#{ He's an experiment gone wrong in the end so he is dangerous and deadly. }

[sabrinajenre96]

“The chemist and the glitters ”

Pairing: Michael Robinavitch x Doctor!Reader

Featuring: Spencer (5), Payton (16), and Y/N’s glitter-suffering parents

Setting: Home + The Pitt

Warning: a lot of glitters, experiments gone wrong

---

It started with good intentions. A classic mistake.

Spencer, future glitter chemist-slash-unlicensed hazard, had been left in the garage under the very naive supervision of her grandmother while Payton retreated to her room to read her latest fantasy doorstopper. Y/N’s dad had taken Kojo out for a walk. Simple. Peaceful.

Then Spencer whispered the five most dangerous words in the English language:

“I saw this on YouTube.”

---

The glitter volcano erupted in a glorious shimmer-bomb across the garage. It sparkled. It shimmered. It booby-trapped the floor into a deadly slip-and-slide.

Grandma went down first. Spencer, determined to help, rushed in like a pint-sized paramedic—slipped, twirled midair like a tragic ballerina, and landed right next to her, covered in a rainbow sparkle of shame.

Payton only emerged when she heard the “ow!” and the “are you okay!?” followed by, disturbingly, the sparkle of guilt.

She did what any bookworm would do in crisis: she panicked with surprising efficiency. Grandpa’s phone was called. Grandma refused to dial 911 (“It’s just glitter, Payton, not a bullet wound!”), so Payton rolled her eyes so hard it nearly dislocated her soul and ordered Grandpa to take the fallen soldiers to The Pitt.

---

At The Pitt

Dana spotted them first. Glitter-cloaked grandma. Pouting five-year-old. Frazzled grandpa. And Payton, emotionally detached from the circus, reading in the waiting area like a war-weary general.

She radioed in:

“Uh… Robinavitch. You’ve got… sparkle casualties incoming. Family ones.”

Michael and Y/N immediately abandoned their charts.

They found Payton outside the exam room, standing beside Y/N’s dad, still holding her book like it was shielding her from the madness.

Michael blinked. “What happened?”

Payton flipped the page. “Garage. Glitter bomb. Spencer’s experiment. Grandma slipped. Spencer slipped. I called Grandpa. He was walking Kojo. Grandma said not to call 911. Now we’re here.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why do I feel like you’ve practiced saying that?”

“I have younger siblings. You either become a lawyer or a therapist.”

---

Inside the exam room, it looked like Mardi Gras had sneezed on everyone.

Spencer was sitting on the exam table, arms crossed, sparkling like a disco ball of rebellion. Grandma, meanwhile, had glitter in her hair, glitter in her shoes, and the expression of a woman who had Seen Things.

Michael stared. “Why is she gold.”

Spencer pouted. “It was gonna be a volcano with lava.”

Y/N checked her mom, relieved at the minor bruises. No sprains. No fractures. Just mortification and enough glitter to qualify as a holiday ornament.

“We’ll be finding glitter in this hospital for the next week,” Y/N muttered.

Michael snorted. “Garage is gonna be worse. That’s my day off now.”

“I regret nothing,” Spencer declared.

“You’re banned from experiments for a month.”

“WHAT?!”

---

After patch-ups, Y/N’s parents offered to take the girls home. But Y/N refused.

“Nope. Mom needs to recover. You both need a nap and wine. The girls will stay here until we’re off. They can behave for a few hours. Hopefully.”

Grandma mumbled something about trauma and industrial glitter.

Payton remained unbothered, already back into her book, likely imagining herself in a non-sparkly realm with dragons and less drama.

---

Later That Night

They got home after shift-end, drained, dragging themselves through the door like they’d crawled out of a post-apocalyptic ER drama. Kojo greeted them by barking aggressively at Michael, clearly upset his dog walk had ended early and he’d been abandoned during The Glitter Fiasco.

“Kojo,” Michael sighed, “don’t start.”

Y/N toed off her shoes. “At least it’s over.”

Michael opened the garage to check the damage.

“OH COME ON.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He stepped back into the kitchen, deadpan. “Your car. The driver’s side. It’s glittered. Halfway. It looks like a unicorn did a burnout on it.”

Spencer peeked around the corner. Still pouting. “I said I regret nothing.”

Payton, setting the table with Y/N, smirked. “Maybe you should pick a calmer hobby. Like reading. Or meditation. Or not glitterbombing property.”

Spencer stuck her tongue out. “Reading is boring.”

“You say that now,” Payton said, dropping plates. “Wait until you glitter the wrong book and see how fast I report you to NASA.”

Michael scooped up Spencer with a sigh. “Let’s get the sparkle demon cleaned up.”

“I’m not a demon. I’m a scientist.”

“Einstein didn’t cover his grandma in glitter.”

“He should’ve.”

---

Dinner was thankfully already cooked. Y/N’s parents had managed it before they were sacrificed to the Sparkle Gods. Everyone sat down—tired, full of carbs, surrounded by low-grade glitter trauma.

Kojo curled up by the table with the heaviest sigh ever recorded in dog history.

Michael raised a glass of soda. “To glitter. May we never see it again.”

Y/N clinked his glass. “You know we will.”

Spencer grinned, cheeks full of garlic bread. “Maybe… with SLIME next time.”

Michael’s face went pale.

Payton nearly choked laughing.

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, whispering, “You love being a girl dad, admit it.”

He groaned. “Yeah. I do. But I’m putting a glitter ban in the marriage vows.”

---

The End.

[e-vasong]

48 for the micro story meme! :D

AHHH - sorry this is so late! I went on vacation, and now I have the flu, and very little writing has been done.

LOVE this prompt though, and it gave me the excuse to write a ficlet that's been on my mind for ages now!

---

48 - Rampage

The basement was a mess.

Well, the entire house was a mess. Paintings had been torn from the walls. The couch was upended, one of its cushions flung so far that it had landed atop the stove. Several jars of spices were cracked, their contents trickling off the counters like sand in an hourglass. But the basement—the basement was certainly the worst of all. It still shook, the cheap paneling of the walls cracking and groaning under a great outward pressure.

Edwin eyed the prone body of one Paul Rowland, which was splayed gracelessly at the top of the stairs. There was a vicious gash on his temple, so deep that it was nearly a dent. His skull was not broken, though—or at least not badly, Edwin could discern that much with even a cursory glance. More importantly, he was breathing. 

It would be no great loss if he weren’t, except for the fact that Charles would have regretted it.

Descending the steps wasn’t especially difficult, even with all the debris still swirling in the air, bouncing off the walls with deadly force before promptly ricocheting into the next obstacle. A living being would be in no small amount of danger, but Edwin could let the projectiles pass through him with little more than a thought.

Charles had never gone full poltergeist before. Edwin, on the other hand, had some experience in that arena—even if he generally tried to avoid thinking about it as such.

“Charles,” Edwin called. He kept his voice low. So low that he couldn’t be entirely sure that Charles heard him, as his words were quickly swept up in the wind and whisked away as if for safekeeping. Still, it was better to risk being too quiet than too loud. When a spirit degraded under extreme pressure and became a poltergeist, they entered a state as uniquely vulnerable as it was exceptionally powerful. Like a raw nerve exposed to open air, everything hurt them.

There was frost creeping up the walls, Edwin noted, and one of the pipes in the ceiling had burst with frozen water. He had no breath to cloud the air, but when he took a steadying breath he thought he saw a plume of steam anyway.

Charles must have heard him—or at least some part of him did, because nothing even attempted to stop Edwin from reaching the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh dear,” he said, when he arrived.

Charles looked as he had in the attic, the very night they met. Soaking wet, shaking violently, dripping water from the ends of his curls. Except now, he was not curled up in a corner. Instead, he was pacing. His trainers squelched as he walked, laden with phantom water, and with each step the entire basement seemed to shake.

“Charles,” Edwin tried again, after a few moments. The word took too long to reach Charles’ ears—it must have been ten seconds between Edwin saying his name and Charles turning to face him.

“Edwin?” he said. A second pipe burst overhead.

“Yes,” Edwin replied, unable to keep the relief out of his own voice. He had perhaps eight possible plans for pulling Charles out of this state and back into his right mind, but that Charles actually remembered who Edwin was would make things easier. “I came as quickly as I could. I—” Charles had wanted to go to the funeral alone. Edwin hadn’t even suspected something was wrong until Charles didn’t come back. “What happened, Charles?”

Charles’ eyes were glossy with unshed tears, but at Edwin’s question, they became nearly wrathful. The wind died down around them. 

“He had her buried,” Charles said. A few items—half a shattered tape-player, a coat hanger, an old trophy, the broken leg of a stool—picked themselves up from where they’d just clattered to the floor and promptly embedded themselves into the wall with startling violence, one in time with each word.

“Ah,” Edwin said. “I see.” He didn’t see, actually. Burying the dead was the done thing, wasn’t it? But times had changed, so perhaps he was wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Charles wailed. A proper wail too, in a piercing, inhuman pitch that only a wrathful spirit could reach. It was the sort of sound that the natural world recoiled from. Literally.

“She wanted to be cremated!” he spat out eventually, in an octave lower than Edwin had ever heard from him before. Edwin stared, then started forward on instinct when Charles promptly collapsed to his knees and began sobbing. 

Edwin was not especially good at catching people when they fell. Obviously. He was also, unfortunately, not especially good at comforting them afterward. Still, he knew Charles well enough to take a stab at it. 

He made his way over to Charles and crouched down beside him, hesitating for only a moment before he put a hand on Charles’ shoulder. 

They remained there for quite some time. The worst of the storm seemed to have passed, except for the occasional heave and shudder of the house in time with Charles’ sobs.

“She asked me,” Charles choked out, eventually. He scrubbed at his face, before promptly burying it in his knees again, curling into something terribly small and vulnerable beneath Edwin’s touch. “She asked me to make sure dad had her cremated, because he was talking about getting a family plot, and he said he’d listen but she didn’t think he meant it and,” Charles stopped, took a heaving breath, then said again: “She wanted to be cremated. And she asked me to make sure. Because she was Hindu, y’know? But also because…”

Charles had been cremated, Edwin thought. He’d never looked into it at the time. As far as he knew, Charles was more irreligious than anything, but then he certainly seemed to regard his Hindu background more favorably than the Catholic one, so perhaps not. 

Charles’ voice hitched. “She always said it looked cold down there. She hates the cold, Edwin. Hated.” A pause, accompanied by a quiet sob as the last of the shakes finally faded from the house. “S’not fair. She wasn’t supposed to die first.”

Edwin pressed his eyes shut, praying that the momentary darkness might offer some spark of divine inspiration, some insight into how he might repair all this mess. None came. Charles was right, despite the fact that Edwin still thought Vaishnavi Rowland was a rather lackluster parent. It wasn’t fair—that she had preceded her spouse in death, that she had died so far from where her son might intercept her soul and exchange a final goodbye. That her reprobate of a husband sought to exert some form of ownership over her even in death.

“She isn’t there,” Edwin offered quietly, drawing Charles closer. “She isn’t…cold. Your mother, the part of her that matters is elsewhere now.”

“Yeah,” said Charles, though he tilted his head into Edwin’s shoulder. It laid there with an impossible weight. “That’s the fucking problem, innit.”

[aventurineswife]

reader and their partners (Kaveh and Veritas) went on a secret mission together. They were a team with many accomplished missions. However, this time, they went undercover into a meeting. Not knowing it was secretly a trap set for them. The room was set with bombs and they merely had five seconds to leave. As they tried to run out of the place, reader ended up pushing Kaveh and Veritas out of there just in time, but that caused them to slow down, which meant they didn't get to leave in time. Causing them to be caught in the explosion. Leaving them unconscious and damaged in many ways. Especially their back, the explosion Leaving a nasty scar on their back. Now, Veritas and Kaveh need to act fast before they lose their partner.

Through Smoke and Sacrifice

Summary: When a secret mission goes awry, Kaveh, Ratio, and you are caught in a deadly trap. You sacrifice yourself to push them out of harm's way, but the explosion leaves you gravely injured, with a deep scar on your back as a permanent reminder of your selflessness. As you fight for your life, Kaveh and Ratio work together to stabilize you, their bond growing stronger as they confront their shared fear of losing you. Amidst the pain and chaos, the trio’s love and determination shine through, proving that even in the darkest moments, their connection is unbreakable.

Tags: Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mission Gone Wrong, Found Family, Emotional Vulnerability, Sacrifice, Partners to Lovers, Caring, Protective, Tender Moments.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries, Themes of pain and trauma, Explosion and near-death experience, Emotional distress.

The mission had been routine for Kaveh, Ratio, and you. At least, that’s how it had seemed when you first stepped into the meeting room, cloaked in secrecy, blending in among the city’s elite. You, Kaveh, and Ratio were a well-oiled team, renowned for your strategic brilliance and flawless execution. However, this time, it was different. This time, it was a trap.

You had noticed the tension in the air before Kaveh or Ratio did, but there was no time to warn them. The first sign of danger was the faint hiss of something mechanical. Ratio’s eyes, always sharp and penetrating, flicked towards you, his voice low with urgency. “We need to leave. Now.”

But it was already too late.

A violent explosion shook the room, reverberating through the walls like a thunderclap. You acted on instinct, pushing Kaveh and Ratio forward as the world around you began to crumble. The blast threw your body against the debris-riddled walls, pain coursing through your limbs, but you didn’t care. You had to get them out. You had to protect them. You shoved them, urged them forward, but in that moment, the seconds were like years, and the air was thick with smoke and dust.

"Go!" You yelled, your voice hoarse as you struggled to keep your balance. The seconds stretched on. “Move!”

Kaveh and Ratio pushed against the overwhelming force of the explosion, but your push had slowed them down, just enough. The room went dark for a split second—just long enough for the blast to tear into your backs. The last thing you felt was the searing pain ripping through your skin.

When you awoke, it wasn’t in the sterile, calm environment of a clinic. No, it was the cold, unforgiving darkness of a place you'd never seen before, save for the silhouettes of Kaveh and Ratio huddled around you.

You gasped, your back on fire with pain. The world spun as you tried to sit up, but it was as though your body had forgotten how to move.

“Kaveh… Ratio…” You whispered, your voice strained with both panic and confusion.

Kaveh’s warm hand was instantly on your arm, his voice low and filled with a tremor that betrayed his usual composure. “[Name]… you’re awake. Don’t move. Just stay still.”

He sounded so relieved, but you could hear the anxiety threading his words. The pain in your back was unbearable. You could feel the raggedness of your breaths as you tried to control the panic rising within you.

“We need to get them out of here,” Ratio said urgently, his voice calm but sharp with the edge of someone used to handling emergencies. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced with a quiet desperation that matched Kaveh’s. “Kaveh, you stay with them. I’ll get the medical supplies.”

“No,” Kaveh's voice broke through. “I’m staying. You’re not leaving them.” His hand tightened around yours, his concern written plainly in his features. “You should know better than anyone, Ratio. You can’t do it all alone.”

For the first time since you'd met him, Ratio paused, his sharp gaze softening just a little. He looked over at you, his eyes filled with worry. “Fine. We’ll do it together. But we need to stabilize them before it’s too late.”

Kaveh’s fingers traced the edge of your hand gently, as if grounding himself in the contact. “You gave everything to save us. Don’t… don’t you dare leave us too.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t,” you managed to say, voice trembling. “I pushed you both out of the way… I couldn’t let you get caught in the blast.”

Kaveh’s breath caught in his throat, his usually bright eyes dimming with sorrow and guilt. “You were already… more than enough, [Name]. You saved us. You always save us.”

Ratio’s words, harsh but filled with underlying care, cut through the fragile atmosphere. “We need to act quickly. Now, hold still. I’ll need to apply the bandages properly, but don’t move. You’re not alone. We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

The room felt claustrophobic as Kaveh and Ratio worked together, their combined expertise a comforting presence despite the growing severity of the situation. Kaveh’s hands were gentle, his fingers brushing softly against your skin as he assisted Ratio in treating the damage to your back.

You could see the faint tremor in Kaveh’s hands, despite his best efforts to remain calm. And Ratio, usually so distant, was focused entirely on you, his usually harsh tone softened into something more compassionate.

“I don’t care about the mission anymore. You’re all that matters,” Kaveh whispered, his voice breaking. His hair hung loosely around his face, framing his expression of helplessness as he gently held you steady.

“We’ll get you through this, [Name],” Ratio added, his normally aloof demeanor softened by the worry in his eyes. “You’re stronger than this. We know you are.”

Despite the pain coursing through your body, you found yourself focusing on them. On Kaveh, who was so emotionally vulnerable yet strong when it mattered most, and Ratio, who, despite his bluntness, had never let you face anything alone. They were right there, willing to do anything, everything, to keep you safe.

The bond between the three of you was unspoken, but it was undeniable. This shared strength, this deep connection, would see you through. Together, you could face anything.

The hours passed, and though the pain remained, you could feel yourself being pulled back from the edge. Kaveh stayed by your side, whispering words of reassurance, while Ratio worked with cold precision, applying medicine and bandages where needed.

The feeling of safety, of being surrounded by them, became your anchor. And as the warmth of their care surrounded you, you couldn’t help but feel that, no matter the scars you would bear, you weren’t alone in this. Not anymore.

And as you fell back into a restful slumber, the weight of the explosion and the ordeal slowly lifted from your chest. Kaveh and Ratio were there. Always.

The world may have tried to tear you apart, but together, you were unbreakable.

[greylittlebird]

I do find Hogwarts Legacy’s ham-fisted moralizing of Sebastian’s storyline hypocritical and superficial. We’re supposed to see Sebastian’s determination to heal Anne as obsessive and dark but see Natty’s and Poppy’s equally emotionally-charged and dangerous missions as good and reasonable even when they have bad consequences. Both of them can succeed, only Sebastian’s mission is forced to be unachievable (despite obvious logical solutions the game just ignores) because the story wants to shove down our throats that Sebastian is wrong on very flimsy ground of “dark magic bad”. It never shows us WHY what he’s doing is bad other than superficially “it sounds and looks bad”.

Why is some kids with zero experience trying to stop organized criminals at real, tangible risk to self and others not considered “taking away darkness you shouldn’t” but trying to cure your sister’s terminal illness by understanding the source of it at the very vague possible risk that may or may not exist is? Why are we supposed to ignore Natty’s mom’s concerns for her safety (which end up being proven far more than Sebastian’s supposed danger) but listen to Ominis remind us every 5 seconds that “dark magic is bad” when he has no actual knowledge other than his family are sociopaths who torture people for fun (which would be evil no matter what they used). Sometimes you do need to accept things as they are but sometimes you have to take risks and sometimes a price is worth the reward. Doing something and not doing anything both have risks and rewards - and since the game never fucking tells us what the actual price or risk is in Sebastian’s story how can we make that choice? We can’t. The game keeps us in the dark.

And, no, Sebastian killing Solomon doesn’t show he’s gone dark because Solomon undeniably tried to kill Sebastian and his other 15-year-old friend. That had nothing to do with dark magic and Solomon fucking deserved it. Solomon came in like a big stupid oaf and destroyed the only thing stopping the zombies from attacking and then attacks the kids instead of protecting them from the zombies! Solomon continuously sent immobilizing and fire spells at kids who are being swarmed by one of the most deadly enemies in the game (and he doesn’t stop no matter how close to death we are). If you were running from a pack of wolves trying to eat you and someone who saw the wolves kept throwing a net around you to trap you, would you say they’re trying to kill you? Yes, you would so don’t even try me with trying to say Solomon didn’t mean to kill them or Sebastian “started it” with one basic cast. Sebastian and MC both tried several times to reason with and even begged Solomon to stop literally trying to kill children and he didn’t so killing him was self-defense (and defense of us) and completely 100% deserved.

Neither Anne nor Ominis witnessed Solomon relentlessly attack Sebastian and MC, if they did or if MC had a dialogue option to explain that I honestly think they’d have a different perspective. But the game can’t let us view this story for ourselves, they’re so dedicated to restricting the player to one interpretation and treating us like we can’t think for ourselves. Afterwards, Sebastian says “he never protected us, not really” and he’s right from all evidence we see. Solomon ALWAYS put his zealous beliefs and need confirm his biases over their lives. He seems to outright hate Sebastian so I doubt that abusive behavior started only after Anne got sick. He literally never once says a single positive thing about or to Sebastian who is 15, lost both his parents and is now losing his twin. He never once says “Sebastian means well but -“ (although he says this about MC who he just fucking met but not his nephew) or “We’re all suffering but -“. There’s no hint of compassion or affection, he is completely cold. Solomon is a despicable human being, even if he were 100% correct about Anne he would still be a vile piece of shit and a complete failure as a guardian to Anne and Sebastian. But likely he’s not right and he constantly puts his irrational, absolutist beliefs over Anne and Sebastian’s lives. They were never and would never be safe with this angry, selfish man.

When Anne was almost murdered by a loyalist, first of all, it’s worth noting that Sebastian only had to save Anne because Solomon failed to. He was the adult responsible for Anne and knows she is vulnerable but clearly wasn’t paying enough attention to her. He was more focused on telling us to not fight back (which is fucking stupid) than protecting Anne. Yes, there was a lot going on but an ex-auror should be able to multi-task and prioritize in a battle. And when Sebastian did save Anne, Solomon could’ve had a reasonable, moderate reaction where he was disturbed by the dark magic but was at all grateful or at least relieved that Anne was alive. He didn’t care at all about Anne’s life that was just almost ended, Sebastian was the ONLY threat he saw. Even if he reacted worse at first, he could calm down later. But, no, Solomon is a zealot who cannot be reasoned with like a normal human being. No reason or logic gets through to him, he just demonizes MC if we try. Solomon’s reaction in the moment and after is utterly deranged and indefensible. He couldn’t care less whether or not Anne was murdered, he ONLY cares about the spell choice (a choice that made sense because Unforgivables are the only thing guaranteed to break through any shield the goblin may have put up and it was a split second choice). Solomon clearly would’ve been happier to see Anne die rather than an unforgivable be used on a coward who was about to murder a defenseless young girl.

And of course throughout the entire story, Solomon is willfully letting Anne die a slow, painful death constantly gaslighting her that there is no way to help after trying only the most basic options available. And, no, I don’t buy that Anne just “knows” intuitively she can’t be cured. Anne reached for the shrivelfig and was visibly excited until Solomon crushed it before her eyes (even though it’s not even “dark magic”) and caused a flare-up, he won’t LET her have any hope at all. The kids aren’t allowed to think differently than him. Anything outside of his scope of understanding is bad. And Anne is too isolated and weak to fight him like Sebastian can. Him using some kind of dark magic once doesn’t make him an expert on it, Sebastian actually knows more after all his research. And it’s not even just a dark magic thing, like I said even the shrivelfig he wouldn’t allow. He may not want to give Anne false hope but that’s not all his choice to make for Anne and Sebastian. That should be the choice of the sick person and it’s very clearly from Solomon’s reaction to Sebastian that this isn’t a safe environment for Anne to decide for herself how she feels.

Honestly, I think we should’ve had a choice if we took the ancient magic to remove Anne’s pain and I don’t think what happened to Isidora’s father would happen. The issue there was Isidora took away her father’s grief, the only way to take away grief would be to take away love. Grief is deeply personal. That’s why he became a husk. But Anne’s pain is the opposite of that, it’s a curse forced on her from an outside source. It’s like a foreign virus that can be removed. Maybe that wouldn’t be how it would work but we don’t know because the Keepers (who I could write a whole other essay about, fuck the Keepers) and everyone was unwilling to learn, they got scared after one bad effect happened when one person used this magic one way. All magic can be used for good or bad but apparently we should just avoid things we don’t understand and never try to learn or grow or help people? We’re supposed to just bury our problems in a big hole in the ground and never deal with it (cause that worked so well before this games whole plot didn’t it…)? What an immature and stupid moral. Anyways, Sebastian did nothing wrong.

[richincolor]

Crystal's 2024 Favorites

This year was full of awesome new young adult books and as usual it was difficult to figure out which ones would make my list of favorites. There were about ten that stood out, but these are the final four that really made a lasting impression and I would highly recommend.

The Quince Project by Jessica Parra [Our Group Discussion] Wednesday Books

Castillo Torres, Student Body Association event chair and serial planner, could use a fairy godmother. After a disastrous mishap at her sister’s quinceañera, all of Cas’s plans are crumbling. So when a local lifestyle-guru-slash-party-planner opens up applications for the internship of her dreams, Cas sees it as the perfect opportunity to learn every trick in the book so that things never go wrong again.

The only catch is that she needs more party planning experience before she can apply. When she books a quinceañera for a teen Disneyland vlogger, Cas thinks her plan is taking off…until she discovers that the party is just a publicity stunt and she begins catching feelings for the chambelán. As her agenda begins to go off-script, Cas finds that real life may be more complicated than a fairy tale.

But maybe Happily Ever Afters aren’t just for the movies. Can Cas go from planner to participant in her own life? Or will this would-be princess turn into a pumpkin at the end of the ball?

Dragonfruit by Makiia Lucier [Crystal's Review] Clarion Books

In the old tales, it is written that the egg of a seadragon, dragonfruit, holds within it the power to undo a person’s greatest sorrow. But as with all things that offer hope when hope had gone, the tale came with a warning.

Every wish demands a price.

Hanalei of Tamarind is the cherished daughter of an old island family. But when her father steals a seadragon egg meant for an ailing princess, she is forced into a life of exile. In the years that follow, Hanalei finds solace in studying the majestic seadragons that roam the Nominomi Sea. Until, one day, an encounter with a female dragon offers her what she desires most. A chance to return home, and to right a terrible wrong.

Samahtitamahenele, Sam, is the last remaining prince of Tamarind. But he can never inherit the throne, for Tamarind is a matriarchal society. With his mother ill and his grandmother nearing the end of her reign. Sam is left with two choices: to marry, or to find a cure for the sickness that has plagued his mother for ten long years. When a childhood companion returns from exile, she brings with her something he has not felt in a very long time-hope.

But Hanalei and Sam are not the only ones searching for the dragonfruit. And as they battle enemies both near and far, there is another danger they cannot escape…that of the dragonfruit itself.

A Tempest of Tea (Blood and Tea #1) by Hafsah Faizal Farrar, Straus and Giroux

On the streets of White Roaring, Arthie Casimir is a criminal mastermind and collector of secrets. Her prestigious tearoom transforms into an illegal bloodhouse by dark, catering to the vampires feared by society. But when her establishment is threatened, Arthie is forced to strike an unlikely deal with an alluring adversary to save it—and she can’t do the job alone.

Calling on some of the city’s most skilled outcasts, Arthie hatches a plan to infiltrate the dark and glittering vampire society known as the Athereum. But not everyone in her ragtag crew is on her side, and as the truth behind the heist unfolds, Arthie finds herself in the midst of a conspiracy that will threaten the world as she knows it.

From the New York Times–bestselling author of We Hunt the Flame comes the first book in a hotly-anticipated fantasy duology teeming with romance, revenge, and an orphan girl willing to do whatever it takes to save her self-made kingdom. Dark, action-packed, and swoonworthy, this is Hafsah Faizal better than ever.

A Crane Among Wolves by June Hur [Crystal's Review] Feiwel & Friends

Hope is dangerous. Love is deadly.

1506, Joseon. The people suffer under the cruel reign of the tyrant King Yeonsan, powerless to stop him from commandeering their land for his recreational use, banning and burning books, and kidnapping and horrifically abusing women and girls as his personal playthings.

Seventeen-year-old Iseul has lived a sheltered, privileged life despite the kingdom’s turmoil. When her older sister, Suyeon, becomes the king’s latest prey, Iseul leaves the relative safety of her village, traveling through forbidden territory to reach the capital in hopes of stealing her sister back. But she soon discovers the king’s power is absolute, and to challenge his rule is to court certain death.

Prince Daehyun has lived his whole life in the terrifying shadow of his despicable half-brother, the king. Forced to watch King Yeonsan flaunt his predation through executions and rampant abuse of the common folk, Daehyun aches to find a way to dethrone his half-brother once and for all. When staging a coup, failure is fatal, and he’ll need help to pull it off—but there’s no way to know who he can trust.

When Iseul’s and Daehyun’s fates collide, their contempt for each other is transcended only by their mutual hate for the king. Armed with Iseul’s family connections and Daehyun’s royal access, they reluctantly join forces to launch the riskiest gamble the kingdom has ever seen:

Save her sister. Free the people. Destroy a tyrant.

[soullessjack]

to be fair shadow is also willing to kill people that are threats AND also manipulates eggman into doing a lot of his work for him because he planned on double crossing eggman. he's also been manipulated into believing different things in the shadow the hedgehog game endings. also jack has limiter rings (his soul). not sure if all of this applies to jack but i wanted to point it out at least.

nodding sagely and holding onto every word

honestly i think it’s so hard to draw a connection between them bc one externalizes their issues & abrasiveness while the other very much internalizes and masks himself altogether. if anything they’re more like two sides of the same coin instead of direct parallels, y’know?

also i love the idea that jacks soul is his inhibitor ring bc, like, yea! that’s almost exactly what it is! if we’re shooting for a very literal sense of it, I think it would work post-resurrection when jacks soul was actively limiting how much power he could use without imploding it (and therefore becoming more dangerous) (cough just like shadow) (cough 06) but in another sense he’s also [self] limited by his sense of empathy and the constant knowledge that he’s perceived as a threat (which is why he internalizes things like his temper & acts, well, the way he does).

jack cares a LOT about what ppl think of him, and shadow is largely indifferent about how he’s seen (cough 06) (we are NOT talking about the “do you think i’m dangerous” line from sonic 3 here also but that itself is a good parallel to jack). i’ll link a few specific posts abt soulless-jack once I find them but uhh TLDR jack without his soul and a lessened sense of empathy feels no obligation to mask. he’s more willing to voice harsher opinions, like being annoyed at everyone checking on him, and he. well. He tortured a guy to death and enjoyed it. like canonically it was cathartic to do that to Nick. so take that as you will 😊🫶

anyways, overall I think that..version(?) in particular is a lot closer to shadow than regular-jack. there’s also the fact that both of them at one point were suicidal (yes, one of shadow’s endings in the 2005 game included wanting to kill himself over what he did) (“i am shadow the hedgehog, a research experiment gone deadly wrong, I’ve caused so much destruction i should’ve never been created.”

I’m yapping now apolocheese

[monogatcri]

niwa, please tell us honestly... how are you feeling?

━━ ˟ ⊰🍁HOW IS HE FEELING ? Questions that lace themselves with such simplicity are oft ones that contain the most avenues to wander. Between his meeting with Nahida behind Ren's back and the discovery of his anonymous benefactor being his murderer, one could argue his entire world was spiraling ever downward. Tragedy was one step closer each day they trudged onward ; he knew that all good things must come to an end eventually -- a sad reality that he knew best than to bring up...

        Head does lower to hands, turning them over then over once more, watching the movement of digits and wrist, watching the simplest of moments as though they were to escape him in one sitting ; this was his second chance, but how he spent it shouldn't be based entirely upon his selfish desires of simply finding peace. While Dottore remained, people were harmed ; while Dottore remained, Ren and Nahida were in danger ; while Dottore remained, the past could never be rectified. Regardless of whatever this Fatui organization wanted, Niwa's purpose in life rested upon him stopping them -- before he potentially posed a threat to the world at large in some manner.

        Unfortunately, there also laid in his mind that thought as well: what is he? Is he truly a human being as is often stated by Ren or is he something else, something deadly that must eventually be removed from this existence. If Nahida isn't there to stop him should something go wrong, would Ren be willing to destroy him for the sake of humanity to avoid another calamity? In some respects, the bladesmith doesn't wish to place himself as something of high importance, yet the lingering fear of becoming what may destroy lives...? His life isn't worthy of sparing if he should lose control like that, though he can only hope it is snuffed out before havoc...

        Then there's the state of Tatarasuna, left to ruin and destroyed, that tatarigami continuing to sleep within that damned furnace ; if he had his way, the thing would be stomped to pieces or thrown to the abyss! Technology such as that continuing to existence will only lead to more disasters in the future and more deaths at its behest. Eyeing the state of his home as well...the ruins, the graves, the torn up documents of his past -- he recalls falling against cavernous walls as his shaking legs carried him to his hiding spot upon revival. Hollowed area echoed his soft cries as fists slammed uselessly against the hardened rock of ground.

        The more he remains silent, the more the thoughts surge forth: the Raiden Gokaden ruined, the Niwa Clan is gone, Katsuragi executed by Mikoshi's own hands, the fate of his name, the lies of the last four hundred years, the cruel experimentation upon his friend, his own body never being found --

        ... dizzying, dizzying, dizzying ...

        ... and yet ...

        Thin smile, fragile and sweet, graces his countenance. To tell someone, a complete stranger, of his pains and woes felt rude -- impolite and downright terrible -- so, being who he is, he pushes it aside and decides upon his answer with firmness and a steady tone: ❝ I'm feeling fine, really ; I suppose a little worn out from the travels and near death experiences, ❞ and the usage of the delusion quite frankly doesn't help matters but he digresses. It's spared him from a grim fate several times prior. ❝ I've seen much of the world that I'd have never witnessed before and reunited with someone precious to me. Is that not something to feel happy about? ❞

⊰🍁ask niwa personal questions!

[mirrorhaunt]

evelyn " evie " grimhilde

age: 25+ dob: december 24 height: 5'5" hair: black / dyed dark blue eyes: brown gender: cisfemale, she / her species: witch occupation: boutique owner / custom arms specialist

evie was born on the ' wrong side of the tracks, ' so to speak. more specifically, a run down island located off the west coast. her mother was obsessed a makeup-artist obsessed with vanity and her father was non-existent.

due to her upbringing, she can't help but be wrapped up in her own vanity. trying to be the fairest of them all was her obsession and she did anything she could to play into the role. fashion, makeup, accessories. if she could customize it to elevate it then, that's exactly what she did.

it wasn't until high school, when she met a boy named doug that she started to realize she was more than just a pretty face. in fact, she was smart. smart enough to get herself a scholarship for a business degree.

raised a witch, especially in the art of glamor magic, evie never realized how dangerous tempering with energy could be. she also never completely understood the depth of her mother's desire to be the prettiest woman in all the land. she was used to seeing things her mother deemed ' imperfect ' disappear overnight. no more crow's feet. white hair? gone without dye. lips? perfectly shaped. in fact, in all her years evie never say her mother age a day. for the longest time, it was completely normal to see.

she's never been able to figure out how that connects to her mother's death. only that it does. evie found a demon standing over her mother's desiccated corpse; as if every ounce of life had been sucked right out. for all the magic spells tucked away in evie's brain, she couldn't think of a single one to fight the thing in front of her. so, she used her mind to pull nearby things and catapult them at the stranger's body. the demon didn't say. just smiled and disappeared into the night.

fbi agent john smith knocked on the door the next morning. an alias, evie came to learn by the end of that week. an alias for a man who hunted these dangerous things all across the country to try and stop them from hurting anyone else. evie had no idea why her mother had attracted a demon but she knew she didn't want anyone else to experience the same thing.

so, she dove in.

while in college, she learned all she could about anything and anyone. john was willing to share some of that information. what he didn't know, he had a contact for. she started putting all these things to use by designing weapons to be more efficient, more deadly, and more practical than what she learned was in john's arsenal. suddenly, more hunters started contacting her for similar set ups. some just wanted something as simple as a practical way to hide the weapons they always carried around. others asked about bullets or weapon modifications.

despite her mother's influence disappearing, doug's constant support on her intelligence, and affirmations from her growing list of clients, fashion remained a passion project for evie. eventually, she decided she needed a store front. only, it would be a more legitimate business than the one she was becoming known for. 4 hearts was born.

[chronosbled]

Mister Dickson, how have you come to love a witch?

☣ — “A witch?” The words that come forth ever so clearly lack the usual playful tone that his voice normally possesses, making it evident that — whether she was a witch or not — he didn’t appreciate the term in how the question was asked. ‘How have you come to love a witch?’ As if she wasn’t worth loving in the first place. As if, just because she wasn’t human, she wasn’t worth loving. As if she wasn’t lovable. That thought alone was more than enough to make the smile on his face fade, leaving nothing but a blank canvas for an expression. “Do you think she’s a witch? Do you think that, because she’s different, she isn’t worth the time nor the effort I put into her?” His voice soon turns cold as he speaks, taking a single step closer towards the stranger, until they were backed against a nearby wall. “I can assure you that she is worth it. Every. Single. Second. She has always been worth far more to me than most of these useless human females that want nothing more than someone’s money and reputation.” Yes, that’s right, because every other woman that he’d met only ever wanted him for one thing or another — his money, his looks, his family name, his reputation, the things he could give them, the things he could do, the things they could brag about — but in reality, would scream and run in fear once they found out he wasn’t what they thought he was. Those that called him a monster. Those that no longer breathe after making such a claim.

☣ — “I love her because of the fact that she’s different. I love her because she isn’t afraid of me. I love her because she understands the pain and suffering I have gone through because she has also suffered. I love her because she loves me for how I am and doesn’t try to change me, instead she tries to help me achieve the things I strive for, she encourages me more than anyone else ever could. She doesn’t care that I am not mentally stable, nor does she care that I have done things that would make most humans claim me insane. She simply loves me. She loves me.” The fabled tale of achieving true love that had been spun for as many years as he could recall, dancing around within his mind ever since his mother had read him his very first fairy tale storybook — it was something that resonated deep within his being, even when he couldn’t understand such a feeling — he had been fascinated with such a concept, not because it seemed ideal, but because it seemed so foreign to him. The older he became, the more he began to crave the love and affection of someone he held dear, but alas... he had never been blessed by such a thing no matter how hard he strived for it — perhaps it was his fault for wanting such things from people that he clearly meant nothing to — his grandfather had never been capable of love after all. “Crystal will always be more important to me than anything else. She will always come before my studies and my work. She will never be second place in any sense of the word. She was able to take someone utterly incapable of feeling any type of human emotions... and somehow able to make them feel every positive emotion that could ever be felt. She was able to make me feel as if my heart didn’t belong to that of a monster, but a human being. She was able to make me feel human.”

☣ — His hand moves slowly, eventually coming to rest upon the strangers shoulder while the other hand seemingly disappears behind his back, emerging only a few seconds later with a rather large blade, the serrated edge resting gently against the other’s throat. “Now,” a barely visible smile begins to take over his features, “surely you see just how lovely a person she is? I’m sure that you understand completely why I love her, because if you don’t, then I’m afraid I’ll have to show you just how far I’m willing to go to show you my love for her. After all,” blade pressing further into the other’s neck just enough to draw droplets of blood, “I’m sure she would love to meet you. You would make a nice snack for her... and how she does love to play with her food~.”

[bctoastyyy]

>> PORTAL ACCIDENT(Dead Fish Boy AU) (prequel to Scales and Edges)

GHOST ZONE >> Dead Sea

Similar to the Ghost Zone, the Dead Sea is a world of the undead. It’s vast and confusing. It heavily resembles the many biomes of the ocean and sea trenches, but its otherworldly nature pulls it apart. (Basically,,,think of the ghost zone is like the ocean instead of space concept) 

FENTON THERMOS >> Fenton Fish Stick

It looks like a fishing pole but instead of a line out the top it is a harpoon. At the other end there is a spool of twine in a reel case with a spinning handle (y’know the ones,,,that you reel with on fishing poles,,,that) that ends in a net for catching and holding sea monster cores. Also yes hehe I had to name it this.

ACCIDENT >>

The Fenton Brine Pool was not actually a brine pool per se, but a synthetic hot-tub-like hole in the Fentons' lab designed to replicate the deadly conditions of one. They built it in the hopes to create a way into the hidden underworld of the sea- ever fascinated by sea monsters. It was as a way to study them and as a way to prove their existence…sea monsters are said to be creatures from beyond the grave born of souls lost at sea.

Though they’d been trying to create the right conditions for the portal to work for years, nothing seemed close enough. One night after a particularly brutal failure Danny snuck into the lab to snoop around by himself. His parents had been holed upstairs for days, dejected, and gone to bed early that night. His sister was in her room studying to apply for some mentorship so hard he swears she was in another plane of existence entirely. 

Danny knew the thing was dangerous, it was designed to mimic the inhabitable conditions of actual brine pools for crying out loud, so he knew to keep away from the edges of the pool. He was hardly dressed for the occasion as he’d only put on the top half of the wetsuit-hazmat amalgamate his parents insisted they all wear due to it being very lame even though he was alone and it was honestly too much of a hassle. He put on the gloves too but kept his jeans and sneakers on. 

He skirted around the hole in the floor, sticking around the flimsy and too spaced out ‘safety gate’ poles, more interested in the brine pool than potentially finding out what went wrong with it- his parents were the scientists here, not him, so if they hadn’t figured it out then he doubted he would. Fresh eyes and a second opinion never hurt though, but like hell he would ever share with his parents his mild interest, they’d go nuts and blow it out of proportion. And besides, he wasn’t here for the supposed ‘undead sea creatures’ part anyway- that was more Sam’s thing -he was here because of the nature of the synthetic brine pool. He was fascinated by the sea in a way his parents weren’t- like how people were space buffs -and had been getting increasingly more curious about it.

While he wasn’t watching his feet he almost tripped on the cables spiderwebbed across the ground and clumped into a thick plug. Oh. The stupid thing wasn’t plugged in all the way. Why something like this even needed to be plugged into an outlet in the first place was beyond him, but he crouched down to tighten it anyway. But then stopped and followed the cord over to the far wall where the physical wall outlet rested. It was plugged in fine over there, but that’s not what got his attention. 

There were three buckets filled to the brim with different glowing substances. He vaguely knew what they were, waste from all the different chemicals and experiments his parents had attempted before- but he was pretty sure they shouldn’t be out in the open or even near each other…who knows what could happen if they like reacted together or something. Normally his parents disposed of these better. 

Well, they were sleeping and he didn’t feel comfortable letting all of the unknown and potentially dangerous substances mingle together, so he groaned and picked up the bucket closest to him filled with brightly glowing green goop. It was more liquidy than he thought, however, and some of it sloshed over the lip onto the shirt of his wet-hazmat suit and the floor. “Shit, shit, shit.” Oh, he was thankful he’d at least put on the top half of the suit, he didn't want to know what that stuff would have done to him without that layer of ‘protection.’ 

But he did make a mess on the floor and- oh no, he’d gotten some of it in the other buckets. Panicking, he picked up the one filled with orange sludge that was beginning to foam from the drops of green that’d splashed into it in his other hand and rushed away from the third bucket. He needed to separate these now before they all reacted together. But then he tripped on the plug he’d fixed earlier. He’d forgotten to tuck it back into the floor panel to make the floor more flush!

Both of the buckets flew out of Danny’s hands as he tumbled to his knees, and clunked onto the ground splashing the contents all over him and all over the circuits and pool. “Oh, no, no, no!” he yelped and quickly rose, trying in vain to get the crud off of him, but stopping in his tracks as he noticed the brine pool bubbling and smoking. “That can’t be- Woah!” Suddenly the wires below him sparked and crackled causing him to stumble forward. His foot slipped in one of the puddles and he fell headfirst into the pool.

After passing out, floating in a sea of greens and blues, he eventually woke up. Not sure how long, but that didn’t matter much. His throat was raw…he’d been screaming. A lot, probably. Everything hurt from the outside leading deep within his body too, and it all felt wrong.  But that wasn’t the only thing that felt wrong, his current environment was causing a rising panic. 

It’s not that he didn’t know where he was, dazed as he was. He knew exactly where he was, immediately. 

The Dead Sea- it had to be.

How he hadn’t gotten attacked by something floating still like he had been, he had no clue, but having absolutely no desire to be there any longer, he turned himself around sharply like he were swimming in a normal pool of water. Instead of his parent’s brine pool, or whatever hell world the Dead Sea was.

He managed to propel himself back up through the portal that was thankfully close and easy to spot, and clambered out of the pool. It was a feat that he was even alive after something like that…though it was definitely understandable that when he tried to stand he doubled over and got sick several times before succeeding. He was definitely ignoring the sea sludge and glowing contents he’d coughed up.

Danny managed to crawl and stumble his way over to the more standard basement portion of the lab and into the bathroom. He beelined for the toilet and coughed up whatever was left, and then turned the tap on at the sink. When he looked up, the reflection in the mirror was not of himself, it was of a horrible and creepy creature with bright green glowing eyes. 

And that’s when he realized he’d become a sea monster. His hands were clawed with four fingers that were held together with webs. He was covered in scales and fins, he was most definitely glowing, and he also most definitely had a tail and spines on his back. His hair was damp and white, his ears pointed and long, and his eyes were the color of the awful pool he had fallen into. Bright green slit eyes were set in a dark hollow ring, it was terrifying.  After deciding he needed help, he sneaked and stumbled out of the house and made his way through the pouring rain to Tucker’s house. His parents were home, but he was terrified to see them- for a multitude of reasons. His sister was busy and probably wouldn’t hear him at her door. Sam’s house was a no-go, her parents didn’t like him on a normal day. Besides, he’d really like the presence of his best friend from childhood, his brother of sorts. Tucker’s house it was. Danny wasn’t sure what time it was, but that hardly mattered, he just hoped Tucker would be there for him.

[gatheringbones]

["At the end of August in 1981, I found myself in a small town in Arkansas, where I knew no Lesbians other than my new lover, Lynn. I wanted it that way. We were living in hiding from my armed and vengeful ex-lover who had abused me for four years and had threatened both of us with deadly harm. This was five years before the publication of Kerry Lobel's ground-breaking book, Naming the Violence: Speaking Out About Lesbian Battering. I knew I had been battered, but I did not understand how deeply I had been injured.

I only knew that I seemed to have saved my life at the cost of my sanity. I jumped at loud and not-so-loud noises. A frown from a stranger could reduce me to tears. I was afraid to bathe if I was alone in the apartment. I relived every word of every fight in relentless flashbacks. I had blocked much of the unbearable pain of the previous four years out of my consciousness at the time, in order to cope with immediate danger. Now that I was "safe" it all came flooding back. To escape, I watched TV compulsively, avoiding anything violent—nature shows were my favorites—and I read science fiction. Having lost faith in women as well as men, I was a serious candidate for a species-change operation.

Luckily, at some point in that bleak winter, I read a magazine article on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in Vietnam Vets, and I recognized all my symptoms. I had a name for my suffering, and 1 knew I was not "crazy." I'd felt so much guilt and anger towards myself for not being okay, that is, my old self, since I was "free." Now I knew healing would take time and effort, and I gave myself permission to not be normal right away. Also, seeing how much my condition resembled that of war survivors helped break down some of my denial about the hell I'd been through.

Still, I had no guidance on how to recover from PTSD. I followed only the dimmest instincts. First, I began to read accounts by survivors of any serious trauma. These people became my invisible support group. I found myself drawn especially to stories of political prisoners and concentration camp survivors. Although my experience was not like theirs, these were the people I felt would understand how my will had been sapped and my strengths twisted, how the smallest acts of resistance and mere endurance had needed all my wits and courage. Bruno Bettleheim in his chapters called "Behavior in Extreme Situations" (The Informed Heart) finally answered the question I'd put to myself every 44 hour since my escape: "How could I have been so stupid?" He made me realize that under abuse, especially the combination of intermittent threats, unpredictable violence and constant psychological torture, everyone responds differently, but everyone changes fundamentally, and everyone has their breaking point.

One day as I sat reading at the kitchen table, I looked out the window at the small yard beside our duplex apartment, and I began to imagine growing a garden there in the spring. It seemed like a highly improbable idea: the area was very small, steep, bare of everything but gray shale and orange clay, and the house shaded it part of the day. But the notion of a garden took root strongly. For the first time in several years I had something pleasant to anticipate.

I wrangled my landlady's permission to put in a garden. Then I mailed off postcards for seed catalogs. I persuaded an acquaintance who owned a truck to bring me a load of cedar slabs discarded by a local sawmill, and I used these to construct two frames, about four feet by six feet, and two even smaller ones, just three feet by four feet. By this time Lynn and I had saved enough money to buy a very old VW bug, so we drove to a nearby creekbank and filled bushel baskets with rich bottom dirt, which we dumped into the frames to make raised beds about four inches deep.

To supplement the tiny growing space, Lynn scavenged large cans from the cafeteria of the hospital where she worked. I painted them a hopeful green, filled them with soil and placed them along the sidewalk below our porch. Old-timey "Corn-row Beans," originally bred to tolerate the shade of cornfields, grew up strings tied to the roof and bore prolifically.

I didn't have much money from my SSI income to spend on garden gadgets, so I made do. I wove a trellis for my peas from six-pack rings liberated from a liquor store trash bin. (I can testify that this plastic never biodegrades—the pea fence survives to this day.) I got some more bushel baskets from the local grocery, painted them with non-toxic preservative and lined them with garbage bags after snipping a few drainage holes in the bottom. Placed around a small stone patio above the garden, these became containers for large plants.

The garden rewarded me before the first mouthful of early spinach was harvested. It moved me out of the gloomy apartment and into the sunshine, watering can in hand. It motivated me to interact with people and to occasionally risk asking for help. I found out they would usually say yes. My attention was now focused on the future, not the bitter, unchangeable past. At night when the flashbacks threatened to roll, when I dreaded the dreams I might have, I put myself to sleep with 45 detailed plans of my next crop rotation. I found out I could learn a major new skill, a little at a time. I could do things right, even come up with ingenious solutions to seemingly impossible difficulties. And when I did things wrong, plants were most often forgiving. The plants themselves were a tremendous source of inspiration. Talk about survivors! They defied every book written about their needs, often thriving with too little sun, too little water, and too little soil. At the end of a year, I could easily stick my shovel in the dirt up to the hilt, where only four inches of top soil had previously existed; compost and the action of the roots had created friable loam out of shale and clay.

When I experienced failure with gardening, it was never the kind of disaster I'd grown to associate with mistakes. We didn't go hungry, because other crops outstripped our expectations. My lover didn't beat or berate me, but sympathized and helped. The garden was important to us economically, because we'd both lost almost everything we owned in our escape. Luckily, in southern Arkansas, it's possible to garden yearround. The garden gave me precious, desperately needed tastes of success. Disabled, unemployed, I still felt like an important contributor to the household. I even had food to give away sometimes, and that was a delicious feeling.

Gardening was not the only factor in my recovery, but it was an important one. I didn't grow up with abuse, but battering and similar traumas can expand minutes into hours, years into decades, until four years feel like most of a lifetime. At the end of a year and a half of gardening, I no longer felt as if I'd spent the majority of my life in a battering situation. Healing had acquired a new definition for me: I didn't insist on having the old me back; I'd mourned her long and well. I accepted the fact that some injuries are too severe to be made whole, that I might never be the same again. But I began to actually like and trust the me I am now, scars and all. As my garden taught me, I must make do with what I am. I have discovered that my flaws are not fatal and my successes are greater than I'd hoped for. So far I have not gone hungry, and I even have something to offer."]

Amy Edgington, Gaining Ground, from Garden Variety Dykes: Lesbian Traditions In Gardening, Herbooks, 1994

[consulsmirror]

You mentioned recently that you’ve done a lot of healing in ffxiv - I wanna get more into tanking so I was wondering, what are some of the main things you see tanks doing wrong?

I'm only recently learning to tank at the behest of my boyfriend but I've healed for him for long enough to know what's good tanking and what's shit tanking. This is more advice than anything else i think

1 - if your healer looks and acts like a cat that's just been dunked in water and is quivering and throwing up everywhere, ask what pull sizes they want or adjust in a manner that gives them (and by proxy both you and the rest of the party) a better experience. examples of this being; they are in on level gear. they are in baby artifact gear. you have just died to a pull that you should have been able to survive.

additionally, if you die and the healer dies and everything has gone to shit please god wait for the healer to get back BEFORE pulling the next pack. THIS APPLIES TO WAR TOO BTW. I KNOW YOU GUYS ARE HEALERS NOW BUT SHAKE IT OFF AND BLOODWHETTING ARE NOT A GOOD SUBSTITUTE FOR A HEALER ALL OF THE TIME.

2- we recently ran into a tank in the 6.2 dungeon who Did Not Mitigate because "[the healer] was doing fine and i wanted to let them shine" NO!!! I Want To DPS I Will Kill You If You Make Me Hardcast Cure II. A healer should be damaging in addition to healing, if you don't do your mitigation rotations and let them do all the work you're only doing half a job and the damage you'll gain from slacking like this isn't worth the goodness that shall be drained from your soul.

3- in situations where you are co-tanking, wait to turn on your stank (tank stance) until the mt has built up enough aggro to avoid fighting for you with aggro (usually its like 30 seconds into the fight if memory serves) if you are fighting for aggro and switch halfway through the fight without it being a proper tank swap (forced by mechs) then it becomes a lot harder to effectively heal whilst maintaining dps output.

4- vuln stacks don't do as much harm to tanks as to the rest of the party but it's still Very Stressful when a tank has 6 of them for No Good Reason. ple ase

5- asked my tank bf (kissing him btw) for some advice and he was like. face enemies north for the most part (AWAY FROM THE PARTY) and move with intention (dont wiggle about too much) or else your meelees with positionals (ninja gets the third part of their meelee combo at level 34 ish which is a positional, its something that should be considered regardless of content that you're running)

6- this might be a crystal thing but in alliance raids B tends to mt feel free to ask in alliance chat if anyone else wants to mt though

7- IF YOU'RE NOT WEARING A FUNNY OR SLUTTY GLAM YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!! GET THAT PUSSY AND OR COCK OUT. PUT ON THE CHOCOBOBHEAD. people will be more willing to forgive your mistakes if you're just a little guy im deadly serious a funny tank that fucks up more will get more leeway than one who takes themselves too seriously

8- HAVE. A CHAT MACRO FOR YOUR INVULNS. I BEG OF YOU . I NEED TO KNOW WHEN YOU POP LIVING DEAD SO I CAN STOP HEALING YOU. I don't really need to know holmgang but i like knowing when people crank their hogs. I NEED TO KNOW WHEN YOU HALLOWED GROUND SO I CAN DPS. I WILL ALREADY KNOW WHEN YOU SBD BUT BY GOD PLEASE TELL ME WHEN IT ENDS. hallowed ground and holmgang are invulns that you can panic pop without your healer killing you for the most part.

9- there are required tank lbs but people in party tend to yell abt them. a12n, sosex and esn are the ones that come to mind and their timing is also Usually yelled at you by chat. dont be afraid to ask abt it. never be afraid to ask.

the main things i think though are like you set the pace of the dungeon. the bus waits for you because you are the bus. if a healer wants to pull bigger and you're not comfortable with it then don't! I am a healer who enjoys hard and fast pulls and loves danger and loves last minute heals, i would be a dick to impose that on everyone. the worst tanks are those who don't consider the rest of the party, as with every role in this game.

and as with everything else, i havw faith in you and fucking up is entirely normal and expected. you're gonna do great

[a-n-conrad]

Pet (Karl Heisenberg x Reader)

[Summary: After being gifted to Heisenberg, you manage to survive his games. From there you start to develop an interesting relationship. And as you start to play the role of his pet, things get a bit interesting. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: SMUT, unhealthy relationship dynamics, Author belongs in horny jail, Reader has “female” anatomy, themes of pet play, swearing, biting (Blood), reader is losing her sanity a bit, spanking, oral (both receiving), hair pulling, unprotected penetrative (vaginal) sex

Request: Literally, not a single person asked for this. You only have me to blame.]

You felt a bit foolish, being in the situation you were in. You had been one of the people gifted to the “Lords” of the village to do with as they pleased by Mother Miranda. You had to admit, when you were frightened, even more so when you were handed over to the infamous “mad wolf-man”. He had quite the reputation. But unlike the others, you had proven yourself useful enough for him to keep you around, instead of experimenting on you or feeding you to his lycans.

You survived at first by staying out of his way. It was like a game to him. Heisenberg liked games, and you adapted to them rather quickly. At first, the game was to be the perfect assistant. You’d clean, cook, do minor repairs, and stay out of his way as needed. You were there when he needed you to do something, you’d do it perfectly, and then you’d be out of his sight. And he’d try to catch you slipping up, making you nervous with whispered promises of the punishments that awaited you if you did.

It was an odd dance, having to learn the ins and outs of Heisenberg’s moods. Learning how to tell when he was in a bad mood, and when he was in the mood to joke. And as time went on, it seemed that there were more days when he was in the mood to sit and banter with you. And you started to bond a bit, less as captor and captive, and more as something close to friends, though you wouldn’t necessarily call it friendship.

Eventually, he started to grow a bit fond of you, occasionally joking with you that he had started to see you as a pet. He’d grin a bit as he called you pet names, names that were somewhere between affectionate and demeaning. He’d pat your head, like he was praising a dog, when you did something right. He had even joked about making you a collar to show the rest of the Lords that you were his pet.

You knew you probably should’ve hated it. You should’ve gagged at the idea of a collar, and you should’ve hated his pet names. But you didn’t. You found yourself grinning when he called you a “good girl”. You leaned into his touch when he’d pat your head. You could feel yourself losing your sanity. You had to be insane to feel this way, but as you got to know Heisenberg, you found yourself feeling as though it was worth it.

Karl Heisenberg was an interesting man, and one you had to admit that you were fascinated by. He had a biting form of humor that had become much funnier as you realized you weren’t in the danger that you thought you were, and you could hear the intelligence behind it. His jokes were always at least a little clever, as long as he could keep his head. He was complex, with motivations and actions that didn’t always match. And his emotions were so complicated that you were pretty sure he hadn’t even started sorting through them, choosing to instead deny their existence.

He was a mess of a man. He got mad enough to throw metal scraps of rusted metal around the room when an experiment went wrong. He’d rant for hours about the issues he had with his “family”, having to hold himself back from breaking things when he got to Alcina. He felt as trapped as you did. He thought of letting his appearance go as an act of rebellion. Because of that, he’d go a full week without washing his clothes, letting the blood and oil stain the fabric until it might as well be dye. And he didn’t sleep for days sometimes, choosing instead to stay up all night in his workshop, only leaving when he starts to border on collapsing.

But between his anger issues and dysfunction, you saw something in him that you weren’t sure that even he saw. You saw it in the sparkle in his eyes when he figured out an issue that had been bothering him. You saw it in his sleepy groans when he woke up in the middle of the day after staying up all night before. You saw it in his smirks and smiles as he thought of something clever to say.

He was charming in his own way. Not in the way you thought of charming. He wasn’t elegant like Alcina, but he was warm. He was like a fire. Volatile. Deadly. Beautiful. And warm. And perhaps you were a bit of a pyromaniac, as you found yourself staring into a fire pit, longing to see the damage it could do if you let it free. You wanted to see what Heisenberg could do to you. You wanted to let him.

- - - - -

You were a bit suspicious that you weren’t hiding your feelings very well. Heisenberg was clever, and he was incredibly observant. He needed to be. His “family” didn’t exactly get along with him very well, and knowing what you knew about his “siblings”, they would’ve taken any opportunity possible to kill him and take his place as a favored lord. So he was constantly on his toes. And that meant that you were sure that he had noticed you were acting a bit off recently.

And you were sure that he had figured out exactly what was causing you to act that way, by the way that he teased. There was a glint in his eyes when you started to get flustered that was new to you. The way he smirked at you as he praised you, his hand resting casually on your arm for a few more seconds than before. He had even gone through with his collar joke, though he hadn’t given it to you to wear.

He’d wink at you as he held it in front of you, though. It was a silver chain that was about an inch thick, made into an easily adjusted necklace by the extra bit of chain that hung through the loop. The extra bit of chain that also worked as a built-in leash. He’d hold the collar in front of you, dangling it casually from one of his fingers when you started to get sarcastic with him, making comments about how his “pet” needed to be put in her place. And you’d try your best not to show how much you truly wanted that.

It had become another one of Heisenberg’s games. You could tell that he knew. And he knew that you knew that. So the game became how long you could go without breaking.

“So, kitten,” you jumped a bit as Heisenberg appeared behind you. You were making dinner, and had thought that Heisenberg was still working in his shop. He usually didn’t leave for dinner until you came to get him if he ate dinner with you at all, “You seem a bit spaced out. Care to tell me what you’ve got on your mind?”

You could say what you really wanted to. You could say that you wanted him to rail you until you couldn’t walk. But that would end the game. And Heisenberg only liked to end games if he could win them in a satisfying way.

“Nothing you need to worry about, sir,” You muttered, finishing the food you were cooking and pulling it off of the stove, “Just lost in thought.”

He hummed a bit, noticing how you refused to make eye contact. That wasn’t new, but you weren’t usually so awkward about it, “Come on, pet. I’d like to know if you’re planning your escape or something,” A bit of metal began to dangle in front of your face and you knew exactly what it was, “Honestly, (y/n), I really might have to put this collar on you if you’re going to be keeping secrets.”

“It sounds like you’re just looking for an excuse to put a collar on me, Karl,” You had gotten a bit bold, knowing that the line of how much you could get away with was quite a bit further back, “You can just admit that you’re into that.”

He chuckled a bit, resting the arm that he was holding the collar with on your shoulder and leaning into you just a little bit. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him. You always wondered how he was always so warm, living in this factory, surrounded by the cold metal walls, “I don’t know, pet, you haven’t been protesting quite as much. It seems like you may be coming around to the idea. Maybe you’re projecting a bit.”

He had set his chin on your shoulder by the end of his statement, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear. It had sent a shiver down your spine, and you could tell he felt it by the satisfied hum that passed his lips.

“You’re not arguing with me, kitten,” he purred as you failed to muster up a rebuttal, “Is that what you want? You want me to put the collar on you? Do I need to put my needy little pet in place?”

Fuck. You shifted a little, trying not to make the throbbing between your legs obviously. You were trying so hard to think of a comeback, but the teasing had been going on for so long that you were reaching your breaking point. You wanted him to fuck you so badly that it made you look stupid.

He grabbed your shoulder and turned you around to face him. It was so much harder to keep a poker face when you were looking into his eyes, when you could see that glint in them. The kind of glint that made you think he wanted to eat you alive. And you wanted him to.

“If you ask like a good girl, maybe I’ll give you what you want,” his voice came out so much smoother than usual. It intimidated you a bit, knowing that he was holding himself together so well. You knew that there was no way your voice was going to come out nearly as smooth.

“I’m not going to beg, Karl,” Your voice was shaking, but you tried to hold your cool. He always had fun when you talked back a little, and you were hoping that translated to this situation as well. And the wolf-like grin that grew on his face told you that you were right.

“We’ll see about that, kitten.”

- - - - -

You weren’t quite sure when the collar had appeared around your neck. Somewhere between the kitchen and Karl’s bedroom, though, it had snaked its way around your neck, even though his hands never seemed to leave your hips. You were a bit too occupied trying to keep up with his ravenous kisses.

His lips were latched onto your neck as he pushed you through the door to his room. You landed on his bed soon after with a slight bounce. You had been in his room before to clean, but the context was different now. The actual room itself was entirely irrelevant, as Karl climbed on top of you, throwing his hat and glasses to the side, not caring where they landed. All you could look at were his eyes, glowing bright yellow as he looked down at you.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how much of a fucking brat you’re being,” he growled, looking down at you, “You’ve earned yourself quite the punishment.”

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, biting just below the hickey that was already forming on your neck. He growled a bit as you squeaked in surprise, biting down a bit harder. You both felt when he broke the skin, and something told you that the mark he was leaving was entirely on purpose. He didn’t want anyone to doubt who you belonged to. His fingers dug into your skin, one hand holding your wrist above your head and the other digging into your side just above your hip. You had a feeling you would be covered in marks and bruises in the morning, and you were alright with that.

He pulled your clothes off quickly, throwing them to the side of the room. He wasn’t wasting any time, so you were pretty sure he had ripped through a seam or two on your dress. And he didn’t hesitate to rip your underwear completely in half.

He threw you around so much easier than you had expected. You knew that he was strong, you had just expected it to take at least a little bit of effort. You supposed that you shouldn’t have underestimated his inhuman strength, because in seconds he had flipped you, moving you so that you were on your hands and knees in front of him. You were entirely vulnerable in front of him, entirely bare as he remained fully clothed behind you.

It was weirdly hot, being at his mercy. He wasn’t a good person, and you knew that. In fact, there was still a feeling in your chest reminding you that he could kill you whenever he wanted. But that didn’t matter at that moment. The fear just made it better in some sick way. You knew you were insane, you had to be, but if insanity felt this good, you were going to accept it.

“Now, kitten, be good and stay quiet through your punishment, and maybe you’ll get a reward,” he stated, sliding his hands from the place they were resting on your waist to rest on your ass instead, “Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded in response, not trusting your voice as his hands slid further down, reaching the back of your thighs, one of his thumbs dangerously close to your pussy. His hands were callused, so as they slid across your skin, it created an interesting sensation. Your eyes almost rolled back into your head as his thumb brushed lightly against your clit, and you heard him chuckle a bit at your reaction. However, before you could enjoy yourself too much, he pulled his thumb away, sliding his hands back up to your ass.

There was a pause for a few moments, and you felt his eyes scanning your body. They always seemed to feel so much more intense than anyone else’s gaze ever could. Before you could get self-conscious, though, one of his hands raised from its place, only to come back down hard. The smacking sound echoed through the entire room, and you couldn’t hold back your yelp.

“Now, now, pet, I thought I said to keep quiet. I’ll let this slide once because you’re cute, but any more, and I’ll have to add some more punishment,” he cooed, grabbing the leash of the collar around your neck and pulling it towards him. He leaned forward until he could actually look at your face, seeing the tears prick at the corners of your eyes already, “I’d hate to break my toy right away, so try to behave.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before shoving your head down into the bed and resuming your punishment. You bit your lip, trying your best not to actually break the skin, as you did your best to stay quiet. You were a bit surprised by how much you enjoyed it. After the first few, the pain started to melt away, hidden behind a numb tingling that sent electricity shooting through your whole body. And it was pretty obvious to Heisenberg as well, when slick started to drip down the inside of your thighs.

You lost count before he stopped, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen. He let out a satisfied hum as he looked at the handprints that were already starting to form, rubbing his hands gently over the forming bruises. You almost started purring as his hands continued to slide across your body.

“You’ve been such a good girl, kitten,” he praises as he moves your body, eventually making you stand in front of him as he sat on the edge of the bed, “Do you want your reward now?”

You nod, far too gone to even try to not look like a desperate fool. He looked proud of himself, seeing you so needy and bare in front of him. It was like a work of art. You had never seen so much admiration and need in his eyes. It wasn’t love. But it was need, and want, and possession.

“Ask nicely.”

You were too desperate to argue. You needed him more than you could remember needing anything, “Please, sir.”

You swore you saw the bulge in his pants twitch at the word “sir” and the glint in his eyes confirmed your suspicions. The grin he gave you showed his teeth, highlighting his fangs like a predatory animal about to lunge.

“Good girl,” He drew it out, shifting his body so that his legs were spread as far as they could be comfortably, before commanding, “Kneel.”

You do as you’re told almost by instinct. It was almost as though your body moved without your brain giving it permission. You had been entirely possessed by your lust. And it only got worse as his hands moved to unzip his pants, only removing enough of his clothing to free his cock.

“You want this, don’t you?” He looked almost amused as your eyes locked onto his cock. You were practically drooling over it. He almost laughed as you nodded, “Enjoy your treat, pet.”

He leaned back a bit, his weight being put on one of his hands, positioned a bit behind him on the bed. He looked so casual as you moved your hands to timidly take the place of his own, which had previously been holding his cock in place. He had to admit you looked adorable, needy and desperate as you kneeled between his legs. You were practically drooling for him.

You started out a bit slow, which surprised him a little. The little kitten licks and kisses felt good enough for him to close his eyes to savor it. However, from the smirk that had formed on your face by the time that he opened his eyes, he realized that you were planning on teasing. He wasn’t about to let that slide.

The hand that he had rested on the top of your head tightened its grip on your hair. “Watch it, kitten. Don’t be a tease,” He growled, pushing your head down a bit until about half of his cock was in your mouth.

With that, your willpower to hold back faded, and you took the rest of him into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat just a bit, making you hold back a gag. And as you looked up at him through your lashes and found him smirking down at you, you could tell that he saw it. You reveled in the soft groans that slipped past his lips when you finally got to work, swirling your tongue around as you bobbed your head. You moaned as he pulled your hair, the vibrations causing him to curse and pull your hair even more, “Fuck, kitten, you’re pretty good at that.”

You continued like that for a few more minutes, his grip on your hair getting tighter and tighter. The salty, bitter taste of precum started to hit the back of your throat, making it a bit harder not to gag. But the sounds that slipped from his mouth fueled you even more. You felt proud, hearing how much he was enjoying himself. You almost felt a bit disappointed as he pulled you off of him by your hair, causing you to whine loudly.

“Aw, don’t worry, kitten,” He says, patting your head, “We aren’t done yet. Why don’t you lay down and let me take care of you? You’ve been such a good girl.”

You do as you're told, without saying anything. As you had gotten into the mode you were in, playing the role of Heisenberg’s pet, talking seemed unnatural. It felt right to listen to his commands, obeying him like a dog. So you laid on your back, spread out and completely bare. And you couldn’t hold back the yelp as he grabbed your hips and yanked you roughly to the edge of the bed, so that as he kneeled in front of you, his face was entirely level with your pussy.

You saw that glint in his eyes again as his warm breath hit your already dripping core. You were getting reckless, trying to inch your way closer to speed up the process, only for his grip to tighten on your waist, holding you in place. He had an iron grip on you, and you were thankful for that as he licked a broad stripe up across your pussy before diving in, focusing almost all of his attention on your clit.

You were practically screaming his name as swirled his tongue around your clit with dexterity you didn’t think was even possible to possess. His hands were definitely leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises on your hips, but at least they were holding you in place as you involuntarily started to buck your hips and arch your back. You could feel the knot tightening in your abdomen, your hands ripping the sheets so hard you were a bit worried that you were going to tear them. He slid a finger into you, hitting at just the right angle to make you squeal. You honestly couldn’t think of a time that someone had made you come undone quite so fast, but you certainly weren’t complaining as the tangled nerves in the pit of your stomach finally seemed to snap.

Karl had to admire you as you came, your head thrown back and your legs shaking. Your skin was practically glimmering from the thin layer of sweat that was already clinging to it. He couldn’t help the pride that flooded into his chest as you started to come down from your high looking absolutely destroyed. He wasn’t done yet, but he was glad to see he had it in him to affect you this much.

He slowly stepped back, his eyes never leaving you as you laid on the bed, trying to catch your breath. He made sure to lock eyes with you as he slowly stripped the rest of his clothes off, layer by layer. By the time you recovered, he was finally taking off his necklaces, dropping them onto the pile he had made with the rest of his clothing. Despite his strength, he wasn’t exactly ripped. His arms were fairly muscular and defined, but he had a bit of squish around his stomach. His body was coated in a layer of body hair, the bits of silver shining in the dim light of the room you were in.

He was attractive in the rugged way that made it make sense that he smelled like metal and cigar smoke as he crawled on top of you, keeping pace as you inch yourself further up the bed. It was only once you had settled into place that he leaned down, kissing you feverishly. It escalated with every second, the hand that he wasn’t using to support his body weight roamed your body. It wasn’t long until his hand was moving your legs, angling your hips to make it easier for him to line himself up with your entrance.

He pulled away from the kiss just long enough to slowly push himself into you, watching your reaction as you slowly adjusted to his width and length. It didn’t take you long to adjust, though, and he could tell when you did. He started off slow. It surprised you how gentle he was being, but you didn’t mind at first. Before long, though, you were craving more. You wanted him to use your body.

“Please,” You whined, “Harder.”

He grinned a bit at your begging, recalling your declaration that you wouldn’t beg. He honestly couldn’t tell what part he enjoyed more, the win he had earned or seeing you beneath him, begging for him. Either way, he wasn’t going to deny you what you wanted.

So he leaned back, shifting his weight to his knees so that he could grab your ankles. He pinned your legs to your chest. As he slammed into you, much harder than before, you could tell just how much the angle had changed. Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head as he continued to thrust into you. Your moans got louder, and he started to groan a bit too, cursing under his breath as his thrusts got a bit uneven.

“Fuck, kitten,” he breathed into your ear as he leaned down, your legs on his shoulders. You could feel him twitching inside of you, getting close to his own ending, “You’re such a good girl.”

You couldn’t help yourself as your hands moved to scratch down his back, digging your nails in as deeply as you could. He responded by biting into the same place he had earlier, a bit of blood from before sticking to the corners of his mouth. With a few more rough thrusts, his teeth sinking a little bit deeper into your shoulder, he finished. And the two of you both started to relax.

After a few seconds of you both catching your breath, he pulled away, rolling to the side so that he could comfortably lay on his back next to you. It was an awkward few moments, both of you laying there in near silence, only for him to break it with, “We should probably get that bite cleaned up, huh? My bad, pet. I forget how fragile you are sometimes.”

And with that he got up, moving to gently take care of you. He cleaned up your bite mark, and helped you clean between your shaky legs with a damp washcloth. It was a whole new side of him as he helped clean you off, making sure that he hadn’t been hurt too badly. And after a few minutes, when you had been cleaned enough that you weren’t actively uncomfortable, he climbed back into bed and wordlessly pulled you into his chest.

(A/N: So... um. I'm sorry for this. This is my second smut ever and I needed to get a bit... self-indulgent so my brain would stfu.)

[uvobreakmylegs]

30 Seconds

This one might get a sequel but I’m not sure yet

Bodyswap Soulmate AU

Warnings: gore, graphic depictions of violence, threats of violence, kidnapping

It was like something out of a horror movie.

Several men lay before you in a darkened room, pieces of their bodies – their heads even – completely gone, the marks that were left around the gaping wounds that had an odd white glow to them, akin to something having taken a bite out of them.

Something like the fish that swam in the air above you.

A million questions flew through your mind, of what the hell this was; who these people were; how was there no blood despite the obvious carnage - you were literally just in the bathtub, how did you even get here?! Then you remembered that humans needed to breathe in order to live, and your lungs hadn't taken in anything since this nightmare scenario started.

You let out a breath, and along with it escaped a small, sad whimpering noise as you tried to process the scene in front of you. And then you froze again.

“What....”

You were speaking, but the words that were coming out of your mouth were not in your voice.

For the first time, you looked down at your body.

This was not your body.

You were in the body of a pale, bare-chested man wearing a long black trench-coat with fur on the lining, holding a book in one hand.

Your discovery was so jarring that you almost forgot about the men and the fish.

“Y-y-you..... Phantom Troupe monster!”

The words were just about screamed at you and you jumped back. The man laying closest was facing you, the entire top half of his head completely gone. He had to have been missing most, if not all of his brain. How the hell was he still talking? Glancing at the bodies of the other men, you saw that, to your horror, they were still alive as well. Groaning and moving as best as they could despite how the severity of their wounds meant that they should not still be alive. One of the fish came down close to your head and you flinched, stumbling backwards until you fell to the floor.

“Damn you, Chrollo!” the man from before yelled.

“Even if you don't die tonight, someone will get you someday! You'll pay for your crimes, you Meteor City piece of trash!”

His last words were spat out before one of the fish dipped down and bit off the remainder of his head, leaving behind the stump that was his neck and more of that white glow that came from the edges of his skin. His body began to flail, with what remained of his arms and legs banging against floor. Maybe in an attempt to crawl to you, or maybe it was simply all he could do at that point.

Your breath started coming out as short, harsh gasping as you began to hyperventilate, your eyes going back up to the monstrous fish that still moved about. They didn't seem to be paying attention to you, but you had no idea when that could change. Nothing about this made sense, but you did your best to reign in the terror that kept you immobile. The single rational thought of “get out of this room” pushed through your panic, and your eyes darted about the space as you tried to find an exit. But a glance at the large mirror on the wall that reached up to the ceiling made you pause once more.

The man who's body you inhabited sat next to you in the reflection, his eyes - your eyes? - wide as you took it all in. A smooth pale face, slicked back dark hair, an odd tattoo on the forehead and gray eyes that filled with tears before they began to trickle down your - his - cheeks. Breath came in harsher and you could hear a heartbeat thundering in your ears. You were in someone else's body and you had no clue what to do or why this was happening. And that didn't even factor in the deadly fish or the men currently being eaten alive by them.

In the mirror's reflection, you saw a door open behind you, a strip of artificial light coming from it that grew larger as it opened wider. You snapped your head back to see a a blonde woman in a purple suit standing at the door. The neutral expression she wore morphed into one of shock as she looked at you, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

“Chrollo?” she asked.

And suddenly it was all gone.

You were standing by the hanger that held your purse, holding your wallet in one hand and your ID in the other. A shiver ran through you, and you realized that you were naked and dripping with water, like you'd gotten out of your bath without drying off first.

You stared ahead at the wall blankly for a few moments. And then, like a car smashing into a concrete slab, the utter shock and fear of what you had just experienced hit you, and you fell to the floor crying, holding yourself as you tried to understand what had just happened.

You didn't get any sleep that night. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see were those men lying in pieces and the nightmare-fuel fish. Hours later, when you had finally calmed down, you took to the internet to try and figure out what had happened and what the hell you had just seen.

A Google search on “swapping bodies” brought up a few results, but they all seemed questionable to you. The most common claim was that it was how you found your “soulmate”. An enthusiastic blogger had detailed her experience with finding her current husband in this way, of how one day she and her husband unexpectedly swapped bodies for thirty seconds and later found each other. The blog post quickly devolved into the kind of romantic mush that was only fit for the most asinine of rom-coms that included how the blogger and her husband spent months trying to find each other on opposite ends of the continent because they knew they “were meant for each other”. Other posts that didn't appear outwardly fake told basically the same thing with much less flair, and the term “soulmate” came up several times. You weren't sure how willing you were to believe in such a concept. If everyone was supposed to have a soulmate, shouldn't such a phenomenon be reported on in the mainstream? Wouldn't there be people trying to figure out how such a thing was possible? If it was real, you wouldn't need to dig through personal online testimony from anonymous users to read about it.

And yet it had happened to you. Your consciousness had entered the body of a man who, if these posts were correct, was the person you were meant to be with. The only other option was that you were going crazy, and if you were really just having delusions that felt that real, then you needed to get yourself checked into a mental hospital.

Speaking of that man...

The words that had been yelled at you were still fresh in your mind. Phantom Troupe. Meteor City. Chrollo. The woman you saw near the end had also used the word “Chrollo” when referring to you, so it seemed likely that it was his name.

While looking up body-swapping had produced mostly questionable results, the next few terms brought up practically nothing.

Google didn't recognize the name “Chrollo” and kept trying to autocorrect it. “Phantom Troupe” brought up a few conspiracy forums talking about an underground criminal group that had allegedly slaughtered thousands, but the posters claimed that if you wanted any more information you would need to pay to get it on the “dark web”. The only one that gave you something of a lead was “Meteor City”. You found an article from a few years back reporting on some government official speaking out against the city's existence and announcing plans to have it destroyed, though the words he used to describe this process were a bit more diplomatic. But when you tried looking for a follow up to the article, you only found various reports of how the official and his entire team vanished overnight.

Meteor City: A place populated by undocumented inhabitants and a hub for criminal activity.

The Phantom Troupe: A group of criminals allegedly responsible for countless deaths but with no official record of any of their crimes.

Chrollo: A person who was somehow connected to these things and, if what you had read earlier was true, was also your “soulmate”.

The term still seemed ridiculous to you, but if that really was the case, and the Phantom Troupe really was as bad as the things you had read, then you were in danger. And you had no clue where to start to try and protect yourself.

The sky was tinted with the pink and yellow hues of sunrise when you finally fell into a dreamless sleep, exhaustion finally taking you. The laptop remained open in front of you, Google once more showing you no results for the name “Chrollo”.

The next few weeks passed by with you on constant high alert, always looking over your shoulder and triple checking the locks on your door at night. You were jumpy, and every time you came across someone who looked even remotely like the woman or “Chrollo”, you had a hard time breathing. The only upside had been that your fear left you exhausted most nights, and your subconscious was too tired to conjure up the images of those fish in your mind while you slept. Any time you did dream, that scene played again and you often woke up with a start.

Several of your friends had noticed the change in your behavior and had approached you privately to ask what was wrong. As much as you wanted to tell them everything, you doubted they would believe you. So you had made up a story that you were worried that you were being stalked, citing that you felt like you were being watched and that you had come back once to find items of yours displaced (which the second part wasn't technically untrue).

Most of them tried to insist that you go to the police, but begrudgingly backed down when you told them that there wasn't enough evidence for anything like that. Their plan B was then to stay around you as much as they could, at least one person escorting you from your apartment to you job, and several nights a week a few people would stay over. Having them around you and just hanging out with them calmed you. The time you spent with them were brief moments of levity that took your mind off of what you were actually afraid of, and when you were alone after, terrible thoughts of them being ripped apart and eaten plagued your mind.

The moments of peace you had with them lasted for about a month, where you had all agreed that the “stalker” wasn't an issue anymore since there had been no trace of such a person. As much as you wanted them to stay with you, you weren't about to try and push it for fear of them thinking you were lying (which you technically were). They all made it clear that you could go to any of them if something came up again, and one of them, Harrison, gave you a taser, just in case things took a turn for the worse. Carrying such a thing was nerve-wracking, but at least it wasn't a weapon that could do permanent damage to you if you somehow managed to accidentally use it on yourself, and it gave you some comfort that you were no longer walking around completely defenseless.

It had been over two months since that incident, and you had yet to see anything of that man. It wasn't lost on you that when you had returned to your body, you had been holding your ID with your full name and address. Given the state you had found yourself in, he'd wasted no time finding out who you were, having gone straight from the bathroom to where you kept your purse to find your identity. He was calm enough in that situation to know he had limited time to find out about you and had managed to do just that. He was planning on tracking you down, you were certain. And while you wanted to run as far away as possible, it wasn't so easy to just pack up and leave.

Your lease renewal had been coming up, and you needed time to find new housing in a different area. Somewhere away from here where he hopefully couldn't find you. It wasn't what you wanted, but you needed to get away. Whatever it was that Chrollo wanted, whether it actually because of a “soulmate” connection or if he just wanted to kill you, nothing good could come from meeting him. Of that you were sure.

As your final day in your apartment came closer and more and more of your belongings were packed into boxes, the weight of the anxiety that had been on you began to lift. There had been no sign of that man, and as that date approached you felt a sense of relief, that you really were going to leave and he wouldn't be able to find you after that. You'd deactivated all of your social media accounts and once again asked your friends for help, this time to just keep quiet about where you had gone to in fear of the “stalker”. If a random man approached them asking questions about you they would know better than to answer, and your landlord legally couldn't discuss the whereabouts of former tenants.

You paused in the middle of packing up some of your clothes.

Legally.

A man who fed people to monster fish probably didn't care about what was “legal” or not. And he probably wouldn't accept any stories your friends gave him if he was to go to them.

The fear that had been in the back of your mind since you'd opened up to your friends had been growing stronger. That Chrollo's response to you running would be to take it out on them. That they would deny knowing you when he asked and he would bring out those murder fish and make them pay for lying with their lives.

'I should warn them', was your initial thought, to tell them everything. But telling them the whole story would make things more difficult. They'd probably keep you from moving away and try to make you seek psychiatric help. Getting out of the area after that would likely be impossible. And it didn't help that you had no proof that he actually was coming after you; only a strong feeling that he definitely would be closing in on you sometime soon.

Your friends didn't deserve whatever horrible fate he could bring upon them, but you weren't going to stick around to see what happened to you if he found you. The best bet for them was that he would just leave them alone.

You continued with your packing, telling yourself over and over again that he wouldn't do anything to them and that there was no shame in running to save yourself, doing your absolute best to ignore the part of you that repeated that they wouldn't survive.

Maybe deep down you were just as terrible of a person as your soulmate and this connection to him was your punishment.

Everything that wasn't packed away in a moving truck had been stuffed into a suitcase that waited for you at your now empty apartment. Just one more night here and you would have successfully uprooted your life and moved on to one that was hopefully better.

You were walking back after your last shift at work, thinking of the things you might do after your move while also wondering how far you would need to go to protect your identity, maybe look into changing your name and dying your hair. The afternoon sun was beating down on you and the sidewalk was filled with other people who were likely also just getting off of work, the level of noise fairly high.

Being in a crowd of people had always made you feel safe. You had reasoned that there was no way anything would happen if you were surrounded by potential witnesses; no matter what sort of things your soulmate was capable of, there was no way he could do anything that could hurt dozens of people all at once. That was what you had told yourself all this time.

But the next time you glanced up, you froze.

He was there.

That man whose reflection you had seen in the mirror, whose body you had inhabited for that brief period of time, was standing in front of you, his hands in his pockets and his head tilting to the side with a small smile when the two of you made eye contact.

Your hands rigidly gripped the strap of your purse while your legs stayed stiff. You wanted to run, you desperately wanted to run away, but like that night when you had swapped bodies, your limbs felt like lead and you couldn't bring yourself to move more than a few inches.

He started to approach and you tensed. You'd only managed to take a single step back before he was on you, his hand firmly gripping your arm and pulling you with him to the side.

“It would be rude to stand in the way of all of these people, don't you agree?” he asked, motioning to the people who now passed the two of you by.

You didn't answer, and all you could do was hope that someone would notice that something was wrong with you two and raise some sort of alarm. Remembering the taser Harrison had given you, your free hand slipped down to your purse, trying your best to remove it without him noticing.

“It's very nice to meet you,” he continued, “I'm Chrollo.”

His hand stayed on your arm, and he clearly had no intention of letting go.

Words didn't want to leave you, instead blocking up in your throat. All you really wanted to do was scream and get away from him. The man you had been stressing out over for the past few months found you just as you were about to leave and had casually came up to introduce himself. As if the circumstances surrounding your swap weren't any issue.

Taking in a few deep breaths, you composed yourself enough to speak, all the while he waited for you patiently.

“This.... This isn't a very nice meeting for me,” you said, “actually, I really wish you didn't come to see me.”

Surprisingly he nodded, seemingly understanding why you didn't want to meet him.

“Our switch happened at a very unfortunate time; I can't blame you for being apprehensive.”

..... Apprehensive?

This man made you a witness to that horror show and he was brushing it off as just apprehension?

“That's kind of an understatement, don't you think?” you snapped, the fear that had kept you petrified breaking for a moment.

“I understand that you're afraid. But you shouldn't be. I'm not going to hurt you; I'm here to take you with me.”

“I don't want to go with you,” you said.

“I won't make you witness anything else like that. You'll be taken care of for the rest of your life,” Chrollo continued, ignoring your statement.

“You made me watch those men die.”

You then hissed in pain as his grip on your arm became tighter. Evidently your voice was raising too much for his liking.

“There isn't much that can be done about that now,” said Chrollo, “I'm sorry that you needed to see that, but in time I'm sure you'll forgive me for it.”

He remained nonchalant, that small smile still on his face while he spoke of those dead men and what you had experienced as if he was talking about the weather. Below, you found the taser in your purse and gripped it, readying yourself to bring it out.

“I want nothing to do with you.”

Chrollo sighed.

“I'm afraid you have no choice. Soulmates are meant to be together,” he answered. His other hand gripped your chin, raising you up as if to pull you into a kiss.

“You were meant to be with me,” Chrollo whispered.

He stopped suddenly, his expression changing to one mild surprise as he looked down to where you had jammed the taser beneath his ribs, your thumb hovering over the ON button.

“Get the fuck away from me or I'll turn this on. I'll scream for help and tell everyone here that you're trying to kidnap me,” you hissed.

With the way the two of you were positioned, none of the passersby could see the taser you held against him. So there was still a way to get out of this with nothing happening, which would be the best option for him. If he left you now, you would be able to escape and leave all of this behind in favor of your new life. Chrollo was bold, you would give him that, as you had been so sure he wouldn't approach you in public. But being in public gave you an advantage: a young woman yelling about a man attacking her would instantly draw attention, and Chrollo would have all sorts of scrutiny on him. A man who officially didn't exist wouldn't want dozens of witnesses to any sort of crime. He had to leave you alone.

Chrollo stared at the taser for a few moments, and then looked back to you, his expression neutral. Despite your threat, he wasn't letting go, though his grip had lessened.

“This is a surprise. With what Pakunoda said and what we saw on our observation of you, you seemed like a much more compliant type. Where exactly is this fight coming from?” he murmured.

The way those gray eyes seemed to look right through you made you more uncomfortable the longer you kept eye contact, and you glanced back to the people around you. No one had noticed what was going on between you two; even if they couldn't see the taser, you had been hopeful that at least one person would have seen that something was wrong and would have come up to investigate. You had broken out into a nervous sweat, and your anxiety only got worse the longer he stared at you.

“Do it.”

The words that he spoke so calmly caught you by surprise, and once more you couldn't speak.

“If you're that desperate to try and get away from me, then turn that thing on and call for help,” he said, “but know that if you do that, all of these people will die. And you won't be getting away from me.”

You looked again to the crowd of people.

“You.... You can't do that. There's too many..... You'd never be able to...”

That smile returned to his face.

“My dear, much like how you know very little of taking yourself off the grid, you also know very little of what I am capable of. I assure you, I can kill everyone here within a matter of minutes. Of course, I would rather you didn't drive me to that point; it would be much easier for all of us if you just came with me.”

The hand on your jaw slid downwards until it was gripping your own, and he pushed the taser harder against himself as if to encourage you to use it.

“Do it, but know that it won't change anything. All you'll be accomplishing is killing these people and making things unpleasant for yourself once I take you to your new home. Cooperate, and you won't be responsible for anyone dying.”

Despite his slight smile, his eyes were cold. He meant it when he said he would kill everyone. You recognized what he was doing with the way he worded it: that you would be responsible for the deaths of these bystanders, as if you were the one willing to murder just to make a point. But you also recognized that you had no way of stopping him – no, that wasn't correct. You had a way of stopping him, and that was to do as he said.

The crushing defeat you felt snuffed out the fight that had been sparked within you, and your head hung low when he pulled your hand away and slipped the taser out of your loosened grip.

“Smart girl,” he said, placing it in his coat pocket.

Chrollo wasted no time in taking you away, pulling you forward and placing an arm across your shoulders, ensuring that you couldn't pull away from him. The two of you walked in silence, making your way past the other men and women in the street. So many people around you, and not one of them was aware that you were being taken against your will.

“You don't need to hold me like this,” you mumbled.

Chrollo didn't answer, nor did he look at you, his eyes staring straight ahead as you turned a corner down a smaller side street. There weren't as many people down this way, and as you came towards the end, you saw two people standing next to a van waiting for you and Chrollo. One of them was a blonde man in light purple clothes that you had never seen before, but the other one you recognized: the woman in the suit who you had seen just before you left Chrollo's body that night. Their gazes were heavy on you as you got closer.

“No trouble then, boss?” the man asked Chrollo, his tone lighthearted.

“Not much,” Chrollo answered. He finally pulled away from you and, to your surprise, pulled out your taser that he had pocketed earlier, tossing it to the man.

“Get rid of that, will you?”

Neither of them said anything: the man inspected it before laughing a little while the woman raised an eyebrow at you. You kept your gaze on your shoes, not saying anything as you were guided to an open back door of the van. You were sat in the middle of the back seat, in between the woman and Chrollo while the other man climbed into the front passenger's seat. Another woman was already sitting in the driver's seat, this one older, most likely middle-aged. She was staring ahead blankly, and you noticed a strange needle with a bat on the end sticking out of her neck.

“Don't worry about it,” said Chrollo, as if reading your mind.

“Let's get going. How far to the next town?”

“With this traffic, it'll likely be about fifteen minutes,” the woman said.

“Alright. Drop us off there; I'll find a car and take her the rest of the way myself. You two shouldn't have too hard of a time taking care of things here,” Chrollo replied. The man and the woman nodded, and a silence fell over all of you as the van began moving.

The man in front looked like he was playing on his phone while the woman in the driver's seat moved like a robot as she drove, and the woman on your left stared out of the window, occasionally glancing at you, as if anticipating an attempt to escape. As much as you wanted to, you weren't stupid enough to try that. The doors on either side of you were blocked off, and any attempt to get out through the back door would be stopped easily. You were trapped and there was nothing you could do.

You stared down at your hands while you gripped your knees, your fingernails slowly digging into your flesh while you silently berated yourself for getting caught, for not doing enough to prevent this, for not telling anyone the truth. Because of your preparations for your move, it would take your friends a long time to figure out you were missing, and by that point who knows where you would be. This was your fault and you were paying for it.

A hand suddenly covered one of yours, and you glanced over to Chrollo. He pulled your hand into his, lacing your fingers together while he smiled at you again, as if sensing your turmoil and trying to calm you down. It didn't feel genuine, however, and you wanted to pull your hand away from his.

It's a better idea not to, a voice inside you said, and you turned your gaze back downwards, leaving your hand in his and trying to ignore the way he chuckled at you.

[asmodean-deserved-better]

I don't understand where you're getting that the show is making Egwene the best most specialest girl? It's Nynaeve who saves everyone with an extraordinary, unexpected display of channeling, not just once but twice. It's Perrin who has the unique, one-of-a-kind kinship with wolves. It's Mat who can somehow resist an evil, cursed dagger far longer than any normal person would have been able to do. It's Rand who is the Dragon Reborn. For all her potential, the most Egwene was able to do with the One Power all season (until the finale) was light a small fire and unfasten Perrin's bonds in the Whitecloak camp. There's literally a scene where she thinks she's being described as the most powerful channeler in centuries, and then gets the wind taken out of her sails when it turns out they were talking about Nynaeve. Don't get me wrong, I disliked that they gave her a moment of healing that logically should have gone to Nynaeve, but it was nonetheless the first and only really extraordinary thing Egwene did all season, so I'm confused why you think they're making her out to be the best and specialest? In my opinion she's been pretty ordinary compared to the other Emond's Fielders.

It isn't about who caused the most CGI to be used though. It's about how the narrative frames her, how other characters see her, and what changes were made to the books.

(I will be making comparisons with the books but I won't talk about anything not covered by the adaptation.)

She is the first of the Emond's Fielders we meet. Nynaeve is also there, but the scene is Egwene's, it's her special ritual, it's all about her. Then we see Rand, but he is doing something mundane, and only after that we see Mat and Perrin with Rand, but this scene is actually also about Egwene. Introducing them like that doesn't establish an ensemble cast, it establishes Egwene as the main character. (And I know that Rafe wanted more time, but we're looking at what ended up being made, and besides, we know that he planned to make the women's circle ceremony longer.)

They made her a Dragon candidate, which I don't have a problem with per se, but in the books she decided to leave with Moiraine and the others all by herself, just because she wanted to. This establishes her personality and what she wants in life very strongly.

(It is also the source of her conflict with Rand. They both behaved like egoistical children about it, but we still could have had characters in a relationship having a conflict that isn't about their relationship.)

Because of that change, she show gave her Rand's lines about how the trollocs are actually after them and they should believe Moiraine about that. This made Egwene look like she is the only one who has any braincells among the Emond's Fielders and make Rand seem like the most irrational of them. Similar thing happened with making Egwene the most rational and heroic when talking for going to the Eye, while in the books it wasn't even a question (the situation was different but still extremely dangerous).

That story about how Egwene got sick as a child was turned from the story of how Nynaeve channeled for the first time – to save a dying child and not a guy she barely knows! – into the story of how Egwene defeated a deadly infection by sheer force of will, apparently, which is just dumb. Someone should have caught and rewritten it during all that time the production was delayed because of a deadly infection going around.

That sequence in the whitecloaks camp you don't seem to think was very impressive still makes Egwene, with her one channeling lesson, infinitely more competent than at least half a dozen Aes Sedai with all their training and years or decades of experience. I like this scene, Egwene is great in it, and the Aes Sedai really aren't as good at what they are doing as they advertise themselves. But the show hypes up the Aes Sedai so much and this undercuts what it is trying to do.

All this focus on Egwene even changes the themes of the books. In the library when Rand picks up The Travels of Jain Farstrider in the show it reminds him of Egwene, while in the book he thinks about how Tam always wanted to have this book in his library. It would have been nice to have this scene, especially with how little Tam we got. Then, in the last episode when Ishamael tries to make Rand do what he wants he creates an illusion of Egwene and Rand refuses to give in by giving an impassioned speech about how wonderful Egwene is and how much he loves her. In a similar scene in the book Rand sees his adoptive mother, Kari Al'thor. This scene has its own issues but instead of fixing them the show once again replaces familial love with romantic love. And also turns Rand into an extremely flat character who only does what he does because of his girlfriend and not his own moral compass.

Again, I am not against them giving Egwene more focus than she got in the first book. But the show overdoes it, which hurts the characterisation of others, erases some of the themes that are extremely important throughout the whole book series, and even undermines some other things the show decided to emphasize more in comparison with the books.

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry 2021 Master List

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Commentors, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of our fest,

Our 3rd installment of LCDrarry is coming to an end, and we'd like to thank you all for taking part in our little fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for everybody!

You can find out under the cut who created what ;D

~Your LCDrarry Mods Tami ( @celilasart​ ) and Suzi ( @erin-riwen​ )

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information and more detailed warnings.

PPS: As always, reblogs are very much appreciated to promote all the wonderful works of LCDrarry.

Thank you! :)

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Podfic

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[Podfic] Harry Potter And The Disorder Of The Phoenix

Title: "Harry Potter And The Disorder Of The Phoenix" Written by: postjentacular Read by: @porcelainsalt​ | bluedreaming (AO3) Word Count: 1,304 words / 8 minutes Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: An exasperated werewolf-slash-professor, a decidedly not-dead drama queen, a brat, and a straight white man settle down to watch a movie. It goes as well as you’d expect.

Listen to "Harry Potter And The Disorder Of The Phoenix" on AO3.

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Art

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[Art] At the Beginning (With You)

Prompt: "Anastasia", 1997, Don Bluth and Gary Goldman Artist: @zandragorin​ Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: Teen Warnings: none

Summary: It's one, two, three, and suddenly he sees it a glance.

View "At the Beginning (With You)" on AO3.

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[Art] Between Your Heart and Mine

Prompt: "Crimson Peak", 2015, Guillermo del Toro Artist: @kryptidfox​ Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: Auror Harry Potter is called to investigate barren and isolated Malfoy Manor, home to Sir Draco Malfoy. There, he finds forgotten secrets, lingering ghosts and perhaps even love.

View "Between Your Heart and Mine" on AO3.

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[Art] Fallen

Prompt: "Chocolat", 2000, Lasse Hallström Artists: @julcheninred​ & m4gOrtz Art Medium: paper, thread, chalk, ink Rating: General Warnings: Food, Depression, Clergy

Summary: As Père Harry passed the window of the chocolate shop early on Easter morning, he was shocked to discover the Comte de Malfoy, who had destroyed the shop's window display and fallen asleep in his grief and exhaustion.

View "Fallen" on AO3.

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[Art] I am only one side of a coin.

Prompt: "Merlin", 2008-2012 Artist: @digthewriter​ Art Medium: Digital Art in Photoshop Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: The better side, obviously. Merlin/Harry Potter fusion. Harry as Merlin & Draco as Arthur.

View "I am only one side of a coin." on AO3.

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[Art] No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

Prompt: "Romeo and Juliet", Shakespeare Artist: writingsbydestiny Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: Inspired by Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare starring Draco Malfoy as Juliet Capulet and Harry Potter as Romeo Montague.

View "No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin" on AO3.

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[Art] The Malfoy Family

Prompt: "The Addams Family", 1991, David Levy Author: @moondraconis​ Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry and Draco have just got engaged. Now Harry has to sit for a family portrait with his weird new in-laws.

View "[Art] The Malfoy Family" on AO3.

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[Art] The Poet's Choice

Prompt: "Portrait of a Lady on Fire", 2019, Céline Sciamma Artist: @kairennart​ | Personaje (AO3) Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: On an isolated island in Brittany at the end of the eighteen century, Harry is commissioned to paint a wedding portrait of Draco without him knowing, since he refuses to pose. That means a lot of staring, and a lot of time together. Time goes by, and, inevitably, like everything in life, they fall in love. But Harry has to finish his painting, and Draco has to get married.

View "The Poet's Choice" on AO3.

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[Art] there are dangerous men about

Prompt: "The Legend of Zorro”, 2005, Martin Campbell Artist: @dragontamerdame | dragontamerdrarry (AO3) Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: Teen Warnings: None

Summary: Two wizards engaging in a vicious duel, but make it gay and sexy.

View "there are dangerous men about" on AO3.

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Fic & Art

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[Fic & Art] One More Lantern

Prompt: “xxxHoLiC”, 2006-2010 (anime)/2013 (live action) Author/Artist: vivi1138 Word Count/Art Medium: 8,373 words & Digital Art Rating: Teen Warnings: Smoking

Summary: Harry is plagued by spirits who seem intent on devouring him, and there’s only one place they can’t follow: a house hidden in wizarding London, belonging to Draco Malfoy. Harry didn’t intend to stay. He certainly didn’t foresee falling in love. Yet here they are. A slice of life where Draco is a sap, Harry buys ice cream, and spirits keep throwing their peaceful life into chaos.

Read and view "One More Lantern" on AO3.

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[Fic & Art] In the Shadow of Your Heart

Prompt: Howl's Moving Castle, 2004, Hayao Miyazaki Author: @fantalf​ Word Count/Art Medium: 854 words & Digital Art Rating: General Warnings: sectumsempra scars, memory loss

Summary: When the recluded ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy finds Harry Potter wandering around the hills, with no memory whatsoever of who he once was, he and Teddy decide to welcome him into their little family.

Read and view "In the Shadow of Your Heart" on AO3.

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Fic

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[Fic] Paging Healer Twatwaffle

Prompt: "House M.D.", 2004-2012, TV-Series Author: @veelawings​ Word Count: 1,550 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Mild dub-con and manipulation, but they’re already friends with benefits.

Summary: Healer Malfoy is an absolute wanker.

Read "Paging Healer Twatwaffle" on AO3.

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[Fic] (Let's Take Our Time) Just Moving Slow

Prompt: "Holidate", 2020, John Whitesell Author: Melacka Word Count: 1,886 words Rating: Teen Warnings: none

Summary: Harry and Draco have a mutually beneficial arrangement: automatic dates for all holidays and public events, no questions asked, no obligation, no strings. It all seemed like such a good idea when they started. Harry certainly never expected to develop feelings for Draco.

Read "(Let's Take Our Time) Just Moving Slow" on AO3.

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[Fic] Jurassic Drarry

Prompt: "Jurassic Park", 1993, Steven Spielberg Author: PhenomenalAsterisk Word Count: 1,941 words & Digital Art Rating: General Warnings: Unconventional disposal of dinosaurs; fanart includes graphic image of meat

Summary: An unflappable palaeontologist, a sexy chaos theorist, and a distracted palaeobotanist are called in to tour an eccentric billionaire's pet project.

Read "Jurassic Drarry" on AO3.

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[Fic] My Saviour Won't Stop Texting Me

Prompt: "Hercules", 1997, Ron Clements, John Musker Author: fwooshy Word Count: 5,012 words Rating: Teen Warnings: Texting fic

Summary: Long ago, in Ancient Greece, there was a man named Draco Malfoy who sold his soul to Voldemort. Tortured by his sins, he... oh, who am I kidding? This is a Hercules AU texting fic, not some Greek tragedy! Harry and Draco get together and everyone has phones in Ancient Greece. Please enjoy.

Read "My Saviour Won't Stop Texting Me" on AO3.

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[Fic] The Malfoy Family

Prompt: "The Addams Family", 1991, David Levy Author: floydig Word Count: 7,088 words Rating: Mature Warnings: All Addams Family Warnings Apply, Morbid and Dark Humor, Loving Horror, Mild Body Horror (fun), Carnivorous Plants, Blasphemy, Necromancy, Implied Sexual Content

Summary: The Malfoy Family is the Addams Family, and things are about to get interesting. Draco and Harry Malfoy are odd, intriguing, endearingly creepy, and completely and utterly infatuated with one another. This is going to be a fun one. Featuring deadly magical creatures as house pets, recreational use of Unforgivable Curses, hungry carnivorous plants, and plenty of mayhem in between. Also, the whole thing takes place at a Magical Multi-Purpose Store. The Malfoy Family goes shopping!

Read "The Malfoy Family" on AO3.

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[Fic] Love that Blinds

Prompt: "The Batman", 2004-2008, TV-Series Author: aminathescorpio Word Count: 7,245 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Brief graphic descriptions of violence, dubious consent, gaslighting

Summary: When Draco Malfoy gets accepted to work as a psychiatrist in Azkaban Asylum, he finds himself caught in a complicated relationship with none other than Azkaban's most infamous resident: Harry Potter.

Read "Love that Blinds" on AO3.

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[Fic] Sesame Seeds and the Entire Spectrum of Human Emotion

Prompt: "The Proposal", 2009, Anne Fletcher Author: @bisexualronaldweasley​ Word Count: 9,530 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Nudity, Boat Incident, references to past abuse/neglect

Summary: Faced with exile, Draco pretends to be engaged to Harry Potter, who agrees to play along for Narcissa's sake. When they're forced to spend a weekend together celebrating the engagement with the Weasleys, they might try to kill each other, or... they might just fall in love. . Based on the movie The Proposal (2009), though you don't have to have seen the movie to understand the fic!

Read "Sesame Seeds and the Entire Spectrum of Human Emotion" on AO3.

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[Fic] Ghost

Prompt: "Ghost", 1990, Jerry Zucker Author: @maraudersaffair​ Word Count: 10,761 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: major character death (MCD), canon-typical violence, grief and mourning

Summary: When Harry is killed tragically during an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco does his best to move on. He's even a little cheered when Theo Nott starts pursuing him. Then Sybil Trelawney visits Draco.

Read "Ghost" on AO3.

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[Fic] all in good time

Prompt: "Groundhog Day", 1993, Harold Ramis Author: saltwatergarden Word Count: 13,054 words Rating: Mature Warnings: mentions alcohol

Summary: Draco Malfoy's life is boring and repetitive. He supposes he shouldn't complain, since that's better than sharing a house with Voldemort, or doing time in Azkaban. When he gets trapped in a time loop, however, he is forced to confront the routine he has fixed for himself, and try to break out of it. It isn't all bad, facing no consequences for his actions can be fun for a bit. But after he starts visiting the Auror Headquarters and having brief but remarkably pleasant conversations with one Auror Potter, he finally has the real motivation to break out of the time loop - something worth sticking around for.

Read "all in good time" on AO3.

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[Fic] Star Crossed

Prompt: "Romeo and Juliet", Shakespeare Author: GallifreyisBurning Word Count: 13,615 words Rating: Teen Warnings: none

Summary: Two Quidditch teams, alike in dignity, In fair Great Britain, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. The Wimbourne Wasps and the Appleby Arrows have been bitter rivals for centuries. When a nasty brawl ends one of their Seekers’ careers, the teams need new blood to take up the slack and divert attention from the bad publicity. And who better to distract the press than the infamous Draco Malfoy and golden boy Harry Potter? Called back from successful careers abroad, the pair are once again to be pitted against one another in an epic feud. Too bad no one told them that before they started flirting…

Read "Star Crossed" on AO3.

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[Fic] The Slytherin Host Club

Prompt: "Ouran high school host club", 2006, Bisco Hatori and Takuya Igarashi Author: shushu_yaoi_lj Word Count: 14,377 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: explicit sexual content, scars, non-graphic mention of past abuse

Summary: Harry is simply looking for a quiet place to finish his Potions essay.It's a pity he ends up at the Slytherin Host Club instead. Or maybe it's a blessing in disguise, since he's had a crush on Malfoy since the beginning of his eighth year...

Read "The Slytherin Host Club" on AO3.

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[Fic] It is on the other side of my soul (where your name is written)

Prompt: "Call Me By Your Name", 2017, Luca Guadagnino Author: opaleopioid Word Count: 16,372 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: implied switching, rimming, anal sex, no age difference (HP canon-compliant age difference)

Summary: Harry’s having it all, now that the unpleasantries of being treated like a loose cannon is gone: the war is well over, and Voldemort is long dead. He’s made the choice to stay in B, an unplottable magical town in Northern Italy, whose protection wards had kept him in one piece at the height of the second wizarding war, and whose seclusion provides him with the quiet, normal life that he now lives. Harry adores the grassy hills that enclose B like the warm arm of a mother; Likes playing the grand piano from dawn to dusk; Cherishes his current life, on the whole. He gets himself Mocaccino every morning and sometimes has dinner with the Weasleys at their cottage nearby. With the majority of his friends and family falling in love with B and gradually settling down as well, Harry feels like this is the last place he would ever want to leave. To say that the arrival of a certain wizard—a razor-sharp, infuriating blond—makes anything remotely different for Harry would be absurd, of course.

Read "It is on the other side of my soul (where your name is written)" on AO3.

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[Fic] In Search of Our Better Selves

Prompt: "Mad Max: Fury Road", 2015, George Miller Author: alrespirar Word Count: 17,519 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Mentions of past torture, mentions of past rape, brief mention of miscarriage, descriptions of gun violence and injury. Sexual content.

Summary: Five times Imperator Draco saved Potter’s life and the one time Potter saved his.

Read "In Search of Our Better Selves" on AO3.

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[Fic] Where in the World is Draco Malfoy?

Prompt: "Carmen Sandiego", 2019, Series Author: Anaxandria Word Count: 18,029 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Minor mentions of homophobia, violence, and blood

Summary: After the war, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter took parallel paths of fighting crime. Draco discovered the existence of VILE, an international organisation dedicated to the eradication of Muggle-borns. With the help of his best friend, Blaise, he commits international capers to steal artifacts before VILE can get their hands on them. Harry is the auror investigating the heists, but his instincts tell him there’s more than meets the eye.

Read "Where in the World is Draco Malfoy?" on AO3.

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[Fic] My Fair Gentleman

Prompt: "My Fair Lady", 1964, George Cukor Author: emilattes Word Count: 20,766 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: light alcohol use and mentions of child neglect by Dursleys

Summary: After an extended stay at Charlie's Dragon Reserve in Romania, Harry returns to London and makes a fool of himself at his first Ministry Gala. Minister Shacklebolt orders Harry to seven months of etiquette lessons with Draco Malfoy. Will Harry pull through and become an expert in PR? Will Draco manage to make over the biggest PR disaster the wizarding world has seen in years? Wouldn't it be loverly?

Read "My Fair Gentleman" on AO3.

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[Fic] saying yes (instead of no)

Prompt: "Schitt's Creek", 2015, Series Author: Pineau_noir Word Count: 21,022 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: canon typical alcohol and drug use, marijuana use, explicit smut

Summary: “It’s a general store that’s also a very specific store,” Draco grumbled. “Most people won’t realise this, but I want to market Muggle goods to the Wizarding world as well. I want something that will help boost the economy of the Hamlet and Muggles have so many amazing things we don’t have.” . Draco sighed again. “I think it would benefit everyone.” He glared at Emily. “But there’s not a single witch, wizard, or wix who will shop at a place owned by Draco Malfoy.” . “What if it’s owned by Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy?” Potter asked. . “That would be preposterous,” Draco mumbled. “Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would kill each other before the store opened.” . “What if you didn’t?” Emily asked. Draco opened his mouth to let her know, they would indeed kill each other, but before he could say anything, she continued, “What if it turned into a lovely business?” . “There’s only one way to know,” Potter said. “I really think this is a good idea, Draco."

Read "saying yes (instead of no)" on AO3.

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[Fic] A First Look Into Resurrecting Mummies With the Aid Of the Chosen One, and Why It Should Be Advised Against (an Essay by Draco Malfoy, Assistant Archaeologist)

Prompt: "The Mummy", 1999, Stephen Sommers Author: @cibeewastaken​ | Cibee (AO3) Word Count: 21,948 words Rating: Mature Warnings: minor violence elements

Summary: Draco hopes to find an ancient spell book rumoured to be in Hamunaptra after Astoria found a map to the lost city. If he makes this discovery, maybe the Magical British Museum will finally look at his application, and his annoying colleague will finally leave him alone. It’s a good plan, until Draco is reunited with Harry Potter for the first time in ten years, as the man is about to be hanged.

Read "A First Look Into Resurrecting Mummies With the Aid Of the Chosen One, and Why It Should Be Advised Against (an Essay by Draco Malfoy, Assistant Archaeologist)" on AO3.

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[Fic] Wicked Game

Prompt: "Jumanji", 1995 or 2017 Author: DearJames Word Count: 22,044 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Sexual Content, Implied PTSD

Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy crossed a line during one of their late-night Astronomy Tower Bonding Sessions and neither are sure what that means. Not that they got particularly far, considering they were caught and assigned detention for their antics. And, now, they've been sucked into a boardgame. That's just fantastic...

Read "Wicked Game" on AO3.

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[Fic] Love in Three Parts

Prompt: "Bridgerton", 2020, Series Author: static_abyss Word Count: 24,172 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Canon-typical content

Notes: Thanks so much to my beta, L, for all her help and her encouragement as I wrote this fic. Thanks to the mods for hosting this fest and to the Anonymous prompter who inspired this fic.

Summary: Draco has everything needed to be the diamond of the season. He has the looks, the pedigree, and if he should be short on the money end, well, it isn't up to him to convince anyone they want to marry him. And yet, he finds himself with no prospects and no suitable matches until Harry James Potter, Wizarding Britain's Most Eligible Bachelor, makes his first appearance in proper Wizarding society for the first time in five years. Together, they hatch a plan to secure Draco a husband and keep the debutantes' mothers away from Harry. And if someone should develop feelings along the way, well, the course of true love never did run smooth.

Read "Love in Three Parts" on AO3.

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[Fic] He would always win the fight

Prompt: "Killing Eve", 2018 - ongoing, TV Series Author: Akira-kun Word Count: 26,578 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Serial Killer, Off Screen Murders, Corpses, Political Polarity, Corruption in Government, Corruption in Justice System, Off Screen Violence, Post War Instability, Ambiguity, Dark!character, Vengeance, In a Twisted Way, Obsessive Behaviour, Crime Mystery, Open Ending

Summary: “But you were always just a puppet, weren’t you, Potter?” That voice kept haunting him, in his dreams and during his days, as if hovering over his shoulder, cold as a ghost, lost and lifeless. He wasn’t sure why it hurt like that. Maybe because it was an ugly truth that Harry hoped no one would ever throw back in his face. Or maybe because it was Malfoy. . Killing Eve inspired Drarry where people are getting killed, Harry is getting desperate, Draco is too sexy for his own good, and all hell will break loose.

Read "He would always win the fight" on AO3.

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[Fic] Peaches & Cream And A Little Bit Of Acid

Prompt: "Modern Love", 2019, Series Author: shortie990 Word Count: 27,755 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: suicidal thoughts, mental health issues

Summary: In love there is no real hiding. You have to be pretty up front on who you are. The problem was though, Harry didn’t have a clue who he was one moment from the next.

Read "Peaches & Cream And A Little Bit Of Acid" on AO3.

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[Fic] Outwit, Outlast, Outplay

Prompt: "Survivor", 2000-ongoing, Series Author: Albuss Word Count: 30,976 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Brief homophobia, mentions of past health issues

Summary: Draco loves Survivor. Loves it. So when his job at the Dept. of Mysteries offers him the opportunity to go on as a contestant, he can't think of anything that could go wrong. He is sorely mistaken, but a little chaos turns out to not be such a bad thing. Featuring gratuitous descriptions of Survivor game-play, really jargon-y magical theory I got way too excited about, and Draco's best friend Isabelle being an absolute QUEEN.

Read "Outwit, Outlast, Outplay" on AO3.

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[Fic] Advantage Rule

Prompt: "The Queen's Gambit", 2020, Series Author: @ziezie13​ Word Count: 42,738 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Character death, Parental neglect, Brief references to eugenics, Sexual content, Mild homophobia, Alcoholism, Drug abuse

Summary: Draco's life has been struggle after struggle. He was exiled as a baby, his mother died, he was forced to live with muggles... Need I go on? Quidditch was supposed to be his escape, but how is he supposed to beat Victor Krum and take the world title if he can't even beat Harry Potter? ~No knowledge of The Queen's Gambit required~

Read "Advantage Rule" on AO3.

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[Fic] (This Will Be) An Everlasting Love

Prompt: #12 (also fulfils #6) | "While You Were Sleeping," 1995, Jon Turteltaub Author: @drarrelie​ & @janieohio​ Word Count: 45,139 words Rating: Teen Warnings: None

Summary: Life doesn’t always turn out the way we plan. That’s what Draco’s mother always used to tell him, but Merlin, who could have predicted how right she would be? A story about feisty dragons, loneliness, family, and friends — and finding love in places you least expect.

Read "(This Will Be) An Everlasting Love" on AO3.

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[Fic] In a Field of Chrysanthemums and the Woods

Prompt: "The Untamed", 2019, TV-Series Author: @outstandingmoralfiber​ Word Count: 83,399 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Three notes, and yet they made all the difference. Draco could feel it, the slight magic and wavering notes, washing over him in a brief but calming wave that lit his soul and it was then that he knew that he was going to learn how to play this guqin no matter what. Little did he know that, like dominos, this one simple decision would diverge him onto a path he would've never imagined. - Wizarding world in the Untamed setting, (but you don't need to know anything about the Untamed). Drarry AU starting from Goblet of Fire. Rated E for the smut scene in Chapters 13 & 14, but is otherwise rated T.

Read "In a Field of Chrysanthemums and the Woods" on AO3.

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