your hip, then went for the front pockets of your trousers. Finding nothing there, he looked away and his cheeks took on a pink tint. Then the hand travelled to your hip again, slowly moving back until it reached your back pocket, his arm slightly encircling you in the process. Your mobile phone was there and he pulled it out without a struggle. He tried fiddling with it a bit, all the while making sure you were awake. A frustrated line appeared between his eyebrows, as he couldn’t manage to unlock it.

Lying down helped with your vertigo slightly, so with your mind a little clearer your hand closed around his and you put your thumb against the fingerprint sensor, finally unlocking the device. Father Paul at last managed to dial Dr Sarah Gunning. While the dial tone was beeping into his ear, his hand applied more pressure on your wound, thumb caressing your cheek where it could reach. The originally blue flannel was becoming dark crimson. You were so awfully tired, your eyes held his own and pleaded with them to let you sleep. As if he read your thoughts, his eyes got hard for a moment, and he shook his head no. Then the look in them changed again and you could see he too was pleading with you to stay there with him.

Finally, there was a click and a faint, buzzy ‘Hello’ came out from the phone’s speaker. “Dr Gunning!” said Father Paul, his tone insistent, “please, I need you to come to the rectory, quick. (F/N) fell down a ladder and she’s bleeding from her forehead.” There was more buzzing on the phone and while not loud, it made your head ache even more. Suddenly your ears started ringing and you were forcibly shutting your eyes in pain. It felt so bad it made you forget you were so tired, actually. Father Paul stopped speaking as the call ended, and you opened your eyes. He put your phone on the bedside table and carefully lifted your upper body. You groaned in discomfort and soreness, but soon grew quiet again, when the priest sat on his own bed, put a big pillow on his lap and lowered your head onto it.

You saw the hand which was pressing against your wound was stained red as well, but the priest didn’t seem to give a damn. He threw the soaked flannel down on the floor and applied pressure on the injury with a clean one again. He began speaking once more and the sound of his voice penetrated the constant ringing, bringing you some solace. It took your muddled brain a while to realise he was actually telling you some biblical story, the words he knew by heart floating off his tongue perfectly. While in church, he sometimes stuttered a bit, and it was honestly endearing. Now though, he spoke without a hitch, and you felt yourself calm down at the sound of his dulcet tones.

You did your best to keep your attention on the story, willing yourself to stay awake, but you felt so confused you were getting lost in simple sentences. You gave up trying to comprehend at last and only focused on the melody and rhythm of his storytelling. When you did, you noticed his free hand had taken to caressing your side, occasionally stroking up and down your arm, a few times even coming to softly card through your hair, careful not to bump into your injury.

There came a knock on the door and the priest stopped talking to call out a ‘Come in!’. You tensed, the loud sound making your ears ring again and your head throb. The pain was easy to ignore when Paul spoke in his soft voice and caressed you, but now it came right back and you groaned. Paul squeezed your shoulder in a silent apology. When your vision stopped spinning, you saw Dr Gunning in the door of Paul’s bedroom, her face worried. “Let me see,” she spoke, and you were very grateful, because she did so quietly. Father Paul lifted the cloth, uncovering your head while still holding onto you with his other hand. “I’ll have to clean that,” she said and looked around the room and took a hold of a lamp on the bedside table. She pressed it into Paul’s hand and turned it on. “Hold it like this,” she said and left the room.

Sarah came back with a chair from the kitchen which she put next to the bed and sat upon it. She produced a pair of gloves and set off to work. One of your hands found its way to Paul’s knee and you squeezed it when the doctor began cleaning the wound with alcohol, making it burn painfully. The priest made comforting shushing noises and once more caressed your side with his hand, mindful not to move the lamp around too much so Dr Gunning could work. “Well, it seems to be nothing too drastic. The bleeding stopped, but the cut’s pretty deep, so I have to put in at least a few stitches. Other than that, the skin will bruise heavily around the point of impact. And I'll have to check for a concussion.” she explained. You weren’t really sure whether she was talking to you or Father Paul.

Luckily for you, Sarah was an amazing doctor, and managed to make quick work of the stitching while trying to keep the pain and discomfort to a minimum. She then cleaned the wound again and covered it with an adhesive wound dressing. “There,” she said at last and motioned for Paul to put the lamp down, “think you can sit up? I’m going to check for the head-trauma.” The priest helped you sit and stood up, leaving the room and taking both the blood-soaked rags with him. Sarah gave you a look over, shining a flashlight into your eyes, checking your reflexes, and asking you some questions which you tried to answer to the best of your abilities. She inquired about the accident, your symptoms, the way you felt. Paul came back then, a glass of water in his hand, but looking uncertain and hanging about in the doorway.

“Well, it really does seem to be a concussion. You're fairly well responsive, which is a good sign, but you'll be a little sluggish for a while,” Sarah said finally, looking between you and the priest, “you should take some ibuprofen for the headache. Do you have it?” She turned to the priest now. Father Paul came closer and stood by your side: “Yes, there’s some left from, um, the last time.” “Good,” smiled the doctor, “if you need more, you know where I am.”

She started packing up her things. “One more thing,” Sarah turned around to face you once more, “you shouldn’t be alone. Now, I’m almost completely sure that you’ll be fine, but someone should stay with you, at least the first 24 hours. Should I call Erin?” “That won’t be necessary,” said Paul almost too quickly, “(F/N) will stay here and I’ll make sure she’s alright. I- it’s the least I can do.” Doctor Gunning gave him an unreadable look. “Besides, Erin and the others should just be coming back to continue painting the church, I’ll explain what happened.” “Very well then. Nice of you to, well, return the favour.” Sarah said, remembering the situation from a few weeks ago.

With that, the good doctor bid you her farewells and set off to go home. Before she got to the front door though, there came rapid knocking. A short while later you heard Erin’s worried voice and then rushed footsteps. The young woman appeared in the doorway and stopped there, her face shocked. “You look like hell,” she said at last. Paul excused himself to go and explain the situation to everyone else who stood outside the rectory with questions regarding the fallen ladder and the little pool of blood next to Saint Patrick’s. “Thanks,” you mumbled in return and gave her a wry smile. Taking a look behind her and not seeing the priest anywhere near, she came closer and sat next to you on the bed. “You know,” she said, trying to mask her worry with amusement, “I know you like to hang out with him, but someone should’ve told you that you don’t have to try this hard.”

You sighed. “‘t was an accident,” you murmured. “I know, silly.” Your friend sat with you for a bit. “You staying here then?” she asked after a while. You could only nod, fatigue beginning to envelop you again. “I’ll bring you some of your things. Clean clothes, PJs, toiletries… Food, maybe?” You gave another wry smile. You were starving before the accident, but now the very thought of food made your stomach shift uncomfortably. “There’s food here,” you finally replied, “but the other things… w-would be nice.” Erin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. “Okay... It's not like Annie won't bring you food anyway.”

Erin did as she promised and brought you your things a bit later, even helping you wash up a bit and helping you into a set of pyjamas. Father Paul was in the other room, of course, minding your privacy and occupying himself with setting up his sofa for the night. Not that he planned to actually sleep on it. After that first night of his illness weeks ago, he suggested you two share the bed, so you wouldn't have to sleep on the Ouch-Couch (as you began to call the sofa) or the floor. In an absolutely platonic way, of course. Neither of you were touching (apart from holding hands a few times), yet it felt very comforting to feel your warmth from across the bed. He'd stay with you again, to make sure you're alright during the night. However, as the priest didn't want to drag you into any gossip, it was vital to make it look like you slept separately.

Your friend left in the evening, after making sure you don't need anything and you're not in too much pain. So you finally decided to give in to your tiredness and get some rest. Sometime later, you and Father Paul lied in his bed, a metre of space between you and looking at each other. Or rather, looking at where the other's face must be. Darkness had fallen and you could barely see the priest's face. You felt better now, the painkillers numbing the ache in your head and you felt slightly more 'there'. All you could hear were the sounds of the rectory settling and Paul's soft breathing.

"Thank you," you said finally, "for taking care of me. I-I was… kind of scared. And you came like a knight in shining armour, or something" Even in the dark you could see Paul's teeth flash in a grin."More like a priest in a golden chusable,” He shifted slightly closer and put his hand on your cheek, “I was frightened too, and out of my depth entirely… You don’t have to thank me, though, I’m happy to be of help… I want you to get well again. I really care about you, you know?" he quoted exactly what you said to him when he was battling the nasty flu. "Besides," his smile stayed, "you won't be so grateful in the morning. Dr Gunning said that I'm to wake you several times a night to see if you awaken normally," suddenly there was a tiny, but bright light, which you recognised as coming from that small flashlight., "also, I have to check your pupils everytime."

You groaned and buried your head deeper into your pillow. The priest chuckled lightly and his hand moved to find yours above the covers. He grasped it and held it tight. "Don't worry," he comforted, "you'll be fine." You only murmured something back and pulled his hand closer, grabbing it between both of yours, and keeping it close to you. Paul’s right, you'll be fine.

Hello, I hope you liked it. I’m always happy for feedback. You can check this story and the entire series on AO3.

#midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #fanfiction #reader insert #hurt/comfort #father Paul x reader #father paul hill x reader #father paul hill #father paul #hamish linklater #sickfic

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moonfurthetemmie · 1 year

Text

Hello, Other DS Verses

Biggest warning is for violent threats but they’re not serious. A short chapter, but enjoy :))

Previous | Next

A pale woman covered in scars adjusted her hood as she and her friends walked through the crowded streets. The other two had large hoodies on as well; they didn’t have their usual supplies, so they couldn’t disguise themselves. For the time being, they had to rely on the old fashioned method of hiding their faces and keeping their heads down.

“Do you guys even remember where we got all of our shit?” She asked the other two quietly.

The tan-skinned man shrugged. “The back-up contact lenses should be enough until we can get home. Wigs shouldn’t be hard to find. They sell those lots of places. Make-up to cover scars is going to be easiest.”

“We don’t have money,” the other, dark-skinned woman pointed out. Her long dreads were poking out from behind her hood. She lowered her voice. “The other Dream isn’t messing around. We have to be really careful. I don’t think stealing that stuff would be the best idea right now.”

The pale woman shook her head. “Do you want us to rob a bank? Just grabbing the shit would be the quickest option.”

“Everyone’s on high alert,” the other woman said. “We need to be really careful. I think we should just scout out hiding places and places we can get what we need today, and lay low until the people here chill a little.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” the man said. “Even if they mistake us for the other Meme Squad, we’ll be in some deep shit.”

The pale woman sighed. “Fine. Got any ideas, then?”

“Tree house,” the man said.

“Where are we going to find a tree house to live in?” the pale woman said, snorting.

“Make one. Seems like fun.”

“Nigh- …dude, do you even know how to use power tools?”

“Can’t be too hard,” the man reasoned. “Also, if you recall, I was the designated power tool user when we were building the backrooms maze.”

“Yeah, and then she took over,” the dark woman jabbed a thumb at the pale one, “because the circular saw was too heavy for you and your scrawny little twink arms.”

“I’m going to run you both over with an 18-wheeler truck.”

“With what driving skills, bitch?”

“I don’t need driving skills to run people over. In fact, I would argue that you’re more likely to run people over if you can’t drive.”

“Yeah, by accident,” the pale woman snorted. “You’d miss us by a mile if you tried.”

“Fuck you, I can at least drive straight.”

“Bullshit, you can’t do anything straight.”

“Alright, you got me there.”

The three of them laughed. The pale woman looked around, eyeing the various shops and cafés. There was really nothing around that would be any use for them. Not to get disguises, not to camp out in, nothing. Maybe some food, but that was about it.

“…Really not a lot of options here,” she mumbled. “Maybe we should move on.”

“Alright. Where do we wanna go, then?” the dark woman asked. The three of them made their way into a nearby alley.

“Probably want to stay well away from this multiverse’s JR,” the man mused. “We’re lucky the other Ink didn’t recognize me, even with the contact lenses.”

“Maybe a more negative AU, then?” the pale woman suggested. “Or would this Dream be less likely to check a more positive AU…?”

The dark woman rubbed her wrist. “Lying low in a positive AU would probably be safest, but being in a negative AU would give us some wiggle room to fuck around if we got bored…”

“Positive AU is probably best, then,” the pale woman decided. “We can also go to a negative AU to fuck around in.”

The man grinned, stopping at the alleyway entrance behind the girls. “I like that idea! Maybe we can make a new maze, too.”

“Lets not get ahead of ourselves,” the dark woman said dryly. “That took months to do. We don’t have that kinda time.”

“Eh, we can make a smaller one.” “…Sure we can. ‘Pluto’.”

“I like that nickname, don’t make fun of it. ‘Byte’.”

The dark woman, Byte, snorted. “I wasn’t making fun of it.” Pluto narrowed his eyes. “I’ll fucking shank you.”

“Can we at least get out of the city first?” the pale woman asked, folding her arms. “We look sus, someone’s going to investigate sooner or later.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Byte opened a portal. “After you, ‘Slash’.” Pluto cackled. “Guys, guys! Slash vented! I saw it!”

“I’m gonna cut your dick off.” But Slash went through the portal, her friends soon following behind her.

#Horror!DS #H!DS Slash #H!DS Pluto #H!DS Byte #cw threats #horror squad content horror squad content #augh i forgot to link these to the others #gotta go through and fix that.......#screams #Moonfur writing

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full---ofstarlight · 7 months

Note

Isadora - 🎻 💯 🍎 🧡 🍔 🤩

ahem! better late than never!!

🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

She was probably taught piano or something at a young age, and she really liked it. But when she was sent to the Circle, she lost access to musical instruments and thus her ability to play faded. I think she misses it a lot, though at first she’s scared to admit it. Josephine eventually finds her longingly looking at a piano when they’re in Orlais one day, and she teaches Isadora how to play. So she’s currently in the process of relearning and rediscovering her passion for it.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

She is the middle child of seven! All her siblings have vowel first names (Alexander, Evelyn, Edward, Oliver, Ursula, Yelena). Alexander and Evelyn both died in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and Edward went missing years ago, so Oliver is currently the heir of House Trevelyan.

I actually used Edward as inspiration for my D&D character Sirrus……. At this point they’re so loosely connected, but they still do come from seven-child families and went missing in a shipwreck………………………..

The scar over her right lip came from an accident with her magic where she severely injured a family servant after unintentionally causing a whole stable to collapse.

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

Isadora was born in Oswick in the Free Marches, but was sent to the Ostwick Circle at age 11. She feels very little connection to the Free Marches, and a lot of her story is about trying to find a place that feels like home :’). She feels very complicated about the Free Marches, because all she really knew of it was the Circle, but she always wanted to say she was from a place or belonged to one, so she tries to cling to some traditions but eventually carves out new ones.

🧡 ORANGE HEART — does your oc tend to prioritize family or friends?

Haha! Well, her family all but exiled her and cut her off after her magic emerged, so friends absolutely. She considered her friends to be family at this point <3

🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer?

Probably not at all! She was a noblewoman, then in the Circle for, like, her entire life. And as the Inquisitor, I’m sure her meals are provided for so I don’t think she ever has to worry about this. Which makes for fun post-canon headcanons that Cullen is the one who cooks for them, since by situation and necessity he probably knows how to cook more.

🤩 FACE WITH STARRY EYES — is your oc a planner, or are they more spontaneous in their actions?

She’s definitely more of a planner, and gets a little flustered when things get off-script, but she’s learned to do her best to work around that. It’s a process.

#char isadora trevelyan #ty for the ask!!!!!#gettting to these slowly

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 8 months

Text

The Pains We Endure | Chapter Three

Masterlist | Ao3

Chapter Summary: Aesop learns a secret about Edith. A close encounter brings feelings to the surface. (Aesop Sharp x OC)

Chapter Rating: PG

Chapter Warnings: None!

Word count: 4k

A/N: I've included a fun fact about flowers/bees that is actually a pretty recent discovery, but surely the wizarding world is ahead on these things, right? This chapter is mostly fluff before the drama. 3 of 6.

—

Tuesday evening arrived in the blink of an eye. In the days since she had tended to his hand, Aesop had barely seen Edith. There had been no time between classes to converse, and he felt compelled to change that.

Aesop stared at the handkerchief folded neatly on his desk. The square of white and lavender looked so out of place in the dimness of his office. He had laundered it with care, and all that remained was the simple task of returning it.

Why, then, was he stalling?

He sighed, picking up the handkerchief gingerly, and looked at the basket that sat beside it. It had been weeks since Edith had left it on his desk, filled with herbs she had harvested herself. He was due to return it, and perhaps now was the time.

Another glance at the handkerchief. Aesop brought it to his nose. It still smelled faintly of dittany and violets.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Aesop tucked it into his pocket.

No more stalling.

The kettle was just about to boil when Edith heard the knock at the door. She seldom had visitors, especially after dinner. Perplexed, Edith opened the door and was surprised to find the potions master standing on the other side.

“Oh, good evening, Aesop. Is everything all right?”

“I came to return this.” Aesop held the little basket aloft.

A smirk played at the corners of Edith’s mouth. “So you found a home for those herbs, after all?”

“And I have set some aside in case those doxies return.”

Edith huffed. “Perish the thought.” Her face softened. “How is your hand?”

Aesop presented his palm, free of any blemish or scar. “Like it never happened, thanks to you.”

“Think nothing of it. Oh!” The weight of the basket surprised Edith when she took it from him, almost dropping it. Within, she found a jar bearing the Steeply & Sons label. Her eyes lit up as she pulled it from the basket.

“A small token of my gratitude.” Aesop’s tone remained casual, though he couldn’t help but smile at her reaction.

Edith opened the jar and inhaled, closing her eyes as the scent washed over her. “Heavenly.”

She was already walking over to her teapot, looking over her shoulder to ask, “Join me for a cup?”

“I would love to, Miss Pryce.”

“Please, call me Edith. Your timing is once again perfect; I just heated some water.”

“I noticed your absence at dinner this evening.” Aesop took a seat on the sofa, observing her surroundings again. Nothing had changed since Saturday, though he thought the lamps were dim tonight.

Edith set the tea tray on the table and sat at the other end of the sofa. “Yes, I felt a headache coming on and thought it prudent to lie down. I thought fainting at the dinner table might be a little improper.”

“You suffer these afflictions often?”

“I have always been prone to headaches and fainting spells, though it has been a struggle since-“ Edith paused, holding the lid of the teapot in place as she poured. “Since my accident.”

Aesop raised an eyebrow. “Accident?”

Edith leveled her gaze at him. I shouldn’t have said that.

She considered the man before her. Aesop had been kind to her. Refused to leave her when she was vulnerable. He knew, firsthand, what it was like to suffer the effects of dark wizards; his leg was proof of that. Aesop would understand.

So Edith decided she should tell him the truth.

“I have heard that prolonged exposure to the cruciatus curse often produces such side effects. The healers at St. Mungo’s tell me it is irreversible, but I am fortunate to still have my mind.”

She watched a look of understanding cross Aesop’s features. “An unpleasant ordeal, no doubt. How did you come to be in such a situation?”

“I am not cut out for fighting dark wizards, but I have friends who are. I became embroiled in their efforts, and when I refused to give up their location to their enemy, he tried to persuade me.”

Aesop felt his auror instincts lighting up the inquisitive part of his mind. “What was this man’s name?”

“McNair. Jasper McNair.”

“I think I know of him. It was after my time in the ministry, but a former colleague mentioned it to me. He escaped the aurors, didn’t he?”

Edith nodded. “No one knows where he is. I fear he will try to find me.”

“Which is why Matilda helped you gain your position here.” Aesop nodded, finally understanding the secrecy. “To keep you safe.”

“Professor Sharp-“

“Aesop,” he gently corrected.

“Aesop. I am very guarded when it comes to this subject. I don’t take you for a gossip, but I would appreciate it if you did not speak of this to anyone else. Matilda is the only one who knows.”

“Of course.”

An appreciative smile graced her lips as she held up her teacup. “Now, this tea is far too lovely for the discussion of such dark topics. Let us speak of something more pleasant.”

“Then tell me of your plants,” Aesop suggested. “How did you become such a keen herbologist?”

Ediths lips curved into a truly happy smile as she looked over the plants adorning the room. Her favorite subject. “When I was small, I used to help my mother in her garden. I think I’ve loved plants ever since. Even then I was very good with them, and I could barely hold a trowel.”

Aesop chuckled at the image of a little Edith, dirt smudging her cheek. “I see you grow several plants that are rare or difficult. Why?”

“It’s how I challenge myself, I suppose.” Edith shrugged. “It brings me a sense of accomplishment. And it doesn’t hurt that rare herbs fetch rather nice prices.”

He smirked, seeming to approve of her words. “How enterprising. Yet I see flowers more than anything else.”

“I love all plants, but there is nothing I love so much as flowers.” Edith glanced at her surrounding plants, smiling. “They are beautiful, of course, but they have so many purposes and uses. Did you know some flowers can sense bees? They hear the vibrations of their wings, and in response, their nectar sweetens to be more appealing to the pollinator.”

Edith suddenly fell quiet, her smile fading. “I’m sorry, I must sound frightfully boring.” She hid her face behind a sip of tea.

“Not at all. I’ve never seen you so animated on a topic.”

“I get a little overexcited when I speak about my passions. I seldom have the opportunity.”

Aesop raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

Because no one listens.

“I’m usually a better listener than I am a talker.”

Edith finished the last of her tea and reached for the teapot. “Another cup? Or is it getting too late?”

Aesop held out his cup. “Not at all.”

—

It was proving to be a rather uneventful Sunday in the library. Edith sipped a cup of tea, thumbing through a book on floriography, enjoying the comforting background noise of the few students who were shuffling around the library. Her thoughts drifted to the point where she didn’t realize someone stood in front of her until they cleared their throat.

Her heart skipped a beat when she looked up and met Aesop’s dark brown gaze. “Apologies, I was miles away. Did you need something?”

Aesop’s impatient expression softened. “I was planning to do some research in the restricted section.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Edith rummaged in the desk for the key. “Any topics of interest?”

“Just my blasted leg.”

“Oh.” Edith rather wished she hadn’t asked.

Aesop glanced down at the book in front of her. “Floriography?”

“The symbolic language of flowers. I think it’s common among wizards, but it has swept the muggle world by storm. They give bouquets carrying entire messages in carefully selected blooms, and reference it in novels and poems. There are countless books on the subject, but this one has the finest illustrations.”

Edith fell silent, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “You are letting me carry on again.”

“You are not the only one who is good at listening.”

Edith held out the key to the restricted section. “Well, I shan’t keep you any longer.”

Aesop took the key, his fingers brushing against hers.

“Let me know when you’re finished. That Sallow boy keeps trying to sneak in, so I’ve got to keep a close eye on that key.”

“I may be awhile.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Edith’s gaze remained on Aesop’s back until he went round the corner and down the steps, out of sight. She had just turned back to her book when Aesop called out, his tone full of mild concern.

“Edith?”

Edith trotted down the first set of stairs, her brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?” She rounded the corner and fell silent.

This area of the restricted section was in utter shambles. Books had been torn from the shelves, laying everywhere but where they belonged. The catalog drawers had been emptied, contents strewn about the floor and shelves, and papers littered every surface.

“Peeves.” Edith released an exasperated sigh. She looked at Aesop. “I hope what you were looking for isn’t in all this mess.”

“Luckily not.”

Edith picked up a few of the stranded books before their spines were damaged. “If the rest of the restricted section is like this… don’t tell me. I shall burst into tears, mourning my evening.”

Aesop chuckled. “I don’t think so, but I’ll keep an eye out for rogue papers.”

“Much appreciated. Happy knowledge hunting.”

Frowning over her cup of tea going cold upstairs, Edith went to work setting everything right.

The quiet of the library was occasionally broken by Aesop shuffling below, or a bit of humming from Edith. She wasn’t sure how many hours passed as she worked, but the place looked much better.

Edith stretched, surveying her work. As her eyes traveled the shelves, she saw that at least a few tomes had been abandoned on the very tops of the bookcases. Groaning, Edith wheeled the step ladder below one.

She heard Aesop’s footsteps approaching as she stretched to reach the book. “Edith, there seems to be a book missing down here.”

“What? Which one?” Edith called down from the stepladder. Her fingers scrabbled for the book. It was terrible to be short.

Aesop said the title, and Edith’s brow furrowed. “That’s impossible. It was there yesterday morning, and it’s not allowed to be taken out.”

“Well, it isn’t there now.”

“Give me a moment. I’ll be right down.”

Edith finally grasped the book and pulled it forward, along with a thick cloud of dust. She spluttered as she backed down the ladder, stumbling on the last step. Edith wobbled, her balance ruined. Aesop’s hands took hold of her shoulders, keeping her from falling as she rubbed at her eyes.

“What happened?” He asked, stooping to get a look at her face.

“I just got something in my eye.” Edith blinked at the tears forming there.

Aesop’s warm fingers took hold of her chin, tilting her head back to face him. “Let me see.”

Edith let her hand fall away as Aesop’s took its place, helping push the intruder to the corner of her eye. She blinked a few times, and though her eye was still red and watery, the obstruction seemed to be gone.

“Better?” He asked. Aesop plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Edith. She pressed it to her eye, drying the tears from her cheek.

“Thank you.” Edith’s voice was soft as she handed it back. She noted the lavender embroidery, and a little smile pulled at her lips.

Aesop started to put it back in his pocket when he noticed her looking at it. “Unless you wanted it back?”

Edith shook her head. “No. Keep it.”

Aesop brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, his eyes still boring into hers. Edith’s gaze darted to his lips, her own parting slightly, and back to his eyes. Aesop’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and he leaned forward.

“Merlin’s beard!”

Aesop and Edith turned when they heard the voice, finding Sebastian Sallow at the top of the stairs, Aesop’s missing book in his hands.

Aesop glared daggers at the boy; Edith cleared her throat, hands going to her hips. “Mr. Sallow, you are not supposed to be in the restricted section, and that book is not meant to be out of it.”

Edith held her hand out expectantly. Sallow sighed. “Yes, Miss Pryce.”

He handed over the book as Aesop strode toward him. The back of Aesop’s hand brushed against Edith’s side as he moved away. “With me, Sallow. We can discuss your detention.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes behind Aesop’s back and Edith watched them both retreat up the stairs.

—

Aesop arrived at the library early the next morning. He had a little time before his first class of the day, and he planned to spend it perusing the book that eluded him yesterday.

A ghost of a smile he hadn’t realized he wore faded as he found Miss Scribner, not Edith, at the desk. “No Miss Pryce today?” He couldn’t resist asking.

“I sent her to Hogsmeade on an errand. Something you need, professor?”

“Just looking to get into the restricted section.”

Aesop picked up Edith’s book on floriography, sitting where he had last seen it, glancing at its pages. He carried it with him to the restricted section, leafing through the colorful illustrations.

It was amazing how quickly Edith had restored order to the chaos Peeves had left behind. With his height, he spotted a few books she had missed, still lying on top of the bookcases. With a flick of his wand, Aesop retrieved them and stacked them on the table, finding himself in the same spot they had stood last night.

Where he had very nearly kissed her.

What was it about Edith Pryce that stirred these feelings - feelings that had been absent for years - within him?

Perhaps the answer was just too simple. She was clever and quick-thinking. Beneath the meek, unassuming librarian she took great care to portray, Edith was a resilient and determined woman.

What would she have done if he had kissed her?

Aesop shook the thought from his mind. There was no use dwelling on a moment that had passed. Especially as he was so short on time.

He left the library half an hour later with some hastily scribbled notes. Passing through Central Hall, a snippet of conversation caught his attention among the myriad voices.

“I thought we had it bad with Rookwood and those goblins stirring up trouble. I never thought something like this would happen in Diagon Alley.”

“At least no one was seriously hurt. What do you think they were looking for?”

“I don’t know, but it cost Flourish and Blotts three shelves of books for nothing.”

Aesop came to a stop beside the students, a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw. “What are you talking about? What’s happened in London?”

The Ravenclaw held up a copy of the Daily Prophet. “A couple of dark wizards causing trouble, Professor Sharp.”

Aesop took the paper and peered down at the moving photograph on the page. His lips tightened.

“You can keep that, professor, I’m finished with it. Need to get to charms.”

Aesop nodded, still looking over the paper as he made his way to his classroom. Frustration scratched beneath his skin. He should be out there, bringing wizards like these to justice.

He had found a sense of purpose and fulfillment teaching at Hogwarts; Aesop had no regrets about the path he had chosen in the wake of his injury. There were just some days when he wished things were different. He wished he had something more in his life. Heaving a sigh, Aesop tossed the paper to the side.

An auror no longer, whether he liked it or not. Unless he found a way to heal his leg, he would remain the potions master for the foreseeable future. Aesop prepared himself for the day’s lessons - and the lack of adventure they entailed.

Though, for a brief moment, his thoughts strayed to the handkerchief in his pocket.

—

Edith woke to a morning blissfully free of headache and lightheadedness. It was her day off from the library, and she had several ideas on how to spend it.

Naturally, it began with a cup of tea. She thought of Aesop as she measured out the tea he had given her. She thought of how he had almost kissed her in the library the other day. Edith wondered if he would have, had they not been interrupted. What would that have been like?

Edith shook her head from her reverie. It wouldn’t do to dwell on those kinds of thoughts. She had to sit next to the man at meals! She couldn’t go getting all flustered and thinking about kissing.

With a flick of her wand, Edith sent a couple of enchanted lanterns into the air, brightening up the room. Humming a melody without a meaning, she set to work caring for her plants. Pruning, snipping, and harvesting all in turn, pausing occasionally to sip her tea, Edith was focused on her task.

The door was propped open, though Edith was too busy bustling around her leafy children to notice a visitor pause in her doorway.

“You seem cheerful this morning, Edith.”

“Matilda! You startled me.” Edith set the pruning scissors down. “It’s shaping up to be a lovely day, don’t you think? Tea?”

Matilda nodded for Edith to pour her a cup. “What has you in such a good mood? Or should I say, who?”

Edith faltered as she poured the tea. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Matilda gave her a look. “My dear girl. I’ve seen you and Professor Sharp. You spend a lot of time together, always chatting away at meals.”

“We’re just friends, Matilda.”

Matilda raised an eyebrow over her teacup.

“There’s no need to look at me like that.”

Matilda chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’ve enjoyed seeing the both of you a little less lonely. You could do worse for a suitor.”

Edith’s eyes widened. “Even if that was on the table, and it’s not, I’m not ready for something like that. Poor judgment almost destroyed me once, I won’t let it happen again.”

Matilda laid a comforting hand on Edith’s shoulder. “Surely you wouldn’t suspect Aesop capable of such a thing.”

Edith stared down into her teacup. “I didn’t think Jasper was capable of such things when I met him.”

“That is hardly a comparison worth making.”

“Perhaps not. But then, such thoughts are not driven by the rational mind.”

“Well, I might as well finish spoiling your good mood.” Matilda held out a copy of the Daily Prophet, a few days old now.

The headline was attention grabbing: Dark Wizards Make Ruckus in London!

But Edith’s gaze was fixed on the moving photograph that accompanied it. Two wizards in dark cloaks, disapparating from the scene of chaos in Diagon Alley. The picture wasn’t great, their faces blurry in the moment of their getaway.

Mostly.

“London is no small distance.” The paper shook as Edith handed it back. “Surely they wouldn’t have reason to come here.”

“I didn’t show you this to scare you.” Matilda abandoned the paper on the table. “I just thought you should be aware.”

“I know. I just don’t want to leave, Matilda.”

“Dear girl, who said anything about leaving? There’s no better place for you to be.”

Edith sipped her tea. She wasn’t so sure. “But if he does come here-“

“Then you’ll no longer face him alone.” Matilda laid a hand on Edith’s shoulder. “You can’t run from him forever.”

“I don’t know. I’ve gotten rather good at it.” Of course, she had never found somewhere she wanted to stay before.

“Well, maybe it’s time to better your skills in something else.” Matilda set the cup of tea down on the tray. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Edith.”

Despite her polite word of parting to Matilda, Edith felt that the peace of her day had been ruined. She sat down with a fresh cup of tea and a book, but found that she couldn’t focus on the words on the page. Where had her floriography book gotten to?

When he turned to look for it, her gaze landed on the rumpled Daily Prophet. The moving photograph once again held her interest, and she found herself staring at it while a thousand thoughts swirled in her mind.

Huffing, Edith crumpled up the paper and hurled it into the fireplace. She stared until the parchment, the photo, the face was nothing but cinders.

—

The sun was low in the sky when Edith left the library. She had just closed the door when she turned around to see Aesop standing behind her.

“Good evening, Aesop.” She couldn’t help the soft smile that curved her lips. “Here for another visit to the restricted section? Do excuse me.”

She moved to step out of his way, but Aesop’s voice stopped her. “Actually, I was on my way to see you. Can you spare a moment to speak?”

“Of course. I was just thinking of taking a walk by the lake. Do you feel like joining me?”

Aesop gestured for her to lead the way. He didn’t know how she did it, but Edith was adept at keeping a comfortable pace without making him feel like she was only slowing for the sake of his leg.

“I’m simply desperate for some fresh air,” Edith told him as they reached the doors.

“You must be busy, with exams coming up. I hear the library has been quite popular this week.”

“Indeed. A number of students have told me they are quite nervous about Professor Sharp’s potions exam.”

Aesop chuckled. “I’ve heard he’s intimidating.”

“Perhaps. I think he’s quite reasonable once you get to know him.” Edith watched him from the corner of her eye.

Pink, orange, and gold reflected off the surface of the Black Lake, the sun slowly sinking into the horizon. The colors played on Edith’s pale skin, dancing in her eyes. They shone tonight, and it was nice to see her without one of her headaches. Aesop could lose himself in those dark brown depths.

What am I doing here? I was a fool to think this was a good idea.

“Aesop?”

Edith’s voice mercifully interrupted his internal conversation, and he returned to the present. She was looking at him expectantly.

“Is something on your mind?”

“No. Why?”

“You said earlier that you wanted to speak to me.”

“Right.”

Better to be the fool who asked than the fool who never learned the answer.

The sun sunk lower, a light breeze blowing in off the lake. It ruffled a loose lock of Edith’s hair, and she tucked it behind her ear. Surely, it must have been important for him to seek her out specifically.

“Edith, would you like to join me for dinner at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow night?”

She certainly wasn’t expecting that.

Edith’s mind whirled as she stared at him, trying to find the words for her answer.

Aesop must have found her surprise unsavory. Frowning, he started to speak, but Edith cut him off.

“I would like that.”

It was Aesop’s turn to look surprised. “You would?”

Pink crept into Edith’s cheeks. “Very much.”

Such a wide smile was seldom seen on Aesop Sharp’s face. “You honor me.”

As they strolled back to the castle, Edith and Aesop determined the particulars of their meeting. They parted with smiles and softly spoken words of good night.

When Edith extinguished the light by her bed and settled beneath her blanket, the face swimming in her mind was not the one from the newspaper.

#hogwarts legacy fic #aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy #professor sharp #aesop sharp x oc

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milarqui · 1 year

Text

Scarlet Lady: Reflekta

Directory - The Gamer

Today was an important day for the pupils of Collège Françoise Dupont.

Photograph Day.

Each class would have their photo taken, along with their teacher and the principal, to have a memory of the year they would spend together.

For Adrien, it was doubly important, though.

“It's pretty cool you get to work with your photographer,” Nino said as they watched Vincent take photos of one of the youngest classes.

“Yeah! He makes even the most mundane shoots fun! And now I get to be in a photo with all my friends!”

Nino grinned as he put him in a headlock, bringing a smile out of his friend.

“If you wanna pic, you just gotta ask!”

“Haha!” Adrien laughed, and Nino pulled out his cellphone to take a selfie of them both.

----

Chloé glared at the photographer. It was the same one that had not only insulted her, but had kept her from being in a shoot with her Adrikins!

“Ugh, him again.”

----

Rose leaned on her girlfriend's shoulder with a gentle thump, her hands over her chest.

“You're not cursed, Juleka, this time will work out! I can feel it deep down in my heart!”

“Why would you be cursed?” Marinette asked the goth girl, who looked downcast.

“Every time someone takes my picture, something goes wrong...”

“Those were just accidents, Juleka!” Rose tried to cheer her up.

“The pigeon?”

Rose blinked and gave up.

“Okay, that one was pretty bad,” she admitted: even she knew that it took some serious bad luck for a pigeon to fly just in front of Juleka's face the moment the photo was taken.

“Don't worry,” Marinette said, “we'll make sure everything goes okay!”

Juleka gave her friend a small smile.

“Thanks.”

----

“Look, Sabrina, the babies are in the front row!” Chloé said.

“U-huh,” Sabrina replied, non-committally. The incident with her father had opened her eyes to the fact that her friend was not perfect. The part where Chloé blamed her over the thing with Marinette's diary weighed further in her mind.

“Hey, rugrats! Try not to suck your thumb in the photo!”

“Hn.” Once, she would have laughed. Now, she realized that her 'jokes' weren't funny at all. She felt adrift, not knowing what to do.

“Seriously, what is with you lately?” Chloé told her. She didn't want to answer, and she was saved by the handsome photographer directing everyone to their places.

“You, you, you, and you. Back row,” he said, pointing at Nathaniel, Alya, Chloé and her.

“Wait, me?!” Chloé said, grappling Adrien's arm as if it were made of gold. Sabrina noted that Adrien was uncomfortable with Chloé being so close. “Excuse you, but I belong next to Adrien!”

The photographer looked down and up and Chloé, and glowered.

“You again. Still wearing white pants, I see.”

Chloé growled, but still moved to the back row, behind Adrien.

----

“Everyone else, get between the two rows, here!” the photographer continued, sliding on the floor as he went back to his camera, and everyone went to their place.

Everyone except her.

In spite of Rose and Marinette's assurances, she still felt... apprehension. What if, in spite of everything, something went wrong?

What if she was really cursed, to never have a photo of herself that wasn't ruined by something?

“Hey!” Marinette shouted, bringing Juleka out of her spiral. “That includes you, Juleka!”

“Yeah, Juleka!” Alya yelled.

“There's space here!” Nino and Adrien invited her.

“Get in here!” Mylène encouraged her.

Maybe...

Maybe she wasn't cursed at all.

After all, would someone cursed have such wonderful friends?

----

As they made place for Juleka to take a seat, Adrien heard Chloé huffing.

“Ugh, why's everyone making a big deal over her when I'm the one having a crisis?!”

It was moments like this when he wondered if she was becoming more of a jerk, or if she had always been and he just had chosen not to see it.

It actually reminded him of Scar. So he chose to reply the same way he would to her.

“Because your 'crisis' is just an oversized temper tantrum.”

He heard Nino chuckle, and he could swear Sabrina was trying to hold up a guffaw.

“Just let us have a nice moment,” Ivan complained, letting Juleka through.

However, as soon as Juleka sat next to Adrien, Chloé attempted to push her way between them.

“The place you put me in is unacceptable! MOVE!”

He glared at her, and so did everyone else. Not that she even cared.

“Knock it off,” Juleka growled, pushing her back.

“That's right, Juleka,” Marinette encouraged her. “Don't let her push you!”

“Oh, no one asked you,” Chloé said, and he finally got a chance to intervene.

“Seriously, Chloé, have you no shame?!”

She looked at him, almost like if she hadn't understood what he had just said.

Oh, for God's sake.

“Shame?”

Chloé was certainly doing her best to remind him of Scar, wasn't she?

“Get back to your spot. I'm embarrassed for you.”

----

She couldn't understand why her Adrikins thought she should be ashamed. He should have been begging to be placed next to her in the photo! They were meant to be together, after all! The girl who was dumb enough to think that black combination was fashionable didn't deserve to muddy her photo with Adrikins!

Fortunately, the shoot was interrupted when the photographer rose a hand.

“Unbelievable! Scuzi, I need another battery!”

Couffaine stood up and walked to Mlle. Bustier.

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Okay, but be quick!”

This was the moment! She turned to Sabrina.

“Make sure Juleka doesn't come back,” she whispered.

“... no.”

She blinked. This could not be happening. She must have misheard.

“What did you just say to me?!”

“I. Don't. Want. To.”

Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! This servant Sabrina thought she could just reject her orders demands? She was clearly surrounded by idiots!

“Useless! I'll do it myself!” she shouted, shoving Sabrina aside. “Mme. Bustier!”

The moment she was out of sight, she grabbed a chair and pulled it towards the bathroom. From there, it was easy to find where Couffaine was hiding away, and she put the chair right under the handle, preventing it from moving the moment the other girl tried to come out.

“This is what you get for being in my way!” she taunted her, causing her to give a wordless yell of surprise as she attempted to open the door.

And if I'm lucky, you'll become an Akuma so I can show off as Scarlet Lady!

----

The moment Chloé came back from the bathroom, he knew something was going on, because she forced her way between him and Kim instead of staying next to Sabrina.

“Okay, take the picture!” she shouted, hugging his arm. He angrily began to try to free himself.

“Chloé, get off of me!”

“Where's Juleka?!” Marinette asked, just as angry as he was, because both of them had realized what Chloé had done.

Chloé stuck her tongue at Marinette and put her hands around his face.

“Who cares, the important thing is I'm in the right place!”

That did it.

He had limits.

And Chloé had just hit them.

“Say spaghetti!”

He turned and shoved her off as hard as he could.

“Wait!” Marinette begged, but it was too late.

SNAP!

----

Marinette quickly walked to the principal. They still had time to fix this!

“We need to retake the photo!”

“What for?” M. Damocles asked.

“Juleka wasn't in it!”

“I definitely wasn't looking at the camera,” Mylène added.

“Chloé stepped on my foot!” Kim complained.

Then Marinette's eyesore showed up, with her eternally smug face in place.

“M. Damocles, aren't there 16 other classes waiting their turn?”

“Ah! Yes! Next please!”

“Hehe,” Chloé giggled, but then Adrien showed up with a fantastic glare and Chloé stopped right in her tracks.

“SHAAAAAAAAME!”

----

Rose rushed into the bathroom, and when she heard Juleka hitting the door with her fist, she quickly moved the chair away.

The moment the door opened, her heart broke at her sad expression.

“Oh, my poor Juleka!” she cried out, wishing she could just give her a hug, but knowing that she wouldn't welcome it, at least not yet.

“I missed the photo, didn't I...”

Juleka looked so miserable! She needed to – to – to cheer her up!”

“We can retake it!” she tried. “Marinette was saying–”

“JUST FORGET IT ROSE!”

----

Three girls were lamenting the course of events of a few minutes before, and none more than Rose Lavillant, the class' sweet blonde girl.

“Juleka got locked in the bathroom,” Rose lamented: Juleka had been angry by the time she went away, no matter what Rose tried to calm her down. “She really is cursed!”

“Yeah, and the curse's name is Chloé,” Marinette replied, and suddenly, she had an idea. “You know, if the photo disappeared, the photographer would have to retake the photo!”

“I like the way you think girl!” Alya cheered, clenching her fist.

“That's amazing Marinette!” Rose said, before turning dubious. “But why would the photo disappear?”

Marinette looked at Rose with a bit of pity. She really was so innocent! Like a little blond puppy with big shining eyes!

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Marinette replied, putting a hand on Rose's shoulder. “I shan't corrupt you.”

----

Hidden in Chloé's purse, Tikki didn't know what had transpired between the two attempts to photograph the class, since Chloé had left her behind for that time. But she could tell something was seriously wrong.

“I won't let her ruin my picture with Adrien!” Chloé angrily declared.

“The picture where he pushes you off of him?”

My goodness, Sabrina is growing wiser!

Chloé didn't seem to be of the same positive opinion, judging by the sudden jerk she gave to the purse.

“That's it! You've been a total weirdo all day! You're gonna make it up to me by stopping Dupain-Cheng, got it?!”

“No thanks. Last time I ended up with a box trap bracelet,” Sabrina fired, and it was obvious she was starting to walk away. “Let me know how that goes for you.”

The gasp of surprise Chloé made just then made it even better, and she came out of the purse.

“What is with her?! Completely ridiculous.”

“Came to her senses, if I had to guess.”

She was going to have her fun where she could get it.

----

“The camera should be in here while everyone's on their lunch break...” Marinette mumbled... not knowing that a certain brat was spying from up above with her phone.

“Ha! Caught that pea-brain red-handed!” Chloé crowed, having taken a photo of Marinette entering the principal's office. “Time to confront the thief!”

“Oh, Marinette!” Tikki lamented. “Without my guidance, you're becoming a criminal!”

----

The students began to return to the gym, as well as the teachers and principal, in order to finish the photo day – with Juleka's classmates holding out for a chance of another photo where their friend would be able to be.

But the efforts were curtailed by a girl wearing a shocking pink garb with multiple eyes spread over its surface, along with intense make up. All in all, something that was meant to attract the attention of everyone in a room.

“Bonjour~” she greeted as she flew into the room.

“Ah!” Vincent shouted, shocked.

“Who... who are you?” M. Damocles asked.

“No one ever noticed me. But that's all over, because from now on, the entire world will notice me as everyone will look like me. Soon, you'll only see thousands of Reflektas in every place. There's nothing to panic about, this is gonna rock and all I need will be a Miraculous or two and thrash that brat of Chloé...”

And she kept rambling.

On.

And on.

And Alya and Nino looked at each other, sweating buckets at dealing with the monologuing Akuma.

When she was finally done, the Akuma – Reflekta – turned to her nearest target, Sabrina, who flinched back in fear.

“C'mon, Sabrina! Who doesn't love an extreme make-over?!”

And she fired some kind of laser from her extended arm.

But the laser didn't reach its target – because Rose tackled Sabrina out of the way.

“Rose!” Sabrina shouted in shock.

“Please stop!” Rose cried out.

“Don't interfere, Rose,” Reflekta said, clearly disappointed.

“I know it's you, Juleka! And I know these people didn't hurt you!”

“You're right...”

Rose smiled. Maybe she had managed to stop–

“I should get my true target first.”

“Wait, that's not what I meant!”

----

By the time Adrien returned, all he found was a lot of people that were dressed the same way, some of them trying to hide and others being consoled by their friends.

“Whoa, this is a weird one...” he said, knowing that this was the work of an Akuma.

“Adrien!” He turned to see Rose and Sabrina, clearly worried. “Jul... Reflekta blocked the exits so no one can get out! What do we do?!”

“She's after Chloé, who's after Marinette for trying to get the photo retaken!” Sabrina added. “They're probably stuck in the principal's office.”

Welp, this was Chat Noir time, once more.

“I'm gonna, uh, call for help!” he said, pointing to the nearest place he could think of to hide away.

“Good idea!” Rose cheered up, but Sabrina was more skeptic.

“In the bathroom?”

----

Unsheathing his claws felt awesome, but he didn't dally too long, running towards Reflekta's likely target... which he found when he saw the Akuma jumping up the stairs.

Oh no, the principal's office! he thought, and tried to come up with some plan to distract her and keep Marinette and Chloé from getting hit.

“Hey, Harley Quinn! Halloween was last month!”

“It's REFLEKTA!” the Akuma shouted, firing at him multiple times, and forcing him to keep on the move to dodge her.

“So you got her attention, now what, Chat Noir?!” he told himself, realizing that he had really not thought it through. Running away from the place, he realized something bad. “Now I can't get rid of her attention!”

And he was getting cornered. He knew he would eventually get hit by a laser, and if he did he'd likely lose any chance to act as Chat Noir. So he enclosed himself in a janitor's locker and...

“Plagg... Claws In.”

… took off his ring.

“Adrien, wha–?” Plagg asked as if coming out of sleep.

“Keep this safe for me, okay?” he asked, shooing the kwami away just as Reflekta came into his eyesight.

“I found you~” and she fired.

----

Hawkmoth felt like pulling his hair out. It had been so close! And this girl had just wasted the chance!

“YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN HIS MIRACULOUS!”

“Has anyone ever told you you're really annoying?”

Again? Why did people keep thinking that he was one to be mocked?

“YOU HAVE LITERALLY ONE JOB!”

----

She had managed to get her hands on the camera, and had been about to erase the photo, when the world's most irritating person came through, brandishing a smirk of superiority and her phone – which showed a video of her entering the office.

“I'm sure the principal will adore my little video of you rummaging around his office!” she crowed, but Marinette knew she had the upper hand here. She sneakily pulled out the memory card.

“Give me your phone or I erase the class photo!” she threatened, and she enjoyed Chloé's panicked face.

“NO! My picture with Adrien! Fine!”

Hiding the memory card, Marinette put the camera on the table and picked Chloé's phone. Chloé was looking quite intently at what she was doing.

“Chloé~! Where are you hiding?!” someone that sounded a lot like Juleka sing-sang.

“What was that?” Chloé asked, and Marinette quickly erased the photo and video Chloé had taken, before tossing the phone back at her.

“Thanks, Chloé!” Marinette said before starting to run away.

“Hey!” Chloé yelled, annoyed, as she tried to catch the phone before it hit the floor.

----

By the time she could secure her phone, Dupain-Cheng had completely disappeared, and she was not happy at all.

“WHERE'D THAT DIMWIT GO?!” she yelled, looking everywhere but not finding anyone. She just knew that Dupain-Cheng was laughing at her, dammit!

“Finally. Here you are.”

“Huh?”

She turned, and saw someone wearing some of the tackiest clothes she had ever seen, and she had seen some really tacky clothing.

“I don't have time for you.”

“You'll make time when my face is your face!”

She quickly dodged back into the office and closed the door just as the Akuma tried to hit her with some kind of light.

“Eugh, gross! Why does an Akuma have to come now?!”

She ignored Tikki's intent look, and blocked the door before quietly becoming Scarlet Lady and going out of the window.

“Get out here, Chloé! I have a whole new look for you!”

----

“This time, you won't get rid of me by locking me in the bathroom!” the Akuma said, and Marinette was shocked.

“Oh no, Juleka?!” It was the only option, after all that had just happened.

“Sounds like it,” someone said from behind her. She turned and saw...

“... hey.”

A black cat-like creature floating in the air.

She jumped into the library, shocked of her feet.

“Tiny cat! Mouse! Tiny cat-mouse!” she shouted, trying to make sense of what was going on, and the creature smiled at her.

“I've had worse reactions.”

“What are yooooou?!” Marinette yelled, confused, trying to protect herself with her purse.

“Look, I'm a kwami, I grant powers,” the creature said, brandishing a ring. “Look familiar?”

“That's–! Chat Noir's ring!” she realized. She had seen it enough times up close from all her encounters with the hero.

“You got it.”

“Is he okay?!”

“My kitten's been compromised. So I'm trusting you to use his ring and I'm trusting you to return it.”

Marinette smiled. She could be a hero! Even if it were for a day, it was awesome!

“Now these are the magic words. Plagg...”

----

“CLAWS OUT!”

----

“I thought you looked like a clown before, but now you're ridiculous!”

“Scarlet Lady!” Reflekta exclaimed the moment the wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous appeared, and aimed at her. “You'll appreciate it soon enough. Now, where is Chloé Bourgeois?!”

“I got her out, and she's far, far away–”

Reflekta cut her off by firing a laser, which didn't hit by centimeters. The wall behind Scarlet Lady sizzled from the impact, causing her to sweat nervously.

“Next time, I won't miss,” Reflekta threatened. “Soon, like everyone else, you'll look just like me!”

“No thanks.”

The end of a staff hit Reflekta in the face, stopping her from firing her weapon at Scarlet Lady.

“What?!”

The staff retracted again, and a deft hand swang it around.

“I prefer the look I got.”

The person that had spoken wore an elegant black qipao, molded to her lithe body almost like a second skin, and her hair held in both a long waist-long braid and a pair of short pigtails wrapped with two bands that resembled feline ears at the top of her head.

It was a cat heroine, but not the one everyone else expected.

“Who are you?!” Scarlet Lady yelled, and the newcomer glared at her with a huff.

“Oh yeah, you come with the job.”

----

“Whoa, who's that?!”

“What happened to Chat Noir?”

Plagg, oh my God, what did you do?!

This was, most definitely, nowhere close to what he had planned.

----

Scarlet Lady 'valiantly' stayed behind the newcomer, trying to keep her between herself and Reflekta.

“You better protect me!” she demanded.

“Don't you dare push me,” the cat lady fired back.

“I already skinned one cat, what's one more?!” Reflekta boasted.

“I don't think so!” Reflekta turned, and saw the multiple people she had turned into her resemblance approaching her. “GET HER!”

Everyone rushed forward, attempting to crowd her in numbers, but Reflekta simply flew over their heads.

“You're no match for me, Scarlet Lady!” Reflekta declared as she got away.

“What is going on?!”

“I'd also like some answers,” the Reflekta copy that had led the charge said, and the newcomer turned to him, shocked.

“Chat Noir?!”

----

Great. He knew he looked ridiculous... but he didn't think it would get to this.

Scar and the girl with the ring pointing and laughing at him.

“I can't believe it's really you!” the girl said.

“Geez, some thanks.”

“Phew!” Scar said, and of course she was just looking at herself in her compact. “Still, without your usual clown suit, you're utterly useless.”

“Hey!” the new girl exclaimed, angrily looking at Scar. “Chat Noir's smart, he doesn't need powers to fight Akuma!”

Then she smiled and gave him a wink.

“After all, I do it all the time.”

That smile.

That hair.

That voice.

That comment.

That wink.

He gasped.

MARINETTE?!?!?!?!?!

“What does that mean?!” Scar, ever the oblivious, asked.

Instead of answering, Marinette grabbed Chat Noir and began to pull him away from the gym.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To the TV station! I have an idea!”

Well, of course. She always had great ideas. He could follow her into another one.

“By the way, what should I call you, Princess Noir?”

No, not Princess Noir. It didn't link well together.

“Mao... tif? Yeah, Maotif!”

He could see the pun. Mao, which was 'cat' in Mandarin, and tif from motif.

And, God, if it weren't for the fact that he was the one that usually wore it, he would love to let Marinette keep the ring!

“You are so freakin' cute.”

----

“Where's your daughter, M. Mayor?” Reflekta asked, or rather, demanded, of André Bourgeois.

“Is she not at school?” André answered. He really didn't know where Chloé was, but if she wasn't at school, then trying to lead this Akuma back there would keep her safe.

“Put on a costume, kay?” his TV sounded out, and he looked on to see Scarlet Lady on the screen. “This is a special request from your beloved Hero of Paris!”

“Cut!”

Even if he got hit by the Akuma's weapon, at least he knew everything would be alright.

----

“Your plan is weird,” Scar complained.

“The real plan is to lead Reflekta to the TV studio!” Maotif declared, and Chat Noir took her hand.

“And right into our claws.”

He kissed his Princess' hand, and it was just as nice when she was a heroine as when she was a civilian.

“Do you ever stop being gross?” Scar asked.

He just flipped her the bird.

----

Reflekta entered the studio, and Scar quickly ambushed the Akuma by throwing her yo-yo, tangling and trapping her with the string.

Or... rather... him.

“Seriously?! A fake?!”

“Désolé,” the man – it was a man, and Chat Noir knew that voice, but couldn't place it anywhere – apologized.

“Now I got you, Scarlet Lady!” Reflekta – the real one – exclaimed, now that Scar's yo-yo was all entangled on the false Reflekta.

“No, Reflekta!” he shouted, cutting off the lights and drowning the studio in darkness.

“WHAT?!” Reflekta said, surprised by the turn of events... just as a pair of shining blue cat eyes sloooooooooooowly dropped right behind her.

“Now I got you!” Maotif exclaimed with a grin.

----

The moment Maotif took Reflekta's wrist mirror and destroyed it, Chat Noir turned the lights on again, and realized that Scar was holding an object – a camera – decorated in the usual style of her Lucky Charm.

“I didn't even get to use Lucky Charm!” she complained as she tossed it into the air.

“Ahhh, don't throw it yet!” he shouted, ducking behind a door as Scar cast the Miraculous Cure.

----

“W-Where am I?” Juleka, finally recovered from her stint as an Akuma, asked, clearly disorientated.

“Are you okay, Juleka?” Maotif asked, and the other girl turned.

“Wha–?! Who are you?!” Juleka asked.

“Maotif!” the heroine replied, smiling. “But I'm just a temp.”

Juleka, still unsure of what was going on, produced her cellphone.

“C-Could I get your picture? My friend runs the LadyBlog, so...”

“Sure!” Maotif picked the phone, readied a selfie – and suddenly pulled Juleka into the camera's scope. “Say spaghetti!”

“Wait, what–?”

CLICK!

Smiling at helping her friend finally have a cool photo, Maotif walked up to where she had seen Chat Noir ducking in. He was clearly trying to hide his secret identity. And, as much as she would like to know the boy behind the hero, she would respect his secret.

“You there, Chat Noir?” she gently asked.

“Yeah...”

“Plagg, Claws In,” she said, and the black leather costume she had been wearing vanished as Maotif gave place to Marinette once more, while the kwami popped out of the ring. “Thanks, Plagg. It was fun.”

“Of course! Fun is my middle name!”

“Dupain-Cheng?!” Scar yelled. She sounded awfully like Chloé...

“Rad,” Juleka – now happier as she looked at her new photo – commented.

Marinette looked to see Chat Noir's hand showing, and she went on to put the ring into it.

But then, before she could drop the ring, Chat Noir took her hand between his and brought it to his face.

“You're a hero, Marinette. With or without a mask.”

And he kissed her hand again.

She felt her face was burning, but she wouldn't change this feeling for anything in the world.

----

With both Chat Noir and Scarlet Lady going their own ways, Marinette and Juleka were in need of transport – and, fortunately, André Bourgeois was kind enough to offer to take them back to school.

“Thanks for the ride, M. Mayor!” Marinette said, as Juleka showed her the selfie they had taken.

“Is it cool if I share this with Alya?” Juleka asked.

“Totally! And I don't mind if you tell her the truth.”

“Oh, awesome!” Then Juleka's grin turned impish. “I think I'm gonna mess with her first.”

“PFT!” Marinette laughed.

----

Juleka and Marinette got out of the car and thanked the Mayor once more for helping them return.

“Hey guys!” Adrien greeted them.

“Adrien!” Marinette exclaimed.

“I heard you were trying to get the picture retaken?”

Marinette's smile turned awkward, and she got the memory card out of her purse.

“Yeah, uh, I kinda... stole the photographer's SD card?”

Adrien and Juleka looked at Marinette and the card in absolute surprise... and then cracked up laughing.

“Don't laugh at me!” Marinette yelled, embarrassed.

“A cutie criminal!” Juleka chortled.

----

Vincent was putting up the camera in position, when two of the students came up to him.

One of them was Adrien.

And the other was young Marinette, the girl he had met back during the photoshoot at the park.

“Excuse me? You dropped this,” Marinette said, handing him his camera's SD card.

“Oh! Grazie!” He had thought it was in the camera, and it had been just a few minutes before that he had noticed it wasn't there. He inserted it in its slot, and it worked perfectly.

But Marinette and Adrien were not done yet, apparently.

“Sir, one of our students wasn't in the photo,” the girl asked, her hands in a begging position. “Can you please retake it? We want a class photo by the most awesome of photographers, pleeeeease!”

He smiled, and then he looked at Adrien, who was right behind the girl, blushing.

“Please?” he whispered.

Ah, these two. They would go far.

“Well, if you put it that way...” he said, and Marinette grinned.

“Yay!”

And Adrien turned red like a tomato.

While Marinette went over to tell her friends the news, he turned to Adrien, smirking just enough.

“It's not like you to ask for favors,” he commented, and Adrien looked away, embarrassed.

“Uhhhh...”

“Couldn't have anything to do with your bella amica, does it?”

“Don't tell my father. I will pay you anything to keep this to yourself.”

Vincent laughed and winked at the boy.

“Tell him what? Come on, go, they are waiting for you.”

Adrien thanked him and left, and he sighed.

“Ah, young love...”

----

Instead of the school gym, they were now at the park, and Juleka was right there in the middle of the group, ensuring that she would be in the photo.

“Okay, are we all ready?” Vincent called out, since there were two missing students from the group.

“Whatever. I already have my photo!” Chloé declared. Sabrina was unsure of what to do, but then Alix stood from her place at the side of the group.

“SABRINA! GET OVER HERE! C'mon, hustle!”

Sabrina smiled. Given her friendship with Chloé, she had never felt welcome in the group... but now they were asking her to join them!

“C-Coming!” she replied, rushing over.

The photo was finally taken, and everyone cheered up, with Rose giving Juleka the hug she had been unable to earlier.

“Your curse is totally broken, Juleka!” she said, joy pouring over her voice.

“Merci beaucoup, Adrien and Marinette!” Juleka said, as Vincent showed Alya and Marinette the photos he had taken of the group.

Alya pouted a bit: she had missed the fun, after all.

“But man, if only I could've gotten pictures this good of that cat girl!”

Juleka turned and gave her an uncharacteristic smirk, brandishing her cellphone with a photo.

“Actually, I've got some.”

Adrien gasped, a blush coating his cheeks.

Marinette looked about to begin laughing.

And Alya...

“WHAT?!”

… dived after the phone. Juleka took off running, and began to laugh as Alya ran behind her in an attempt to get her hands on that photo.

Amidst the chaos, Adrien turned to look at Marinette, smiling.

“Whoever she was, she handled it pretty well.”

And Adrien was rewarded with her blush and her smile.

“Y-Yeah.” Marinette leaned back, looking up to the sky. “Being a superhero... would be pretty cool.”

----

Not yet... but perhaps soon, Fu thought.

----

The moment Alya returned from her persecution and put her hands over her shoulders, her eyes sparkling, Marinette knew.

“Ah, Juleka told you. Do not put this on your blog. I consent to you knowing, not all of Paris!”

----

In a floating home at the Seine, Juleka returned all smiles and joy.

“So, how'd it go?”

“Well, not so great at first,” she admitted. “I'll spill the tea later. But Marinette totally broke the curse! We got so many pictures!”

He grabbed the phone, and checked the photos – one of which was of Juleka along with a cute black-haired girl with blue eyes.

“Huh. Marinette...”

----

Timebreaker

@zoe-oneesama I wonder what Hawkmoth would say if he got Reflekta'ed. “Why did I give her such a lame power?” probably.

Hope I got to show Juleka's emotional rollercoaster in a way that makes justice to Scarlet Lady!

#scarlet lady #scarlet lady is better than canon #milarqui #fanfiction #long post #reflekta #juleka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #maotif #appropriate cultural clothing?

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dual-ies · 2 years

Text

hi, this is @frindoka ‘s Squid Blog! ☝️ here’s Some of my guys (all agents, i have some other ones too), i made this primarily to just post about my ocs for fun lol. short blurbs are under the cut !

my splatoon oc universe is some sort of convoluted weird splat3 au, but hey, i’ll make it make sense one day. contains splatoon 3 spoilers as well

new/neo agent 3 (ari): they/them

very airheaded and spaces out a lot.

named their lil buddy “fortnite” because they thought it would be cool (they found a super beat up copy buried somewhere and thought of it as ancient treasure or something. lol)

kind of stumbled into the sewer on accident and was immediately appointed to agent despite having no fucking clue what’s going on. is fine with it.

sibling of adonis- still reeling from the fact their sibling has been working for the new squidbeak splatoon for a While before they joined. explains the random disappearances.

autistic! doesn’t pick up on most social cues, and has a resting blank face. very friendly though!

fortnite is their best friend if you say anything mean about fortnite they WILL cry and then bite you and then cry again. in that order

chin scar from banging their chin on the edge of a table when they were younger. very embarrassed by this

internet friends with 4/caiman since caiman lives in THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOWHERE? and ari in splatsville. they visit each other sometimes though.

agent 3 (anchor): they/them

Also autistic (can u tell i’m projecting.), stone-faced and threatening looking, actually kind of a dork and a loser and is pretty nice. doesn’t speak to most people, if they have to it’s in whispers and short sentences. not cause they’re mean at all though

definitely weird and strange and off putting. eats rocks for fun, will shovel the snow from alterna in their mouth if they were dared to do it.

that sanitization scar is still there uh oh

fond of fortnite. Fortnite is Not Fond of them. also ari thinks they have cooties from ripley/8. anchor doesn’t have cooties (promise)

lots of scars that they’ll insist are from cool battles but they literally just. trip and fall a lot. a few Are from fights but most of them.. are from clumsiness.

agent 24 …..

agent 8 (ripley): he/she

got her nose scar during the fight with 3 while they were sanitized. 3 feels real bad about it still

generally very kind and caring and has a smooth voice, welcoming yet weary around strangers- takes a bit for him to warm up but he’s like the nicest person you will ever meet otherwise

likes nudibranchs. fond of those little beasts!!!

really fuckin good whenever she decides to participate in turf war it’s Kind Of Scary. primarily uses snipers or sloshers.

has visited splatsville a few times. seen fortnite once. she loves him he is her pal!!! her buddy!!!!!!! fortnite is indifferent.

agent 4 (caiman): he/she/they

transed gender. (tbh all of them are but like. most explicitly obvious) named themselves after caimans cause they bite people too.

has gotten into a LOT of fights and has tripped and fallen a LOT, resulting in near constant bruises and scrapes and a few scars. anchor tries to get them to be more careful despite being on the same level of clumsiness…

loud and doesn’t shut up but like. real funny, cracks a lot of jokes but sometimes doesn’t understand the right time to make them.

loves fortnite. fortnite is fond of him. they’re pals!

caiman knows about ari’s agent work and vice versa (he let it slip on accident over a text and ari was horrified cause they work there too)

onto the. Not “Canon” Agents who r just originalll ocs

agent 6 (amaranth): she/he

friendly! excitable! very overwhelmingly positive person, sunshine pours out of him like a faucet and leaks into others hearts… even adonis’

had no friends before the squidbeak splatoon- her overly excitable behavior annoyed a lot of people she was around (those people sucked anyways help) , and they basically all abandoned her. gives her lots of Issues, but she’s healing.

relatively new recruit? has been there for a year ish at most. lives with adonis and ari & is in the Love w adonis lol (they’re dating!)

good at baking.

fortnite kind of scares him

agent 5 (adonis): they/it

was once kinda like amaranth (loud n excitable) before trauma hit them like a truck and now they’re super closed off and bitter. they learn how to be more open with amaranth and ari’s help and care.

former friends with agent X (tehyre divorced. squid divorced.) before X turned out to be working with Bad Guys (tm) - adonis ends up shooting/splatting them when their backs turned and feels a LOT of guilt over it

pays the rent for its apartment but sometimes ari and amaranth chip in

fun fact me making ari and adonis look similar was completely accidental, but i made them siblings to explain their similar appearances lol…

secretly really likes fortnite. it sneaks out salmon eggs from its side job @ grizzco to feed to him.

agent x (nobody knows! not even me!): they/them

mad scientist archetype.

works (worked) with mr grizz to create the fuzzy ooze after they respawned in a … completely random place. (with both their communicator + little respawn machine thing all broken) ended up a test subject for grizz to see if the fuzzy ooze worked before he scattered it about, and now the ooze is slowly overtaking their entire body.

generally a nuisance but not dangerous unless they want to be. kind of like deep cut but they show up way more frequently in random areas to bother adonis specifically.

what’s a fortnite?

generally feels a lot of resentment towards adonis but also mr grizz cause of the fuzzy ooze thing, but he’s their boss + he promised to reverse the effects… Eventually. Maybe.

they uh. they fcuking die btw like since their respawn thing is all broken (basically inklings/octolings have respawn machine things? attached to clothing/backpacks/whatever in order to respawn safely, specifically during turf wars, so they don’t end up just. Dying… but since X’s is broken and barely got them to respawn randomly in the first place, they die as soon as they get pushed into the water in alterna. rip bozo)

#splatoon 3 #splatoon #oc #ohmy god. this took me like 40 minutes to type #what autism does to a motherfcuker i’ll tell u that #lemme go tag all th individual ocs #neo 3 (ari)#3 (anchor)#8 (ripley)#4 (caiman)#6 (amaranth)#5 (adonis)#x (help)#ok anyways um. Hope u enjoyed my insane ramblings. my cephalopods are very dear to me #i’ll post my competitive team ocs once i get all of them designed! 😭

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