#THE SPEED AT WHICH HE MAKES DEDUCTIONS

[ellecdc]

hi! this is my first request but i was wondering if you could do poly!marauders or any characters with reader who’s in a wheelchair? i saw your mute!reader and loved it so much! i’m a wheelchair user myself with limited mobility in my hands and i never see readers that resonate with me. if you can’t, that’s totally understandable though!

side note; but i can literally picture sirius and james trying to push the wheelchair and popping wheelies or even racing LMFAOOO

this is so cute! thanks so much for the request, I hope I did it justice! & the second part is absolutely not based off of a frequent scenario when me and my friend who is a wheelchair user go to restaurants 😅

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is a wheelchair user

CW: fluff, simping marauders, Remus advocating heavily for reader's independence, James just wanting to spoil reader, Sirius being the master of deduction, subtle/casual ableism

“Do you want a break, dove?” Remus asked pointedly; mostly making a statement to James and less concerned that you weren’t speaking up for yourself. 

“I don’t mind a break.” You said easily as you smiled up at James above you.

“Yes, but dove, do you want a break?” Remus asked again, moving to stand in front of you so you were forced to stop and look at him.

“My arms are a little tired, and this street does seem to have a bit of an incline. I’m happy to have James push me for a bit, Rem.” You assured him, though you hoped that your gratitude for his staunch defense of your independence shone through. 

“She knows I just like spoiling her.” James gloated as he bent overtop of you, pressing a ‘spiderman kiss’ to your lips before straightening up and speeding up the street. 

“It’s less that you like to spoil her and more that you like trying new tricks.” Sirius commented as he fell into step with Remus.

“It can be both!” James argued; laughing as you squealed when he ‘popped a wheelie’.

“Prongs, if you break her wheelchair I swear to God.” Remus threatened.

“I’m not gonna break it!” James argued before bending down to murmur into your ear. “I’m not gonna break it, am I?”

You chuckled as you leaned to press the side of your face to his cheek. “No you’re okay; just don’t get too rowdy.”

“Yes ma’am.” He agreed readily. 

“God I’m starved.” Sirius grumbled then. “Are you lot hungry?”

“I could eat!” James offered.

“It’d be nice to sit down for a bit; are you hungry, dove?” Remus asked. You looked up and down the street; happy to notice that even in this older part of town, there were plenty of wheelchair ramps. 

“Yeah, I think that should be fine.” You offered; though Sirius seemed to sniff out your hesitation as he quickly rushed over to plant his face against the window of a nearby establishment. 

“Not to worry, doll; this one looks good!” Sirius’ shout was muffled from where he was pressed up against the glass of a restaurant he deemed worthy of the four of you.

“They’re likely not going to allow us entrance with a hellian like you.” You teased half-heartedly - feeling really quite thankful for his easy deduction and thoughtfulness that not everyone put into finding accessible venues - as you took over guiding your chair and James relinquished his hold on your handles. 

“Why not? I thought they had to allow service dogs?” James taunted, causing Sirius to scoff indignantly and launch himself at James which quickly turned into a playful brawl right outside of the restaurant. 

“Good lord, we really can’t take them anywhere, can we?” Remus muttered as he came over and rested his hip against you, watching with a look of ill-hidden admiration for your two somewhat chaotic boyfriends.

“Oi!” You shouted, causing the two of them to split apart hastily, not unlike naughty school children caught scuffling on school grounds. “I thought I was being promised food?”

“Sorry angel!” James called at the same time Sirius said “and food you will get, princess.” 

The four of you headed towards the restaurant; James running up to hold the door for you all and Sirius patting his arse on his way by, followed by you and then Remus. 

Sirius, in all his casual panache, sauntered up to the hostess desk to ask for a table for four.

“Sounds great!” The hostess chirped back, visibly excited for the attention of a very attractive man. “Would you like a table or a booth?”

All three boys slowly turned to face you; Sirius fighting the urge to shake his head in second-hand embarrassment, James looking at you with a sort of frustrated bemusement, and Remus who shared a knowing smirk with you as they all allowed you to field the question.

“Erm, I think perhaps a table would be best, if you didn’t mind?” You asked the hostess with a smile, trying to bite back a chuckle at the way the blood seemed to drain from her face.

“Oh! Yes! Of course; terribly sorry, I- erm, right this way!” She sputtered, turning on her heel and walking - quite briskly - towards whichever table she deigned to seat you lot at as if she were hoping to quickly rid herself of this awkward situation. 

Remus, tapping your shoulder first to ask permission, took over driving for you so as to keep up with the rest of your party.

You felt a little bit bad for the hostess who kept turning to offer you apologetic smiles as you and Remus tried not to laugh at her expense. It wasn’t really her fault; she was simply reciting a script she likely had to ask nearly 100 times a day. 

But the way you saw it; if you had to deal with society’s subtle ableism, you were entitled to a few chuckles at their expense. 

You made sure to thank the hostess as she removed the fourth chair from your table before she left.

“I love watching people squirm like that.” Sirius commented as he sat down.

“Don’t be mean.” You admonished. “She didn’t know.”

“Well she ought to know.” James grumbled then. 

“I’m not that fussed; it’s kind of funny.” You said then as you reached for a glass of water; James quickly leaning forward to grab it for you.

“She can grab herself a glass of water, bubs.” Remus chided tiredly then, shooting you an apologetic look. 

“Yes but she shouldn’t have to, Rem. Don't act like I don't do the same for you when your joints are acting up.” James responded as he handed your drink to you carefully before pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek.

You winked sympathetically at Remus as his face flushed in embarrassment. 

“The only difference is that she gets the princess treatment 24/7.” Sirius added with a wink as he pulled Remus roughly into his side. 

And though you’d likely never admit it out loud, you couldn’t deny that you sort of loved the princess treatment.

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 8.

Going down the rabbit hole that is your mirror a third time feels a little more normal. Even though traveling through it to begin with is the definition of crazy, you’ve started to get used to it. Just like the last two times you awaken to your bedroom, you feel smothered by that sensation of being forced under something heavy and lying on a fluff cloud. Your mirror ripples and gleams a bright white light that beckons you forward. 

You’re not exactly prepared for this, but you don’t have any time to. You throw off the odd feeling blankets and make your way to the mirror, which is sparkling in its usual white light. 

You take a deep dream breath to steady your nerves. You want this trip through the looking glass to be different this time. Instead of you stumbling through the mirror world completely blind, you need to go through determined to find answers. 

You’re smart enough to recognise the pattern. Whatever happens there seems to happen in your dreams, to some effect, have happened in real life. The painted roses, the cards soldiers, and Ace and Deuce, being beheaded by the Queen for breaking the rules. There’s a pattern and if it keeps up tonight, then tomorrow during the duel something is going to happen that will be similar to your dreams. 

Plus, there’s also the King of Hearts. He and Alice were the only ones who could see you so far, and Winston was the darling of the Queen. There had to be something that he knew that could help you. And if your dreams were really sending you back in time to meet them, then he had to know something that can help you. Even if it was a tiny detail, you needed to know.

Plus. If your deduction was correct, then Crowley had done jack all since you arrived to send you back home, then maybe you could find something out from someone like you. A darling that’s terrified. If it’ll lead back home, it's worth a shot, right?

Now invigorated with courage, you place your hand on the glass, and it ripples. And you’re pulled into wonderland.

You’re somewhere unfamiliar. As in it doesn’t look like the rose maze anymore. In fact, this place looks very different. 

The rose garden is beautiful, the hallway you’re in now is ominous. Even with the gaudy red hearts. The black, white and red are smothering here. The hallways narrow, but ornate. It’s covered with heart-covered and heart-shaped vases, picture frames, and statues. The hallway’s lit up by heart shaped lamps that glow gray, meant to give off light but feel the room feel so dark. The manic and exaggerated shapes and the monotony of the overwhelming crimson red makes you feel a little tremble. 

You take hesitant steps down the hall, scanning them for anything helpful or clues. 

“This is…new.” And so far what’s new makes you feel chills. “What is the mirror trying to show me n-”

A deafening roar of <Off With Their HEADS!!!> echoes through the halls and interrupts your thoughts and makes you jump in surprise. The roar makes the decor shake and rattle, some fall and shatter. 

You gulp nervously and your heart speeds up. This doesn’t feel right.

Another roar fills the air <SILENCE!!> makes you hasten your footsteps. Whatever’s happening you're missing it, and you need all the help you can get right now. 

You run down the hall to nowhere, finding no doorways, until the hall ends. It’s a single door, knee high and heart shaped. 

“How the hell am I supposed to-” Another roar fills the hall and breaks a nearby lamp. “Alright, I’m going!” You shove it open and crawl through, and it shrinks around you just to make things worse, After a mild struggle, you finally get through, something better be on the other side-

Something grabs you by the back of your pajamas, and you hauled up to be faced with the King of Hearts. 

And he looks angry. <What are you doing here?!> He whisper-yells, shaking you by your shoulders. 

“I-I-” 

You don’t get to put a word in, and shit must’ve hit the fan hard when you were gone because Winston starts ranting. <What are you, the Cheshire Cat!? You were there one moment and gone the next! I’m stressed out of my mind trying to keep a girl alive and you just keep popping up to make things even more stressful!!!> He pauses for a moment, to recollect himself, <H-How did you even get here?!>

“I used the door-” You turn and point to find no door or wall and instead find a sharp decline into a certain death behind the haphazard judge’s bench. “Nevermind” You quickly finish as you take a nervous step back from the ledge. 

<Well,  it doesn’t matter you have to->

<Winston, sweetheart, who are you speaking too?> The voice that pipes up is mockingly fond. As if they’re entertaining a child speaking to an imaginary friend. You look past Winston, to see a stout woman that looks suspiciously like the Queen of Hearts.

No seriously, her mocking, smiling face looks so punchable, that it reminds you of Riddle. A heart shaped with high cheekbones, and a glare that rivals Riddle Rosehearts, her black hair is tied up into a rose shape, slick backed, smooth and orderly. Her dress is extravagant even in the field of black and white, red undertones over taking the dress. Her crown is larger than Winston's, cementing to you that she is in charge and he’s unwillingly along for the ride.

She looks like a real person this time. Are your dreams progressing? Becoming more detailed?

Winston looks at her incredulously, you can hear him mutter, <C-Can’t you see her?...> Pointing in your direction confused. 

<There’s no one there, Winston. Are you imaging things again?> The King of Hearts spares you a conflicted look, before finally agreeing with her.

<I must be…..> He says after a few long moments.

<Of course sweetheart. How could you survive without me?> She chuckles to herself, and you feel the urge to punch someone again. 

A soft voice snaps you out of it. <Um…Your Majesty?> You finally notice Alice from her place down below. She looks a mix of exasperated, confused and terrified as she stands in the defendant’s chair. The Queen redirects her ire back to Alice as soon as she raises her voice. She screams like a banshee and roars like a violent loud animal. 

You take advantage of the noise to speak to Winston. “Winston I-”

He interrupts you, losing himself to his ramblings, <I’ve finally lost, haven’t I?> Winston laughs bitterly. <You’re not real, you’re just a figment of my imagination…>

“No. You haven’t and I’m not.” You push, desperate to make him see reason, “Alice has seen me before, I’m real!” You hurriedly whisper-yell. 

<Then if you’re real then you have to help Alice and you have to help me->

<HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY TO YOU!> A cake and teapots, and all the fixing that remind you of the buffet yesterday at Heartslabyul. The Queen and nearly everyone in the room are excitedly celebrating while Winston and Alice look exasperated. Seemingly exhausted from the shenanigans that are ensuing before you.

“W-What’s happening?” You raise an eyebrow in complete confusion. Yesterday an unbirthday party made sense because it was a party at a dorm then a trial room with a death sentence. 

Winston sighs in abject misery, <A trial.  I did it to save Alice from losing her head, but this nonsense is a trial. And I thought back home was crazy.>

You perk up at his words. Back home means that he’s not from wonderland so if that’s the case…Just to be sure, you ask. “You’re not from here?”

He looks at you curiously, still halfway between believing you’re real or not, <I-I’m from London, England. I came here by accident and have been stuck here ever since.>

“You know where London is?” You feel hope bloom in your chest, “Are you from Earth?”

<Yes, but->

You interrupt him in your budding excitement, “Then you have to help me! I’m stuck here, like you and Alice!”

<Regardless of whether you’re real or fake, I-I can’t help you! If Mary finds out, I tried to escape again, heads will roll! >

You haul the king up by his shirt. “Would you rather be stuck here forever?! If there’s a way out, we need to take it!” You can ignore the ‘being stuck here ever since’ part for now, because if he and Alice (who are real in this world) come from Earth and know about a way back, then that means there’s a way back to your world from Twisted Wonderland. Alice goes home at the end of the story, so there is a way back home for you in this world. And you need that way out. You just need to get to it. 

<I’ll help you on one condition.>

“Anything!”

<Help Alice. I can’t let another person die.> And then he shoves you. And then you're falling. You don’t even get the opportunity to scream as you’re pushed. Falling off that deathly edge, and hitting the floor hard. 

“Ow….” Damnit Winston, if you weren’t stuck in the same situation as him, you’d curse him out

<Miss, you’re back!> You slowly open your eyes to see Alice standing over you in worry, still completely black and white. <W-Where did you come from?>

“A place like you.” Alice lights up at your words,  “How’s your trial going?” only to deflate five seconds later. 

<It doesn’t make any sense, this trial doesn’t follow any rules.> You climb to your feet brushing off the imaginary dust off your dream self. 

“No, it does.” You’re forced to admit. “They’re just horrible rules.”

<Well, this really isn’t-> Whatever justifiable statement is cut off by the Queen being undistracted by the unbirthday celebrations. 

You don’t even know what happened next. 

One moment, Alice is pointing out the Cheshire Cat, her words, on the Queen’s head, and the next the Queen is a mess of jam and her torn flag, with a new bump on her crazy head. And Alice is holding the mallet and jam when the Queen finally clears her eyes. 

Winston bangs his head on the judges bench in defeat, at the sight of the mayhem.

“OFFF with-” the Queen interrupts herself, as Alice hurriedly stuffs her face with two pieces of something you don’t recognise. Her eyes go wide for a moment, as  her muscles twitch and her body contorts in places. She then grows over a mile high. Because of how rapidly she grew, you end up on the giantess Alice’s shoulders. 

<Oh, are you alright?> Alice asks, concerned. You give her a thumbs up in reply as the nausea in your gut trembles, before giving way. Now calmed, knowing one of her few friends here are okay, Alice focuses her attention on the tyrant whose red face has gone pale. <And as for you, Your Majesty….’Your Majesty,’ indeed!> The mushroom that Alice ate causes her to grow as tall as the trial room ceiling is high. You cling to her shoulder with your nails, not wanting to fall from this height. What crack did you smoke last night to dream this? Anyway,  Alice takes her moment to finally tell off the pompous queen, with all the confidence that a seven year old can have. 

The queen shrinks back in surprise at the seven-year old’s new size, and Alice chooses this to be the time to finally tell off the tyrant. 

<Why, you’re not a queen. You’re just a fat, pompous, bad-tempered old ty…tyrant…> As if Alice couldn’t get any more unlucky, the mushroom’s magic wears off as she starts to lay down the facts. Her confidence dies as she shrinks back to size.  You tumble off of Alice’s shoulder as she shrinks smaller and smaller. And the longer she speaks, the more the Queen’s glare gets more and more murderous.

<Mmhmmhmmhmm….> You, even at this distance, can see the fear painting across the King’s face and worry on Alice’s. This isn’t good, and the longer the Queen holds that note the more grim those looks become. You embrace the shaking girl. You can hear her whimpers of ear the longer this draws out. <What were you saying, my dear?>

A cat pops onto the head of the Queen, reminding you of Chenya even with the black and white, who parrots the, now shaking, Alice’s words. <Well, she simply said that you’re a fat, pompous, bad tempered old tyrant!> The cat cackles, as the Queen’s face turns red, contrasting the black and white.

<OOOOOOFFF with her head!!!>

You watch as the card soldiers jump from their seats to descend on the two of you as Alice clings to you for dear life, as the card shoulders dive to deliver her to her death sentence. 

But before the avalanche of card soldiers obscure everything from view, you can hear the King of Hearts beg his wife and captor to spare the poor girl. <Darling she’s just a child!>

And then the world blurs.

You’re back in your bed. Alice isn’t in your arms anymore, instead it’s Grim.

Why won’t anyone stop the queen? Someone could have stopped her.

AND THEN YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN YOUR EXIT!! FUCK!

Great. Winston had promised to help you if you helped Alice. And now you can’t go back till you go to bed! And that’s if Alice hasn’t gone home or lost her head yet! YAY!

You groan before sitting up, not expecting the violent pain in your neck. You then hiss in pain, just barely managing to massage the flesh locked under the collar. 

What a great way to start the morning. 

But there was some good news. The tyrant queen will get called out for her tyranny. That’s something to look forward to at the duel today. Still doesn’t make you feel any better though. 

“Ugh, Great.” You rub the exhaustion out of your eyes, to be face to face with Grim. 

“Hey, ____! Ah, good, you’re already up!” 

“Didn’t exactly have the best sleep.” Maybe you should tell grim about your dreams, just in case. But that’s a later thing, “Ready to get these collars off?” 

“Yeah!”

Back at the tyrant’s castle, er, Heartslabyul, the residents have all gathered in the magical battlegrounds within the rose garden. Why someone built a magical battlefield in the middle of a flammable rose maze must have been a tyrant themselves, because why someone didn’t bring up the flammable part at some point during the dorm’s construction was a question you’re not stupid enough to come up with an answer to.

Speaking of tyrants, Riddle must have gone on a power trip stoked by his tantrum yesterday. Because the number of students wearing collars, minus or plus Ace and Deuce pick one, has to have doubled in one night. Seriously, a good quarter of the audience has to be wearing collars. 

And because of said collars, this duel is going to go south real fast. Because Riddle’s already fucking cheating with his signature spell. Seriously, magic nullification should not be allowed in duels like this but for some reason it is.

But back to the duel of the century, for just Heartslabyul. The dorm residents have been gossiping since your group’s arrival….

“Did you hear? They say someone’s challenged Dorm Leader Rosehearts to a duel!”

“Riddle Rosehearts? Seriously?! Whoever it is has gotta be outta his mind. Riddle will have his head off in five seconds flat.”

…about how stupid this decision was. You mean, you agree, but they’re the ones living under a tyrant. Have a little positivity, everyone. 

Thankfully, there are few who have held onto the aforementioned positivity. 

“Still, it’s the first challenge since Rosehearts took power. I’m pumped!” In your opinion, the dorm should be like that guy. That guy has a little faith.

Also, Trey apparently didn’t warn Cater about the duel that was probably going viral on Heartslabyul’s Magicam, because he looks completely shocked as you told him about the shit preparing to hit the fan.  “You’re saying Ace and Deuce are challenging Riddle for the dorm leader’s seat?! Please tell me you’re kidding!”

You sigh, “I’m not, Cater. Wish I was.”

“We tried to stop ‘em.” Correction, Trey. YOU tried to stop them, he sat there and did nothing like with Riddle. Seriously, the bystander effect is strong with Trey; it's like he’s afraid of saying something when he needs to. Did Riddle’s mom traumatize him too!?

Cater looks positively miserable at the revelation. “Of all the stupid ideas…I just hope this doesn’t make everything worse.”

“You and me both.” Trey agrees, but now you're both curious and concerned. Just how much worse is worse?

Crowley’s clearing of his throat silences the crowd’s chatter. Kinda concerning that he's more focused on two students dueling a dorm leader than the rampant abuse of power that’s going on in this dorm, but whatever it’s not like negligence is a crime or something. Though it probably isn’t given your experience so far. 

“We are about to commence two challenges for the dorm leader position at Heartslabyul House.” He announces as grandiose as possible. “The first challenger is Ace Trappola, the second challenger is Deuce Spade. The current housewarden they have challenged is Riddle Rosehearts.”

“Now, in accordance with the duel rules, please remove the magic-sealing collars as they would provide an unfair disadvantage.” Oh, you were waiting for that.

Riddle snaps his fingers and the collars dissolve away into sparks, leaving behind red marks around Ace and Deuce’s necks. Given Ace has been stuck in that thing for two nights you can’t imagine the relief he must feel. “Ah! FINALLY, the dumb collar is off!”

Yours and Grim’s are still on though. Oh, did he just forget that you and Grim were collateral damage to yesterday’s rampage? You can feel your rage rising. 

“Enjoy your moment of freedom. The collar will be back on soon enough.” Riddle’s cocky smirk looks so punchable, and you feel an itch in your fingers. Still cockiness might be his downfall. 

But before that…..

“Hey, Rosehearts!” You call out, “ Just to point something out,” You say as sarcastically and humorlessly as possible, “could you please remove mine and Grim’s. We’re not even in your dorm!” Riddle sighs, as if you’ve been bugging him about this for hours, before finally unlocking the literal weight around your and Grim’s necks. And you breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” The ‘Asshole’ part goes unsaid, for fear of making this worse.

Now, that the cone of shame on your neck is gone you can let them return back to the pre-duel banter. “Carry on.” You say with a dismissive wave of your hand.

Riddle hmphs, returning his focus back to his two challengers. “I could hardly believe it when I heard you two intended to duel me. Is this a joke?”

There’s a “Do I look like I’m joking?” from Ace and a “I’d never propose a duel as a joke!” from Deuce. They’re not backing down now. 

“Hmph. Have it your way. Let us get this over with.” Indeed, let’s get this over with, because you might have a room to clear out when this eventually fizzles out. That doesn’t mean you won’t cheer for Ace and Deuce, Bravery is still something to praise even if it’s on par with stupidity.

But like before, Cater intervenes when he really shouldn’t, “Uh, Riddle, what do you want to do about today's afternoon tea?”

“A foolish question. You know that the rules stipulate I take my tea everyday at 4 PM sharp.” Oh, so he’s cocky that he can finish this in, what, thirty minutes. 

“It’s just that it’s already past 3:30….”

“And you fear that I will be late? All the more reason to end this promptly.” So he’s very cocky. You can only hope it will be his downfall. 

“It appears I have little time to waste. Rather than facing my opponents in succession, I will take on both at once.” Oh. Wow, he’s…..he’s arrogant if he thinks that. Well, Ace and Deuce are probably screwed. 

The cheers of the dorm residents fill the air as stiff and empty as they were yesterday. 

“You can do it, Dorm Leader!”

“Knock ‘em dead, sir!”

You can see Trey shake his head to your  right, so he still hasn’t said anything. Coward.

“Cowards,” you hear Deuce say, and you agree, because you’re looking right at one. To say that you don’t want to hurt his feelings after a hard time, when you’re letting him force that hard time onto others is the definition of cowardice.

“Myah, I got a bad feelin’ about this.” You squeeze Grim tighter. 

“I do too, Grim.” 

“Hey, at least we got a plan!” A plan that already hangs on by a thread, Ace but you’ll accept his confidence. 

“Headmaster, please give us the signal.” Riddle’s already sure of his victory even before it starts, and he might be right, but a part of you wants him to suffer, just a little.

“When the mirror, I’ve thrown shatters upon the ground, that is your signal to begin. Ready…Go!” 

“You guys can do it!” You offer them some encouragement, but….

“OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!” You saw the way this battle ends from miles away.

If you're being generous, you’ll call that another deja vu moment. This insanity of constant ‘beheadings’ is starting to become grating. But, you hope the ending of the calling out part comes sooner rather than later. 

“That was…..fast.” You say glumly, it’s sad that they failed so quickly but at least they tried. It had to be, what, 5 seconds into the duel before the collars locked on and it was over. Saddening, upsetting but expected. 

Well, now what?

“Visualization is key to spell casting.” Crowley starts an unhelpful speech about magic. It’s not really helpful in this situation, because if Riddle has his way from now on Ace and Deuce are going to be wearing those collars till Riddle graduates. “The better you are at accurately visualizing your magic’s effect, the stronger and more precise it will be.”

“They lost in less than ten seconds, you’re not helping Crowley.” You point out the explicitly obvious, because it doesn’t fucking matter about how visualisation is important when a. They lost before they cast a single spell, and b. They can’t even use their magic to practice now. “Still, it would appear Mr.Rosehearts has finely honed his magic.” Ouch, salt in the wound. Stroke the tyrant’s ego even more too. Crowley’s just batting zero right now. 

“Myah…They didn’t stand a chance.” Grim bemoans at the loss. 

You sigh, “Well at least they tried….” it wasn’t really an attempt even but at the very least. You force a smile on your face as you approach your two friends, “You guys did your best, or were going to your best..” You add unhelpfully, before giving them each a gentle smile. . You might have to just let them stay it seems.

Ace opens his mouth to reply but someone else does to add their unhelpful commentary. “Hardly. They didn’t even last five seconds.” You can hear Ace and Deuce growl as you turn to face the cocky tyrant. 

 That cocky, self-righteous brat keeps adding his unwanted opinion. “That was all you had, and still you thought to challenge me? You must be utterly humiliated.”

You glare at him, “You won already. Stop rubbing it in.”

Riddle’s too high on his high horse to seem to be aware of what happens below. “I guess my mother was right. A man who cannot follow rules is a man who cannot achieve anything.” You’re going to put a knife between that woman’s eyes if you ever meet up. Mommy undearest’s parenting has screwed him up so much that he’s doing the same thing to the people he lives with.

If Ace or Deuce actually won this battle he probably would have been run out of the dorm.

“Tch…We agree that rules should be followed. But forcing others to follow nonsensical rules like the ones you’ve enacted is tyranny!” 

“Then you agree that breaking the rules is wrong. And in this dorm, I AM the rules.” Is…is he serious? Did he miss the second part of Deuce’s sentence? “Therefore, those who cannot abide by my decisions deserve not the heads they use to complain!”

You had enough of this.

You’ve bit your tongue bloody, thanks to this brat’s tyranny.  You've been inconvenienced again and again because of his pretentious and frankly ridiculous rules.

 Screw manners, screw survival, and screw this red-haired little absolutist pain the ass! “But that’s not right! You can’t just use the rules to do whatever you please!” You yell in fury. 

“I am the one who decides what is wrong and right-”

You cut him off. “And you’re also a pain in the neck and the ass, that pretends he’s the perfect student that can do no wrong, because mommy said so!” His eyes widen in shock as you finally, finally go off the leash you tethered to yourself this entire time. And you’re not done. “How can you be so blinded by your own delusions that you can’t even see how unreasonable it is to follow, frankly, the most STUPID of rules!?!” You can feel your cheeks warming and the blood in your ears roaring in boiling hot fury. You can feel someone try to calm your rage with a hand, Deuce’s, on your shoulder. You’re pissed and tired and angry and what does he do?

He continues talking like you didn’t say anything. “If there were no penalties, no one would follow the rules.” You;re going to punch him. 

“You!-” What he says next cuts your thoughts and words off completely.

“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules? Clearly, you were born to parents with no great magical capability. As a result…you lack even the basic education necessary to attend a school such as this. It’s quite sad.”

You blink, taken aback. The rage in you is stunned into pacification. 

He did not. 

He did not just say that about you.

“You-” You can’t even string your thoughts together completely stunned. You can forgive someone being unreasonableYou feel something different from rage, something stronger, boiling inside you. 

“You little…” Deuce releases you, prepared to pummel the tyrant into the ground but…..

“You shut your spoiled little mouth!” Ace dashes forward fist raised and-

He punches Riddle clean across the face. 

Hard enough to knock Riddle off his feet. Ace quite literally beat Deuce to the punch. 

So many voices speak up in shock and surprise at Riddle, the untouchable dorm leader, finally eating his just desserts. Right in the face too.

You don’t say anything, staring at what’s about to unfold, with a blank expression.

“That’s all I can take. Forget Riddle. Forget the duel. I’m done.” Just like Alice in your dreams last night, calls out the now stunned red sovereign.

“That hurt! You…p-punched me?!” Riddle’s genuinely stunned. Is stunned by his house of cards finally starting to collapse around him? You can’t bring yourself to care. 

Ace spits some facts. 

“Kids aren’t trophies for their parents to flaunt. And the accomplishments of a child aren’t determined by the worth of their parents. It’s  not your parents’ fault you became a tyrant -or anyone else’s. You’ve been here a year and haven’t even made a friend who will tell you you’re outta line. And that’s on you.”

“What are you even talking about?” 

“Yeah, maybe you had some rigid upbringing from a relentless helicopter-mom. Is that all you are? An extension of her? Can’t you think for yourself? You call yourself the ‘red sovereign’. You’re just a baby who’s good at magic.”

“Baby…? Did you just call me a ‘baby’?! You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know anything about anything!” But despite the honest truths that Ace is trying to make the pretentious tyrant hear for what has to be the first time in his life, Riddle refuses to listen.

“Nope, sure don’t. And I don’t need to. Your attitude tells me all I need to know- that you’re nothing but a spoiled brat!” Ace doesn’t let up on the lecture Riddle probably needed to hear last year. 

Riddle’s face is starting to turn pink from his blind anger. “Shut up, shut up, shut UP! My mother was right! And that means I’m right too!” Riddle practically roars in anger. He’s shaking from barely repressed rage. 

Trey steps between them to prevent what has to be a near disaster, trying to pacify the screaming tyrant. “Riddle, calm down. The duel is already over.”

“Mr. Clover is correct.” Crowley  The challenger has been disqualified due to physical violence. If you do not cease your conflict now, I’ll have you written up for breaking school rules!” But even with the threat of breaking his own personal rules and being a rule breaker himself doesn’t soothe his rage. It doesn’t matter here anyway, because as long as no one is willing to stand up to-

“Ace is right, though! I’ve had enough of Riddle!” A voice in the crowd shouts, and he throws something small aimed directly at Riddle’s head.

An egg cracks in Riddle’s hair. Egg goop trails down his face. You fight back a laugh with all your willpower. Well, color you impressed. The card soldiers aren't completely useless, brain dead drones. 

For half a second everyone is frozen solid. And then the egg practically cooks on Riddle’s face as he searches for the offender, completely infuriated. “Who did that? Who threw that egg?!”

And this time, the silence feels both suffocating and glorious. At least the cowards have finally stood up for themselves, at least a little. Unfortunately Riddle, instead of taking the obvious hint the egg to the face was, he laughs. And it’s not a composed one.

“Heh heh…Ah ha ha ha!”  It’s an insane one.

Riddle snaps at all of the now cowering dorm students“You say YOU’RE fed up?! I’M the one who’s fed up with all of YOU!” 

“No matter how strict I am, no matter how many heads I remove, you keep breaking the rules! All any of you care about is doing what YOU want to do! If the guilty party won’t come forward, then I’ll pass judgment on all of you!”

“Clearly, none of you value your heads! OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!!!” Like a tyrant gone wild, collars lock on to every single one of the residents' necks, save Trey and Cater, sealing off their magic.  You’re getting real tired of hearing that. 

The Heartslabyul residents scatter like headless, heh pun unintended but fitting, chickens. “Bwaaah! Let’s get out of here!” “Urrrgh!” 

Riddle, reassured that his tyranny will last,  shoves past Ace to rub in his ‘victory’ to Ace.“How do you like that, hm? Now no one can do a thing to me! Do you see now? My strict adherence to the rules was clearly the correct path!”

Crowley still does nothing to calm, or now that Riddle’s actually broken some rules, to punish Riddle for this insanity. “Cease this improper behavior now, Mr. Rosehearts. I expect better from you!”

“Crowley, could you maybe actually do something!?!” You finally point out the utter stupidity of him not doing anything while Riddle literally abuses his power. 

“Uh…Trey, if he keeps using his spell…This could get ugly, fast!” You barely hear Cater over the chaos.

Trey does, still trying to separate the fuming  Riddle away from Ace and a catastrophe. “Riddle, stop this!”

Ace might be perspective but he’s incapable of reading the room when shit really starts to go bad. “Wow, way to totally prove me wrong here, pal! I call you a baby and you immediately throw a temper tantrum!”

Riddle’s face goes deep crimson. “Retract your comment immediately, or I shall skewer you where you stand!” He yells. 

This might not be good.

Ace doesn’t let up “No way. I ain’t retraction’ squat.”

Face red, eyes full of rage and mania, Riddle’s reached the point of fury where words are impossible and yells of anger are the only sounds that can be made. “YEEEAAARGH!!!”

“Dude, this is bad! You’ve G-2-G, now!” You feel a hand on your wrist, Cater's, dragging you away from the rampaging tyrant.

And then you're blinded by the debris.The earth shakes for too long as the rose bushes are yanked out of the earth, the fragile yet heavy bushes floating high in the air. Ripped up from their earth , roots and all, and float in mid-air. The roses and their thorny brambles writhe under Riddle’s magic.

Debris and dirt float through the air, alongside the rose bushes. 

“W…Whoa…” You take a nervous step back, “Shit.” 

“The rose trees! They’re floating!”

“This is some serious magic!”

The roses and their brambles might not be the strongest weapon, but Riddle’s magical strength is powerful, as you watch the roses and branches become arrows, perfect for tearing flesh from bone and crushing the rest. 

“Mighty roses, tear this brute to pieces!” Riddle yells, completely blinded at his anger. The roses, thorns and all fly like arrows aimed directly at Ace. A deadly shot, if it lands.

“Ace! MOVE!” You dash forward, but a pair of arms are around your waist holding you back from the barrage of arrows aimed at your friend. You look around frantically and you see who’s stopping you from helping the first friend you made here. It’s Deuce. When did he get next to you? Nevermind. “Lemme go! Ace needs help!” 

Deuce shakes his head with a remorseful expression. “I can’t let you get hurt!”

Since you can’t get to Ace, “Crowley! DO something!” You yell at the Headmaster who’s done jack diddly since Riddle’s tantrum progressed into hemorrhage. All he’s done here is politely ask Riddle to stop, and Ace might actually die if Riddle keeps at this. 

“Cease and desist at once!” Crowley doesn’t do anything, but yells at him to stop, and Riddle’s already too angry to listen.

But it’s too late for any one to push Ace out of the way, 

“ACE!” You can’t even shut your eyes as the roses and brambles come down. You take back every thing you’ve ever said about Ace, and this world if it means you don’t witness him being killed….

…..By playing cards?

Instead of roses and their thorns tearing Ace to shreds….playing cards fall from the sky.

“Huh? I’m still alive?” Ace is as stunned as you and everyone else here. 

Deuce is probably as stunned as you, because his arms go limp, and you practically tackle Ace, “Are you okay!?” Your arms and legs are jelly from adrenaline, but you manage to stumble over and check him over with trembling hands. 

“Y-Yeah,”He answers and you sigh in clear relief.  What’s with all these playing cards?”

“All the rose trees turned into cards?” Deuce is right, All the roses and their brambles are gone. Instead it’s all playing cards. And nothing more. How did that even happen?!

Wait. Deja vu again, this keeps happening. Cards falling against an innocent. But there’s no time for that. 

Because Riddle’s face is murderous, and his grip on his magical staff is so tight it could have snapped in half. He raises it again, prepared to recast as “Why didn’t you-”

Deuce dives in between you and Ace, to act as human shield but Trey stops him, shielding you all from Riddle’s view. “Riddle, stop this right now!” Oh, so NOW Trey decides enough is enough, murder was the last straw. Wonderful. 

“Wait, is that Trey’s ‘Paint the Roses’?! But…how?!” You can hear a confused Cater, and thank goodness, because Trey saved Ace’s life. 

“All the magic sealin’ collars are gone!” Grim’s right, You didn’t even notice in the mayhem. Ace and Deuce, and probably all the Heartslabyul residents, all have their magic-sealing collars removed. 

“What did I tell you? My magic can overwrite characteristics for a short time. So I used it to make ‘Riddle’s magic’ into ‘my magic’.” Trey’s explanation lets you breathe a sigh of genuine relief. At least now, Riddle is defenseless.

“You can do that? That’s some kinda loophole!” And a lucky loophole to test on someone about to die.

Meanwhile in Crazy town, Riddle’s discovered his magic’s no longer his own. “N-no…Off with their heads! I SAID, off with their heads!” Every attempt Riddle makes to cut off everyone’s magic just causes more and more playing cards to fly out. But depending on how short the time Trey’s magic can work, that might not be for long. Especially with how many times Riddle tries recasting. 

Trey finally puts his foot down. “Riddle, stop. Can’t you see how you look right now?”

You can’t believe that this is what it took to finally open the eyes of the residents. Ace nearly being murdered because Riddle’s ego got bruised. At least now, their eyes have been opened to the true extent of Riddle’s cruelty. 

Which they decide to vocalize in the presence of the tyrant with the bruised ego. They’re not very smart. are they? 

“He…he was really gonna do it!” “He is completely out of control.” “He’s like some kinda monster!”

Thankfully, and unfortunately, Riddle isn’t focused on that. Instead, he’s more concerned with the fact that his magic isn’t his anymore. And Trey is the reason. “What? Was my magic overwritten by yours? Does that mean your signature spell is stronger than mine?!” He demands, turning on the only one who ever really defended him in his madness. 

“Of course it doesn’t. Riddle, take a deep breath and listen to us.” Trey tries to reason, but it’s too late for Riddle to be reasonable, with him already lost in the throes of his anger.

You start to feel a chill up your spine, like back in the mines with that monster. But why are you-

Still completely unreasonable, Riddle’s still deaf to Trey's words, “Are YOU going to tell me that I’m wrong too? After all I’ve done to protect the rule of law?! Do you know how much I’ve suffered for this?! I…I refuse to believe this!” That chill gets worse, and the ominous and malicious feeling you’re getting from Riddle gets worse. Something much darker. A line of dark blood drips from Riddle’s nose. Wait, that’s not blood. Blood isn’t….black.

You might be angry about earlier, but unlike Riddle, you haven’t lost your wits. You can tell when things are nose-diving into a downward spiral at terminal velocity. Because the longer Riddle spits his mad ravings, the more of that black stuff comes out.

You normally wouldn’t do this, mostly because you want to punch the bastard. But that inky stuff has to be a bad omen. “Riddle, you need to calm down.” You try to soothe the raging beast, even though you’re sure that this is a bad idea. “You don’t want to be a rulebreaker, right? So just calm down and we’ll talk this out.”

“Wha-OW!” Ace looks at you as if you’d gone insane too, but you elbowed him harshly in the gut. 

Riddle’s angry glare falls on you. And you could see the veins starting to twitch under his skin. If he gets any more angry, then he might have a stroke. “ I! AM NOT! A RULE BREAKER!” He yells, his own rage leaving him breathless. “AND YOU! OF ALL PEOPLE! HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!”

“I’m just trying to calm you down, you don’t really want to break the rules by hurting anyone, do you?” You hope he doesn’t actually want to hurt anyone. Plus, you’re really not ready to witness someone’s death. 

Riddle’s face is so red, it looks like it might explode. And his glare could kill you and cook the remains with how fiery it is. 

He snaps, his voice laden with venom. 

“YOU! DARLINGS LIKE YOU! ARE WHY WE NEED THE RULES! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT TO ME!”

…..What.

Did he just- 

No way, he just did. He did. 

Shit. Shit...SHIT. 

FUCK YOU, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS!

You did NOT go through all that shit for him to reveal it to everyone here in a fit of rage. No fuck him, fuck this, whatever shit he has going on can wait because you need this bastard’s neck to be the other way round. 

You feel fire burn under your skin. You’re gonna-

“Wait, wha-” You hear , and you don’t even have the ability to freeze up in terror. Because you gotta disperse the potential nightmare of Ace and Deuce finding out. Even if they don’t believe him, the doubt will remain. So you’re basically fried. 

“It’s nothing!” You frantically yell to cut off whatever Ace or  Deuce were going to say as fast as you can as you feel your heart speed up in total panic.  You’ll be lucky if they think this is a psychotic rambling of a raging tyrant. This just keeps getting worse and worse for you. 

If Riddle doesn’t get killed in this madness, then he owes you an apology and you owe him a big, fat fist to the face. 

Meanwhile as you prepare for your own mental breakdown, Crowley maintains his complete and utter uselessness, even though he probably has the power to stop this. “Cease immediately, Mr. Rosehearts! Any further attempt to use magic will leave your magestone completely tainted with blot!”

What is blot?! 

And why is Riddle-

“But….I’m right! I’M the one who’s right! There is NO! POSSIBLE! ALTERNATIVE!” Thick, black inky substance  comes out of his eyes and ears. 

“Riddle, stop!” Trey’s words can’t pull Riddle out of his madness and likely never will. 

Because all that black ink dripping out of nearly every pore, staining his skin and clothes, pools around him for only a few seconds. Before it engulfs him, swallowing him whole. 

And like a caterpillar metamorphosing into a horrific butterfly…..

…..he comes out a monster.

Like a horrible chrysalis bursting open, Riddle comes out changed. 

His skin is so pallid, the color could have been mistaken for bone. A red flame is positioned over his right eye, glowing an unnatural color. The ink that bleed out of his skin sticks to his arm and face like tar. And most identifiably, he’s dressed like the Queen of Hearts. Sort of, if she was beheaded and her body was thrown in her beloved rose garden to be torn apart by the hedgehogs. (A fitting fate in your eyes)

The tyrant has changed to match his predecessor, both over-controlling monsters. 

But that’s not the most terrifying part of it. 

There’s also the giant hulking beast tethered to Riddle’s back.  And that’s the most defining feature. Because that thing matches your dreams of the Queen of Hearts. The monster is dressed in a dress nearly identical to the one from your second dream. She’s even carrying a rose bush, torn from another world’s ground.

This is not good. And you’re suddenly very afraid of what will happen next.

The possessed? Riddle cackles, “You are fools to defy me! You are not welcome in my world. In my world, I am the law. I am order made manifest!” His voice is warped and distorted as if someone otherworldly is speaking through him.

“The only response I will accept from you is ‘Yes, Dorm Leader Riddle.’ All who defy me will lose their heads! Ah ha ha ha HA!” 

“Dear me, what have I done? I’ve allowed a student to overblot in my presence!” What the fuck is overblot!?

“Crowley? What the HELL is overblot!?” You demand an explanation to this madness, because Riddle is both a monster, and has a massive monster connected to his spine. Seriously, what the shit is this!?!

“Overblot is a dangerous condition that mages must avoid at all costs. At the moment, he is overcome by negative energy and has lost control of his magic and emotions.”

“Okay but what does that mean?!” 

“Please explain!”

“To put it in layman’s terms, he’s in evil berserker mode!”

“If he keeps releasing magical energy, we could be looking at a loss of life here- his included.” 

“WHAT!” You feel your eye twitch, “CROWLEY! WHY DIDN’T YA JUST TELL ME ALL THIS SHIT WHEN I GOT HERE!!” It can’t be that hard, can it? How hard is it to give the unfortunate transfer student from another world or dimension a simple crash-course of ‘hey, here’s some things you should know about our world!’, for crap’s sake. 

“Ms. ____-” 

“Nevermind, Crowley! We’ll deal with the evil giant monster thing now, I’ll freak out later!” And freak out you will. Riddle outed you, overblotted and could kill someone or multiple someones if this shit goes south. Forget punching him, you’re going to beat him so bad that smug arrogant face of his will be unrecognizable when you're done with him.You are fucking tired of this shit already, and when you think it’s bad it just gets worse.

“Yes! The well-being of my students is my top priority. Therefore, I must evacuate them immediately.”

“Y-You’re not staying?”. You say weakly. Was the bar for headmaster requirements in hell? Yes, there is a giant monster/dorm leader attacking the running and hiding Heartslabyul residents but this is a MAGIC school for shit’s sake. “No, but as for Mr.Rosehearts, we must restore his consciousness before his magical energy runs dry.” Damnit Crowley! “For as bad as losing him would be, there are scenarios that are far worse…” WHAT’S WORSE?!?!

“Listen well: I need all of you to seek help from the other housewardens and members of faculty.” But how the hell are going to all evacuate and summon the other housewardens if Riddle is-

While the exposition dump was happening, the beast behind Riddle follows his body movements, and still fueled by all the anger that caused this whole mess to start in the first place, raises the rose bush like a club, prepared to strike down one of the unfortunate Heartslabyul students.

Ace and Deuce finally allowed to use their magic, do what they’ve wanted to do since yesterday. Strike the pretentious dorm leader down.

“HIIYAH! TAKE THAT!” A strong magical gust knocks the beast’s weapon away from its original target. And annoys the furious Riddle. 

“Huh!? Trey, Cater and Crowley look and sound bewildered at the attack, but you feel a rush of pride. 

“I summon thee, cauldron!” Deuce takes advantage of Riddle’s change in focus to strike. With his infamous cauldron spell. Riddle manages to dodge it, but at least he’s not attacking the students any more!

“MYAH!” Grim leaps out of your arms to join the attacks, sending a wave of blue fire along with Ace and Deuce’s own attacks. 

Now even more pissed ( a surprise to be honest) Riddle fumes at their lack of submission. “What do you fools think you’re doing?”

“Um, hello?! 911? We’ve got an idiot emergency!” Cater’s internet talk doesn’t fade in times of high stress.

Grim, acting unlike his usual selfish self, actually points out the most frightening part of this, “You DID hear that part about how reeeal bad things are happenin’ with him, right?!”

“That’s why we need to stop him now! I don’t want that on my conscience!” Yah, Riddle straight up sucks but risking the deaths of others to save yourself from certain death is cowardly, and unlike the rampager, you’re not a hypocrite. 

“And I’m not givin’ up till I hear him say, ‘I was wrong and I’m sorry.’”

You’re convinced, “Yeah, he owes me an apology for the shit he put me through!!”

“All right, let’s do this. I can overwrite his magic for a little longer. In the meantime, do what you can! Headmage, please evacuate the other students!”

“Wait! This is dangerous!”

“Are you S-R-S, Trey? You can’t beat Riddle!”

“So what, you’re not even gonna fight unless you KNOW you can win?”

“Yeah, he’s right. That’s weak.”

“This is the only way we can think of to snap him out of this!”

“Yeah…I don’t want to lose him. There’re too many things I’ve left unsaid.”

“We just have to do this, whatever it takes!” You might not be able to do magic, but you’ll help….somehow. 

“Ugh, I do NOT like or subscribe to this, but fine!”

Ngh…I’ll be back as soon as I’ve gotten the students to safety. Stand firm until then!”

“Such defiance, from every last one of you! I shall take all of your heads!”

“Riddle’s body can’t take much more of this. We need to stop him before it’s too late!”

Things are going…..well enough. 

Because how in every layer of hell can you describe this? At all? It’s not everyday that you watch a magician go into berserker mode and try to kill his ‘underlings’ or really equals he’s un/knowingly been abusing for who knows how long?

Here’s the good news. 

Trey’s magic makes the fight easier for them. Replacing Riddle’s UM makes the battle actually possible. 

Cater’s Spilt Card, makes the perfect distraction ones, that he can use as human shields as Riddle strikes.

Even Ace, Deuce and Grim’s inexperience manages to turn the tide. Wind, cauldrons and fire join a barrage of more sophisticated and more complicated spells of the third-years is the perfect combination of brute strength and complicated strategy. 

But here’s the bad news. 

Riddle’s fast. Very fast. 

For every one spell the others cast, Riddle can cast two. and moves twice as fast to replace every one Trey replaces. Which should be impossible with all of his magical energy and life force being drained away but it seems whether he’s a horrific monster or a tyrannical dictator, he’s still a magical prodigy.

What your friends need is a distraction. And they need one fast. And while you might not have magic, you’re not completely powerless here. 

Why? 

Because Riddle’s earlier pique was kind enough to dislodge plenty of stones that once were the floor of the battle ground. Small and light enough for you to carry. Large and heavy enough to leave a nasty bruise or a nice headache.

All you hope is that you have good aim. Because this better land right in the face. 

Even with the hail of magic sending wind, ice, fire, cauldrons and other magical bursts in Riddle’s direction, you’re safely hidden in the background and the beast attached to him is otherwise preoccupied with the aforementioned magic, so it’s easy to sneak away. 

You wrap your hand around one of the loose stones of the destroyed battlegrounds, and sneak behind the bushes till you’re a good distance away from the others with a broad distance away from him and that monster. “Hey Rosehearts!” You yell.

He turns to you with a death glare that could actually cut off your head. But as soon as his gaze has fallen on you, you throw the stone as hard as you can.

It hits him square in the forehead. 

Riddle doesn’t even have the time to cry out in pain, as he and the phantom monster stumble back, dazed.

“HA! Take that you controlling bastard!” Sure, you’re saving his life in the process, but considering he just outed you, kicking his ass through this is actually one hell of a relief.

Everyone takes advantage of the distraction you made to send another barrage of magic against Riddle. Still dazed from your strike to his head, probably combined with the damage the overblot was taking on his body, he’s much slower. 

So now, every strike lands without fail, and Riddle barely has time to retaliate now. And that changes the tide of the battle. 

With every new strike, the monster’s body starts to distort and parts of its body start to writhe and twist. The darkness glowing underneath starts to distort and warp. The roots holding it to Riddle's body start to sever. The monster’s distorted roars start to soften, turning weaker. 

“Is it over?” You ask. You feel safe enough to go closer, now that the monster’s body starts to sway and collapse. Riddle looks like he’s about to pass out. “Is he going to die?”

“He better not. He still needs to apologize to me!” Ace 

You sigh in relief for half a second. And the blot around Riddle swarms him. 

You don’t know what switched on within you. You hate this guy. You want to see him suffer a little, or more specifically a lot.

“Henchman!” 

So you don’t know why you ran when you did, or why you grabbed Riddle’s wrist like a vice right before his body disappeared into the mess of dark ink. You grabbed on as tight as you can,  just as the monster finally burst. 

Thick ink, scalding hot like Riddle’s burning rage, hits your skin and burns your face. You scream in reflex, and your mouth burns from the hot, bitter ink entering it. You choke on the blot. It burns. It coats you, covers you, drowns you and your vision swims. But your grip doesn’t let up. 

“_____!!!” You hear many voices screaming your name. But you can’t see them. The burning black ink falls like rain, obscuring your friends from view.

All you can feel is that overwhelmingly painful and smothering burn of the ink…but the last thing your senses pick up on before you pass out isn’t the burn on your skin, the bitterness in your mouth, or the voices of your friends.

It’s a voice.

“I…was wrong?! But that’s…impossible…”

A sad, anguished voice. The sad, anguished voice of Riddle Rosehearts.

“Isn’t it….Mother?”

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION #385032: Shape-shifting genitals, mouth-mashing skillsets, who taps out first in the bedroom and the 17 different types of meat this guy eats.

I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A BIG ONE. Thank you everybody for your patience!

The truth of the matter is that I need one dramatic light-source or I will perish. HOWEVER...

Yeah, they seem the type to leave it purposefully ajar for the thrill of it. As well as the excuse to bring hell down upon anyone caught trying to steal a peek.

YES, actually! I've had the concept for a comic or two that's precisely about interactions they've had while younger. Comics take a lot of work, and there's a LOT of things I want to do, but that is definitely in the plans.

Yes! Or rather, as a shapeshifter, I believe she doesn't bother with them 99% of the time, possibly never, even though she has the habitability to form them if she so wished. The Orin DU drow knew was always doll-like in appearance when nude, and he did not particularly mind it or fantasized about anything different.

I believe this is both a preference in Orin's part (and across many shapeshifters, if I recall correctly) as well as a strategic choice.

And thank you so much!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

I don't know, kissing isn't that hard LOL I think they're pretty even-leveled in technique but Astarion is the tonguier one.

ALL IN DUE TIME, MY FRIEND, ALL IN DUE TIME...

Maybe 😊 🤫though I'm not sure how useful his powers would be in that context.

That said, Indeed! The irony of this match isn't lost on anyone. I'm sure Astarion would have some thoughts about the convenience of it.

I know this is more of a jokey message, but I don't think Astarion would be cool with that sort of thing, and DU drow most definitely wouldn't ask 😂

Whatever works, as he would probably say!

Astarion got drunk through DU drow on occasion while he still fed on him, yes LOL I don't care if that makes sense or not, It's a hysterical concept and definitely factual in my canon. To be fair as well, DU drow is a huge man and has to drink a LOT to get properly wasted - so Astarion wouldn't have to consume a whole lot from him to get on a similar level!

Post a few particular post-campaign events, Astarion gets drunk through strangers' blood that were either piss-drunk already or have been fed alcohol forcibly by the pair.

He likes thick stews, braised pork, and meat-pies the most. Don't ask me when or why I've decided this but he likes octupi as a every-once-in-a-while treat - I think he mostly enjoys the experience of eating it more than the taste.

For drinks, he likes beer, red semi-dry wine, and mead the most. He also likes a GOOD whisky - none of the copper-coin garbage they serve at most Inns.

Hi! Incredible question. DU drow can go indefinitely but when he stops he knocks out in record speed. There usually comes a point where Astarion flops over and lets him do all the work.

You know how, shortly after you find out about it, if you tell Astarion that you're frightened of your origins you get that really heartfelt bit of dialogue about how yourself and him are so much alike, and how he feels similarly powerless before Cazador as you do toward your father? Well, I never got that, because DU drow was too busy squinting into the horizon and contemplating the logistics of his conception which prompts Astarion to, essentially, say something along the lines of "Okay, if all you want to do is discuss your dad's cum I'm out"

So, like that.

They didn't smash in the graveyard! I'm hoping to either write a short thing about it, draw something inspired by how the scene went down in my head, or, ideally, both!

That IS kind of a wild comparison but I'm guessing you know about my origins, LOL.

Not... Quite. I'm reluctant to say more because I would like for it to be a surprise that I bring you all through art (even if you can make a pretty accurate deduction based on what has been said so far) but suffice to say that this is the flipside to the Bhaalist DU drow AU.

I don't think I could find the time 😭😭😭 but that's a hysterical idea and I would gladly mash together a bunch of clips if someone else was willing to highlight them!

Hello and thank YOU for humoring me in my nerdy little forays!

I hadn't heard about Model/Actriz but I had a little sneak-peek and, indeed, this might just be right up my alley LOL

It's hard for me to remove these characters from their intended universe so I have a difficult time picturing what they would listen to if the options didn't all sound like string-y bardcore music. I'm sure there are more genres to speak of in DnD lore, I'm just ignorant of them!

That said I do have some thoughts about which of them even enjoy music at all.

REALLY enjoys music: DU drow, Jaheira, Misc, Karlach, Wyll.

Modestly enjoys music: Gale, Shadowheart, Minthara, Halsin.

Generally doesn't enjoy music: Astarion, Lae'zel.

No notes just canonical character information being shared

I forgot what this one was in reference to for a moment and I was so aghast.

I really, really hope you weren't hoping for me to give you work-out advice because both, if you were, you've come to the wrong man.

But if you're just wondering about lore here, I think it's a solid 50/50. I think he's predisposed to a really well-built physique because Daddy Bhaal said so AND he's incredibly active and incidentally does a lot of manual labor. If he's had a few too many sedentary days in a row (which is rare) he pretty much has to tire himself through at-home routines or he goes a little cuckoo-bananas as well.

And thank you for being interested in my little freak!

He's pretty thoroughly desensitized, and thinks far too little of Orcs and half-orcs to be intimidated by them, even when that lack of fear is downright stupid. He's not impervious to fear, however, despite how hard he tries to be - Myrkhul, Grym, the giant Steelwatch, the brain, and even Cazador AFTER he snatched Astarion away were all encounters that made his blood run cold to varying degrees. I think it takes an unfamiliar foe for his sweat to run a little cold.

(Ironically, Raphael had no such effect on him.)

[generalsdiary]

Ratio and Aventurine are Sherlock and Watson coded but not in the way you think. Where one might assume Ratio would be Sherlock because of his intellect and analytic approach to life and the comments he makes, allow me to switch the perspective. Aventurine is an addict. To what? To feeling like shit and endorsing it, to having low self-esteem, to rejecting everyone in a way so no one gets too close and realizes how vulnerable he is, how much he yearns for love. He hid it away so well that he himself isn’t aware anymore of how much he wants it. to be loved, appreciated, and seen as more than just his luck- much like Ratio wants to be seen for more than just his achievements (poor man ain’t aware of how much he wants it either). Aventurine plays this perfect little role of a charismatic, lucky, fun-to-be-around persona. And that’s all it is, a play, a stage act.

let us switch gears back to Sherlock and John. Sherlock is also an addict, depending on at which point in the timeline, it is nicotine, drugs, crime cases, and similar. Here is where the point lies. Who is the one that pulls Sherlock out of that shit, out of the drug den, to hide his cigarettes away? John. We think Sherlock functions fine… before John, sure. After John, after Mary dies; oh no, Sherlock is not well without him. He can barely function, (yes, Mary’s death comes also in account here, but I won’t get sidetracked), living in a mess, doing drugs again, smoking, treating himself like shit and like he is worthless. So, who reminds Sherlock of his worth, of his genius, of the fact that he is human and not just a performance act that he puts on of deducting others? John. Both Sherlock and Aventurine throw these spectacles, these performances, these acts of a grand image, they play it and they dance to the song that others sing, moving to the melody that strangers decide; playing into whatever image that is painted of them no matter how untrue it is, ex. Aventurine will play a gambling alcoholic as much as you wish although he is more than that, and Sherlock will play the killer, the crazy ‘psychopath’ that kidnapped those kids and poisoned them, and he is also more than that. The difference is that Sherlock performs his knowledge and analytic skills, unlike Aventurine who keeps those cards close to his chest- that is how he survives, that is how he survived, his instinct, his trauma making him aware of a lot of things in his surroundings and aware of everyone else; carefully analyzing everyone to ensure his safety. Aventurine is better with his tongue, knowing what to say and when to say it, with much better people skills- that is what got him this far after all; so, he performs with flashy promises, with fun games- gambling with his own life because what is it worth to him anyway anymore? it circles back to his ‘the only survivor trauma’. Sherlock was ready to gamble his own life (S1E1) and who stopped him? John. Well, more like who saved him. The drug addiction that Sherlock has is a bit downplayed and it always ends fast within the episodes, but in its own way, it is also his gamble, him not valuing his life as much as he should.

yes, in a way Ratio and Aventurine can both be Sherlock. But it is not about Sherlock, as much as it is about Watson. And exactly what Watson brings to the table, to their relationship. In the case of Johnlock, Ratio is very much Watson. The one to tell Aventurine his life matters, the one to go along with his plan of deceiving Sunday- because Aventurine had this great plan, a huge gamble. sound familiar? The usual thing about Sherlock with big plans, ex. exposing Mary after getting shot, going to Magnussen’s to sell Mycroft’s PC. And who follows along even when they don’t agree? John.

to take into account Johnlock in the later episodes/at least the second season, when they are closer- we are brought up to speed on where Aventio are. it is a well known fact that Aventio knew each other before the first scene in the hotel of them interacting. So, they have a history, and their period of getting familiar is over. They know each other. we only see John openly criticizing Sherlock later in the series, be it insulting him or calling him out on his bullshit. The same thing happens with Aventio, where Ratio is the one to openly state his thoughts and criticize. While yes, one may argue that that is in Ratio’s character to behave as such, if we recall the scene between Ratio and the MC, he doesn’t behave that way if unprovoked. And Aventurine wasn’t provoking him, hence the conclusion. As much as Ratio seems like the black sheep here, the odd one out (which he is don’t get me wrong), in this perspective it is Aventurine who is that. and yes, Ratio walks on eggshells around him, apologizing for his harsh words. these two aren’t the perfect puzzle pieces for Johnlock, they do differ in the way they walk in public and who leads the way, and of course the point of this isn’t to make them overlap, but to draw parallels. And while writing this, truly a lot of opposing things came to mind, where both couples differ in such vast ways, all four being complex, rich characters- it pained me that Aventurine and Veritas would be compared to Sherlock and John only in the way that the “genius” matched the “genius”. smh.

Now the way Ratio is Sherlock is very simple, he doesn’t consider himself human- more like, doesn’t allow himself to be human, to feel, to connect, to breathe; when he is too much of a human – and the main reason he wasn’t accepted into the genius society. Poor Ratio, cursed because he wants to help and spread knowledge, what a mean fate struck upon the burned out gifted autistic asexual kid. To switch to Sherlock (also very autistic asexual coded), he is the most human out of them all, (I believe Eurus calls him that but I don’t recall the exact quote, also pointed out by Mrs. Hudson, John, and Mycroft), trying to be this analytical machine when his caring bleeds through his skin, evaporating through his pores, his love for John and so many others making him pull himself apart and do anything to protect them, ex. killing Magnussen, giving himself to Smith to a guaranteed death, faking his own suicide to protect Lestrade, John, and Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock who, much like Ratio, wishes to be strict in his way of life, but cannot help wanting to explain and help others, and Ratio here differs by wanting to help everyone improve while Sherlock is willing to help only after the person has shown some amount of will, intelligence, proved themselves in some way (Irene Adler) or he so rarely happened to like them (ex. the kid that was at Mary’s wedding). Although, their shared way of calling others around them idiots is neat. I’d say this is their main connection and outside of it they are extremely different characters, which is why further comparison is pointless and shallow if you just want to compare characters because they are quote on quote the clever one.

Case in point, Aventurine is Sherlock because Ratio is John, and the one that saves him. The one that grounds him, and Aventurine NEEDS him. He needs Veritas. And Sherlock needs John. Therefore, Aventurine isn’t Sherlock without Ratio, much like there is no Sherlock (be it books, movies, or the show) without John. It is more about the relationships between them than the actual characters, and that, honestly, makes it even more beautiful.

[eardefenders]

Sherlock & Co - Mailbag Episode 1 Transcript

00:00-00:30 Intro Music

*Typing Sounds*

0:36 Sherlock: What are you doing?

0:37 John: I’m collating the questions from the fans. Ah-well, d’you know actually they might not be fans. They might just. *pause* I don’t, I don’t know, listen, but, uh, ah, you know not actually, you know-

0:48 Sherlock: -Like you?

0:49 John: What?

0:49 Sherlock: They might not actually like you.

0:51 John: Us. The show. Anything. What do you mean ‘not like me’? Why would they not like me?

0:57 Sherlock: Well…you can come on a little strong…sometimes, I suppose.

1:02 John: In what way?

1:03 Sherlock (voice slightly high): You’re just, rather, keen. (voice normal, reassuring even) Nothing wrong with that of course.

1:07 John (sarcastically): Oh, great, thanks.

1:09 Sherlock: That’s something people add after making a crude observation on another’s character.

1:14 John (warily): What is?

1:14 Sherlock: “Nothing wrong with that of course.”

1:17 John: So you just added it because you thought-

1:19 Sherlock: It would soften the blow.

1:20 John (sarcastic): Lovely. Very kind.

1:23 Sherlock (clearly missing the sarcasm): Quite alright.

1:24 John: Okaaay, we got some Q’s from the L’s, and now its time for us to provide the A’s. That’s, uh, that’s questions from the listeners and for us to provide the answers.

1:36 Sherlock: Yes, I cracked the code, Watson.

1:39 John: Right! So! Beau from California wants to know where they should go when they visit London.

1:44 Sherlock: Er, sorry, uh, I thought this was about crime?

1:47 John: Whaddya mean?

1:48 Sherlock: I thought there would be questions regarding criminal activity?

1:52 John (lightly sarcastic): Oh, right yeah, sorry. Um, there is one here from ‘PsychoMurderer69’ who wants to know if he should stab his next-door neighbor.

1:58 Sherlock (seriously): What’s the length of the blade he’d have access to?

2:00 John: Jesus Christ.

2:00 Sherlock: Does the neighbor show signs of possessing any self-defense skillsets?

2:04 John (interjecting over Sherlock): Alright, no, where should Beau visit in London, please?

2:09 Sherlock: Um, uh, St. Dunstan in the East. Little Venice. Spitalfields. Brick Lane. The Vaults! Neal’s Yard is rather charming as well, I suppose…pleasing colors on display.

2:20 John: Right, great. Colors. See, that wasn’t difficult, was it?

2:23 Sherlock: South Kensington Ice Rink.

2:25 John: Yeah, lovely. I- Sorry, where are you going?

2:26 *Sound of door opening.*

2:27 Sherlock: I just said.

2:27 *Audio Cut - Vaguely outside sounds.*

2:28 John (sounding like he’s struggling to balance): Heeey, folks its, woah, woah, Ja-ah,*sound of skate blades scraping deeply in ice* Jesus, aw, bloody hell, ahahaaah Christ. *sounds of the mic rubbing as he presumably falls down, a sharp intake of pained breath* Ahh.

2:35 Sherlock (sounding at ease): Get up, Watson.

2:36 John: Ah, oh yeah, thanks for the advice. Uh, um, hey folks-*under his breath*ah, God- Sherlock, can get *sounding unsteady on his feet* easily distracted when he’s not w-w-what’d’you call it. Uh. Totally onboard with something. So he wanted to *sounding unsteady again* go ice-ce skating. Uhum *clears throat*, uh there’s a-a rink. Temporary rink open in South Kensington right now so we’re skating- hey-oh, ooo-getting up some speed now. Oh here we go. Ha ha hah! God is this what Canadians feel like? Oy oy! *laughs proudly*

3:10 Sherlock: Very good, Watson. You’ve got the hang of it.

3:11 John: Hahah, yeah well I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m not smashing my ribs into the ice, uh, for the time being. So-woah! Shit!- *clears throat* Right! Another question!

3:21 Sherlock: Go for it.

3:22 John: “What are your favorite hobbies?”

3:24 Sherlock: *with relish* CRIME. Deductions. Observations! Intricate studies that focus my mind. Feeding my hyper fixations, which often stem from crime and the desire to understand it.

3:37 John: …Riiiight. Yeah, I think the listener Sherlo8 in Poland, uh, I think they meant more like, um, you know, I don’t know. Golf?

3:48 Sherlock: Golf? *chuckles* I don’t golf. I live in Baker Street.

3:52 John: No, I-I know, but, um. *deep breath* Right, okay. My hobby is-

3:58 Sherlock (interjects): Podcasting.

3:59 John: Well, no. Uh, that’s my job.

4:00 Sherlock (skeptically): Is it now?

4:01 John: My hobbies. Uh…so I like to play football. I like films and tv. Ummm I’m very partial to a board game. Uhhhh… Oh! Ok! So here’s a confession. I have the flight tracker app. I’m not saying I’m a, a plane spotter, but um… I like to, yeah, just check in with that. Y’know? See what’s overhead? Where it’s come from, where it’s going. Picture the kinda people that uh. *sigh* Oh I don’t know, going from swha-Rome to Mexico City, y’know? Th-th-the weary business men and women tucking into their inflight meals, families that have created a whole crate of memories that they’re going to talk about for decades.

4:42 John (dramatically): The lovesick Italian man flying out to see his Mexican sweetheart. His heart bursting with excitement and fear that the stewards who keep complaining about some bloke in Row G, c-

4:49 Sherlock (interjects): Trains.

4:50 John: Hm?

4:51 Sherlock: Trains. I like trains. And, dinosaurs.

4:56 John: Ok. Great! Well, haha! That’s wonderful! We did it, another answer to another question. See, I told you it’s bloody easy- *sound of an ice blade scraping the ice too hard/wrong, a loud hard thump, the mic is rubbing terribly against clothing, sound is muffled* Oh, God!

5:07 *Audio Cut-Vaguely café sounds*

5:09 John (pained): Ahhh *sucks in air through his teeth* Oh that stings. *sounds like he’s holding his face*

5:15 Sherlock: Yep, they’re loaning us their frozen peas.

5:18 John: Oh what, they’ve got frozen peas in this place? Why aren’t they fresh, meals are twenty quid?

5:21 Sherlock: Uh, do you want the frozen peas or not?

5:23 John: Yeah! Yes, please, give’em here. *sound of a bag of frozen peas being shuffled around, John’s voice is muffled* Oh, yeah. Oh hoho, that’s the stuff, baby. Oh yeah. Ahhhhhhhhh. 5:39 Sherlock: Just to confirm,

5:40 John: Uh hunh?

5:40 Sherlock: they are paying for this? People are…paying for this audio?

5:46 John: Yeah, mate. Oh! Ah God! Ooo! Ouchie, ouchie, ouchie, ouchie…

5:49 Sherlock: Understood. Well, people can be rather odd, can’t they? Nothing wrong with that of course.

5:55 John: Uh, d’you mind? I see- I actually know what you’re doing with that ‘nothing wrong with that’ lark. So, right! Next question, ‘How did Archie get his name?’ says May Van der Hayden in New Zealand. Ah, well mate, I didn’t have much say in the matter. *clicks tongue* Um, I bought him as a birthday present for…uhhhh. M-my ex-girlfriend. Um, e-e-ex…yeah, y’know she was. She was-she was the bi- big one. The one I l-lived with and planned t’m-my life. Around. Sort of thing. Um. *clicks tongue* B-bought him for her, she chose Archie. Um. I-I don’t know why? Ha. And then she chose my friend who had a Range Rover Sport. So, yeah, she left me and the dog. *clicks tongue* And I left the dog to help the Ukrainians. Now I’m back. *clicks tongue* Got a dog and a master detective. Uh, lucky me. *awkward chuckle*

6:55 Sherlock: I feel your answers should be more concise.

6:58 John: Yep, thank you for that input. May also asks, Sherlock, seeing as you have handled cases for other countries, have you ever handled any in New Zealand?

7:07 Sherlock: Yes.

7:08 John: Oh! Lip, lip. Now numb. Ah, ah. Can you expand on that please?

7:13 Sherlock: Yes, but you’d have to stop recording or redact it from the podcast.

7:17 John: Aw, what’d be the point of that?

7:19 *Audio Cut- Sounds like they’re on the tube now*

7:23 John: Question here from Chloe Davies in Canada. Hi, Chloe. Sherlock, your hugging machine, is it based on that of Temple Grandin?

7:31 Sherlock: Er, she sent me some early designs, yes. I needed to tweak its pressure loads to clench my shoulder blades.

7:40 John: That’s the way you like it, is it? Hugwise?

7:43 Sherlock: Yes. Any sensation below the diaphragm causes me to stress.

7:47 John: Good to know. Uh, Nick Licher or, er, Licker. Uh…let’s go with Nick Licher. He asks, “Why did Sherlock need your shoelaces?” Yeah, why did you need my shoelaces?

7:58 Sherlock: I was conducting a thorough cleansing of our garments following the proximity to duck poo we had undergone that day in the park. *sucks in air sharply* The shoes contain the most potentially harmful pathogens. I removed the shoelaces for deep cleaning.

8:11 John: Okay.

8:12 Sherlock: Okay? Is that it? For potentially saving you untold hours and days on the toilet?

8: 19 John: How so?

8:20 Sherlock: E.coli, Watson.

8:22 John: Yeah, but on my shoelaces? Mate, I wasn’t going to chew on them. Right, Adrien Kaiser from Minnesota. “John, if you miss an upload should we just assume you and Sherlock have been arrested or are dead?”

8:32 Sherlock: Yes. As assumptions go, those options would be some of the likeliest. Wouldn’t you agree Watson?

8:39 John: No.

8:40 Sherlock: Why not?

8:40 John: Well, I don’t know. Maybe my laptop breaks, maybe we don’t get an adventure that week, I’m ill, your ill, a long list of things that aren’t dead or arrested, Sherlock.

8:50 Sherlock: It was Adrien that said it, not me.

8:52 John: *heavy sigh* Arlo asks, as a Shakespeare fan-him, not me- he asks what my favorite play by him was. Uhhh, um, I love Romeo and Juliet. Bit of um, a sucker for romance, me. *awkward chuckle* Hamlet’s too long, should’ve streamlined that a little. I’m uh going to go Romeo and Juliet. Or Julius Ceasar. Good drama in that one, I think. Kind of can’t understand what they’re saying, but uh I hold my English teachers at school responsible for that one, I mean also why are we reading them? Yeah, they’re meant to be performed, come on. Uh, next question. Soma asks “what’s your favorite tv show?” Uh, I loved ‘Band of Brothers’. Um, but, of course, an ex soldier would say that wouldn’t he. Um, psh, yeah, ‘Band of Brothers’. Or, something light and millennial, like, um, I don’t know. Fraiser? Or, uh, Will and Grace?

9:46 John: Sherlock? Favorite tv show?

9:48 Sherlock: This is us.

9:48 John: Really? I never saw it.

9:49 Sherlock: No, Watson! This is us! Quick!

9:52 John: Oh, bollocks, Oh! The doors are closing! Ow!

9:53 *Audio cut-sounds of a tube station/outside*

9:54 John: Misha asks,

9:56 Sherlock: Mmhm?

9:57 John: “Do you have a sweet tooth?” Well, I can tell you, Misha, that yes, he bloody does! Sherlock?

10:02 Sherlock: Yes, I bloody do. *awkward chuckle, sharp intake of breath* Yet, my diet is highly unpredictable and more often then not tied to my mood

10:08 John: Yeah, I can vouch for that. One minute he’s slurping down some borscht on a whim. Next minute, he’s going ten straight days eating tomato penne pasta.

10:16 *sound of a building door opening*

10:19 *sound of the door closing, presumably they’re in the foyer of 221 Baker Street*

10:19 John: *sigh* Uhhh, just trying to find uh…

10:23 Sherlock: Yet more questions?

10:23 *sounds like they’re removing their coats*

10:25 John: Yep. Uh, ooo, questions, right, last one. Uh, “Doctor Watson, hope this question doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Do you use a cane for your leg injury? I use a cane myself due to joint pain from Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. In fact, one of the canes was hand painted by a family in Ukraine during the war.” Well aw! *delighted chuckle* Aw that’s nice. Um, no I don’t use a cane. Uh, I had some surgery, and I was very kindly along with a few others flown out to Florida for some rehabilitation and then back to the UK for some hydrotherapy courtesy of the Ministry of Defense. Uh. Then they sacked me. So, heh, booooo. *chuckles* So, no. I’m actually cane free. But, uh, I have had moments. Especially climbing these bloody stairs *sounds of him stepping heavily up stairs* where I’ve wanted something like that.

11:15 Sherlock: Finished?

11:16 John (slightly out of breath): Finished.

11:17 *sound of a door opening, presumably 221B’s*

11:17 John: Right, say ‘Bye, Listeners’.

11:19 Sherlock: ‘Bye, Listeners’. You know, you do have a rather silly gait. *pause* Walking style. *sound of a door closing* The cane may have been needed. You do look weird when you stroll. Nothing wrong with that of course.

11:32 John (under his breath): For God’s sake.

11:33-12:03 *audio cut to end theme. It’s Mad Prodigy but a different part not used in the main show with a bit of piano.*

END

[willowser]

you find pro-hero touya naked on the sidewalk.

face down, ass up, and completely unmoving; it's a little after 5 in the morning, which is maybe why no one has found him or offered him any clothes. or finished him off.

it's nearly december, but all the ice around him has melted into a slick and dangerous sludge, and snowflakes are sizzling when they make contact with his back. skin a tender pink and baby-smooth; another reason you know he's still alive, aside from all the heat he's generating on such a frozen morning.

"hey," you nudge him lightly with the toe of your boot until he grunts and begins to stir. "i don't know how your quirk works, but laying in the cold like this can't be good for you."

some kind of nonsense noise fumbles out of his mouth as he squints up at you, frown etched so deep that it looks like it hurts. it almost feels like he's mega-wasted and is burning off a hangover, but you squat next to him and don't smell alcohol or weed or vomit or even nicotine. just ash, as the early morning wind stings the inside of your nose.

"c'mon man," you scoff when he turns his back to you, like a teenager not ready to get out of bed. "don't make me leave you out here."

pro-hero touya has tattoos everywhere — or at least in his most visible spots, with his costume. piercings, you're not so sure about; the last time you saw his face up close on a big screen, he might have had a vertical bar through his lip and several in his ears, but you vaguely remember a tabloid article about him almost getting his mouth ripped off during a high-speed chase. you know there's something though, a bunch of metal in his face and head.

this touya has nothing. none of it; born fresh right here, in the muck and the ice.

of course the first thing you think is: clone-touya.

some evil ne'er-do-well has obtained pieces of his dna and is trying to create a super weapon to destroy the city, and in a cruel twist of fate, you get to be the one that finds him. responsible, suddenly, for the could-be end of the world. least you can do is offer him your coat.

you try again at nudging him, with the side of your foot this time so as to put more weight into it, and, surprisingly, he complies rather easily, rolling completely over until he's flat on his back. exposed and bare to the elements.

"whoa," you mutter, eyes shooting up to the windows of the department store he's in front of. trying, at least, to offer him the small courtesy. "you're gonna get a public indecency charge at this point."

this is not the first time you've seen pro-hero touya's dick against your will; two years ago, some sex tape he made leaked and your co-worker was so excited to have it in her possession that it had been shoved into your face, sound and all, in the middle of your shift. there had been metal there, too, but this clone-touya is brand spanking new.

only one of his eyes is cracked open, a thin sliver of his icy blues peeking at you through a veil of snow-heavy lashes. something about him sprawled out on the concrete like a sloppy angel makes your heart squeeze, even if you don't particularly care much for him or his heroics.

"alright," you sigh, shrugging out of your coat to drape over his hips. "don't move, i guess."

it's lucky that he's half-alive right outside your job; in the following twenty minutes, you use your key to get back into the building and pick out a simple set of clothes from the men's section that you'll deduct from your paycheck later. when you come out of the back to find him again, he's at least pushed himself up into a sitting position and is coming to against the wall. in his lap, your fluffy jacket is damp and soggy and drooping and now useless.

if someone would have ever told you that one day you'd be here, helping to dress pro-hero touya like a toddler out of the bath, you — don't know what you would have said. laughed, maybe, eyebrows raised, totally lost. you feel much the same now.

a creeping unease has started at the base of your spine at his silence. finally dressed, he simply watches you, hazy, with half-lidded eyes, and you don't know what you're expecting from someone like him, but the cold shoulder is not it. it sucks that he's actually handsome because you didn't think you were the type of person to get caught up in him, but — all his features are sharp, like they've been carved by careful hands.

shorter in person, and, funny enough, that gives you the confidence to poke him in the cheek, like a brat.

"you okay in there?"

pro-hero touya doesn't retaliate to your impishness — which furthers your concern — only swallows and smacks his lips, squinting into the coming day as it dawns.

you take that as a no.

when you loop your arm through his, he lets you, and offers no objection to being led down the sidewalk. he's — warm, which you knew, but winter is sinking through your thin sweater and the plethora of heat rolling off him nearly has you purring. easy to sink in to, to your surprise, more than pliable in this fugue state.

there's a breakfast place not far from the department store and you think maybe he just needs to eat, or something. drink some water. you've been up since late last night with inventory and the thought of a fat stack of syrupy, buttermilk pancakes is motivation enough to hurry him along.

this early, there are very few people out to gawk at him on the street and you're glad for it, because you don't know how you'd explain this to your coworker if you were to end up in some tabloid. the most attention he garners is when you wrench open the doors to the cafe, and even then, the overtired, middle-aged woman just chews her gum and gestures to a table at the back.

when she brings water, you order a breakfast plate for him and yourself, and the first thing clone-touya says to you, after she's gone, is:

"i don't like pork."

you try not to make a big deal about him finally joining you in the physical world, settling for a shrug. "then don't eat it."

he snorts, still a little disjointed as he stares at the fading pattern of your table. you watch him take it all in: the salt and pepper shakers, the napkin container, the dead flies in the window pane, his tall, sweating glass.

all at once, he drinks it down so fast that some of it slips from the corners of his lips and down his chin, and when he wipes a limp hand across his mouth, you just scoot your glass across to him. and he does it all over again.

despite the weather, he wets a hand to run over his face. "what day is it?"

"thursday."

for some reason, he laughs once. huffy and short, scratchy. with a shake of his head, he turns towards the window, leaning into it like he needs to remember where he's at.

you don't think he is, but you still ask: "y'okay?"

his eyes cut to you, alive, and he considers you for a long moment. "you know who i am?"

you shrug, unable to tell if he's asking because he doesn't know, or if this is some kind of intimidation tactic. "think so." and then when he doesn't respond immediately, you tack on: "don't look right, though."

it makes him laugh, sharp and sudden. "yeah, right?" he shoves up his sleeves to trace the bare skin of his arms, rubbing his thumb over his wrist before making crescents with his nails. clone-touya goes silent again, and he doesn't look up until the food arrives.

before he can complain, you snatch the pork sausage off his plate and the quick action brings him back to the physical world again. back to the table and back to you.

he smiles like a ghost, mouth haunted on the pale, untouched skin of his face. "i have to work really hard at keeping my temperature regulated, or else my quirk will just—" he shrugs before downing another glass of water. when he finishes, he wipes a hand over his mouth, sloppy, and then takes an over-large bite of his pancakes. "eat me up."

you — don't really know what to say. this isn't a conversation topic you ever expected to have with him, not that you ever could have expected one to begin with, but you think he might just be — talking. to you, sure, but not to be polite.

"and if i just keep going and going and going," he speaks with food in his cheeks, and you're a little surprised at how bad his table manners are. but maybe he's just really hungry. "it'll just incinerate me into nothing."

so casually he says it, eyes far out the window, trained on the day as it wakes. you want to say that your clone theory is really coming together — how could he know all that, if he didn't actually incinerate himself into nothing? — but you take in his inkless arms and unpunctured nose and your stomach twists.

"so...then what?" when you speak up, his eyes cut across the table again, expression unchanged. his answer is a lazy gesture to himself with his fork. "you just...come back?"

"good news is," he laughs, insincere, "if i get a tattoo and hate it, i can just start all over again."

you don't know how to feel about that — well, you do, but you think your pity will only annoy him, so you say, "sounds like a waste of money."

clone-touya shrugs and you can see the food get caught in his throat, too large of a bite that has him stealing your water again. "got enough of it."

“your time, then?”

he doesn’t bother to look at you, as he shake his head; it feels rude, like some sort of dismissal. “what’s that fuckin’ matter?”

“okay,” you grit your teeth as he chews on your ice, and try to remember your own manners. maybe he’s grouchy because he just woke up from some kind of ash-nap. “what are you gaining from it?”

and that — has his jaw stilling, nostrils flaring as he finally, finally takes you in. whatever he finds in your face isn’t enough, and you’re reminded, again, that you really aren’t a big fan of this guy. he leans close as he whispers, “you wouldn’t get it.”

and you lean in just as close. “so explain it to me then.”

against the nearly empty plate, his cutlery sings when he drops it, suddenly. with food still stuffed into one side of his cheeks, he sits back in the booth and crosses his arms. childishly, you feel like you’ve won something, and your smile makes his eyes narrow.

“and who are you, anyway? some civilian?” clone-touya — or real, angry touya; you’re not sure anymore — doesn’t bother to keep his voice down, not even when the only other table in the cafe turns to look at him. “y’wanna know what it’s like to be daddy’s prized possession? fine. how much time you got?”

you shrug, crossing your arms as you lean into the table. hugging yourself, making yourself warm against the frost outside, and in his eyes. “what’s that matter?”

[bugs1nmybrain]

L Lawliet x Reader: First Time Headcanons (18+ NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW, gender ambiguous Y/N, L is a virgin, reader is either a virgin or at the least unexperienced, awkward sex, L is a top 

Minors don’t interact!

Your first time is awkward to say the least

The initiation goes either one of two ways:

If initiated by you, L will look at you like you have four heads when you propose the idea to him. He’s not upset, he just feels unprepared for something like this. He agrees pretty quick though, curious and even a little excited to try it out with you

If L initiates it, it will probably be the same effect on the opposite end. He brings it up at the most random time and is blunt about it

“Y/N, would you be interested in engaging in sexual intimacy with me?”

The delivery isn’t sexy in the slightest and is very unexpected

You two of you don’t know what on earth you’re doing

L did a little bit of research about how to please you, but research doesn’t substitute actual skill

You’d figure with L being a genius or whatever, that he’d have some idea as to what to do, but he’s lost

You don’t really know what you’re doing either

When you show him your exposed body, his cock twitches violently. He’s never seen someone naked in front of him physically

As you could imagine, he’s pretty frail underneath his clothes. He does have pubes, but he’s not hairy otherwise. 

His cock is pale with a flush of pink around his tip. Average length. Not really veiny, and kind of slender. 

Despite L being a rather deadpan and confident person most of the time, this is one of the only times you’ll see him nervous

He actually gets a little bit shaky and shy!

You have to show him how to touch you. Lucky for you, he’s a quick learner (and surprisingly very good with his fingers)

When you get to the main event, you’re both so timid

L is for once out of his iconic crouching position which makes him much more anxious. How is he going to please you if his deductive skills drop by 40%???

Don’t feel like you have to spare his feelings, he won’t get offended if you tell him you don’t like something. Communication is key.

He tries to focus on kissing because it’s something he learned how to do earlier in your relationship and it’s the one thing he knows he can do well

The pace is slow. He’s too cautious to go any faster. You’ll have to encourage him to pick the speed up

The feeling of intercourse is foreign to you and him. But your insides feel so so much better than he thought they would 

He’s a lot more vocal than you expected. In fact, he’s a little whiny when it’s feeling particularly good for him

Please touch his hair or kiss his neck

Hate to break it to you, but L will cum prematurely for your first time. The sensations are so new to him and the pleasure is overwhelming. He can’t help it

After the act, he’ll converse with you about how the experience was for him and will ask how it was for you. He’ll ask for advice on how to do better next time

His curiosity has peaked. Now he wants to try different sex acts with you and test out all kinds of methods.

If you’re lucky, he might nap with you afterward if he hasn’t slept in a while

[nerdcousin]

I love DC, fanon especially, but if I see one more fic about Clark figuring out Bruce’s identity because he recognises his heartbeat I will start a riot becAUSE HEARTBEATS AREN’T FUCKING PERSONALISED!!!

The only variation in heartbeats from person to person, baring heart rhythm disorders, is speed, which also depends on what the person in question is doing. They’re not fingerprints.

If you want Clark to figure it out, let him use literally anything else. His voice, his eyes, his smell, hell, you could use finger prints. A mannerism. Let Bruce come out and reveal his identity.

If you really like the heartbeat thing, have Clark notice that his heartbeat is unusually calm, and then get suspicious from there and start noticing other things. Or have him be focusing on Batman’s heartbeat (make up your own reason for that) and then bump into Bruce, only to realise that this is the heartbeat he’s been listening to.

You could have Clark actually use his deduction skills, because even though he’s usually the bran of his operation, he’s still really fucking smart. Have him uncover purchases or donations that Bruce made. Have him notice that Bruce isn’t actually drunk, because Clark should be able to smell the alcohol in his glass, and come to the conclusion that Bruce uses his persona to hide something.

The rhythm of heartbeats are not individual. Please stop, I am begging.

[mimisempai]

Clear-cut

Summary

Greg is in hospital and injured. When Mycroft finds him, he tries to play down the seriousness of his injuries, but Mycroft has had enough and wants the unvarnished truth.

Notes

Mystrade Monday  3.0  #10 - Character A likes to include half-truths and tall-tales in their stories and Character B likes to keep track of them. (I deviated a little from it) 

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On AO3

804 words - Rating G

"Greg! What the hell happened?"

The doctor who had just finished treating Greg turned to Mycroft and said, "Sir, you shouldn't be here..." 

Greg replied to Mycroft, "I'm fine."

Mycroft frowned and Greg sighed before insisting, "It's just a few scratches."

He folded his shirt sleeve over the bandage the doctor had just applied to his arm. 

"Monsieur Lestrade, we were this close to transfusing you, so don't minimize your injuries."

"And perhaps I didn't want my partner to worry!" 

Then, seeing Mycroft's exasperated expression, he added, "I certainly didn't mean to tell him like that."

Mycroft came and stood by the bed as he replied, "You would have minimized it even more. You'd probably only have told me half the story. I know how you are. Although I usually like to decipher your tall tales, this time it's not the case. This is serious, Greg."

Greg struggled to keep his eyes open and whispered, "But I swear I'm fine."

The doctor interjected, "I'd rather keep you overnight. "

Mycroft, knowing Greg would protest, intervened, "I'll take him home. I promise to keep an eye on him, Doctor."

Greg grimaced. They'd planned a dinner and now he'd ruined it.

"I'm sorry."

Mycroft took his hand and squeezed it gently into his own.

"Don't be. It won't be at the restaurant, but we'll spend the evening together anyway." 

Then he turned to the doctor and asked, "Is there anything I should be aware of?"

"Just keep an eye on him for the next 24 hours. Even if the wound isn't as deep as we first thought, it's still a total of sixty stitches in three different places."

Halfsmiling, Greg replied, "You should have seen the look of my opponent".

"Your opponent?!" 

Greg replied sheepishly, "The glass door to my sister's balcony."

"Greg..."

"I couldn't help it, she had cleaned it too well, I didn't see that it was closed and ran into it at full speed. Apparently there was already a crack and it literally exploded from the shock."

Feeling exhaustion wash over him, Greg added with a sigh, "Can we go home now? "

The doctor took pity on him and nodded.

Greg sighed in relief.

Mycroft asked gently, "Can you walk?" 

Greg grimaced and replied, "With help I should be fine."

Thirty minutes later, supported by Mycroft, Greg made his way as best he could through the door of their apartment.

His lover helped him make himself comfortable on the sofa before sitting down beside him, a worried expression on his face. 

Greg put his hand on Mycroft's knee and said quietly, "I assure you, I'm all right."

Mycroft wrapped his arm gently around Greg's shoulders and held him close before asking quietly, "Why didn't you want me to know? "

Greg dropped his head against Mycroft's chest and replied, "It's not that I didn't want to, but I wanted to tell you so that you wouldn't worry as much as you do now."

Mycroft harrrumpha, "Idiot, I'll always worry, and probably more if you don't tell me things as they are. No secrets, no half-truths, just the facts."

Greg nodded as Mycroft continued, "With you, when it comes to your well-being, your mental or physical health, I don't want to have to use my insight or deductive skills, I'd rather you told me plain and simple."

Greg nodded again, and after a few moments he muttered, "Mycroft."

"Hm?"

"It really hurts. I could use a painkiller."

Mycroft pressed a kiss to his lover's hair and replied, "I'll get you what you need right away."

He gently positioned Greg on the sofa, elevated his injured arm with a pillow, then went to get what his lover needed. He returned a few moments later with a pill and a glass of water, which he handed to Greg. When Greg had swallowed the pill and drunk the glass, Mycroft asked him gently, "Is there anything else you need?"

Greg nodded and replied, "Just one thing."

"Tell me, love?"

"That you take me in your arms."

Mycroft chuckled softly before sitting down next to Greg and wrapping his arms around him, holding him to his chest while being careful with his injured arm.

He planted a kiss on Greg's forehead and asked, "Is everything all right?"

Greg replied, "It's not the best I've ever been, but you're making it better."

He pressed a kiss to Mycroft's chest and added, "And that's not a half-truth."

Mycroft laughed lightly and tightened his arm around his lover, saying softly, "Try to get some sleep. I'll be here if you need anything."

Greg yawned and grumbled, "'kay..."

The backlash and the painkiller soon got the better of him and he fell fast asleep in Mycroft's arms. As for Mycroft, he didn't sleep and watched over his lover's sleep until he woke up again.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade mondays 3.0 : here

Mystrade masterlist here

[brucewaynehater101]

Santa AU

Gun batman is unhinged and doesn't notice he lost his gift, his own deductive skills have degraded significantly but he's too arrogant to really realize, none of that group realize because they're so caught up in their own heads and trauma

Tim's ability to realize what someone wants most isn't just a matter of looking at the person and having it pop up in his head, he needs their name and has to actively want to know what the person wants, otherwise it would be too obvious and too overwhelming, and once he thinks of what the other person wants, his own deductive abilities fill in why whatever thing is definitely the answer

kon doesn't know why some people give him rancid vibes, which is why he points them out to Tim, he gives his bird enrichment and he starts to trust his own judgement a bit more so it's a win-win all around and kon does eventually start to figure out who he can trust without the vibe knack as he gets more experience with people, the knack just makes things easier

Cassie, again, is pretty sure her sudden talent with languages is because zeus and zeus is a jerk who is totally fine with stealing someone else's credit

Bart hasn't really ever kept track of how much he eats at any given time, he can make a general estimate if needed, but that he needs to eat less sometimes hasn't really registered, and no speedster is going to race another for no reason since no one wants to risk falling into the speedforce or whatever because they were curious about who's the fastest so no one knows Bart got an extra edge in speed

People being naturally inclined to trust Greta only works as long as Greta doesn't do something that would hurt that trust in her and since she's basically a decent person, she's good

Cissie figures that blonde girls are a dime a dozen and that's why people don't spot her and she needs to work harder to stand out in acting if that's the case but she's fine with that, she's always worked hard anyway

Anita doesn't realize her illusions that make people happy have some extra oomph and she doesn't actually like gingerbread enough to make it very often.

Slobo is super strong already, being able to pack away more things and balance them on one another isn't something he thinks to do very often or need to do very often so it goes unremarked

The gifts santa gave them are powerful but subtle, little things to give them an extra edge but nothing they'll rely on like a crutch, but things that'll definitely help them make their delivery to apocalypse and survive to do it again the next year

I like how subtle the gifts are and how personally they fit. They aren't overt, and thus nothing that would become something they rely on. It makes sense that Gun Batman wouldn't have the gift, nor would anyone on his side.

Kon giving Tim cases is exactly the same as giving a bird enrichment. That's a perfect description of it ^^

Kon's morphing into him just eventually knowing without needing the power is fantastic. It probably still works, but he's got the initial step down.

The others not realizing why they have their powers on explained well. I probably wouldn't notice being able to pack things away well or the gingerbread houses (I haven't made any in years).

[ridenwithbiden]

The Allopathic Complex and Its Consequences

luigi mangione's last words

LM

Dec 09, 2024

The second amendment means I am my own chief executive and commander in chief of my own military. I authorize my own act of self-defense in response to a hostile entity making war on me and my family.

Nelson Mandela says no form of viooence can be excused. Camus says it’s all the same, whether you live or die or have a cup of coffee. MLK says violence never brings permanent peace. Gandhi says that non-violence is the mightiest power available to mankind.

That’s who they tell you are heroes. That’s who our revolutionaries are.

Yet is that not capitalistic? Non-violence keeps the system working at full speed ahead.

What did it get us. Look in the mirror.

They want us to be non-violent, so that they can grow fat off the blood they take from us.

The only way out is through. Not all of us will make it. Each of us is our own chief executive. You have to decide what you will tolerate.

In Gladiator 1 Maximus cuts into the military tattoo that identifies him as part of the roman legion. His friend asks “Is that the sign of your god?” As Maximus carves deeper into his own flesh, as his own blood drips down his skin, Maximus smiles and nods yes. The tattoo represents the emperor, who is god. The god emperor has made himself part of Maximus’s own flesh. The only way to destroy the emperor is to destroy himself. Maximus smiles through the pain because he knows it is worth it.

These might be my last words. I don’t know when they will come for me. I will resist them at any cost. That’s why I smile through the pain.

They diagnosed my mother with severe neuropathy when she was forty-one years old. She said it started ten years before that with burning sensations in her feet and occasional sharp stabbing pains. At first the pain would last a few moments, then fade to tingling, then numbness, then fade to nothing a few days later.

The first time the pain came she ignored it. Then it came a couple times a year and she ignored it. Then every couple months. Then a couple times a month. Then a couple times a week. At that point by the time the tingling faded to numbness, the pain would start, and the discomfort was constant. At that point even going from the couch to the kitchen to make her own lunch became a major endeavor

She started with ibuprofen, until the stomach aches and acid reflux made her switch to acetaminophen. Then the headaches and barely sleeping made her switch back to ibuprofen.

The first doctor said it was psychosomatic. Nothing was wrong. She needed to relax, destress, sleep more.

The second doctor said it was a compressed nerve in her spine. She needed back surgery. It would cost $180,000. Recovery would be six months minimum before walking again. Twelve months for full potential recovery, and she would never lift more than ten pounds of weight again.

The third doctor performed a Nerve Conduction Study, Electromyography, MRI, and blood tests. Each test cost $800 to $1200. She hit the $6000 deductible of her UnitedHealthcare plan in October. Then the doctor went on vacation, and my mother wasn’t able to resume tests until January when her deductible reset.

The tests showed severe neuropathy. The $180,000 surgery would have had no effect.

They prescribed opioids for the pain. At first the pain relief was worth the price of constant mental fog and constipation. She didn’t tell me about that until later. All I remember is we took a trip for the first time in years, when she drove me to Monterey to go to the aquarium. I saw an otter in real life, swimming on its back. We left at 7am and listened to Green Day on the four-hour car ride. Over time, the opioids stopped working. They made her MORE sensitive to pain, and she felt withdrawal symptoms after just two or three hours.

Then gabapentin. By now the pain was so bad she couldn’t exercise, which compounded the weight gain from the slowed metabolic rate and hormonal shifts. And it barely helped the pain, and made her so fatigued she would go an entire day without getting out of bed.

Then Corticosteroids. Which didn’t even work.

The pain was so bad I would hear my mother wake up in the night screaming in pain. I would run into her room, asking if she’s OK. Eventually I stopped getting up. She’d yell out anguished shrieks of wordless pain or the word “fuck” stretched and distended to its limits. I’d turn over and go back to sleep.

All of this while they bled us dry with follow-up appointment after follow-up appointment, specialist consultations, and more imagine scans. Each appointment was promised to be fully covered, until the insurance claims were delayed and denied. Allopathic medicine did nothing to help my mother’s suffering. Yet it is the foundation of our entire society.

My mother told me that on a good day the nerve pain was like her legs were immersed in ice water. On a bad day it felt like her legs were clamped in a machine shop vice, screwed down to where the cranks stopped turning, then crushed further until her ankle bones sprintered and cracked to accommodate the tightening clamp. She had more bad days than good.

My mother crawled to the bathroom on her hands and knees. I slept in the living room to create more distance from her cries in the night. I still woke up, and still went back to sleep.

Back then I thought there was nothing I could do.

The high copays made consistent treatment impossible. New treatments were denied as “not medically necessary.” Old treatments didn’t work, and still put us out for thousands of dollars.

UnitedHealthcare limited specialist consultations to twice a year.

Then they refused to cover advanced imaging, which the specialists required for an appointment.

Prior authorizations took weeks, then months.

UnitedHealthcare constantly changed their claim filing procedure. They said my mother’s doctor needed to fax his notes. Then UnitedHealthcare said they did not save faxed patient correspondence, and required a hardcopy of the doctor’s typed notes to be mailed. Then they said they never received the notes. They were unable to approve the claim until they had received and filed the notes.

They promised coverage, and broke their word to my mother.

With every delay, my anger surged. With every denial, I wanted to throw the doctor through the glass wall of their hospital waiting room.

But it wasn’t them. It wasn’t the doctors, the receptionists, administrators, pharmacists, imaging technicians, or anyone we ever met. It was UnitedHealthcare.

People are dying. Evil has become institutionalized. Corporations make billions of dollars off the pain, suffering, death, and anguished cries in the night of millions of Americans.

We entered into an agreement for healthcare with a legally binding contract that promised care commensurate with our insurance payments and medical needs. Then UnitedHealthcare changes the rules to suit their own profits. They think they make the rules, and think that because it’s legal that no one can punish them.

They think there’s no one out there who will stop them.

Now my own chronic back pain wakes me in the night, screaming in pain. I sought out another type of healing that showed me the real antidote to what ails us.

I bide my time, saving the last of my strength to strike my final blows. All extractors must be forced to swallow the bitter pain they deal out to millions.

As our own chief executives, it’s our obligation to make our own lives better. First and foremost, we must seek to improve our own circumstances and defend ourselves. As we do so, our actions have ripple effects that can improve the lives of others.

Rules exist between two individuals, in a network that covers the entire earth. Some of these rules are written down. Some of these rules emerge from natural respect between two individuals. Some of these rules are defined in physical laws, like the properties of gravity, magnetism or the potential energy stored in the chemical bonds of potassium nitrate.

No single document better encapsulates the belief that all people are equal in fundamental worth and moral status and the frameworks for fostering collective well-being than the US constitution.

Writing a rule down makes it into a law. I don’t give a fuck about the law. Law means nothing. What does matter is following the guidance of our own logic and what we learn from those before us to maximize our own well-being, which will then maximize the well-being of our loved ones and community.

That’s where UnitedHealthcare went wrong. They violated their contract with my mother, with me, and tens of millions of other Americans. This threat to my own health, my family’s health, and the health of our country’s people requires me to respond with an act of war.

END

(posted without comment)

[artstar1997]

It’s finally here, the main members of the Justice Brigade, the world’s greatest superhero league that the world has ever seen.

Separately, these nine heroes from Trollstopia, which is composed of the Tenacious Three (Rose as Captain Sterling, Poppy as Rainbow Girl, and Branch as Psionyx), Jussy a.k.a Healer Charm, Emi as Zealous, Synth as Neptune, Demo as Ironsides, Smidge as Miss Aquila, and Milton Moss as Wildlife Man. They are known to be the greatest fighters for truth and justice the world has ever known. Collectively, however, they are a force of nature, leaders of a team of superheroes and associates of numerous crime-fighting organizations—the Justice Brigade. They are the earth’s first line of defense against threats too large for humanity to face alone.

Let’s meet the superheroes of this team: Captain Sterling Real Name: Rosita ”Rose” Barbara V. Madrigal Inspiration: Superman Base of Operation: Trollstopia, California Occupation: Singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, Lead Singer of the Snack Pack Superpowers: Invulnerability, Flight, Super Strength, Super Speed, Heat Vision (including Solar Flare), Super Hearing, Siper Vision (including X-Ray vision, Microscopic Vision, and Telescopic Vision, in which, overuse can cause headaches), Super Breath (including Ice Breath), Accelerated Healing, Energy Absorption, Partial Alien Physiology Archnemesis: Chaz a.k.a The Illusionist Among the superheroes of Trollstopia, no one is as versatile and honorable as Captain Sterling. After being exposed to the strange radiation, Rose gains Herculean powers for protecting her friends, the Snack Pack when the disaster hits the city but at the cost of her own safety. Over time, her martial arts and combat training paid off as she started to train as a sidekick to Silver Sentry, Trollstopia’s resident superhero before she debuted as an independent hero as Super Sterling. The Fabuloid mistakenly replaced Super with Captain on the headlines, so Rose chose to use the name, Captain Sterling instead. Popstar diva by day, superhero by night, the Snack Pack’s resident diva wins the hearts of fans and the world with her voice and musical talents but when crime strikes, Rose’s platinum blonde hair turns to black as she slicks back her bangs and styled into a long French braid, and dons the pinkish red armor, blue, and white with gold ensemble to save the day.

Rainbow Girl Real Name: Penelope “Poppy” Solena C. Monteiro Inspiration: Karolina Dean, Dazzler Base of Operation: Trollstopia, California Occupation: Singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, Lead Guitarist and vocalist of the Snack Pack, Pop Diner owner Superpowers: Flight, Sound Generation, Light Generation, Iriskinesis via Lumokinesis and Chromakinesis, Chromo-Egrokinesis Archnemesis: Pacifica “Pushy Poppy” Payne a.k.a Drab Grey Poppy and her friends were protected by Rose when a doomsday device, the Darkness Engine exploded into the lawn near the playground, causing radiation to spread in the city. Because of Rose’s selfless act, the Snack Pack was spared from the side effects but they were partially exposed to the radiation and they each gained superpowers. Poppy as Rainbow Girl can control light and sound. She wanted to make the city a colorful place by protecting it against crime and injustice.

Psionyx Real Name: Bernardo “Branch” Huitzilopochtli Rivera Inspiration: Batman, Phoenix Base of Operation: Trollstopia, California Occupation: Singer-songwriter, Bassist and vocalist of the Snack Pack Superpowers: Telepathy, Telekinesis, Psychic Powers, Brilliant Deductive Skill, Combat Strategy Archnemesis: Creek a.k.a Monkshood Resident loner, now second-in-command of the Snack Pack, Bernardo a.k.a Branch tends to keep things to himself, especially after a series of misfortunes fell upon him. It was hinted that he got his psychic powers as a baby but they were later enhanced when he was exposed to the radiation that struck Trollstopia. Donning a dark suit, Psionyx is ready to find out whodunit using both his psychic powers and detective skills while blending in with the shadows.

Healer Charm Real Name: Justina “Jussy” Butterfly Inspiration: Green Lantern Base of Operation: Trollstopia, California Occupation: Singer, Keytarist of the Majesties, Pop Diner employee Superpowers: Healing, Energy Conduit, Force Field, Energy Construct Creations, Superhuman Condition, Environmental Playback, Invisibility and Light Refraction Archnemesis: Melisha Indevor a.k.a Feral Ever since she moved to California from U.K., Jussy lived a normal life, working in the Pop Diner, hanging out with the Snack Pack, and dating Cooper. Whenever she goes to work from her apartment, she sees the superheroes flying around to stop crime and whenever she works at the cash register, she would daydream and make a wish that one day, she’d fly with them and save the day. One night, her wish was granted when a meteor fell from space while she was walking on her way home. She followed the meteor to the park, where it crashed and broke in two, revealing a large butterfly shaped jadeite with smaller jadeites and crystals, wrapped in a strange fabric inside. As soon as she picked up the stone and the fabric, a powerful energy surge flowed into Jussy, thus gaining the power of flight, superhuman condition, energy manipulation, and healing. She then turned to Satin and Chenille, who were not only fashion designers by day and superheroes by night, they also created suits and other items for their fellow superheroes with the help of Rhythm and Blues. The two pairs of sisters analyzed the fabric that came with the jadeites and crystals and were able to replicate it, thus created her signature outfit and mask. She took on a debut as a superhero, Healer Charm and started fighting crime, which caught the attention of Cooper’s superhero ego, Jester and became an item in both their civilian and superhero lives. Soon, she was recruited by Rainbow Girl, who offered her a spot in the Justice Brigade, which she excitedly joined as a founding member.

Zealous Real Name: Emi Inspiration: Quicksilver Base of Operation: Trollstopia, California, formerly Volcano Rock City Occupation: Singer, Bassist of the Majesties Superpowers: Vast Superhuman Speed, Stamina, Reaction and Reflexes, Eidetic Memory, Rapid Healing, Creation of High Winds and Tornadoes, Time Manipulation, Speed Physiology, Molecular Destabilization, Superhuman Stamina/Endurace, Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Durability Archnemesis: N/A Even though she got lost as a toddler and was adopted by loving parents who live in Volcano Rock City, Emi is often lazy but fidgety. In a school trip to a laboratory, where they perform experiments to reengineer the human genome for its own better. At that time, she knocked back into a large glass tube containing a fluid that encompassed her. In the meantime, the desk that knocked down toppled forward. The chemicals from the test tubes fell and shattered to the ground. Mixing and causing a combustion within the office. Trapped inside the vat that fell over her, Emi was safe from the fire but her body itself, her muscles and body alone was being chemically reconstructed. A group of rescuers had rushed into the office at the time to try and save her from the flames but two of them sadly lost their lives due to the chemicals having caused a poisonous gas to rise to the ceiling. Emi was rescued and hospitalized alongside some classmates of hers, who also got superpowers as well. Her parents helped her get over her mutation while going through her normal life until she learned about her biological mother. As she started her journey, she discovered her ability to run super fast that she finally reunited with her mother and met her two half-siblings. A mysterious stranger called Montgomery James was pulling the strings from behind to traumatize her. One of the resident superheroes of Vibe City, Darnell Jackson a.k.a Forecast helped her overcome her trauma and she coincidentally met Rose a.k.a Captain Sterling and Jester, who turned out to be Cooper Jackson, Darnell’s twin when they came to Vibe City to help him investigate a crime that is happening. Together, they fought Montgomery James, who became a supervillain, and threw him to prison. In gratitude, Captain Sterling made an offer to Zealous to become a founding member of the Justice Brigade, which she agreed.

Neptune Real Name: Antonio “Synth” Delgado Inspiration: Aquaman Base of Operation: Trollstopia, California, formerly Techno Reef Occupation: Singer-songwriter, DJ Superpowers: Superhuman Strength, Intelligence, Durability, Endurance, Speed, Agility, and Senses, Telepathic Control of all Aquatic Life, Weather Manipulation and Electricity Manipulation, Hydrokinesis, Liquid Absorption, Magic, Aquatic Adaptation, Master Strategist, Tactician, and Field Commander, Skiller Martial Artist and Hand-To-Hand Combat Archnemesis: The Trench Pirates Antonio “Synth” Delgado lived all his life at Techno Reef with his family but his life changed when he got poisoned by a cone snail. In an attempt to save him, he was treated with an experimental medicine that not only saved his life, but also gave him his amphibious abilities and aquatic powers. To learn how to control his powers, Synth became Trollex a.k.a Maelstrom’s sidekick before he made his debut as a superhero and he relocated to Trollstopia to join Trollstopia Records. He was rejected when he tried to join Guy Diamond and Meadow Sprigg’s team but he joined the Justice Brigade as a founding member when Rose as Captain Sterling, Poppy as Rainbow Girl, and Branch as Psionyx offered him to join their superhero team as a founding member.

Ironsides  Real Name: Damien “Demo” Sankara  Inspiration: Cyborg, Iron Man Base of Operation: Trollstopia, California, formerly Volcano Rock City Occupation: Guitarist and Manager of Ryuuko Superpowers: Genius-level intellect, via power suit; Superhuman Strength, Stamina, Durability, and Speed, Advanced Sensor and Weapons System, Flight, Computer Interfacing, Nano-regeneration, Shapeshifting, Portal Creation Archnemesis: N/A Coming off as more soft in comparison to his peers, especially Val, Damien “Demo” Sankara tries to find his place among them. Whenever he isn’t in school, Demo would work in his family garage, where he would make robots and drones for his friends or practice his guitar playing. His actual project is a robotic power suit, which he wanted to test out someday but it had some flaws to fix so he would pass the time with managing and playing with Val and her band, Ryuuko while trying to fix his high-tech suit. When he moved to Trollstopia with Val’s band, he was able to work more on fixing his suit while managing and playing with Ryuuko. With Lownote Jones’s help, he was able to fix his suit and become one of the superheroes, Ironsides. After being rejected when trying to join the Sylvan Guardians, Rose as Captain Sterling, Poppy as Rainbow Girl, and Branch as Psionyx chose him to join their superhero team, which he accepted. 

Miss Aquila Real Name: Samantha “Smidge” Redfeather Inspiration: Hawkgirl, Dawnstar Base of Operation: Trollstopia, California Occupation: Singer-songwriter, Drummer of the Snack Pack Superpowers: High Speed Flight via feather wings, Superhuman Hearing, Vision, Strength, Senses, Durability and Stamina, Healing Factor, Highly Skilled Armed & Unarmed Combatant, Zoolingualism, Utilizes Weaponry, Temperature Regulation, Absolute Sight, Solar Manipulation Archnemesis: Bash a.k.a Gila Monster As the muscle and drummer of the Snack Pack, Smidge is always up and running, being tough, often resorting to the most violent methods first, and overreacts with anger and excitement, making her emotionally expressive and loud, though most of the time doesn't behave like this. It was enhanced by her superhuman condition, which came first when she was exposed to the radiation with her friends, even though Rose sacrificed herself to protect them. Before she and the Snack Pack became famous and they joined the same record label as their labelmates, Smidge noticed that she had a secondary mutation that gave her solar powers, temperature regulation, zoolingualism, and a pair of bald eagle wings, which capable of folding tightly against the spine (like an "accordion") and can be almost completely hidden. Donning an eagle-themed costume and painting a yellow mask on her face, Smidge becomes Miss Aquila and is dedicated to fighting crime from the skies while living her civilian life as a music celebrity. She tried out in Guy Diamond and Meadow Sprigg’s team but her rejection from the audition soon paved way for her to become a founding member of the Justice Brigade. 

Wildlife Man Real Name: Milton Moss Inspiration: Beast Boy, Animal Man Base of Operation: Trollstopia, California Occupation: Veterinarian Superpowers: Animal Morphing, Accelerated Healing Factor, Zoolingualism Archnemesis: N/A Milton Moss was one of the victims of the radiation that struck the city of Trollstopia in California but he was trying to save the animals, which gave him the ability to shapeshift into animals, accelerated healing factor, and zoolingualism. While working part time at a veterinary and animal rescue, Milton Moss later met Smidge, who later became his girlfriend but he was inspired by her and her superhero ego, Miss Aquila that he fashioned his own superhero suit and mask that helps him shapeshift. He continued having a relationship with her, even though she has to go on tours with her boyfriend. When the Justice Brigade is being formed, Smidge recruits him by referral that he becomes one of the founding members of the greatest team ever. 

Trolls belongs to Dreamworks Queen Rose belongs to me Jussy belongs to @jade-green-butterfly Emi belongs to @groovinyeen @yeenstrollart

[ckiine]

Sweater - Mini theater

A/N 1 - Hellooo everyone, imma back with a mini theater. Sooo it is basically my point of view of what went through when Conan received the hand-knit sweater made by Ran in chapter 237 - From the bottom of the heart.

A/N 2 - This portion was sooooooo adorable and heart warming, I just haddd to write about it!!!

Without further ado, please enjoy!! :)) <3

Conan had no idea when his walk had turned into a speed walk, then to a jog and the fact that he was now sprinting at full speed to Hakase's place.

He was running as fast as his short feet could carry him. It all began from the phone call he had recievd from Hakase.

"Aahh Shinichi-kun, Ran-chan dropped a package for you."

The distance between the Mouri detective agency and Hakase's place felt much longer today.

Is it really for me? Something for me?

Conan's muddled and insecure thoughts cleared up when Ran asked for the sweater from Araide-sensei.

Ahhh so she is into knitting these days.....

So that's the reason she is late these days....

I guess she is at Kisaki-sensei's place......

His unsettled stomach had considerably calmed down when he had deduced that Ran had not fallen in love with Araide-sensei and that was enough for Conan to find his peace but the phone call from Hakase had left him running blank and breathless, as his deduction and his heart made his emotions swing like a pendulum.

His hope and logic were constantly at the opposing ends.

"I...*huffs*... am.... *huffs*..... here.... Hakase....," said Conan.

"Here you go Shinichi-kun."

Hakase passed him the package with a grin, clearly having guessed what was inside.

However Conan was already busy with his deductions and rushed to the basement of Hakase's house and lowered the temperature of the radiator.

The lightness of the package, the compressibility of the wrapped objects, so sounds apart from the rustling of the paper packaging, Conan had his answer.

It's a hand knit sweater for me.

His throat constricted with emotion and he had to gulp several times before he could even proceed to unwrap the package.

Very slowly he took out the wrapped present from the paper bag and slowly undid the packaging to reveal a light blue coloured sweater.

Shinichi couldnt breath.

He held it up and studied the sweater in detail and in his minds eye he could picture the entire process. Ran selecting yarn of a colour which he would like. Reading up on the steps, watching tutorials and slowly giving a structure to a ball of yarn.

Conan studied every detail, including the meticulously made knits, the high neck collar, the raised block pattern, the cuffs, the shoulder length. He could sense every sincere and dedicated action Ran had done to make this sweater. Everything about this piece of knitwear was undoing his heart.

Feeling extremely overwhelmed by emotions, Shinichi hugged the sweater close to his chest and buried his face in the high-neck collar. The sweater obviously smelled of simple yarn, but even then Shinichi could feel that once the sweater was completed Ran had hugged this finished product as well. He did his best to take in even the most minuscule remnant of her.

The room had gotten colder now and Shinichi pulled it away and saw a paper fall from inside the sweater. It was Ran's handwritten note.

Remember to stay warm, it is getting colder these day - Ran

Shinichi read the note again and again and finally pressed his lips against the paper, kissing Ran's name.

How many more times must I lose my heart to you Ran?

Conan put the sweater on which was quite obviously big on him and even reached his feet. He was covered in it from head to toe, literally. He felt a little bittersweet as it would have been a perfect fit on 'Shinichi' but even then he pulled back the sleeves and gently kissed the cuffs and the high collar.

It was warm, soft and cosy, exactly like the heart of the woman he so dearly loved.

Feeling a bubbling sense of joy he looked at himself in the mirror admiring the knitwear all over again and completely failing to see his own flushed cheeks and the twinkle in his eyes.

Post his admiration he sauntered out from the basement still wearing it and walked upstairs to make a very important call.

They are soooo adorable <333

*****

A/N - Let me know if you guys like it!! and please forgive me for typos

And as always bonus Shinran pics.

A/N - The images are NOT MINE. All the credits to the original artists!

Once again. All the credits to the ORIGINAL artist!!

Thank you. Whoever you are, thank you for drawing this!!!

[chuuyrr]

love at first heal

bungo stray dogs x scarlet witch! reader

masterlist of the series

╰➤ CW(s): possible bungo stray dogs spoilers. mentions of scarlet witch's powers. subtle reference to mcu's infinity war. akutagawa falling in love but he's a bit in denial lolol

╰➤ PAIRING(s): akutagawa ryunosuke

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which you are assigned to a mission with akutagawa ryunosuke by the port mafia boss. akutagawa gets severely injured and is stubborn about it, but you heal him anyway, and he is astounded that someone as ruthless and strong as you can be so gentle and kind. full request.

akutagawa has a black and white "survival of the fittest" worldview, with the strong ideal that weak people should die and be replaced by stronger ones. he is not afraid of pain or defeat. he's also merciless, blunt, and incredibly stubborn, making him the self-proclaimed port mafia's black-fanged hellhound.

but, if there was another person akutagawa believed to be as powerful as port mafia executive nakahara chuuya, or even more powerful, it would be you—[surname] [name].

the ability user who is feared by both allies and enemies, the harbinger of chaos; the witch.

he doesn't think much of you. akutagawa believes you're just another member of the underground organization he frequently encounters, but that all changes when mori ougai summons both of you to his office.

as you enter the office a few minutes after him, akutagawa barely looks at you. he doesn't even bother greeting you after you've said hello to him. it was nothing at all.

you're just another subordinate; another mafioso in the organization. akutagawa is definitely not thinking about how you could easily win dazai's favor if he was still here and knew what you can and would do given your dangerous ability.

"i have called the two of you here for an important assignment," mori explained, placing a few papers on his desk to show you and akutagawa, "you two will be on the frontlines. as you know, the black order is one of the mafia's enemies, and they are after the mind stone that we have recently smuggled."

you lifted your hand and to use your red psionics to grab the papers and read them while passing the others to akutagawa, who quietly accepted it back and read them.

"the mission you have along with the rest is simple: protect the mind stone and get rid of the black order," mori explained, clasping his gloved hands together.

as soon as the assignment was given to you, you and akutagawa went to the expected area of attack from the black order based on mori's deduction, while the rest of the black lizard and port mafia subordinates scattered outside, carrying firearms with the intent to protect and kill.

"tsk, they should be here any minute now," you warned akutagawa, stopping in your tracks and straightening your posture as you felt multiple presences entered the parameters, "on your guard, akutagawa."

"you don't need to tell me that," scoffed akutagawa, finally looking at you with his arms folded across his chest.

despite your warning to your partner for this mission, turbulence in the air was something you and akutagawa failed to notice right away as you looked around. only when you snapped your head did you notice a spear stabbing akutagawa straight across the stomach at blinding speed.

"a-ack!" gurgled akutagawa, immediately activating rashomon and shooting black tendrils of his coat to attack his pursuer, but the cloaked person jumped aback with their spear fast.

"akutagawa!" you screamed, and before you could dart towards him and use your red psionics, you were blasted by a similar repulsive force of energy.

you grunted, feeling it burn through your clothes and pierce your skin painfully, but you ignored it as your red psionics immediately pulled you back up. you acted quickly, already making your way towards akutagawa, watching him fight his pursuer while activating a force field around yourself to protect yourself from your own opponent who was tailing you.

"stay back and focus! i don't need your help, witch!" akutagawa yelled as he wiped the blood from his chin.

you scoffed at akutagawa's stuborness, but who were you to judge him? this was who he really was. without any choice, you reluctantly left and let him be before confronting your own opponent, mentally noting the healing of akutagawa as soon as you see the effect of his wound on him. even though he could be a pain in the ass, he was still your ally; your partner.

you faced the other enemy who arrived with the cloaked figure you recognized as midnight from the information mori provided you both. you engaged your opponent in hand-to-hand combat while using your red psionics, dodging swings and jabs with quick and light feet.

you effortlessly used the wall as a boost before leaping to evade the spear that was thrown at you at blinding speed, but you quickly stumbled back as your opponent landed a high-jump drop kick and felt your shoulder get wounded as your opponent returned the spear to themselves.

you clutched your shoulder, breathing heavily, and began to use your red psionics to patch yourself up when your gaze was drawn away from your opponent to see akutagawa's state. your eyes widened as you saw him gravely injured, barely standing with trembling knees and clutching his bloodied stomach and other arm.

the black order was unquestionably skilled. they were as stealthy as gin, akutagawa's sister. given how quick and almost silent they were as assassins, you and akutagawa failed to even prevent them from ambushing you both earlier.

but you and akutagawa were members of the port mafia, and you despised seeing your partner and allies in such a state. you moved quickly forward, your power augmenting your speed, as you blasted an abnormally large red psionic at your opponent, eventually sending them flying together with the damn spear.

you positioned yourself protectively in front of akutagawa, extending both of your hands, one aligned to your arm, blazing red psionics seeping from your fingertips as you made a direct shot of another abnormally large blast of red to akutagawa's opponent.

"oi, didn't i tell you to stay back, witch?" scowled akutagawa, his knees weakly buckled to the floor.

"throw all the insults you want, akutagawa. i am not going to let you die out here," you retorted, your eyes glowing red as you locked your gaze on his harsh gaze.

"i don't need your help. i already told you, i'm fi—ACK!" you instantly recoiled as he got cut off.

your eyes widened with concern as akutagawa violently wheezed, causing him to stop applying pressure to his exposed wounds, which turned out to be more serious than you had anticipated.

"akutagawa," you muttered in a whisper as your eyes began glowing into a menacing red color.

with your raw emotions now amplifying your ability, a massive repulsive force of red psionics emerged from you and it immediately seized the black order assassins you and akutagawa were facing, as well as the rest of the black order members who had now arrived on the scene to ambush you and him altogether, just as they were about to attack you with their respective weapons at blinding speed.

the sight of you standing there frozen still as your red psionics violently constrict the black order and cut through them like nothing widened akutagawa's eyes—it was something he could describe as ability on autopilot.

red painted the atmosphere, both psionics and blood splurging around you and him like a splash of red color on a canvas with bodies crumbling and falling like rain.

everything was red instead of black and white, and finally, akutagawa recognizes you as someone rather than a mere nothing or a simple subordinate or protege of nakahara chuuya bearing the monstrosity of a witch. it was almost as if he was seeing colors for the first time.

you knelt down to his height as he was on his knees on the floor, but the ingrained memory of you using your ability for chaos and havoc caused akutagawa to flinch. despite his obvious reluctance, your hands still held him.

you were already using your red psionics again before akutagawa could react and have his rashomon seize you. his eyes widened as he felt his deep wounds gradually stitch up and glow red, similar to your eyes and hands.

"you should never put your life in danger like this again," you said calmly as your fingers interlocked and twitched incoherently to put your magic to work.

akutagawa's eyes narrowed at your words, but he quickly stopped speaking when you continued talking, "i know, it feels weird, and that's because i'm sewing up damage at a molecular level."

akutagawa's eyes widened, and the next thing you know, he was speaking again, "you just... read my mind..."

"yes, i can, apart from getting into people's heads to control them like kyusaku," you explained before returning your gaze to his wounds, "anyway, stay put for me, okay? your wounds are deeper than i expected."

normally, akutagawa would have acted out by now. he most certainly should have.

because if there was one thing he despised, it was being the weaker person and having his most private thoughts and feelings exposed. but for the time being, all akutagawa could do was stare at you and stay put as you told him to.

the proximity between you and him was making his chest twinge in an oddly good way, just like the sensation of being patched up by your red psionics.

he took advantage of the opportunity to see you this close while you were focused on healing him. akutagawa's gaze was drawn to the way your brows were furrowed and your face contorted into such intense concentration that you were subconsciously biting your bottom lip.

damn. you were practically glowing and mesmerizing, especially with the light from your red psionics illuminating you.

akutagawa immediately shut his eyes. you weren't reading his thoughts right now, were you? because if you were, he wouldn't know what to do, especially now that he's seriously injured. this should not have happened to him, yet here he was, admiring you.

"are you okay? does it hurt?" you inquired, seeing as akutagawa had his eyes closed and his face slightly scrunched up.

as akutagawa opened his eyes, he did not see the witch that everyone was terrified of. instead, he saw you. akutagawa saw [surname] [name]; someone he didn't expect to be as gentle and kind given your ruthless, captivating yet manipulative allure as a mafioso and an executive's subordinate and protege.

"i'm.. just resting my eyes.." akutagawa replied quietly, his voice tame instead of harsh, "and it doesn't hurt. i can't even feel it.."

"i'll be done in a minute. i'll have you feeling better in no time, akutagawa," you said with a smile on your lips as you stared at him.

"tsk, you don't have to do that. i can get myself checked back at the headquarters later," akutagawa exclaimed, his gaze drawn away from you, "you should save your energy. i doubt that was the rest of the black order, [name]."

this time, your eyes widened in surprise.

akutagawa called you by your name, and it wasn't just any name. instead of calling you witch, he addressed you by your first name.

"oi, why are you looking at me like that?" akutagawa asked, almost scoffing, "you know, if you're tired, just stop. i can move now."

aside from that, he was suddenly incredibly time and surprisingly caring. did you just flip a switch on akutagawa, or did you hex him by accident with chaos magic? how strange.

"it's nothing... i was just trying to feel the other presences," you replied, blinking and returning your focus to his wounds.

"you better not be reading my damn mind again, you hear?" akutagawa clicked his tongue, clearly not believing your words, "or i'll cut you up myself using rashomon."

"you wouldn't do that," you countered immediately, your lips slowly curving into a smirk.

he asked, scoffing, "and how do you know that?"

"simply because i know you wouldn't," you replied, now fully-smirking as you finished healing him up, "but also because i can and will kill you just as you could kill me, ryunosuke."

akutagawa felt the twinge in his chest all over again with his heart skipping a beat.

you really were a bewitching being.

[ author's notes ! ok so yeah i haven't written for akutagawa in a long while, so i really hope this was okay. tried sticking with his character and avoiding portraying him out of character while also making him admire and fall for reader, which i honestly found challenging but quite fun to write :) thank you so so much for requesting and enjoy reading <3]

[ p.s. ! in this writing, reader is a mafia subordinate under the care of chuuya. i figured it would only make sense because of their said abilities and how they both turn/glow red lolol ]

[yakool-foolio]

If the Professor's waxwork model has been returned, hopefully we'll be able to see what it looks like! If the model was always going to be returned even without the ransom, then what was the true purpose of it being stolen, I wonder? My best guess is that it served as a distraction... WAIT GAME THEORY: WAS ASMAN THE PROFESSOR? The killer could've used the model as a nonliving body double for Asman and nobody would be able to tell the difference if they couldn't find the model.

Well, he may be headless, but he's no horseman. Damn Enoch, the stress must've really gotten to ya for your hair to turn all white. SHOLMES FEED YOUR KID JEEZ LOUISE! A thick shard of glass, hm? Like it came from, I dunno, THE CRYSTAL TOWER? My theory very well may be correct, huzzah!

Hooooly shit that's a Hellhound if I've ever heard of one. Sounds incredibly brutal, me likey the grim implications (Blank Week enthusiasts where ya at?). 'The Great Departed Soul' has a double meaning; the 'resurrection' of both Kazuma and The Professor. OH so it was the stress, forgive me Enoch for my joke I was actually /srs.

Unfortunately my friend group had to stop early for tonight cause of technical difficulties, but we're gonna try to catch up to speed tomorrow night. As compensation, have some extra miscellaneous TGAA thoughts of mine (mostly music related cause I can't help myself).

So if Klint's spirit is The Reaper, then there could be some unchecked wrath not just directed at his killer, but perhaps defendants as a whole? Thinking with ghost logic here, ghosts tend to remain on the mortal plane whenever they have unfinished business, such as when their death is unjust and their killer is still walking around a free man. So if The Professor is indeed still alive, then that would be a good reason as to why Klint's spirit seems to follow his younger brother around. The motive Klint's spirit could have in causing the deaths of the defendants prosecuted by Barok might be due to unkempt rage of his own killer still being at large, unbeknownst to most of London. He's not taking any chances at letting other potential killers go free, so he effectively curses them with a curt death so they won't harm anyone else. Klint might also not know what his killer, The Professor, looked like, so he's basically doing the ghost equivalent of firing randomly into a crowd of suspicious-looking individuals. This is all just taking the idea of a ghost causing all these deaths literally so uhhh a thick layering of salt is needed to properly ingest this take. I apologize for your high blood pressure after this.

In my escapades of assigning lawyers n prosecutors Monster Hunter themes, I've made an exception and want to give Sholmes Ruby Basarios' theme. It one of the very few consistently happy-go-lucky sounding monster themes in the whole series, which fits him being the comedic relief while also having a few off-kilter bits much like Sholmes' actual theme to showcase his roundabout way of deducting. It also features some tap dancing-esque percussion, which I love associating with the dance of deduction.

I absolutely love how Adjudication (how the track's named on Spotify is what I go off of) sounds almost like a waltz. It really evokes the feeling of the dance of death--Danse Macabre--between the lawyer and the prosecutor. It's a delicate balance of life and death any way ya look at it. One misstep could lead to your dance partner cracking their head against the floor. And we don't want anyone else to end up with a serious case of amnesia here, right?

Whisper On The Breeze by TWRP is such an Asoryu song it makes me melt. The Great Departure is all the more bittersweet to me because of it. Like hoo man these lyrics:

(To Whom It May Concern - @raymondshields)

[kemetic-dreams]

Lucien Victor Alexis (1887-1981)

Not very much is known of Lucien Alexis’ early childhood in New Orleans, but what is known are the achievements he would make in later years to come. Born on July 8, 1887 to Louis Victor and Alice Saucier Alexis, he was educated in the local schools where he excelled academically. Alexis was determined to attend Harvard University. Not having the finances to do so, he began working in 1907(at the age of twenty) as a railway mail clerk, saving for the education he so desperately desired.

By the time he reached twenty-seven, he had set aside enough money for four years of college. He applied and was accepted at Harvard but was asked to attend (for one year) Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire, a prestigious preparatory high school. While at Exeter, he lived in the home of Mr. H.F. Quimby and soon developed a keen interest in foreign languages and the sciences. By now he had only enough money for three years upon entering Harvard, so he managed by graduating “cum laude” a year early (1917). It was there, at Harvard, that he earned the nickname: “The Negro Einstein.”

That same year, Alexis entered Officers’ Training School in Des Moines, Iowa and was commissioned as a 1st lieutenant and assigned to the 367th Infantry on October 15, 1917. World War I was raging in Europe and Alexis sailed for service in France on June, 1918. Two months before departing, Alexis married Rita Holt in Gulfport, Mississippi and together they would have one son, Lucien Victor Alexis Jr.

Upon returning to New Orleans, Alexis took up the profession of teaching. He was assigned to McCarthy Elementary in 1921 and appointed Assistant Principal in 1923 at Willow Elementary. But his greatest reward came in 1926 when he became principal of McDonogh #35, the only public high school opened for the education of colored students in the city of New Orleans. For the next nearly 30 years, he would leave an indelible mark on this institution which is still being echoed by many of his formal students up to the present day.

“It was not unusual to spot our principal walking up and down the corridors of the Rampart Street School reading scientific works printed in German. Noted for his mastery of Latin, he often found time to instruct advanced classes in the subject.” (Class of 1936)

Other graduates affectionately tell stories of his successful administration but also his dreadful “army”. Being a former military man, Lucien was said to be strict but fair as well as famous for his method of disciplining students. Students who violated his dress or discipline code were forced to join Alexis’ “army” and ordered to march up and down the second floor of the school building.

Respect for Mr. Alexis soon extended beyond the school grounds and into the community. Since McDonogh #35 was located on South Rampart and Girod Streets, the students had to pass through a neighborhood of sleazy bars, houses of prostitution and various other vices. Often the girls were meddled by men on the way going and coming from school. Fortunately, once it was known that you were an “Alexis” girl, you were never meddled again. They respected Mr. Alexis and knew to show respect to his students.

The “Negro Einstein” did not give up his interest and love for science once he became principal. For five years he engaged in serious scientific study and soon published a 40 page brochure outlining his principles of a new theory which he termed his “ethonic” theory.

From 1929 to 1937, he published the following scientific articles: Fundamentals in Physics & in Chemistry, The Thermo-Electric Formula, The Riddle of the Magnetic Field, An Empirical Disclosure of the Fallacies of Relativity, A Counter-Deduction from Bent Alpha Tracks, Radiations-Their Loci of Travel and Their Loci of Origin, The Co-Origin of Gravity&Cosmic Rays, Simple Formulae for Measuring Atoms, Their Speed, and the Speed of Light.

Upon retirement, the brilliant educator and published author opened Straight Business School on North Claiborne near Esplanade Avenue and Mrs. Alexis basically ran it. Lucien Alexis also was president of the Supreme Industrial Life Insurance Company, founder and executive director of the School of Post-Modern Science in New Orleans, and a charter member of Sigma Lambda Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity.

Alexis also spent a great deal of time on his favorite hobbies at home. On the 25th Anniversary of his graduation from Harvard, he told the Harvard press of these hobbies:

“Don’t interfere with my physics and chemistry, which I have raised from the ignoble position of a hobby into the dignified status of a science. Don’t interfere with my Italian which I have picked up since leaving you fellows. Don’t interfere with my German, my French, or my Spanish which I have kept plugging at. These are my near hobbies. You may interfere with my gardening and my frequent efforts at directing operettas, especially the Gilbert and Sullivan ones, for there you are in the field of real hobbies of mine.”

Lucien Alexis passed away December 18, 1981. He is buried in the family’s tomb in St. Louis Cemetery No.3.