#and i don't like to speculate on the love lives of public figures but

[queenofthearchipelago]

I'm genuinely shocked and a little disturbed that there's this subsection of the good omens fandom that has turned from just loving the show and shipping the characters to shipping Michael and David.

Like first of all, please don't ship real people.

Second, it goes even further than that with some people, somehow finding "evidence" to hate their partners and speculating about their sex lives.

It's just weird... I'm here for the good omens. I enjoy Michael and David as the actors and public figures they are, I enjoy the bits of their friendship that we get to see. But I'm not going to spend time speculating on whether or not they're divorcing their spouses, or how their sex lives are, or anything else going on behind the scenes.

A person being a public figure is not an invitation to speculate about them in invasive and quite frankly extremely rude ways. But that's just my take.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Wait what was that that Beforus Eridan being Kankri’s culler? What? How? Does that mean that candy red includes aquatic mutations?

Okay, so, this is PURE speculative headcanon and I debated over whether or not I should even say it, but it's pretty fucking hilarious so I figured I'd mention it with the heavy caveat that I made it all up & not to take it seriously, it's just a headcanon I believe because it's a really funny idea to me, and i do not at all consider this "canon" the way some of my other theories are. i hope you also find it funny

So the big difference between Feferi and Meenah's troll society is what "culling" entails; where on Alternia, culling means killing off the weak, orphaned, disabled, and/or lower classes, on Beforus, it means taking care of them. So the characters on Alternia that would've been slated for culling would, on Beforus, actually have lived very cushy lives where a highblood provides for them. It's still another way of enforcing the class divide, so it's still shitty, but I guess it's better than people being killed all the time.

Karkat is one of the most cullable trolls on Alternia for being a mutant not on the hemospectrum, and the only reason he has a symbol and lusus at all is because the Signless's followers prepared them for him. This is why Kankri doesn't seem to have a symbol or lusus, because a situation similar to the Signless never happened on Beforus, and instead, Kankri (and presumably Karkat as well) would've been culled, AKA taken care of by a highblood.

Another part of Kankri's characterization is that he fucking loves sea dwellers - he's actually pretty polite to Meenah, even trying to ingratiate himself to her via nautical references, and desperately, desperately wants to be pale with Cronus. This leads me to infer that Kankri was specifically culled by a sea dweller, and the law of conservation of detail (not a real thing, it's a trope name) leads me to further infer that Kankri was culled by one of our KNOWN sea dwellers, either Feferi or Eridan. And since Feferi was busy managing Meenah, it seems like the task would've fallen onto Eridan.

Now, I have a whole set of headcanons for what Beforus!Eridan was like, but as I tend not to speculate too much on AUs divested too far from canon, I'm only going to note the pertinent details:

Beforus!Eridan was very well-regarded by the population and had the same kind of standing as a major celebrity,

Many hundreds of sweeps ago, Karlkat Marx Karkat Vantas used to be Eridan's freeloader. Their relationship was extremely difficult to classify, and nobody really understood it (many assumed Eridan was culling him, but Eridan vehemently denied this, insisting Karkat just lived on his sofa rent-free and all expenses paid, like this was a normal thing for them to be doing),

Karkat was generally an absolute disaster in the romance department, having a long string of relationships up and down the hemocaste with his trademark Blurry Quadrant Bullshit, always sadly slinking back to Eridan's sofa at the end of his wild, vascillatory flings,

Karkat would write a massive scathing critique of Beforan society, its consumer capitalism, its casteism and classism, its power structure, etc. etc., which Eridan distributed posthumously, because unfortunately Karkat had the lifespan of a lime & passed away long before Eridan was even at the halfway point of his own lifespan,

Eridan was never the same, and while his public persona remained widely beloved, he became an interpersonal disaster in his private life, and Feferi handed him Kankri as a wiggler to cull in the hopes that it would get him out of his funk,

This Did Not Work At All and in fact fucked up a perfectly good wiggler

I mean, honestly, I don't think there exists such a thing as a "bad class," but I do think Princes should not be raising kids.

So Eridan, who, even in the best case scenario, has disastrous social skills and a fucked up sponge, had literally 0 idea what to do with this kid, and pretty much just threw money at it. It was pretty inevitable for Kankri to remind Eridan of Karkat, so most of what few conversations they'd actually have revolved around Karkat, especially Karkat's extremely fucked up romantic affairs, the recounting of which slowly shrivelled the Seer of Blood up like a raisin and made him decide that romance was really, truly not worth it.

At the same time, Kankri craved an emotional bond with his fucked-up adoptive dad, and the spark would sometimes come into Eridan's eyes whenever Kankri started talking about hemocaste equality. The guy who used to live on his couch would say things like that...

But this would also mean that Eridan was alive at the same time as his descendent, Cronus, so I'm pleased to inform you all that he managed to neglect TWO children, both his biokid and his adopted one. Hooray! As Eridan was universally beloved, Cronus always had a lot to live up to, and very little opportunity to be his own person, divorced of his status as a sea dweller or his ancestor's shadow. Hooray!

But the way it comes full circle is this: Canon!Eridan actually outright admits that his typing quirk is fake, calling it "weird" and dropping it when he's trying to be emotionally sincere. Thus, to me, it stands to reason that it's something he would stop using after he has his character development, and he stops caring about how a "sea dweller" is "supposed to" act. We see it happen with the other trolls, losing/changing their quirks to reflect big life events - Aradia dropping her 0s because she's not doomed anymore, Sollux losing his 2's when he loses his li2p. I've been struggling for a while with what Eridan would replace his quirk with after he drops his ww/vvs because it'd be kind of lame if he just had, like, basically nothing.

Also, I lowkey don't really vibe with Karkat ever using the sym69ls in text - he already resented his ancestor, and he'd especially hate the idea of using them after meeting Kankri. Hell, he's pretty reluctant to even type in his blood color even after everybody knows what it is. But then I realized - Eridan is already the guy on the team who dresses up in the colors of his dating partners. What if he replaced his ww/vv quirk with the sym69ls to show his support for Karkat?

Like yeah Karkat would hate it but it would also be literally so funny, and I think Karkat would be secretly comforted by the way Eridan would stubbornly insist that he's doing it FOR KARKAT, and not for the Signless or whatever, he's literally called Signless, that was like his whole thing idiot, this is Kar's symbol, shut the fuck up.

And also, genuinely, one of the things I'm most sad about missing out on was a conversation between Kankri and post-character-development!Eridan, because... can you fucking imagine? Here's Kankri, who actually loves sea dwellers and the caste system, who wants to be pale with Cronus so so so badly, yet is celibate by choice because he's a slut shamer (and in this headcanon, because he heard too many terrible stories about his ancestor's hellish dating life), who uses "social justice" as a cudgel and couches outright contempt for his friends in "polite" mealymouth language about equality...

... And then Eridan "these are my emotional support slurs" Ampora rocks up to the chat.

Even without the culler stuff, it'd be fucking hilarious, right? Eridan's insane and makes a lot of wild assumptions, but he's usually kind of right (he assumes Kanaya doesn't want to c3< him and Vriska because she's in <3 with Vriska, and he's at least right about the latter; he assumes Rose is highborn nobility, and, like, she IS a rich girl). Despite posturing about supporting the caste system, he doesn't actually give a shit about it, and arguing with him is basically a huge waste of time because he doesn't listen to people.

What I'm saying is, Kankri would be like "excellent, another sea dweller to befriend" + "finally, emotional validation from my distant father" & Eridan would immediately call Kankri a slur, ignore his arguments and rebut with something crazy like how "royal-v" is actually a more offensive term than "wader" because the former assumes sea dwellers have such delicate feelings that they can't stand not to have their globes kissed every five seconds, call Kankri a wader, ask Kankri why Kankri is hitting on him (Kankri isn't), proclaim that he and Karkat make out despite being moirails, and then start insisting that Kankri has to stop using his quirk because it's a quirk for Karkat and Karkat doesn't even like Kankri so Kankri doesn't get to use it anymore.

I think Kankri would start crying. Especially because a crowd has gathered and Kankri accidentally calls Eridan "dad" and Eridan is like i Don't know what that is.

Anyway the point that im making is the sym69ls were originally Beforus!Eridan's quirk because that was how he and Karkat used to curl up on the sofa together. 69. All cozy like. And that's where Kankri got them from and he decided to match his whistles to the motif. And after bullying Kankri into not using them anymore and taking them on himself, they go back to being Eridan's quirk. In a beautiful and stupid time loop of karma, the likes of which Homestuck is so fond of. Amen

[lillchris]

Paige and Azzi are very Rewrite the Stars Coded let me explain.

I feel like Pazzi is one of those situations where Paige fell first and Azzi eventually fell harder so I feel like the first verse is from Paige’s perspective.

You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide (hence Paige not being very secretive with the way she looks and acts around Azzi etc.)

I know you want me

So don't keep sayin' our hands are tied

You claim it's not in the cards

And fate is pullin' you miles away

And out of reach from me (I feel like it has to do with how they first lived far away when they met in U16. Azzi in Maryland and Paige at the time Minnesota)

But you're here in my heart

So who can stop me if I decide

That you're my destiny? (I think when Paige first saw Azzi it could have been love at first sight possibly for Paige)

What if we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart

You'd be the one I was meant to find

It's up to you, and it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be (Hence when the rumors and speculation first started and I don’t think at least now; Paige doesn’t care what people will say abt them)

So why don't we rewrite the stars?

Maybe the world could be ours

Tonight

The second verse is from Azzi’s perspective

You think it's easy

You think I don't wanna run to you

But there are mountains

And there are doors that we can't walk through

I know you're wondering why because we're able to be

Just you and me within these walls (Them together in private being themselves)

But when we go outside, you're gonna wake up and see (And then being out in public not being able to show)

That it was hopeless after all

No one can rewrite the stars

How can you say you'll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart (hence again them not being able to show PDA or act like a regular couple 🥺yet)

And I'm not the one you were meant to find

It's not up to you

It's not up to me

When everyone tells us what we can be (People assuming their just friends)

How can we rewrite the stars?

Say that the world can be ours

Tonight

I honestly think Azzi might have been scared to take the whole relationship leap with Paige in the beginning. for fear of backlash and what not. I also think Paige and Azzi had a time when they were trying to figure them as a relationship and themselves out like a “What are we?”. Now look at them they finally took that leap and it’s “Private but not a Secret”

That’s it thanks letting me rant 🫶🏽

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Auctions and Audacity | Sebastian Sallow x OC #57

upcoming chapters will be a bit long since I don't want to leave y'all on too much off a cliffhanger as things... get spicy

Summary: Having resolved to show her defiance in public, Evangeline attends an auction with Sebastian at her side. Their arrival causes a stir, and Evangeline is faced with a less than subtle threat. The group travels to Feldcroft, hoping to lay low where the whispers and drama can't find them. Evangeline receives a letter that shows just how far the Muldoons are willing to go.

Words: ~11,900

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Pureblood Politics, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Longing, Unspoken Feelings, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Idiots in Love

Timeline: Late August

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Evangeline stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers smoothing over the fabric of her gown. Deep purple, rich and luminous, it clung to her figure before cascading in soft folds to the floor. Gold accents traced the edges of the bodice, shimmering faintly as she moved, and the neckline, while modest by some standards, dipped just low enough to make a statement. Every detail had been deliberate. Every thread carefully chosen to command attention.

Her gaze flicked to Sebastian, leaning casually against the wall of her sitting room, his tie hanging loose around his neck as he fumbled with it. His brow furrowed in concentration, and the deep purple silk—chosen to perfectly match her gown—slipped through his fingers with a stubbornness that matched his own. Quiet grumbling filled the room.

“This blasted thing,” he muttered, tugging at the fabric with growing frustration. “I don’t know why it insists on humiliating me.”

Evangeline’s lips curved into a faint smile, a flicker of warmth unfurling in her chest despite the ache that had taken up residence there. He was here, dressed to complement her in a way that would make their entrance impossible to ignore. The Prophet would certainly seize the moment, the headline practically writing itself: Sterling and Sallow—A Pair Too Close to Deny.

Her gaze softened as her thoughts wandered to the night he’d shown up at her flat. His hair had been disheveled, his chest heaving as though he’d run the whole way, and his dark eyes had been alight with something too raw to ignore. His words had tumbled out in a frantic rush, each one steeped in desperation as he begged her not to accept Joseph Carling’s supposed proposal.

Her chest tightened. That night had shattered whatever pretense they’d been clinging to, and yet here they were, still caught in this maddening in-between. The rumor of her "engagement" had spread like wildfire the following morning, and Carling himself had been vocal—both publicly and privately—about the damage it had done to his reputation. In his eyes, the untrue rumor had sullied his chances with her, branding him as a man rejected before he could even properly court her.

But if the rumors had bruised Carling’s reputation, they’d left hers suspended in uncertainty, as though she were a pawn on a chessboard, every move threatening to tip her into checkmate.

In the weeks since, Sebastian had been a constant presence in her life—more so than ever. He sought her out at every opportunity, accompanied her to public outings, and lingered in her sitting room most evenings, tea in hand, as though their lives had settled into an easy, shared rhythm.

To any outsider, it would look like they were courting. The whispers had already begun to circle, a hum of speculation growing louder with each event they attended together. And tonight, with their perfectly coordinated attire and Sebastian standing steadfast at her side, it would feel like their official declaration. The culmination of weeks of unspoken truths and careful steps toward something real.

And yet, despite it all—despite the desperation in his voice the night he begged her not to marry Carling, despite the way his touch lingered on her arm in crowded rooms, and despite the quiet, stolen moments they now shared—Sebastian still hadn’t said it. He hadn’t named whatever it was that stood between them, hadn’t given her the clarity she longed for.

Her chest ached as she watched him fumble with the tie again, his brow furrowing deeper. He was her friend, her confidant, the man who had begged her not to marry another—and yet he still refused to claim her as his own.

Evangeline let out a slow breath, her fingers curling against the folds of her gown. It wasn’t just her heart at stake anymore—it was her future. The New Zealand expedition loomed ever closer, and every day that passed without clarity from Sebastian brought her closer to the inevitability of a decision she didn’t want to make. If he didn’t say something—anything—she’d have no choice but to make the decision alone. And she knew what that would mean.

“Evie,” Sebastian’s voice cut through her thoughts, drawing her gaze. He’d finally managed to secure the tie, though it was a touch crooked. He grinned, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. “How do I look?”

She stared at him for a moment, taking in the way the deep purple brought out the tan of his skin and the way his dark eyes held hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter. He was handsome—infuriatingly so—and he had no idea the power he held over her.

“Perfect,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

His grin widened as he crossed the room, closing the space between them with an ease that made her chest ache. “You ready?” he asked, his voice dropping to something quieter, something just for her.

Evangeline nodded, though her heart screamed at her to say more. To ask him the question that hovered between them like a phantom. What are we, Sebastian?

Instead, she slipped her arm through his, letting him lead her toward the door. The weight of the evening pressed heavily on her shoulders, but as they stepped into the cool night air together, she couldn’t help but hold onto the faint, foolish hope that tonight might finally bring the answer she so desperately needed.

The charity auction was a spectacle. An opportunity for society’s elite to flaunt their wealth and status under the guise of philanthropy. But for Evangeline and Sebastian, it was something more. It was defiance.

Both of them were tired of it—the carefully orchestrated distance Evangeline maintained at these infuriatingly pretentious events, and the soiree had been the breaking point.

Evangeline’s sharp words, spat at a suitor who had dared to insult Sebastian in front of her, had reverberated through the social circles like a lightning strike. Her defense of him had been blistering, unapologetic, and entirely unladylike. And it had made the rounds, of course, ensuring that her feelings about the Prophet’s vicious tirade against Sebastian’s character were public knowledge now. She didn’t care. Let them judge her. Let them talk.

Tonight, there would be no distance. No half-measures. If the only way to fight back was to show the world she wouldn’t be swayed, then so be it. She would walk into the charity auction with Sebastian Sallow at her side, their matching attire a silent declaration of solidarity—and perhaps, this step would be enough to draw a confession from Sebastian, to finally push him to name what lay between them.

The carriage came to a gentle stop, and Sebastian turned toward her. His gaze, warm and steady, met hers. “You ready for this?”

Evangeline’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her pulse quickened. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Sebastian stepped out first, turning to offer her his hand as she descended. The moment her heels touched the cobblestones, she straightened her shoulders, her fingers resting lightly on his arm. The grand ballroom loomed ahead of them, its glowing chandeliers visible through towering windows, casting an opulent light over the entrance.

They strode forward together, their coordinated attire drawing attention the moment they stepped through the doors. Heads turned, whispers rippling through the crowd like an electric current.

“Miss Sterling. And Mr. Sallow.”

“Together, no less. Look at them.”

“Do you think she’s finally chosen?”

Evangeline ignored the murmurs, though her grip on Sebastian’s arm tightened slightly. He noticed, of course, leaning down to murmur in her ear, his tone laced with dry amusement. “Making quite the impression, aren’t we?”

“I suppose that was the point,” she replied, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

As they moved deeper into the room, the grandeur of the event came into full view. Enchanted artifacts, rare tomes, and magical heirlooms were displayed on pedestals around the room, each one labeled with a placard detailing its history. The crowd was a mix of Ministry officials, prominent pureblood families, and wealthy patrons, their laughter and conversation blending with the soft strains of a string quartet.

Ominis and Anne were already waiting near the edge of the room, their expressions lighting up when they spotted the pair. Anne’s grin widened as she took in their coordinated attire, her eyes sparkling with approval.

“Well,” Anne teased as they approached, “you two look wonderful. You've certainly outdone yourselves.”

Sebastian smirked. “Why not give the Prophet something worth writing about?”

Ominis raised a brow, his tone dry as always. “A noble pursuit."

Evangeline chuckled softly, falling into step beside Sebastian as they approached the reception table. Silver trays held neatly folded programs, each embossed with shimmering gold filigree, while enchanted flutes of champagne floated effortlessly above the surface, their stems beckoning elegantly to the arriving guests.

Sebastian reached up without hesitation, snagging two flutes. He handed one to Evangeline, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his fingers brushed hers briefly. “For courage,” he quipped.

Evangeline accepted the glass as her gaze swept across the room. The opulence of the event was striking, even by society’s lofty standards: chandeliers glittered like clusters of stars overhead, their light casting a golden glow across the polished marble floors, while strings of enchanted fairy lights wove lazily between the floral arrangements adorning each table.

Beside her, Sebastian had plucked a program from the tray and was flipping through it with casual interest, his expression nonchalant.

“Find anything that suits your taste?” she asked, arching a brow as she took a sip.

Sebastian hummed thoughtfully. “A cursed dagger, a set of dragon-hide dueling gloves, and a portrait that keeps count of your sins. Charming selection.”

Evangeline chuckled softly, her earlier tension easing ever so slightly. “I was hoping for something a bit less… ominous.”

“Pity,” he said, his smirk widening as he handed the program back to her. “But I suppose there’s still time for something to catch your eye.”

They began to weave through the grand room, the soft hum of enchanted violins filling the space. The crowd parted for them as they moved, and Evangeline felt the weight of countless eyes on her, some admiring, others speculative, and a few openly disapproving.

Each artifact was presented on polished pedestals or encased in enchanted glass, their descriptions etched onto brass plaques that gleamed under the warm light of floating chandeliers. Sebastian’s commentary grew increasingly absurd as they walked, his ability to turn even the most impressive artifacts into a source of humor drawing soft laughter from Evangeline. For a brief moment, the tension in her chest lightened, the weight of the evening fading into the background.

But their reprieve was short-lived.

“Miss Sterling, Mr. Sallow,” a familiar voice called out, smooth and measured. They turned to see Lady Greengrass approaching, her expression warm yet unmistakably calculated. Her sapphire silk robes shimmered like water under the ballroom’s golden light, and she moved with the grace of someone accustomed to commanding attention.

Evangeline tightened her grip on Sebastian’s arm, her polite smile firmly in place. “Lady Greengrass,” she greeted, inclining her head. “What a pleasure to see you this evening.”

“Likewise,” Lady Greengrass replied, her gaze sweeping over them with practiced subtlety. “I must say, the two of you have certainly captured everyone’s attention tonight.”

Sebastian’s smirk didn’t falter, though Evangeline could feel the tension in his arm beneath her hand. “That wasn’t our intention,” he lied smoothly, his tone light but edged with a hint of defiance. “But I suppose it’s hard to avoid.”

Lady Greengrass chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with something that might have been amusement—or calculation. “Indeed. It’s refreshing to see someone so willing to… challenge expectations.”

“Challenge is a Sallow specialty,” Sebastian quipped, his grin widening.

Evangeline glanced up at him, her smile softening slightly as she interjected, “I imagine that’s why he excels—whether on the dueling platform or the Quidditch pitch.”

Lady Greengrass nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Your performance in both was certainly memorable, Mr. Sallow. Quite… spirited.”

Sebastian inclined his head slightly, clearly unfazed. “High praise, Lady Greengrass.”

Her gaze shifted back to Evangeline, her smile thinning. “And you, Miss Sterling, have been quite spirited yourself lately, if what I’ve heard is true. Your words to Mr. Balfour at the soirée have become quite the topic of discussion.”

Evangeline’s fingers tightened slightly on Sebastian’s arm, but her expression remained serene. “Mr. Balfour’s comments about Sebastian were unwarranted and unkind,” she said evenly. “I simply felt it was necessary to remind him that I value loyalty and integrity above empty titles.”

Lady Greengrass raised a brow, her smile sharpening. “Quite the bold stance. It’s not every day a young woman speaks so openly in defense of a gentleman.”

Sebastian glanced at Evangeline, his smirk fading into something softer, more genuine. “I’m lucky to have someone like her in my corner,” he said, his voice steady.

Lady Greengrass studied them for a moment, her gaze flicking between the two of them. “Indeed,” she said finally, though her tone carried a note of curiosity. “And yet, I must admit I’m surprised, Miss Sterling. After the rumor about your supposed engagement to Mr. Carling, I had assumed your intentions lay elsewhere.”

Evangeline’s smile didn’t waver, though she felt Sebastian’s arm stiffen beneath her hand. “That rumor was baseless,” she said smoothly. “I have never shared such intentions with Mr. Carling.”

“A shame,” Lady Greengrass mused. “Though I suppose that leaves room for other possibilities. My son, for instance, was disappointed not to make your acquaintance at the soirée. Given the circumstances, I imagine you were otherwise… preoccupied.”

The meaning behind her words was clear, and for a fleeting moment, the room seemed quieter, the weight of her implication pressing down on them.

Evangeline held her gaze, her smile polite but unyielding. “I’m sure your son is a remarkable young man, Lady Greengrass,” she said, her voice steady. “But as you’ve observed, my attention has been focused elsewhere.”

Lady Greengrass’s expression didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something—annoyance, perhaps—in her eyes. “Indeed,” she said after a moment. “Well, I shan’t keep you from your evening. Enjoy the auction.”

With that, she inclined her head and glided away, leaving Evangeline and Sebastian in her wake.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Sebastian let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Well, that was subtle.”

Evangeline sighed, releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I suppose it was inevitable,” she murmured. “Lady Greengrass never misses an opportunity to make her opinion known.”

Sebastian glanced down at her, his smirk softening into something warmer. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “you handled that brilliantly.”

Evangeline met his gaze, her chest tightening. “Thank you."

As the evening wore on, their presence together continued to draw attention. A handful of guests approached them with polite inquiries or veiled remarks about their appearance together. Some were genuinely curious, others calculated, and a few seemed to revel in the scandal of it all. Through it, Sebastian remained effortlessly composed, deflecting barbed comments with his usual charm, while Evangeline matched him with poise.

At last, they made their way toward Anne and Ominis, who had claimed a table near the main stage. Anne waved them over, her grin widening as they approached. “Finally. I was starting to think you’d been ambushed.”

“In a way,” Sebastian said dryly, taking the seat beside Ominis. “But Evie handled it beautifully.”

Anne arched a brow at her brother, her smirk playful. “Of course she did. She’s far better at this than you are.”

Evangeline smiled faintly, settling into her seat next to Anne. Her gaze drifted back toward the relics displayed around the room. One in particular had caught her attention earlier: a delicate silver hourglass set with tiny sapphire gemstones. According to its placard, it was enchanted to measure moments of great importance, freezing the sand when a pivotal decision was being made.

Sebastian followed her line of sight, his brows lifting slightly. “Something caught your eye, after all?”

She nodded, her voice soft. “The hourglass. It’s beautiful.”

Anne leaned forward, humming in agreement. “It is stunning,” she said, her gaze flicking toward the hourglass. “And would be perfectly suited for you, Evie. Understated but undeniably important.”

Evangeline’s cheeks warmed at the compliment, but before she could respond, the lights in the room dimmed slightly, signaling the start of the auction. A ripple of anticipation moved through the crowd as the auctioneer took his place on the stage, his wand amplifying his voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his tone smooth and polished, “thank you for joining us tonight for this most illustrious charity event. Your generosity this evening will go a long way toward supporting vital causes within our magical community.”

Applause erupted briefly, though most attendees seemed more focused on the catalog of items in their hands. The first few lots were announced—an ancient set of enchanted quills, a collection of rare potion ingredients, and a charmed chess set—and the bidding began. Evangeline and her companions watched with feigned interest, their attention occasionally wandering as the auction dragged on.

Evangeline found her gaze drifting to Sebastian beside her, his posture deceptively relaxed as he leaned back in his chair. His profile was sharply defined in the glow of the enchanted chandeliers, his jawline shadowed but strong, his brow furrowed slightly in quiet concentration as he flipped through the program.

She shouldn’t have been staring, but her eyes lingered anyway, tracing the line of his nose, the curve of his lips, the way his dark hair caught the golden light.

What was the point, she wondered, of enduring these events, of sitting through another evening of stares and whispers and hollow conversation, when all she wanted to do was take his hand and pull him away from it all? The powder rooms were just down the hall—empty, secluded, quiet. She could already picture it. The door clicking shut, the weight of his hands finding her waist, and the hum of his voice low and teasing as he asked what had gotten into her.

Not for the first time—and certainly not the thousandth—she imagined what it would be like to kiss him. Not the fleeting brush of lips she sometimes dared to hope for, but something unrestrained. Her breath caught as her mind supplied the image with clarity born of longing.

She imagined leaning in, the way her fingers might brush his jaw. She imagined the hitch in his breath, the way his lips might part just slightly before meeting hers. And the kiss wouldn’t be soft, not with him—Sebastian was too intense for that. It would be firm, almost demanding, and his hands would anchor her to him, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Her heart fluttered as her imagination ran wild. Would he kiss her back with the same reckless fervor she felt bubbling in her chest? Would his lips curve into that maddening smirk of his before claiming hers again? She could almost hear the deep, quiet laugh he’d let slip as they parted, his forehead resting against hers, their breath mingling in the quiet aftermath.

Her fingers tightened slightly around her champagne flute as warmth crept up her neck. It was torture, sitting beside him like this, pretending to care about an enchanted set of armor or a cursed dagger, when all she wanted was to lose herself in him. To close the gap between them, to put an end to the unbearable tension that hung over their every interaction, let the world around them fade into nothing as—

“Lot number twelve, ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer’s voice boomed, shattering her reverie. “The Sapphire Hourglass. A delicate and rare artifact, enchanted to freeze its sands in moments of pivotal decision-making. Bidding will begin at 200 galleons.”

Evangeline snapped back to reality. Her eyes widened as she glanced at the stage, then at Sebastian, who had shifted forward slightly, his gaze fixed on the hourglass.

And then, to her utter disbelief, he raised his hand.

“Two hundred and fifty galleons,” the auctioneer announced, nodding in Sebastian’s direction. A low murmur rippled through the crowd, heads turning to see who had started the bidding.

Evangeline blinked, her mouth parting in shock. She leaned closer, her voice a sharp whisper. “Sebastian! What are you doing?”

He didn’t look at her, his smirk barely visible as he leaned back in his chair, exuding an infuriating calm. “What does it look like? I’m bidding.”

Her heart skipped a beat, the heat rising in her cheeks. “You’re out of your mind.”

“No,” he murmured, his tone teasing yet resolute. “I’m making sure you get what you want.”

Before she could respond, another bidder signaled with their wand, their offer glowing faintly in the air. “Two hundred and seventy-five galleons,” the auctioneer called.

Sebastian’s hand went up again without hesitation. “Three hundred galleons,” the auctioneer declared, his voice rising with excitement.

Anne leaned forward, barely suppressing a laugh. “This is better than the dueling competition.”

Evangeline groaned softly, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. “Sebastian, stop,” she hissed. “This is ridiculous.”

A third bidder entered the fray, raising the stakes to 325 galleons. The auctioneer pointed toward them with enthusiasm. “Three hundred and twenty-five galleons!”

Without missing a beat, Sebastian raised his hand again, his voice low and steady as he leaned closer to Evangeline. “That hourglass belongs to you, Evie.”

Her breath hitched, a mix of exasperation and something warmer twisting in her chest. “Sebastian,” she whispered, her voice a blend of disbelief and warning, “this is more than three months of your rent!”

He shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Then it’s a good thing I don't need it for rent.”

Ominis snorted softly, his expression somewhere between amusement and resignation. “If nothing else, this will make for an excellent Prophet headline.”

Evangeline resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands as another bidder upped the ante to 350 galleons. Sebastian’s hand went up yet again. “Four hundred galleons,” the auctioneer announced, his voice alight with excitement.

The crowd stirred, their murmurs growing louder. Evangeline’s pulse raced, her heart torn between mortification and a warmth that refused to be ignored.

“Four hundred galleons going once… going twice…”

Evangeline barely registered the murmured awe around them as she stared at Sebastian, her chest tightening.

“Sold!” the auctioneer declared, bringing his gavel down with a flourish. “To the gentleman with the purple tie!”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, entirely at ease, while Anne burst into quiet laughter beside him.

Evangeline, meanwhile, could only shake her head, her lips pressing together to suppress the smile tugging at them. She should be furious. She should be mortified. But instead, she felt a warmth blooming in her chest, unrelenting and undeniable.

The intermission came as a welcome pause. The crowd began to disperse, clusters of guests mingling over champagne while others drifted toward the displayed relics for closer inspection. Sebastian excused himself to finalize the paperwork for the hourglass, his parting grin equal parts smug and endearing.

Evangeline found herself momentarily untethered, her gaze wandering over the room. Her feet carried her toward a quieter corner, where a large painting hung prominently on the wall. It was a breathtaking landscape of an enchanted valley, its rolling hills cloaked in mist and dotted with crystalline streams that seemed to shimmer under an unseen sun. She imagined herself there, free from the judgmental stares, the whispers, and the suffocating expectations that seemed to shadow her every move.

The sound of quiet footsteps broke her reverie.

She turned, her pulse quickening as a tall man stepped into view. He was composed, his tailored robes impeccable, and his presence exuded an unsettling calm. His features were sharp, his hair neatly combed back, and his dark eyes studied her with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

“Miss Sterling,” he said smoothly, inclining his head in a polite nod. His voice was low and steady, each word measured. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

Evangeline’s fingers tightened around her glass, her guard snapping into place. “You have me at a disadvantage, Mr…?”

“Forgive me,” he said, his smile thin but courteous. “My name is of little consequence. I am merely a representative of your family’s esteemed lineage. The Muldoons, of course.”

Her heart sank, the mention of the name enough to turn her blood cold. “A representative,” she echoed, her tone carefully neutral. “And what, precisely, are you representing?”

His smile widened slightly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Their interests. Their hopes for your future. You have, after all, become quite the prominent figure. A rising star, if you’ll allow me the indulgence.”

Evangeline didn’t reply, her silence deliberate as she studied him.

“I must say,” he continued, stepping closer, “you’ve made an impression tonight. Your entrance, your choice of company… bold, certainly. Admirable, even, depending who you ask.”

“I wasn’t aware my choice of company required commentary,” she replied coolly, her chin lifting slightly.

“Not commentary,” he corrected, his tone light. “Merely observation. One can’t help but take notice of the circles you choose to move in, especially given the… expectations placed upon you.”

The weight of his words pressed down on her, and she set her glass on a nearby table, her fingers flexing to rid them of their stiffness. “If you have a point, I suggest you make it.”

His expression didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something darker in his gaze. “You are, of course, aware of the responsibilities that come with your name. Your lineage carries a certain… prestige. One that must be upheld.”

Evangeline’s stomach tightened, but she forced her voice to remain steady. “I’ve been managing just fine without reminders from strangers.”

“Perhaps,” he allowed, his tone calm but edged. “But it is my duty to ensure that your choices reflect the esteem of your family. To guide you, if necessary.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Guide me? Or pressure me?”

“Merely to advise,” he replied smoothly, his smile unwavering. “You have such potential, after all. It would be a shame for certain decisions to… cast a shadow on such a bright future.”

The chill in his tone sent a shiver down her spine. “Is that a threat?”

“A suggestion,” he corrected softly, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “The right decisions have a way of ensuring everyone’s prosperity. But the wrong ones…” He trailed off, his gaze heavy. “Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Evangeline’s heart thundered in her chest, her palms growing clammy despite the coolness of her demeanor. “If this is supposed to intimidate me,” she said, her voice low but firm, “you’re wasting your time.”

His smile thinned, his eyes glinting with quiet menace. “I hope you continue to think so, Miss Sterling. Truly, I do.”

With a final incline of his head, he turned and melted back into the crowd, leaving her standing alone by the painting. The peaceful valley now seemed distant and unreachable, its magic overshadowed by the weight of the unspoken threat that hung in the air.

Evangeline exhaled shakily, her composure cracking as the weight of the conversation settled over her like a leaden cloak. For weeks, the Muldoons had been a shadow, exerting their pressure through whispers and veiled threats, wielding the power of the press like a finely honed blade. They had influenced headlines, shaped narratives, made her name a spectacle for the wizarding world’s scrutiny.

But this? This was different.

This wasn’t subtle manipulation or insinuation. It was direct, personal. The Muldoons weren’t content with shadows anymore—they were stepping into the light, making their presence known in a way that left no room for misinterpretation. They were serious now.

Evangeline’s breaths came shallow and quick as she struggled to steady herself. The enormity of it all—the expectations, the scrutiny, the barely veiled threats—was suffocating. For all her resolve, all her defiance, the reality of the Muldoons’ reach terrified her.

She turned back toward the crowd, desperate for some sense of normalcy, but the swirling conversations and glittering gowns only made her feel more unmoored. And then she saw him.

Sebastian was weaving through the guests, his dark eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. He was smiling faintly, that easy, confident expression she knew so well, but the moment his gaze locked on hers, his face fell. The color drained from his cheeks, replaced by a look of alarm as he quickened his pace, closing the distance between them in a few long strides.

“Evie,” he said quietly, his voice low and urgent as he reached her. His hands found her shoulders, his grip gentle but grounding. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth, but the words tangled in her throat. She shook her head, her hands gripping the fabric of her gown to keep them from trembling.

“Evie,” he repeated, softer this time, his brow furrowing as he leaned closer. “Talk to me. Please.”

She exhaled shakily, her voice a whisper. “They’re here, Sebastian."

"Who?" He subtly looked around the room, his brow furrowed. "Who's here?"

Evangeline couldn’t bring herself to answer. The words felt too heavy, too barbed with fear to say aloud. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her breath hitching.

“Evie,” he murmured, his voice quieter but no less urgent. “You’re scaring me. Who’s here?”

When she still couldn’t find the words, Sebastian didn’t wait. His hand closed around hers, warm and steady, and before she could protest, he was guiding her through the crowd. His movements were quick but deliberate, his grip firm enough to keep her grounded without drawing too much attention. She followed without resistance, her legs moving on autopilot as they slipped past the clusters of elegantly dressed guests.

He led her to a secluded hallway off the main ballroom, the ornate sconces casting soft, flickering light against the walls. The sound of the auction and murmured conversations faded into the background as they reached a quieter corner, shielded from prying eyes.

Sebastian turned to face her, his expression a mix of worry and frustration as he searched her face. His hands found her shoulders again, steadying her. “Evie,” he said firmly, “who is here? What happened?”

She shook her head, her fingers trembling as they clenched the folds of her gown. “It was one of them,” she finally managed, her voice unsteady. “A representative of the Muldoons.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his grip on her shoulders firming. “What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything directly,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “Just… veiled comments. Warnings. They talked about my ‘responsibilities’ to my family, about making choices that ‘reflect my station.’”

Sebastian exhaled slowly, his expression darkening. “Where are they now? Did you see where they went?”

She shook her head. “They just disappeared. I don’t even know their name. They didn’t introduce themselves."

His hands slid down her arms, his fingers curling lightly around her elbows as he leaned closer. "Alright. Okay. Just wait right here, okay? I'm going to find Ominis, and we're getting out of—"

"—I'm scared, Sebastian. This isn't just pulling strings from behind the scenes anymore, this is real, and I—"

Sebastian’s grip on her arms tightened. “I know,” he said softly, cutting her off. “I know, but I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her breath hitched, and her fingers unconsciously curled into the fabric of his jacket. “But what if you can’t stop them? What if they hurt you? Or worse?”

His expression softened, though the intensity in his eyes never waned. “They won’t,” he said simply. "Now stay right here, I'll be back."

Evangeline froze as Sebastian leaned in, his hands still resting firmly on her arms. The warmth of his lips brushed her forehead—a fleeting, tender moment that left her breathless. He’d never done that before, at least not in public, not even often in private. It was so quick, so instinctive, as though he couldn’t stop himself. And just like that, he was gone, disappearing down the hallway with a determined stride.

Her hands hovered in the air where she’d been holding his jacket, her pulse thundering in her ears. The touch lingered, the faint pressure of his kiss burning hotter than it should.

Why wouldn’t he just say it? Why wouldn’t he make whatever they were official? It wasn’t like Sebastian to hesitate. He was bold, stubborn, and unapologetically brash in every other aspect of his life. So why this?

The question burned in her chest but she shoved it aside. Now wasn’t the time. The chill of the Muldoon representative’s presence returned in full force, seeping into her bones as the reality of her situation reasserted itself.

The sound of hurried footsteps broke through Evangeline’s swirling thoughts. She looked up just as Sebastian reappeared, this time flanked by Anne and Ominis. Anne’s expression was tight with concern, her gown swishing around her as she quickened her pace. Ominis’s normally composed demeanor had cracked, his brow furrowed deeply as he navigated the corridor. Sebastian was carrying the small parcel containing the Sapphire Hourglass, its edges wrapped carefully in enchanted silk.

“Evie,” Anne said, reaching her first. Her hands landed gently on Evangeline’s arms, her gaze scanning her face. “What happened? Sebastian didn't say much—just that we needed to leave, and now.”

Evangeline’s throat tightened as she looked between them, her lips parting to respond, but Sebastian cut in.

“The Muldoons,” he said shortly, his voice low and sharp. “Someone from their camp found her. They’ve taken the gloves off.”

Anne’s face paled, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Merlin,” she muttered, her grip on Evangeline’s arms tightening. “Are you alright? Did they—”

“They didn’t touch her,” Sebastian said, his tone clipped. “But that doesn’t mean they didn’t leave their mark.”

“I’m fine,” Evangeline said quickly, her voice steadier than she expected. “It wasn’t… direct. Just veiled warnings.”

Ominis tilted his head toward her, his expression grim. “Veiled threats from a family like that are never idle. If they’ve shown their hand, it means they’re escalating.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable. “Which is why we’re not staying another second. Whatever this auction raises for St. Mungo’s, it can do it without us.” He turned back to Evangeline, his eyes softer now but still filled with urgency. “Are you ready?”

Evangeline nodded, the motion small and automatic, too stunned to form a coherent response. Anne slipped her arm through hers, her grip steady.

“Come on,” Anne murmured gently, guiding her forward.

As they moved swiftly through the dimly lit hallway, Evangeline caught fragments of Sebastian and Ominis’s low voices behind her. Their tones were sharp, purposeful, but the words blurred together, her mind too clouded to focus on their planning.

“—need to know who it was,” Sebastian said, his voice laced with barely restrained anger. “They don’t just send anyone.”

Ominis responded, his tone measured but no less intense. “We’ll figure it out. For now, getting her out of here is the priority.”

The clatter of their hurried footsteps filled the silence as they made their way to the entrance. By the time they reached the waiting carriage, the cool night air hit Evangeline’s face, pulling her slightly from her haze. Sebastian helped her inside first, his hand firm yet careful on her arm with Ominis and Anne following close behind.

Sebastian lingered for a moment at the open door, his sharp gaze scanning the street, as though ensuring no one suspicious was lingering nearby. Only when he was satisfied did he step inside, closing the door firmly behind him.

Evangeline sat in the far corner, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she tried to regulate her breathing. The Muldoons’ words echoed in her mind, their ominous weight refusing to dissipate. But then Sebastian slid into the seat beside her, his movements calm and deliberate, and without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The warmth of him was immediate, steadying in a way that words couldn’t be. He didn’t speak, didn’t press her to say anything more. He simply pulled her close, his grip reassuring, unyielding. Her body relaxed against him, almost unconsciously, her head coming to rest lightly against his shoulder.

For the first time since the encounter, her heartbeat began to slow, the suffocating fear receding just enough for her to breathe.

Anne and Ominis exchanged a brief glance, but neither said anything, their silent support filling the quiet carriage. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the cobblestones and the steady presence of Sebastian at her side dulled the sharp edges of her fear, if only a little.

She wasn’t safe—not really. Not with the Muldoons involved. But for now, with Sebastian’s arm around her and her closest friends nearby, she felt safer. It would be enough to carry her through the night.

As the carriage rolled on, the weight of her exhaustion pressed down on her, but her thoughts refused to quiet. She wasn’t sure what lay ahead—what decisions she would have to make, or how much longer she could resist the pressures closing in around her.

~

The crisp morning air was a sharp contrast to the heavy, oppressive atmosphere they’d left behind in London. As the group apparated into the quiet village of Feldcroft, a semblance of comfort settled over Evangeline. The scent of damp earth and wildflowers, the gentle rustle of the nearby trees—everything about this place whispered of simplicity, of peace, like a second home—a place where the weight of societal expectations and the ever-present shadow of the Muldoons couldn’t reach her. At least, that was the hope.

Sebastian led the way to the cottage door, carrying his trunk in one hand and fishing for the key with the other. His steps were sure, his demeanor steady, though Evangeline could see the tension lingering in the set of his shoulders. He held the door open for her, their eyes meeting briefly as she passed.

With a flick of her wand, Anne had a few candles lit, their soft glow casting warm light over the cozy interior. The scent of lavender mingled with the faint, earthy aroma of the old wooden beams, and a fire crackled to life in the hearth, chasing away the chill of the morning air. Evangeline stepped further inside, her boots clicking softly against the floor as her gaze swept over the space.

Ominis entered last, taking in the subtle sounds and scents of the room with a faint smile. “Quiet, just as I remembered,” he remarked, his tone calm. “A welcome change, considering the chaos we left behind.”

“That’s the point,” Sebastian said. His voice was low, but the undercurrent of determination was clear. “We’ll stay here until things settle down.”

Anne busied herself in the kitchen, her wand flicking toward the cupboards as she set about making tea. “The Prophet can speculate all it wants,” she said, her voice carrying over the gentle clink of cups and saucers. “They’re not going to find anything exciting while we’re here.”

Ominis arched a brow in her direction, his expression skeptical. “Give it time. They’ll turn our absence into a scandal soon enough.”

The conversation around the table continued, a steady rhythm of words that seemed to swirl around Evangeline without ever fully reaching her. Ominis’s calm, measured voice carried concerns about the Prophet’s growing influence and the Muldoons’ escalating tactics, each point driving home the precariousness of their situation. Across from him, Anne’s voice attempted to counterbalance the tension, injecting a lighter tone wherever she could, her bright optimism a stark contrast to the undercurrent of worry in the room.

Evangeline wanted to engage, but her thoughts remained tangled in the events of the past twenty-four hours. Every word spoken seemed to echo in her mind, warped and overlapping with the Muldoon representative’s veiled warnings

“I’m going to unpack,” she murmured abruptly, not waiting for a response. With a quick flick of her wand, she summoned her trunk and turned toward the hallway, her steps brisk and deliberate as she left the others behind.

The sound of their voices faded behind her as she approached her bedroom. She paused in the doorway, her eyes scanning the space. The bed was neatly made, the quilt folded with care. The small window let in the soft glow of daylight, and a vase of long-wilted wildflowers from her last visit sat on the nightstand. It was perfectly fine. Perfectly practical. And yet…

Her fingers curled around the handle of her trunk, and before she could overthink it, she turned on her heel. The wheels of the trunk rattled softly against the floorboards as she guided it down the hall to Sebastian’s room.

The door was ajar, and she nudged it open with her foot, stepping inside.

His room was patchwork of past and present, a stark contrast to the primly decorated but relatively empty bedroom Evangeline had just abandoned. A sturdy, well-worn bookshelf stood in the corner, sagging slightly under the weight of books that ranged from spellwork manuals to Muggle adventure novels and an assortment of ancient, dog-eared tomes.

Framed photographs lined the dresser, each one alive with movement. Evangeline recognized a young Anne, smiling brightly in a field of swaying grass, her arms spread wide as though she could embrace the entire world. Another featured a younger Sebastian, dirt-smudged and grinning mischievously, holding up a particularly large toad. Her gaze lingered on the most recent photograph: a candid shot of Sebastian, Ominis, and herself sitting by the lake, their laughter frozen in time.

Sebastian's bed, unmade and inviting, was piled high with mismatched quilts, each one patched together in a way that spoke of years of use and care. A battered broomstick leaned against the corner, its handle scratched and worn, alongside one of her Gryffindor scarves that she'd thought she'd lost.

“Well, well,” Sebastian drawled from behind her, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Couldn’t even manage one night away, huh?”

She turned, startled, to find him watching her with a teasing grin. His eyes, however, betrayed his genuine pleasure at seeing her there.

“I—” she started, her cheeks flushing. “I just thought… I'd be coming in here to sleep anyway, right? So I might as well unpack here,” she finished, her voice trailing off as her cheeks flushed a deeper pink.

Sebastian’s grin widened, but there was a softness in his expression that made her stomach flip. He stepped into the room, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against the dresser. “Oh, so you’ve already planned this out, have you? Moved right past asking permission and straight to claiming my room.”

“I'm not claiming it,” she countered, folding her arms in return, though her voice lacked conviction. “But in my defence, you had one of my scarves in here all along.”

Sebastian glanced at the scarf, then back at her, his grin taking on a slightly sheepish edge. “Oh, I found it after one of your Quidditch practices and thought I’d hang onto it. Just forgot to give it back.”

“Forgot?” she echoed, her tone disbelieving but tinged with amusement. She stepped closer, plucking the scarf from its resting place. “How long have you had this, Sebastian?”

His grin faltered, a rare hint of bashfulness creeping into his expression. “A while.”

Evangeline narrowed her eyes. "Define 'a while,'" she pressed.

Instead of answering, Sebastian crossed the room in a few easy strides, his hand darting out to take the scarf from her grasp. “You know,” he began, already turning toward the bookshelf, “it’s an important artifact now. A memento, if you will. I can’t just hand it over so easily.”

He placed the scarf on the top shelf, well out of her reach, then turned back to her with a smug grin.

Evangeline stared up at the shelf, then back at him, her lips parting in mock outrage. "What are you doing?"

"Protecting my belongings," he replied, leaning casually against the bookshelf, arms crossed, as if daring her to try and reclaim it.

She didn’t hesitate. With a determined huff, she stepped closer and stretched up on her toes, reaching for the scarf. She could almost touch the edge, her fingers brushing the fabric, but Sebastian shifted in front of her, blocking her way.

“Oh, come on!” she protested, trying to sidestep him. “It’s mine!”

“Well,” he said, looking down at her, “you left it lying around, so I think that makes it fair game.”

With a frustrated groan, she stretched higher, but before she could grab the scarf—or retrieve her wand to summon it—Sebastian stepped forward. In one swift movement, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling into his chest. His chin came to rest gently on the top of her head, and the warmth of his embrace momentarily stilled her protests.

“Sebastian,” she muttered, her voice muffled against his shoulder, “this is hardly fair.”

“Fair?” he repeated, a teasing lilt to his voice. “You barged into my room, claimed my space, and now you want to take my scarf? I think I’m entitled to a little leverage.”

She sighed, her hands falling to her sides as she allowed herself to relax in his hold, though her tone remained wry. "Fine. But you're going to have to let go if I have any chance at unpacking."

Sebastian chuckled, his arms tightening. “Oh, I don’t know,” he teased. “You seem pretty comfortable right where you are. Why would I ruin that?”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched with a reluctant smile. “You’ve won, alright? Just let me go.”

He hummed thoughtfully, as if considering her plea. “I don’t know. It’s awfully cozy like this.”

“Sebastian,” she warned, though her voice was far from menacing.

He chuckled, leaning down slightly so his breath stirred a stray lock of her hair. “You’re too easy to rile up, you know that?”

“And you’re too stubborn for your own good,” she shot back, though she made no move to pull away. Instead, she let out a resigned sigh, her voice softening. “Fine. Stay like this forever if you want, but you'll regret it when I can’t unpack the snacks.”

That got him. “Wait—you brought snacks?” he asked, his tone suddenly interested.

She smirked, glancing up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You’re cruel,” he muttered, finally releasing her.

“Indeed, I'm truly evil for procuring cauldron cakes for you,” she quipped, smoothing her hair as she turned back toward the trunk.

Sebastian flopped onto the bed, sprawling lazily across the mismatched quilts as he watched Evangeline begin unpacking her trunk. The faint squeak of the hinges and the soft rustle of fabric filled the space as she worked, her movements methodical. He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes following her with a mixture of curiosity and something softer, harder to name.

After a beat of silence, he broke it, his voice gentler than usual. “How are you holding up?”

Evangeline paused, her hand hovering over a folded jumper. The question caught her off guard, though it shouldn’t have. Slowly, she straightened, smoothing the fabric before setting it aside.

“I’m fine,” she said, though the words sounded thin even to her own ears.

“Evie,” he said, his tone pressing now, “come on.”

She exhaled softly, her fingers brushing over the edge of her trunk as she turned to face him. “I’m afraid to know what the Prophet wrote this morning,” she admitted.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his earlier teasing demeanor giving way to a sharper, more protective edge. “Whatever they wrote, it’s not worth your worry,” he said firmly. “You know they’ll twist anything to sell more copies. Let them talk. None of it matters.”

“Of course it matters,” she countered quietly. “Especially now that the Muldoons are stepping in for real, Sebastian. It’s not just gossip anymore."

He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on hers. “Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together.”

Together. He said it like it was an unshakable truth, yet he wouldn’t give her the clarity she so desperately needed about them. No definition. No clarity. No promise.

Evangeline turned away from him, busying herself with the next item in her trunk, though her movements were slower now. She pulled out a folded cloak, smoothing the fabric with her hands before draping it neatly over the back of a chair. Her mind, however, was far from her task.

It was in New Zealand, her chance to join an expedition halfway across the world, to carve out a name for herself as a curse breaker.

“Evie?” Sebastian’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, soft but insistent.

She looked up, startled to find him standing beside her. He’d closed the space between them while she’d been lost in her head, his expression a mix of concern and something she couldn’t quite place.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. But there was no mistaking the worry in his eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

She hesitated, her throat tightening as the weight of it all threatened to spill over. She could tell him about the expedition, about the deadline she was rapidly running out of time to meet. But she already knew how he’d react. He wouldn’t want her to go, and not because he didn’t believe in her or her dreams, but because he would miss her.

And yet he wouldn’t ask her to stay. At least, not in the way she needed him to.

But then... maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. The thought struck her like lightning.

Maybe New Zealand was the answer, not just to her professional dreams but to everything else, too.

Perhaps the Muldoons wouldn’t see the point in hounding her if she left. A world away, they’d have no reason to pursue their schemes, no justification to watch her every move. And as much as she hated the thought, maybe distance was what she and Sebastian needed, too. They’d be free of the constant push and pull, the endless limbo that had her heart trapped somewhere between hope and despair.

The allure of it was undeniable—freedom, escape, and a fresh start. The chance to leave behind the weight of the Muldoons, the Prophet, and society’s expectations. The chance to carve out her own path without the shadows of her past or the uncertainty of her present holding her back.

“Evie,” Sebastian’s voice broke through again, softer this time. “You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is.”

She stilled for a moment, her breath catching. Her lips parted as if to respond, but the words died in her throat. Instead, she forced a small smile, shaking her head. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

Sebastian didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press her further. He just nodded, his expression flickering with something she couldn’t quite place—disappointment, maybe, or frustration.

Evangeline finished unpacking in silence, placing the last few items into the wardrobe and straightening her cloak on the chair. When everything was finally in its place, she stepped back, brushing her hands over her skirt.

Sebastian had retreated to his side of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He watched her silently, his brows knit together in a way that made her chest ache. She offered him a faint smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes, before slipping past him and heading toward the sitting room.

The soft murmur of voices greeted her as she entered. Anne was curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. Ominis sat at the small table by the window, a folded copy of The Daily Prophet resting in front of him. He ran his fingers over its surface, the print translating into quiet, measured sentences that flowed seamlessly from his lips.

“‘Sallow and Sterling: A Scandalous Show at the Auction,’” Ominis read, his voice carrying a distinct edge of disdain. “‘Coordinated ensembles and whispered exchanges left no doubt in the minds of attendees—Miss Sterling’s defiance of pureblood tradition was on full display, and it seems she’s chosen to align herself with a man whose reputation remains contentious.’”

Evangeline froze in the doorway, her stomach twisting. Ominis’s words hung in the air like a tangible weight, each syllable laced with the kind of veiled judgment only the Prophet could conjure. Anne looked up from her tea, her expression softening as she caught sight of Evangeline.

“You don’t have to listen to this,” Anne said gently, setting her cup down on the side table. “Ominis, maybe we should—”

“No,” Evangeline interrupted, her voice firmer than she’d intended. “I need to hear it.”

Ominis hesitated, his fingers pausing over the page. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to gauge her resolve, before continuing. “‘Despite his recent accolades as a duelist and his growing reputation within the Auror division, Mr. Sallow remains a polarizing figure. The tragedy of his parents’ deaths and the infamous fallout with his late uncle Solomon Sallow cast a long shadow over his accomplishments.’”

Sebastian’s presence behind her was suddenly unmistakable. Evangeline didn’t need to turn around to know he’d followed her into the room.

Ominis’s voice softened as he continued. “‘Though some praise Miss Sterling’s boldness in rejecting societal norms, others question the wisdom of her choices. Our sources claim that the Muldoon family is strongly against her association with Mr. Sallow, which may prove detrimental to her standing within certain influential circles.’”

“Enough,” Sebastian said, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. “We get the point.”

Ominis closed the paper with a faint rustle, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But you needed to know how they’re spinning it.”

Anne rose from her seat, crossing the room to stand beside Evangeline. “It’s rubbish,” she said firmly, her hand resting lightly on Evangeline’s arm. “They’ll say whatever they think will sell papers. None of it matters.”

Ominis cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Perhaps we should take this opportunity to enjoy the quiet while we can,” he suggested. “The Prophet can speculate all it wants. It won’t follow us here.”

Anne nodded in agreement, offering Evangeline a warm smile. “Tea? Or something stronger?”

Evangeline hesitated, the corners of her lips twitching upward. “Tea’s fine,” she said softly, taking a seat by the fire.

As Anne moved to pour her a cup, Sebastian lingered near the table, his fingers drumming idly against its surface. Evangeline felt his gaze on her, but she didn’t look up.

To her relief, the rest of the day passed with a relative sense of calm. Despite the heavy start to the morning, the cottage soon filled with laughter and light chatter as the group settled into their temporary sanctuary. Anne, ever the orchestrator of levity, declared that they would hold a chess competition.

“You’ll enjoy this,” she had said with a mischievous grin, already pulling the old chess set from one of the shelves. “It’ll be good for all of us.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “What you mean is, you plan to humiliate all of us.”

Anne winked. “Exactly.”

The pairings were set with Anne’s usual authority. “First round: Ominis versus me. Evie versus Sebastian. The winners face off, and the ultimate loser will be declared when Evie inevitably falls apart under pressure.”

Evangeline groaned dramatically, drawing a laugh from Sebastian. “Can’t I just skip straight to the inevitable loss?” she asked, crossing her arms with mock indignation.

“Absolutely not,” Anne replied, her grin widening. “Participation is mandatory.”

The matches began in earnest, with Ominis and Anne seated across from each other at the small table in the sitting room. Their match was a spectacle, the pair trading sharp commentary and subtle moves. Ominis’s cool logic clashed with Anne’s unpredictable strategy, the game stretching longer than anyone anticipated.

“You play like a madwoman,” Ominis muttered at one point, his brows furrowing as Anne sacrificed a knight to trap his queen.

“And yet,” Anne replied with a flourish of her wand as her bishop slid into place, “checkmate.”

“Well played,” Ominis said graciously, though his smirk hinted at his competitiveness. “I’ll be demanding a rematch soon.”

Next came Evangeline and Sebastian, and as expected, it was a disaster for her from the start. Sebastian played with a casual air, his movements confident and precise, while Evangeline stared at the board as though it were plotting against her.

“Your move, Evie,” Sebastian said, resting his chin in his hand as he waited.

She frowned at the pieces, moving her knight with cautious deliberation. Sebastian’s smirk deepened as he countered almost instantly, his queen sweeping across the board to take one of her rooks.

Their game ended in predictable fashion, with Evangeline’s king falling to Sebastian’s queen in under twenty minutes. “Checkmate,” he declared, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.

“Congratulations,” she deadpanned, though her tone carried a hint of amusement. “You’ve defeated the worst chess player in Britain.”

The final match between the Sallow twins was nothing short of intense. Anne played with aggressive precision, her moves swift and calculated, while Sebastian leaned into a more patient, defensive strategy. Ominis provided commentary from the sidelines, his sharp observations earning groans from both siblings.

When Anne finally declared checkmate, Sebastian slumped dramatically in his chair, throwing his arms up in mock defeat. “You must have cheated,” he accused, though his grin betrayed his teasing.

“I don’t need to cheat to beat you,” Anne shot back, crossing her arms with a triumphant smirk. “You just can’t handle losing to your little sister.”

“Little by minutes,” Sebastian muttered.

As the afternoon faded into evening, Anne and Ominis decided to take a walk through the village, leaving Sebastian and Evangeline behind to prepare dinner. The task felt effortless, the two of them falling into a familiar rhythm as they moved around the small kitchen. Sebastian chopped vegetables with practiced ease while Evangeline stirred a simmering pot on the stove, their movements synchronized without the need for words.

It was a kind of domesticity Evangeline had grown used to with him—comfortable, easy, and yet charged with an undercurrent of something neither of them dared name. She caught herself watching him out of the corner of her eye, the quiet focus in his expression, the way the soft light highlighted the sharp angles of his face.

The sound of wings broke through the quiet, startling them both. A jet-black owl swept through the open window, its feathers sleek and gleaming in the fading light. It landed on the back of a chair, its sharp eyes fixed on Evangeline as it extended a leg.

Sebastian was the first to react, setting down his knife as he approached the bird cautiously. “Well, that’s not ominous at all,” he muttered.

Evangeline’s stomach twisted as she untied the envelope from the owl’s leg. The wax seal was unmarked, but the rich, dark parchment and the precision of the handwriting left no doubt in her mind who it was from. Her fingers trembled slightly as she broke the seal.

Miss Sterling,

It has become evident that your recent behavior suggests a divergence from the path set before you—a path steeped in legacy, tradition, and honor. While youthful indiscretions are expected to some degree, your continued defiance risks tarnishing the Muldoon name.

We have tolerated your forays into public association with Mr. Sallow, despite the murmurs it has caused. However, your performance at the recent charity auction has left us with little choice but to intervene. A lady of your station must understand the gravity of her decisions—decisions that will echo far beyond her lifetime.

Consider this a reminder, Miss Sterling. A family’s legacy is not forged in rebellion but in loyalty and tradition. You would do well to remember your place before your choices cast a shadow on the our name.

Sincerely,

The Muldoon Family

Evangeline’s chest tightened as her eyes reached the final line. The ink seemed to seep into her skin, the weight of the message constricting her breath.

Sebastian’s jaw was set in a hard line as he finished reading over her shoulder. “They’re just trying to scare you,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “That’s all this is. They think if they push hard enough, you’ll back down.”

Evangeline didn’t respond. Her gaze remained fixed on the parchment in her hand, and she reached for the counter with the other to keep herself steady. The room felt smaller, the walls pressing in, her breath shallow and uneven.

“Evie,” Sebastian said, his tone softening as he stepped closer. He guided her to set the letter down on the table, his hands moving to her arms. “Hey, look at me.”

She hesitated before lifting her eyes to his, her vision blurring with unshed tears. “They won’t stop,” she whispered. “They’re not going to stop until I fall in line, and— “

“Come on,” Sebastian said gently, guiding her to one of the chairs by the table. “Sit down for a minute.”

Evangeline let him lead her, her legs feeling like they might give out beneath her. She sank into the chair, her hands gripping the edges as if to keep herself grounded. Sebastian crouched in front of her, his hands covering her knee.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Just breathe.”

She tried, but her chest felt tight, each breath shallow and labored. The room spun slightly, the edges of her vision blurring as an unfamiliar heat spread through her body.

“Sebastian,” she whispered, her voice faint. “I don’t feel—”

Her words cut off abruptly as the heat intensified, spreading from her chest to her limbs. She doubled over slightly, her forehead resting against the table as her breathing grew more ragged.

“Evie?” Sebastian’s voice sharpened with alarm. He stood quickly, his hands moving to her shoulders as he bent over her. “Evie, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she managed, her voice trembling. “It’s—something’s wrong.”

Sebastian moved to the door and pulled it open, his voice raised. “Anne! Ominis!”

The sound of hurried footsteps filled the cottage as Anne and Ominis rushed in. Anne’s eyes widened as she took in the scene, immediately dropping to Evangeline’s side. “What happened?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“She said she didn’t feel well,” Sebastian said, his tone tight as he knelt beside Evangeline again. “It came on suddenly. She—” He glanced at the parchment still on the table, his expression darkening. “I think it has to do with that letter.”

Anne immediately straightened, her face hardening with determination as her healer training took over. “Sebastian, get her into the sitting room,” she ordered, her voice steady but urgent. “Lay her down on the sofa. Ominis, check the letter for magical traces.”

Sebastian didn’t hesitate. His arms slid under Evangeline, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and he felt her shiver as a faint sheen of sweat began to form on her skin. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and tight with worry.

Meanwhile, Ominis moved to the table, his wand already drawn. He muttered an incantation under his breath, the tip of his wand glowing faintly as he ran it over the surface of the parchment. A faint, dark aura began to pulse around the edges of the letter, shimmering faintly in the dim light.

“It’s laced with something,” Ominis said, his voice grim. “Not a curse—it’s alchemical. A toxin.”

Anne swore under her breath as she knelt beside the sofa, her wand moving in precise, fluid motions as she cast a series of diagnostic charms over Evangeline. “Non-lethal,” she murmured after a moment, her voice clipped with focus. “But it’s enough to make her sick. Fever, dizziness, muscle weakness—it’s designed to incapacitate, not kill.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened as he hovered beside the sofa, one hand still resting on Evangeline’s arm. “What do we do?” he asked, his voice low but taut with tension. “How do we fix it?”

“I’ll brew a counteragent,” Anne said firmly. “But it’s going to take a few hours. In the meantime, we need to keep her stable. Ominis, can you grab my potions kit from my trunk? It’s in the bedroom.”

Ominis nodded, already turning toward the hallway. Anne turned her attention back to Evangeline, her wand tracing a faint line of light over her chest. “She needs fluids,” she said, glancing at Sebastian. “Get some water. And a cold cloth for her forehead.”

Sebastian hesitated for only a second before nodding and heading for the kitchen. He returned moments later with a glass of water and a damp cloth, which Anne took and pressed gently against Evangeline’s flushed skin.

“She’ll be alright,” Anne said, her voice softer now as she worked. “It’s going to take some time, but we’ll flush it out of her system. Just stay with her, Sebastian.”

Sebastian nodded as he sank to the floor beside her. Evangeline’s breathing was shallow but steady, her lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks as she murmured something faint and unintelligible. He leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “I’m here, Evie. You’re safe.”

Ominis returned with Anne’s potions kit, and she immediately set to work, her hands moving deftly as she pulled out vials and ingredients. The room fell into a tense, focused silence, the crackle of the fire and the quiet clink of glass the only sounds as Anne prepared the antidote.

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[pippin-katz]

what do you think about how nick and taylor don't like or comment on each other's post especially the ones after the strike when they both tagged each other? taylor reposted the other cast members posts and commented and liked but didn't do the same with Nick and Nick did interact and repost the bottoms cast posts. I'm not being a hater. I just found it odd, someone on twitter was saying how they do it on purpose bc they know some people ship them but idk isn't that weird move especially when you want to hype your movie. I love their dynamic and i feel kinda upset ngl I hope there's no drama recently taylor told a fan and when the fan asked about him and Nick he said they keep in touch often and they're good friends. i hope he was being genuine. idc if they aren't close close but in a weird way I will feel sad if there's drama

I want to believe that you have no ill intentions, but this issue is a real one in all fandom culture, and other people might need to hear this too. I'm gonna be blunt with you:

You're manufacturing drama.

They have not done or said anything that would imply that they don't like each other. In fact, they've established multiple times that they are close friends. The way they behave on social media does not establish or represent what their relationship is like in their real lives.

They could do whatever they wanted on their public accounts that could make people think there's bad blood, and actually be texting each other 24/7 behind the scenes. They could block each other's socials and watch everyone scramble while they just laugh at the chaos.

Speculating about the relationship of two grown, professional men in film industry based on the tiniest amounts of "evidence" is not good behavior.

In case you don't realize it, you are essentially suggesting that, based purely on biased observations and jumping to conclusions, that Nick and Taylor could be lying about being friends.

I find it concerning that your reaction to Taylor saying they keep in touch and are close is to question if he's being "genuine". How does two grown men acting differently than you would expect or want them to suggest that they are not being "genuine"?

If Taylor saying to a fan's face isn't "believable" enough, what do you want them to do? Post screenshots of their text messages with time stamps and dates to prove they talk to each other?

They do not need to "prove" anything to you. They owe you nothing about the details of their personal lives. They are not dolls existing for your entertainment. They are human beings.

This needs to be said and understood more in every fandom, so don't think I've aimed all this directly at you personally, Anon. Again, I want to believe you have no ill intentions, but I want to make it clear how small things like this can be unhealthy for you, for the rest of the fandom, and of course, to the public figures involved.

[katsona-the-katsequel]

Doppelgängers

A list of the different personifications of aspects of oneself in Persona.

Shadow Self

Representation of the public cognition, person's desire, person's insecurities, and person's fear of public perception (everyone say: "thank you, Hiding in Private").

Distinguishable for their unnatural eyes.

Everyone develops one at some point in life (possibly during early teenage years).

Love to dunk on themselves, unless they're a Palace Ruler, then they dunk on everyone else... before dunking on themselves.

Must be battled and/or accepted by the individual they represent to disappear or become a Persona.

Can be found anywhere in the Expanse. If the issues the Shadow represents are too strong, they form a Dungeon to live in. If their desires become distorted, they form a Palace. Both structures attract regular shadows.

So tied to the individual that any harm done to the Shadow Self will be reflected on the real one. If the Shadow Self is killed, the real individual dies as well.

With the magic of science, can be forced into unstable artificial Personas.

Splitting

Shadows can be naturally split into more aspects of oneself if an inner conflict is too big for said Shadow to represent all of it.

Split into more specific aspects, Shadows gain more autonomy.

Some of the Shadows may want to obliterate the other Shadows if they have opposing aspects. This way the specific aspect gains more power inside the real person's psyche.

Under the Rumor Curse

Nyarly takes advantage of his domain to take control over Shadows and make them do his bidding.

Shadows basically thrive under the Rumor Curse, leaning more on their "public cognition" aspect.

Can lean on said public's perception to continue existing after the individual they represent dies.

Have a stronger desire to not only kill their real selves, but replace them as well.

The combination of greater autonomy and desire to replace the real versions grants them the ability to fight with Reverse Personas instead of transforming into bigger monsters.

May be formed regardless if the individual already has a Persona. Rumors about anyone exist regardless if they've figured themselves out, after all.

The opposite of a Shadow Self. Ideals are what an individual wishes they were and how they want to be perceived.

(EDIT: Shiori's Shadow wasn't born from the Rumor Curse. It was truly born from her subconscious and manipulated by Nyarly. Sorry about the mistake 🐧).

Ideal Self

SPECULATION ALERT: Might form as naturally as a Shadow, maybe even earlier than the teenage years. The moment a kid is asked what they want to be when they grow up, it's game.

SPECULATION ALERT: Unknown where they naturally reside, though it might be the Expanse as well.

Benevolent by nature, will always help their real self.

Can fight by summoning their own version of Personas.

(I don't have pics of P2's Ideal Selves, but they exist 😔)

Cognitive Self

Representation of how the individual is seen by a specific person.

Created from the perception of someone else, with no input from the individual.

Mostly found in Palaces.

Can be fought, but their power depends on what the Palace Ruler thinks of them and their death doesn't affect the real self.

Under the Rumor Curse

Lean more on rumors for their creation, rather than a single person's perception.

Can coexist in the physical world with the real selves.

Mostly come into being when the rumor is too contradictory to the real thing (like death rumors), unlike normal rumors that become part of a person.

Alternate Self

Come into being whenever there is an alternate timeline.

I suppose characters from P5X would count as this.

Anima/Animus

So far, has only been shown as a genderbent version of an individual.

They're not even called this, but I felt they needed a special distinction for lore-implication-reasons, and if Atlus can play loosely with Jungian terms, so can I.

Not even I know what's up with Theo.

Shapeshifters

Beings with the power to change their appearance to look like someone else.

Somehow both more AND less common than it should be.

[darcytaylor]

There is a pattern to these fandom freakouts that's quite frankly become exhausting. Every time L hasn't posted in a while, trolls come out of the woodwork, posting shit affecting his loved ones, hoping to spur him into action. This is what happened last time with the HBS likes. Every time there's info or even so much as a hint that he's still with A, a smear campaign against him is launched, without fail. But if he posts something about Bton, all is forgotten in seconds, he's suddenly uwu babygurl Lukey Newts, perfect boy. Every. Fucking. Time. This is what happens whenever a celebrity isn't doing a little monkey dance for the fandom. And it's such a weird thing - if they're obsessed with someone, it doesn't necessarily mean that they love or even like them. In which case, I would like to kindly ask - why are they even here? Like, what are they hoping to get out of this experience?

Personally, I'm tired of going into any Bton fandom space at this point, hoping to see what's new and hopefully have a good time, and getting bombarded with literal nonsense that will be disproven within hours yet will somehow linger in the collective fandom memory and become a building block of increasingly unfounded theories that have diverged completely from reality, yet get regurgitated as fact every time new info emerges. They always find a way to contort even the most benign piece of info into intractable timelines of things that have been given meaning that they simply don't bear. Literally if you were to pull a thread, the whole thing would fall apart. Yet, these same things get resuscitated every time the fandom is mad at L or N or whoever for not doing whatever it is they think they should be doing.

The entitlement is mind-blowing and the rinse-repeat cycle of chicken-littling over the minutest thing is sucking every bit of joy out of being in this fandom anymore. It has become more time-consuming just trying to curate my experience than actually consuming content I'd like to see. What is even the point anymore, folks, huh? Would your own lives withstand the same kind of scrutiny you're putting these people under? They're just trying to make entertainment and a living out of it, what's the point of ruining everything? Whence even the urge? None of this is that deep. Is everyone just a miserable fuck anymore? I'm sorry for ranting, but it's become not worth it for me anymore when May was such a blessed time. Why can't we all stay in that energy? What good could possibly come of this? Thank you for listening and take care of yourselves, everyone.

I totally get where you're coming from. Fandoms can become overwhelming, and it sounds like you're feeling really drained by all the drama and negativity. It’s hard when a space you used to enjoy turns into a battleground of speculation, entitlement, and frustration. Your feelings about how fans treat celebrities and the constant cycle of drama are completely valid. I've noticed this pattern as well. It’s disheartening when every action or inaction of a public figure is scrutinized and twisted into something negative. Luke might not have handled everything perfectly, but the extreme reactions often reflect a lack of empathy and misplaced expectations.

It’s also frustrating when fandom spaces are overwhelmed with misinformation and sensationalism. This is why I found myself rolling my eyes at the information coming out yesterday. People should be more mindful about the sources of their information and why it’s being spread. The effort to sift through and debunk myths can be more exhausting than just enjoying the content. Constantly having to defend yourself or distance from the negativity to keep your enjoyment intact is disheartening.

It’s tough when people criticize you for trying to view the situation from a different perspective and not just join in the attack without knowing all the facts (or at least a good portion of them). It’s definitely tiring. I was feeling this yesterday because of the asks I was getting.

Remember, it's perfectly okay to step back if the environment is no longer enjoyable or is affecting your well-being. Fandoms should be a place for sharing enthusiasm and connecting with others who feel the same way, not a source of constant stress and conflict. I hope you find a way to rekindle your enjoyment of the fandom or at least find some peace with it. Take care of yourself and focus on what makes you happy. ❤️

[houseofbrat]

Still so William let his cancer stricken wife being trolled online for the mother day pictures as well have her carry bags during at the farmers market. William sigh

That's the worst part. She had cancer all along and William was like "all right under the bus you go Cathy!"

Meanwhile the stans are calling him a hot zaddy and lusting after him.

Granted we are on Reddit so I guess the bare minimum is expected for men.

They have an entire press office and people that they pay to be their mouthpiece to the public.  Why the hell didn’t they just hand all of this off to them to have a plan to roll out to the public?  How did this go so badly?

Honestly, I'd love to know the whole story. Just to be clear, I mean the whole story of the PR fiasco, not Kate's specific medical problems.

This might be an incredibly unpopular opinion, not sure, but I really disagree with everyone saying oh she shouldn't have had to tell us about her cancer, she should have full privacy, etc. I agree with those thoughts for celebrities and influencers, but for people supposed to lead a country and whose lives are being fully funded by taxpayers, I do think they owe a duty of transparency around their health. I'm in the U.S. and we've all seen outrage because Biden's defense secretary kept cancer a secret for like a day, because Trump refused to release his physical results, I could go on.

I think it’s a really hard judgement to make because royalty is such a unique role, and there really isn’t much to compare it to.  Not to mention that there are 2 separate questions: what was she obligated to announce and what should they have expected as far as levels of curiosity about a high profile public figure.  I do think that there would have been strategies that they could have used to better preserve privacy in the face of public curiosity.

I agree. I tend to think royalty doesn't get to be totally private about major life events but that doesn't mean they don't deserve ANY privacy. I just feel like the outraged comments about how sad it is she was forced to tell people because of their evil speculating ways are going too far in the other direction.

I don't think she necessarily has to share a diagnosis, but expecting that she could disappear entirely from public view and no-one would ask any questions is ridiculous. They had at least two months to come up with any plan besides complete silence.

I never wanted them to discuss her medical issues but transparency would have helped. Don't treat people like idiots. They mishandled this, and there were a million ways to keep things private but not have things turn into a cluster. Prayers for Catherine.

in terms of prognosis...

"preventive" chemotherapy is a positive sign here

the fact that the surgeon did not recognize he was looking at a cancer tumor in the OR is a positive sign here

the fact that it required a complex biopsy (it took 5 weeks) for the pathology to find the cancer is a positive sign.

Having been through this recently with a spouse, what you’re saying sounds correct to me too.  She would have had the best of diagnostic tools, so that would have ruled out large masses.  The language also indicates that what they found was small.

whoever ran the PR definitely did it poorly. Part of the reason the mother's day photo blew into a bigger news event was all the major news agencies put out a kill notice on it. and they only did that because Kensington palace declined to share the unedited one when asked.

Chetwynd said news agencies asked Kensington Palace to provide the original photo, but they did not receive a reply. That’s when they decided to issue “kill notices,” something that is very rarely done.

but they didn’t stick to the timeline.. they decided to reveal a doctored image and then make Kate take the fall for it. even if she did edit the picture on her own just for fun, they didn’t have to put it on her alone? the whole thing was so odd.

They could have skipped the fake photo release. They could have reacted to the swell of interest by putting out a statement that there have been developments and they will communicate when they are ready. To pretend nothing happened since the Jan announcement is disingenuous and PR is about real time handling

[givemeanaccountalready]

A Who-Swung-It Mystery: The Case of the Switch-Hitter (1/3)

1 / 2 / 3

Despite the humorous title, I want to be serious for a second. I am not a licensed psychologist/psychiatrist/licensed social worker/etc., and I am certainly not an expert on dissociative identity disorder (DID). My knowledge of this disorder comes from the research I have done to try and understand it. I am trying to be as respectful as possible towards the subject matter, and I sincerely apologize if I show a lack of understanding and will do my best to correct it. I want to focus on switching, since we don't really have much information on Mikoto's childhood that led to him developing this disorder and I do not want to speculate. I only say childhood and not adulthood because the literature I found suggests that it is rather rare for this already rare disorder to form past the age of ten. Mikoto could be one of those special cases, but we'll have to wait and see.

Now, before you begin violently shaking me over the length of this post, just know that I am sorry about it. I want to argue that Mikoto’s DID is a red herring. Despite his claims otherwise, John did not directly kill anyone, Mikoto did. Through the voice dramas and the music videos, we get to see both Mikoto and John's individual perspectives and personalities. From what we've seen in MeMe and Double and then heard during John Doe and Neoplasm, I think I figured out what happened the night of the murder.

Fun fact before the post cut: in Japanese, the kanji for baseball are combine the kanji for field and ball (野球) and is read as ‘Kakyu’. The number nine in Japanese is read as ‘kyu’ or ‘ku’ and our baseball-loving prisoner, Mikoto, is prisoner number nine.

Okay, now you can begin violently shaking me.

Milgram's Very Own Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: Subverting the Evil Alter Trope

Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a tale that lives in infamy, and here in the West, it is synonymous with dual personalities. Published in 1886, the story is meant to be an allegory regarding good and evil. Pop culture osmosis usually has it right that Dr. Jekyll accidentally created Mr. Hyde in a lab accident, but here's the thing, it's more of a happy accident than a “Well, the risk I took was calculated but man, I’m bad at math,” one. Dr. Jekyll is a respectable, older gentleman who meant to erase his "shameful urges" (the story never explains what they are exactly, just that they go against the Victorian moral code) and accidentally created Mr. Hyde. As Mr. Hyde, Jekyll is a younger, shorter man whose only identifying feature is that everyone immediately hates him. That is not a joke. People who ran into Hyde can’t really describe him other than having the gut instinct to avoid him. But more importantly, I need you to know that Dr. Jekyll had spent most of the story voluntarily transforming himself into Mr. Hyde so he could give into those shameful urges and then used his wealth as Dr. Jekyll to sweep any trouble that arose back under the rug.

Besides being physically different, the main difference between Jekyll and Hyde is that Hyde lacks Jekyll's morals and inhibitions. Jekyll delights in the freedom he can experience as Hyde, until as Hyde, he beats a man to death with a cane. A few months before the murder, Jekyll had started to realize that he did not have as much control over Hyde as he previously thought and went two months without drinking the transformation tonic. As Jekyll puts it, in a moment of weakness, (yes, it reads like an allegory about substance abuse) Jekyll takes the tonic, transforms into Hyde, and since Hyde is pissed over being locked up for so long, he exercised his frustrations on a rich man's head.

Historically, the nineteenth century is when psychologists started arguing over the existence of multiple personalities, and the public back then was as fascinated with it as it is now. And I can't believe that we're nearing The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde's 150th anniversary, and the evil alternate personality trope is still going strong! I swear to you, it seems like DID is only ever brought up in conjunction with stories involving a murder(s), and the resolution is always, the evil alter committed it. I only know one example (Primal Fear (1996)) where the evil alter didn't do it, but that was because of the twist ending!

Besides wanting the novelty of the core having killed someone rather than the 'evil' alter, I think it would fit in with Milgram's dedication to emphasizing that each prisoner is an individual with their good points and bad. No one is 100% good, or bad, or anything else (Jackalope is 100% chaotic neutral, but he is a mythical creature, not a human, so shh). They have dominant traits that may influence their actions, but as in reality, things aren't black and white. It would make sense for Mikoto and John to reflect this. Mikoto is not 100% good and John is not 100% evil. They both have good and bad traits.

I think that the first trial shows it much better than the second, but Mikoto's main problem is how he constantly denies that anything is troubling him. Es calls him out on it explicitly during Neoplasm. Mikoto’s response is, “Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end,” explaining that the pretending helps him cope. It may not be the healthiest coping mechanism, but it is what he does. The most recent example of this not actually helping anyone is during Mikoto’s 2023 birthday timeline conversation. Mikoto questions himself to see if John really does exist and then he angrily blames John, only for John to front long enough to yell that he did it to save them. John disappears and Mikoto tells himself that that was useless, and that he’s tired and should stop thinking so hard about it. John has repeated quite a few times during Neoplasm and in that timeline conversation that he did it because Mikoto couldn’t handle it. The implication is that it is referring to the stress that built up and led to the murder. I agree with John that Mikoto’s decision to continue putting his head in the sand and to bottle up all his stress would have led to a breakdown. Everyone has a limit, and it is clear that Mikoto was rapidly approaching his. I don't disagree with that at all. What I disagree with is John's claim that he is solely responsible for the murder, because his existence does not make him purely evil and Mikoto's purely good. To think so is to play right into the black-and-white dichotomy of morality and play directly into Yamanaka's hands.

Despite his more sadistic tendencies, John does have some positive traits. We know he cares deeply for Mikoto and wants to protect him, even if his actions aren't acceptable. In Neoplasm, we’ve even heard John express some pride over being a college graduate, something Mikoto has previously downplayed when asked questions by Amane. We’ve seen in timeline conversations that Mikoto is capable of expressing annoyance and exasperation (with Fuuta) as well as anger (at John in the above timeline conversation). John can be cruel and aggressive, but he is active in asserting himself. Meanwhile, Mikoto is considerate to others to the point of his own detriment and is rather passive when it comes to conflict. Just because Mikoto seems to have more desirable character traits than John doesn’t make Mikoto incapable of committing a violent act.

Now, onto the murder, what could lead to Mikoto killing somebody?

"Communism was just a red herring." - Clue (1985)

I firmly believe that John is full of shit. Despite the number of destroyed mannequins, there is only one murder victim: the blond fellow we see at the beginning of MeMe. And just like in the cult classic, Clue (1985), I think the motive was blackmail.

Remember Mikoto's glitched line from the second voice trailer? "DESTROY EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!" I don't know if this is just an accepted fan theory or if it had been confirmed, but it is believed that the lines from the second voice trailer happen before the murder takes place. If it had taken place after the murder occurred, then everything would most likely reference the evidence of the murder. But this takes place before the murder happened. Sure, it could be John's need for one of those rage rooms, but if I'm being honest, I think it was blackmail that could have gotten Mikoto fired from his job. Despite the amount of stress his current job causes him, Mikoto has stated over and over again that he worked very hard to get into the best company in the advertising business, and in his Trial Two interrogation questions, he has stated that he will not leave his current job because he believes that his efforts will eventually be rewarded. Mikoto is fine with being uncomfortable if he believes it will lead to future benefit (AKA, no pain, no gain).

From what I understand about Japan's work culture, getting fired puts a black stain on your record and makes it extremely difficult to find a new job. Getting fired by a top-tier advertising agency isn't just losing his dream job, but possibly destroying any chance of Mikoto gaining any opportunity or prestige for the rest of his career. All his hard work will be for naught. There are plenty of real-world instances where someone lost their job or lost their college acceptance because of poor behavior on the individual's part. If the blond victim had evidence of Mikoto acting badly, regardless of whether it was Mikoto or John fronting, Mikoto's boss could fire him, ruining his chances of ever being rewarded for his hard work. People have certainly killed for less in the real world.

Personally, I lean towards the blackmail being something John did, although this comes from Mikoto's line from Undercover: "Don't lie about me / what did I do?" If Mikoto cannot remember anything from when John fronts and he is aware of his forgetful spells, then not only would Mikoto question whether the blackmail had been doctored but also he'd wonder if there is a hint of truth to it. Remember Mikoto's words to Fuuta, "You're a uni student, right? You can't act like that once you start working properly," as if the angry behavior from Fuuta is only normal until a certain age. Perhaps Mikoto took part in some bad behavior in the past. More likely than not, it’s John in the blackmail. T1Q11 answer states, "Yes, I am [someone who takes others into consideration]. I'm a working adult. Communicating makes work easier." It's almost ironic how his boss constantly texting him and inconsideration causes Mikoto problems, and because he is the new guy and subordinate, Mikoto can't exactly tell his boss to fuck off.

His T1Q10 answer better lays out his beef with Fuuta's behavior: "I don't think I've ever gotten angry before. Isn't it kind of disgraceful to get angry?" Now, Mikoto is a very go-along-to-get-along kind of guy and Fuuta is not. He could be telling the truth that he has never gone into a blind rage (that Mikoto remembers), but to say he has never felt anger is most likely a lie.

Here is how I think the murder went down. At the beginning of MeMe, we see Mikoto waiting in a dark, secluded area near the train tracks. His hair is mostly covered by the beanie and we cannot make out his expression whatsoever, so there is no clue to tell us who is fronting between Mikoto and John. Mikoto does not appear to have a bat on his person or around him, and it seems like he is holding his phone. The blond victim could have just been a stranger walking by, but I think that he was an old friend of Mikoto's from high school or college and was supposed to meet with him. As peers who are supposed to be working adults, Mikoto is under the impression that whatever this is, they can just talk it out. This is all just one big misunderstanding.

Maybe the blond victim even brought the bat for an intimidation factor. Maybe Mikoto brought it just in case. I lean towards the former because you would notice misplacing your own baseball bat (they can get really expensive) is hard to not notice, and the whole thing is easier to deny if you don't even own the murder weapon in the first place. Whatever the case, the blond reveals his blackmail and demands payment or else it's getting sent to Mikoto's boss. Mikoto sees nothing but red, screams at his old friend to destroy all of the blackmail, take the bat, and then swings. The first blow hits the victim's lower back, just like how it hit Es in Undercover, and it is enough to render the victim's legs useless, forcing him to try and crawl away rather than run. Mikoto raises the bat well over his head and brings it down again, killing the victim.

With no one around but his now deceased victim, the red haze lifts and Mikoto realizes what he just did, prompting the first trial glitched line, which is believed to take place after the murder, "My life... it wasn't supposed to be this way." The heartbreak is too much to bear. John takes over and is the one to bury the body, dispose of the evidence, and clean Mikoto up. When Mikoto wakes up the next day, he can disregard it as a bad dream: "All I did was dream / And that's what you found GUILTY?"

Pretty words, but empty ones, I know. Where's my proof? I'm glad you asked. :)

Switch-Hitting

Let's start out with the murder weapon: the baseball bat.

In baseball, a switch-hitter is someone who can bat left- and right-handed. Switch-hitters are prized by coaches, because batters have a higher chance of hitting the ball when they swing opposite of the pitcher; meaning a left-handed batter has a better chance of hitting a ball thrown by a right-handed pitcher than the right-handed batter against that same pitcher. There can be switch-pitchers (someone who can throw left- and right-handed), but because Mikoto's murder weapon seems to be the baseball bat, I'm going to focus on the way he swings the bat. As previously stated, during the third chorus of Undercover, we see Mikoto's silhouette bludgeon Es with a baseball bat.

Now, it has been a while since I've played baseball and softball, but I do still own a bat and I believe that that is a left-handed swing. A left-handed batter would have their left hand positioned above the right hand and the bat would have been held over their left shoulder. When they swing, they step in and turn towards their right to complete the swing. That is what Mikoto is doing in this picture. I tried to mimic the swing, but I am a right handed batter, so it feels awkward when I do it. Right-handed batters are more common that left-handed hitters, and in Double, we see Mikoto/John bat both ways, making him a switch-hitter. In the US, a switch-hitter has to pick one side to hit from during the time he is at bat, meaning that say he batted right, then swung and missed twice (two strikes, one more and he's out), he can’t switch to bat left. He can switch to bat left the next time he is up at bat, but he cannot switch positions once he steps up to the plate. I can’t find much on Japan’s rules about switch-hitting, but there’s a ton of articles about a high school player who kept switching positions for every pitch during the same at bat (pissing off the Americans in the comments section). Now, I can’t speak for professional baseball in Japan, but I guess switching positions during the same at bat is allowed at the level Mikoto played (high school). I do feel confident in stating that the Mikoto featured in Undercover has a left-handed swing. But Gimme, what does that have to do with switch-hitting? Switch-hitting involves batting both ways.

If you continue to closely watch the opening of MeMe, while Mikoto holds the bat in his left hand, but when he readies himself for the overhead swing, Mikoto has his right hand over his left, something a right-handed batter would do. I actually made a list of when we see Mikoto swing the bat, and it seems that when Mikoto swings the bat normally (like how he would in a game), he usually bats left-handed. I could only find one instance of Mikoto holding the bat right-handed as though he were up to bat.

Left-Handed Batting:

at 3:04 in Undercover

at 0:30 in MeMe

at 0:58 in Double

at 1:29 in Double

Right-Handed Batting:

at 1:26 in Double

Buuuut, when we see Mikoto swing the bat abnormally, he uses his right hand to guide the swing as if he were batting right-handed. His right hand is above his left (which is normal positioning for a right-handed swing) when he does the overhead swing in MeMe at 0:37, and when he swings the bat one handed during Double, it is with his right-hand.

Your dominant hand isn't what determines your batting stance. Generally, it's a good indicator, but it's not set in stone thanks to cross-handedness. Cross-handedness is when you use your dominant hand for certain activities and your non-dominant hand for others. But if it matters, Mikoto is right-handed. Most of his actions in both songs involve his right-hand. If you watch MeMe, the only time Mikoto uses his left hand is to move the camera at the beginning and end of the song, and then to pick up the Death tarot card at the very end of the song. In Double, the only time he uses his left hand is when he swings the bat. Also, his shoulder bag is on his left shoulder in both MeMe and Double, and generally, purses and shoulder bags rests on your non-dominant side to give your dominant hand easy access.

Like I said, Mikoto being right-handed doesn't necessarily translate to him batting right-handed. Now, I'm no baseball expert, but I don't think his left-handed swings are all that good. They look 'jerky' to me. We don't see Mikoto complete a right-handed swing; we only see him hold the bat as if he is waiting for a pitch and the positioning seems natural. And there is something that I want to point out. You can train yourself to become a switch-hitter. I am not kidding when I say that switch-hitters are coveted. I think it would be in-character of Mikoto to naturally bat right-handed but try to teach himself how to bat left-handed so that he can become a switch-hitter. He is someone who knows what they want and creates a ten-step plan to get it, (see his "I wanted this job so I chose this art college with this degree"). He also believes in hard work being rewarded, so if he successfully trains himself to become a switch-hitter, his coach will reward him with more playing time (in this case, move him up the batting list). Mikoto is also self-effacing, so when he puts himself down, it needs to be questioned. Are his claims about not being good at baseball an example of his low self-esteem affects his perception of himself, or was he just plain bad because he was batting from the wrong side? He could just plain suck at baseball, but his abnormal, right-handed swings are smooth and controlled. It makes me think he bats right naturally, and that his left-handed swings are him practicing to get better at switch-hitting.

Unlike Mikoto, John is not patient. He would not bother with a swing he is not comfortable with. We saw that in John Doe as they are quick to taunt Es and lash out at them and Kotoko. John did not try to retreat and figure out a strategy to best Kotoko, an experienced fighter, he just went for it. I can only assume he wised up during his fight with Kotoko and that's why she couldn't knock him out a second time. This impulsive, fiery temper reappears in Neoplasm, when John mock Es for chaining Mikoto and for the name they gave him, and then as Es stalls during John's prodding of what will happen to Mikoto, John begins shouting at Es to answer him. I would probably split the two this way: while Mikoto is proactive with his willingness to think ahead and shortchange himself for the chance of being rewarded in the future, John is reactive and his impulsiveness leads to short-term thinking that can screw over Mikoto.

Here's Mikoto in Neoplasm: "I wonder if it's like... some kind of sleepwalking...? After all, I've been losing sleep more and more often recently... Man... It's really troublesome, isn't it?...Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end, right? I'm pretty good at that. Making things work out to the best of my abilities." At this point, he can no longer deny that nothing is wrong, and Mikoto is now forced to seriously consider just what is going on when he has these forgetful spells and falls asleep. Something is wrong, and he is trying to follow his usual protocol of smiling and quietly figuring out how to make things turn out for the best. Except it is not working in Milgram, triggering John's appearance in Neoplasm.

John is surprised by Es's acceptance of the situation, and even says, "I'd just think it's a lie someone came up with to get away with murder." As he and Es continue to talk, John asks Es why they think he was born and confirms that his role is to protect Mikoto from harm. Es is the one to bring up the murder, and suddenly, the chatty John is giving short, vague responses, reiterating that he is the murderer, not Mikoto. Here's some of it, "Yeah, it's me. I killed them off... They annoyed me [so I killed them]... Just someone [a stranger] who was walking around nearby... Can't remember [how many I killed]." When Es demands to know how John can be so calm, John changes the subject to find out what will happen to Mikoto. When Es cannot give him a satisfactory answer, John repeats again and again that Mikoto is innocent and that he, John, is at fault, so please forgive Mikoto. I think John would admit to every wrongdoing of Mikoto's if that meant Mikoto's burden would be lifted. It's why I don't trust him. Not only is his confession too vague to be considered admissible, but as Mikoto’s protector, he also has a reason to take the fall. John is not an evil alter, but he is taking advantage of the trope to get Mikoto the Innocent verdict. An Innocent verdict, in John’s mind, will erase most of Mikoto’s current stress. It is too short term, and relies to heavily on Mikoto’s habit of denial. If Mikoto is found Innocent, there is a chance that he may continue to pull his head out of the sand to figure out what is going on so he can learn how to manage or suppress it so his everyday life won't be impacted.

Oh, and one more thing before I end this first part.

That Wasn't Mikoto at the End of Neoplasm, which is why Double differs from MeMe.

John is playing up the idea that he is an evil alter to get Mikoto out of trouble, and the weird behavior shown by 'Mikoto' at the end of Neoplasm is just John attempting to manipulate us. Do you guys remember at the end of John Doe when Mikoto is back in control and is confused and then horrified as to why he’s hurting and why Es is now covered in bruises? From what I’ve read, that confusion is a common sign of personalities having been switched, and so is the memory loss he has experienced. Now compare that to the end of Neoplasm, when John ‘leaves’ and Mikoto comes back and immediately starts guessing what kind of dog Es owns? And how weird that is because Mikoto had started the interview clearly worried over what is going on with him when he is ‘asleep’? I don’t think Mikoto actually came back. I think that that’s John taking advantage of Es being startled by the bell and pretending to be Mikoto and trying to emphasize how harmless Mikoto. Mikoto is just a little guy. How can someone so friendly be a monster?

1 / 2 / 3

[colorisbyshe]

I have no love for the royal family, not even for Kate, but... genuinely entitlement for stranger's lives has never been more deranged.

Especially when the public was ALREADY TOLD she was getting medical treatment and that it would last til Easter (which we haven't hit yet), it was weird to pretend it was a massive mystery?

"Oh, the royal family should've handled this better," okay but maybe people should've been less weird about someone else's health? I witnessed people speculating about hysterectomies, miscarriages, and other intensely personal things.

"Why didn't they announce it earlier?" Even the worst people on Earth deserve time to process their illness?? NO ONE owes you their medical diagnoses outside of like... idk the fucking President. Her kids deserve time without their classmates commenting on it.

Everyone should be given time to process medical news and YES take time off!! Even public figures! I WISH the average person could be allowed to just stay home for months after awful news while recovering from surgery.

IF you're told someone is sick, just... believe them and then don't feel owed details??

[allaboutlouferrignojr]

I love you page!! I think Lou is such a fun guy but I feel like he can towards inwards sometimes? But a loyal family man to his mother and sister! Especially now we a lot of eyes on him. Has he done any recent podcasts this year or last (since he was on outerbanks)

I saw a previous question you received and asking about his private life. I’ve seen some recent Reddit theories trying to figure out his sexuality. I know in older Interviews he’s mentioned women but in an Easter (maybe another holiday) video from a few years ago he is cooking shirtless and someone says in the background the women and men will like this. I’m not trying to Speculate on it just something I saw on Reddit 911 threads. I just hope if he is dating someone I hope he is happy! He deserves it!

I don't personally dig into celebrities personal lives. That might sound hypocritical seeing as I run this page but I only share things that are shared publicly by Lou or production companies.

I know he's done a couple (?) interviews for Outer Banks, and he did Access Daily for 911 with Oliver Stark.

They did say that comment in the cooking video but Lou is a beautiful man so I'm not surprised both men and women find him attractive.

So far, everything I've seen comes off as he's only into women, but considering how his father is, he might not want his personal life public. Whether that's his sexuality or a significant other. Regardless, I also hope he's happy.

(I haven't really dived in to many interviews yet. Please be patient)

[rhythmic-idealist]

Everytime I start to think "maybe BNHA wasn't *that bad*, maybe I could bring it back in and let it just coexist with whatever interests I have nowadays" I just look at your blog and get a snap back to reality🙏

(SORRY THIS IS LONG. Oh my god. My bad. Yw, though)

This is so interesting. I adore BNHA, and the post that people are tagging "BNHA critical" lately was.... intended not to be read as "BNHA uncritically believes this thing" but instead as "BNHA constructs a society that it specifically exposes for this bad thing."

I really will never agree with decisions made with the end of the manga. [I'm about to do manga spoilers. I figured this was okay since you aren't coming back, but you can stop here if you'd rather.]

Tenko should have lived. Himiko should have lived. Touya DESERVED to live, although I find myself less burned by his specific tragedy & it seems handled with the most appropriate context and care.

Like. I've analyzed it, and I'll continue to. I get the feeling even Horikoshi may be uneasy with it, although I'll never know for certain obviously and I always feel strange speculating about that stuff. But I don't think the ending was good.

BNHA started conversations in public spaces for me and gave me specific characters and concepts in ways that I will never begrudge it, and for that I find myself really just unbelievably lucky. Lucky in the ways I find myself able to continue to engage, in the fact that its ending has managed not to taint the rest of it. There still exists in my mind a very real "BNHA before the ending was written" as its own piece of art that existed for a period of time and that I'm not really done talking about. BNHA has made me want to write a novel with more of a strong pull to action than anything has for a long time.

But—while I love Tenko, and love Himiko—my favorite characters are Tenya and Hikage. Tenya's ending is imperfect, but oh my god, it's barely imperfect. Hikage's ending is imperfect for Tenko, but for HIMSELF? I have no notes. Missed opportunities, but no complaints, no notes. Oh my god Hikage fans are the luckiest people in this goddamn fandom.

And so my heart winds up insulated. I experience the letdown of the manga's end but I think that myself having other CENTERS to my BNHA experience probably has a lot to do with why it was able to deeply disappoint me without hurting me or changing itself so drastically, in the way that it has alienated so many other fans.

I really do love BNHA as a piece of art. I believe it is a good piece of art.

Growing up my favorite book was The Two Princesses of Bamarre, and I hated the final chapter with a burning passion. The feelings were significantly more intense than my BNHA ending feelings somehow, although being a tween/teen may have had something to do with that. It was still my favorite book.

I love.... so much about how BNHA opens conversations about transformative justice. I love that it's a story about how parents cannot be abandoned to protect their chid from the world alone if the child is under constant fire, and how sometimes the fire is coming from inside the house, and it is everyone's obligation to meddle even when social rules say otherwise. I have sat in Discord servers having long conversations with people who NEEDED to be asked If heroes "save people," was Jin a person?

BNHA falls short of writing an ending that imagines the world where we actually all become the hero who saves everyone, but the fact that it speaks to a fandom that is so often lagging so far behind that concept on even a basic level—that Izuku provides a conversation space for me to even tell people no he says his goal is to save everyone. Everyone. Everyone. His goal is to save everyone. "Does [x] deserve to live" I have a question. is that person one of Everyone? Then Yes, Deku Is About Saving That Person. Whether he achieves it or not, that's what the concept of Deku is for. It is for trying.

(There's a lot that I disagree with about how Izuku's ending was written too. To speculate, and I'm not the first to say this, much of the ending feels like it was.... following a plan that was made years and years ago, even when it didn't fit anymore.)

I think it was trying to do something with the idea that Tenko and Himiko were tragedies. It feels vaguely like it was trying to do something with their lack of privilege, and like it was trying to do something with characters who deserved to live but were so successfully isolated by mainstream society that their survival, unlike All Might's and Izuku's, wasn't "possible." (When the world prayed for All Might, when Ochako yelled at the civilians to buck up and take on some of Izuku's burden- Tenko and Himiko don't have that.) The strategy heroes use to kill the villains is called Divide And Conquer, and this series is about how no one can manage without Those Who Match Their Pace And Run Alongside Them. And how even with a few people like that... that's only a stopgap, and the broader context they exist in MUST change.

It imagines more than thousands of its more mainstream fanbase are willing to. I think it is something deeply important for that. I think that as a piece of political art (all art is political) it WILL ultimately matter that

But I feel that it forgot that some of its audience relates more to the Tenkos and Himikos to anyone else, and that it managed to deeply betray that audience after building so much hope.

Anyway. It's a work that wounds a lot of people for extremely legitimate reasons. Also there is sexism and some such etc in it. I'm quite glad that if you won't have fun here I manage to remind you to stay away, ahfjdisgin.

I am.... a little sore lately abt that post of mine circulating with the tag "BNHA critical"—not because of the tag itself, but because it shows me several people seriously believing a post I made about "look at this cool flaw BNHA points out in its own society" means "wow, fucked up that Horikoshi EARNESTLY BELIEVES this," and that the misread is so consistent it's likely a problem with my phrasing—and so whenever I post about it now I always want to make my OWN feelings very clear. I hope this does not feel that it was at all in argument with you?

I am VERY glad we enjoy our various different fandoms in our own different corners. And that my portrayal of BNHA is honest enough to remind you that you wouldn't have a good time getting in here with me!

.....The other option for why I'm receiving this ask is that you just...... REALLY don't like local hermit Hikage Shinomori. In which case. There are so many people in BNHA-historical-era Japan who have that in common with you ahjfdsingkd <333333

[thedeviljudges]

hey

do you think that yohan and gaon will reunite again? Do you think it will be a post-canon happy ending?

this show has me in a chokehold and kang yohan is my comfort character

hi there! so i don't even have to speculate whether they would. writer moon himself has said they would end up working together again!!

Asked if he plans to write season 2, writer Moon Yoo-seok said, "If many people love 'Devil Judge', we can make a follow-up season." If such an opportunity arises, it will be fun to solve it in a more cheerful live tone like "Sherlock" and "Lupin" this time, he said. article here

and it's mentioned in this article, too:

Kang Yohan escaped from the Supreme Court through the escape route prepared in advance and went to Switzerland with Elijah, and he boldly appeared at the Judicial Reform Public Hearing Hall to see if Gaon was doing well. It’s not the end of Gaon’s fantasy, but there are viewers who misunderstand that. I would like to take this opportunity to tell you, but Yohan is doing well with Elijah, and we will see him again soon with Gaon. The world doesn’t change that easily. article here.

however, i have broken down my thoughts here and written a whole post about why the ending isn't sad with screencaps and me rambling about why they're not going to be able to stay away from each other if you'd like to read my thoughts outside of these articles.

i don't think the devil judge was ever meant to be a sad story for yohan and gaon. i think the ending opens up so much hope and possibility. i think what is sometimes failed to be recognized is that yohan and gaon really do need time away from each other after the events of the show. they need to heal and figure out who they are. what they both went through was traumatic.

and the great thing about it is yohan physically reminding gaon that he will always be there when he needs him. a temporary situation doesn't mean forever. they have each other's support, and yohan will go the distance for gaon.

tbh i don't think they could stay away from each other if they tried. gaon did, and he was so miserable. yohan was literally so sad when gaon left; we don't often see him that affected by things aside from isaac and elijah.

and lastly, my brain just refuses to accept it's a sad ending. one of the points of the devil judge is about hope. why end it with none?

[alarrytale]

There’s like a difference between shipping real people (making art, edits, etc.) and just thinking two actors are cute together and posting about it and even speculating and most people criticizing the former know the distinction. There’s not a lot of fic for hetero couples, there’s actually far more X reader het stuff. I don’t agree with the pov that rpf immoral or bad (within boundaries) and I think that the latter is a bit more problematic but I think it’s important to make this distinction if we wanna have an honest discussion.

Hi, anon!

I'm not sure what you mean? You mean make a distinction between fictional characters played by actors and shipping real people? So shipping Nick and TZP is okay, because they played fictional love interests, but it's more problematic to ship two F1 drivers or two football players on the same team?

I don't understand why there should be a difference when both examples are two real men who are not in a relationship, being shipped. It's very bizzare if people are only allowed to ship people who Hollywood have fictionally paired together already. So shipping TZP with Michael Lopez isn't as okay to ship, but Matt Bomer and J. Bailey is allowed. I think that's bullshit tbh.

There are no rules of shipping. It's fictional and not real. It's people living out their own fantasies, while knowing it's fictional. Shipping often happens when fans notice two people get on, have great chemistry or friendship, or if they don't get on at all. If people want to ship hobama or tomlinshaw, they can. If people want to ship Trudeu/Macron, they can. Ship and let ship. It's fictional.

The issue only arises when people start to think they're actually together (they might be, but don't want attention on it) or if someone is not out and don't want to have focus on their sexuality by being same-sex shipped, or when one or both of a pair is homophobic. Shipping doesn’t ruin friendships and it doesn’t invalidate the pair who's being shipped's real romantic and sexual relationships. Michelle Obama isn't lying awake because of people shipping hobama. Louis doesn’t give a rats ass about hay*ors.

I don't think there should be a distinction tbh. Let people ship what they want. If you're a public figure, it comes with the territory. Take it as a compliment and enjoy the attention.

[davishater]

Random things I noticed in chapter 108:

1) Ok, so putting my Hutter and Chelsea ship off to the side for only one post, I really enjoy Hutter's reaction to her death for many reasons (mainly the ship reasons).

For comparison, let me explain that, when Hutter first discovers Yudi's death, he just screams her name and looks shocked, maybe with a little bit of fear. Alyssa actually goes and faints from finding Yudi.

When everyone finds Chelsea is dead, Hutter is looking MORTIFIED. Then he falls to his knees, screaming and blaming himself. These reactions just really show who cared a lot about each person and I love that so much!

2) Night is honestly such a respectable king for this!

Hutter's like, bro you look excited and Night's just over here apologizing for it! And it's so sincere, too! I was expecting him to be like, "Well duh, we got an interesting case on our hands." Like a snooty rich brat, but no, he actually apologizes for how his excitement looks! This shows that Night fully understands that Hutter is upset and is willing to take how he feels into consideration (Also, they keep being shown together and I enjoy that. I feel like they would have a really good friend dynamic, if they don't already).

3) ok, so hitch hiking to the other side of London, we got Winter and Spitz together. Not gonna lie, I really love seeing them interact, but I HATE how worthless Spitz is right now. Winter could seriously do so much all on his own without anyone's help. I mean, he found Spitz all by himself! There's almost 9 million people who live in London and Winter found him uncoincidentally! He was on the right track, too! If Ron and Toto aren't with Spitz, then he can use Spitz to track down the other two. Too bad Spitz can't even do that right 🙄 (Guys, I'm sorry, I've had a love/hate relationship with Spitz throughout the entire series).

3.5) I know this panel isn't in chapter 108, but I just imagine Winter saying the "How carefree..." part with literally no emotion and in the context of mocking and I love it so much, like I literally can't get enough of that one line replaying in my head!!! Also, is it just me, or do these lines seem very proper and.... idk, like Winter is honestly trying to be nice??? Winter seemed to stay in that kind of manner until Spitz gave him attitude and said, "you're in the Moriarty family!" and he replied with "Don't look down on me."

Idk, maybe I'm just speculating too much.

4) I love how Winter finally gave us the name of his brothers! And like, why is he just sharing this information with Spitz? It seems kind of random, but at the same time, not. Almost like he's unconsciously reminiscing about his family. 🤔

He and Spitz also say they're all Milo's siblings, not Winter's. Like, it really gives that affect that he really did leave the Moriarty family and I think that's kinda cool.

5) WAIT A DIGIDY DARN SECOND!!!!! Winter looks down a lot whenever he talks about his family.... 👀👀👀👀👀 (I'd show, but I'm at a picture limit)

6) ok, I just had to show this one last, cause it's the funniest one and it took me almost 10 hours to realize.

Spitz literally just helped Winter commit a crime!!! Winter impersonated an important public figure right in front of a police officer and Spitz didn't even rat Winter out! Yo, Spitz is an accomplish and he's just chillin'!!! 😂😂😂😂😂

Masterlist

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

You think jimin will ever date a girl, like seriously date and think of marrying a girl? I think jm is bisexual it was quite clear from his album and ME photoshoot. But he's more inclined towards guys....so hopefully he'll fall in love with a nice girl and end up marrying her, I mean that's the easy thing or society approved thing, more so since he's a public figure....I wonder how things will be if he ever married a guy....

I also think Jimin is heavily inclined towards men. I'm bi and I've usually never had any problem telling who's bisexual but with Jimin it's always been confusing for me because I see so much preference for men. It's hard to explain. I was actually writing something about sexuality but it's still in drafts.

I don't know.. it's different for every person. Nobody wants to live a difficult, sad life. We all want to be happy and we don't want to struggle to reach that happiness. I've thought a lot and even though in my country gay marriage is legal, and adoption is legal too, I still believe the easiest thing would just be to settle down with a man if I ever decide I want to have children. Most bisexual women even in Hollywood and whatnot end up with men. And most bisexual men end up with women. At the same time, it's hard to imagine a life where I don't get to be with women. Anyways, in the end you can't choose who you fall in love with, or if that person will fall for you too. If it happens to be someone of the same gender and I have to do the most convoluted things to get children, then so be it.

I don't see Jimin settling down lol, if it happens I believe it will be wayyy down the line like maybe when he's reaching 40. If it's a man, I don't think we'll ever know. Unless there's some suspicious situation where he's constantly seen walking around with the same guy or something, but apart from that, because of who Jimin is, I doubt he'd be making public announcements about his personal life, much less if it's a gay relationship. But I don't think he'd go the extra mile and make his own life miserable to try to conceal it, either. He'd just live a regular life, but without making any statements. It could be announced if it's a woman because if they get married it'll make the news and we will definitely know about it.

(Any speculation about stuff like this is kind of useless tho and mostly just for fun. It's not really to be taken seriously because it's something really personal to each individual and it could even change overtime.)