#Why is law so much worse than high school?

[fanghur]

This is also partly why Jaune gets so much attention, both from the creators and the audience, for better or (much, much) worse. He's the only character with a training arc in the first few volumes, which helps worldbuild, but it also seems to "confirm" the "magic high school" view many of the audience has, with how common training arcs are in such stories.

If Jaune wasn't used as an audience stand-in, it's likely the common perspective of the Huntsmen Academies would be "magic college" and therefore accurate, but many other aspects would suffer in the story as-is (though it would probably be worth it to not have to scroll past so, so many horny-Jaune posts in the rwby tag, srsly wtf).

And regarding the Combat Schools, it's very likely they also feed into other careers than Huntsmen. Various law enforcement, bodyguards, maybe even mercenaries or bounty hunters. Huntsmen specialize in Grimm, after all, so entirely possible there's other tracks for careers specializing in taking people down, instead.

RWBY and the Difference Between Combat Schools and Huntsmen Academies

One really interesting aspect of RWBY that I think we don’t discuss or recognize enough is just how long and involved the process of becoming a huntress/huntsman actually is.

Like people love to throw around terms like ‘magic high-school’ to describe Beacon and ‘super-powered teenagers’ to describe our heroines or just huntresses and huntsmen in general, but that is just demonstrably NOT the case. Sure, RUBY may have been fifteen when she came to Beacon, but that was only because she’d been bumped up two whole years. It seems that the standard age for a first-year Beacon student (and almost certainly Haven, Atlas and Shade as well) is seventeen/eighteen. And according to Ozpin, students will spend four years at the academy before graduating as full-fledged huntresses and huntsmen. Meaning that the average age for an academy graduate and newly minted grimm hunter is twenty-one/twenty-two.

Simply put, the Huntsmen Academies are NOT magic high-schools, but rather far more analogous to COLLEGES and UNIVERSITIES. Rather, it is the Combat Schools like Signal, Pharos and Sanctum that are the ‘magic high-schools’ of Remnant.

And it’s when we consider those that I think we start getting a sense of just how lengthy and dedicated the process of becoming a huntress likely is.

In her meeting with Ozpin in the first episode, Ruby comments that she ‘only has two more years at Signal’, implying that she’s likely already halfway or more through her expected time there. Meaning that Combat Schools likely run for at least four or possibly five years. Which in turn would mean that the whole process of becoming a huntress or huntsmen starts at age thirteen or even twelve.

Now obviously we can be unsettled by all the ‘child soldier’ implications there, but for one I highly doubt the Combat Schools are throwing thirteen-year-olds against Grimm, and more importantly it could even be NECCESARY for prospective huntresses and huntsmen to start training at such a young age, particularly when it comes to things like Aura and Semblances.

Consider the fact that it’s pretty clear that most people on Remnant DON’T have a Semblance, or rather an unlocked semblance, or an especially strong aura. Because actually training those things to the point where you can go toe-to-toe with rabid darkness monsters is a very long and difficult process. A process that I imagine only gets HARDER to begin the older one gets. Like with so many other skills, I wouldn’t be surprised if unlocking and beginning to train one’s semblance and aura is MUCH easier as a child than as an adult. The same likely goes for weapons and combat training.

I imagine this is one of the real purposes of Combat Schools: to provide students with a safe, controlled environment to unlock and begin training their semblance and aura.

And I imagine the Combat Schools likely serve another, more grim but ultimately necessary purpose: to weed out the kids who simply AREN’T cut out for the whole ‘monster slaying’ business.

Consider for a moment that there are likely several Combat Schools and Academies in each Kingdom, with medium to larger cities having perhaps one or two each, like Signal Academy on Patch, and Sanctum in Argus, with maybe three to five in the capital cities, and several more scattered around the kingdoms in smaller villages. And that with the legendary status of Huntress and Huntsmen in Remnant culture, a LOT of kids likely join these schools, all hoping to become a cool, badass legendary hero themselves.

Now consider just how many Beacon applicants we saw at the start of the show. A few dozen, maybe a hundred, hundred and fifty, tops? And remember that not all of that number even went through the standard Combat School training, as we know from Blake that one can apply for Academy admission directly, albeit through what is almost certainly an EXTREMELY difficult exam process. I mean, out of the eight students we follow at Beacon, we’ve confirmed only THREE actually went through Combat School; Ruby, Yang and Pyrrha. Weiss, Blake and Jaune definitely didn’t attend one, and while Ren and Nora might have, they could just as easily have done what Blake did.

To really put some numbers to this, let’s say that the Kingdom of Vale and Eastern Saunus as a whole has maybe twenty Combat Schools in total, from the handful of big schools like Pharos in the capital and other large cities, to more mid-sized schools like Signal in the larger towns and settlements, to some scattered ‘schoolhouse’-type setups run by one or two retired huntresses or huntsmen. And every year, all of those schools each get a combined average of maybe between fifty to a hundred bright-eyed thirteen-year-olds in their starting classes, each hopeful and positive they’re going to be legendary heroes one day. Putting the total number of huntsmen hopefuls across Vale each year at anywhere between one- and two-thousand.

Cut to four-to-five years later, only about a hundred of those kids will be arriving at Beacon. Which again, isn’t even counting students like Weiss and Blake who didn’t even attend a Combat School, or Pyrrha who came from a different kingdom.

Now that’s not to say I think some dark and grisly fate awaits those kids who can’t make the cut. I don’t think kids are getting killed or horribly maimed and crippled in these combat schools. Rather, they just drop out of the program.

Because it’s all simply too much for them.

Being a professional monster slayer is HARD, probably the hardest, most dangerous job in the world. And very few are truly cut out for it.

I mean, just look at the results of those Combat Schools: At the start of the series, when all those prospective Beacon students learned they were about to be launched into a Grimm-infested forest, the ONLY guy who was scared or even mildly concerned was the one who faked his way in and didn’t actually have any training or experience. Ruby, Yang, Weiss, Pyrrha, Nora, even whats-their-faces in CDRL, all of them were cool, composed and even excited.

Every last one of those first year applicants* arrived at Beacon a highly trained, capable and experienced fighter in each their own right. With an unlocked semblance, a trained aura and a custom-build weapon of their own.

This is one of the big reasons why the Huntsmen Academies are FAR more analogous to colleges and universities rather than the ‘magic high schools’ we so often see in fantasy stories, and one of the things that makes RWBY rather unique.

Basically all of our main characters (aside from that one idiot who thought he could skip the line) enter the story having already completed their requisite ‘training arcs’ and are pretty much READY to become huntresses. It’s why Beacon itself and various ‘school stories’ really WEREN’T a focus of the first three volumes and served more as a safe and comfortable ‘home base’ for our heroines. At least until Volume 3 burned down said home base and thrust our heroines into the real world for the actual story to begin.

*Obviously excluding Jaune who frankly by all rights SHOULD have been dead or at least horribly and permanently maimed within the first thirty seconds or so, were it not for the Grace of Pyrrha.

[vanillakook]

THE BOY IS MINE ꔫ - JJK

synopsis: your big sister has a new boyfriend that you can’t wait to try

parings: jk x sister in law!reader

warnings: infidelity, reader is a heavy bitch, she doesn’t care at all, strained relationships, traumatic sibling rivalry, dom!jk, fat cock!jk, sneaking around, exhibitionism, voyeurism, penetrative sex, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, rough fucking, multiple positions, reader’s pussy is an OCEAN, all hyewon does is cry, reader is actually evil, jungkook is just as bad, if not worse

nothing could have prepared jungkook for the influx of strange events that would take place over the next month. his time starts as it usually does: hyewon, his girlfriend, freaking the fuck out about every interaction he’s had and will have with her family. however, something was different this time. hyewon’s usual dread of embarrassment had shifted into full blown panic and anxiety. he was utterly confused since she had never been this bad. did something happen? he was sure her parents liked him, no? why would they let them date for nearly a year if that was the case?

jungkook had come to know why on the three hour long drive to her parents lake house. after prying he had found out it was you, her baby sister who is supposedly the devil incarnate. “i’m sure this is just a normal sibling rivalry hye, baby, my brother and i are the same way.”

“jungkook,” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “im telling you it’s not the same.”

she excused it when you were kids, but after a certain point of awareness she knew that this wasn’t a silly little rivalry, you hated her. despite you being younger by three years you had always went out of your way to make sure she was miserable. in your childhood years it started out as lying to your parents about her hitting you, or sneaking gum into her hair, breaking her dolls. these little things progressed to stealing her clothes and ruining her makeup products in middle school. once high school came around whatever she did you had to do it ten times better. clothes, shoes, sports, friends, boys. your parents had just seen it as a cute thing between a younger and older sister. little did your parents know that soon your behaviors turned cold with sinister intent, from ruining her friendships, straining her parental relationship, and fucking every single guy she’s ever bought home.

hyewon grew up with the same speech throughout her middle school and teenage years, even now in her 20s.

“she just admires you.”

“you’re her role model.”

“y/n has it all, have you ever thought that you’re the jealous one?”

bullshit.

your parents also weren’t shy about who was the favorite. although the two of you had done nearly every sport and form of hobby together, your awards were hung the highest, your interests were more funded, and you were taken more seriously. they insisted that it was just in her head for so many years, more like they were being heavily manipulated by you. now finally her boyfriend of 11 months was going go meet you in less than an hour to see for himself how fucked up you were.

the boyfriend that she so desperately has tried to keep away for so long. now her time was up.

hyewon was successful with that aspect for a while since you were dorming hours away at college. she successfully avoided holidays, family dinners, special occasions, all for almost a year. while she did limit how much she posted jungkook, she was never too sure with the extent you would go with things and has kept you blocked and hidden from all things him.

she could have avoided it for longer if this hadn’t been your first summer back from school in years and your parents were adamant on having the entire family together. usually you were able to make an excuse on why jungkook couldn’t come, work, family matters, etc. but everyone was to be at your family lake house for a full month, and that included jungkook.

“hye ill be there, all month. you have nothing to worry about.” he gave her thigh a soft squeeze and flashed his reassuring bunny smile.

“promise?”

“promise.”

jungkook couldn’t be more unaware about what exactly he was promising to. and as he rounded the corner and pulled into the hidden entrance and drove down the dirt road, hyewon grew more anxious and clammy. she felt her heart sink deeper as jungkook pulled into the driveway and parked. once she saw your sunglasses go up she knew she was fucked. skin tight red bikini, slurping on a melting strawberry popsicle, with her boyfriend ogling every curve of your body. she could have shot herself right there.

over the next month hyewon would watch her perfect relationship crumble to dust. if you were going to be trapped here all summer with your insufferable sister the least she could do was share her boyfriend. her first mistake was pulling you aside that night before bed for a talk. you followed her out to the patio and faced her, finally dropping the innocent facade you’re forced to have around others.

“what now hyewon?” you scoffed. “i haven’t seen you in a year and you’re already about to scold me about something?”

you were trying so hard not to laugh at her angry demeanor. “stay away from him. y/n i understand you can’t keep a man but that doesn’t mean you can help yourself to mine.“

you pouted at her, prying her folded arms open and taking her hands in yours. “but hyewonniee~ that’s not fair, we share everything, what would mommy and daddy say to you right now?” you tsked obnoxiously.

she snatched her hands away. “y/n, this isn’t the time to play your sick games. what the fuck don’t you get? i’m not asking you, im fucking telling your twisted ass to leave us alone.”

“come on sis live a little, i promise ill give him back,” she felt like she was going to throw up right into the lake beside you two.

“please y/n…” her voice cracked.

all you could do was give her that fuck ass smile as if you were clueless about every goddamn thing in the world. “i just wanna try him, no need to get fussy.”

that night at dinner she kept a close eye on you whenever you were near him. she allowed the small talk and conversations about his family and work, but was steadily getting annoyed when no one had been asking a single thing about what she’d been up to, obviously not you, not your parents, and not even jungkook, in fact her very far gone boyfriend was looking at you as if you had hung the stars and the moon with your bare hands. he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you as explained your college stories and travels. your sister on the other hand had her head down in her phone, earning a scowl from your parents and a few words from her own boyfriend.

“hyewon,” your father cleared his throat. “don’t you think it’s poor manners to not listen to what your sister has to say? she listens to you.”

“right, sorry.” she mumbled, putting her phone down to pick at her food.

“apologies jungkook, they’ve been this way since they were young. just a little squabble here and there.” your mother leaned over the table a squeezed his hand, to that he replied with a smile.

do little squabbles consist of fucking someone’s boyfriends and sending them the tapes of them doing so?

“trust me i understand, my older brother and i are sworn enemies but he’s my entire world.”

you decided to chimed in too. “hyewonnie doesn’t ever think i have anything interesting to say,” you pouted. “actually enough about me, sis how’s your desk job? still letting that old hag of a boss order you around?”

any normal boyfriend would take his girlfriends defense when a backhanded comment was made. instead jungkook, who was seated in between the both of you, pealed his eyes away from you for once and turned to his girlfriend. he was also waiting for her response to that. all eyes were now turned to her. you have her that knowing smirk, a smirk that knew since your lasting meeting a year ago, she had accomplished absolutely nothing but scoring a hot boyfriend. and even that was going to be ripped away from her shortly.

“i’m working on finding a new job.”

“work harder then hyewon, look at your sister.” ah here we go. your father was about to go on his comparison spiel. “y/n is set to graduate early after studying abroad and even has a job lined up for her after school, meanwhile you’ve been stuck at this little start up company for how long?”

“we love you honey, dearly. but it’s time to start being an adult.” your mom had delivered the final blow. hyewon stood up from her seat, fork clinging against the china plate.

“i need to use the restroom.”

no one tried to stop her, instead everyone fell back into a steady stream of conversation. jungkook however couldn’t even bring himself to have another thought other than you. he couldn’t have made his attraction to you more obvious. you were so fucking pretty, he hasn’t seen a being like you. sweet and delicate tone with hints of seduction. he wanted to feel bad for being more attracted to you than he was to your older sister, but fuck. your hair was pulled back into a neat bun and your dress had just reached below your ass. he tried his hardest to not stare for too long, but when you had suddenly dropped your fork and bent over to go get it he was in for quite the treat that couldn’t be passed up.

when you rose from your chair, slick trails followed behind. you hadn’t been wearing underwear and your pussy had been drooling all over the wooden chairs, leaving you with a pool of pussy juice in your seat. your cheeks burned, knowing his eyes were on you and your pretty pussy. he looked between you and your parents, hoping they weren’t seeing your antics so he could bask in it longer. luckily they were immersed in conversation.

“whoopsies, i’m so clumsy sometimes!” you sat down in your seat again, making sure he heard the wet plop! of your ass on the sticky chair. you flashed him flirty smile, once again starting small talk. “so you’re a personal trainer right?”

“mhm i am, you know anything about it?”

“enlighten me.”

“well it’s-“ his face dropped and went bright red at the feeling of your hands on him. your palm had sprawled out on his thigh, inching dangerously close to his hardening cock. “it’s um- it takes a while to um-“

“something the matter?” yes something was the fucking matter. your acrylic covered hand was now covering the growing tent in his pants. his girlfriends baby sister was palming his dick at the dining room table, in front of your fucking parents. “sounds like an easy job, maybe you could train me too, i’m a fast learner, and i haven’t worked out in ages…” your eyes narrowed, tone getting lower and heavier.

“hey we’re going to start cleaning up, you kiddos finished with your food?” your mom started confiscating the plates and dishes as you worked at jungkooks zipper, desperately wanting to get a look at the huge cock you were groping.

“we’re not kids mom, we’re in our early 20s.”

“oh fine fine, when your sister comes back from her mini temper tantrum tell her i put her food in the fridge if she wants to finish it.” once your parents were gone you could finally cut the small talk and get right to the point, except jungkook had halted your actions, removing your hand and holding it in his while you bit back a grin.

“what the fuck is wrong with you? do you know how much this would hurt your sister?”

“so?”

“so? are you out of your mind?”

you rolled your eyes. “oh now you wanna play moral police after you’ve been eye fucking me the entire night and almost came in your pants from my hand alone?” if he really didn’t want it you were going to back off. you pulled away completely and scooted your chair over.

jungkook leaned in closer, pining you against your chair. “you wanna feel up on my dick? go ahead sweetheart, but not at the same fucking table your parents are eating at. hyewon could walk in any second too, you really wanna risk her seeing this? risk her ending this before i get to ruin you?”

oh. oh.

“you wanna ruin me? your girlfriends little sister? you really don’t care about her do you?” your eyes lit up once again.

jungkook looked around, peering around the corners of the house to make sure it was clear before what he did next. lust was fully taken over, any thoughts of hyewon were gone, and it was only a few hours into knowing your little minx ass but he wanted to be consumed by you. his hand went around your neck, gripping it to the point where your circulation was almost severed. “i just wanna try you baby, see if i chose the wrong sister or not. and anyways, whatever hye doesn’t know won’t hurt her right? now c’mere pretty.”

the stars had aligned in that moment for you. you had jungkook right where you wanted him.

however she did. hyewon knew exactly what would happen once she left the table, it was her way of accepting defeat. as hyewon sobbed in the bathroom she knew her sister and boyfriend were exchanging more than holy words and touches. she knew how quick you worked. when it came to ruining everything she loved and desired you were always quick. luckily she couldn’t witness the vile things happening at that dining room table.

“gosh, this fucking pussy,” he landed a slap to your sopping cunt. poor baby was crying down there for some action, clenching that tight hole around nothing and pushing out more and more thick ropes of slick. “damn baby i knew you wanted this dick, but fucking hell.” he couldn’t believe how soaked you were, he knew he’d slip his cock in with ease, nothing like your sister.

“aw kook, you must be so bored with her if you feel this comfortable with playing in my pussy. look at you throwing a year down the drain.” and you couldn’t be happier about it.

“fucking tell me about it. love my baby to death but a man has needs you know?” he took another glance around before unzipping his pants fully this time and placing your hand over his fat cock once again. “hye never knows what to do with it, but i’m sure a slut like you will.”

he tugged his boxers down and you watched his angry member spring up, slapping against his stomach with a mean, red tip that was throbbing for attention. your mouth gaped open at the sight of the pretty thing. lengthy, girthy, veiny, and in need of a tight little pussy gripping around it. “make it quick and i’ll make sure to take good care of you later sweetheart.” he guided you to your knees, sat back, and enjoyed your mouth. all while hyewon sobbed her heart out a few feet away.

later that night after you were coming back from a late night jog, hyewon was ready in the living room for you. she needed to put her foot down for once. every other time was different, but this was her chance to salvage her relationship. once you stepped in the door she stood, to which you didn’t pay her a second glance. “the hell do you want? you’re stalking me now?”

“if you keep trying your luck with jungkook im telling mom and dad.”

you let out a mocking cackle as you made your way to grab a glass of water. “what are we? fucking five? maybe if you knew how to pleasure your boyfriend we wouldn’t be in this situation,”

her mouth went dry. “what?”

“oops… well cats out the bag. when you decided to go be dramatic and cry in the bathroom as if anyone cared, jungkook was very quick to say how much of a bad fuck you were.” you provoked her farther. you were younger, you were shorter, but still you loomed over her, in every aspect, in every way, of every day of your lives. “you always pick the easy ones. the ones who hate you more specifically.”

“jungkook loves me, something you’ll never experience.” she spat.

you grinned, leaning against the counter nonchalantly before breaking her heart in two. “and he’s gonna love this pussy even more. he already loves one of my holes. ask him about it.” you shot her a wink before leaving for bed.

there was still a month to go and as the weeks progressed she watched his eyes linger more as your clothes got tighter. she watched your touches get lower. she watched your hangouts go from the three of you to just you and her boyfriend. she watched how you two would talk for hours then get silent when she entered a room. she watched you press your ass up against him when squeezing around tight spaces. it was only a matter of time before she was phased out completely, but she still wouldn’t go down without a fight. jungkook was the greatest thing to ever happen to her, he was worth fighting for, she felt it, she knew it.

yet obviously he didn’t see her the same. he couldn’t care less about his relationship more than ever now since you had given him the best head of his life. now every night, just like this one, he was nose deep in your cunt, devouring you. jungkook waited until hyewon was sound asleep before he slipped himself into your room in the late hours of the night. thank goodness she picked the ones who were skilled with their tongue, because this was just the stress reliever you needed,

cumming down her boyfriends throat for the third time tonight.

“f-fffuck!” your back arched upwards from the feeling of his tongue dragging down your slit. he simply pushed you back down, using the weight of his hand to keep you there. “too much, ‘s too much koo!” you pulled at his hair roughly, making him groan deliciously. how the fuck did you taste like this? you were becoming his favorite flavor.

“oh yeah too much?” he took two fingers, plunging them inside of your cunt and watching the disappear deeper with every thrust. “so fucking wet for me doll, look at how you’re drenching my fingers.” he kept his voice low while your screams went wild. part of him even hoped your cries awoke your sister. he was so fucked up for wanting this, wanting her to see how good he fucked her pretty little sister. he wanted her to see how he fucked her sister in every way that he would never fuck her. he was sick as hell.

his fingers rammed against your g spot roughly. your mind fogged up, making your words start to come out in nothing but incoherent babbles. your body went limp from the amount of times he had dragged your nut out of you tonight. “c’mon princess, gimme one more, right on my fingers. be a good girl and cum baby, cum.”

“holy shiiiiii- awh fuck fuck, fuck i’m- jungkookk!” you whined with tears streaming down your face. with one more clench of your hole and a few more angry thrusts of his fingers you were soaking your sheets and his face. once jungkook removed his fingers you released everything he was keeping inside. he dove right back into you nose first to catch all of the creamy slick dripping from your hole. you couldn’t handle overstimulation, trying time and time again to get him away from your pussy before you came again.

“stop, stop stop- fucking hell stop!” trying to push him away was useless, you were starting to realize he did this shit for his own pleasure.

once he decided he was finished his meal he pulled back, looking up at your flustered and tear stained face. he smirked to himself when he saw your needy pussy still clenching around nothing. it took time for your body to shake off the after effects of your orgasm, but he stood by and waited for you to come back to earth. “better get back before your sister wakes up, you good mama?” he sucked your essence off of his fingers, making you lick your lips at the action.

“already? one more hour, please?”

“it’s starting to get harder to say no to you.” he laid between your legs, trying his hardest not to accidentally push against your sensitive clit. you admired him from this view, his soft features and the various piercings that graced his lip and ears. he was so goddamn handsome, you felt bad that he had to settle for your basic sister. “what are you thinking?” he chimed.

“nothing much, just about how glad i am hyewon bought you home, it’s like she just knew you were right for me.” fuck, you were twisted.

“you’re going to get me in so much trouble doll, what will your parents think of me if they find out?”

you shrugged. “they could care less. everyone knows she can’t keep a guy.”

“and i’m guessing that’s due to you?” he smirked.

you tried to fight your smile but it was useless. “i wouldn’t say that. it’s just that every guy reconsiders when they see she has a sister.”

that was exactly what was happening here now. jungkooks brain chemistry was being altered to only think of you, to only want you, and the month wasn’t even over yet. the way he had pulled away would be the reason for hyewon’s nagging every night after bed from now on. she garnered argument after argument every night in bed, trying desperately for jungkook to see where this behavior was wrong. he was too far gone by now, getting defensive when hyewon would state the obvious.

“you’re acting fucking crazy!” jungkook fumbled out of the bed angrily, snatching a pillow and extra blanket to take to the couch. “she’s your sister, do you hear yourself?” he yelled, as if you didn’t just have a face full of his cock for dessert under the dining room table two weeks ago, as if he wasn’t knuckles deep in you the night prior. he knew it was wrong, he knew it was disrespectful to do it while staying in the same house as your parents. but fucking hell.

he felt like needed you more after tasting you once. he felt sick for not even being attracted to his girlfriend anymore. he felt disappointed in himself for letting almost a year go down the drain. but you felt better than anything.

“jungkook she’s trying to steal you from me, she’s- do you not see? has she manipulated you that far already?” hyewon was on the verge of tears, lower limp trembling as she stared back at jungkook. he gave her an annoyed look and sighed, getting ready to pull out manipulative tactics of his own.

“i understand you might envy her, she’s younger, she gets along well with your parents, but when you start making shit up out of jealousy it doesn’t look good hye.” what the fuck could you have done to make him so far gone? what the fuck had you been spewing to him?

“do you fucking hear yourself? you’re defending a bitch you’ve known two weeks!” she was losing her mind, truly. “you’ve been so distant kook, you don’t hold me anymore, you barely kiss me, and it all started when we fucking got here! you told me you be on my side for this trip, mine, not hers.” her voice cracked but he still couldn’t find it in him to care.

“until you sort your hissy fit out, i’ll be on the couch.” he shut the door behind him and she could hear shuffling down the steps growing fainter. her head was pounding from all this nonsense. she hadn’t had one normal day since stepping in this lake house. her family was indifferent to her and now another boyfriend of hers was trying to convince her she was crazy. jungkook did a terrible job however, because once she heard your door creak open in the middle of the night, she knew exactly where you were going.

and she followed.

hyewon crept her way down the stairs, careful not to let anyone hear. she could hear jungkook’s raspy voice and your soft giggles, along with a very smacking noises followed after. even though she has witnessed you ruin her relationships time and time again, nothing could prepare her for what she was about to see. when she rounded the corner her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. there you were, on all fours in front of her boyfriend, with your pants pulled over your ass, and a big, heavy dick fucking you into the pillow cushions. her boyfriend, the love of her life, fucking you into the pillow cushions.

her hand flew over her mouth and she bit back tears, watching you and jungkook fuck her over in plain sight. it was over. everything she worked to salvage, it was gone. yet she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the sight. from seeing how much more intimate he was with you. she flinched when he smacked your ass harshly. she needed to stop this, but why couldn’t she? hyewon was frozen in place, forced to watch jungkook give himself to you.

“shiiiiitt- pussy squeezing me baby, control that cunt so i don’t cum quick.” he pulled out, pumping your slick up and down his shaft. you wiggled your ass around, smacking it against his pelvis in desperation. you needed your cunt filled again. “calm down mama, fuck.”

“can’tttt,” you dragged. “hmph. fuck me or i’ll do it myself.” you should have never said that. jungkook pulled you back by your hair, his hand gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. your back arched in a painful way and your pussy was leaking on he cushions.

“spoiled fucking brat, think i’m obligated to fill your holes? don’t get this twisted.” he removed his hand from around his cock to smack your tits around, mesmerized with how the perky mounds looked. “making me cheat on my girlfriend, making me fall in love with this pussy. all this is your fault, now get down and throw that shit back.” without warning he slid in. the stretch was painfully addicting.

“koo! you’re so fucking big- nnnnghhh shiitt,” once you were used to the stretch you started to move back on him, when he saw your hand moving to circle your clit he yanked it back. he held it behind your back to ensure you didn’t make the same mistake again. of course your bratty ass couldn’t resist pissing him off even more and tried again. now both of your arms were folded behind you with half your face being smothered in the couch.

“you know- hmph-“ he started saying in between strokes. “one thing about your sister? she knows how to listen. trained her well. guess you need the same don’t you?” you nodded with a bright smile on your face that would soon be wiped. hyewon sobbed softly around the corner, listening to the way jungkook carelessly spoke about her. “fuck, you’re perfect. i wanna see you baby c’mere.” you were flipped on your back now, switching from one position to the other.

when you didn’t think it could get any better, jungkook dragged your legs up to his broad shoulders and he was now face to face with you. you shook your head no repeatedly, something that just provoked him more. his big brown eyes narrowed as he slammed himself into you. “ohhhhh-“ you were so fucking done for. he hit your soft spot repeatedly, abusing your mushy walls with his heavy cock. you tried keeping your whines to a minimum but once jungkook saw a certain someone lurking he wanted to hear more.

jungkook had looked up and made direct eye contact with hyewon, unfaltering eyes burning holes into her skull. he picked up his pace, slamming his hips into you and knocking the breath out of you every time. what a dumb bitch was all he could think. did she really expect him not to indulge in her minx of a sister? she trusted him to keep his composure while you were walking around in little to no clothes? pathetic. jungkook kept stroking you mainly because he knew hyewon wouldn’t do a fucking thing. she would sit right there and take it, just how you were taking him. “look princess, got a visitor.”

your head whipped around, seeing your sister trembling. if you were normal this would hurt you just as much, betraying her in such a foul manner. however, you hated her. you’ve hated her ever since you figured you weren’t the only child. you had been ruining her life forever to guarantee she would get the hint and leave the family. that was why you started targeting her boyfriends, if she kept getting them taken then naturally she would stay away. but she didn’t, and now here we were again, you wished you could say you hated to do this, but she needed to learn. after this you were going to guarantee she’d be far from not only you and your parents, but jungkook too.

“hyewonnie!” a squeal sounded from you. jungkook slowed his pace down. “god he’s so good, i’m so fucking glad you found him big sis,” your hands went up and stroked his round cheeks, running your acrylics over his skin. “after he fills me up with some babies we’re gonna get married and have a nice big wedding that you’ll never set foot on.”

blow after blow. you knew how to make her hurt.

“baby…” he panted on top of you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and pressed kisses to the sweet spot before mumbling into your skin. “no need to be so harsh, i think she gets it love.”

“i fucking hate you both. you’re nothing to me, this entire family is nothing to me.” she finally spoke.

“mhmm, right there koo, so fucking deep-“ your eyes rolled back and you tuned her out, focusing only on the sensual way you were being fucked. “want you to cum in me, fill my cunt up baby, make me a mama.” something feral snapped in jungkook. as his speed picked up his kisses became rougher, biting up and down your shoulders and your neck to mark you. hyewon watched as you two shared such an intimate moment, hating herself for wishing she was you.

“cum with me doll.” that was all it took for you to release all over his cock. plop! plop! plop! was all that could be heard once he emptied his balls inside of you. jungkook struggled to catch his breath. once he pulled out you both watched the waterfall of cum drip from your fucked out hole. he took his cock in his hand and with the tip, pushed it all back inside. “can’t let that get away now can we?”

that had sent hyewon over the edge truly. she stomped up the stairs and barged into her room, starting to repack her suitcase early. yet she was trapped. jungkook was her ride here. she could ask your parents but it was such a long drive back to where she lived. she was stuck here with the both of you for two more weeks. how was she supposed to explain this to her friends, her co workers, everyone who thought jungkook would be her final. this was the icing on the cake that made her despise you. any love she had was far gone now. she sobbed and sobbed while listening to yours and jungkooks shared giggles, hearing him run you a shower and talk the night away.

once jungkook was asleep in your bed, you stood in her door way, basking at how much of a wreck she was. she didn’t need to look up to feel your presence. “what now? what y/n? you’ve done enough and after this consider me gone from all of your lives.”

“you’re so dramatic oh god. you’re acting like i didn’t warn you.” you welcomed yourself into her room. “think i might keep him around, i actually like him. thank you sis.” your hands went over your heart.

she backed up farther onto her bed. “stay away from me you evil fuck.”

“hyewonnie, i told you from the moment i saw him, the boy is mine.”

masterlist

[aledethanlast]

Why do you think Mathilda is hiding Jeremy's papers 🤔

Short answer: because Jeremy is the only one of her kids who will piss on her if she were on fire, and she knows it.

Long answer: because Mathilda consistently, across every family story, makes shit decisions that feed into her own wants in the short and mid term, even as they make everyone else miserable.

Trent Knox told her from the outset of their relationship that he would not make any concessions in his career for their family, and she still chose to have 5 kids by him before she left.

We don't know much about the transitory period when Knox became Wilshire, but we can only assume that the sudden political connection is when the now-Wilshires became image-obsessed to the point of using their entire neighborhood as a spy network, not to mention Warren's brazen leveraging of his family's influence in law enforcement.

Bryson is selling Jeremy prescription drugs and then cocaine, but it's a higher priority to pay off his boyfriend to go away. Noah's mental state turns bad, then worse, but Mathilda won't bother with the subject past blaming Jeremy for setting a poor example.

Then it blows up. Because of fucking course it's going to blow up. But Mathilda is a rich woman with a rich husband, and they've got one answer for everything: throw money at it until it goes away. They bury Dexter, they bury the drugs, they bury the police reports, they bury Jeremy's addiction.

But there is no amount of money that makes Joshua, her youngest living son, be willing to stay in the same house as the rest of them, and has to be sent to live with his grandfather in DC. And I think that's what makes her panic and tighten her hold so much on the rest of them.

Annalise is "allowed" to live alone in her mid-twenties, and Bryson gets to go to college across the country, but Jeremy has described them as emotionally checked out since he was in high school. Two books in, we have yet to hear either of them say something kind. They are here because complying is marginally easier than fighting.

Jeremy is the last one still truly in the house, the last one Mathilda can exercise complete control over, and the last one willing to tell her how much it hurts him.

She knows what she's doing. She knows that if Jeremy had any choice in the matter he would get as far away from her as he possibly could and never, ever come back. But he is also the last of her children who hasn't yet given up on seeing her as a loving mother.

This is why she hides every document he needs to get away from her. Why she tightens her grip even when she can see his face turning blue. Mathilda can't accept that her children hate her, and will justify any abuse to keep hold of the last one willing to look her in the eye and say he loves her, even if it breaks him.

[1d1195]

Dolcezza I

You know me and my need for love at first sight.

This is where I’ll keep her: Dolcezza

Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of stalking

~5.5k words

Definitely multi-part. This part is mostly from the MC perspective. The very end peeks into Harry's brain and the second part will likely pick up more onto his POV.

Hope you enjoy!

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

Harry turned pausing by the shelf pressed against the wall. “D’you really want me t’leave?” He asked with a frown. “M’sorry. I jus’... really want t’help you, kitten,” he explained. “S’like I need to. S’almost... compulsive... but I’ll leave if y’want me to.”

“No, I’m totally fine, thank you,” she said into her phone.

“Are you sure?” Eleanor asked. “I can send Louis over.”

“No, no, that’s so unnecessary, El. Really. I’ll be fine.”

She could hear her best friend sigh heavily into the speaker. Eleanor was nearly a thousand miles away. She got a new job and while the benefits and everything about it were great, and would make Eleanor wildly successful, she was sadly away from her platonic soulmate. It was extremely hard to let her go. Worse, Louis would be joining her just as soon as he nailed down a new job out there.

But Louis was around for now, which was a great relief for Eleanor. Her best friend was a lot of things, but aware of how scary her situation wasn’t one of them. Louis knew he was essentially filling as best friend for the time being and he was expected to drop everything to get to her aid if Eleanor said so.

But that would only last so long.

Eleanor didn’t want to think about that right now.

She was carrying a box from her car toward the building. Her shoulder pressing her phone to her ear as best she could. Beside the building was a small little alley where her entry way to her new place resided. As much as it killed her to pay for it, she got a whole moving company to bring her furniture in already so at the rest was pretty standard. Her family, God love them, didn’t even think that she might need some help. If anything, she would have had to bribe them into helping her. Even if it was just for the furniture. If Eleanor was in town she would have helped with the boxes and other stray things she had heaped in her car.

Even with Eleanor’s presence closer, she felt alone. Eleanor had Louis and she would never fault her for that. Louis was everything she would want in a best-friend-in-law. But there was always this element of not fully having Eleanor—not like when they were in college and sharing a dorm room. It was different now. Not bad, but different. Her family was great but a little self-centered at times. Part of the problem, she dropped everything to help them whenever they asked but they rarely returned the favor. She did it all, so why would she need help?

Fortunately, moving allowed her to downsize quite a bit so her mid-sized SUV was able to hold almost all of her boxes in one trip from her storage unit to the new place. Maybe, this even helped her explain away her family’s lack of help.

But her brother was either busy working at the college dispatch center most of the weekend or playing beer pong at a frat party. Her sister was so wrapped up in her high school love life or maybe just being the princess her mom and dad made her out to be by never making her do anything of importance. Her parents were probably waiting on her hand and foot without even realizing. If not, they were probably creating some sort of computer-virus havoc on their home computer that for some reason her sister wouldn’t be able to fix. Or maybe they finally started fixing the kitchen up as they said they would for the last year waiting for their oldest to come home and fix all the little things they broke in the process.

If she thought about it too long, she would get annoyed. Her brother and sister were more than capable of helping and they just didn’t. It drove her nuts. So, at the end of it, she couldn’t bother her family for help. Because it barely felt like they could help themselves.

She was lucky because the alleyway wasn’t creepy. Not even at night. The whole street was a dream come true really. Part of her thought that despite the circumstance, this was actually a much-needed move. It was almost lucky that she found such an amazing place. Her own parking space right out front of the building, a coffee shop—a mere stone’s throw from said parking space—almost everything she needed was within walking distance. It was perfect.

Of course, the best and most wonderful selling point of all was by far that her new apartment was right above an Italian restaurant. It smelled like fresh pasta, garlic, and just the most comforting of scents. It reminded her of Sunday’s making meatballs with her dad and watching sports with her brother and sister.

When her coworker Mitch told her about the place, she thought it was too good to be true. But Mitch knew someone who worked at the restaurant. The owner, Antonio, was looking for a tenant after he informed Mitch’s friend that he was outgrowing the space. It was a generous size. But it was meant for a place to stay and keep watch over the restaurant—max two people and that was pushing it. The little place could not support Antonio, his wife, their first born, and another little one on the way. Four people was too big for this place.

But it was perfect for a girl who loved garlic bread and spaghetti who needed a new place and wouldn’t mind the smell of olive oil all hours of the day.

“How did you find this place?” Eleanor asked, her third-degree questioning tone was present in her voice.

“A friend of a coworker,” Eleanor already knew this.

“Mitch?” She clarified.

“Yes, Mom, Mitch,” she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know how you can be so blasé about all this. It’s serious!” She reminded her. “I’m not even there to protect you.”

She didn’t need to be protected. She had a restraining order. The police in the area were well aware of the situation and she was almost always at home or traveling one day a week to work. If she ran errands, it was always in public spaces. She only ever worked out at a public female-only gym. Plus, she had given Louis her location. All of it was nearly a non-issue. “I don’t even know how I got a stalker,” she muttered grumpily. The whole thing was an inconvenience. If it wasn’t for Eleanor, she probably wouldn’t have even gotten the restraining order.

“You’re too nice,” Eleanor reminded her.

She sighed, tired of the story. It had been almost a year since the creepy sensation of the guy following her had started. Eleanor had approached him on more than one occasion to get rid of him. But the whole thing seemed like a bigger deal than it needed to be. The guy was basically harmless; if not just a little bit more on the creepy side. He couldn’t take the hint that she wasn’t interested and had a hard time letting go. He kept a huge distance from her—she wasn’t even sure she knew the color of his eyes from how far away he followed her. If he was around, she hardly noticed. “Well, I’m moving to a whole new place now so it should be fine now.”

“You didn’t tell anyone else about your address change?”

“Nope, just HR,” she promised. “As far as everyone knows I’m still living in that crummy apartment.”

“Well, maybe this is a blessing that you’re out of there anyway,” Eleanor sighed, relief in her voice. “How do you like this place?”

She smiled dropping the box in the middle of the room before she closed the door and descended the staircase back to her car to grab more boxes. “El, it’s literally perfect. It’s like the apartment of my dreams.”

“How come no one at the restaurant wanted it?”

“When you come visit, we can go and ask all the questions—”

As she entered the alleyway from her apartment entrance she was pushed to the ground. The rattling of glass bottles clinked, clattered, and broke on the pavement. She already felt the bruise forming on her tailbone from landing so hard on the ground. In the process she dropped her phone, and she could hear Eleanor shouting from the speaker. “Ouch,” she muttered.

“Don’t move!” She turned to the sound of the guy in the alleyway with her—he was hurrying to his feet having also toppled to the cold, hard ground. He was wearing all black. Short sleeves even though it was a chillier fall day—showing off an array of tattoos that lined his muscular arms. His black pants had fingerprints and handprints of flour on them. There was something dark colored—probably tomato sauce—dried on the half apron around his hips. He clearly worked in the restaurant. The bag of bottles he was previously carrying ripped open and was broken on the ground. “M’so sorry, Principessa,” his voice was smooth and warm. “Antonio told me y’were moving in today. Should’ve been more careful,” he frowned grabbing her wrists without a thought and hauling her to her feet to get her off the cold ground and away from any broken glass. “M’so sorry,” he repeated making sure she was steadily on her feet. He turned her hands over inspecting them so delicately. Like she was the glass that had broken at their feet. “Are y’alright, Principessa?”

The silence coming from Eleanor on her phone was nearly deafening. She blinked a few times as she gazed at the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life. His hair was the color of melted milk chocolate and looked like it had been sculpted of the very substance into the most unfairly beautiful curls any man should have been allowed to have. His cheeks were smooth except for the stubble lining his incredibly sharp jawline. His lower lip was chapped, and she realized how close she was to face to notice such a thing. Probably from the way he was biting it with the worry that he had hurt her. But they were still very rosy—like pink wine and much like the rest of him, very, very pretty.

He picked up her phone out of the debris. Wiping it on his apron then brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh, God,” she whispered to herself, trying to process the last two minutes. Eleanor was going to lose her mind.

“Uh... m’Harry... She’s fine—I think... Are y’okay, Principessa?” His gaze turned back to her.

It felt like her heart stopped as her eyes connected with the beautiful green ones looking back at her. It was unfair someone like Harry was that pretty.

She nodded, holding her hand out for her phone. He returned it to her immediately and she cleared her throat. “I’m fine, El. Promise.”

“Principessa?!” She gasped. “Oh. My. God.”

“I’ll call you later,” she whispered feeling her face warm as Harry inspected the mess.

“M’sorry, Principessa,” he repeated for a fourth time. If he called her Principessa again though, she might fall right back on her sore tailbone. “Wasn’t expecting you t’come out the door,” he frowned. “Did y’get cut at all?” He asked, scanning her quickly from head to toe. She was dressed for moving on a cool fall day. A chunky sweatshirt, a pair of joggers, and trainers. Her hair was pulled tight to keep out of her face.

She was the furthest thing from looking like the princess that he kept calling her. “Oh...no... I’m alright,” she promised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Don’t apologize, kitten, s’entirely my fault.”

She shook her head rapidly trying to get some neural networks firing. “Really, I’m okay,” she smiled gently. “I should have watched—”

“M’serious, s’my fault,” he interrupted again.

“Harry, what’s the hold—” Antonio entered the alleyway but stopped his train of thought looking at the pair of them. “Oh, hi, tesorino,” he had called her that a lot since he spoke and met with her. “See you’ve met Harry,” he looked at the broken bag and the glass. “Did he hurt you?” He asked.

“No!” Harry glared at him, a frown adorning his pretty lips and a matching pinch between his brows. Harry looked adorable when he was angry. “I didn’t Principessa, did I?” He turned back to her looking apologetic again.

“No, I’m sincerely fine,” she promised shoving her phone into the pocket of her joggers. “I should have watched where I was—”

“No, no, tesorino,” Antonio shook his head. “It’s Harry’s fault. M’sure.” What kind of reality was this? Antonio reminded her of Louis or a much older brother—maybe even a young dad, but not like her dad. She imagined Louis saying the same kind of taunting thing to Eleanor or even herself. It was surreal. A cute guy bumped into her when she was starting fresh. It was like fate—a new start and a new guy. “I’ll get you a broom, Harry. Make sure she’s alright.”

“Yes sir,” he nodded firmly. Antonio disappeared back to the restaurant to get the broom.

“I’m really fine,” she promised.

Harry was smiling now, he bent down to get the big pieces of glass that shattered and carefully placed them on the broken plastic bag. “M’glad, Principessa,” he hummed quietly.

“Uh...” she smiled awkwardly and stepped to the side. “I should get out of the way...” she trailed off and started for the street to gather more of her stuff.

“Here,” Antonio reappeared with a broom and a new bag, passing it off to Harry. “Tesorino, are you sure you’re alright?” Antonio had an Italian accent. It made her smile and even if she was hurt, she was sure that she wouldn’t—couldn’t feel any pain because it was so comfortable being around an Italian restaurant where people worried about her.

“I’m really, truly fine,” she promised.

Harry was quick to pick up all the glass and took a few steps around the area to catch any of the broken pieces. It seemed this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was like she was glued to her spot watching Harry take the collected glass down the alleyway to one of the dumpsters. “Do you need help moving your stuff upstairs?” Antonio asked.

“Oh no, that’s alright, I’m fine—”

“Harry, help her with her stuff,” he ordered, ignoring her brush-off. “Her car is out front.”

Harry handed the broom back to his boss and hurried to the front of the building. “Hey!” She frowned and looked at Antonio. “I don’t need help—”

“Tesorino, please. S’no big deal. Harry would be happy to help.” Harry was already coming back with what she knew was a heavy box labeled ‘kitchen’ and heading for the stairs. Truthfully, she was dreading carrying that one, so she was grateful Harry was literally doing the heavy lifting for her but didn’t want him to feel like he had to. “He helped us move our stuff out already and into our new home,” he shrugged. “Come down for some lasagna for dinner,” he said heading back toward the front.

The entire interaction had left her so completely confused. Harry was beautiful and clearly a cook of some sort in the kitchen of the restaurant. Currently, he was up in her new apartment putting her box in the kitchen. Right as she came to the door to head after him, he bumped into her again, reappearing from the door so quickly, she almost fell right back to the ground. This time, Harry caught her around the waist. “M’sorry, Principessa. I don’t know why I keep getting in y’way,” he frowned.

He released her waist just as quickly as he caught her before heading back for her car. The warmth of his arm around her body lingered as she followed him. “You don’t have to help.”

“S’no problem, kitten,” he shrugged grabbing a box labeled ‘bedroom’ that she knew had an array of random things including an assortment of old CDs, a few pictures, and everything from her nightstand—including a box of condoms. Just the knowledge of knowing he was carrying them was enough to make her face warm. She frowned, hurrying to grab a box herself. “Y’don’t have any friends t’help you?” He asked over his shoulder as he made himself at home coming to stop in front of the second door in the little hall at the top of the steps. Beside her apartment was a second office for the restaurant. Antonio assured her that he was the only person who used it and at this point in time, it was mostly storage. Either way, she didn’t mind. The place was a steal and beyond helpful for her new start. Especially with Eleanor breathing down her neck worrying about her.

“I don’t like to bother people with something I can do myself,” she explained quietly while pushing the door out of the way for Harry to enter—but he waited for her to go first. A silent direction in his eyes as he stood still with the box in his hands. After an awkward pause, she went in first.

Unfortunately, she was compelled to fill the silence with more explanation. “My best friend got a new job—so she’s unavailable. She offered her boyfriend but he’s working. My other friends... no one wants to help move. You know?” She explained. But it was hard to hide the catch in her throat while she spoke. No one wanted to help her.

It was weird to have a conversation with Harry like that. It was a little personal, nothing crazy. But apparently, it divulged enough. “S’unfair, Principessa,” his voice was so gentle. “M’sure you’d help if they asked—or even if they didn’t ask.”

How on earth could some stranger possibly know that about her without so much as speaking for more than ten full minutes? There was a jolt of sadness that washed through her. But she pushed it aside and frowned at the stranger who seemed to read right through her without so much as a second glance. “They would help if I asked,” she murmured. But it felt like sand in her mouth as she said it because she knew it was a lie.

Harry didn’t harp on it though. He glanced around the empty space. “Are y’new to the city?” He asked.

“No... not really,” she shrugged. “I used to live just a couple towns over.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “D’you have a lot more?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, not really. You... you grabbed the heavy kitchen one. So, it should be easy from here on out.”

“Great,” he smiled. “I’ll get Niall, we’ll be done in half an hour.” Harry left her breathless for more than one reason. He hurried back down and stopped outside of the restaurant. She was practically running to catch up.

Dolcezza was written in cursive script above the big window showcasing the beautiful restaurant. Most Italian restaurants always seemed so darkly lit. This one looked so warm and cozy and on the brighter side. It reminded her of her grandparents’ house.

Harry pulled the door open. “Niall!” He shouted. Without waiting for whoever Niall was, Harry turned to her car to grab the next box.

Niall was a little less than half a foot shorter than Harry. His eyes were the color of the sky in the middle of June, and he had an adorable smile. “What’re you doing?” He asked Harry as he walked by with a box. “Hey tesorino,” he winked at her.

“Grab a box,” Harry nodded his head toward the open car and continued for her apartment once more.

What the heck!?

She stumbled to get a box herself and hurried to follow the two guys moving her stuff into her new place. But she had to give credit where credit was due. Harry was right. Thirty minutes, and everything in her car was now in the apartment. Niall headed back to the restaurant without a word, but Harry stayed behind. “D’you need help with anything, kitten?” He asked sweetly.

She couldn’t possibly imagine him helping her more than he already had. “N-no, thank you. That was...really helpful. I can take it from here.”

“Jus’ come grab me from downstairs if y’do think of something, kitten. Antonio won’t mind,” he promised. He smiled at her once more and looked around. His gaze stopped on the tall bookshelf. He walked toward it and looked at each side. He pulled a little bag of screws that were taped to the side and put it in plain view. “Make sure y’anchor that bookshelf before putting books on it. Don’t want it falling on you,” he mentioned kindly. She frowned. In her old place, her bookshelf was recessed into the wall. Having built the new shelf so the movers could take it the other day, she truly hadn’t thought about it. She only taped the little bag to the inside of the shelf so she knew what it belonged to when she created a junk drawer in the kitchen.

“Er... right,” she nodded—unconfidently.

Harry looked her over again, sizing her up, as if he knew she didn’t know how to do that and was too proud to ask. “I’ll come back up before dinner t’do it. D’you have a screw gun and such?”

“I can Google how to do it if I need to,” she assured him knowing that if he didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t do it. “I doubt I can put holes in the wall like that.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t worry, Principessa, I’ll tell Antonio. He won’t argue.”

“It’s really—”

“M’offering myself, kitten. S’nothing t’worry ‘bout. M’happy t’help. S’no trouble at all.”

It was jarring. That was the only way to describe it. It was as if Harry could read her thoughts and see on her face that she didn’t want to trouble someone on her behalf. “Antonio s’not kidding ‘bout lasagna either, Principessa. He’ll want y’down between five-thirty and six. Come down t’eat or he’ll make me come up here t’get you.”

*

“Who was that?” Eleanor asked in greeting as she answered the phone.

“Hi Eleanor, the move has been going well. I’m about to start unpacking boxes and arranging everything. How has your day been?” She answered with an eye roll.

“Shut up, tell me about the guy, principessa,” her voice was nearly hysterical. Her tone was almost mocking with the nickname Harry had bestowed upon her. It made her stomach flip to hear even Eleanor say it.

Sighing, she put her head on the counter of her new kitchen. She eyed the heavy box Harry had put there on the floor. “His name is Harry. He works at the restaurant,” she explained. “Antonio had him help me with all the boxes and stuff, his friend Niall too.”

“I don’t care about that. What does he look like?!” The pause was telling. She knew it. “Wow,” Eleanor sighed. “He is so hot, you’re speechless.”

Rolling her eyes again, she was glad Eleanor couldn’t see her cheeks burning red at the correct assumption. “He’s cute,” she managed.

“Oh puh-lease,” she gasped. “What a cute little story you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren.”

“Can you relax? I talked to him for twenty minutes and mostly about moving.”

“Mostly?!”

“Sweet Jesus,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes trying to think of the fastest way to get rid of her friend from making her crazy. “He correctly identified that I have shitty friends who wouldn’t help me move even if I had asked. He also got his friend Niall to help with the boxes in my car. And when I came back from the storage unit with a second load, they ran out in the middle of a lunch rush to help anyway.”

“You could sell movie rights,” Eleanor sighed dreamily.

She rolled her eyes. “His boss made him help.”

“His boss made him call you principessa too?”

“He called me kitten too.”

“Oh, you’re so going to marry him.”

“I have to unpack my house now.”

“What does he smell like?”

“You are insane.”

There was a knock on her door.

“Wonder who that is,” Eleanor practically sang. She glanced at the stove clock. It wasn’t even five o’clock. Not time to head down for lasagna. After the crazy afternoon she had, she wanted to make sure she didn’t give a reason to the funny cooks and owner downstairs that were helping her a reason to waste their time with her. She truly planned to head down for lasagna as they asked. But part of her thought Harry was joking about the bookshelf.

With the phone still against her ear, she pulled the door out of the way and found Harry. He was not joking. There was a screw gun at his side. “Hi Principessa,” he grinned so brightly it made a dimple in both cheeks appear. “M’gonna anchor y’bookshelf and then take y’down t’get lasagna,” he maneuvered right by her without so much as an okay.

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

Harry turned pausing by the shelf pressed against the wall. “D’you really want me t’leave?” He asked with a frown. “M’sorry. I jus’... really want t’help you, kitten,” he explained. “S’like I need to. S’almost... compulsive... but I’ll leave if y’want me to.”

“Don’t you dare let him leave,” Eleanor said to her ear, her voice was practically a sigh. She and Harry stood feet apart gazing at one another.

But it felt so bad getting help from Harry. “Well...er... if you’re really sure it’s not a bother,” she murmured.

“Not at all, Principessa,” he smiled. “Promise,” he nodded. “S’jus’ a couple minutes and then I’ll bring y’down.”

“Eleanor, I gotta go.”

“I can’t wait to give my maid of honor speech at your wedding.”

She hung up on her friend. Harry was quick. He was shifting the bookshelf away from the wall. He snagged the little package of screws taped to the side. “Can I help?” She asked tossing her phone on the couch.

“I think m’alright, principessa. Thank you,” he said kindly, like he wasn’t doing her a favor by doing this. It was quiet while he worked. At one point he did drop one of the little screws and she was quick to grab it and place it in his hand for him. “Thanks, kitten,” he hummed quietly. His expression was so concentrated as he fixed up the shelf.

It wasn’t much, honestly. She knew that. It was just a bookshelf. But it was somehow so much more. Her heart felt so out of place. Her throat felt tight with emotion bubbling to the surface. No one had ever done anything like this before. A near stranger at that. Probably because it was so much more. It was a worry about her safety which people nearly forgot—unless they were Eleanor and by extension Louis.

She turned away briefly and busied herself with pulling throw pillows from the box labeled living room. Harry hummed quietly to himself. It was soothing. For a moment she forgot about who she was and that she had moved because she had a stalker. If she was a little more vulnerable feeling, she might have cried. It wasn’t the time, but she felt like she had known Harry her whole life. But she had barely spoken more than a hundred and fifty words to him. It was feeling extremely domestic in her new place even though hardly anything was unpacked.

The whole place was one wide open room kitchen and living area. There was a little space she designated for a table for sitting at and along the front wall by the window she planned on putting her desk. There was so much she needed to do. There were three doors along the back wall of the apartment. A bathroom, a bedroom, and a little alcove where a washer and dryer resided. She was lucky the owner lived here previously as she was certain there wouldn’t be a washer and dryer otherwise and that may have deterred her from taking the place. The idea of lugging her laundry up and down the stairs to a laundromat was not something she wanted to do in her late twenties.

“Oh crap,” she frowned. Realizing her state of being at the thought of walking up and down the steps all day.

Harry paused and turned to her. “Y’okay, principessa?” He frowned as well. His eyes looked her over with worry.

“Yeah...no, I just... I have to change before I head down there,” she sighed.

Harry smiled and turned back to his task. He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Oh, y’could go like that, I think y’look beautiful,” he said sweetly.

Her heart rate took off rapidly. She could feel her cheeks warming but she knew her hair was pulled back and little pieces had frizzed and fallen from the elastic. She knew she was sweaty and there was simply no way she looked beautiful.

She snorted awkwardly. “Uh...thank you,” she cleared her throat. “But I would feel better if I changed.”

“I’ll wait outside, then,” he promised. “Jus’ finishing this last bit,” he murmured his attention focused on securing the screws perfectly.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised.

“Take y’time, principessa. M’in no rush,” he stood after finishing the final bit. He stepped back outside the apartment. God, he was nice. It had to be the fastest time she had ever gotten ready for anything. Changing out of comfy clothes and into jeans and a blouse that she would wear to her team meetings, so it didn’t look like she was wearing pajamas to work. She slipped on a pair of the first presentable ankle boots she could find a pair of in the box of shoes that was still unpacked. After she found a clip to pull her hair back in a more presentable fashion.

“Oh, wow,” Harry smiled dreamily as she stepped into the hall and locked her door. “Didn’t know y’could get any more beautiful. In less than five minutes too. M’gonna faint when y’have more than a minute,” he smiled and headed down the stairs as if he hadn’t just stolen her heart.

She was a little surprised he went down the stairs first, but she was grateful because maybe he wouldn’t be able to tell she was shaky and gripping the railing to keep her upright after Harry’s sweet compliment. But she realized it was merely so he could open the door carefully and make sure she wouldn’t bump into someone in the alleyway. Once he decided the alleyway was cleared, he gestured for her to exit first. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“For what, kitten?” He smiled as he closed the door behind him.

“Being helpful and nice. I... I’m not really used to that,” she admitted.

The grin on his face was kind. He shoved his freehand in his pocket and shrugged. “Happy t’help y’principessa,” he winked and headed for Dolcezza, surely to open the door for her first.

“Why did he name it Dolcezza?” She asked following behind him.

Harry smiled and glanced over his shoulder to wink at the pretty girl. “It means sweetness. Antonio met his wife when he was studying business, called her la mia dolcezza. He always wanted t’own a restaurant but never knew what t’name it. He knew the second he met her,” he shrugged. “S’a cute story.”

“Very sweet,” she smiled as she walked by Harry to enter the warm and homey restaurant. She was correct in her assumption that he would hold the door open for her. He chuckled at her joke.

There was something about the girl he literally bumped into and proceeded to fall for instantly physically and emotionally. He wasn’t lying when he said it was compulsive to help her. The warmth he felt inspecting her hands for injury and the worry he felt when she didn’t seem sure of anchoring her bookshelf. The thought that she was just above the restaurant that he nearly lived at more than his own place was comforting. A tug on his heart he didn’t know where it came from but couldn’t help it. Harry had never felt such an emotion like this for someone he had just met. It was like he had known her his whole life and he hadn’t spent more than an hour in total speaking to her. But he wanted to spend forever talking to her now that he had a glimpse of someone so beautiful and gentle.

It took every bit of inner strength for Harry to refrain from telling her he would name every child, every restaurant, anything he could name, he would dedicate to her.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[ma1dita]

Hiii. Can I get one ticket for "and they were brommates". Starring Remus Lupin with a popcorn 🍿 and a chocolate 🍫 please?

hungry like the wolf

[STARRING: REMUS LUPIN x reader ; “Just forget you saw this happen.” “Really? Now? God, you have terrible timing.”  wc: 1.5k warnings: none. remus is a weirdo just as god intended. no plot. he’s also a panty sniffer. kind of a crackfic i wont lie… muggle!reader; title like the duran duran song]

monster mash-terlist

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You’re convinced your new roommate hates you. 

Honestly, it was just your luck that your apartment resident portal matched you with a rando that won’t tell you any details about his home life, the fancy boarding school he went to, or anything he does for work (he’s in law enforcement, he says—though you’ve thrown his worn laundry in the dryer for him before with no evidence of a uniform and he’s always been pretty frugal… maybe he’s a clerk?).

Totally not suspicious at all.

But rent is fucking expensive these days for you to not have a roommate, and he seems nice enough, for now. Remus plays Bowie on his record player in the evenings at respectable volumes, washes the dishes since you hate doing them and always leaves chocolate for you with little notes if he’s going out to see his mother who gets sick a lot.

Plus, he’s pretty handy around the apartment—so much so that a single woman like you can’t complain—he reaches for things on high shelves, carries all your groceries in from the car, and minds his business for the most part until his friends come over—which makes the million dollar question: why doesn’t he live with them? The boys come over and knock down your door, then Sirius and James always drag you out for a pint  instead of leaving you to work on your thesis while the other rat-faced one eats all your snacks and… Remus just sits there with his nose scrunched up not saying anything, always on edge. He just sits uncomfortably at the opposite end of the room all bunched up like he’s ready to run at any given moment.

Maybe he tolerates you at best, a few nods and soft ‘Hello’s are all you get throughout the week. Or maybe you have bad breath? Is that why in the half year you two have lived together you haven’t been together for more than 10 minutes?

What’s worse is that he’s painfully attractive. Like rugged, in a sexy, 2000s male lead in a rom-com sort of way, his thick brows always furrowed and an expression that makes you think that he has something to get off his chest, but he never says more than a handful of words. In short, the only possible reason for your roommate avoiding you is that Remus Lupin hates you with his entire being.

It has to be.

You’re convinced of the fact on a particular Friday night as you hop around the apartment with one boot on, your belt unbuckled, and hair still sopping wet. It’s a rare occasion for you to go out with your own friends and not hole yourself up at home, but the cabin fever is starting to make you itch. Remus has been watching your figure bob around your shared place, eyes bouncing back and forth like a ping pong ball. His scarred hands are gripping his mug tightly as he takes a large sip of tea, terrible posture evident in the way he’s draped over the settee.

“M’going out tonight,” you muse, smiling at him as you walk down the hallway, peeking at your reflection in the bathroom mirror before turning to him. Remus nods politely, “Right. That’s good.” You don’t think you’ve heard him say more than a sentence and so you shrug, leaning against the doorway, “You got plans tonight?”

“Staying in. Feeling a bit under the weather,” he gulps. Remus is tucked under the periwinkle throw blanket you got from TK Maxx for the sofa you both found on Facebook marketplace. He looks cozy, snuggling into the fleece and watching you brush your hair with his tired eyes.

“Aw, Remus. You gonna be alright?”

He sniffs, his face making that pinchy expression again as you come near, “S’all good. You should get going, don’t wanna be late for your…thing.” He doesn’t mean to be rude, but you’re too overwhelming the way you are, your scent permeating through the air even from his spot on the couch and it’s taking all of his willpower to tone down his furry little problem that begs for a taste. He looks away, physically biting his tongue as a reminder.

Now your face scrunches at his reaction, not understanding why he’s so detached from your niceties. Spinning around until your eyes flicker to the mirror and your form, you close the bathroom door gently, before inspecting yourself meticulously. Your outfit is new, and you’ve just sprayed on your favorite perfume earlier… maybe….

You raise an armpit and take a sniff.

Nope. 

What the fuck is this guy’s problem?

After a small pep talk, you swing the door open and step out. Surely, he’ll tell you what’s wrong if you ask him upfront. Sure, it might be ill-timed to get into a conversation that might make or break your living arrangement right before you go out to the club with your friends, but as you’re pacing down the hall you think there is no better time to do it. It would eat at you all night and ruin your fun, after all.

The living room is empty now, blanket folded over and draped on the ottoman and you swivel towards the other end of the hall, “Remus?” you call out meekly. So much for confidence. He’s probably went to bed, or again he just hates you. 

There’s a slight chill when you stick your hand out the window, so you make your way over to the laundry room where you left your leather jacket last, and when you go to flick the light on—-

There stands your lovely roommate, sniffing a black polka-dotted pair of your panties.

“WHATTHEFUCK?” “MERLIN!”

You’re pointing at each other, mouths gaping in shock as he backs towards the washing machine as he chokes on his spit, face as red as a tomato, “I can explain!’

“Oh you better! I….” you blurt, scanning the room for a weapon and swinging the bottle of detergent at his head, “Talk, freak!”

“I thought you LEFT ALREADY!”

The look on your face is more mortified than he thought it would be but how does he explain that every inch of this place smells of you? Your pheromones reek from your pores like a sultry perfume and he can’t get enough, unconsciously walking closer like a cartoon character hypnotized by the smell of pie. Stumbling over a discarded piece of clothing, he staggers back as you get in his face and whack him in the chest, once with your hand and then twice with your jacket you were looking for.

“You—fucking—weirdo!”

Remus flinches, raising his arms against your attack, “Godric, just forget you saw this happen, please—OW!” Eyes fixed in a glare, you stand in front of him with a finger prodding at his chest, “Give that back!”

“They’re clean!”

Your hands wrench the cotton out of his hands and hold them close to your chest, “They’re NOT! Lie to me again and I swear I’ll call the police!” The sandy-haired man throws his head back seemingly in laughter and you purse your lips, realizing that he is the police, in some sorts. Unless that’s a lie too.

“I can’t believe this is happening to me,” Remus grumbles as he takes a deep breath, “Let me explain, I… I can’t help it. You smell too good.”

What the fuck.

From the way your eye is twitching and how your chest is heaving as you clutch your panties, he knows it’s not a good enough response but fuck there’s a lot on the line here, and he doesn’t know where to start, “I…fucking hell, I’m a werewolf, okay?”

“Really? Now? God, you have terrible timing.” 

Remus blinks slowly, and you laugh at him, jaw still tense but at least you’re laughing at him, “I mean really, you have to come up with better excuses—I kinda had a hunch after our 3rd full moon and you left to go see your mom. Is she even really sick? You’ve giving the woman bad karma.”

He shakes his head, jaw gaping at how nonchalantly a muggle is taking this news. Shouldn’t you be running away in fear by now? Clearing his throat, “Um, yeah. So your pheromones,” he sniffs, “smell really, really good to me. Like a seven layer chocolate cake. I think our cycles are matched up.”

Is that his idea of a joke?

At least he doesn’t hate you, you reason, slowly closing the door to the laundry room behind you with a quirk in your lip, “I thought I smelled bad or something, with the way you look at me.”

“I think my face just looks like this. M’sorry. You’re not scared?”

He’s closer to you now, arms circling your frame like a predator on the prowl, waiting for you to make a move. But you step closer to him, baring your neck and giving him permission to eat you up if he wishes. Licking your lips, you whisper, “James almost blew up my cellphone with his wand last week when I tried to show him a Youtube video. You’re all weird ones, aren’t you?”

“That okay?” 

The silence in the small room feels reverent now, his fingers pressing against your wrists as he holds them at your waist—voice so low it makes you shiver.

“I didn't say it was a bad thing.”

Hopefully he can think of a way to make it up to you. But the way you let him graze his nose up your arm and back you against the door as he takes a big, deep inhale….is a good start.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

ma1dita's monster mash is closed for requests but ongoing for the rest of october!

[little-pondhead]

[inspired roughly by this post. My brain snails started going nuts so I thought it'd be easier to post this separately :)]

…

It was a lovely day in Gotham. Well, as lovely as it could be. The sun was up, peeking through the overhead cloud cover and making the buildings gleam in the rare sunlight. The air was fresher than usual, and faucets ran clear of strange and unusual toxins.

Somewhere in the Upper East Side, in a little neighborhood tucked away from the rest of the city, marched around the new boss of the area. She was a young girl, just barely in high school. But despite it being the middle of a work day, she wandered around her chosen streets, content to do whatever she wanted. Above her, a pair of siblings watched on and discussed the unique situation.

"So let me get this straight: that fourteen-year-old goth girl is a crime boss?"

Mia smiled at Leon, her older brother, and his dumbfounded expression as they rested on her balcony. "She's fifteen, actually. Her birthday just passed. We all got together and threw a block party for her!"

"You know how insane that sounds, right?" Leon turned to her, a bit miffed that she dared to say those words to his face. "She's a kid. Why do you all listen to her?"

Mia shrugged and sipped her beer. "She does good work. Holds her own pretty well, and the kid has connections. Good ones, too. That can be the difference between life and death in Gotham."

Leon rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I just don't get it. How did she end up in this line of work? Do child labor laws even apply here?? Why aren't the Bats doing anything?"

"Don't think about it too much, dipshit." Mia crushed her now-empty beer can in her hand and tucked it into a paper garbage bag hanging off of a hook on the balcony rail. A familiar set of green arrows was printed on the side.

"And now you're recycling?!" Leon realized. "When did you start doing that, Mia??"

The woman shrugged and got up, stretching. "Probably around the time Brambles absolutely reamed out Mrs. Zalinski for littering at the park."

"Wait, who's Brambles?" Leon scrambled upright and followed his sister inside.

Mia laughed. "Brambles is our fifteen-year-old crime boss!"

...

"I can't believe you got a cool name right off the bat," Danny grumbled, flopping onto Sam's bed face-first. Sam smirked and shoved him off with her foot. Danny just squawked and let himself ragdoll to the ground.

"It's your fault for not having a better gimmick." She said to his prone body. "Besides, it could've been worse."

"I think Inviso-Bill is the worst possible nickname for anyone." Danny groaned. "But you got something cool immediately. Who even thought up 'Brambles'? That's such a unique name!"

"Well the kids call you Grim; that's pretty cool."

Danny flopped over, twisting himself much farther than any human was supposed to just so he could glare at her face. "They only call me that cause one of the is obsessed with Harry Potter." He grumbled, pouting.

Sam just rolled her eyes and went back to sorting through piles of papers scattered all across her duvet. Since moving to Gotham several months ago, Sam had taken it upon herself to turn the experience into something useful rather than just moping all the time, as she originally wanted to. That 'something useful' had landed her as the newest crime boss in Gotham, with about a third of the Upper East Side as her current territory.

So many problems had popped up in the last year, and the group had decided that taking it on alone would never work. The GIW had been trying to close Amity's borders, Danny's parents had a scientific breakthrough, tensions in the Realms were high, etc. There was a lot on their plate! Sam's solution was to create a foothold in Gotham City. She would lay the foundations for Jazz to work in Arkham and forge a safer environment for the residents of Amity Park to sneak off to if the GIW went too far. She was essentially weaving a cushion for everyone to fall back on.

Danny, using the power of duplication, was splitting his focus between foiling his parent's plans and resolving issues with his rouges to create a united front. He was the main distraction, and Sam's own heavy hitter when she needed help establishing dominance.

Tucker planned to gather intel with the help of Technus and Jazz. They were trying to gather as much evidence as possible so they'd be in the clear when the whistle blew. The GIW would crash and burn, legally speaking. They were the bugs of the operation, spreading themselves thin and hoarding information like it was candy.

Dani was their wild card, their jester. She was keeping the JLD's attention focused solely on her and all the supernatural hijinks she was stirring up. When the time was right, she'd point them in the direction needed and let them loose. After winding them up so much, the hope was that the Justice League Dark would descend upon the GIW like hellfire.

But those were their future plans. Right now, Sam was in possession of specific files from Arkham Asylum and the GCPD. She was looking for anything to give her an edge in the upcoming meeting with a few other crime bosses. Some annual thing they host to renew Goonion contracts, see who's still alive, and examine how much the territory lines have changed. Stuff like that. Red Hood was supposed to be there, and she knew she needed an ironclad defense against him and his nosy colony of Bats.

Danny untwisted himself all of a sudden, making a weird face. "Sorry, got to go." He apologized. "Vlad just showed up to my house."

Sam waved him off. "Go, I'll be fine for today. Just be on time for the meeting on Friday. And I want you, not a double."

"You got it!" Danny did finger guns at her and promptly melted into a pile of green goo. Right on her bedroom floor!

Sam sighed and got up to throw a towel over the puddle. The ectoplasm would evaporate eventually, returning to the original Danny little by little. But for now, this would keep anyone from asking about it until it was all gone.

Sometimes she really hated living in student dorms. People always felt the need to burst into her room for no reason.

Who even made dorm rooms for high schoolers in the first place??

...

Jason couldn't help but stare at the new recruit.

Well, 'new recruit' wasn't exactly accurate. 'Potential to be the most headache-inducing supervillain' was more like it. Standing at a solid 5'10" with platform boots, Brambles, the newest crime lord who had taken over half of the Upper East Side in under four months, was almost tall enough to look him in the eye straight on. Which she tried to do anyways, tilting her chin up oh-so-slightly (in that stupid way aristocrats do when they want to look down at you) and glaring at him with open hostility.

Brambles was young, way too young to be in this line of business. At the start of the annual underground crime meeting (yes, they couldn't come up with a better name), she had announced that she was fifteen, went by she/her, and would snap the dick off of anyone who looked at her funny. Most everyone laughed at her, thinking it was an empty threat. Brambles proved it wasn't by sucker-punching a younger lieutenant who tried to get handsy with her five minutes into the meeting.

When the lieutenant's boss protested and threatened a gang war, Brambles had snapped her fingers and summoned what could only be a fucking pit demon from the depths of hell to threaten the man back. The creature looked like a teenager, just like Brambles, at first. But it was...off. The longer you looked, the worse it got.

It wore a draping black cloak that covered most of its body, with the ends turning to mist when it reached the floor. It had a pale, young face and white hair. Its eyes glowed just like Brambles', except they were a toxic green that made Jason's heart skip a beat in fear. The creature was snarling, with a fucking muzzle on it to keep its sharp teeth away from wandering fingers.

With a nod from Brambles, the creature bounded forward and knocked the guy to the floor, its arm elbow-deep into the guy's chest. The dude looked terrified, and a little sick "Would you rather lose a lieutenant or your life?" She had snarled, sounding almost a bit demonic herself. The other boss had backed down without another word, writing off his subordinate as dead and gone.

Instead of killing the guy, however, Brambles simply banished her little guard dog to a corner of the warehouse to play with its new toy in peace.

"Is she allowed to do that?" Someone whispered.

"They weren't unionized, so the Goonion won't say anything." Another answered.

It was the most awkward meeting in the history of the criminal underworld. No one even died since they were all focused on the newcomer.

Jason could feel a headache forming as the meeting came to an end. Brambles was still sitting in her chair. The creature had grown bored of its toy and was leaning against her, sprawled out lazily and barely flicking an ear at the onlookers in acknowledgment. A few people were idling around her, mostly women, trying to talk some big game and get on the kid's good side. Brambles was humoring them, taking tight control of the conversation when they got too prying.

Jason sighed. He knew he'd have to go over and have a talk with the kid, even if it was just for Bruce's files. He hauled himself upwards and stalked over. "Pardon me, ladies and gents, but I'm going to borrow the kiddo here for a moment."

The creature hissed at him, tensed at his approach. Brambles kept a tight grip on the back of its muzzle, keeping it grounded. The other criminals scattered like flies. They were the only two (three?) left in the warehouse within minutes.

Bramble rose to glare at him. "What." She spat. "If you're here to convince me not to get involved with anything, I will set Grim on your ass after lighting it on fire."

The creature, Grim, growled in agreement. The sound echoed strangely like he was hearing it from underwater.

"Relax, I'm not here to do any of that." Jason raised his hands in surrender, immediately abandoning that possible line of thought. "I'm just here to talk business. You're young, and while you don't want to admit it, inexperienced."

"Stop the fancy words, Red Hood." Brambles' eyes glowed again, and she released her hold on Grim's muzzle. "If you want to make a deal, say it to my face. If you're here to dig for information, either ask me or hit the road. I prefer honesty over flower talk, so tell me what you want before I take over your area, too."

Jason bristled. His vision was tinted green as he snapped, "What the fuck is your problem, kid?! I just wanted to make sure you were safe and not being forced to do this. I was even going to offer my support and protection if it was too much! I know you aren't going to stop, but that doesn't mean I want a kid to die just because they got into something they shouldn't and they think their fancy guard dog will always be there to protect them!"

Brambles' eyes stopped glowing, and her stare softened a bit. Grim went deadly still, just floating there, staring at Jason. His heart beat like crazy in his chest. What was he saying? It was all true, but he could've been nicer about it. Dick would've found a way to be nicer.

-krrrk- "Ibis, reporting in. I think you can trust him, guys. Even if he's a Bat, his connections and experience would be useful in our plans. Ibis out." -krrrk-

Jason flinched from the sudden noise, looking around to find the source. It sounded like it had come from everywhere, even inside his own helmet. Brambles immediately switched out her hostile look for an annoyed one, tapping an earpiece he hadn't noticed before.

"Ibis, you really have to stop opening up our comm lines to the public." She snapped, but there was no real heat to it. "And I thought I told you to stop eavesdropping!"

-krrrk- "Sorry, can't help it. I'm everywhere now! You shouldn't have given me this power." -krrrk-

Grim hissed.

-krrrk- "Don't hiss at me, young man! You were the one who suggested this!" -krrrk-

"I'm sorry, time out!" Jason made a T with his hands. The green from his vision had completely disappeared now. "What the FUCK is going on now?"

Brambles sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know what? Fine. We'll trust you. My name is Sam. Nice to meet you, Jason Todd."

Jason stepped back, immediately reaching for his gun. Grim darted forward and promptly flew through him, stealing all his weapons in one go. "I'm Danny!" Grim-Danny?-chirped in a human voice, giving him a shit-eating smile. "Sorry for the act, Mr. Hood. And sorry about the name drop, I'm the one that told them."

-krrrk- "I'm Tucker! There are more of us, but they're busy. I have literally so many questions for you, Mr. Hood." -krrrk-

"Now that introductions are over-Danny don't eat his smoke bombs, you're not gonna look like Dorathea-we'd like your help."

Jason squinted at them. "You understand this is all suspicious as fuck, right? And how did a pit demon find out who I am?"

-krrrk- "Yeah, we know. But lives are on the line here, and I think you'd really be a help!" -krrrk-

Brambles-Sam-sighed and pulled out a flash drive. "I was going to use this as leverage, but I guess it'll have to be useful in other ways." She tossed it to Jason, who numbly caught it. "Look over it if you want. If you don't, then just burn it. Do not try to plug it into the Batcomputer. Don't try to send it to the Batcomputer, either. A virus will target that specific IP address as soon as it makes contact. Any other computer is fine."

"Look it over, and we can go from there," Danny added, spinning in midair while chomping on one of Jason's knives. (His good one, too!) "And I'm not a pit demon, but I am dead. That's how I knew about you. Whatever brought you back to life gave the Realms a real headache for a while. It wasn't hard to look you up in the records."

"This is so much information. Lives are on the line? And two, three kids are dealing with it? By becoming crime bosses?"

-krrrk- "Technically, Sam's the only crime boss here. And that was kind of an accident. She was supposed to create a safe foothold in Gotham in case we needed to evacuate our town. But we all got cool nicknames out of it! And you're the only adult we've told this stuff to!" -krrrk-

"I'm what?"

"The only adult." Sam's unwavering gaze seemed to pierce his soul. "There are quite literally no other adults that can help, Red Hood. None that we trust, not really. Any adult intervention needs to be planned carefully so it doesn't backfire on us. We're trusting you here, Jason. Not only are you like us, which technically puts you in danger too, but you have power and connections to support a whole town of people the government wants to eradicate."

Jason looked at the little green flash drive in his hand. He didn't want to ask. "And this...?"

"A fruit basket," Sam said simply. "Originally, it was supposed to be blackmail. But instead, this is a present to show our goodwill and faith. To show you our skills. That drive contains information on other gangs, upcoming rogue attacks, chemical breakdowns of Joker Venom and Fear Gas, unfinished antidote formulas, etc. Tucker and his team scoured the underbelly of Gotham and gathered dirt on every single prominent figurehead. Including Bruce Wayne, should you choose to use it."

"I would never-"

"But you've thought about it." Danny cut in and scratched his neck. Jason's hands shook. "It's not a bad thing. It's just the nature of the dead. Wanting to right the wrongs left over from their time with the living. Even if you walk and breathe now, that doesn't mean desire disappears."

"The point is, we need help. Even if I'm loathe to admit it." Sam rolled her eyes, and suddenly, Jason didn't see a potential supervillain in the making. He saw a teenager trying her best, shouldering the responsibility of hundreds of people, both in Gotham and her hometown. Danny looked the same, no matter how other-worldly he was. What battles were they facing? Why weren't there any adults to turn to? What kind of lives were they leading if they immediately trusted a known crime lord with their lives upon the first meeting?

"I'll think about it." Jason finally said. Danny trilled in excitement, and some tension bled out of Sam's shoulders. "If the situation is bad enough, however, I'm calling in someone else for help."

Danny shrugged. "As long as it ain't Batman! I don't think he'll appreciate us smuggling a town of liminals into his city."

Sam poked Danny's shoulder, prompting him to look at her. "Let's go, before you break his brain with more info-dumping. Bye Red Hood!"

"Uh, yeah. Goodbye!" Jason stuttered. He watched the two kids walk towards the exit door, before shimmering out of sight before they even touched the handle.

What the fuck.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

TW: intrusive thoughts (regarding falling to death, including picturing himself and other people dying from a fall as well as their corpses. Also a quick blink and you miss it allusion to how these thoughts impact Tim's relationship with food)

Welcome to unreliable narrator central. I have a lot of thoughts on the Tim/Jason dynamic. This is not very Jason friendly btw because Dick will always be Tim's Robin (after all, Jason was the replacement first)

To Tim, the most notable thing about Jason is that he isn't Dick. Maybe that changed over time, although I am not sure about that. He is stubborn as fuck and he needs a way to rationalize illogical emotions. He also hates being wrong.

The Flying Graysons are the ones to invade his dreams every night. Whenever he is high up, he can't help but want. Not really, of course (of course not, of course of course), but he knows that the closest he will ever get to being them is falling down and down and down. Sometimes he thinks about Dick and it almost feels worth it. He just wants to know what they were thinking, if it hurt, what they saw and what they felt before they became nothing at all. He is terrified of heights and always makes sure to sit at the window. Loves letting his legs dangle down the edge.

Sometimes he notices how weird arms look, or how long neck are, or how crooked his knee is, or how unnatural their bodies contorted when they fell on the ground. Is it exaggerated, in his mind? It must be, but he doesn't think so. If only his elbow was just a bit higher up maybe he wouldn't feel so wrong. He has managed to find a video of the night, downloaded it before it got taken down. He doesn't watch it, but just knowing it is there makes him feel oddly secure. He avoids mirrors on some days, as well as food.

(They look so elegant, even as they are falling. Weightless, as if their bones were hollow)

The clip with the quadruple somersault goes into the same folder as the fall. He wants to re-watch it, but it feels wrong without seeing the other video, too, and he can't bear to see that one. What if the night is different from how he remembers? Or worse, what if it is exactly the same?

Tim only became truly obsessed with the bats when he realized that Robin is Dick. Robin and Batman are symbols, larger than life, inhuman. To Tim, Dick has been just that for even longer, fulfilling his role even before he first hit the streets. That hug, a ray of light just before the tragedy that will reshape Tim's worldview forever. Of course Dick Grayson is Robin, it could never be anyone else.

Robin can do a quadruple somersault, something barely anyone in the world is capable of. Robin isn't a person. He is so much more. Even more than Robin, Dick is so much more.

Jason is a person. He can not do the somersault. And yet he wears his colors and pretends to fly.

It shakes up one of the foundations of his entire worldview, even though he has no right to it, even though he knows it shouldn't. And he hates hates hates hates it (not that he admits it. He doesn't know why he feels so strongly the first time he sees the other boy playing dress up. Heavy and down to earth and not at all what Robin is supposed to be. He just knows that he sees Dick flying and Jason falling falling falling-)

(it feels wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong)

Tim is honest when he says he doesn't want to be Robin. They have debates about vigilantism in boarding school, about the dangers of serving justice and revenge outside of the law. There is no one more fallible and human than him, and vigilantes aren't allowed to be like that. To make mistakes. To be so fascinated by death. By falling. Sometimes he can feel the wind against his cheeks as he sits in the classroom, windows closed in the winter.

(Dick's anger is - like everything else - elegant. It feels purposeful, even when it isn't. It is not like Jason's rage, that feels so close to his own.)

Tim was there on the day that Dick's parents were murdered and a part of him will stay stuck there forever. He is good at recognizing patterns. He knows where Dick got the inspiration for the costume and he can't help but resent Jason for taking it away from him. From taking Dick away from Gotham, from Tim. And he knows these thoughts are obsessive and weird but he can't help it. And isnt that Di- Robin's job anyways? To be a source of comfort and hope?

He resents Jason, but a shameful part of him is grateful because Robin has never been so close to touch. Jason is human and that means he can fall. The thoughts get worse after Dick (his hero, his hope, the beacon that can guide him away from the hellscape that is his brain) is gone. His arms were so thin when they wrapped around him, so many years ago. He looks at Jason and sees a mangled corpse. He researches what the impact does to a body and applies it to John and Mary and Jason and himself.

(Not Dick. Never Dick. Richard Grayson is Robin, he would never do something as human as to fall)

(he regrets researching)

Dick is bright and large and beautiful. He is a true Robin, always defying gravity, always flying. It is a betrayal, in a way, to put a human being in the costume. A part of him is not surprised when Jason dies. A bigger part of him can't help feeling it is his fault. It's ridiculous of course - he doesn't have the powers to do so, he isn't Dick. Jason didn't even fall to his death. But he remembers all those visions- Jason, limbs contorted in ways that shouldn't be possible; Jason, bones breaking through skin; Jason, hair glued together by bits of brain. And all the while Dick is flying, higher and higher and all the way in space

[dragoneyes613]

When I was a child (and my daughter after me), every little girl in Hebrew school wanted to dress up as Queen Esther for the Purim holiday. What could be better than pretending to be the beautiful queen who manages to save the Jewish people in her realm from annihilation? It meant wearing rouge and lipstick, high-heeled shoes, and a crown that shone with sparkles.

Then a funny thing happened. As an adult I found myself, along with other Jewish women, suddenly uneasy with that schoolgirl idealization of Esther. She was, after all, a beauty queen. She had been chosen in a beauty contest from among all the maidens in the land of Persia to be consort to King Ahasuerus. All she seeme to have was good looks, and those alone, we had decided, were no longer enough to gain a woman admiration. To make matters worse, Esther was the quintessential "good Jewish girl," following the advice of her cousin and guardian Mordecai - not much of a model for women trying to assert themselves in a world long dominated by men.

A more exciting model was the king's first wife, Vashti, often ignored in the holiday fun and fantasy. As the Purim story goes, King Ahasuerus gave a seven-day feast for all the men in his capital city of Shushan. Vashti held a separate banquet for women, but on the seventh day, the king, heavy with wine, ordered her to appear at his party. He wanted to flaunt her beauty (some say in the raw) before his subjects. Vashti refused to show, and the incensed king had her deposed (some say beheaded).

Vashti became our ideal because she had pride and the gumption to stand up for herself, even before a king. Not only that, her act of defiance so threatened male authority that the king sent word of her punishment throughout his empire to teach all wives to respect their husbands. How could sweet, submissive Esther hold a candle to this strong-minded woman?

Well, she could, some of us have more recently decided. Over time, we've tempered our reactions. While we're pleased to have reclaimed Vashti as a feminist hero, we're ready to reinstate Esther as Purim hero - not because of her beauty but because of her braininess and courage.

The test of Esther's character began when Ahasuerus appointed Haman prime minister of Persia. Haman expected everyone to bow down to him, but as a Jew, Mordecai refused to do so. In retaliation, Haman convinced the weak-willed king to issue a decree of destruction against all the Jews in his realm. "there is a certain people...whose laws are different from those of any other people" (Esther 3:8), Haman had warned the king, in an anti-Jewish diatribe that has been repeated many times in history and in many lands, like Persia, in which Jews thought themselves safe.

Devastated by the king's decree, Mordecai looked to Esther to intercede for her people.

Esther risked her life to do so. On Mordecai's orders, she had never revealed her Jewish identity to the king, lest he reject her. She knew also that anybody who entered the king's presence without being summoned was subject to death. That she hesitated to approach him was understandable. That she was able to devise and implement the plan she did was remarkable.

"If I am to perish, I shall perish!" Esther said, as she went about her mission of salvation (Esther 4:16). She began by asking Mordecai to call a three-day fast for all the Jews of Shushan. The midrash related that the fast was scheduled for the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth of Nisan. Mordecai objected that it would coincide with the first day of Passover, to which Esther wisely responded, "Old man, if there is no Israel, why should there be a Passover?" The fast took place.

Now Esther set a trap for Haman that would have made Machiavelli proud. She invited the king and Haman to two banquets. Later sages conjectured that she hoped to arouse the king's jealousy by including the minister at the feast. She was also lulling Haman into complacency, making him to self-satisfied to suspect a thing. In this she followed the lead of Judith, who managed to cut off the head of Holofernes by cleverly gaining his confidence. Women may not have had much power in ancient times, but they knew how to use their wits to win the day.

Esther won a great victory with her plot. At the second feast, she denounced Haman to Ahasuerus as a schemer set on destroying her people. In what may be the most amusing scene in all of Scripture, we see the king, furious at Haman, step out of the room. Haman prostrates himself over Esther's couch, pleading with her for his life. The king returns and in a jealous rage (as Esther planned), believes Haman istrying to rape his wife. Within seconds, the king orders Haman hung on the very gallows he had prepared for Mordcai.

In memory of Esther's trial, the thirteenth of Adar, the day before Purim, was declared a fast day, Ta'anit Esther, the "Fast of Esther." It displaced an earlier holiday that celebrated Judah Maccabee's defeat of a Syrian general, Nicanor.

For her courage and cleverness, also, Esther had an entire book named for her, Megillat Esther, the Scroll of Esther Only one other biblical book bears a woman's name, the Book of Ruth, which tells of yet another decisive, directed woman - but that is a tale for a different holiday.

The Scroll of Esther is read in synagogue on Purim eve and again the next morning, and all - men, women, and children - are obligated to hear it. Children stamp their feet and twirl their graggers, noisemakers, whenever Haman's name is mentioned, and they dress in costumes, as original as their imaginations dictate. But mostly, every little girl still prefers to  be Queen Esther.

-Jewish Days: A Book of Jewish Life and Culture Around the Year, Francine Klagsburn, pages 103-104

[stansthemans]

Yall my fem stan brain rot is so bad rn. I just looked at my wips. 78k for fem Stan. 4k for dude Stan. lol oops anyway here’s some more

Sometimes it feels embarrassing to ask, like she really is still a child. But Ford never denies her, even when he’s really busy with some project or studying for some exam. Stan knows how important those things are to him, and even though she thinks he needs to relax about it—he’s miles ahead of everyone else at school, even the teachers—she doesn’t want to drag him away from it unless one of them really needs it.

Today, it’s her.

Nothing has gone right today. She actually tried her own homework, like really tried, not just half assed it or copied Ford’s. Predictably, she beefed it, and her teacher actually took the time to call her out in front of the entire class. She tripped on the way to English class, bruising her knee and sending all her shit flying. She hadn’t been fast enough gathering it all up, and she got a tardy. One of her gloves busted at boxing practice, and she hasn’t yet had the guts to tell Pa because she knows he’s going to blow a gasket at having to buy a new one. Dinner was an icy affair. Shermie had apparently called and he and Pa got into it about something. Then, cleaning up the kitchen, Ma had taken out her frustration on Stan.

Stan is glad it wasn’t Pa. She’s always glad when it isn’t him and not just because hiding the bruises has recently gotten much harder. But it still doesn’t make it nice when Ma locks a sharp, critical gaze onto Stan and picks apart everything that’s wrong with her. Too loud and opinionated. How is she ever supposed to catch a man if she’s got the crazy idea that she’s allowed to think anyone cares to hear what she has to say? Not to mention her waistline. The extra dough in the middle—she had pinched Stan’s side here—that Stan certainly didn’t inherit from her. And still with the boxing? It really was high time to stop that brutish, unladylike nonsense.

As if she doesn’t know exactly why Stan needs to keep it up, needs the easy excuse to hide behind.

As soon as she’s able, Stan retreats to the bathroom. It takes a good couple of minutes for the water to heat up, so while she waits, Stan strips down and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She isn’t vain, she doesn’t think. She doesn’t wear any makeup, doesn’t do much more to her hair than run a brush through the waves to manage any tangles. She doesn’t care about trendy clothes or the latest styles. A pair of jeans or shorts, depending on the season, a simple t-shirt, and some high tops. That suits her fine.

She isn’t stick skinny like her mother or a lot of girls at school. She isn’t fat either, not even really that chubby. She’s just kind of thicker. And she’s got muscles from boxing. Not much by way of hips.

How are these ever supposed to bear a child? Any nice boy at the temple, any potential mother-in-law worth their salt, they’ll be looking for that. Hips like these, bad figure elsewhere too. She doesn’t have the looks enough for any good husband to overlook all the other things wrong with her.

Stan steps under the stream of water, hoping that it’s warm enough to wash her mother’s words off her skin.

It isn’t. It never is.

Ford is deep into whatever assignment when she comes into their room, deep enough that he doesn’t look up and watch from the corner of his eye while she changes into pajamas. He’s been doing that for a really long time, but he’s been a little more obvious about it the past few months, and every time it sends a thrilling jolt down Stan’s spine. But he isn’t looking right now, and that makes her feel even worse, despite the fact that he doesn’t look every time and that he’s clearly fully immersed in his textbook.

Stan folds her arms over her stomach, leaning up against their dresser as she watches him. He isn’t hunched too badly, despite how into his work he is. She’s glad to see that at least. The way his spine will pop when he stretches out sometimes really isn’t right for a sixteen year old boy. He took a shower while she was still cleaning up after dinner, and his hair, much shorter than hers, looks so soft and puffy in its freshly cleaned state. His eyes are sharply focused on the textbook, even as his pen dances over his notebook in his neat, looping writing.

He’s so deep into his work, but Stan’s heart is aching too much to keep standing there or even to go curl up in her bunk alone. She steps over to the bookcase. Over the years it’s changed a lot. More and more space is taken up with Ford’s textbooks and scientific journals and less and less their treasures found while out exploring or their comics. Still, there is a small section of novels. Stan picks up one of the most worn down and shuffles over to the desk.

“Hey, Sixer,” she asks, and Ford hums in acknowledgment. “I know you’re real busy.”

“Yes,” Ford says, but not dismissively. “I’m writing that proposal to send in to the Rutgers field office. I told you about that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Stan says, hugging the book to her chest. “Big deal if they take it, right? Maybe get this dump cleaned up some.”

“That’s the hope,” Ford says. “And it will make an excellent addition to my academic portfolio.”

“Yeah,” Stan says again. “Yeah, it’ll be real good.”

The pen stops moving on the paper, and Stan presses her lips together as Ford looks up. His eyes flash as he takes her in, and he opens his mouth. Stan can’t have him ask her what’s wrong because she just can’t, so quickly she blurts, “I know you’re busy but—“ And she shoves their battered old copy of The Hobbit in his direction.

Ford leans back in his seat, almost jumping a bit. She isn’t standing close enough that the book would have smacked him in the face, but it is a close thing. He blinks at it and then again up at her. Stan thinks she must cut a very pathetic figure, but she also doesn’t care in that moment.

Ford studies her with a furrowed brow for only a brief moment before he stands up. He takes the book with one hand and lightly touches her cheek with the other. “Sure,” he says. “I’m at a decent stopping point for the night.”

He absolutely isn’t. Stan wouldn’t understand anything about his proposal if she picked it up to read it, but she knows that he’s lying and going along with her, and she’s so grateful for that. Ford neatens up his work while Stan arranges the pillows and blankets on her bunk. He crawls in after her, and they find a comfortable way to lie tangled up together. Ford opens the book and begins to read aloud.

They both loved this book so much as kids. It wasn’t on the ocean, but it was fantastical adventures fill with daring fights and golden treasure. It was odd, out of place, little people who were still heroes in a big, big world. Sometimes, Stan would read too, picking a couple of the characters that she wanted to voice, often sillily to make Ford laugh. But usually, it would just be Ford reading, them lying together just like this, his voice low, breath ghosting over the top of her head.

It’s soothing. It is. The knots in Stan’s stomach are beginning to loosen, but she still feels heavy in an unpleasant way. As the party reaches Rivendell, Stan decides that she needs more than this, and she hopes Ford is willing to give it.

“Ford,” she asks, and he stops. Stan knows that he can tell she’s about to say something important. She really doesn’t use his name very often.

“Yes, Stanley?”

“Can you do me a favor,” she asks.

“Of course,” he says. “What do you need?”

Need. Because this isn’t a want. She needs this, or she thinks she might shake apart, and Ford doesn’t have to know any details to know that much.

Stan shifts against him just a bit, changes the way she’s lying against him just slightly. Then she reaches up for his hand that was scratching lightly at her scalp. She brings it down her body, under her shirt, and lies it over her breast. Despite being a bit bigger in her upper body, Stan really doesn’t have large breasts. Ford’s big hand covers it completely, and the feeling starts to unwind some of the tension that his voice couldn’t cut through.

Under her, Stan can feel his breath pick up a bit. They haven’t done this outside of her periods before. For the past several months, that’s been the excuse. Ford touching her like that is just him helping her through the very real discomfort of what that week puts her through. And if—when—they do other things, well, they’re hormonal teenagers. Hormones can be such crazy things, overwhelming sometimes. Overwhelming enough to forget the very important fact that they are siblings. Twins. And then when the cramps and aches are over, they go back to being normal.

This isn’t normal. This is outside of that very specific set of parameters where they have decided it’s ok for them to act in ways that they never should have even considered. But Ford’s hand is on her now, skin to skin, and it’s warm and it’s safe.

After a moment, Ford squeezes at her, something questioning, and Stan, her hand still over his, squeezes back and says lowly, “No. Just this.”

“You just want me to hold it,” Ford asks, his voice just as low.

Stan nods. “I just—it’s comforting,” she says.

In a whisper, against her hair, Ford says, “I can feel your heart beating. More than usual.”

He doesn’t need to touch her to feel that, just like she doesn’t have to touch him. It’s always there, right alongside hers, has been for their entire lives. Two hearts beating side by side.

Ford sets the book down in his lap. He doesn’t take his hand away from her, doesn’t move it at all, but his other reaches for her cheek, turning her gently to face him. And then he does something that they also have not done outside of her periods. He brings his lips to hers. Stan sighs against him, lightly dragging her fingers over all six of his before curling around his wrist.

Ford pulls back just slightly. “Whatever Ma said, she was wrong,” he says, and Stan could cry, but his hand is resting directly over her heart, and it keeps her grounded. He kisses her again, a sweet, gentle thing, and then he picks up the book and resumes their reading. Stan melts into her brother, and his voice and touch drives away everything bad in the world.

[ladystoneboobs]

Two Weeks of Theon: What-Ifs

i'm not a fanfic writer or fanartist, but sometimes i like to think of au turns of fate for theon after balon's first rebellion. just thinking of all the ways his life was screwed no matter what, all the different ways his childhood could have been worse or bad in a different way, just never really that much better for long. there's no hostage scenario which doesn't turn to turn to shit sooner or later, with misery and/or very real danger of death, and it's why i just can't help but feel for him.

if balon had refused to bend the knee and lost his head for it, or just died fighting instead of leaving all the hard work to his brothers and older sons. with rodrik and maron still dead, theon could be a child lord, but obviously robert would appoint his own loyal regent, not one of theon's uncles who had just fought against him. and imo the person for that unpleasant task of ruling the isles as a foreign invader would be stannis, royal master of ships who'd just helped robert defeat the iron fleet. so theon is raised by stannis, he who is notoriously without mercy, a captive in his own home. there would inevitably be an ironborn resistance, trying to free theon (and asha and alannys), but there wouldn't be a united opposition. would vic and pre-born again aeron listen to rodrik the reader? and would they be effective at all without a smart person to lead them? either way, there'd be another group gathering around euron wanting theon (and maybe asha) dead (at their hands or stan's if they could provoke him) so that euron could take the throne as the only greyjoy strong enough to win balon's war and take their revenge. so even if a non-kinslayer uncle, greyjoy or harlaw, or anyone else loyal to balon's kids managed to free theon, then euron would still be waiting as the biggest danger.

alternately, what if robert gave theon as hostage to stannis, rather than the friend he loved more than his brothers? theon grows up on dreary dragonstone, worse than dreary pyke bc it wasn't his family's home and there wouldn't even be boys his own age to befriend. stuck with selyse and axell florent while stannis was in kl (and stannis himself when he was home), the only bright spots being if stannis ever took him to court with him, or when justin massey or other more fun vassals came to dragonstone. then when stannis discovers the incest, returns to dragonstone and locks down the island, theon's stuck for good. and when stannis learned of balon's 2nd rebellion, he wouldn't hesitate to execute theon even if he just fought for him on the blackwater.

or what if robert didn't turn to his brother or his foster brother to take theon when balon bent the knee, but instead his father-in-law. theon grows up in luxury at casterly rock, maybe actually befriends tyrion, but also gets sucked into lannister dysfunction and the tywin lannister school of tyranny, which would be a different mix on top of greyjoy dysfunction/abuse and ironborn tyranny. when war breaks out, theon's drafted on the lannister side against the starks/tullys in the riverlands. if he's in jaime's army, there's a chance he becomes a stark captive under very different circumstances. actually no, wait, becoming a stark/tully prisoner might be theon's only chance of survival in this au bc if he's raised a lannister hostage instead, there's a very high chance that balon would enter the war by attacking the westerlands after all, so if theon was still with tywin when that news hits there goes his head on a spike in harrenhal or the red keep.

or if robert just took theon hostage himself back to kl, rather than delegating a proxy to guarantee balon's loyalty to him. this could be the best au scenario captor-wise, at least while robert's alive. robert was more pro-child killing than ned but also even more short-sighted and ignorant of possible danger, known for winning over/befriending past (non-targ) enemies. would a guy willing to kill tommen and myrcella after thinking they were his own flesh and blood for their whole lives even think to distance himself from a hostage on the faint possibility of another lord being willing to sacrifice his only son? or would he be more likely to let theon get attached only to then do an aboutface and execute him in a rage if balon shocked him by rebelling against the iron throne again after all? since that never happened in robert's reign, theon could have been the eldest son he'd never had (since he didn't care for joffrey and never met gendry), with robert gladly initiating him into drinking and whoring, joining a group of hangers-on like justin massey. (i could also see theon getting along with renly and loras, but considering loras left the redwyne twins--his own double cousins--behind when he and renly split town, idt they'd bother to take theon when they fled after robert's mortal injury either.) the real problem would be joffrey, a jealous and cruel foster brother, with his status as crown prince giving some power to try to bully theon despite being younger, and cersei, a queen overprotective of joffrey and hating anyone close to robert. then after cersei kills robert, she and king joff have complete control over hostage theon, abused prisoner alongside sansa. and again, good chance balon would attack the westerlands in this au as they're much closer than kl or the baratheon stormlands, so theon would need to find some way to escape lannister custody to survive.

or what if robert gave custody to his foster father, jon arryn? lord arryn can't raise a hostage the same as ned and robert, who were straight up wards, and he's no longer childless himself and only in charge of his own homeland as he was back then. in canon timeline jon arryn was too busy ruling all the realm as hand to pay too much attention to his own wife and heir. imagine theon with lysa and sweetrobin. after jon arryn's death, he'd either be stuck with them at the eyrie and later have to deal with littlefinger too or robert would take custody and it would play out like above bulletpoint. most interesting scenario is if robert/cersei manage to send both theon and sweetrobin to tywin at the rock.

or if ned just remembered to keep his hostage close by bringing theon to kl with him. (idt ned ever thought of theon in a fatherly way but he at the least saw him as a kid who was robb's close friend. that has to be why he left theon at wf, bc i can't imagine he actually expected 14yo robb to behead his boyhood friend on what must seem like a slim possibility (esp by then, after almost 10 years) of balon rebelling. whatever his capacity for cruelty to theon, idt he'd be capable of such cruelty to his own child(ren) and mr. personal responsibility wrt killing would have felt this was his personal duty after taking charge of theon, if he actually thought of the possibility at all.) there's a pretty good chance theon could get killed with all the stark guardsmen in the throne room, since cersei's coup was far from foolproof. but if someone reminded her of his (supposed) value as a hostage and arrangements were made to take him alive, then again he'd be captive alongside sansa, except this is the only au where they wouldn't be meeting for the first time.

or if everything else stayed the same except euron returned home earlier, same time as theon at the start of the war. all of balon's and theon's war plans go out the window with balon's murder and euron taking the throne. theon who came determined to be balon's heir would not stand for this, but could only survive by working with asha, who was a stranger to him by then. this scenario has the highest chance of theon's death imo. bc really what it comes down to is theon was always screwed, even if he made better choices in canon acok, even if he took his last chance to leave with asha, they'd still just have to deal with euron later. always caught between foreign captors and a kinslayer uncle with no true chance for escape both.

[darkonekrisrewrite]

Ever notice that villains are held to higher standards than the heroes both in the series and often the fandom?

Where if someone is labelled a villain they must be a saint who has never so much as raised their voice at anyone, or they'll be treated like an irredeemable monster.

But if they get the hero label, they can constantly threaten murder and assaulting people for the pettiest shit (aka Bakugou), endanger people and cause mass property damage (Bakugou again, and Endeavor, he literally didn't care if he killed a vigilante in the sister series Vigilantes) or break the law for shits and giggles (Miriko, Vigilantes, repeatedly going to fight clubs as a student just for fun, which at least back then her opponents were somewhat consenting).

The heroes are excessively violent often being worse than the actual 'villains' Does anyone remember the double assault of that purse snatcher in the first episode? Including Mt. Lady violently attacking them, a purse snatcher, after they had already been apprehended (And literally contained) by Kamui Woods.

Deku violently attacks Gentle Criminal and La Brava, who he knows are non-violent, and very appearance-based in their crimes, cause of oh no the school festival for the school that has been continuously failing to protect their students might get cancelled. He never made any attempt to tell them what will happen if they crash it, just immediately jumped to 'I better break their bones'

Hawks doesn't even pause his conversation with Endeavor when once again violently apprehending a streaker (in the general public, this wasn't targetting individuals or children). He could of easily just kept the trench coat closed and questioned them, but the heroes ALWAYS jump to violence and escalation.

I didn't even need to use the League/Front or comb through the chapters to get three blantant examples in the main series alone

And as with cops in the real world (and a large part of why I take this so seriously), they are the ones who have received training to deal with conflict. They are the ones that should be expected to be better, as they have supposedly been trained

---

Recently in my A Moral Scapegoat For Who? I got in a bit of a debate, where the other person immediately was going in with 'well the villains aren't actually deep' I never said in that post that the villains were blameless or deep, I was literally talking about using AFO as a scapegoat for them, my point about the villains was they are right (and I thought the following thought was obvious enough that I didn't have to say it but "and they shouldn't be, so what are you going to do?". Second, while later in the debate they say they also think the heroes were shallowly written, they only held the villains in my pretty neutral (all things considered) rant accountable in their first reblog. But we had 1 volume focusing on the villains, and 30+ focusing on the heroes. So even if we agree with them on they are equally shallow/deep (for sake of arguement) the villains (specifically the League) got the same amount done, with only one volume and small tidbits fragmented across the rest of this very long series, that the heroes took over 30 to do. One would typically expect the protagonists to have more characterization than the villains.

In the actively antagonistic, we constantly see "Oh but their suffering doesn't justify their actions! OwO" Which once again as I have said before What the fuck are/were they supposed to do? Second, care to hold the heroes to even a fraction of that standard? Endeavor openly doesn't care if he kills a known and well liked Vigilante if he (the Crawler) gets in the way of killing the villain he's going after, he did not hesitant to kill during the nomu attack, and his high-end battle, where the nomu was fully capable of speech. That is just some of his shit, on the job, I haven't in this whole thing even touched on his dispicable off-duty activities.

The villains are taking their actions from a place of being disadvantage, the heroes a place of extreme power.

Part of why I like the villains is that they are exaggerating how bad they are, so they are either delivering on what they've said, or they are doing better. The heroes are lying about how good they are and expecting constant praise, even if they aren't demanding the praise be personal they are demanding praise. Deku seeing the UA press conference after they literally just had a student kidnapped, multiple injured, at least one child from fucking elementary school almost killed, is shocked and disturbed that the media would dare critise them.

I have noticed that, all the time.

All of this is very true and very well written.

So much so that I don't think there's anything I can, or need to, add to it.

��👍 ♾️

[barbieaiden]

1. [A month ago]

2. Jordan: Hey, Sam. How are you holding up?

3. Jordan: ...I brought you coffee.

Sam: Thank you.

4. Jordan: Do you want to go home for the night? Sleep in your own bed? I could drive you home, pick you up on my way to work tomorrow.

Sam: I think I'll stay here.

Jordan: Alright.

5. Sam: I keep thinking... [Sigh] It's so stupid.

Jordan: Go on.

Sam: I keep thinking I should call Aiden. So he can help. But obviously I can't, because... I just... I don't know what to do. Nothing feels real. It's been two days and it feels like ten years.

6. Jordan: The waiting is the worst part. I waited for my mom's death for months. You can't cope when you don't know what you're coping with.

Sam: Months?

Jordan: She wasn't in a coma, just terminally ill. For all we know Aiden might wake up tomorrow.

Sam: Or die.

7. Jordan: As much as I wish I could I can't tell you that he's going to be fine. And I can't replace him, obviously, but I am here if you need anything.

8. Sam: Thank you.

10. Aiden: Jordan, you can't tell me you spent a whole day with a man you're not interested in. That is not friends with benefits, that's practically married.

11. Kell: I'd tell you and Zach to get a room but you already have, like, a million fucking times.

Jordan: What I'm getting from this conversation is that neither of you have ever had any friends.

Aiden: It's true. The only man I've ever spent time with is Sam.

12. Jordan: Even if I wanted to I don't have time for a relationship.

Kell: Dude, you are literally already spending, like, all your free time with him.

Aiden: If you and Zach get engaged we can have a double wedding!

Lucas: You should become a tattoo artist instead, Jordan. No 55 hour shifts and you still get to stab people with needles.

Jordan: I happen to like my job.

Lucas: You complain about it every single time I see you.

Jordan: I find your obsession with needles slightly disturbing.

Lucas: I guess I like the artistic part too.

Aiden: That's why I let Michael do all my piercings.

Lucas: I'm such...

15. Aiden: Sam?

16. Aiden: Are you okay?

Sam: Mhm.

Aiden: Are you sure?

Sam: Just... tired.

Aiden: We can go home if you want to.

Sam: It's fine.

Aiden: I wouldn't mind.

Sam: Really, Aiden, it's fine.

18. Kell: You two are literally worse than that one high school couple making out in the corridors.

19. Aiden: You can't say that, that's so homophobic.

Kell: Your dad didn't think I was very homophobic.

Aiden: [Exaggerated gasp] Kell!

Kell: Too far?

Aiden: No, Kell, by all means, if you want to go over to Nettlefield right now and have sex with my actually homophobic father, go right ahead.

Kell: Dude. I'm sorry, okay?

20. Kell: Find something to eat with me? Please?

Aiden: Sure.

Kell: Sam, don't look at me like that, we're not going to smoke weed.

Sam: That was not my issue with this conversation and you saying that unprompted makes me think you are going to smoke weed.

Aiden: I've never even seen weed. Drugs are bad, or whatever. And so illegal.

Kell: Exactly. We're law-abiding citizens.

21. Aiden: Seriously. No weed. Promise.

Sam: Okay.

22. Aiden: Are you sure you're okay?

Sam: Yes, Aiden.

Aiden: Just... tell me if you want to go home. Okay?

Sam: I will.

[danrifics]

Hi! I’m the RBC person. It is just this amazing fanfic series I love. Technically it’s a Harry Potter fic, but I think it’s really amazing and worth reading still (I don’t involve myself with HP in any other way besides reading RBC because f*ck JKR). It feels like a completely different story with a singular protagonist and is written so intricately. I’m just getting obsessed with it again, so I was curious if you liked it.

It’s about a girl Harriet in a world where Tom Riddle became a politician instead of Voldemort, which led to the passing of a lot of widespread discriminatory legislation again anyone who is not pureblooded. One of these laws is that only purebloods are allowed at Hogwarts. Harriet is singularly focused on her love and passion for potion making, and that leads her to switch places with her “cousin” Archie Black (Sirius’s son) to learn Potions at Hogwarts.

Having to hide her gender and her identity is a huge undertaking that requires a lot of sacrifices and careful planning and constant work. There is a large focus throughout the series on the mental toll the ruse takes on Harry and the ingenuity keeping it intact requires. There is also a big focus on politics, particularly on what the effects of such a discriminatory system is on Harry and also on her peers, and what is takes to fight back against it. The series starts with Harry at 11, so it’s interesting to see how living within the system at Hogwarts with classmates who have grown up believing in blood supremacy shapes her perception—we also get a unique perspective by experiencing it through this lens.

There are five books in the series, and the first one was started 14 years ago now. The fifth book will be the last, but it isn’t finished yet. Since Violet started writing (I think) in high school, the first half of the first book is markedly worse writing than the rest of the series, which is extremely high quality, but the first book is still great. The writing is definitely much better by the second book, although the first one is definitely not bad by any means. My sister and I both think the third book (The Ambiguous Artifice) is the best one because it is at even a higher level of intricacy than before. My sister and I both really love the series and it’s something we’ve bonded over a lot. I’ve actually also introduced it to my mom, who loves it too.

There’s actually a whole discord server for RBC because of how loved it is, and there’s nearly a thousand recursive fics (fics based on RBC) on AO3. The first book is called “The Pureblood Pretense” by murkybluematter on ffn (fanfiction.net). I haven’t said yet, but RBC stands for the “Rigel Black Chronicles”.

I understand not wanting to interact with anything even tangentially Harry Potter, but if you are interested, it’s one of the best series/fics I’ve ever read and I’ve been reading fics constantly for the past like 12 years. It’s just so special, and I love it so much. It’s amazing how well thought out it is and how well Violet weaves everything together. I am rereading it now for the first time in a few years, and I’m really enjoying doing so, which is why I brought it up. I hope I have a good summary and didn’t miss anything important. I didn’t want to spoil anything, but I still wanted give a good idea of the premise. Sorry to bombard you with so much information lol.

oh yeah sorry anon i am replying to this but the moment you said harry potter i was like yeah im not reading any of this ask lmao.

i have absolutely no interest in harry potter and i never have like ive been a harry potter hater since before it was a thing to hate harry potter.

ive never even seen any of the films or read any of the books so im genuinely really sorry but i absolutely have no interest in reading a fanfic about it (or really the summary of the fic sorry you put all the effort in writing all that for nothing 😭)

[jumpscaregoose]

Wanna know jenta and inukai relationship post survive on your personal perspective thank u

was gonna make a terrible jeans kenta joke based on that typo but then I got distracted literally paying rent. and then a series of other things. alas

so very happy I got this ask they're so important to me. like that one evil wip I've got is almost as much about them as it is the actual Point

as the premiere inukai dad jokes guy. yeah it is kind of that to me but of course it's not that simple. compared to the other members of gokuluck, inukai is totally the most parental towards him (duh. it's his job) (also, if gun to my head I had to categorize the gklk prisoner trio relationship, it's like the next step up from those random coworkers you meet at your shitty retail job in high school and learn a weird amount about. like they're not familial, not a typical group of friends either, but they're close. this is why I say gun to my head it's a very je ne sais quoi secret third thing situation)

in my head. they're like. unrequited pseudofatherhood. inukai wants to be a better support system towards the kid who he's legally responsible for and who's clearly going through some shit, and kenta being kenta is really iffy on this

post survive I can see the support system part working out better, over time. inukai chronically talks in therapy-speak so I imagine once someone actually tells him how they feel and what makes things worse (cough cough kenta terrible communication skills cough cough) he would have a better success rate with not immediately pissing him off

best way I can think to describe it that it's like parenthood in the same way acetate is a cellulose fibre (sorry I watched a youtube video about the burn test for fibre content recently). like it's made from the same ingredients (adult with guardianship with a child, who has to make sure they don't die and teach them to. not die) it doesn't function in the same way and is fundamentally not the same. two reasons for this really. first one is obvious, there's not the same flavour of power dynamic you get from a normal parental relationship. inukai's a law enforcement bitch and kenta is a ward of the state, but in turn kenta has a load of dirt on him that could totally lose him his job. so it's... not really a stalemate, but inukai's a wuss. second is that kenta isn't a small child, he's fifteen, he's probably been forced to grow up a little too fast in some ways, he's jaded- he doesn't need all of the same guidance a younger person, or even most people his age would. what he really lacks is interpersonal skills, how to make and maintain connections, trust- things he's not willing to learn, first of all, and second things he wouldn't trust inukai to teach him.

that's another thing. I can't really see kenta ever looking up to, or really respecting inukai in the same way inukai sees him as a child he needs to protect. he sees inukai as weak, thinks he knows more than him (which he does, in some ways), doesn't even fear hancho, really-

-and I'm so sorry for blueballsing you on inukai fatherhood opinions but I got distracted midsentence writing this a few days ago and now I can't remember where I was going with that. I apologize

[fantomevoleur]

((The old brain has been rattling around with ideas of Akira's college years and what he wants to study YET AGAIN!! I haven't come up with anything concrete as of yet, but there are certain things I can say with full confidence he'd study. I'll put this under a Read More because IT'S A LOT!!

One thing is...he wants to double major. GOOD LUCK WITH THAT BOY!! THAT'S GONNA TAKE YOU EXTRA LONG ESPECIALLY WITH THE MAJORS YOU'RE INTERESTED IN!! But he's a smart kid, and he will put in the work and the long hours studying in the library and pulling all nighters to do well with his studies. Makoto taught him well about time management and study habits so he's not too afraid or nervous when it comes to the hefty workload he'll be doing. He's more than prepared.

Secondly, he wants theatre/acting as a minor. That is a must, that is absolutely necessary, you will not be able to sway him with that decision. He loves acting, he misses his time in community theater, and since high school was...what it was he hasn't been involved in a while. On top of the minor, he does want to participate in a community theater near his college, or if the school happens to provide its own theater for the students. Not only is it because he misses acting, but he wants to give back to a community whom helped him during a very rough time in his middle school years. His dad was sick and kept getting worse, his mom...well, she's always been a bitch but it got harder to handle her attitude in middle school, so his escape from all that was community theater. I don't think he'd want to take up a director position, but he wants to be a part of the staff in some way while also getting to audition/act in their plays.

So now for the majors. There are four currently rotating in my mind and his mind.

Business, psychology, law, and criminology.

The first one is...a given for Akira, and I'm definitely leaning towards business being his secondary major. The interest came from Akira's father, how he taught Akira about working a small, independent business and how his father WAS going to leave his little fishing business to Akira once he passed away. Now that didn't come about because THANKS MOTHER, THANKS FOR TRICKING YOUR HUSBAND INTO CHANGING HIS WILL AND TRANSFERING THE BUSINESS OVER TO HER but you know, that can be fixed in time. Hopefully. His father may have taught him the basics, but Akira does want to know more. He wants to know the ins and outs of running a business so he can bring his father's back, and perhaps help Sojiro gain more profit and attract more customers. Helping small businesses and family-owned shops are the real motivation he'd go into studying business, even though he won't have any fun with it. It'll suck for someone as antsy and creative as Akira, but he will put in the work.

Now psychology, I will be entirely honest, was influenced heavily by Maruki's actions. Akira still has a rocky relationship with him, and he doesn't fully trust him anymore nor will he fully trust him ever again, but he understands why Maruki did what he did. It wasn't the best option, Akira literally BEAT THAT SENSE INTO THE GUY, and he's hoping Maruki will find his own way to heal and grow from his mistakes. But it made Akira think about the other counselors and therapists out there who may be suffering in the same way as Maruki. How did it affect their patients? Were they providing any help to them when they needed the help as well? It's very much that classic Akira mindset of 'I need to help others who have been in the same position as me/my friends so they can be better'. He doesn't want to see other kids his age go through the same experience as him, or his friends.

Law and criminology were, surprise surprise, heavily influenced by Sae and Akechi. He's now seen what the government can really do to its own people via Sae's palace, and even to their own family via Akechi's situation. He wouldn't be going in to become a lawyer or a prosecutor or anything like that, it doesn't fit him and honestly he doesn't want to be working under some law firm that could abuse his talents and background. Plus WITH his background already, his chances wouldn't be so good. No, if he goes down this path he wants to come out being an investigator or a private eye. Someone who can work for themselves, someone not tied down or stringed to any police unit, but someone able to help people who can't trust the legal system or police. Akechi gets more of an influence on Akira's decision in this part because...well despite Akechi's cases being setup up BY him to make him look good for the public, Akechi is still a very intelligent person. And I wouldn't be surprised if he asked for Akechi's and probably Sae's assistance with a case he wants to open up. That being, the death of his father by his mother's hands. That's the main reason, the driving factor in choosing law or criminology as his major. The law aspect of it is so Akira knows the inner workings of the country's legal system, so his mother doesn't try to rat her way out or play the victim again. Criminology is to find the conclusive evidence in her being guilty of the crime. That's also why he'd never, ever, ever change her heart. He wants her to admit to her crime by the doing of his own hard earned work.))

[mdhwrites]

The Owl House has Coven Heads But No Covens

Alador is a part of the abomination coven. He quite literally has to be because otherwise he's part of the Emperor's Coven and that makes issues with Amity going covenless SO MUCH WORSE. So, with that, here's a simple question: If his boss doesn't like his work, why can't he shut it down?

This is the core of the problem. Darius is a coven head. These coven heads are made out to be a big deal. A position you want to aspire to. They also work directly with Belos and presumably make some amount of input on decisions for how the Isles are run. They are Belos' cabinet effectively with what we see.

But on the flipside... What do they do? And potentially more importantly, what do their covens do? Terra is used to test Kikimora, an EC member. Grey uses EC guards during Labyrinth Runners. Yes, you could argue they are still illusion coven members but they look and act like Emperor's Coven members and even use that coven's equipment: The abomatons. Where are HIS illusionists?

Or, you know, the ones who make objects to sell and distribute to those not as high in the coven ranks? Those with little magic and need things like personal protection? Those like Alador. But... Darius appears to EXTREMELY disapprove of Alador's work. Sure, it may be personally motivated but when has that ever stopped a boss from doing a dick move? Let alone once Belos had a reason to get upset with them as well with the abomatons. That should have made there be a limited amount of abomatons because Blight Industries was potentially closed by order of the coven head. That or it could have been taken over by Darius so maybe they keep making abomatons but now Amity's is more connected to the covens than she was before because her family's business has more direct oversight. Now that her and Blight Industries are properly connected to the abomination coven.

Not that it shouldn't have been already. Again, you have the Main Nine, so big that the classes in Hexside bend around them and they have specialized uniforms for kids to show they're studying for a specific coven, even in other schools. Shouldn't that mean this is a real organization and so an entity as big as Blight Industries is made out to be should already have been brought under their wing? They're using literally the magic that the coven exists to... Well, technically for no reason but murder but the excuse should be that it helps push the magic further while also regulating it to make sure it doesn't break the law.

But do you know who shows up because of the abomatons? Hunter. And the Emperor's Coven. NOT the abomination coven.

This is kind of one of those big things that highlights how underdeveloped the worldbuilding of TOH is. Everyone has to be a part of a coven but we NEVER get an idea for what that even means beyond a tattoo that limits your magic. These covens are a part of the governing body but what do they DO? And you can't blame the shortening AT ALL for this because the show introduced the covens during literally the FIFTH episode. So we had an entire season where we could have had even one episode actually showcase a coven and what they're about, or even montage through a lot of them to show how the Isles worked... And we got literally zero. Instead, we got episodes like The First Day that make even the little we know about covens and wild witches seem inconsistent.

It's not even that this would be too boring. Luz gets excited for the Covention literally BECAUSE getting to showcase so much magic is a really cool idea. But even that episode makes it boring. We get like two covens getting to show off their stuff, and not really all that impressively, a description for a couple covens' types of magic, not what they do in the society, and that's... It. We don't even get the full nine despite them having decided to do a boring ass job fair for this. Instead, the covens themselves feel like a footnote in their own episode despite being the ONE kind of unique thing about TOH's world. Not really since it comes across as just schools of magic but it's SOMETHING beyond the most generic fantasy out there.

But it didn't care. The covens are just there for paradoxically heavy handed but also inconsistent messaging and theming. So we get coven heads because they're cool and they're able to be enemies... But no covens. Because actually showing those might have meant having to have a real world.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past.

I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead.

If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.