#a lot of this is speculation. you know the inside of my head is a dark twisted place

[deargravity]

thought a bit too long about hajun's bilingualism and it turned into its own beast in my head, especially because i overfocused on the pride cd track where, at the height of his emotions, he breaks out a word in korean to express himself. both when he's angry / upset after the confrontation with ryuu and when he's grateful / freshly vulnerable later after that conversation with allen and anne. i know it's a trait of his character to be repressed and insincere in expressing himself but i also wanted to spend time on how language might play a role into his self-presentation, and possibly it is reflective of how carefully he has to maintain and build his image. the language he learned inside-out, the language he was born into (korean) and the language he learned outside-in, the language he speaks to blend into the host culture (japanese), and i think that's the bare-bone fundamental immigrant experience that it might also tie into his sense of isolation and how carefully he curates himself to be accepted and admired, without really knowing how deeply he is loved by the people in his life.

when you learn a new language, if you're busy attending to the rules of syntax and grammar and morphology finding the right way to word things, how much room do you really have for putting in your own voice into that framework, how do you really express yourself in the early stages such that you are truly understood the way you want to be, even in regular conversations when you can communicate with someone in their language, so much meaning is lost between what is said and what is heard. especially when language is the conduit for understanding culture as well.

language has been shown to influence our sense of time and direction and even the range of colours that we see so it's not too far-fetched to mirror this learning experience with how hajun had to grow up in japan away from his family, and his language, and acclimatise to an unfamiliar setting. what i'm trying to say is that after having to internalise the idea that he is unloved by his family, the struggle of fitting into a new society might have exarcebated his loneliness as well, especially since he couldn't regularly speak the language he grew up with. how closely was his childhood tied to the language, how often did his feelings get lost in translation growing up, and is this also part of the reason no one has truly been able to understand him, the reason he doesn't bother with honesty after a childhood of growing up alone, thinking himself unloved and not worth understanding, and of course does that affect his relationship with vulnerability into his adulthood? how do you even begin to conceptualise this kind of experience as a kid? everything he learned turned into habit that became less about being instinctive and truthful and more about putting it together correctly, not just in a new language, but also in a new self, for a new place. if you get what i mean by the parallel.

on language: what language do you think with? how do you access and translate memories into another language? what do you lose of yourself in the process of translation? at what point, do you give up on translating and build yourself something new? at this point, aren't you lying to yourself too? of course, you'd also lie to everyone else.

i don't know if i've read too much into something and turned it into a headcanon, but it's just something i noticed in the pride cd track, when his mask cracks under the pressure and not just through language. that aside, i just thought it might be a good place to start understanding part of the reason why he's so emotionally shuttered and distant all the time. maybe it's language, maybe it's habit, maybe it's because he also has a very selective and flawed understanding of himself, and very likely it is also self-loathing but that's a conversation for another day, thank you for reading.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

1-800-CALL ME, FAKE FIANCÉ

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: (part of my mini fake-fiancé series) the fbi agent you met at the bar helped you out of a jam so you decide to pay him a visit at work. warnings | a/n: unhinged reader, rossi being a lil instigator, reader has no shame in her game at ALL & makes the first move, the usual banter & chem, channelling all the rom-com feels word count: 3.3k

✧ masterlist | first part can be found here | third part can be found here

It had been a week since your little fake fiancé fiasco, and while it had been enough to satisfy your mob group of fake friends and stop them from asking questions, it wasn’t enough to satisfy your questions.

Because now, you were curious – dangerously so.

You couldn’t concentrate on much else. It was ridiculous. Absurd. Completely unnecessary. And yet…

You had googled him.

You had googled Aaron Hotchner.

And oh boy did you find things.

FBI Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. Head of some ultra-serious-sounding department in behavioural analysis. There were articles. Court cases. Mentions of serial killers – plural. You even found a grainy news clip of him giving a statement outside a police station, looking all important and broody.

And as if that wasn’t enough, there were forums. Entire internet threads dedicated to the man. Debates on how often he smiled. Speculation on his past. A truly unhinged corner of the internet where a small but passionate group of people seemed convinced he had once been a male model.

You may or may not have spent a questionable amount of time scrolling through that last one.

But none of this answered the real question: why did an FBI Unit Chief go along with your ridiculous fake fiancé charade without hesitation? That was not normal federal agent behaviour. You were pretty sure actual government employees had policies against indulging unhinged strangers.

Which led you here. More specifically in the FBI headquarters parking lot.

Okay, you were actually insane. But you had good intentions. Intentions of thanking him properly for the night of madness he had endured.

So, you had baked him cookies. Because, according to your mother, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – which was a wildly inappropriate saying to be applying to an FBI agent, but here you were.

You took a deep breath, staring up at the intimidating glass doors, clutching your box of cookies like it was a ticking time bomb. This was fine. Completely normal. People brought cookies to law enforcement all the time… right?

Swallowing your nerves, you marched inside, heels clicking against the polished floor as you approached the receptionist’s desk. The woman behind the counter barely glanced up as she typed away at her computer.

“Hi! Uh, could you do me a favour and give these to an Aaron Hotchner?” you asked, setting the box down with a nervous smile. “He’s, um, Unit Chief of something very official and serious, which I’m sure you already know, but I just wanted to thank him because he helped me out of a situation – not like a legal situation, nothing weird, I’m not a criminal or anything – oh my God, that sounded suspicious –”

The receptionist finally looked up, blinking slowly. “Ma’am?”

You let out an awkward laugh, waving a hand. “I mean, technically, everyone is a criminal in some way, right? Like, who hasn’t jaywalked or taken a pen from a bank? Oh my God, I’m not confessing to anything, I just –”

“Ma’am,” the receptionist interrupted, her voice flat. “Are you delivering something, or…?”

“Wow, you guys are really strict on the whole professionalism thing, huh?” You huffed, then quickly corrected yourself. “Not that I’m not professional. I can be professional. I wore a blazer once.” You paused, glancing at her name badge. “Clarissa! I am delivering cookies. They are divine, you can have one if you’d like?”

Clarissa squinted at you, clearly debating whether or not to press a panic button – one that, realistically, would probably result in you being swarmed by tactical agents in full riot gear.

Was that even the FBI? Or was that, like… SWAT? Was SWAT part of the FBI? Were you about to go down for cookie-related crimes?

“Are you cleared to be here?” she asked.

“Depends on your definition of cleared –”

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s take a breath before you actually incriminate yourself.”

You spun around to find none other than David – if you recalled correctly – standing behind you, looking just as entertained as he did back at the jazz bar, his eyes bouncing between the cookies and you. “Well, well. If it isn’t Hotch’s fiancée.”

“Not his fiancée anymore!”

“Sure. And I’m not Italian.”

You shook your head, exhaling dramatically. “I just made him some cookies as a thank you. Do you mind passing them on to him, please? And then I can get out of yours and Clarissa’s hair. You have fabulous hair, both of you, by the way.”

Clarissa stared at you like you were personally responsible for every inconvenience that had ever befallen her. Rossi, on the other hand, grinned like you had just made his entire day.

“You know what? No,” he said, shaking his head. “You should give them to him yourself.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary –”

“I insist.”

Clarissa folded her arms. “She’s not authorised to be here.”

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Clarissa, I’ve worked in this building longer than some agents have been alive. If I say she’s authorised, she’s authorised.”

Clarissa let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t argue further.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go surprise Hotch.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Oh. Yay.”

Rossi led you through security and about four different hallways before you found yourself in an elevator. You barely had time to process what was happening before you were stepping into a bullpen that made your brain go fuzzy. There were far too many people in suits, all looking intimidatingly competent.

A woman with blonde hair and a bright cardigan – finally someone who understood the power of colour – shot you an intrigued glance over the top of her glasses.

“I really don’t think this is necessary, David,” you whispered. “You guys look like busy, busy people, and I just wanted to bring some cookies. I don’t think Hotch will appreciate being called out of his very legitimate FBI career just for me.”

“Oh, I know he won’t.”

“Okay, now you’re making me panic, and I have a habit of jumping to conclusions when I’m under a lot of stress. Please, really, it’s no big deal –”

“Yeah, Hotch mentioned something along those lines,” Rossi hummed as the two of you came to a halt in front of a door, to which he knocked before stepping inside.

You followed hesitantly, barely making it over the threshold before you locked eyes with Hotch, who was standing behind his desk, looking very confused.

Rossi gestured at you grandly. “Look who I found wandering the FBI headquarters.”

“Okay, that makes me sound like a stalker and – wow, okay, I guess maybe I am a stalker, but the good kind, I promise! I come in peace. And with cookies… as a thank you.”

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” Rossi grinned, giving you a nudge as he sauntered out, shutting the door behind him with far too much enthusiasm.

Hotch, still staring at you like you had just crash-landed into his office from another dimension, slowly folded his arms. “Should I be concerned?”

“Not until you try one of these,” you said, flipping open the lid of the cookie box, only for your smile to falter the second you actually registered what was inside.

Heart-shaped cookies. Pink frosting. Extra sprinkles.

Oh no.

You stared at them. Then at Hotch. Then back at them.

He was still staring too, looking at the cookies like they were an active FBI case file he wasn’t quite sure how to classify.

You let out half a laugh. “Oh. Oh, boy.”

Hotch raised a brow, arms still crossed, looking every bit the intimidating federal agent he was.

“Okay, I know what this looks like,” you groaned, snapping the box shut like that would somehow undo the visual catastrophe. “I got slightly carried away – as I tend to – and my mind just kind of… took its own course when I was making them. I wasn’t thinking about you – well, I was thinking about you, but not like that, I swear. I just – ugh – I put a little bit myself into them.”

Hotch tilted his head. “Yourself?”

You nodded, slowly reopening the box as if the cookies might suddenly jump out and throw up edible glitter all over his office. “You know… they’re kind of chaotic but well-intentioned, possibly too much but ultimately harmless –”

“How did you find me here?”

“Oh. That.”

He just stared at you.

You cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in the cookie box. “Well, it’s not that hard, you know? I have a great memory, and I did get a pretty solid look at your badge – after I thought you were going to murder me, of course – so I just… searched you up.”

His brows lifted.

You panicked. “But only to figure out where you work so I could bring you cookies! That’s it! I had every intention of leaving them with Clarissa but your friend David saw me and said I should bring them up myself. And well… now I’m here.”

Hotch’s hand pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.”

You rocked on your heels, watching him carefully. “Sooo… does this mean I’m officially on an FBI watchlist, or is that, like, a separate process?”

Hotch exhaled, lowering his hand. “You’re not on a watchlist.”

“Oh.”

His brows furrowed. “Would you like to be?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer that without a lawyer present,” you mumbled, setting the cookies down on his desk.

“So, let me get this straight. You looked me up, managed to talk your way into a federal building without authorisation all just to bring me heart-shaped cookies?”

You lifted a finger. “Okay, first of all, let’s not make this sound like an obsession – I googled you. That’s a normal thing people do! It’s called being informed. And second, the hearts were an accident. I only had one cookie cutter. You think I wanted to show up here looking like some lovesick lunatic?”

Hotch glanced at the cookies, then back at you. “…Yes.”

“Okay, well, this has been fun,” you said, dusting your hands before adjusting your jacket. “Enjoy the cookies, and thanks again for the other night,” you continued, already backing toward the door. “I have not had my name mentioned once in the Veronica Posse group chat since, and for the first time in years, I have actually known peace.”

“Wait,” he called just as you reached for the door handle. You spun around to face him. “Why did you really come here?”

You paused before speaking.

“I need a fiancé again,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Yup. Need one again, preferably the same one, but this time it’s my parents hounding me, and they’ve already arranged a dinner and everything.”

Hotch opened his mouth, then closed it. A second passed. Then another. Finally – “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you beamed, completely unbothered by the scowl on his face. Hotch looked like he was about to reply, but his phone began ringing. He glanced down at it on the desk.

“Alright, really leaving now. I’ll let you get back to all this serious business,” you said, but then a realization dawned, making you pause.

Hotch looked back up, brows raising slightly. “What is it?”

You shifted, glancing toward the door, then back at him. “So, funny thing… I don’t actually know how to get out of here.”

Hotch sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a button to silence his phone before slipping it into his suit jacket. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh, no need,” you replied quickly, waving him off. “I’ll just ask David – he loves helping me.”

Hotch gave you a flat look. “Absolutely not.”

You blinked innocently. “Why? He was so excited to see me earlier. You should have heard him, all like Oh, if it isn’t Hotch’s fiancée! He really sells it.”

“That’s exactly why,” Hotch muttered, already moving toward the door.

You followed Hotch out of his office, barely managing to keep up with his long strides. “Wow, you walk fast,” you huffed, adjusting your purse on your shoulder. “Is this an FBI thing? Do you all just power walk everywhere?”

He slowed his pace ever so slightly so you could catch up. As you glanced around, you noticed several pairs of eyes discreetly watching the two of you – one of them being David who had zero shame in making his interest known. You offered him a small wave to which he responded with a not-so-subtle wink. When your eyes landed on Hotch he was watching the exchange.

“Keep walking.”

“I am,” you whispered back, trying not to laugh. “I just happen to also be social.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

You gasped, doing a light two step jog to catch up. “Gosh, what happened to ‘Marry me, sweetheart?’”

“You called it nonsense, remember?”

“I did,” you admitted. “But that was after you said something that was incredibly true about me.”

Hotch threw you a curious glance. “And what was that?”

“That I’m too good to consider that group of women my friends, especially ones I feel the need to impress.”

Hotch didn’t say anything right away, just reached for the door, pushing it open and holding it for you. As you stepped past him, you caught the smallest trace of something in his expression, something very close to approval.

Stepping into the hallway, you glanced around, already feeling disoriented. “This place is like a maze,” you muttered, spinning in a small circle before looking back at him. “How do you manage to not get lost here?”

“Spatial awareness.”

Before you could question him further, you felt his hands on your arms, gently guiding you to the left just as you were about to head right.

“Oh. Wow. Okay.”

His lips twitched. “You were about to walk into a closet.”

You glanced back at the door you had almost pushed open. “That’s not a closet. That’s –” You squinted at the sign. “Okay, that’s definitely a closet.” You sighed dramatically, walking ahead this time – making sure to pretend like you totally knew where you were going. “See? This is why I need a fake fiancé. Navigation assistance.”

His voice followed you, dry as ever. “That’s what Google Maps is for.”

You turned, walking backwards now, arms crossed. “Yeah, well, Google Maps doesn’t have your spatial awareness, does it?”

“You’d rather rely on me for directions?”

You stopped walking, tilting your head. “Huh. Good point. Maybe I should just take my chances with the closet.”

Hotch sighed, stepping past you. “Come on. I’ll make sure you get out of here without accidentally locking yourself in a supply room.”

You grinned, following him. “See? Fake fiancé duties are still active.”

This time, you definitely didn’t miss the half-smile he tried to hide.

After what felt like literal hours of navigating the endless, identical floors and hallways of the FBI, the two of you finally stepped outside. Freedom at last, you thought, basking in the sight of the actual sun – something you’d only glimpsed through windows you were convinced had some kind of tint designed to make the inside of the building feel even duller.

“Do you know where you parked?”

You scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Uh, duh. What do you take me for?”

Hotch just looked at you.

You blinked.

Then, very slowly, you turned your head, scanning the parking lot.

Oh, no.

Where did you park?

You wracked your brain, desperately trying to retrace your steps, but the problem was… you hadn’t exactly been focused when you arrived. You had just parked somewhere and hoped for the best. But now, with Hotch watching you like a disapproving parent, the pressure was on.

You pointed vaguely toward a random row of cars. “It’s… that way.”

Hotch didn’t even bother looking. “No, it’s not.”

You spun back to him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re guessing.”

“I am not.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I am not!”

Hotch arched a single, knowing brow.

You huffed. “Fine. I may be stalling. But in my defence, I had a lot on my mind when I got here!”

Hotch inhaled, glancing at his watch. “Just describe what your car looks like and what you remember seeing when you got here.”

You frowned, thinking. “Okay, so, my car is… car-shaped.”

His stare was unmoving.

You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh… blue. Or, like, bluish. Depends on the lighting.”

“Anything else?”

You squinted at the parking lot, hoping for divine intervention. “I think I was near… a pole?”

“There are multiple poles.”

“A very specific pole.”

“Right.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Ugh, this is so unfair. I have many talents, okay? Parking lot navigation is just not one of them.”

“Shocking,” he muttered before moving toward one section of the parking lot. “Let’s start from here.”

You followed, chewing the inside of your cheek.

A few minutes later – after much grumbling, a completely unnecessary debate about why all parking lots look the same, and one slightly humiliating moment where you tried to unlock someone else’s car – Hotch finally spotted your actual vehicle.

“Would you look at that! There she is, in all her glory!” you sang and this time, when you hit the unlock button, the lights actually flashed. Progress.

You pulled open the driver’s side door and tossed your purse inside before turning back to Hotch. “Thank you… again.” You let out a laugh. “It feels like that’s all I ever say to you.”

Hotch gave a small shrug, hands finding his pockets. “You do seem to require a lot of rescuing.”

“Alright, alright.” You pointed a manicured finger at him. “Despite what you might think, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I just happen to have a mild navigational deficiency and… questionable taste in men. And friends, apparently – according to my ex fake fiancé.”

“Sounds like you’re finally learning.”

You rolled your eyes, sliding into your seat. “I hate that you’re good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Reading people.” You gestured vaguely in his direction. “It’s very annoying.”

He smiled at you, one hand slipping from his pocket to rest against the edge of your car door. “I’ll try to be worse at my job next time.”

You leaned forward, placing your arms on the steering wheel with a playful spark in your eye. “Listen, Hotch, Hotchner, Aaron – I have a slight confession to make before I go.”

“That sentence doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“This one’s harmless. Promise.”

Hotch stood there, shaking his head like he could not believe he was still standing there entertaining this conversation.

You tapped a finger against the wheel. “So, if mid-cookie bite you accidentally choke on a piece of paper, do not be alarmed – well, actually do be alarmed. I don’t want you to die before you’ve asked me out on a date.” You flashed him a pointed look. “But it’s my number – since apparently, having my address isn’t enough.”

“You hid your number in food?”

“Listen, it was either that or carve it into your desk with a knife, and I figured that would raise some concerns with your co-workers.”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose again, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like why me?

“But, you do have my number now, so really, the ball is in your court, Hotchner.”

“Is it?”

You nodded, sitting up straighter. “Mhm. And just so we’re clear – I expect a dramatic, over-the-top use of it. Maybe a cryptic, we need to talk text. Or a mysterious meet me at midnight type of situation.”

Hotch’s lips twitched. “You’d rather I text you about urgent matters than, say… just a normal conversation?”

“Aaron Hotchner, are you saying you want to have a normal conversation with me?”

He sighed, stepping back from your car. “Drive home, before I change my mind about letting you leave.”

You smirked, finally turning on the ignition. “Oh, so you let me leave now? That is so controlling of you.”

Hotch shook his head as he shut your door—just in time for you to lift a hand, making a finger phone gesture and mouthing Call me.

tags - @fandomscombine @dohmeti

divider by cafekitsune

[angrythingstarlight]

I like how unassuming malyshka appears. She gets to lead a double life as Bucky’s wife. She’s not in on the business as a partner but she knows more than anyone would suspect and has power over him

You have him in the palm of your hand. Bucky knows it. You know it. His inner circle knows it. Everyone else can only speculate.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

CW: Semi-public smut, mafia Bucky is a menace.

WC: 1K.

A/N: Sinday drabble. Written on my phone, unbetad. Sinday drabbles are back!

It’s enthralling to saunter into one of his restaurants, Bucky only a few steps behind you, and watch the atmosphere change. The conversations waning until all you can hear is the sharp click, click of your heels on the sleek floors. Respect and admiration with a subtle edge of fear permeate the room as he guides you to one of the exclusive areas.

For a business meeting of course.

Or so he claims.

But everyone can see the way he looks at you, his stoic expression can’t conceal his passionate gaze. They notice the way his tattooed hand lingers on the small of your back. Everyone can tell that Bucky wants to eat you up. Strip you bare and devour you like you were a five-course meal and his favorite dessert all in one tantalizing package.

They don’t dare say anything. At least when he’s within hearing distance anyway. Just watching with curious gazes, not even daring to breathe until he passes their table.

Immediately after the door closes to his secluded section, the restaurant explodes in a litany of hushed whispers about the pakhan and his gallerist. Rumors flow wild and rampant over glasses of wine.

Little do they know how true they are.

The pakhan is fucking you. Whenever and wherever you’ll let him. His version of a good morning is to start his day with his head between your thighs. And Bucky has been having a lot of good mornings. Bucky spends his nights finding new ways to coax those pretty little sounds out of your pretty little mouth.

What they don’t know is how much he loves you.

That he’s proud to be wrapped around your finger. That he thinks of you throughout the day, that he spoils you, protects you. That he gives you whatever you want without hesitation.

They’ll never know that he has your name hidden in his tattoos.

They better hope they never discover that he means it when he vowed that he’ll burn the city to the ground if anything were to happen to you.

And Bucky will definitely make sure that no one but him hears you gasp out his name as he pulls you onto his lap the second the waiter leaves with your order. Dress pushed up to your thighs, panties twisted to the side. His large hands bring your hips down as he pushes up into you, inch after inch until you swear you can’t handle anymore. His deep, rich voice in your ear saying I’m almost there, just let me in Malyshka.

You’re trying, you really are, you need this so bad. God after all this time you’d think you’d be used to his size, to how big he is. The way he’s stretching you feels is so incredibly intense. You fist two handfuls of the expensive lace tablecloth as you drop your head next to his whiskey glass.

A slow, controlled roll of his hips and he’s fully inside you. Fuck, you feel so damn good. His low groan sinks into your veins, the sheer desperate neediness in his tone makes you even wetter.

Only you can bring this side out of him.

His pace steadily builds, driving into you with relentless precision, hitting that spot deep inside you like he owns it. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you up until you’re back is flush with his chest. He needs more of you. Bucky cradles your face, turning your head so he can kiss you, his plush lips slot over yours. The lingering taste of his whiskey melds onto your tongue, the kiss deepening with every passing second. His hand drops to your aching clit, drawing languid circles over and over. You cling to him, your nails digging into his wrists. A tight knot of pure hot pleasure forms deep inside you. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.

He inhales your sobs and moans, the frantic noises fueling his desire to ruin you. Going faster, harder until you tighten around him, breaking the kiss with a sharp cry of his name.

His eyes drinking in your expression with pride as your eyes roll back and your mouth goes slack on a soft whimper. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful. If he had time, he get two, maybe three more out of you. But he promised you lunch before you had to go back to the gallery.

And he always takes care of his girl. Because you do the same for him.

By the time the waiter tentatively knocks on the door, you’re back in your seat, trying your best not to look freshly fucked. Bucky’s smirk lets you know you’re failing—it doesn’t help his cum is dripping out of you or that he had just whispered in your ear that if your food wasn’t on its way, he’d be on his knees pushing every drop back into you.

“Come in.”

Still high off your orgasm, you can’t even fake being exasperated when he tucks your panties into his pocket with a devilish wink. You don't even remember him taking them off you. Much to his amusement, you avert your gaze, cheeks burning as people file in carrying trays. If they know what he just did to you, they don’t let on.

Everything is seamlessly served. Plates set in front of you with a flourish, glasses refilled, and the fragrant scents of your meal float through the room. As the last person leaves, your waiter stands at the door. “Will that be all sir?”

“Yes. And don’t worry about bringing a dessert menu.” Bucky leans back in his chair, his darkened, heady gaze caressing your face, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. “I already know what I want."

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2025: OVERGROWTH by Mira Grant.

Plant-astically delighted to report that I received an ARC via Tor (Nightfire) and Goodreads! I love Seanan McGuire's writing, and my first foray into her work as Mira Grant was INTO THE DROWNING DEEP, which was phenomenal (think all the best parts of Michael Crichton--the Science, the Speculation, the Consequences--but women and queer people are Entire Characters)(we love a good sci-fi horror paced like a thriller in this house).

The premise of OVERGROWTH is basically "the pod people are coming, they've been warning you about it for decades, and no one has been listening." Stasia, our main character and (first person, past tense) narrator, has spent her whole life telling people that she's "the vanguard of an invading species of intelligent alien plants," which is confirmed via a broadcast from space.

And the chapters are time-stamped "X days pre-invasion."

Yeah.

This book was an absolute delight and all around a lot of fun--the tone was the perfect balance of funny and heartfelt and relatable and dread-inducing, and it very much read like a love letter to the genre with lots of cross-pollinated references (Seymour? Little Shop of Horrors? War of the Worlds? Jurassic Park? Hello????).

It was also very much a book about the distinction between being human and being a person, and about alienation and belief and trust and friendship, and about queerness and neurodivergence and belonging. And, y'know, mimetic plant aliens, in myriad shades of green.

I was initially surprised by the choice to tell this story in past tense and first person (because DROWNING DEEP was patently not that, and most of what I've read of McGuire hasn't been either), but it turns out that was The Only Correct Way To Do It: For most of the book, Stasia didn't have the full picture of what was going on, but her partial understanding + our readerly perspective from inside her head carried both the relatability and the horror. It was a really interesting and cool way to do an alien invasion book (from the perspective of the invader's plant)(ahaha, botanical pun). Also, the narrative frame made me pterodactyl Hunter shriek my way through the last two pages, which. OOF. WHAT A RIDE!!! I'll be rotisserie-ing over the late-game twist (page 396/465 in my copy) and the ending for a long time.

I loved that the aliens felt alien and all too much like people; I loved Toni and Hunter; I loved the biology and worldbuilding; I loved the botanical quips ("salad bar" is, in fact, the best possible term of address to an alien invader, no notes); I loved the shady government agencies and unethical experimentation; I loved the "we are the monsters you have made". I stayed up way past my bedtime several times for this, and it was worth every second. Do recommend, check this out in May!!

Half-assed spoilery content warnings under the cut (I'm not good at these because I have a weird concept of what necessitates a warning, so please do NOT consider these complete in any way shape or form):

on-page toddler death (graphic, in prologue, signposted with "look away"); transphobia (toward beloved trans character); spider (alien); bug-adjacent (alien); vampirism/blood drinking; other usual horror/alien invasion type tropes etc. (body horror? do people tag body horror?? i was an animorphs kid i'm sorry i don't know what a normal amount of body horror is but i love it all)

[folkwhoreberry]

heyyy, i've had this idea floating in my head for ages but singer!reader x ex!lando - lando reacting to reader releasing a song about how she felt in their relationship and him trying to make it up to her - based on figure 8 by paramore 🫶🫶🫶

Drained

lando norris x reader

or... the one where flowers die and you’re made of thin ice

word count : 1.2k

warning : mm none really, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : figure 8 by paramore

🏎️🧡

you felt lost without him. stuck in the same place, like a cat chasing its own tail.

how couldn’t you? after all this time, a small argument broke everything.

but wasn’t it always this way? lando changed you, for the worse and for the better. but you didn’t feel like yourself, you couldn’t be yourself around him. always… pretending to be this persona you’re not.

the person you are on stage is the real you.

——————

tears appeared in your waterline as the cheers of the crowd filled your ears, the thousands of fans applauding for you and only you.

“I want to sing you a song,” you began to speak, the loud crowd slowly dying down to let you speak, “a song that I never sang to anyone before.”

at that the crowns cheered, obviously excited to hear an unreleased song. who wouldn’t be?

“drained me down to the last drop,” you sang into the microphone as your pianist played the keys in the background. “pearls before swine, all flowers die.”

you kept on singing, the crowd silent as they listened to you, their phones out to record this moment.

tears began to slowly roll down your cheeks when you reached the bridge. “how could I? how could I? if I’m made of thin ice. how could I? how could I? you’d be wise if you thought twice.”

the final note rang out when you finished the song, your voice raw and trembling. you stood there for a moment, letting the silence from the crowd settle, before they erupted into applause. you blinked through the tears, giving them a watery smile and thanking them for being there tonight. but inside, you felt empty, drained, as if the song had taken every last bit of emotion you had left.

as you walked off stage, you could already see your phone lighting up with notifications. fans had posted clips of the performance on social media, the song quickly going viral. it didn’t take long before comments flooded in - speculation about who the song was about, how personal it felt. some guessed it was about lando, and those guesses spread like wildfire.

you didn’t respond to any of it. you couldn’t. you turned off your phone and sat alone in your dressing room, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind kept drifting back to him. lando. the way things had fallen apart so quickly, the way you were still trying to pick up the pieces two months later. the song had been a release, a way to pour out everything you hadn’t been able to say to him.

but now it was out there. and everyone had heard it.

——————

a few days later, you’re scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself, when a clip catches your eye. lando’s name trends on social media, and you click on the video to see him in an interview. he looks calm, his usual smile in place as the interviewer throws him casual questions about racing. then, almost casually, they bring up the song.

“so, lando, there’s a lot of buzz about this song, people are saying it might be about you. care to comment on that?”

lando’s expression barely falters, but there’s a slight tightness around his mouth as he responds. “I’ve heard about it,” he says, his tone dry, almost dismissive. “but I’m not really focused on that stuff. I’m focused on my career, not gossip.”

he gives the interviewer a polite smile, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes, and they quickly move on to the next question. but you know him too well. that answer wasn’t just for the cameras - it was for you.

you put your phone down, feeling a strange mix of anger and sadness. of course he would brush it off like that, pretend it didn’t affect him. maybe it didn’t. maybe you were the only one still hurting.

——————

later that night, your phone buzzes with a text. when you see his name on the screen, your heart skips a beat.

lando: hey. can we talk?

you stare at the message, unsure of how to respond. you hadn’t heard from him in weeks, and now he wanted to talk? after everything?

before you can overthink it, you type out a short reply.

you: fine. when?

he answers almost immediately.

lando: tomorrow. your place?

you hesitate, but finally agree.

——————

the next day, you’re pacing around your living room, waiting for him to show up. when there’s a knock on the door, your heart races. you take a deep breath and open it, finding lando standing there, looking as nervous as you feel.

“hey,” he says softly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in.

the silence between you is heavy as you sit down on the couch. lando leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. for a few moments, neither of you says anything.

finally, he speaks. “I’m sorry.” his voice is quiet, but the words hit you hard. “for everything. I know I messed up. I know I wasn’t… I wasn’t good to you, and I should’ve been. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to pretend around me. that wasn’t fair.”

you bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. you had wanted to hear this for so long, but now that the words are out, they feel almost surreal.

“it wasn’t just you,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t honest with myself, either. I wanted so badly for us to work that i ignored… all of it.”

lando looks up at you, his eyes soft and filled with regret. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says. “but I did. and I can’t change that. I just… I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. really.”

the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. you don’t know what to say, so you just nod, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill again.

“I miss you,” he admits, his voice breaking the silence. “even if we weren’t right for each other, I still miss you.”

your heart aches at his words. because you miss him too, more than you’d care to admit. but that doesn’t mean things can go back to the way they were.

“I miss you, too,” you say softly. “but we can’t - ”

before you can finish, lando leans forward, cupping your face in his hands, and kisses you. it’s soft at first, hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. but you don’t. instead, you kiss him back, the familiarity of him overwhelming you.

when you finally pull away, both of you are breathless. lando rests his forehead against yours, his hands still gently holding your face.

“I don’t know what this means,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

you don’t know either. all you know is that, in this moment, it feels like a step forward - even if you’re not sure where that step will take you.

“we’ll figure it out,” you whisper back.

and maybe, just maybe, you will. or at least you hope you do.

————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : had so much fine writing this!! on the other hand I never had an ex so idk how they work I hope this makes sense😭😭

[goldfades]

★ YOU AND ME, WE'D BE A BIG CONVERSATION─── PB⁵ (part 1/3)

❪ requested -> "paige x famous!reader (singer, actress, up to u) inspired by endgame by ts where p reveals that r is her celeb crush in an interview and a few days later theres a vid of r responding to it saying shes been obsessed w paige lately / its such a big deal bc r has been involved in a lot of romantic drama lately so everyone is kinda iffy abt her rn, causing her to put up a tough guard. but p sees thru the facade when they start talking and allows her to be herself, making r fall even harder 🥹 " ❫ for my disco nonnie!

─ warnings | gossip, a lot of drama and random ass names (sorry i get confused when i don't name them), mention of panic attacks, hurt to comfort, pretty sure nothing else?

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

"Y/N L/N, ONE OF the biggest names right now in the music industry has found herself at the center of yet another romantic scandal involving her ex and now, reportedly a new lover."

The 22-year-old pop sensation, who recently topped the charts with her latest single, was spotted last night leaving an upscale Los Angeles restaurant with actress and heartthrob, Camilla Harrison. The two were seen getting into the same car, sparking rumors of a budding romance.

This sighting comes just weeks after Y/N's highly publicized breakup with fellow musician Lauren Marie, with whom she had a tumultuous on-again, off-again relationship for over two years. The split was reportedly mutual, with both parties citing busy schedules and the pressures of their careers as contributing factors. However, sources close to the couple suggest that Marie was unhappy about Y/N's close friendship with Harrison, which began on the set of her recent music video where Marie made a cameo appearance.

"Y/N and Cam have undeniable chemistry," says an insider. "They've been spending a lot of time together, and it's more than just a professional connection. They're trying to keep things low-key, but it's clear there's something more than friendship between them."

Despite the drama, Y/N continues to thrive professionally. Her upcoming album set to release in the next couple month, is already generating significant buzz. Critics are calling it her most mature work yet, with deeply personal lyrics that reflect her recent experiences.

Meanwhile, Harrison, 26, known for her roles in blockbuster films and her good looks, has remained tight-lipped about the rumors. Her publicist declined to comment, stating that Marie is concentrating on her upcoming film projects.

──

"Okay, next question," the reporter smiled as she scrolled through her phone as Paige gave a tight-lipped smile toward the camera. "Oh! Found a good one, okay. Who is your celebrity crush right now."

"That's easy!" Paige laughed as she glanced toward the reporter. "Y/N L/N, she's beautiful and insanely talented,"

The room filled with laughter as the reporter raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted by the response. "Y/N L/N, huh? That's a popular choice these days, a lot of people are big fans. Have you met her?"

Paige shook her head, her cheeks slightly flushing. "Nah, I wish. But I'm a huge fan of her music. Every song is a masterpiece and I'm not usually into pop,"

"Interesting," the reporter leaned forward, intrigued. "You know, there are rumors about Y/N's love life all the time. How do you feel about all the speculation surrounding her personal life?"

Paige shrugged, maintaining her relaxed demeanor despite the stupid question. "I think it's tough being in the spotlight like that. People forget that celebrities are human too. Everyone deserves a bit of privacy, I'm more interested in her work and what she brings to the music industry rather than whoever she's dating."

The reporter nodded, appreciating Paige's perspective. "Absolutely. It's refreshing to hear someone focus on the artistry rather than the gossip!"

──

"Okay, quick. Who's your celeb crush right now, other than Cam," Bowen Yang, grinned at you, raising an eyebrow as the audience laughed, eagerly awaiting your response.

You laugh (and decide to ignore the comment about Cam), feeling a slight blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, come on, Bowen, you can't put me on the spot like that!"

Bowen leaned in, his grin widening. "Come on, Y/N, the people want to know!" He pointed to the crowd as they cheered, causing you to put your face in yours hands.

You then take a deep breath, pretending to think hard. "Fine, if I have to choose... I'd say Paige Bueckers. She's incredible on the court, and I've seen some interviews with her ─ she seems like such a cool person."

The audience erupts with loud cheers, causing both you and Bowen to laugh. Bowen's eyes widen, clearly delighted by your answer as he clapped. "Ooh, scandalous! Paige Bueckers, I love that! Have you met her?"

You shake your head, smiling. "No, not yet. But I did see a clip of her saying some really nice things about me recently. It was super sweet."

Bowen's face lights up with excitement. "She was practically gushing over you, this is perfect, we need to make this happen. Maybe you could collab, I don't know how but uh, if anyone could make it happen, it's you."

"Thank you, I think?" You laugh, nodding. "Totally, we'll see what happens."

Bowen turns to the camera, his enthusiasm infectious. "You heard it here first, folks! Y/N and Paige Bueckers, the crossover we never knew we needed but now desperately want!"

The audience erupts in applause and cheers, and you can't help but smile at the idea. Bowen turns back to you, his tone shifting slightly more serious. "Alright, before we wrap up, I have to ask ─ how do you deal with all the attention and rumors about your personal life? It seems like you're constantly in the spotlight."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, caught off guard by the serious question. "It's um, definitely challenging at times, but I try to focus on the positive aspects. I love making music and my fans. As for the rumors, I just remind myself that I can't control what people say or think. I stay true to myself and the people who really know me, and that's what matters most."

Bowen nods appreciatively. "Wise words, Y/N. And that's why we love you so. Thank you so much for being here tonight."

"Thank you for having me," you reply, genuinely touched by the support.

"And that's Y/N L/N!"

The crowd erupts in cheers as you genuinely smile, happy for the support, waving toward the audience.

──

"Hey everyone, welcome back to the podcast I'm Lila, and today we've got a lot to talk about. Y/N L/N is at the center of yet another romantic scandal, and there's even a new twist involving basketball star Paige Bueckers. Let's dive in!" Lila said, her enthusiasm palpable.

"Yaya, so excited," Maya chimed in, adjusting her headphones. "So, Y/N was spotted last night leaving an upscale LA restaurant with actress Cam Harrison. They got into the same car, which has everyone buzzing about a possible new romance."

"Yeah, and this is just weeks after her very public breakup with Lauren, I think that's her name? It's been a whirlwind, to say the least. But honestly, I think Y/N is handling it all pretty well. She's focused on her music, and she's just living her life. What's your take, My?" Lila asked, leaning in slightly.

Maya sighed, her skepticism evident. "I don't know, Lila. I get that she's young and living her life or whatever, but it feels like there's always some new drama with her. First Lauren, now Cam Harrison? It's starting to look like a pattern."

"But that's thing, with being in your early twenties. Figuring out what you want, who you want to be with? I mean, she's also incredibly talented and driven. Her new album is generating a ton of buzz and it hasn't even been released yet," Lila countered, her voice full of admiration.

"Sure, but it seems like she's always entangled in some romantic drama. Maybe it's just the nature of fame or whatever, but it can also come off as messy. And now, with Paige Bueckers gushing about her in that interview, it adds another layer. I just hope she’s not stringing people along," Maya replied, her tone annoyed.

Lila nodded, annoyed at Maya's words but maintaining her supportive stance. "I get where you're coming from, but did you see Paige's reaction? She was genuinely excited about Y/N. It was sweet. Plus, Y/N responded so positively on the SNL interview. I think it shows she's got a good heart and she's just navigating her way through a complicated life!"

Maya hesitated for a moment as she glanced at the camera, then continued. "I mean, look at Taylor Swift. She's known for her string of high-profile relationships and breakups, and it hasn't always been received positively. It feels like Y/N is heading down a similar path- What?"

"Come on, Maya!" Lila glared at her, clearly displeased. "Comparing Y/N to Taylor Swift isn't fair. Taylor's faced a lot of unfair criticism for just living her life and expressing herself through her music. Y/N is her own person, with her own journey. She's navigating her twenties in the spotlight, and that's not easy."

Maya just shrugged as she glanced toward the camera, before adjusting her mic. "Well that got awkward, moving on..."

──── COMMENTS

sela 🐾 | is she wrong though... love her music but why'd paige gotta get involved too? ♡ 108

↳ l/nslover | cause they like each other???

↳ 🦕 | has bro ever heard of a pr relationship 😭

↳ ari! | THEYRE NOT EVEN TOGETHER YET BROOO😭😭😭

sarah™️ | LILA GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE BROOOO 😭😭 i never liked maya tbh this is just a weird ass take ♡ 1.7k

kayla 🎀 | listen as a y/n girly i also understand maya's point of view cause.... shes kinda for the streets ♡ 879

↳ ™️ | dont call yourself a """"" y/n girly """""" if ur gonna say she's for the streets??? the fuck??

⭐️ | i was understanding maya's pov up until she started saying all that taylor swift bullshit, they're two separate artists LET US LIVEEEEEEE ♡ 2k

josie may | hardest watch of the day 🥲 maya u let us down with that dumb ass take

──

"I just kinda... wanna disappear for awhile," you confessed, your voice quiet as you pressed the phone to your ear. "Don't know why this keeps happening, you're the only that can... help me through it. Sorry if I woke you up-"

It happened again ─ over the last couple of months (ever since you'd broken up with Lauren) you'd gotten pretty severe panic attacks. You were told by everyone on your team to just stay off social media and what had you done... exactly the opposite of that.

"No, no, I was awake anyway, promise," Paige's voice echoed through the phone. You heard shuffling through the phone as you sniffled, sighing. "And I don't mind, like at all. I meant what I said, I'm always here for you,"

Your heart swelled as you managed a smile, as tears began to build in your eyes. You and Paige had only been talking a month and she already understood you more than anyone had in what felt like forever. Her steady presence was like an anchor in the storm of your life.

The constant media scrutiny and the aftermath of your breakup with Lauren had left you feeling alone, but Paige’s calming influence was slowly becoming your safe haven.

"I just... I don't know how to deal with all of it. The rumors, the pressure, it's all so overwhelming," you admitted, wiping away the tears that had started to fall. "Half of it, it isn't even true."

"Hey, it's okay, I know, I believe you," Paige's voice was soothing, almost like a warm embrace over the phone. Even the smallest affirmation from Paige made you feel all okay again, even if it was just for the moment.

"You're not alone in this. We can figure it out together, step by step."

That part made your lips twitch up in a smile, feeling yourself relax again. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit of the tension ease from your shoulders. "I just feel like I can't breathe sometimes. Like the walls are closing in, y'know?"

"I get it," Paige replied softly. She'd know about it all too well, she'd been through it herself plenty of times. "Sometimes it helps to focus on the small things. One step at a time, remember? Have you tried any of those breathing exercises I taught you?"

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. "Yeah, a little. They help, but it’s hard to remember in the moment."

"Next time you feel a panic attack coming on, call me. Anytime, okay? We'll get through it together," Paige's voice was firm, reassuring. "You don't deserve the shit they give you, like at all."

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you, P."

"You don't have to thank me. I care about you, and I wanna help. Plus, I like hearing your voice," Paige added with a light chuckle, trying to lift your spirits.

You couldn't help but smile at that. "Me too, especially your cute tired voice."

"Cute, really?" Paige laughed through the phone and you swore you felt like your whole world felt even again. "But uh, if you do really wanna disappear you can always come to Connecticut."

The thought of escaping the relentless spotlight, even for a little while, sounded like a dream. "Really?"

"Yeah, you can stay with me for a bit, if that's uh... what you want." Paige explained through the phone. "My friends are super chill and it's always a fun time, if you ever wanna come. Think about it?"

The idea of spending time with the basketball player you'd quickly become enthralled with, seemed almost like a dream. And getting away from LA and all the madness that came with it sounded heavenly, you were going to give Connecticut a thought.

You sighed, feeling a warmth spread through you that had been absent for far too long. "Yeah, I will. And Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. Really."

"Anytime, Y/N. Sweet dreams."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[savanir]

Death of the Father, Death of the Son

Part 3

prev and OG prompt

Dick was just about finished with his preparations in the Batjet when one of his brothers barged in and dumped some of their stuff inside as well.

“I’m coming with you” Tim straps down the case he brought and plants his ass in the copilot seat.

Dick looks at him with a slight frown, “Tim…”

“no I want to see the murder scenes with my own eyes and it’s good for you to have some backup-”

“I’ll be just fine on my own babybird-”

“-cause we don’t know if this is just one assassin or a whole organization”

“ok. and now you can tell me the real reason you want to come along”

Tim gives Dick a side-eye before slumping down“... Alf has been talking with Bruce about me needing fresh air again and I rather do that preemptively and on my own terms so you’re just gonna have to accept you’re stuck with me on this one now”

Dick sighs, and ruffles Tim’s hair before strapping himself in the pilot seat and ignoring the indignant squawk from his brother, “sure, fine, Oracle we’re heading out now”

“have a safe trip Nightwing”

and they are off

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

Amity Park is about what they expected, outwardly nothing remarkable, somewhat sleepy. But upon closer inspection the signs of multiple battles are quite clear.

Though apparently it’s been quite a while now since the last “ghost” battle. There is a lot of speculation as to why among the town folks which could be important to look into some other time, but for now the boys put a pin in it and get to breaking and entering the old Fenton household for their investigation.

Things seem to be normal inside the house but… ahem, well...

Tim inspects all the strange tech that looks just haphazardly slapped on the walls with a critical eye while Dick lifts one of the family photos to have a better look.

“looks like a normal average american household to me, even with mom and dad preferring to wear hazmat suits everywhere apparently” there really aren’t any pictures where they aren’t wearing the orange and teal suits. Madeline Fenton wasn’t wearing one at the Gala though, she looks a lot more comfortable in these pictures.

Dick looks around some more, “is it just me or does this place just feel… depressing?”

“yeah no I get what you mean, there is nobody here but I also feel a lot like I’m intruding” Tim hums, “more than normal that is”

“Red…” 

Tim elects to ignore that tone of voice completely, “there is no way any of this stuff is even remotely up to code” he then peeks at the picture as well, he of course already knew what the murdered father and missing son looked like, he’s done his homework, but this is a casual happy family picture, that always drives home the fact that these were- are real people. 

but how did they all get dragged into this situation, this mess that is slowly turning into something a lot more complicated… maybe… well that’s why he’s here. To figure it out.

The stairs that lead to the basement lab are in the kitchen for some reason, and once down there they both need a moment to take the whole place in.

The entire house is rather abandoned but this place looks as if it hasn't been touched since the police did their own investigation.

There is some tape and markers that were left behind but overall it looks a lot like a hurricane went through it, exploded, and then everything got covered in a fine layer of dust.

Tim opens the case he brought with him and begins setting up the holo scanners to make a copy of the whole place that they’ll be able to project in the batcave later, in case they miss something now.

It's only after that’s done that they start to have a look themselves.

“Even this badly wrecked it definitely looks like some sort of evil lair” Tim mutters as he inspects the nearest vaguely firearm shaped object, or maybe it’s a hair blower he’s not sure, it’s got Fenton Works™ stamped on it though.

“is that a portal” Dick meant it as a question but it ends up sounding like a statement.

It gets Tim’s attention though, “I… maybe?” it kinda looks like one potentially, busted up to hell though.

Dick carefully approaches it but doesn’t for a second think about going in there,“Mostly looks like a hole in the wall now though, I’m not going in there to check with all those wires on the ground, talk about a trip hazard. Not to mention the threat of electrocution, has nobody here heard about cable management?!”

“where is your sense of adventure Wingster, besides I am pretty sure this place is cut off from electricity now” 

“yeah, I’m not taking the risk with sketchy evil lair portals today” 

Dick lets Tim do his own detective work while he takes out a little device Batman made to alert him to Deadman. He figures it would be interesting to get a read on the place and see if it's really ghosts that have been causing a mess in Amity Park or if it is something else that just appears paranormal.

The ecto-detection goes completely wild however. “Alright well… uhh”

"What's that?”

“I was just curious if something occult was going on around here what with everyone blaming the past attacks on ghosts and thinking that whatever happened here probably has something to do with them as well… but I'll be honest, Boston never registered anywhere near this high. And it's just - everywhere”

“So any further investigation into Amity Park itself is gonna have to be done by Dark?”

“probably” though Tim is also fully planning on doing a full investigation himself.

Either way, they put a pin in that too.

They have a good look at the areas where bullets made an impact, scorch marks and the broken examination tables. They are about done when Tim asks if it would be worth it to break into the local police department and have a lot at (steal) whatever evidence they might still have on the case.

They could have something useful, unless it is who Dick really hopes it’s not. 

They leave the basement and are greeted with the sight of two teens in the kitchen.

hm…

Dick decides to just go with a cheery hello,

“Holy shit it’s Nightwing and Red Robin!” Tucker basically has stars in his eyes.

“After the message we got from Jazz I kinda expected the big bat”

“That's not true, you said after all this time you didn’t think they were actually gonna come at all- ow!” Sam doesn’t hesitate to  hit him in the shoulder. 

“Didn't think we'd show up” Tim says.

“Well am I wrong?” Sam sneers, “the only reason you guys are here is cause it’s a Gotham thing now. Otherwise someone actually competent would have looked into this months ago”

Tucker shrugs sheepishly and looks a little pained, “perhaps we shouldn't antagonize the Justice League heroes?”

Sam looks about ready to start hissing, it reminds Tim somewhat of the demon brat when he's particularly upset. “whatever” she says.

Tucker now has a strained smile, “uh, if you guys were wondering how we knew you were in here, that's because Jazz asked us to keep an eye on the place”

they tripped an alarm? how… Everything in here is cut off and disabled. some sort of battery based system maybe? but they would have surely picked up on that…

Dick figures he might as well just go ahead and ask some questions so he takes a seat and the other two follow suit more at ease than the two birds expected. Tim decides to wander a bit more around the kitchen. Maybe there is something he missed here.

“so, I'm just gonna go out on a limb here and assume that you two also think Daniel-”

“Danny” Sam corrects immediatly 

“-yes Danny, you two also think he's still alive?”

The question is immediately answered by a, “yes” and a, “he is”

“Jazz also seemed very certain of this despite the fact that a body was found. what makes you all so sure?”

Sam looks ready to spring into another tirade, Dick is starting to suspect that she has a serious issue with ‘not being taken seriously’

“Jazz told you guys already about the clone thing right? just go to Vlad's estate and it's all there in his evil basement laboratory”

“and we also know someone who can check deaths through occult stuff, and they confirmed that he has not… you know, crossed over”

“occult like magic?”

“or something, they were never wrong before. we do realize this isn't hard evidence obviously but they are a friend and not the type to just tell us what we want to hear” this is the easiest way to explain that they got in contact with the ghosts to have them look through the realms for Danny.

“I'd like to speak with-”

“that's gonna be hard, they don't show up with all the government people crawling about”

“so that individual with proof cannot be reached so we can’t verify their claims”

“nope”

unfortunate, but they did already say it wasn't hard evidence. It seems that these two aren’t going to budge on it which seems a little odd to Dick, there are known magic users in the League. Someone being able to check into the afterlife or whatever to see if someone is truly dead isn’t completely out of left field, it should be fine to meet with that person and at least hear them out… so why are ‘’government people’’ an issue? are they possibly wanted for some crime? oh well…

“when we went to them it was mostly just to know. you know? like… mr. Fenton got murdered and Danny went missing, and nobody knew anything or could find anything. Everyone suspected ghosts of course. and we just wanted to know if our best friend was dead or not, if searching was even worth it”

“and now the fruitloop got assassinated. to us it basically also confirms it you know. he's still alive, and it would absolutely be best to shut up the one guy who knows about the whole thing”

But why smear Masters? Why not do it quietly? And what makes Daniel so special?

Tim just knows he's going to end up with more sleepless nights because of this.

In the end the two teens aren’t actually all that cooperative. It seems they actually have mostly shown up to check what was going on inside the Fenton household, Tim and Dick decide not to push them too much then and there, figuring they could visit Master’s estate first, verify the clone allegations, and after that get back to these two, perhaps when they get more intel and have something more substantial to work these then Sam and Tucker will be a bit more forthcoming as well.

Only time will tell.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

Slade had to go on some solo mission and at this point he's okay with leaving the boys to handle themselves, Danny eagerly takes the opportunity to do his own thing. 

Aka, going after politicians to get the acts repealed. Making deals with the ones who value their lives and can see a good opportunity when they are presented with one and getting his name out there. If he’s an actual threat people will be forced to listen. 

This day though he lands a hit that the supers in Metropolis somehow know about…

someone somewhere snitched, or… they are compromised. A worry for later.

"Memento Mori, they say you're trained by the Deathstroke and that you have an absolute success rate. And that you only kill your target and no one else on one of your assignments... but today all of it is coming to an end because with my tactile telekinesis I-" 

"If I had known that all I had to do to meet a real life alien was to act up a little I would have gone down this road a lot sooner" Danny leans against the AC unit on top of the apartment building they are currently on.

Kon splutters, "what?"

"Alright, okay, clone of an alien, which to me is still basically the same thing. Very cool, honestly, if you ask me, even better"

Kon puffs up, "well I am pretty awesome if I say so myself"

"Absolutely, out of this world some would say"

Kon snorts, then remembers what's actually going on here, "are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe? Is it working?" Kon pouts and makes a so-so gesture. "I do mean it though. You're easily in my top five favorite aliens"

Kon blushes quite prettily "Uhm, well I... oh wait aliens? Not heroes?"

"Ah, yeah well about that, I guess I'm not a fan of that? Especially not currently. What with you being in my way and all that"

"Oh so if I were to politely ask to not kill the lady"

"Yeah I'm still gonna do that, sorry"

Kon sighs, "well in that case I'll-" 

He promptly gets knocked back by an impressive punch to the face. Mostly stunned by the fact that it properly hurts and then realizing Danny can move at all.

"You got distracted" and gives him a wink.

Kon rubs his jaw, "Oh you think you're cute"

"not just cute, I am adorable" and Kon just knows this smug bastard is grinning at him under the mask he can’t see through.

He really wishes he didn't have a thing for dark haired spunky dangerous people.

"... it- it doesn't matter, even with your freaky assassin skills there is no way-"

"You're a bit of a terrible match up against me though, no offense" Danny is trying to not overuse his abilities. He doesn't want the justice league to know about all of them. but it'll turn into a messy and long fight where neither come out on top if he sticks with the regular stuff. And that would allow backup to arrive and make things even more complicated... 

"Damn... I just don't have time for this"

Kon makes sure he's prepared to intercept anything Danny might throw at him now.

"If you go invisible I'll just follow the sound of your heartbeat"

"Oh" Danny turns his heart off. He can't do that indefinitely while in human form though, but this will do for this fight. "How about now"

"What the-? Are you alright!?"

"Awww you’re worried? That's sweet. Supersweet one could say," Danny turns invisible, "you should really be more worried about yourself though Superboy"

Kon tries if he can keep visual with his X-ray vision, he thinks about trying to do a sweep for even the slightest disturbance with his TTK field when a freezing cold shiver shoots up his spine.  

There is a moment of silence where nothing and nobody moves and then Kon can hear Superman in the distance. 

"Kon! What's going on!"

"That little- he slipped away!" 

"That's unfortunate... meet up with Kara at Miss Holloway’s location. Together we'll be able to stop him there"

"No I think I can-" Kon tries to argue

"Superboy" superman sounds stern 

"... fine, I'm going"

Kon makes a direct beeline for the target location and a grin can't help but spread over his face. He pushes his sunglasses up a bit more to hide the glowing green eyes. 

Now that he got to this point he’s getting back to wondering who tipped the supers off though. Having to switch to plan B was rather annoying. 

And he still absolutely doesn't like overshadowing people but what can you do… mission first, personal and ethical little hang ups second.

Superboy went under so smoothly though, Danny wondered why that was until he did a careful skim of the surface and sensed the roiling self hatred. He suspects that'll do it.

Danny feels sorta bad though, Superboy really is up there in his list of coolest things this world has to offer. He'll have to make it up to him after this is all over somehow. In a way that won’t compromise himself, and also avoid the old man knowing. 

It's then that he realizes he's arrived at the target location, it's showtime!

"Here I am"

Kara gives him a wave and he smoothly touches down, it really is a good thing he already knows how to fly and stuff, makes the whole pretending to be a Kryptonian thing a bit easier. "Got away huh?"

He huffs, "he can just turn his heartbeat off, how was I supposed to know that?"

"Deathstroke's protégé's are on a different level for sure. But even they have a limit"

Right... sure... underestimate him, very smart...

Not that he can really blame them. They probably think he's a baseline human with maybe some meta abilities or just a new upgraded Ikon suit.

"Can I see the tip off?

"Again? Sure. Though I doubt you'll see anything in it that we haven't seen yet. Oracle is trying to trace it but..."

"Hm, what if..." yeah some of this was very familiar, "what if it's Deathstroke and he's treating this whole thing as a screwed up training exercise?"

"That... I sure hope not"

"He's insane enough for that though"

"I hate that you could be right"

The silence stretches. 

"Are you alright Kon?"

Danny startles a little, "Yeah! I'm just, frustrated"

"Ah, don't worry. With the three of us standing ready it'll be fine. We'll catch him" she presses her fist in her open palm.

Danny feels a careful smile spread on Kon's face. 

"Hey, you check up on the lady and I'll make it look like I'm not involved in all this. Kal is close by and after that we'll try that thing with you spreading your TTK field super far"

Using Superboy's ability as a net? Interesting. "Gotcha"

Supergirl nods and then takes off and Danny figures he might as well just get this whole thing over with now. 

The lady is right there, she barely acknowledges him when he politely greets her. Rude…

And then he snaps her neck. 

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

"Youuuu" Danny storms up to Slade with vicious green overtaking his usual blue, “you fucking motherf-”

"Boy-"

"Don't you boy me. You sabotaged my assignment!"

"False accusations?"

Danny gives him a look that screams ‘are you for real…’ "Of course I took a moment to investigate. I had to know if we had a leak. But you tipping off the supers you absolute-"

Slade nods, satisfied that Danny looked into the matter, "You were fine, you need to be challenged to learn how to adapt to any situation. The moment things become complicated you resort to your abilities"

"Get off it old man I'm only half human of course I'm using my damn abilities, they are a fucking part of me! You though- You're the biggest dick in the universe and-"

Any civilized conversation quickly ends after that as it gradually devolves into a physical fight.

"Bastard" Danny mutters as he focuses his healing to fix his black eye first. 

"Cool down brat” Slade says, looking no worse for wear, “We'll go over the whole thing in more depth later" and the veteran assassin leaves the room. 

Danny fumes as he handles his patch up himself. While doing so he allows himself a moment of self loathing. 

He hates that he's making progress getting the ecto acts removed. "working" with the people who are happily removing the thing and getting rid of those that ignorantly want to keep it in place. 

He hates that the G.I.W are easier to handle with his new skillset.

He really hates how easy this is getting. 

And he really really hates how there was zero hesitation to overshadow Superboy and use him. 

He can't wait till this is over, one way or another.

[willowsnook]

When Love is Left Unspoken pt. 3 (MV)

max verstappen x reader

tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @maluzets55 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @what-a-curated-mess @anilovessadbooks @how-what-why-huh @abbyandersonstargirl

pt. 1, pt. 2

After Brazil, you flew back to New York to catch up on brand content and the stack of books waiting for you. It was a rainy afternoon when just after filming your October reads, your phone pinged. Max was streaming. You'd turned the notifications back on after Austin but hadn’t actually tuned in.

Setting up your phone in the kitchen, you half-listened to him playing Minecraft as you started dinner. Then you heard him say your name, and you froze.

“Lots and lots of questions about y/n, I see. I’m trying to win her back, guys, so I need your help. Any suggestions?”

You smiled as you scanned the chat comments.

Move to NYC

Let her drive your F1 car

Fly her out to all your races

Propose

With a grin, you couldn’t resist joining the fun. Typing quickly, you sent a comment that lit up the chat.

Y/N: $500 worth of books is a good first step, I think.

The next morning, your doorman called. “I need you to come down and get these packages. There are way too many.”

Confused, you walked downstairs—only to be met with a pile of Barnes & Noble boxes and realization hit. Back in your apartment, you opened them to find 25 books from your Goodreads “want to read” list. Your heart swelled.

Y/N: Max! This was too much!

MV: Nothing is too much when it comes to you.

Later that day, you went live on Instagram, answering questions. Predictably, most were about Max. Your fans were torn, with some excited at the idea of you two rekindling and others still wary.

“Look, I get it. He did me dirty, but it’s complicated. It’s easy to say I shouldn’t even consider this, but we have 15 years of history. He’s… still my Max.”

A comment caught your eye.

Maxverstappen1: Glad to know I still have a chance.

The chat erupted, and before long, gossip accounts were tagging you in posts speculating on your relationship.

That evening, you were winding down with a glass of wine, just about to turn on the Thursday Night Football game, when there was a knock at your door. With a sigh, you shuffled to answer it, already irritated by the interruption—until you opened the door to find Max standing there.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, surprised.

“Oh, I was just in the area,” he said casually, his eyes gleaming, though you spotted a duffel bag at his feet.

“In the area? With your luggage?”

“Mmmhmm.” He grinned as you laughed, letting him in. He set his bag on the counter and pulled you into a warm hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“We’re supposed to be taking it slow, Max,” you reminded him, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Whatever, schatje.” He rolled his eyes as you led him to the couch. He plopped down beside you, lifting your legs onto his lap, and you couldn’t help but relax into the moment.

“How long are you staying?” you asked as he pretended to watch the game.

“Until Monday, if that’s okay.”

“And you just assumed I’d drop everything to host you?” you teased.

“Yeah,” he replied, turning back to the screen.

“Ugh, you’re impossible.”

He smirked. “Cheer up, schatje. I got us tickets to the Bills game on Sunday so you can see your team. And I get to see Daniel.”

Your face lit up. “Daniel’s going to be there?”

He narrowed his eyes, a hint of jealousy flickering. “Yeah. Don’t act too excited.”

You laughed, entwining your fingers with his, grateful for these small, familiar moments.

The next two days were spent showing Max around NYC, and you started to fall back into your old habits with him. He refused to let go of your hand anytime you were walking somewhere, and you felt his eyes on you everywhere you went. 

It was Saturday night, and you were waiting for a table outside of a restaurant, watching as Max took a selfie with a younger fan. 

“Is that your girlfriend? She’s pretty,” the young girl said, and you blushed. Max shot you a big smile. 

“She is pretty, but not my girlfriend. She will be soon,” he replied, and the girl giggled. 

Max led you to your table with one hand resting on your lower back. You’d chosen one of your favorite Italian restaurants, and you're eager to put a nice bottle of wine on his tab, of course. 

Sitting across from him, you felt nervous at the intimacy of the setting. His eyes were swimming with emotions of the past and where you were now. 

“I want to hear everything that has happened to you since I last saw you in Australia,” he said inquisitively. You took a sip of your wine before diving in. 

You told him about your channel growing and getting famous guests on the podcast. How you’d moved to New York a year ago for a change of scenery but still visited back home often. You told him about your friends who had started getting married and having kids, but you weren’t jealous of them; you were very content in your life. You described NYC at Christmas and how the first time you experienced it, you felt like you were in a different world. He listened as you mentioned a few guys you had briefly dated, and he was pleased to hear that none of them had worked out. 

Finishing up your monologue, you meet Max’s gaze and notice the lingering sadness in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked concerned. 

“I’m just thinking about all the stuff I missed,” he admitted, looking down. “All the stuff I should have been there for. How could you ever forgive me?” 

His eyes glistened, and you thought for a moment before replying.

“Because I want to believe that the Max of the past is still there,” you said softly. “You broke me down, but I survived and kept going. As much as it hurt, good came out of it. Maybe we needed time to be away from each other to grow up. I don’t know if I can ever forget what happened, Max, but I can try and forgive.” 

He reached across the table to grab your hand, “I don’t deserve you.”

“You definitely don’t,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

—------------------------------------------------------

The next day, you bundled up in your Bills gear and headed off to meet up with Daniel before the game. He was supposedly at some random person’s tailgate, so you and Max wove through the hoards of people to get to him. Watching Max in this environment was very amusing as it was just another world of people; not a single person had stopped him to ask for a picture. 

“Hey man,” Max greeted Daniel, pulling him into a hug. “Enjoying retirement?” 

“I get to do this now, so of course,” Daniel joked before turning to you. 

“What’s up y/n? It’s been a while,” he said, eyebrows raised, and you knew a million questions were running through his mind. He had been Max’s teammate for a little while back then, so you knew him well. 

“It has,” you agreed. More and more people joined the tailgate, and you could tell Max was getting on edge. 

You were conversing with Scotty and Daniel when you grabbed Max’s hand, pulling him closer to you to ease his discomfort. He took your invitation, sliding behind you with his arms wrapped around your chest, his head resting on the top of yours. Daniel gave him a big smirk, and you rolled your eyes, moving your hands up to hold on to Max’s. 

Max had no idea what was happening during the whole game but he still enjoyed watching you get so excited. The way your face lit up in excitement was something he was committing to memory, hoping he would get that same look from you soon enough. 

After the game, you walked back to your apartment, the city lights twinkling as you strolled through the crisp November air. Max kept your hand firmly in his, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a way that made your heart race.

Inside, you set your things down, still buzzing from the excitement of the game. Max shrugged off his jacket, glancing around the apartment as though trying to memorize every detail.

He looked over at you, his expression softening. "You know, this place really suits you."

You smiled. "Thanks. It finally feels like home."

There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you. Then, he spoke again, his voice laced with a vulnerability you rarely heard from him. "I want you to come to the Netherlands with me for the holidays. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d love for you to see my family again and… just, maybe, have you close."

You looked at him, surprised. His gaze was steady, unwavering, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. You could see he was waiting for an answer, for you to trust him again enough to take this step.

“Max…” You hesitated, your mind racing. A part of you was scared of what it would mean to spend Christmas with him and his family—to be a part of his life again. But then you looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the man who had always been there, in some way, over the years.

A smile crept onto your face. “Alright. I’ll come.”

His face lit up in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time. He pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead softly. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

You laughed, suddenly feeling warm and at ease. "I guess we’ll see how much Dutch I remember."

As he held you close, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you were ready to see where this new chapter with him would lead.

[sanjoongie]

Breed! Chapter 5

Speculate

ღPairing: alien! Yeosang x human! Reader (f) x human! san ღGenre: smut with no plot ღAu: alien!teez ღTrope: s2l(aliens), established relationship(San) ღWord Count: 3,565 ღWarnings: San's restrained again, oral fixation (m), coming untouched (m), pre-spoken consent with San, overstim (m), Yeosang calls you sweetheart, San calls you Babe, cum play, cum eating, sexual punishment (?), finally Jealous San, experimental groping, nipple play, outerjob (rubbing cock against labia), scratching (m), thick cock! Yeosang (that's my agenda!), penetrative sex without a barrier, San once again with his verbal/physical instructions he just can't help himself, 'just the tip' moment, creampie, colored cum ღRated: 18+ MDNI ღBeta’s~ @downtoamagicalland ღSummary~ Hongjoong is at his wits end and decides to get back in power and remain in the room. When he sends his next most level headed alien to fuck you, he does not get the desired results

ღChapter 4~ Unfamiliar | Mini Masterlist | Chapter 6

When you, San and Mingi entered the observation room, Hongjoong was animatedly talking with another new alien. This one had the face of an angel and the body that almost rivaled San’s. The closer you got, the easier it was to hear the discussion the two aliens were having.

“What do you think is the common denominator then, Yeosang?” Hongjoong hissed in frustration.

Yeosang’s eyes slid towards San and you hugged San closer to yourself. You had once worried that with the breeding mission they had, that eventually the aliens would have no need for San. You needed them to have a need for San. You didn’t dare think of the alternatives. 

“It’s her mate. Seonghwa was able to successfully ejaculate inside the female when the male was restrained. He’s been the spark that’s been setting off other reactions. He needs to go.”

San brightened at the idea of being restrained again. “Oh, the masturbating ropes? I could give those a go again!”

You hushed San and he looked a little let down. “San isn’t going anywhere,” You insisted.

Hongjoong turned and narrowed his eyes down at you. “You are becoming less and less agreeable the longer you remain amongst us, human. I am no longer fond of these interactions.” His head snapped back to Yeosang. “Are you sure these two were chosen at random? Could the human’s have infiltrated us? What if they do not truly want us to learn of their mating rituals? Are they sabotaging us?”

Yeosang shook his head, his hair swooshing along his forehead. “No, Captain, I don’t believe that is possible. We observed them for days and researched all aspects of their lives. They are not attached to any human government or societies. They simply…” Yeosang waved his arms around for lack of scientific words, “...fuck.”

“They do know a lot about fucking,” Mingi agreed.

“Then we will attempt to reenact what Seonghwa did with the human. Mingi and I will observe, the human male will remain but restrained, otherwise the female will not be cooperative. And you will fuck her,” Hongjoong commanded.

Yeosang pointed a finger at himself. “Me?!” He said in disbelief, “Not you?”

Hongjoong shook his head, a flash of emotion passing through his eyes. He wasn’t scared… was he? “I do not think it wise for me to be the next one.”

“But I’ve hardly studied…” Yeosang swallowed loudly. 

Hongjoong motioned with a sharp jerk of his chin at you. “The female is well versed. She can guide you.”

Yeosang eyed you warily. “I do not trust her.”

“Well, I don’t either but unless you want Seonghwa down here, we don’t have much of a choice,” Hongjoong snapped.

“Where is our old pal anyways?” San wondered.

“Seonghwa is being decontaminated. It seems that your Babe’s cunt has done something to Seonghwa that is making him act more human than our kind. He wants to be with his Comet and fuck her more than necessary and that is… unsettling,” Hongjoong admitted.

You frowned wistfully. Was Seonghwa pining for you somewhere in the spaceship? You had worried that you had got him in too much trouble. You kinda missed him too, with his open wonder and innocent curiosity but also ferality in regards to your body. 

“Perhaps this is the cost of copulation,” Yeosang speculated, “Your mind is lost to the female you fuck.” Yeosang shivered. “That is dangerous.”

Mingi was sending you glances. “That is dangerous.”

It was hard to not laugh at the fact that even aliens understood the allure and dangerous hold a female’s pussy had on a male. Some things did not change despite species. 

Hongjoong motioned with his hand that he wanted Yeosang to get this over with. “Mingi has disproved the ritual to lick the last cock that was in the female as a sign of respect so there is no need for you to do it,” Hongjoong commanded. 

There's a hint of pink to Hongjoong's cheeks. Did he think he was a fool for his theory? Is that why he was so angry with you?

San sighed heavily. “There goes that fun.”

Hongjoong snapped his fingers. “Jongho. Restrain this male human.”

“San,” your boyfriend insisted with his signature pout. “Come on, Hongjoong. You licked my dick! Surely we're on a first name basis.”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched in anger. “Gag him too.”

The ropes were back but they remained stationary. Clearly the aliens had learned that San was not helpful to their cause, so they weren't going to give him any extra pleasures. 

“Well, that's disappointing,” San lamented. 

In response, a rope came out, tiny tendrils escaping the end of it, and wrapped around San's tongue. Then it moved into San's mouth and expanded around his face, effectively holding his tongue. But San closed his eyes. Oh god, the aliens didn't know what they were doing. You, of all people, knew how much San loved when you sucked on his tongue.

“Let's get this over with,” Yeosang said haughtily. But his eyes scooted around everywhere. He seemed nervous.

“Shall we figure out a name you'll refer to me as? I do hate the term human with a passion.” Your gaze couldn't help but cut towards Hongjoong.

Yeosang vehemently shook his head. “That is a part of the power you hold over the others. Mingi is our most loyal soldier. Seonghwa has one of the greatest scientific minds on this ship. You've reduced them to slaves for your body. I'll not give you the satisfaction.”

“You don't think that perhaps there's a reason your kind has removed the chance to procreate? Sure, it's more efficient and less messy with emotions, but sex is a powerful thing simply for the pleasure it brings. Could it just be that having sex is good but your kind view it as bad because it can't be quantified?”

Yeosang raised his chin stubbornly. “It's just a bunch of chemicals popping off in your brain.”

“If it's not something you're supposed to feel then why does it exist in the first place?” You challenged him.

“Yeosang, just do as she asks!” Hongjoong insisted. “She has to be willing or it won't work! She needs to be creamy!”

Mingi sent a long look at Hongjoong, who was pink again as he perceived the look Mingi was sending him. “Wooyoung was wrong. He doesn't know more than me,” Hongjoong insisted.

“Well… I… watched the things you call films. There is this concept called romance between you humans,” Yeosang admitted.

You can't help but smile. Yeosang is stuttering through his logical thoughts, proving your point. You can put certain aspects of a human into a box but it's a whole other can of worms when you're going through it. “Mmm?” You prompted, smile getting wider.

Yeosang’s eyes got wide and now his cheeks are pink. He whirled around to confront Hongjoong. “I can't do this. I'm untried. If not you than surely Mingi could fuck her?”

Mingi took a step forward immediately but Hongjoong placed hand on the taller man's chest. “No, Yeosang, he's had some experience now. I need your unfiltered opinion. I only trust you now. Please.”

Yeosang scratched the back of his head and laughed. “How does sweetheart sound?”

San made distressed noises and your eyes went to him immediately. “San? What are you doing to him?” Your head whirred around to the direction Hongjoong had spoken to the alien in control of the ropes around San. “Jongho! Release him immediately.”

Hongjoong turned to where the other alien Jongho must be and threw his hands up in frustration. “You're going to let a human order you around too?”

The ropes unwound around San and he almost collapsed, if not for his fast reflexes catching himself. “San?!” You cried out his name.

You patted over his body, sure you were going to find something wrong with him. When you found nothing, you grabbed his head between your hands. “Tell me what's wrong right now.”

San hummed, sounding like he had just… Your eyes moved down to San's pelvis, where there was a wet spot. “San!” You screeched.

“I'm not sorry,” San said in a low, satisfied voice.

“You idiot,” You scolded your boyfriend. “I thought you were worried about Yeosang’s pet name for me.”

San laughed, grinning and biting down on his lower lip. “Sweetheart is kinda hot, actually, now that you mention it.”

“You hot idiot,” You muttered again. 

You made an impulse decision. You undid San's jeans and yanked down both his underwear and pants in one swift motion. You buried your face in his pelvis and took his soft cock in your mouth to suck off all his cum.

“Hhnnnnn, fuck fuck fuck, oh god, I'm so fucking sensitive, ahhhhh,” San whined but he didn't stop you. You knew your boyfriend loved being overstimulated.

You rose with your mouth full. 

“What are you doing?” Hongjoong cried out.

“She's got…his seed in her mouth,” Mingi said in awe.

“Swallow it!” San pouted. 

You turned to Yeosang, who looked partly shocked and partly excited. You grabbed his head the same way you had grabbed San and slanted your mouth across his. You stuck your tongue in Yeosang’s mouth, pushing San's cum into the alien's mouth. Yeosang moaned loudly, his arms coming around your body and hugging you to him.

“He accepted?” Hongjoong sputtered.

Mingi looked from you and Yeosang, back to San. “Is this another trick?”

“Babe!” San continued to whine and pout. 

“Is it… punishment?” Hongjoong guessed next.

You broke the kiss with Yeosang. You could still taste San in your mouth. “Don't look at San. Don't respond to anything he says. Pretend he's not even there. Help me punish him?”

“I don't…” Yeosang struggled. 

“What did you do wrong?” Hongjoong demanded from San.

San dejectedly pulled his pants up and did himself up. “I made her worry when I was just doing something perverted.”

“But I thought… aren't you the one in charge?” Mingi’s eyes were big and confused.

San looked bashful. “In the bedroom, yeah… you could say that--HEY, ARE YOU GRABBING HIS ASS?” San yelled that last part at you.

You tilted your head flirtatiously at Yeosang. “Do you like that?”

Yeosang swallowed loudly. “I like how it feels?”

“What about this?” You asked as your other hand groped his chest.

San’s head fell in his hands as he lamented. “Not his tits.”

“This is confusing,” Mingi admitted.

“You were so enthusiastic about her being with others?” Hongjoong pushed to understand.

San pouted and spoke. “She… she loves my butt and my chest. She's personally attacking me. I'm sorry! I couldn't help myself! Babe! It was sucking my tongue!”

Yeosang made a garbled noise as your thumb flicked over his nipple. “And that?”

“I…” Both of you looked between your bodies, seeing and feeling Yeosang’s cock twitching between your bodies. “I really like that.”

Yeosang let you push off his robe and he was immediately naked. Your hands spanned over his broad shoulders.

San clasped his hands together and started to beg on his knees. “Please, I'll make it up to you.”

“I'm gonna lie down on your robe and you should brace yourself above me, with your hips between my legs,” You instructed, deftly grabbing Yeosang’s robe from the crooks of his arms.

“Are you… are you going to mark up his back? I said I was sorry?” San continued to plead his case.

“She is merciless,” Mingi said in awe.

“This is the danger of being a slave to her pussy, Mingi, look at him! He has the body of a warrior and he is crying for her attention. Is that what you want to be now?” Hongjoong demanded.

Mingi looked like Hongjoong wasn't going to like what he was about to say. “I only had my cock between her breasts. But--”

“Don't answer that,” Hongjoong cut off the taller man quickly.

Once you were in the desired position, you wriggled your underwear down your legs, and it hung from your ankle. “I'm going to need you to rub yourself up and down my lips, okay Yeosang? Like Hongjoong said, I need to be nice and creamy for you.”

“I can--” Yeosang laughed in spite of himself. “Is this how they all feel? Being lured by you?” Yeosang shook his head and  took the position you had instructed. Then he began to flex his pelvis so that his cock ran up and down your somewhat moist folds.

You tossed your head back, digging your nails into Yeosang’s shoulder blades. “Just like that, Yeosang,” You encouraged him.

Yeosang moaned beautifully at the sensation he was getting. “Feels good,” Yeosang continued to moan. He changed angles and accidently pushed against your hole.

“Not yet!” You whined. You wrapped your hands around his biceps that were straining to hold his body off yours, and pulled your body up. 

“Just the tip!” Yeosang insisted, his cock following your moving body. 

“It's never just the tip,” You said through gritted teeth. “This isn't my first rodeo, Yeosang.”

You moved high enough that Yeosang slipped out of you again. He choked back a sob, listening to you regardless of what his body was telling him. You reached between the two of you and grabbed the base of his cock with both hands. This way, you were able to manually rub Yeosang over your wet inner folds and smear your wetness over your clit.

You closed your eyes, rocking to the feeling of Yeosang’s smooth cockhead rubbing your clit. This left you a little vulnerable, however. Your arms pushed your breasts together, and although still partially covered from your shirt, still made them look appetizing. It also allowed San to creep up beside you.

“Look how cute she looks under you,” San whispered to Yeosang. “She's getting all that pleasure from your cock. You're doing that. Isn't that worth giving up some control?”

“Don't listen to him,” You whispered fiercely.

“BABE!”

“I'm ready, Yeosang.” You moved Yeosang’s cock to your hole and looked up at the alien. “Push inside of me but please go slow. I know you’ll want to just slip all the way in but that would hurt. And we don’t want to be hurt during sex.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But I liked when your nails dug into my back?”

You smiled. “Let me rephrase that: we don’t want to hurt because of sex.”

“Ahhhh,” Yeosang said in confirmation he understood the distinction.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Yeosang slowly but surely pushed into your wet cunt. He was thick enough that you needed the time to adjust. You removed one hand to allow him more room. 

You watched Yeosang curiously. Sweat beaded at his hairline. He laughed nervously at your gaze. You gripped his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Are you okay, Yeosang?”

“I’m the alien but why do I feel like you’re watching me?” Yeosang admitted. 

“I want to make sure you’re okay. This is your first time. You are okay, right?”

Yeosang narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “I’m the one penetrating you? But yes I’m fine.”

You removed your other hand and whimpered as Yeosang pressed fully into you. Fuck, he was stretching you. “Oh, fuck.”

“Suck on your finger,” San said mischievously, still not having vacated his spot by the two of you. “If you play with her nipples, she will come quickly. You want to get this over with, right?”

“San!” You hissed.

“Right?” San persisted.

You both watched Yeosang struggle with his inner turmoil. “I…” He swallowed loudly. “Would you enjoy that…sweetheart?”

You and San moaned in unison. 

“I would Yeosang but…” Your mouth went dry as Yeosang maintained his stance over you with only one hand and then he sucked down on his forefinger.

“No, wait.” 

San reached over and pulled Yeosang’s finger out of his mouth and pushed the alien’s thumb between Yeosang’s lips. Yeosang allowed San to guide his hand down to your breast and San showed Yeosang where to rub, after pulling your shirt out of the way. San’s eyes were glued to Yeosang’s wet thumb rubbing circles around your nipple, making it pert. 

“Close your mouth, for goodness sake, Mingi!” Hongjoong scolded the alien beside him.

Mingi did so but his eyes were big and wide and vulnerable. “You have no idea what it feels to suck on them, Hongjoong. You don’t get it.”

“Yeo-Yeosang,” You couldn't help but stutter as he played with your nipple at San’s prompting. “You should start moving.”

Yeosang slowly dragged his eyes up from your boobs to your face. “Huh?”

You wrapped your legs around Yeosang’s body and nudged his ass with the heels of your feet. The movement shifted Yeosang inside of you and you both made noises. “Pull out and then push back in.”

Yeosang watched with wide eyes as he pulled his cock out and it was covered in your slick. “You’re so creamy.”

You bit down on your lip playfully. “Just for you, Yeosang.”

Yeosang watched as he pushed back into you, slowly. He did the back and forth, at a pace that almost made you wanna kill someone, if not for the knowledge that you were with a virgin and Yeosang didn’t know any better. You couldn't snap at him like you would have with San. But then again, San would have had a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing how much the pace made you impatient.

“You can go a bit faster, Yeosang,” You encouraged him.

Yeosang sped up his pace but he quickly found that your body was moving and he had to chase it if he was to remain inside of you. That’s when he cupped your ass with his free hand, to keep you close to his body. 

“Fuck, oh, oh god.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“Speed is good but…” San tilted his head. “He needs a better angle.”

San moved behind Yeosang and placed his hands on Yeosang’s hips. Yeosang’s eyes went wide in distress. 

“You need to brush up against her g-spot,” San murmured. His hands guided Yeosang’s hips.

“Did he help you like this?” Hongjoong demanded of Mingi

The taller alien nodded, still slack jawed at the show of Yeosang fucking you. “He did. A rite of passage between friends. He informed my trial run. He is… my master?”

Hongjoong facepalmed in response. “They said they gave me the best of the best aliens to work with.”

San's head popped up over Yeosang’s. “Is that better, Babe? You gonna come? Surely one of these aliens can make you come,” he spoke in pout.

“You little rascal,” You gasped at San.

Your boyfriend smiled like he was a cat that got his cream. “Yes?”

“It's not about me. It's about Yeosang coming inside of me,” you insisted.

San pouted harder. “It's always about you!”

“I--” Yeosang moaned when his deep, rough voice made you clench harder down On him. “Can't we both experience pleasure together?”

“Awe,” You couldn't help but whimper. “You do your best, okay Yeosang?”

Yeosang’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “It is about two people. I believe it is an exchange. Two bodies deserve two orgasms.”

“You do not need to make the female orgasm in order to procreate,” Hongjoong protested.

San shot a glare towards Hongjoong. “And this is why you haven’t fucked her yet.”

Hongjoong’s spine suddenly became ramrod straight, as if what San had said was insulting. “That is not true!”

“She does make nice noises though,” Mingi brought up. “It does help the process.”

“Not helping,” Hongjoong said through gritted teeth. 

“Both of us,” Yeosang said firmly.

You nodded, smiling encouragingly. “Together.”

With Yeosang’s hand firmly on your ass to keep you close to him, he fucked into your cunt, at just the right angle that he was rubbing that good spot inside of you. Your cries began to crescendo and soon you were squeezing down on Yeosang, your orgasm washing through you. Yeosang came after, a lusty, loud cry as he spurted inside of you. He chased his high and you let him, drinking in the look on his face as he came. 

“Yes!” San pumped two hands in the air like he won a sport’s game.

“How was that?” You wondered, brushing some hair from Yeosang’s face.

“That was… that was…” Yeosang gasped and struggled to find his words.

Mingi sighed. “Yeah…..” His deep voice echoed through the observation room.

“That was amazing,” Yeosang settled on. He blinked continuously. “Can we do that again?”

“Hey Yeosang, you wanna do us a favor and pull out of Babe for a moment?” San asked.

Yeosang did so and the three of you watched as liquid sunshine spilled from your cunt.

“The yellow cum somehow matches you, Sangie,” You couldn't help but giggle.

Yeosang giggled too in response and then straightened his face. He looked at Hongjoong next.

“Perhaps…” Hongjoong walked around you three with one hand behind his back and another at his chin as he contemplated everything. “Perhaps it is good to have an instructor. Perhaps it is better that we abducted a couple, for this purpose.”

The alien’s sharp language cut through the air. You could practically see the gears turning in Hongjoong’s head. “Ah, Wooyoung’s back. I think I know what we should try next.”

ღChapter 4~ Unfamiliar | Mini Masterlist | Chapter 6

Breed! Taglist: @st4rhwa @tiny-apocalypse  @is4b3ll3s @mulletjoonsupremacy  @lavishloving @trivia-134340 @fr34k4c1dr41n @kibs-and-bits @fix0nbb

[hxlda-hxlda]

“Of course not, Sirius, we’ve been married for years.” 

famous interview au oneshot thingy inspired by @sebbianas post which you can find here!!!! read the idea and could NOT get it out of my head until she was sitting in a google doc, and now here. enjoy:

“Now, since you came out in that viral Instagram post…” 

Sirius sighs, doing nothing to hide his exhaustion for what he knows is to come. 

The original intention behind the whole fucking thing was to stop the constant questions. The:  

‘Sirius, you wore a skirt to that event so who are you dating because, clearly, the two have to be correlated?’, ‘Sirius, you’ve always been a bit different’, ‘Sirius!’, Sirius–’, ‘Sirius…’ 

He’d hoped—stupidly, naively—that to get rid of the ambiguity would get rid of the incessant wondering. Sure, he fucked men, yes, he wore eyeliner and skirts, no the two weren’t really related, now can we please move the fuck on? 

No. No, we apparently cannot move the fuck on. The questions and the speculation and, and, and; it’s all still fucking there. 

“Sirius, there’s been talk of a relationship with bass player Remus Lupin for a while now. New rumours are sparking since the two of you have been spotted together a lot lately.” 

They’re both thinking of those pap pictures leaving the bar last month. 

“We were wondering if you could give us the inside scoop?” Greg is staring at him like he’s asking something new, like Sirius is actually very eager to share with the world the complexities of his relationships, as if it has anything to do with his modelling. It doesn’t, if you were wondering. Fucking men has nothing to do with a runway, either, actually. “Really, what is going on between the two of you?”

Sirius has been given press training many, many times, to field these kinds of questions. His agent, Gideon, had him memorise all the correct responses back to front, upside down. Curveball questions, sneaky implications, you name it; Sirius knows how he should respond to this. Hell, it’s on a fucking flash card.

His gut response, the thing Sirius is suddenly incredibly eager to do, is definitely not on a flash card.

However. But, but, and hear him out:

By fucking god, he was bored.

Greg had asked the same ten questions every other interviewer of the last year had asked with the same glint in his eyes as every other interviewer of the last year. Fame was great, but nobody told him it would be this goddamn boring. Repetitive. So many 'yes's and 'no's and 'wouldn't you like to know's.

So, Sirius proceeds, entirely disobeying those oh-so-holy flash cards.

“It would be an honour to give you the scoop, Greg, my dear,” Sirius says with a grin, shoving his hand into his back pocket. 

The interviewer’s eyes light up over his mic. 

“So-” When Sirius pulls out his phone, the glint is dimmed by confusion. “What-” 

“Why don’t we ask him right now?” 

There were strict rules about this, phones when live, phones during interviews, etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah. Sirius knew them all as well (see: a different set of flash cards). Sorry Gideon, Sirius thinks as he goes straight to his Favourites. He isn’t sorry. 

“Ask… who?” 

Sirius just winks. The call is already on its second ring. 

On the fourth, Sirius is almost worried Remus won’t actually pick up, but not really. Remus always picks up. 

Well, he always picks up when Sirius rings. Once, Marlene had called fifteen times in five minutes before Remus had responded two hours later with a ‘what?’ text. The man stuck true to his self-proclaimed Luddism, after all. 

On the fifth ring Greg is looking sceptical. Sirius knows Remus is also working right now. He’d mentioned a meeting with some producer. He remains confident nonethless. 

On the sixth ring, the call clicks as it is answered. A beat. And then: 

“What?” 

Remus sounds entirely unenthused to be answering a call at this moment, voice sullen. Sirius grins anyway, thrilled he’s picked up at all. As if he wouldn’t. As if he doesn’t always. 

“And hello to you, too.” 

“Aren’t you meant to be on that radio thing right now?” 

“We are, in fact, live at this very moment.” Sirius glances back to Greg who, despite being the host, has immediately lost all of his perceived-control. He’s watching Sirius blankly, only vaguely piecing together the fact that it is famed, award winning, world’s greatest (not that Sirius is at all biassed) bass player Remus Lupin’s voice coming through Sirius’ phone. Sirius smirks amusedly at Greg before turning back to the conversation at hand. One that finally fucking matters. “Good to know you’re listening in and supporting me, as always.” 

“Believe it or not, I have better things to do right now.” 

“You wound me, Moons.” 

That nickname did wonders on Twitter when it first became known, Sirius having slipped and referred to Remus as Moony in some other interview some other time. There's a ship name now. There are fanfictions. Sirius reads them aloud as dramatically as he can muster (which is, believe him, very) at the most inopportune times. Usually when Remus is busy, just to watch that cute little frown line in his forehead appear. 

“Is there a point to you interrupting my work, and also national radio, with this call?” 

“What if I just wanted to speak to you?” 

“I will hang up right now.” 

A lie. He never hangs up first. 

Sirius sighs again, another exhausted thing. “They want to know if we’re dating.” 

“Who?” 

“They. Everyone. The world. Greg.”

Sirius shoots the host another look, whose look of momentary shock has dissolved into interest. Hunger. This is the scoop, apparently. Like the both of them, Sirius and Remus, haven’t already been asked this question to death. 

“Greg?”

“Y’know, the guy with the grating voice on the station that plays the same five pop songs on repeat.” Gideon is going to kill him for that one. Sirius sends another silent apology he does not mean. 

“Ah, Greg.” 

Greg is frowning now. Sirius grins again. 

“So? C’mon Moons, tell us. They’re all waiting eagerly. They want to know,” he repeats.

“They always want to know,” Remus replies bluntly. 

“They’re in an extra persistent mood today.” 

When Sirius cuts his third look at Greg, he has the audacity to look entirely unapologetic, as if Sirius’ public life as a model translates to that of his private life. As if it makes total sense to badger him for months—no, scratch that, years—on who Sirius is and isn’t fucking, and whether or not, god forbid, they aren’t a female. 

“You can’t tell them yourself?” Remus’ voice distracts him from his angry spiral of thoughts. 

He could, of course. He has, a million fucking times, given an answer. Sirius even has his flash cards, for fuck’s sake. But this is much more fun. 

“Just answer the damn question, Lupin.” 

“You didn’t ask a question, Black.” 

Sirius rolls his eyes, incredibly aware this is dragging through the interview’s very minimal time slot. Good. 

“Are we dating, Remus?” he asks seriously (ha). 

A moment of silence. Sirius holds the phone closer to the mic, closer to his own ear. He can’t help himself, he wants to know how Moony will handle this as well. Then: 

“Of course not, Sirius, we’ve been married for years.” 

Greg’s eyes widen to saucers. Sirius keeps his face neutral, an impressive feat that would rival even Regulus’ own acting skills, if he says so himself, and Reg won a Tony last year. 

“Ah, how could I forget?” Sirius says instead of breaking into the laughter that he so desperately wants to roll into a heap with. “My husband.” 

“Truly, how could you? Should we consider divorce now?” Remus replies, voice as indistinguishably sullen as always. Sirius knows he’s smiling with his eyes, he can hear it. 

“Now that would make the papers.” 

“Certainly… Is that all?” 

“Yes, yes, go do your music-y things now.” 

Sirius can hear the eye roll as well. “Fine.” 

Sirius hangs up. He tucks the phone back into his pocket, taking his time. Then, then, he looks back up at Greg. The interviewer is a picture of shock, maybe a touch of confusion; wide eyes, jaw loose with a mouth that hangs, equally wide. 

“Well, Greg, how was that for a scoop?” Sirius raises a single, manicured eyebrow. 

“Wa– Was he being serious?” the man all but splutters. 

“What? No, of course not, I’m Sirius, silly.” 

“That’s not–” 

“Greg! I’m offended! Do you forget the names of all your guests? We’ve been talking for almost an hour now!” 

The longest fucking hour of Sirius’ life, mind you. But the rest of it goes by much faster and much more pleasantly, as Greg struggles to move on from that little show. It makes the dressing down from Gid all the more worth it. 

And by the time Sirius manages to check his phone again, emerging from hell (or Studio C, call it what you want) hours later, #wolfstar is already trending on Twitter. He screenshots it, sends it to Remus. 

pads !!!!!!!!!   

look what uve done  u menace 

MOONY ❤️‍🔥😍🌕

Fake news.  Lily and I are planning to run away together, actually.  

Sirius huffs a laugh. Sure, fake news.

[frankingsteinery]

i’ve seen a lot of people in general agreement of the headcanon that victor is on the spectrum, but i’ve very rarely seen someone examine the why, and being the persnickety superfluous person that i am (and not being immune to projection myself) i thought i’d try my hand at it and break down his autistic traits!

disclaimer that this interpretation is speculative and is simply my unprofessional neurodivergent opinion + it’s based on contemporary understandings of psychology, which were not part of shelley's context, however autistic people have always existed even if there wasnt a word for it during that time period, etc etc. you know the drill

without further ado!

-- communication & social interaction

first and foremost, many autistics struggle with socialization. victor’s inclination to attach himself to a single friend (henry) and only talking to those inside of his close circle rather than forming many connections reflects this tendency, and he himself acknowledges his dislike and indifference of strangers. for example:

“It was my temper to avoid a crowd and to attach myself fervently to a few. I was indifferent, therefore, to my school-fellows in general; but I united myself in the bonds of the closest friendship to one among them”

“My life had hitherto been remarkably secluded and domestic, and this had given me invincible repugnance to new countenances… I believed myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers”

furthermore, he lacks relationship degradation (he does not require regular interaction or relationship maintenance to sustain a bond). during the creation process, he (presumably) goes months without writing to his family and friends, which clerval lectures him for:

“Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear from you so seldom. By the by, I mean to lecture you a little upon their account myself."

yet upon his arrival at ingolstadt:

"...nothing could equal [his] delight on seeing Clerval."

victor also takes things literally several times and social nuances can fly over his head. he demonstrates this literalism when first meeting elizabeth:

"And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine"

and, of course, the infamous i will be with you on your wedding-night scene, when the creature obviously means he tends to harm elizabeth, not victor himself:

“It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your wedding-night.” I started forward and exclaimed, “Villain! Before you sign my death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe!"

he also goes nonverbal and groans/vocalizes instead of speaking when upset. there's several instances of this that i can recall (i believe another is with walton), but i could only find one, where elizabeth has to speak for him during their visit to justine:

"When she saw who it was, she approached me and said, “Dear sir, you are very kind to visit me; you, I hope, do not believe that I am guilty?” ... I could not answer. “No, Justine,” said Elizabeth"

and this is more of a sidenote but he gives walton every. minute. detail. of his story, including his childhood in-depth (which was not particularly relevant to the moral of victors tale, which was the whole reason he wound up sharing his story in the first place) which definitely feels like. Something. reminiscent of infodumping almost.

-- repetitive behaviors

victor shows both repetitive motions and repetitive language to such an extent that it'd be ridiculous to put them all here, particularly when he is distressed and agitated. some of these motions include clasping his hands, covering his face with his hands, and gnashing his teeth, which he does on walton's boat, after finding out about william's death, in his confrontation with the creature, during his time at the orkney islands, etc. the use of certain phrases/verbal repetition  include his many "great god!"s and "begone!"s, which he usually says in reaction to the creature or while grieving a loved one. these behaviors are arguably self-stimulatory (stimming) and done to cope with overwhelming, stressful situations.

-- fixations/spinterests

ths one's perhaps his most blatant characteristic. victor has a highly focused, intense interest, initially in in the workings of the world itself:

"It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn... still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical, or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world."

"The world was to me a secret, which I desired to discover;"

"I have described myself as always having been imbued with a fervent longing to penetrate the secrets of nature"

this is to the extent that his education is noticeably different from his peers, both in acceleration in the topic of his choice and neglect of other, more typical studies due to the intensity of this focus:

“I confess that neither the structure of languages, nor the code of governments, nor the politics of various states possessed attractions for me.”

“…but by some fatality the overthrow of these men disinclined me to pursue my accustomed studies.”

this early fixation eventually narrows into a special interest in ancient alchemy, after victor finds one of agrippa's works and a "new light seems to dawn upon [his] mind," upon which he proceeds to acquire all the works of agrippa and other authors:

"When I returned home my first care was to procure the whole works of this author, and afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read and studied the wild fancies of these writers with delight; they appeared to me treasures known to few besides myself"

this remains his special interest until he is a teenager, upon which, after finding out ancient alchemy has been disproven, he takes up mathematics until his arrival at ingolstadt. then, his interest shifts into a fixation on natural philosophy, particularly chemistry, which becomes his "sole occupation":

"He concluded with a panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall never forget... one by one the various keys were touched which formed the mechanism of my being; chord after chord was sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception, one purpose"

"I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination, which modern inquirers have written on these subjects... the stars often disappeared in the light of morning whilst I was yet engaged in my laboratory. As I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that my progress was rapid. My ardour was indeed the astonishment of the students, and my proficiency that of the masters"

which, of course, develops into an interest in physiology and the structure of the human frame, which leads to his obsession over the secret of life, followed by being "thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit" during the creation of the creature.

-- intense, volatile emotions; resistance to change

in general, victor is very emotionally demonstrative, and has difficulty managing these emotions. he also experiences quick fluctuations in emotion. this is something he has experienced since childhood, and is something he maintains as an adult, when he acknowledges that:

"My temper was sometimes violent…"

some examples of these shifts in emotion:

"My heart, which was before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy..."

"Sometimes he commanded his countenance and tones and related the most horrible incidents with a tranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like a volcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression of the wildest rage as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor"

hand in hand with his emotional dysregulation, he shows resistance to change and has strong reactions to this change. the most obvious example of this is during the animation of the creature:

"The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of human nature... but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart"

"Mingled with this horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment; dreams that had been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space were now become a hell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete!"

but it also occurs when moving to ingolstadt, suggesting a discomfort with unfamilarity and a need for stability:

I threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away and indulged in the most melancholy reflections. I, who had ever been surrounded by amiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestow mutual pleasure—I was now alone.

-- black-and-white thinking

this aspect is most clearly shown through the way victor thinks about, and drops and gains interests and relationships. he spends years studying ancient alchemy and it is his principle interest, and then drops it on a dime and suddenly looks upon this passion with contempt:

“By one of those caprices of the mind which we are perhaps most subject to in early youth, I at once gave up my former occupations, set down natural history and all its progeny as a deformed and abortive creation, and entertained the greatest disdain for a would-be science which could never even step within the threshold of real knowledge. In this mood of mind I betook myself to the mathematics and the branches of study appertaining to that science as being built upon secure foundations, and so worthy of my consideration”

later, he spends four years with his mind filled with "one thought, one conception, one purpose" studying the processes of life so intensely he forgoes adequate food, water and rest. this culminates in the creation and subsequent animation of the creature, which he again turns around and abandons this interest immediately, to the extent that he cannot bear to think of natural philosophy:

Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the beginning of my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even to the name of natural philosophy.

it's a very polarized, all-or-nothing approach that is mirrored with his relationships, too, which he alternatedly neglects -- he cuts contact when he goes to ingolstadt but abruptly picks it up again when henry comes into his life; when the creature flees victor's apartment, victor treats it as if he never existed entirely; his family only comes to the center of the narrative again when he gets the letter from alphonse about william's murder, despite 2 years having been passed at ingolstadt, etc.

and finally;

-- low empathy

victor repeatedly focuses solely on his own internal emotional experience, and struggles to fully comprehend and understand the depth of feelings of others and respond with compassion in conventional ways. during justine's trial, for instance, he elevates his own suffering above justine's, even as she faces her literal execution:

I rushed out of the court in agony. The tortures of the accused did not equal mine; she was sustained by innocence, but the fangs of remorse tore my bosom and would not forgo their hold.

Despair! Who dared talk of that? The poor victim, who on the morrow was to pass the awful boundary between life and death, felt not, as I did, such deep and bitter agony. 

similarly, victor dismisses ernest's grief after william's death, he frames it in terms of how it affects himself -- telling ernest to "be more calm" to avoid causing his own discomfort:

Ernest began to weep as he said these words. “Do not,” said I, “welcome me thus; try to be more calm, that I may not be absolutely miserable the moment I enter my father’s house after so long an absence.

this detachment suggests not deliberate cruelty (victor very clearly loves his family, and he's said to be kind several times) but a limited capacity to process and respond to other's emotions. this is a detachment that extends to his views of the dead. during the creation of the creature, he refers to the corpses he utilizes as only "materials" instead of once having been fully-fledged human beings, and he does not contemplate the lives or dignity of the deceased.

aaaaaand thats it! thank you for indulging my. headcanon projection land. let me know what you all think...

[clarkeyhill]

☁️Plus one | George Clarke

[ You were George's plus one for his sister's wedding, you were good friends and worked on multiple brand deals with him. He couldn't think of anyone better to ask than you, you knew him inside and out and his family took to you very well, you notice how his energy shifted towards you throughout, more than a friend would you could say]

The theme was Smart casual, nothing too dressy but nothing too dull. You opted for a baby blue formal dress, one that wasn't too revealing but hugged you in the good places. You wore your hair in a messy curled bun as you applied light makeup. You were getting picked up soon to be ready for the wedding at 12. You felt nervous but not sure why, you'd met them lots of times but not the whole family. What if they think you're dating? The thoughts rush through your mind as you slip on some low heeled heels, a pair that wouldn't hurt your feet from all the dancing. You place some dangly earrings in as your phone buzzes

G: "I'm here are you ready?"

You: "yeah, on my way down now"

You grab your matching clutch bag and head to the lift, you make you way out of the flat to see a smart looking George in a beigey white tee, smart trousers and a big grin "you scrub up well" he says greeting you with a hug "not too bad yourself clarkey" you say with a soft smile, you get into the car as you make your way to the venue. You decide to address the elephant in the room "they don't think we're dating do they?" You ask he chuckles at it "no, don't worry" he says as a sigh of relief washes over you, although you wouldn't mind the speculation. You pull up after a 20 minute drive as you stomach turns, George gets out the car and walks round to your door to help you out "m'lady" he jokes with a fake curtsy "you're such a gentleman Mr Clarke" you snigger as you take his hand, you notice a few people watching you with beady eyes as you slide out the car, patting down your dress. He offers you his arm for you to link into for the walk up the cobbled pavement, knowing you could get unsteady with your heels; you interlock your arm and make you way up to greet his mum and family.

Butterflies form as you get to the top of the path as his mums smiles down at you "oh she looks gorgeous" you say to George "she's not the only one" he says, looking at you, catching you off guard. You scuttle over to his mum as you embrace her in a hug "ooo we've missed you" she says squeezing you tight "aw me too it's nice to see you again, you look lovely" you say to her "so do you! I love the colour" she says pulling away to have a closer look, George stands there rubbing his neck "come here geo" she says to him as he moves over with arms open, she whispers something in his ear which you don't quite catch. You then walk in to go get seated. The ceremony finishes as George gets up for his speech, you see his nerves kick in as his face drips white "you've got this, don't worry" you say pacing a hand on his thigh for reassurance; his mum spots this and smiles towards you "I don't know why you two just don't get together" she says with a soft smile as you laugh it off.

The after party draws in as his sister has her first dance, you sit in awe of the celebration as George sits smiling ear to ear "she looks so happy and content" you say to him, as he wipes a tear from his eye "she does, I'm so happy for her" he says with a sniffle as you smile back at him; the night continues and the free bar hits you a tiny bit, you and George were both tipsy at this point as George's mum and sister invite you for a dance. You slide up as you shuffle across, holding hands with them both as you dance; his sister glances at George to see him staring at you with so much love "y/n, my brothers in love with you" she says, you turn to her confused "what? How do you know?" You say back, "just look at him" she says as you turn your head and there he was, looking at you like he'd just won the lottery, hearts in his eyes as he watched you dance with his family, you slotted into his world so perfectly it was undeniable. You smile at his sister as you walk over to him "hey can we talk?" You say holding your hand out "yeah sure, is everything okay" you nod as you lead him out into the receptions garden. You perch yourself against the brickwork as you look at him "I can't help but think you invited me here for a reason" you say, hoping his sister was right; "what do you mean?" He says acting oblivious "the way you've looked at me, the comments about how I look, it just I don't know, feels like this was more of a test to see if I slotted into your world" you say with a slight smile, he sighs as he cups your hands "I'm glad you picked up on it, I don't know how much longer I could've hid it" he says with a nervous look "it's true, I did invite you here for more of a reason than just a plus one, I wanted to see for myself how my two worlds could work in the same room and they just match so effortlessly" he says with a smile "I like you, a lot y/n and todays opened a door for me to see that I want to pursue something with you, that's if you want-" you interrupt him with a kiss, something so passionate as if you both had wanted it for a while, you interlock your lips for a while as his hands snake round you waist, you both pull away and look at each other under the moonlight "of course I do George, I've never wanted anything more" you say with a sweet smile. You hear a wave of applause coming from the inside as you turn to the door, everyone was looking at you as you plant your foreheads into each others, giggling to yourself "I guess we don't need to worry about what they're going to say about the idea of us" he says laughing with you; "I guess not" you say, planting another kiss onto his lips, something so innocent form the beginning turning into a sea of love, a weight was lifted of both of your shoulders as you walk back into the venue "it's about bloody time!" His mum exclaims hugging you both as you laugh, ending the night on a special moment, you were excited to see the future of you both develop from today onwards.

-

[folkwhoreberry]

I NEED MORE MILES HAMILTON X VERSTAPPEN READER

Against The Odds pt. 2

hamilton!oc x verstappen!reader

or... the one where the past rivalry doesn’t stand in the way of something new.

word count : 749

warning : none, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : lost in japan by shawn mendes

part 1 part 3 part 4

🦁🧡 X 🤙🏾💜

it started with a few photos - innocent enough. you and miles walking side by side in the paddock, laughing at some inside joke. nothing unusual, right? you had grown up around the track together, so people didn’t think much of it at first.

but then there were more. strolling the streets of monaco, sunglasses on, heads dipped low, yet still unmistakable. miles’ arm brushed against yours in one photo, and in another, you were standing by the marina, a little too close, faces turned toward each other. the media, of course, took notice.

speculation grew quickly. blogs, fan accounts, and sports news outlets all started running with the idea that maybe, just maybe, something more was going on between a hamilton and a verstappen. f1’s most famous rivalry turned love story? the headlines were wild. people began dissecting every little interaction between you and miles - every glance, every laugh, every time you were seen together in the paddock. they wanted to believe it.

the questions started popping up during interviews. after qualifying one afternoon, lewis was asked directly about the rumors.

“lewis, a quick question - your son, miles, and max’s daughter have been seen together a lot lately. is there anything going on between them?”

lewis, already aware of your relationship but not one to feed into media speculation, smiled and shook his head. “they’re just close friends,” he said casually. “they’ve known each other since they were kids. people like to make up stories, but there’s nothing to it.”

the reporter, sensing lewis wasn’t going to give much, tried again. “so, no truth to the rumors that they’re dating?”

lewis laughed lightly, deflecting with ease. “no, no truth to that. like I said, they’re friends. anything else is just people trying to stir things up.”

over in max’s interview, the question was just as direct.

“max, your daughter and lewis’ son have been seen together a lot recently. is there anything more than just friendship between them?”

max, who was fully aware of the relationship but not willing to confirm anything to the media, smirked slightly. “nah, they’re just friends. people like to talk, you know how it is.”

the reporter pressed further. “but they’ve been spotted together quite a bit, even outside the paddock. are you sure there’s nothing more going on?”

max’s expression didn’t waver. “yeah, I’m sure. like I said, they’ve been close for years. people can speculate all they want, but I don’t get involved in that. they’re just kids having fun.”

despite both lewis and max denying anything more than friendship, the media refused to let it go. each time you and miles were seen together - whether it was grabbing snacks in monaco or walking through the paddock - there were more whispers, more rumors.

“they’re relentless,” you muttered one afternoon, as you and miles walked back from lunch. the sun was setting over monaco, casting long shadows on the streets, but you could feel the weight of people’s stares even then.

“let them talk,” miles said, sliding his sunglasses back onto his nose. “they don’t really know anything.”

you sighed. “yeah, but it’s hard when our dads keep denying it. I mean, I get why, but…”

miles stopped walking and turned to you, his expression soft. “I know it’s frustrating, but our dads are just trying to keep things private. they don’t want the media blowing this up into some huge story.”

he was right, of course. both lewis and max had been supportive of your relationship, but neither wanted to give the media more fuel for the fire. they preferred to keep things under wraps, letting people speculate but never confirming anything.

“yeah, I get it,” you said with a small smile. “it’s just… a lot.”

miles reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “we’ll keep it quiet as long as we want. our dads are on our side, even if they’re denying it. and if people find out eventually, we’ll deal with it then.”

you nodded, feeling comforted by his words. the media could speculate all they wanted, but the truth of your relationship was something you, miles, and your dads had control over. and as long as you had that - your little bubble of privacy - you could handle the rest.

you leaned into miles, the two of you walking side by side along the harbor, knowing that no matter how much the world wanted answers, you weren’t ready to give them just yet.

————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : oh miles hamilton my beloved🤍🤍 part 3 soon!!

[goldfades]

★ THE HARD DECISIONS LEAD TO THE GREATEST REWARDS ─── prologue

─ pairing | paige bueckers x fem!reader

─ word count | 2.4k words

─ warnings | unedited, some angst, coach misunderstandings and the feeling of being alienated, transfer-talk, nothing else? little r and p content but this is just the foundation, there will be a lot more coming!

─ ev's notes | as you guys know (OBVIOUSLY) my inbox is open for thoughts on this series and i'd love to know what you think so far, and maybe ideas for future chapters or even the plot itself since i don't have everything figured out just yet. anyways, hope you enjoy this prologue! ily all! mwah mwah

⇨ missing out on updates? check out the masterlist for my series!

May 2022

In a surprising turn of events, collegiate basketball powerhouse UConn has just secured a major coup with the addition of Y/N L/N to their roster. Y/N, once hailed as one of the brightest prospects in the 2021 recruiting class, has announced her decision to transfer from Arizona to UConn.

The news of Y/N's transfer from Arizona to UConn has sent shockwaves through the community, sparking speculation and excitement about the impact she will have on her new team. The timing of Y/N's decision, coming just weeks after the Wildcat's loss to UConn in the NCAA tournament, has led some to speculate about the impact of that defeat on her choice to transfer.

At UConn, Y/N will join a storied basketball program led by legendary coach Geno Auriemma. The Huskies, known for their tradition of excellence and strong team culture, offer Y/N the opportunity for a fresh start and a chance to rediscover her passion for the game.

"We're thrilled to welcome Y/N to the UConn family," says head coach Geno Auriemma. "She's a dynamic player with a bright future ahead of her, and we can't wait to see what she brings to the team."

──

March 2022

The buzzer echoed throughout the court and the UConn girls cheered loudly as they ran up to their teammates on the bench. You felt a lump form in your throat as you swallowed back the tears, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Slumping onto the bench, you buried your face in your hands, the sting of tears threatening to overwhelm you. It wasn't just about the loss, though that certainly stung ─ it was the culmination of months of frustration, of feeling like you were fighting an uphill battle with no end in sight.

You had come to the U of A with high hopes and big dreams, but somewhere along the way, it had all started to unravel. Your coach, once a source of inspiration, now felt like an obstacle standing in the way of your growth. And the teammates, once friends and supposed allies, now seemed more like strangers, each focused solely on their own ambitions.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was heavy. Players sat in silence, their faces reflecting a mixture of disappointment and frustration. Coach Johnson's voice cut through the silence, his words measured and deliberate as he addressed the team.

"Look, we gave it our all out there," he began, his tone firm. "But sometimes, the game just doesn't go our way. That's fine, there's always next year and we'll come back strong. Practice is still on for tomorrow morning, 5am to 9am"

Coach Johnson's announcement of another early morning practice felt like a punch to the gut. It was a reminder of everything that had gone wrong, of the sacrifices you had made in pursuit of a dream that no longer felt like your own.

As your teammates exchanged weary glances, you felt a surge of frustration rising within you. Was this all there was to it? Endless hours of practice, sacrifices made in pursuit of a goal that felt increasingly out of reach?

As the team dispersed, heading back to their dorms and apartments, you lingered in the locker room, the weight of the decision you had been wrestling with growing heavier with each passing moment. It wasn't just about one tough loss or a grueling practice schedule ─ it was about reclaiming your sense of purpose, your love for the game that had once been your escape.

"Fuck," you grumbled as you felt the tears fall. You sniffled as you got up from the bench, reaching for your backpack as you began walking out of the locker-room.

You heard the court doors open and some laughter, you held your breath as you ignored the annoyance that filled your stomach. You focused on your feet as you walked, not really watching where you were heading until─you collided with someone, jolting you out of your reverie.

"Oh shit, my bad," the blonde's voice echoed as she glanced at her teammates, giving you a thin lipped smile as she recognized you from the game. She was wearing a UConn jersey as she steadied you with a hand on your shoulder. "Sorry,"

You nodded quickly, wiping your eyes and trying to compose yourself. "You're good," you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

The blonde hesitated for a moment before offering a genuine smile. "Hey, you're a good player. We were all impressed out there. Keep your head up."

You managed a small smile in return. "Thanks."

As she rejoined her teammates and they disappeared down the hallway, you felt a strange mixture of emotions ─ regret for the loss, but also a flicker of hope from her unexpected kindness.

──

"What are you suggesting?" You asked as you met Coach Lindsay's gaze, your expression confused as she sighed ─ you knew what she was suggesting. "A transfer?"

Lindsay nodded, her expression somber. "I hate to say it, Y/N, but I think it might be the best option for you," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "It's clear that things haven't been working out here at Arizona. The coach, the team dynamic and now the whole Alyssa thing... it's all been weighing you down."

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. The idea of transferring had been lingering in the back of your mind for weeks now, but hearing it spoken aloud made it feel all too real.

"I just don't know if I can do it," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've put so much into this program. Leaving feels like admitting defeat."

Lindsay reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, her touch reassuring. "It's not about admitting defeat, Y/N. It's about taking control of your own happiness. You deserve to be somewhere where you can thrive, where you can be supported and valued for who you are."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. For too long, you had allowed yourself to be consumed by the expectations of others, sacrificing your own well-being in pursuit of a dream that no longer felt attainable.

Lindsay hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I'm not supposed to say anything but I've heard talk about UConn being interested in you. They've got a great program, and Coach Geno is one of the best. All you have to do is agree and just trust in the process, babe."

"UConn?" you repeated, the word feeling foreign yet oddly enticing on your tongue.

Lindsay nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah. I mean, nothing's set in stone, but it could be worth exploring. Just think about it, Y/N. You will get drafted to the WNBA if you are at a powerhouse like UConn, especially with your talent."

You couldn't believe it ─ your own assistant coach was telling you to transfer. Was your situation at Arizona truly as bad as Lindsay seemed to suggest? You glanced around the locker room, the familiar sights and sounds suddenly feeling suffocating. Had it really come to this? Were things truly as toxic as they seemed, or were you just overreacting?

As you thought about her words, memories of the past few months flooded your mind ─ the grueling practices, the weird relationships (if you could even call them that) with teammates, the constant pressure to perform. Each moment felt like a weight dragging you down, sapping away your passion and drive.

And yet, amidst the uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope. The possibility of a fresh start at UConn, of rediscovering your love for the game and reaching your full potential felt right.

Lindsay's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. "I know it's a lot to take in, Y/N. But sometimes, the hardest decisions lead to the greatest rewards. Just trust in yourself and follow your heart."

"Maybe you're right," you admitted, the words feeling like a weight lifted from your shoulders. "Maybe it's time for a change."

Lindsay smiled, her eyes shining with pride. "I'm proud of you, Y/N. It takes courage to admit when something isn't working and to take steps to change it. Whatever you decide, just know that I'll be here to support you every step of the way."

🚨 ESPN | BREAKING: Top Prospect Y/N L/N Commits to UConn Transfer 🚨 Y/N L/N, widely regarded as one of the most promising players in the 2021 recruiting class, joins UConn with high expectations. With UConn's storied basketball program and renowned head coach Geno Auriemma at the helm, Y/N's transfer promises to shake up the landscape of women's college basketball.

You glanced down at the notification on your phone, a nervous knot forming in the pit of your stomach. The news of your transfer had spread like wildfire, and now, seeing it plastered across the screen of your phone, it felt all too real.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself of the reasons behind your decision to transfer. The toxic atmosphere at Arizona, the strained relationships with teammates, the relentless pressure from coaches ─ it had all taken its toll, slowly suffocating your love for the game.

But now, with the opportunity to join UConn, you felt a flicker of hope reignite within you. Here was a chance for a fresh start, a chance to rediscover your passion for basketball and thrive in an environment where your talents would be appreciated and nurtured.

──

"Okay, listen up!" Coach Geno's voice echoed throughout the room, earning the attention of the girls on the team. You stood by the shorter man and somehow, you still felt small underneath his towering presence.

"As you all know," Coach Geno continued, his eyes scanning the faces of each player, "we've got a new addition to the team. Y/N, I want you to know that you're not just joining a team here at UConn ─ you're joining a family. We look out for each other, we support each other, and we push each other to be the best we can be."

"You guys all already know who she is, I know you did your research." His lips quirked up into a small smile as the girls exchanged amused glances within the team. A ripple of laughter spread through the room at his remark, breaking the tension and easing the nerves that had been swirling in your stomach.

"As for you, Y/N," Coach Geno continued, turning his attention back to you, "I want you to know that we're thrilled to have you here. Your talent speaks for itself, but what's even more important is your commitment to the team and your willingness to work hard."

As Coach Geno's words sank in, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. Being welcomed into the UConn family by none other than Coach Geno himself was an honor beyond words.

With Coach Geno's words echoing in your mind, you joined your teammates in a huddle, ready to embark on this new chapter of your life. And as the team broke apart with a chant, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation for the season ahead.

──

"And uh, don't eat Azzi's protein bars. She gets angry when she doesn't get her gainz," Paige remarked as Azzi sent her a glare. Everyone at the table giggled at that as you nodded, glancing toward Azzi.

Azzi sighed. "I think that's like common courtesy, P. Y/N knows better than that,"

"Of course, Azzi. I'll make sure to steer clear of your protein bars," you replied with a playful grin, earning a relieved smile from Azzi in return.

"What else..." Paige hummed as she ate chewed on her food, glancing around the table.

"Oh wait, I got one. If Coach tells you to run suicides, just do them without complaining," Aaliyah chimed in, her tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness.

"And make sure you hydrate," Nika added with a smirk, raising her water bottle in emphasis. "Especially during those conditioning drills Coach loves to throw at us."

As laughter erupted around the table, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie and belonging among your new teammates. "Of course, of course."

"And don't come to practice hungover, Coach will notice and he'll force everyone to run laps," Paige added as she shivered, earning a laugh from Aubrey. "Better for everyone if you just skip,"

"I think you need that advice more than anyone, Paige," Aubrey added as she nudged Paige playfully, eliciting more laughter from the group.

Paige mock-glared at Aubrey before joining in the laughter herself. "Hey, I've learned my lesson the hard way. Trust me, nobody wants to run laps hungover. I'm tryna make sure she doesn't get too carried away, she's from U of A, that's like party central."

You shrugged, a smile playing on your lips. "She's not wrong, if there's one thing I'll miss it'll be the insane parties at Kappa Sigma."

"Ooh, so you're a frat girly?" Aaliyah teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as she leaned in with interest.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not exactly. Frat boys aren't really my thing," you smiled as you looked down at your plate. "Neither are guys, really."

Paige hummed in response as she smirked, raising her cup in a mock toast as Aaliyah's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but her expression quickly softened into understanding. "Ah, got it. Well, good thing UConn has plenty of other things to offer besides frat parties."

"Yeah, like winning championships," Nika chimed in with a grin, nudging you playfully. "And having the best teammates in the world," she continued, earning a chorus of laughs and "awws".

"Look at Nika getting all sappy," Paige mocked as Nika sent her a glare, earning another round of laughter from the table.

Nika rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Okay, shut up Paige,"

"No, you first."

"I asked first, Paige."

"I don't care, shut up."

"No, you-"

"Okay, that's enough." Azzi sent you a thin-lipped smile as you laughed, enjoying the playful banter between Paige and Nika.

You felt yourself settle into the team more and more with each passing moment, the laughter and camaraderie of your teammates easing any lingering nerves or doubts. As you listened to their stories and shared your own, you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over you.

These were your teammates, your friends, your family away from home. And as you laughed and joked with them, you knew that you had found a place where you truly belonged.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[racefortheironthrone]

TLT World Building: The Nine Houses and the Logistics of Space Empires

Building off my earlier post about stele-and-obelisk travel and the River, I wanted to talk about something that's been rattling around my mind for a while, which is subluminary travel and the logistics of the Nine Houses. One of the things that has been brought up as a criticism of Muir's world-building as far back as Gideon the Ninth is that the Empire seems to have very, very fast non-FTL travel, such that Gideon and Harrow travel the 3.3 billion miles from Pluto to Earth in an hour, without using a stele. How, it was asked, does an Empire whose military relies on swords and whose medical knowledge is incredibly uneven at best, accomplish a technological feat of that magnitude?

I think we got an answer for that in Nona the Ninth:

“That ship’s not big enough for a stele. Don’t know if it’s big enough for subluminary travel, even. How did it get here?” Crown leant back in her chair, staring at the projector screen, head balanced in the crook of one golden arm. Nona noticed that her biceps showed even through her shirt, and that there were rubber bandages wrapped around one palm. She said, “Oh, that’s big enough for subluminary travel, Millie. See the double struts, and the massive exhaust? That’s a Ziz-class.” ...Crown continued, “The Ziz isn’t Cohort standard. And it’s not as big on the inside as you think. Look at the windows—see how there’re none on the back end? It’s mostly engine. Not plated either. It’ll get to sublume without many problems … but it definitely doesn’t have room for a stele. Camilla is right. It can’t travel by obelisk anchor.” Pyrrha said suddenly, “Crown. How’s the fuel consumption on a Ziz-class ship?” “Thirsty,” said Crown, brightening up at being asked. “Its cell would be totally drained after a day in subluminary. It only takes the powerful stuff too—thalergy-enriched, not just hydrogen blend. Hydrogen blend stuffs up the engine.”

The answer is necromancy. (Because of course it is.) The Empire infuses shuttle fuel with thalergy - and we know that the necromantic specialty of the Second House is to "drain thalergy from any living source and use it," so the Empire can treat thalergy as a fungible resource that they can extract, store, and then use somewhere else. Moreover, we know that the necromantic specialty of the Fourth House is "exciting thanergy into a state of fission" in order to produce explosions.

Since necromancy can easily convert thalergy into thanergy, I think that the Empire's higher-end shuttles are powered by necromantic pulse propulsion, such that shuttle fuel is burned to produce thrust, but then at the same time the thanergy is turned into a massive fission explosion behind the shuttle, producing even more thrust.

I think this also explains why the Second and Fourth are so disproportionately represented in the Cohort, because in addition to producing soldiers for the front lines, they're heavily involved with making the Cohort Fleets move. (I'm going to further speculate that the Fourth make up a lot of the Fleets' pilots, since that would fit their necromantic specialties, the nature of their planet, and their image as gung-ho "go fast" types.) This leads me to a few conclusions:

it explains why the Empire is so focused on short-term extraction; it's essentially stripping the thalergy for fuel to power subluminary transportation in the Dominicus system and beyond, in the same way that we're burning fossil fuels to power our economies today. There is a profound irony in that Mr. Environmentalist John Gaius has so precisely recreated the dynamics of the carbon economy through necromancy.

it explains how logistics in the Nine Houses work. If you can use necromantic fission drives to get from the outer edge of the Dominicus system to the core that quickly, than most of the logistical complexities of running a multiplanetary economy fall away. All you have to do is get your transport shuttle full of goods from the colonies to a stele at the edge of the Dominicus system, and then necromantic fission solves the "last mile problem" of getting your Necro-Amazon "just-in-time" deliveries to the hungry markets of the Third or the Fifth. You don't need to worry about the fact that you can't produce a lot of organic resources on thanergetic planets (especially ones that are space stations and the like rather than fully terraformed), because you just have everything delivered.

it similarly explains how logistics out in the colonies work. Even if you're at the edge of the stele network, necromantic fission shuttles can transport goods between planets in the same solar system with relative ease. It only becomes an issue when you're a ways out from the edge of the network, because that involves burning more thalergy-enriched fuel. Hence why Corona talks about "the Cohort movements didn’t make sense to her...shepherd planets got more costly the further the Houses extended themselves."

This makes me think of necromancy in a different way than I had before. Rather than just being about magic and warfare, necromancy is essentially the technology of the Nine Houses (aside from some legacy technologies that they have left over from pre-Resurrection), the tool that they use to solve all of their problems and make their society and economy and government function.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Any thoughts on the mystery behind the Veil of Death and the three brothers?

ana-lyz: So... What does it mean to be the Master of Death in HP universe? And like what does being MOD mean specifically for Harry?

Okay, funny thing is I got the first of your asks like an hour after I added to my drafts a post titled "Master of Death", so I was just thinking about it. And then I started answering it and you sent the second ask, so, great minds think alike, I guess.

Long post ahead:

The Veil, Death, and its Master

I'm going to cover what we know from the books, my opinions on it, and some of my evidence-based headcanons, since there is a lot of speculation on my part.

The Afterlife and the Veil

So, I wanna talk a bit about death, as it appears in the Harry Potter books. We know an afterlife exists in the HP world both when Harry dies and when he speaks to Nearly Headless Nick after Sirius dies.

I want to start with the scene in Deathly Hallows in the King's Cross limbo. Specifically these few sections:

Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and put them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them. . . . He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement?

(DH, 596)

“Where are we, exactly?” “Well, I was going to ask you that,” said Dumbledore, looking around. “Where would you say that we are?” Until Dumbledore had asked, Harry had not known. Now, however, he found that he had an answer ready to give. “It looks,” he said slowly, “like King’s Cross station. Except a lot cleaner and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see.” “King’s Cross station!” Dumbledore was chuckling immoderately. “Good gracious, really?” “Well, where do you think we are?” asked Harry, a little defensively. “My dear boy, I have no idea. This is, as they say, your party.”

(DH, 601)

“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?” Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright white mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?

(DH, 610)

I don't think this place Harry was in is the Afterlife, or even connected to the Afterlife. I think it is in Harry's head. Harry having complete control over it, actually calling it out as behaving like the Room of Requirement, Dumbledore not knowing where they are until Harry knows where they are, etc. All this doesn't fit with it being a limbo on the way to death and the figure there being the real Dumbledore. Dumbledore, throughout this scene, acts kind of strange, way more helpful and finally says all the right things Harry wants to hear.

Not-Dumbledore himself tells Harry he already knows everything he explains to him:

“Explain,” said Harry. “But you already know,” said Dumbledore. He twiddled his thumbs together

(DH, 597)

So, I truly believe it isn't really happening. That this isn't death and it isn't Dumbledore. throughout the scene, Dumbledore doesn't actually give Harry new information Harry couldn't guess on his own. He's just going over things Harry already knew and creating a nice narrative out of them. At some points, he asks Harry what he thinks, and only starts explaining once Harry knows the answer (or what he wants the answer to be). I think this is Harry's subconscious coping and not actual death.

Additionally, there's the disturbing baby Voldemort thing. Now, the real Voldemort is still alive, so contrary to what Not-Dumbledore says, it isn't actually Tom Riddle:

“Oh yes!” said Dumbledore. “Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Harry.” “But then . . . ” Harry glanced over his shoulder to where the small, maimed creature trembled under the chair. “What is that, Professor?” “Something that is beyond either of our help,” said Dumbledore

(DH, 598)

What I believe it is, is the soul in the Horcrux in Harry. Separated from Harry's own soul within his mind. That's the only thing it can be, in my opinion. I don't believe the soul shards in the Horcruxes could pass into an afterlife, or even to limbo. They were created to be bound to life and passing away is against their very nature (unless, maybe, if you throw them through the veil).

Besides all these oddities in the scene, it just doesn't make sense for Dumbledore to be there. Nearly Headless Nick gives some insight about death and the Afterlife:

“He will not come back,” repeated Nick quietly. “He will have . . . gone on.” “What d’you mean, ‘gone on’?” said Harry quickly. “Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn’t everyone come back? Why isn’t this place full of ghosts? Why — ?” “I cannot answer,” said Nick. “You’re dead, aren’t you?” said Harry exasperatedly. “Who can answer better than you?” “I was afraid of death,” said Nick. “I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn’t to have . . . Well, that is neither here nor there. . . . In fact, I am neither here nor there. . . .” He gave a small sad chuckle. “I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries —”

(OotP, 861)

From the way Nick speaks, ghosts are caught between life and death, part of them remains among the living while the rest moves on. Ghosts live in limbo, unable to be alive or dead. From his words, it also implies the properly dead, those who chose to move on, stay dead. They stay gone.

If that's the case, how could Dumbledore come to greet Harry in limbo? He's dead, truly gone, and death has no exceptions. There is no reason Dumbledore could speak to Harry in limbo and his parents won't. Once you're dead, you reach the afterlife and there you stay.

So I don't think the white King's Cross in Harry's death vision was connected to the afterlife, nor was it the real Dumbledore there. So, what is the actual afterlife?

Well, we don't really know. But, I can cover what we do know about the nature of death in the HP universe.

From Nick's words, the afterlife is the better option, than becoming a ghost. Nick describes ghosts as imprints left behind, but imprints of what specifically?

I talked about this already when I discussed how to make Horcruxes, but in alchemy, everything is comprised of three things:

Sulfur - soul

Mercury - spirit (that binds the body and the soul)

Salt - body

A ghost doesn't have a body, and we know all that moves on to the afterlife is one's soul. Therefore, it stands to reason ghosts are an imprint of a soul, while the spirit leaves at the moment of death. That's what an Avada Kedavra does, it removes the spirit, the connection between the body and the soul. That's how it kills instantly and without a trace.

So, when someone passes into the afterlife, it's their soul that passes away.

What about the echoes of Harry's parents and Cedric in Voldemort's wand during the duel in the graveyard?

Well, they're dead, they moved on, so it can't be their soul. The figures aren't even described the same way as ghosts or diary Tom, figures we know are made of souls:

and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort’s wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke. . . . It was a head . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory. the dense shadow of a second head, If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort’s wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

(GoF, 665-666)

Their bodies are buried, and Cedric's is just lying there, neither are they physical enough to be bodies. I believe this is their spirit. Remember what I said about the Killing Curse just now, it severs the tie, and as such, it keeps the spirit. So, Harry is speaking to his parents' spirit, the echoes of their lives, not souls.

Now, let's talk about the veil. The veil is one of the most fascinating things introduced in the books, and the way it is introduced is fascinating on its own, but that's for later. The veil is a physical archway into the world of the dead.

The concept of such an entrance exists in multiple mythologies. In Greek mythology, many heroes (Odysseus, Orpheus, Heracles, Theseus, etc.) all travel through the underworld in one way or another, this is why the hero's journey goes through the underworld, it's very common. In Mesopotamian mythology, Gilgamesh and Ishtar both travel to the underworld. The point is, a gateway into the afterlife you can travel through, is a concept humanity has been toying with for millennia.

What's interesting is that, like Thestrals, those who've seen death (Harry, Luna, and Neville) can hear whispers from it. They experience it differently from others who haven't witnessed death (Ron, Hermione, and Ginny) who feel unnerved by it (although, Neville and Luna react differently from Harry, but more on that later). Not much more can be said about it, except that unlike all these gates into the underworld from myths, the veil is meant to be a one-way ticket.

In general, the afterlife in the Wizarding World is a one-way passage. Once you're gone, you're gone. Hence the closest thing to proper necromancy they have is creating inferi, which are soulless since the soul can't be pulled back from the afterlife.

The veil was also there before the Ministry of Magic, which was built around it. My guess is that some ancient wizards made it, and how or why were forgotten over time.

As the Peverell brothers were born around the 1210s and the Ministry of Magic was founded in 1707, it's possible, that the same Peverells from the story have built the veil. I actually think it's quite likely.

Death Himself

The idea of death personified is just as old and prevalent in many myths and cultures as a gateway leading into the afterlife. Whether Death, as a being, exists in the Wizarding World, I'm uncertain, but I don't think it's likely.

God-like spirits like Death feel out of place in the world in a way. Like, having a pantheon of gods feels wrong for the world of Harry Potter. It feels out of place with the established lore and magic. We don't see any evidence of wizarding society having any kind of unique religion in which such beings exist. Death, in the tale, is also described as similar to a dementor, making the idea that the author based Death's appearance on that of a dementor plausible.

That being said, Death's similarity to dementors could be the other way around. As in, the dementors look like death because of their connection to him. And, Death from the Tale doesn't really act like a god. How he behaves and is spoken of in the Tale of the Three Brothers reminds me a lot of a fae-like creature. Like, a powerful being who's a trickster that twists your wishes into something that he can use against you.

However I look at it, I still don't feel a being like this would fit in the world of Harry Potter, it feels wrong to add gods (or fae) in there. We don't see any hint that such beings might exist, which makes me feel they don't. So, I don't really think a personification of Death as appearing in the tale actually exists, but they do have an afterlife, as established above.

The Peverells and the Hallows

So we all know the legend about the three Peverell brothers who cheated death and received his gifts. Dumbledore (the one Harry imagines in his death fever dream) is certain it went down a little differently. That the tale is to explain incredibly powerful magical artifacts made by extraordinary wizards:

“Oh yes, I think so. Whether they met Death on a lonely road . . . I think it more likely that the Peverell brothers were simply gifted, dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects. The story of them being Death’s own Hallows seems to me the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations.

(DH, 602)

While it's not really Dumbledore and more Harry's own mind, I agree with him the Peverell brothers were probably no run-of-the-mill wizards, and I agree it's unlikely they've met Death, as I don't believe he exists.

Now, all the Hallows have a sentience to them beyond just any magical artifact. Even the wand is more sentient than any other wand, which are already quite sentient ("the wand chooses the wizard").

The wand of the first brother is a Hallow I already wrote about how it chooses its master. It is a wand intrinsically connected with death, having a core of Thestral hair. (I wonder if a core from a Thestral would agree to work for a wizard who hasn't seen death, but I digress)

This wand is actually the least impressive Hallow, in my opinion. Even though it said to be unbeatable:

Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor

(DH, 352)

Its user is beaten quite often, that's how the wand changes owners, after all. This wand's tendency for even more sentience than other wands is what is particularly unique about it. How it chooses its master repeatedly, and sometimes even decides it prefers another over its current master, something unheard of for any other wand.

The Resurrection Stone has the supposed ability to pull a soul imprint from the afterlife:

“Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered.

(DH, 352)

Something that I just discussed above should be impossible. Once dead and in the afterlife, nothing comes back out. Harry uses it as well for the same purpose and describes them as being similar to Tom from the diary:

They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward him, and on each face, there was the same loving smile.

(DH, 589)

Because that's what the stone brings back, echoes of souls, but they aren't what Tom Riddle was in CoS.

“We are part of you,” said Sirius. “Invisible to anyone else.”

(DH, 590)

This line, made me believe the resurrection stone does something different than its name suggests and more similar to the lie Tom in the diary told Harry. They aren't souls, they're memories, echoes from within Harry himself. "Memory made solid"

Magic, in the world of Harry Potter, can't bring back someone who has moved on to the afterlife. It's a one-way ticket, as I've established before, once your soul moves on, that's it (if you try to resurrect someone immediately after they died and their soul hasn't yet moved on it's a different story). So I think, these shades are based on Harry's memories, and not actual souls brought back. It'll make more sense magically since his thoughts and memories are there, but the souls have gone on.

It also makes the tale of the second brother make more sense. He suffered because it wasn't really his wife that came back, but a shade based on his own memory. The tale said that she suffered, but I think it was Cadmus who suffered, not truly having her back. However, depending on how she died, her suffering might've been his memories of her that the stone resurrected, or the tale made it all up just like it made up Death.

The stone is just as picky about its master as the wand. It does not seem to have worked for anyone other than Cadmus Peverell and Harry himself. We don't hear of any Gaunts who used the stone, nor do we hear from Dumbledore he succeded in using it (I don't think it's actually Dumbledore in the conversation in King's Cross as I mentioned above). Regardless, I think the real Dumbledore probably did try to use it, and I will hazard a guess he failed. Since the stone didn't choose him.

The Cloak is unique in many ways. Lasting centuries, way longer than any invisibility cloak can, passing from parent to child for generations. It also does a better job of concealing you than another invisibility cloak, if, it still has its limits:

“...We are talking about a cloak that really and truly renders the wearer completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells are cast at it. How many cloaks have you ever seen like that, Miss Granger?”

(DH, 354)

The cloak is similar to the other Hallows in how picky it is regarding its master. The cloak wouldn't belong to anyone who just possesses it, it's not enough. It has to be passed willingly on the owner's deathbed, as they greet death as an old friend. It means that in the books, no one but Harry could be its owner.

All artifacts are powerful, but they aren't capable of anything that breaks the laws of nature (as the stone doesn't really resurrect), they are also sentient and picky, but it isn't something beyond the capacity of wizards. Why, we know of four wizards who made three sentient magical artifacts already — The Hogwarts founders.

The four founders enchanted the sorting hat together, but more relevant to the discussion of the Hallows are the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance.

At the precise moment that a child first exhibits signs of magic, the Quill, which is believed to have been taken from an Augurey, floats up out of its inkpot and attempts to inscribe the name of that child upon the pages of the Book (Augurey feathers are known to repel ink and the inkpot is empty; nobody has ever managed to analyse precisely what the silvery fluid flowing from the enchanted Quill is). Those few who have observed the process (several headmasters and headmistresses have enjoyed spending quiet hours in the Book and Quill’s tower, hoping to catch them in action) agree that the Quill might be judged more lenient than the Book. A mere whiff of magic suffices for the Quill. The Book, however, will often snap shut, refusing to be written upon until it receives sufficiently dramatic evidence of magical ability.

(from pottermore)

The idea of multiple sentient, powerful magical artifacts that need to agree is something wizards are capable of. And that, I think, is the secret to becoming the Master of Death — having all 3 Hallows pick you. Just like the book and quill need to agree a student should be admitted to Hogwarts.

Master of Death

Or more specifically what does that actually mean and why I think even if someone retrieved all 3 Hallows they wouldn't have become the Master of Death if their name isn't Harry James Potter.

This is definitely more in the headcanon territory, but the first scene that really made me think about it is the one in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. Because I think Harry and death always had a weird connection, it might've been around before the failed killing curse, and it was definitely around before Harry mastered all 3 Hallows.

So, why do I think Harry was always bound to be the Master of Death, and even if Dumbledore or Voldemort had all the Hallows it wouldn't have helped them?

There, are a few things that led me to this conclusion.

First, as I mentioned above, the cloak can not belong to anyone other than Harry in the books. It means that no one but Harry could master all of the Deathly Hallows, regardless of what they did.

Second, This first scene in the Death Chamber with the veil. I'll copy parts of it below and ask you to note, as you read, that Harry, Neville, and Luna are the only three who can see Thestrals and therefore should react more to the veil:

“Who’s there?” said Harry, jumping down onto the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway. “Careful!” whispered Hermione. ... He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. ... “Let’s go,” called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. “This isn’t right, Harry, come on, let’s go. . . .” She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam, yet Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it. “Harry, let’s go, okay?” said Hermione more forcefully. “Okay,” he said, but he did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil. “What are you saying?” he said very loudly, so that the words echoed all around the surrounding stone benches. “Nobody’s talking, Harry!” said Hermione, now moving over to him. “Someone’s whispering behind there,” he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. “Is that you, Ron?” “I’m here, mate,” said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway. “Can’t anyone else hear it?” Harry demanded, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais. “I can hear them too,” breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. “There are people in there!” .... “Sirius,” Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerized, at the continuously swaying veil. “Yeah . . .” ... On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too.

(OotP, 773-775)

The interesting to note:

Luna, who can see Thestrals, also hears the whispering. I assume Neville does too.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are mesmerized but unnerved by the veil. Ron and Hermione seem to fight this memorization in their fear for Harry as he nears the veil.

Harry is the only one who is drawn to the veil He is the only one that moved, the only one whose feet take him against his will to the dias with the veil.

Harry thinks of it as oddly beautiful.

He has an urge to pass through that no one else does. All of them are frozen in place.

Harry is so affected he needs to be reminded twice that he's there to save Sirius before he can draw himself away from the veil.

Third, later in the book, after Sirius fell through the veil, there's this part:

He had reached the floor, his breath coming in searing gasps. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out again. . . . But as he reached the ground and sprinted toward the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back. “There’s nothing you can do, Harry —” “Get him, save him, he’s only just gone through!” “It’s too late, Harry —” “We can still reach him —” Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go. . . . “There’s nothing you can do, Harry . . . nothing. . . . He’s gone.”

(OotP, 806)

Harry's instinct to go through the veil to get Sirius out is so odd. The way he thinks that he himself can pull him out, not anyone else, but he... I don't know, but, this scene is interesting. It almost makes me feel Harry could pull Sirius back out. He defied death already once and will defy it again in the 7th book, so why not? Why wouldn't he be able to pull someone back from beyond the veil if they fell through just now (the timing is relevant, I don't think Hary could pull, say, his parents out).

My headcanon is that in that very moment if Lupin let Harry pull Sirius out, it would've worked. Caused a pandemonium about the fact Harry can apparently resurrect the dead (even if it's not really what he did), but that it would've worked. (I actually really want to write a fic like this)

Fourth, throughout the 7th book, once Harry finds out about the Hallows, he can't let the thought go. He knows his cloak is one, he is convinced the stone is in the snitch Dumbledore left him, way before he opened it. He just has a sense about it, and a fixation on it that's almost instinct:

Dumbledore had left the sign of the Hallows for Hermione to decipher, and he had also, Harry remained convinced of it, left the Resurrection Stone hidden in the golden Snitch. Neither can live while the other survives. . . master of Death. . . Why didn’t Ron and Hermione understand? “‘The last enemy shall be destroyed is death,”’ Harry quoted calmly

(DH, 374-375)

So, these are my reasons why I believe Harry is the only character in the books that could or would be the MOD. It's just that he always was, in a way. The Hallows already chose him before he ever held any of them.

But what does it mean to be the Master of Death?

“Well, of course not,” said Xenophilius, maddeningly smug. “That is a children’s tale, told to amuse rather than to instruct. Those of us who understand these matters, however, recognize that the ancient story refers to three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death.” ... “When you say ‘master of Death’—” said Ron. “Master,” said Xenophilius, waving an airy hand. “Conqueror. Vanquisher. Whichever term you prefer.”

(DH, 353)

We don't really get much besides this. Along with what's written on James and Lily's grave:

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

(DH, 283)

Harry believes all phrases, along with the prophecy are connected and lead him to believe he should become the Master of Death:

Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death. . . Master. . . Conqueror. . . Vanquisher. . . The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. . . . And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match. . . Neither can live while the other survives. . . Was this the answer?

(DH, 369-370)

So what can the Master of Death do? Death isn't a personified deity, what is defeating or contouring death mean? Does it mean immortality?

I don't know if I'll say full immortality, I think the Master of Death can die the same way Ignotus Peverell did. I think Ignotus Peverell was the first Master of Death, in a way, he at least represented the concept:

And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life

(DH, 352)

He was death's equal, he could escape it and live a fulfilling life, before choosing to meet Death on his own terms. I think that's what it means, that Death won't find Harry until he is ready to move on, and when he finally chooses to move on, Death would greet him with open arms.

The crux of it is the choice. That death can't touch you until you choose to allow it. And those who become Masters of Death, would always eventually choose to greet death, as these are the type of people the 3 Hallows would choose. It's all about choices.

(For the record, yes, I think there could be more than one MOD, I think Ignotus was until his death, and then in the books, Harry is)

And considering how much emphasis is put on choices and intentions in the magic of this world, it seems only right to be so relevant here too.

Like with the Mirror or Erised, which only let someone who wanted to have the Philosopher's Stone but not use it, have it; the Hallows won't choose a master who wouldn't, eventually, be willing to accept death. Because mastering death, isn't only not dying, it's understanding it, and accepting it. Both the deaths of others and eventually your own.

Also, as I mentioned above, I headcanon that Harry could pull Sirius out the moment he fell in through the veil. I don't think anyone but Harry could. I believe, as a Master of Death, Harry is the only wizard (well, being) that can go into the afterlife, walk past the veil, and come back out. A Master of Death is the only one who the afterlife isn't a one-way ticket for.

(Although, I think it's possible that if you wear the invisibility cloak you might be able to pass into the veil and come out even without being the MOD, but, I wouldn't bet on it)

Summary of my thoughts

The afterlife exists in the Wizarding World and nothing that passes beyond the veil can return. It's a one-way ticket.

The scene in Deathly Hallows with Dumbledore in King's Cross station limbo didn't actually happen.

Death, as a deity of sorts most likely doesn't exist.

The Peverell brothers were powerful wizards who made the Deathly Hallows and perhaps the veil too.

The Resurrection stone can't bring a soul back from beyond the veil so it does the next best thing — reviving an illusion of a memory.

All 3 Deathly Hallows are very sentient magical artifacts like the sorting hat. Each of them is very picky when choosing its own master.

When all 3 Hallows choose the same master, this person is the Master of Death.

Being the Master of Death means the MOD won't die until the time of their choice. But the MOD will always choose to die eventually because that's the kind of person the Hallows would pick.

There can, over time, be more than one MOD (not at the same time though). And it's possible Ignotus Peverell was one, in a way.

The MOD might be the only person who can go into the veil and come back out.

The invisibility cloak might also allow you to make a trip into the veil and then back out.