#and idk I do think there's something to be said for not covering up errors in old work

[bunbun-mochi]

Queen of Onychinus II

Sylus x MC

Fluff and Smut (MDNI!!!!)

Warning: cursing, strangling, Sylus and MC making babies, idk (don't hesitate to comment/message me if there needed more warnings.)

Word Count: 2505

Preview: Sylus needed to leave N109 zone for a few days for business. His beloved wife(MC) insisted she take care of N109 zone, which Sylus hesitantly agreed to, but with one of many conditions: "Give me a list of anyone you want to get rid of. Let there be a clear message that anyone messes with my wife, messes with me."

Writers note: Forgive me for any errors, I was busy fangirling about Sylus.

Strings of filthy sounds came out of my mouth and my lower half as my husband's hip gently bumped into mine. Filling me in every place unimaginable. Wet kisses trail along my neck and chest before gently covering my lips.

"You're so beautiful, sweetie," Gods, his voice itself can let me come undone, so deep and sexy. I can only moan in response. I cannot imagine what I would be like in front of a mirror, feeling intoxicated with his touches.

Gentle kisses and gentle hands touched every single inch of me, giving love to every piece of me. Tears rolled down my face from the overstimulation as Sylus kissed them away.

I felt my whole body shake. Rounds after round, hour after hour, and before we knew it, the crimson moon rose high in the sky.

I leaned back onto Sylus chest in the bathtub, feeling satisfied from the heat of the water and the scented smell from the soap. Sylus gently massage my thighs while giving kisses along my face and neck. I giggled, "We went through so many rounds and you still haven't had enough?"

Sylus groaned, "I never get enough of you. Even if you give me an entire week, I would still beg for more."

I turned back and faced him, giving him a small peck on the mouth. "I love you."

"I know," Sylus said before kissing me deeply. I felt his hands slither between my legs.

I gasped, breaking off the kiss, "Sylus." I warned.

Sylus chucked, "Relax, darling, I'm just cleaning you."

"Cleaning? I know you have a different intention-" I felt his fingers brush between my thighs. Instinctively, I closed my thighs, still feeling the aftermath of the overstimulation several minute prior on the bed. "Sylus..."

Sylus trailed kisses along my neck as he continued to stimulate me. Although tired, my body continued to betray me, begging him to continue. Before I knew it, we went for another few rounds in the bathroom.

"You are... you're a monster..." I felt my soul ascending to heaven as my body already went through several times prior before coming back from the high.

Sylus chucked, "Sorry, darling, you were too tempting."

I pouted, "Lame excuse!"

Sylus, already dressed in a suit, sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in for a kiss, which I gladly gave.

"When will you be back?" I asked between kisses.

Sylus gave me a final peck before answering, "About 4 days. Don't miss me too much."

"Too late, I already miss you. What about N109 zone?"

Sylus stood up and draped his outwear over his shoulders, "I'm sure it'll live while I'm gone for a few days."

"Yea, but everytime that happens, you end up having a mountain of work to do once you get back." I pouted, "Then you won't be able to spend time with me once you get back. Maybe I should threaten and kill anyone who gives you extra work."

Sylus chucked, "That would be great. I'm sorry, dear, I'll try to get things done as soon as I can so I won't leave my wife alone for too long."

I folded my arms and shook my head, "I don't like this."

"What would you suggest then?"

"Let me do your business here in N109 zone. I'll do the meeting that you decide to do after you come back. That way, you can come home to me first once you get back and not that stupid meeting."

Sylus shook his head, "Absolutely not. If the meeting gone wrong, bad things can happen to you. I absolutely hate the idea of something happening to you while I'm not there."

"I don't think it will be that bad. Besides, I'm not weak. I just don't have a strong evol as yours, but I'm capable of fighting. Worst case scenario, I come out with scratches. Also, my luck always had been better than yours."

Sylus scowled, his voice serious, "Sweetie, I still do not believe it is a good idea."

This time, it is me who scowled, "Honestly, what kind of husband goes to a meeting after their business overseas and not see his wife first? How come those bastards get to see you first instead of me? Unfair and cruel."

Sylus sighed deeply and massaged his temples, "Sweetie..."

"How about this, I bring Luke and Kierra with me. I will not let my emotions get the better of me and won't start any fights at all in the meeting."

Sylus opened his mouth, as if adding something before I cut him off. "And, I have to report to you every 12 hours."

"Make it every hour," Sylus negotiated.

"6 hours."

"2 hours."

"4 hours! I can't keep calling and messaging you! It'll get in the way of your work!"

"Fine, 4 hours." Sylus finally agreed. "However..."

I inwardly groaned. Another request? This man is so demanding!

"I want you to keep a list of all the names that you want me to deal with once I get back. You can't start a fight, but I can end it."

"Fine."

"Good girl." Sylus kissed me on the forehead. "I'll see you in 4 days, love."

I stare out the window, grasping every hope that Sylus would appear. Wishing his car would appear in the distance, speeding through traffic to get home. Wishing he would rush toward the door, hug me, kiss me, and apologize to me for how late he was. However, I knew this wouldn't happen. It has already been 5 years... Did he forget all about me? Of all the things we been through? All the love I had given him? Did he find a better woman...

"Boss only left for 5 hours, why do you look like he died?" Kieran asked.

"Yea, your face is like he died and cheated on you at the same time." Luke added.

The twins completely ruining my "reminiscent". Tsk.

"You should report to him how upset I am. Maybe that will make him second think about leaving me for those meetings." I huffed.

"I'm sure boss wouldn't want to leave either," Luke said, clearly trying to cheer me up.

I sighed, "Yea, I know." I stood up from the chair and stretched. "When is the meeting?"

"I messaged all the members for the meeting and the earliest they can do is the day after tomorrow," Luke answered.

I nodded, "good, that'll allow me to prepare."

I spent the days before the meeting preparing, choosing outfits, and weapons, and reporting to Sylus. And by reporting to Sylus, I mean sexting.

The meeting was not the way I wanted to go. Those "aristocrates" are like parasites. As soon as you're vulnerable, they attack. Quite disgusting if you ask me.

At the meeting, they were expecting Sylus. The room was cold and silent as if they were expecting death. But once I walked through the door, the atmosphere changed immediately. There was confusion for a few minutes before every single one of them looked at me like I was their prey.

I love it. I love appearing weak in their eyes before I show my fangs. I love the reactions they make when they realize the mistake they have made.

However, this meeting is especially hard as I am expected to sit still and prevent any fights. I promised Sylus so I cannot break this promise. If I do, I know he will not let me go to any meetings. And I know he will feel the pain more than me. I don't want him to go through those emotions.

I walked into the dimly lit room, my high heels clicked loudly on the marble floor. Luke walked ahead of me toward the head of the table and pulled out the giant chair. I sat down and Luke pushed the chair in. I crossed my legs, leaned forward, and interlocked my fingers, trying to look as confident as I could.

After a few minutes of silence, I scowled, "What? Am I supposed to start the conversation?"

I heard some clearing their throat and some huffed, as if they can't believe my arrogance.

"I suggest we change this meeting," One stood up.

"I suggest we start now," I countered.

"I believe Mr. Sylus would have a better grasp of this situation."

I leaned back onto the chair and crossed my arms, "How so?"

"I believe that Mr. Sylus, as a leader himself, should be at this meeting."

"I am his wife, I should be in second in command. We are starting this meeting now. If we do not start today, the next meeting will be next month and all the requests you have today will be moved toward next month. I am sure you would like your request heard as soon as possible."

They looked at each other, whispering to each other. Sylus was right. This meeting is truly boring. All those people are trying to be the best actor and fool the leader on who to believe. I have to admit, finding the traitor among those are hard. I know full well majority of them will turn their backs as soon Sylus become weak.

Suddenly, a loud slam on the table, causing the table to shook. A large man stood up rapidly, making his chair topple backward. "This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this meeting today of all days? It was originally meant to be in two days, why do we have to come now just to talk to this woman!"

"I would suggest you to be careful of what you say," Luke said cautiously.

"Damn this. Damn this woman. His wife? We know this is bullshit. That man don't look at one woman and then decide her to be his wife. A woman shouldn't even be here in the first place." He said, jabbing his finger toward me.

"Where should I be then?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"The fucking kitchen, you wrench." Ah, the typical answer for misogynist boys who believe they are men.

"Mr. Aglio, you apologize this instant! You do not have the power to speak ill-" Luke started.

Aglio slammed his fist on the table again. "This is ridiculous. Just because she is his wife today, does not make her in power. What kind of joke is this?"

Aglio aggregated nearly everyone in the meeting. Many sided with him, while others stood silent, watching how the situation unfolds. Those who sided with Aglio yelled vulgar words, making the atmosphere incredibly tense.

I was scared. Not of them. I was scared that a fight would break off. I don't want to break my promise with Sylus. Not when he already trusted me with this. I sat there, racking my brain to try to calm this situation down.

"Enough." I said loudly. My voice boomed and echoed through the meeting room. The room immediately turned silent. "I suggest we continue this meeting and I will report to Sylus immediately. That way, we won't waste any more time."

Many nodded their head in agreement, but not Aglio. He huffed sarcastically, "you think Mr. Sylus would listen to you? You're just a slut-"

Suddenly, the room became suffocating. Many of them are grabbing onto their necks, trying to relieve themselves from an invisible force grabbing onto their necks. The room was silent except the sounds of those aristocrats suffocating and the clicks of the shoes hitting the floor, walking toward the room.

Click... click... click...

I immediately knew those walk pattern belong to. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as the door slowly opens, allowing more lights to shine into the meeting room. Red mists were around those aristocrat's neck, squeezing tightly.

"What did I just hear?" Loud deep voice boomed through the room. Please repeat what you just said, to me."

"Sylus, dear, you are too tight around their necks, they can't speak," I said, nonchalantly, even though my heart is beating fast and my mind screaming.

"You're right," Sylus lighten his mist, just enough for them to speak.

"We just wanted to... have this meeting... with you...." Aglio gasped.

"What's wrong with the meeting with my wife?"

"N-nothing! Nothing at all!" Aglio coughed. "I just thought it would be... better with you, Mr. Sylus."

"Nothing wrong with my wife. So, when I heard those disgusting words that were describing my wife, I must've heard it wrong. Is that right, Luke?"

Luke shook his head, "No, boss. They did in fact called madam many vulgar words."

I felt anger surged from Sylus and he tighten his mist around Aglio. Aglio can only whimper in response.

"You got nerves, I give you that." Sylus said before slamming Aglio out the window, dangling him from 70th floor by the foot. A single movement from the mist will result in Aglio falling to his death.

Sylus slow walked around the table, looking down the aristocrats. While everyone is fearing for their life, I felt heat pooling between my legs. The way Sylus walked around was very sexy. His long legs strides forward, his eyes stern and dark. If I weren't sitting down, I would've clearly fainted.

Sylus stopped at the other end of the table. He looked straight at me, "Give me a list of anyone you want to get rid of. Let there be a clear message that anyone messes with my wife, messes with me."

"First, bring Aglio back in here."

Sylus immediately brough Aglio back into the room without questions, as if he is listening to every order I say.

"Second, I would like those who called me... those lovely words to kneel in this room for three days. Those who kept their mouth shut live for another day."

When no one moved, Sylus narrowed his eyes, "Should I teach you how to kneel?"

Immediately, those who bad-mouthed me kneeled down, with their heads on the ground.

I smirked at their shaking bodies, "third, I would like you to carry me to the car and take me home. I'm tired."

"Your wish is my command, dear." Sylus smiled as he walked around those shaking kneeling bodies, pulled out the chair and carried me bridal style, out of the meeting room.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, "You're here early."

"That bastard thought those cheap counterfeit protocores could fool me. So I thought it would be a lovely surprise for my wife if I returned early, so I decided to detonate the entire building."

Sylus is rushing to get back to me just to see the scene before him. I leaned into his neck and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"There is nothing for you to apologize for. Whatever you do, I will gladly give you anything to support you. You do what you want, whatever the aftermath results from it, I will deal with it."

"I know you would."

"Then you should know I want to hear something else from you."

I smiled, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

As long as Sylus is alive, I will never be alone.

Thank you for reading, I'll post a continuous part (part 3) tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. In case you dont know, this part is the continuous part of "Queen of Onychinus I".

I'm also playing around the settings in tumblr, cuz I haven't writen on tumblr for a while. I also desperately want to understand how to do a freaking line break without adding line break pictures

[springseasonie]

Blackout | KDY (M)

Established relationship, Fiance Doyoung x fem reader

Summary: The powerful storm outside knocks your power out even though Doyoung assured you it would be fine. Luckily, he bought candles the day before just in case this happened. But even with the candles to light the dark house, you were still a bit anxious about the storm, so Doyoung decided to distract you for a bit

Warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, breeding kink, softer dynamic, fluff (I think idk), proofread but may still be errors

Word count: 3,2k

Song recs: get you by Daniel Caesar

A/N: wrote this listening to the cutest kpop gg music you could imagine. Literally listening to achoo by lovelyz rn (stream) please lmk if I missed any warnings. Feedback is loved and appreciated

"Are you sure everything will be fine out there? It's looking pretty serious." You stood by the window of your living room staring outside at the storm.

"Well I don't know for sure, but what I do know is that you shouldn't stand near the window like that." Doyoung grabbed your arm pulling you away from the window. "It's night time so hopefully nothing too crazy happens. Are all the flashlights up here?"

"Yeah." You turned to Doyoung who put his hands on his hips with a concentrated expression. He was always so cute like that. "Babe, we're gonna be okay. There's no need to-"

The room went completely silent as your vision was impaired with the sudden blackout. All that you could see was the trees moving in the strong wind and power lines flying in different directions. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, turning on the flashlight to see in front of you.

"Babe? You still there," you said loudly, looking around.

"Yeah I'm just getting the flashlights and candles," he called from the kitchen.

"I didn't even know we had candles," you laugh.

"I bought them yesterday just in case." You pointed your phone in the direction of the kitchen, seeing him walk back with his hands and arms full. He placed all the stuff on the coffee table with a big sigh. "Wanna help me light them?"

"Of course." You sat on the floor next to him between the couch and the table. Doyoung handed you a lighter and the two of you started lighting the candles "you're always so prepared."

"In life, you always think 3 steps ahead." He placed the candle in the candle holder, carefully putting it on the table. Doyoung reached to pick up another one, but was distracted by how pretty you looked in the lowlight. Your features were soft, and the way you picked up everything was delicate.

You turned to ask him something, but was quickly humored when you caught him staring at you. Doyoung looked away from you super flustered by it. His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, making him cover his face. You snickered as he whined in his hands from the embarrassment. Even after dating him for so long, he was still embarrassed like a middle schooler.

"Don't be embarrassed," you teased, poking him softly. "you're so cute, you know that?"

Doyoung groaned, earning a soft laugh from you. "stop, it's embarrassing."

"It's not." You continued lighting candles listening to the rain pick up outside. You set it down before turning to Doyoung who was still hiding his face. You ruffled your hands in his hair knowing that would be the only thing to make him come back to you.

"Don't mess up my hair, I spent so much time on it today," he whined, moving your hand gently.

"It still looks good. Looks like the aftermath of a long week," you said, winking at him. Doyoung, who was already flustered enough, gave you nervous laughter. "You know..these candles are kind of romantic."

"You think so," he asked, a small smile on his face. He stood up m, taking 2 candles with him setting up the room.

"Mhm," you answer. You finished lighting the rest of the candles and stood up to help Doyoung put them around the first floor. "Maybe we should be romantic while we have the chance," you laugh.

"Do you think we're still gonna have to work tomorrow?"

"Hopefully not. Hopefully a tree falls in the middle of the street. Okay…I'm all done." You turn to Doyoung who was finishing up the candles right along with you. The room looked nice and lit up like this. It reminded you of a room in a dark academia movie with all the books and papers lying around. Doyoung looked good in the low light too. The slight silhouette of his body in front of the candles was so pretty. He was so pretty, and it was starting to do things to you.

You and Doyoung sat on the couch together snuggled into one another under the throw blanket. You nuzzled your head between his neck, inhaling his cologne that you loved so much. You felt Doyoung tense up a bit, squeezing you closer into him as the storm picked up. He knew you didn't like storms very much, and you were starting to get a lot more anxious as time went on.

"You okay," he said quietly.

You nodded, planting a small kiss on his jawline. "It's getting really bad out there."

"I know," he said, kissing your forehead. "Don't worry about the storm, okay? I'm here."

"I know I shouldn't worry…but what if the tree in the backyard falls or the one across the street? What if-"

Doyoung turned your head to face him and kissed you deeply. He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You pulled away from him, looking up at him with adoration. He was always so sweet, never wanting you to worry about a thing.

"Don't worry about what's going on outside," he said quietly.

"Well, now I can't worry about anything because of you." You smiled, glancing at his dimly lit lips. "I think we should take advantage of this romantic setting. What do you think?"

"I think you're right." Doyoung smiled before kissing you again, capturing your lips in a heated exchange. You kiss him back, moaning softly into his mouth. Your hand finds its way to his chest, holding his shirt softly.

"I bet you were thinking about this all day," he mumbled against your lips.

His voice was so deep and raspy and you could hear the smirk in his statement. It gave you butterflies, and they immediately went right to your core. You wanted to just kiss him for the time being, just in case something bad happened outside or inside. But the way he was kissing you, the way his fingers softly glided on your arm - you needed him.

"Do you think you can distract me some more," you mumbled. You pulled away from his lips, kissing his face softly. You could feel his beard growing back and still smell the expensive skin care he loved.

"It's almost like you read my mind."

You and Doyoung move yourselves on the couch, him under you and you on top of him. Doyoung could never get over the way you looked at him. It made him feel warm and fuzzy. Not once have you even made him feel unwanted or unloved, and he hoped that it would stay that way forever.

"You're staring again," you giggle softly.

"I know." Doyoung took one of your hands and clasped them with his, squeezing it tight. "You're so beautiful."

"Don't get sentimental on me," you whine softly, but the smile on your lips was wide. You always got shy when he started complimenting you out of the blue. Doyoung was big on words of affirmation. He always had to tell you that he loves you, or anything that showed his love for you in general. You loved it because no one ever made you feel as special as he did.

"I'm not being sentimental, I'm just telling you." Doyoung kissed the back of your hand, making you even more flustered than before. "But I'll stop talking because I know you just want my dick in you."

"You didn't have to put it that way," you laugh. You leaned down, kissing him softly. Doyoung placed his other hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh softly. Doyoung let go of your hand and placed both of them on your hips. Unconsciously, you started to grind on top of him, lips never leaving his. His hands followed your movements, pushing his hips up to get more friction.

The sound of the rain breathing the windows created the perfect white noise for you to put your focus on him. You pulled away from him, leaning lower to kiss his neck.

"God, I love you so much," he sighed.

"I know you do." You came up and pulled your shirt above your head, throwing it on the floor in front of the couch. You reached to your back, unclipping your bra. Doyoung's gaze never left your body, watching as the fabric fell from your skin exposing your chest. Every time felt like the first time. It didn't matter how many times you undressed yourself in front of him, he would still get excited and nervous all at the same time.

"I'll never get tired of this," he mumbled, eyes going straight to your chest.

"I hope you don't because I'll never get tired of you," you said softly. You lift Doyoung's shirt tugging it up. He lifts his arms helping you get the fabric off of him. You toss the shirt next to yours and shuffle off his lap to remove your pants. Doyoung started doing the same. His hands clumsily undid his belt, fingers unable to properly hold the leather because of how sweaty his fingertips were. You watched him, laughing softly as you moved his hands gently, undoing his belt for him.

"Why do you still get nervous every time," you laughed.

"Because it's you."

Your hands are on his zipper when you stop and look at him. You leaned in, kissing him quickly with a small smile on your face. "We might as well get married now since you wanna be all cute and romantic," you tease.

"But if we do that, you won't get your big princess wedding." The both of you laugh as you pull off his jeans and boxers. You run your hands down his chest, making his breath hitch in his throat slightly. The way your nails raked softly over his skin - he wanted to put a baby in you right at this moment.

You had almost completely forgotten about the storm at that point, just focusing on Doyoung in the candle light. But like always, your small fears had to betray you in some way. You glanced out the window, immediately becoming worried again seeing the trees sway in the wind and - wait, is it hailing now? The loud sound of the balls of nice hitting your window and car in the driveway confirmed your thoughts, making you knit your brows.

"I think it's hailing now, Do."

"I know, but don't worry about it, okay." Doyoung put his hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Don't worry about anything. Just lay back and let me take care of you." Doyoung gently laid you on the couch, lifting your legs. You and him had discussed having children before, conversation always ending in "I don't know" or "maybe," but right now he was feeling like the answer should be "definitely."

You laid there watching him as he lined himself with your core, eyes lost in the wetness between your legs. Doyoung pushed himself into you, a sigh of relief and pleasure falling from both of your lips. Doyoung moved his hands from your thighs to your ankles, holding them tight in his hands. Your brows knit once he starts thrusting, moving in and out of you slowly.

"You remember that conversation we had about kids," he asked, breathing heavily because of the pleasure.

"Mhm," you nod, lip between your teeth.

"I..I changed my mind, I want one… now." Doyoung's other hand found its way to your core, fingers gently toying with your clit as he thrusted. He felt you shiver under his touch, soft moans filling the space of the quiet room. "Wanna put a baby in you so bad.."

You nodded, only half listening to what he was saying. And in all honesty, you wanted it too. You needed it. "Please Doyoung, put a baby in me," you moaned softly.

Doyoung kept thrusting in you slowly, breathy groans leaving his lips. His eyes followed your hands as you brought one to your chest, pinching your nipple, and the other to Doyoung's hand that was in your clit. You followed his movements, pressing his fingers on your clit harder. "Fuck," you whispered. "Faster baby."

Doyoung let go of your ankles, allowing you to readjust yourself on the couch. He leaned down, kissing you passionately as he thrusted. His movements were sharp and deep, the sound of skin slapping playing over your ears instead of the worsening storm outside. You cupped his face, moaning on his lips.

"Fuck..right there," you whined softly.

If he could, he would get your face at the very moment tattooed on his brain. You were so pretty, you were always pretty no matter what. But something about your face when you were under him, letting yourself be vulnerable despite your usual introverted nature was so fascinating to him. You always crumbled at every touch, every word, every sound. And to make matters better, you looked angelic in the candle light.

Your arms were now around his neck, forehead resting on his as the both of you moaned. Doyoung's arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He needed to be chest to chest with you, feeling every breath you took. Doyoung slipped into the crook of your neck, planting messy kisses on your sweaty skin. You whimpered in his ears, hands in his hair.

"You sound so pretty baby," he mumbled on your skin. "I love it so much."

"D-Doyoung.." The way his name rolled off your tongue almost sent him to the moon. You clenched around him slightly, earning a small raspy whine from him. Doyoung took your left hand and pinned it on the arm of the couch above you. He clasped his hand with yours, squeezing it tightly as if he would lose you if he let it go.

He kissed you once again, tongue dancing with yours. He was so desperate for you and you could feel it. You always felt it, and it always turned you on even more. You never knew Doyoung to be a person who loved physical touch, but after you started dating him, he was like a completely different person, especially in bed. He borderline worshipped, and while it was overwhelming in the beginning, you grew to love and crave more of his attention.

Just as he pulled away, the sudden sound of thunder roared through the sky. The sound was so strong, you felt your house shake at the sound’s vibrations. The sudden noise made you jump, making Doyoung pause his movements for a moment. "You okay," he asked worriedly, scanning your face.

You nodded, giving him a small smile. "I'm okay, it just surprised me a little." You have him a quick kiss moving your arm from around his neck to cup his face. "Keep going."

Doyoung started thrusting again, a low grunt in his throat feeling you squeeze around him again. You were still cupping his face, finger tips lightly brushing his skin with every movement. Doyoung squeezed your hand again, wincing slightly at your nails digging into his skin. Doyoung started fucking into you harder, pulling louder sounds out of you.

"That..that feels good," you said between pants.

"How good baby? Tell me." Doyoung leaned into you neck, teeth nipping softly at your skin. His arm was still wrapped around your back, rubbing circles in your waist.

"Really good," you whimpered. "I'm so close Do."

His brows were knit when he lifted his head from your neck. Doyoung canned your face, a small smile tugging in his lips. He could always tell when you were close. You always tend to cling to his shoulder or grab whatever you were holding tighter, and this time it was both of those things. Your hands gripped his hand and shoulder hard, nails imprinting on his flesh. "Look at me when you cum."

You nodded, trying your best to listen and be good for him. You felt yourself become small under Doyoung's intense gaze, gulping when you felt your body begin to tense up. "Baby, I..I'm gonna.."

And just like that, you came hard squeezing around him hard. Your moans filled the room, body trembling under his when he pulled you closer.

"That's it Y/N. I know that felt good," he cooed. "Where do you want me to cum?"

"Inside me," you panted. "I wasn't kidding earlier."

"You sure? I don't mind doing it but-"

"I'm sure Doyoung." You kissed him, smiling against his lips when he kissed you back harder. Doyoung started thrusting into you again, a shudder falling last your lips. You were already sensitive from cumming first, every movement started feeling like an electrical current flowing throughout body.

"Fucking hell," you moaned loudly, throwing your head back at the feeling.

"Just a little more baby. Can you take it for me?"

"Anything for you." You were slightly slurring on your words, too overtaken with pleasure. Doyoung kept rocking his body at a steady pace, but his movements were getting rougher and rougher. He dropped his head in the crook of your neck, soft moans and whimpers leaving his lips closer and closer to his orgasm.

"Cum in me Doyoung. Make me yours."

That's all he needed. Doyoung came inside of you hard for the first time. The both of you moaned together, the warm liquid spreading inside you. Doyoung clung to your body, still holding your body close to his like you would run away from him. His breathing was heavy along with yours, breaths tickling your neck. Doyoung let go of your hand but stayed on your palm simply resting it.

"I can't believe we actually did that," he said giving you a soft tired chuckle.

"Well I can." You kissed the top of his head, nuzzling your nose in his hair.

"Are you..sure you're okay with me cumming inside you? That seemed like such a heat of the moment thing," he questioned.

"It was, but I don't regret it."

Doyoung lifted his body off of yours, staring down at your tired face. You had a happy, content look on your face, like you waited for this to happen. Just when he was about to say something thunder roared again. He looked over to the window, seeing that the hail stopped and all that was left was horrible rain. This time you didn't jump because you were so distracted by the mere thought of a mini Doyoung running around your house.

"The hail stopped.."

"I love you."

A soft laugh escapes your lips speaking at the same time as him. You licked your lips, smiling at his flustered expression. "Why are you getting embarrassed?"

"You said that out of nowhere," he said, blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Your naked and inside of me. And when you pull out, your-"

"Okay, okay. I get it. I shouldn't be embarrassed about it," he chuckled. Doyoung kissed you softly, smiling in your lips. "I love you too."

"Good. Now what are we naming our children?"

Doyoung gave you an amused look, trying to lift himself off your body only for you to pull him back down. "Y/N, we'll talk about that when I get off you."

"But I want you close," you pout.

"Okay, fine. If we have a girl, I like the name Sarah," he said, giving into your question.

"And a boy?"

"I just want girls."

"Do, that's not how it works-"

"I said what I said."

[theangelcatalogue]

WHAT'S WRONG? || YANDERE FRANCIS X READER! || ★!

★ - Romantic or Platonic(?)!

★ - Gender Neutral reader!

★ - One shot!

★ - Before we start: Idk why i did this, but i saw fics of him, and people going crazy over him, so why not?? I don't even write for that's not my neighbour, but i love the game! So let' go! Also sorry if is confusing! My mind is kinda tired and idk why i wrote this at 1AM(Is i wrote this at 1AM, remade some parts and posted it at 2AM) (Pls check Tw before reading it! <3)

★ - TW: YANDERE, DOPPELGANGER, BLOOD, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR AND MADE BY A MINOR!!! PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!!!

   ˚๑ ✦ Y/N!!! ✦ ๑°

・・・ ★ ・・・

︶ ꒷ ︶ ꒷ ꒦

Just a normal day in work!

This work is not that bad, i mean, i have to focus in every single neighbor, check some papers and be careful because some of than can be actually doppelgangers that will kill me and the persons that live here? Yeah-

But is guess i am getting used to it! And some neighbors are really nice! And others are just weird and rude! But what i can do? People are like that!

It's kinda weird that no one is showing up now, but i can have some time to rest now! Just me, a good coffee and my jornal/book(it can be a jornal or a book!)

Now i am just reading, waiting for anyone, i mean the today's list is short today! Lucky me i guess? I get kinda focused in the reading, the content is kinda depressing and boring, but is what i have for now

" Hello Y/n. "

I heard someone saying, Oh! I can't forget this voice!

" Francis! Tired as always? Well, let's see if you are in todays list! "

I said not taking the eyes of my jornal/book, i am lucky that Francis is the one who showed up! He is kinda nice! Just a tired guy but hey! He is a hardworker!

" Sounds good for me. Here is my entry request and ID "

I could notice him giving the papers, now i notice his hand is kinda dirty and his voice is kinda off, more tired than usual...

" Oh! Thanks- "

I respond him finally taking my eyes of the book, now i can see Francis better let's say, he is covered in a red liquid with a weird smell

It is what i am thinking? Oh yeah! A doppelganger! But i never thought a doppelganger would commit a error like that, why blood...? Some are a missing eye, others just say peach and others are a long neck and etc, what if is not a doppelganger...?

" What's wrong Y/n? Something wrong about the papers? "

He says noticing that i am kinda nervous, i just pick the papers and the clickboard as usual, first thing to question?

His looks.

" Francis! What happend? You are corvered in...what is that? Can you explain? "

Francis just looks at his outifit and then back at me, the same tired look, but something about the way he looks at me is different, i can't tell what is

" Oh this? It's a new milk! Scarlett Milk! It's a Milk with Red coloring, and Yes, it's food coloring! Not used in clothes... "

" Really Francis? So tell me! How did you got corvered in...Scarlett Milk...? "

He was getting tired of me questioning i guess, okay, i have three options!

1. It's really a milk with food coloring

2. It's a doppelganger

3. Francis is a killer or just got crazy

Please let it be 1-

" Accident at work. Just that, can i go in? "

He asks me looking at me deep at the eyes, i feel like he is judging all my sins, i break the eye contact and look at the Red button and then at the phone

Should i call the police or my boss?

" Look Y/N, i am really tired, just let me in, so i can go take a shower and rest. Maybe after you are done, you can go to my room, drink some coffee together! I heard is your favorite drink, what about a coffee with milk uh? "

He says to me, i think he is getting impatient

OH REALLT Y/N L/N!? DON'T TELL ME

" I- "

" Come on darling. "

He gets closer to the window, supporting his one of his arms in the glass

" Let. Me. In "

✦ - NOTES!!!

✮ " Sky wtf was that? " I DON'T KNOW LOL ✮

✮ The fandom go crazy about him gosh ✮

✮ Okay should i write for TNMN??? ✮

✮ Anyways have a good day my loves! <33 ✮

[zorosq]

like a puzzle ; roronoa zoro

↻ fluff, jealous zoro, friends to lovers, sanji being sanji, grammatical error

↻ pairing ↬ zoro (opla) x f!reader!

@trafalgardvivi asked: Hey hey hey! I have a Zoro LA request for you. Can you please do a Zoro x former slave reader who is somewhat like a package deal with Zoro? How does she fit into the crew? I would like maybe around the time they are at the Baratie maybe Sanji hits on her and Zoro (of course is not happy). Idk exactly. But I know your work and it will be great whatever you decide. Thanks. 😊

a/n i dont usually take requests that includes former slave reader bcs i find that topic uncomfortable and unsettling. also bcs when i write, the reader's background was never mentioned. so...

"hey, you don't think he was hitting on y/n, right?" usopp asked, taking a sip from his drink as he stared at you. nami only shrugged while zoro mumbled something under his breath. "i- i don't think he was hitting on me. maybe he was just being nice," you chuckled softly.

"yeah, right. calling someone pretty is being nice," zoro grunts. "oh, come on! you call me pretty all the time! isn't that being nice?" you tilted your head slightly. "well- that's different!" the green haired male stood up abruptly. nami and usopp made eye contact and smirked. "sure is different," usopp snicked behind his drink.

the swordsman only huffed in annoyance. "so... when's the food arriving? i'm already starving," luffy sighed. not a while after luffy said that, the blond waiter came back with a charming smile on his face. "for you, mademoiselle," he winked and placed the drink in front of you. "uhh... we didn't order this," you speaked up.

"it's on the house. enjoy, miss," he nodded at you and nami. zoro was staring holes into the blond waiter. "zoro... it's not good to stare at people like that..." you nudged him. "what's not good is flirting with every women he sees," he said in a low tone. "you're out of limit. he can't do that with you," he hissed at the blond waiter.

usopp and nami snickered, trying to cover it up by looking away. luffy was already in his owm world, eating and complimenting how good the food is. nami nudged you slightly, signaling for you to get closer to her. "you like zoro?" she asked teasingly. your face flushed a little, suddenly feeling conscious of your surroundings. "is it obvious?" you asked.

"to us, yes. but don't worry. zoro won't catch a single thing," she chuckled. "we'll help you out if you want," usopp butts in. "oh... i don't think that's necessary," you waved your hand dismissively.

.

after the fight with mihawk, zoro was terribly injured. you were worried that he might not wake up at all. you sat by his side the entire time. holding his hand one second and then you were pacing around the room. "you have to wake up... you said that you wanted to be the world strongest swordsman..." you muttered under your breath. "you said that you want me to be there to witness it..." you cried softly.

"hey, don't cry," zoro croaked out. you immediately looked at him with wide eyes. "you're awake..." he wiped away the tears that's slowly flowing freely. "i'm alright. i'm not going anywhere," he kissed your forehead. he immediately accepted your hug when you basically threw yourself on him.

for a while, the two of you kept hugging, not ready to let the other go.

[zabiume]

Have you seen the theory regarding Rukia's origins? I just heard of it, and I think it'll definitely be explored in the hell arc (when/if we get it), especially because Ichika was the first person to notice the hell hollows?? And since Renji didn't see them, we can only assume this could come from Rukia? Anyway, it's mostly based on the differences in how her name is written on chapter covers compared to all the other shinigami (used nanao for comparison, but everyone else has the brush stroke writing). Kubo even mentioned this in klub outside as something intentional!

Your post mentioning hell arc reminded me of this so i wanted to ask what u think :3

yes, i've seen this!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about it since he said that on klub, but idk if it has anything to do with what you said about ichika, though? the only reason she spotted them first seems to be because a) ichigo and renji are bickering with their backs turned to the hollows, while she's at an angle where she can see them, and b) the reason renji didn't see them/sense them seems to be because the hollows' spiritual pressure was undetectable

it's unclear what exactly rukia got up to in the years between hisana abandoning her and her meeting renji and the other boys, but it looks like she'd already been calling herself "rukia" by the time she met them, so my leading theory is that she chose that name for herself

but it's unclear how or when or why she would do this and why that name in particular. i've always been curious about this blank period in her life and how many questions about her are still unanswered (at least to me).

we also get a birthday for her, which is interesting because, as hitsugaya notes, most people in rukongai don't exactly have birthdays, since they were never born, but in the same chapter we do get rangiku and gin deciding that rangiku's birthday is the day they met, so it's possible that a lot of rukongai "birthdays" are really just days that hold significant meaning to them, so what exactly is significant about january 14th to rukia? granted, this is from her character sketch at the end of volume 1, so it's possible this is a thoughtless "error" that kubo might have made while he was still figuring out the soul society world-building but idk! these are definitely questions i have and the lack of answers frustrate/excite me. i do think kubo's telling the truth about the brush strokes being significant though because he usually owns up to things he did by accident or things he wasn't thinking too deeply about, so i do tend to believe him when he says it's intentional but WHAT does it mean, though?

[marching-weirdo]

if you told me that I would draw pj masks in 2024 two years ago I would ask who are they.

gunntech au sketches cause I'm normal. also taken during ap us history so ignore random strokes :3. headcanons under more.

connor:

my trans king!!!! 💪💪

gave him scars. most are long and thin, since they usually happen when hes running

let Greg give him a haircut before he transitioned, now never not gets a Greg haircut ™️

stays up late reading, hence eyebags

I have a trans male friend who loves this au as much as I do, so he asked if he could "model" for catboy.

again, this was during class, so he was smouldering like Flynn Ryder while I was learning about Pennsylvania so you know

the more you know

anyway he's Filipino and I'm like OOH THIS WOULD BE COOL

so he's filipino american

also BIG EYES cause cat

gay (thanks romeo) but he's only had, like, two crushes in his life

one of the two kids who go to school

could care less what people think, likes to show off scars ("For the ladies!" his gay ass says)

interesting marching weirdo fact, the lines making up Connor are more scraggly and rough then the others! it's kinda to show he's an angst boy for me lol. but it's cool lore about me!!

imma be honest, Connor was my least favorite sorry!!

also ignore bad gay pride flag, I ran out of colors

amaya

Japanese american (I think it's in @elmushterri video)

oh also @elmushterri is the creator of this au so follow super cool and amazing and intelligent and interesting and-

psa out

lesbian

see Connors flag error for bad Yuri flag

amaya is super careful about getting hurt

see, El said in a qna that amaya was under a super strict household so her aunt probably would want her to shave her legs, etc until said aunt eventually gets redeemed and amaya can be her own girl boss

so I read that and said "HOLD MY BEER"

so when she was like 9, she got a scar on her cheek due to training with Connor and Greg

amaya went home and her aunt starting freaking out

idk if I want the aunt to say it directly to her or like to a friend on the phone that amaya hears, but her aunt says something along the lines of "scar" and "uncivilized" and "ugly" (I imagine what amaya heard was a distortion of what her aunt actually says but I degress)

since then, amaya makes sure to be as safe as she can and not get scars.

she eventually gets one on her leg, but she can cover it with pants

so she changes the "Don't get hurt" philosophy to "only get hurt where you can hide that scar"

so she is the most careful of the three

but she has multiple scars around her body

for a while she thought "if I get a scar on my arm, I won't on my face" philosophy because ngl she's my version of anxious™️

but eventually she realizes that's dumb.

her back is shredded due to enemies trying to cut her wings

eventually when she is in therapy and an adult, Luna will draw shapes on some of her scars and vice versa

adult amaya still gets embarrassed whenever someone sees her scares

anyway

amaya has terrible eyesight. horrible. Luna knows this

has a hair pin with a moon on it as a gift from luna (the notes that came with it said "for when you need to shank a bitch on short notice"

wears it everywhere

keeps hair long to hide neck scars and only puts it up during training or on duty

fun story: Greg and connor wanted her to get a really short hairstyle so they could be the "Bob boys"

amaya refused and greg and connors dream died

the other kid to go to school

star pupil. young prodigy.

as all mae whitman characters should be

fun fact: took me hours to do her nose.

finally figured it out when I looked at katara fan art and said "ah"

so MAE WHITMAN CONNECTED UNIVERSE?!?

also

her lines are very curvy and delicate to show her more level-headed thinking.

as opposed to connors roughness

my fav. I support her rights and wrongs 😔✊️

greg

rich kid mullet let's gooooooo

i kinda got inspired by a cross between andrian from miraculous ladybug and dick Grayson from Wayne family adventures

speaking of adrian

he's French American because of course

he grew out his hair to match amaya and connor hates him now

home schooled (rich kids smh)

because he's homeschooled, he doesn't care about cuts and scars and hurting himself because he thinks it's perfectly normal

also, he was sprayed with acid during a test (you know those dinos from jurassic Park who shoot venom? that but feral child)

incredibly buff and will hug you to the point of death

TALL

I looked and he seems to not have many ships with men

so an ally

he's also clueless so...

he doesn't actually know that homophobia is a thing

he sees two men kiss he thinks cool

two women? cool

a woman and a man? SAVE ROOM FOR JESUS

joking.hes chill

he has dimples and the biggest smile ever

for angst: his smile gets smaller and smaller as each season happens.

as a teen, his resting face is a smile

eventually resting he looks in pain

ANYWAY

incredibly smart

romeo hates how smart he is

but romeo is street and lab smart

greg tries

he can tell you about quantum theory but doesn't understand that people are sarcastic

he's probably autistic or has adhd or both

he probably wasn't professionally tested

Luna probably gave him a lizard to watch and Greg didn't move for 16 hours

also luna and greg are besties

because of course

fun drawing: very square

I wanted him for two reasons

1: he's always stiff due to being a Gunn

2: he feels like a robot: infinite possibilities but only if a button is hit

anyways thank you! sorry for long post! villains up soon!!

[randomalistic]

hi :3 I saw your recent Wreck It Ralph vid (loved it) and seeing your avatar reminded me that I wanted to do something similar for my own vids? I am. Really bad at wording things my question is what size canvas did you use to draw them? And is there anything I need to keep in mind when implementing my own avatar into my YT vid like yt compressing the video or anything? I hope this makes sense like I said I suck at wording things 😭

Ooh okay!! Good question :] also I'm really happy you enjoyed!!

I am an amateur so idk how useful this info is but Here (dumps everything)

The emotes were made in Krita (any art software will work)

The canvas size was around 1000 x 1000 pixels

Starting out, doing a basic emotion sheet works well. Watching other PNGtuber videos helps you organize how many you may need and what emotions are used the most (expect to make 30 or more drawings, which is A LOT at first, and might take a couple weeks, but once you have them you can use them forever!)

Also start your video even if you're still working on emotes! It helps to sorta do everything at once :)

This grid doesn't cover everything I used (it was a very messy process) but it might be useful so here :)

I think its also a good idea to make a "base" and then mess with expressions from there. This one had a lot of usability. (and also a lot of layers)

Later on I found it most useful to listen to the stuff I recorded, and then make a drawing for that moment specifically. You can then apply that "emotion" to other places where it fits

this is probably my favorite example because i based the expression off King Candy LOL. USING REFERENCES IS FUN !!!!!!!!! And I ended up using this one a lot !

Also expect a lot of rejected designs and struggling w drawing expressions because it's Hard. Developing the style you want takes a lot of time!! (I scrapped these 3 i made early on)

//

Exporting and YouTube processing was a little tricky but here’s what worked for me:

- I used Davinci Resolve to export the project. My video was made at 24fps, the same framerate as my footage. (The Movie) Earlier on, I kept noticing my audio was too loud and weird glitchy visual artifacts kept showing up. After trial and error I found these settings worked the best:

Main takeaway, i legit dont understand how any of this works but:

ITU-R BS.1770-4 normalization for audio is Good

Lower your finished audio track to -13.5dB. It will sound quiet, but YouTube likes this and will make it a normal volume (?? I THINK?? Do your own testing, my final video was kind of quiet but nobody commented on it so its fine as long as it's consistent)

H.265 encoding with .mov format (aka QuickTime) is Good

And that's probably enough infodumping for now. Its okay to feel overwhelmed and unsure where to start but making a video is SO FUN and i encourage it more than anything :))) Take your time and learn at your own pace! There are lots of great tutorials online.

I WOULD BE HAPPY TO ANSWER ANY EXISTING QUESTIONS

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[carriesthewind]

i know very little about law, but im gonna be honest, i feel a bit bad for the loduca guy. is it a good look to sign a coworkers work without looking? absolutely not, they are paid to be anal about this stuff. but it feels like such a human thing to do, if you worked with someone for 25+ years, and never had a significant reason to doubt their work, to just kind of visually skim over the thing, and then sign and stample, bc you trust the guy.

and yeah maybe you saw he was having some issues with this case, the opposite side/judge asking for some documents they cant find and therefore think are fabricated, but again, you trust your coworker, trust that they did the job and this is a mistake not on his part, and you probably have your own workload to worry about, your own cases, so you think little of it. idk, while a bit lazy (bad look) it feels like something that would happen at an office, you know?

that being said ive got a feeling those people are not going to be practicing law quite soon. more so i dont recall if the law firm was one of theirs, but i assume even if it's not, it will have a very hard time recovering from this

A bit of a long and rambling answer here on just my own thoughts on the matter, so I'm putting it below the cut!

I do feel some sympathy for him...for the first opposition brief. My sympathy vanishes once he submitted the fake "opinions" to the court.

Because I absolutely get trusting your colleague, especially if you have worked with him for so long. And as lawyers, it is a really serious thing to sign a submission to the court that you haven't at least read - but it is also very a very human thing to do. People, including lawyers, cut corners and make errors all the time.

But part of his problem isn't just that he was skimming and signing something - when you sign a submission as an attorney, you are making a very real (and legally binding - that's the point of Rule 11) promise to the court. LoDuca is still listed as Mata's counsel of record (and his only counsel of record in this case). He told the court that he was representing this dude, and he never really was.

I saw someone - I think on twitter? - say he was covering up for Schwartz practicing law without a license. Which is technically true! But it's also - come on, there is (usually) a practical, if not ethical, difference between letting some random pretend to be lawyer by signing and submitting their documents without supervision, and signing and submitting documents for a colleague in a jurisdiction they aren't admitted to without going through the steps of having him formally act as local counsel, when you know the end result would be the same if you walked through the formal steps. I want to be clear - the second thing is not okay at all, and is very much against the rules. But, I am also 100% confident he's not the only person doing it, and I can the the way that someone would feel like it was a justifiable bending, not breaking of the rules.

But even then, the problem is that as attorneys, we are (supposed to be) held to a high ethical standard. I said this in an earlier post, but when an attorney makes representations to the court, the court takes those very seriously, because we are assumed to be following those ethical standards. If I make a legal or factual representation in a courtroom, there can be immediate and real consequences for people's lives.

It's a self-licensing and a self-policing profession, and we what we do has very serious consequences both on a societal and individual level. Even in a simple case like this originally was, a personal injury negligence case brought by an individual - the complaint says the plaintiff suffered serious, disabling injuries and has been prevented from working, and he is seeking compensation for his medical care and his inability to work. If that's true, this case is about (should have been about) who paid for that needed medical care, the necessities of life.

And I think this case is an example of why those rules can matter - sure, most of the time, someone doing what LoDuca was won't get caught, and maybe it won't matter practically. But part of the reasons we have those rules is to try to prevent - well maybe not this bullshit precisely - bullshit like this from happening. "Other people break the rules too and don't get caught" isn't an excuse.

But again, it still is a very human kind of error, so I still have sympathy. The real problem, for me, is the submission of the fake opinions.

Because once he got the order from the court ordering him to provide copies of the opinions or the case would be dismissed, he must have known something was wrong. That is not a normal order to receive. That order means the court (which has access to all the legal research tools he doesn't) thinks something is very seriously wrong. If he did not read that order and immediately go "Oh fuck" and a) read the defendant's reply and b) realize the cases seem to have been fake, he is not competent to practice law. And I mean that in a very serious way - he has no business practicing in the field with such serious consequences for people's lives if he didn't immediately recognize the problem.

So once he got that order, he has no excuse. At that point, he either consciously perpetrated a lie upon the court; or he is too incompetent to practice.

[themsthenow]

Ok so this is kinda a tutorial but not really cause I don't recommend doing some of the things I did, cause it's not safe.

The pic on the right is 1 out of 12 thingys I cut out of ply wood

I used a saw to cut them out.

you could probably just use something slightly wider than a regular lollipop stick to get the overhang , like the free wooden utensils at a cafés.

You'll probably need 2 or 3 if so for each finger joint

The claws were cut out of some board I found in my house, but a clipboard should probably work, maybe double up just incase idk.

I don't recommend getting a knife and hammering out the outline of each individual claw thing, a scissors should hopefully be enough.

I dont have a photos of:

1. drilling holes into each end of all of the stick joints(the black dots were holes I burned, until my wood burner died, they're also held together with bent nails)

2. Cutting out the board for the palm part where my hand is

3. Taking a bunch of clothes pegs for the springs to attach the fingers to said palm board using a long piece of metal? To hold it like the bent nails, you could probably just use a skewer

4. Tying wires like a cm apart from the drilled holes(you can't really see it in the image) to thread string through, so it can move the joints when pulled, you can see the twisted part on the outside of the finger joints, once they're tight just flatten them into the joint and put hot glue over them so they don't catch on anything like your clothes or skin

5. Gluing a foam sheet and elastic band to the palm board

6. Gluing the half pegs on to the outside of each of the finger joints so they don't go backwards

I added another Layer of foam to the board to cover the elastic and the painted them.

There was a lot of trial and error (and hot glue) trying to get these things to not overlap when moving them but they work now

Hopefully this helps someone somehow, be careful and stuff

Each finger joint was made with 2 lollipop sticks and 1 ply wood cut out thing, with the ply wood thing hany out . The holes were put in at both ends

The wires on the joints can be any type, I think, as long as its sticks

The claws and hand board can be made out of layered clipboard(probably)

I used acrylic paint, idk if it matters though

When drilling or burning the hole be careful, for both your safety and not breaking the lollipop sticks

Idk if the bent nails could be replaced with anything. Wooden skewers?

The thread I used is actually fishing wire because it's thin, strong and passes smoothly between the joints

Soo for 2 hands

Lollipop sticks x 24, bring spares

Ply wood cut outs/ an alternative x12

Clipboard board cut outs of claws x6

Pully wire /fishing wire

Craft Foam x1 sheet

Clothes pegs x12

Nails /an alternative x12

A bit of elastic fabric

Paint

A glue gun with lots of glue sticks

A SAFE way to cut out everything

A SAFE way to drill the holes

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Semantic Error | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter 3

Based off of Semantic Error (bl) by J Soori Summary: y/n meets Jimin and makes Jungkook jealous Pairing: Techie inexperienced fem!reader x Artist fuck boy Jungkook Word count: 2.7k~ Warnings: Explicit language, Idk that's pretty much it for this chapter. A/N: This is heavily based off of the original bl (boy love) Semantic Error and it covers chapters (episodes) 4,5 and 29. I've switched around the timeline quite a bit and got rid of some scenes here and there to make the story progress a bit faster so they're not exactly alike but I would like to stick close to the original story so let me know what you think! P.s. If you don't mind spoilers I would highly suggest reading the original story. I read it on the app Manta with the english adaptation being done by Angy and you can also find the Kdrama on Viki :) Read from the beginning

The next day as I'm walking to the cafeteria I see a guy fall dropping some books and papers all over the floor. I decide to walk past because honestly it's not my problem but unfortunately once I'm in his line of sight he decides to call out to me. "Hey sorry do you think you could help me pick this stuff up? I shouldn't have tried to balance all of it on top of each other" he says clearly regretting his actions. I start picking things up quietly, not making an effort to make conversation and once we're finished I decide to turn and go. 

"Wait! What's your name?" he asks preventing me from leaving. "y/n" I state and wait for him to continue on with whatever he had planned to say. "Well y/n would you mind helping me carry this stuff over to the music building? I'm just worried I might drop it all again" he says taking all of the heavy books and hoping that I'll pick up the folders full of sheet music. I stand there for a second trying to calculate the time it would take me to help him out and if I can fit it into my schedule. 

"If you help me, I'll buy you lunch" he says with a bright almost perfect smile aside from his cooked front tooth. Thinking about it now with that incentive clearly tips the scale, providing him with a favorable result. I wordlessly pick up the things he couldn't manage to carry and wait for him to lead the way. "You don't talk much do you?" he chuckles giving me a sideways glance. "Not unless it's necessary" I say and continue to follow hoping I'll get this over with so I can get back on schedule.

"So...what's your major?" he says obviously trying to maintain a conversation with me. "Computer Engineering" I answer giving his as short of answers as possible. I'm not one for casual conversation, let alone conversation at all. Like I said, only when necessary. "I'm Jimin by the way, and if you couldn't guess already my major is music. Well, music and dance but my course load this semester is very music centric" I nod my head and he decides to keep rambling which seems to be something he's used to doing.

From the casual glances we're getting it seems like he's pretty well known in this department. "Hey Jimin you down to go grab some lunch in a sec?" a guy in a big group of people yells out. "Nah that's okay, I promised to buy y/n lunch for helping me out" he says motioning to me as best as he can with his hands full. "Oh...okay well have fun" the guy says and goes back to one of the many conversations going on over there. 

I turn my head and look back up at Jimin confused, "You could've just given me enough for the cafeteria and have gone with them" I say hoping to brush him off and go back to my solitude. "I'm not gonna buy you food from the cafeteria silly, let's go somewhere! There's a cool pizza place right outside of campus that I've been wanting to check out. You wanna go?" he asks asks and nods towards the classroom that we're meant to leave these things at. "I guess" I shrug not really caring at this point. Since my class doesn't start for another two hours I guess I could afford to go off campus to eat for a change, especially since it's free. 

As we make our way into the pizza place (creatively named Pizza Planet) we're greeted by a pretty big crowd but luckily we're able to find a table near the entrance right away. "Welcome in" someone yells letting us know they saw us come in and they'll be with us in a moment. "This place is pretty cool huh? He says referring to the theme that seems to be trendy these days. "Spaceships, nice" I say barely looking up while scanning the QR code to get the menu.

"Have you never watched the movie Toy Story?" he says, surprised that I don't have a better reaction to it. "No I'm not big on American movies or whatever. My family really only showed us media that was Korean or Japanese" I say hoping to show that I'm not interested on elaborating on the topic any further and luckily before he can say anything again our server comes to our table. 

"Welcome to Pizza Planet guys, what can I get you?" he says with a bright smile until his glance falls on me. For some reason his expression changes to that of annoyance and I'm slightly confused but not enough to comment on it. "Do you know what you want y/n?" Jimin asks me and I take a quick glance over the menu and settle on the most expensive item. It's a free meal so might as well milk it for all it's worth.

Jimin places his order and the server looks back down at me and asks if we wanted anything else to which Jimin denies. "You guys do student discounts though right?" he asks holding out his card and the server takes his eyes off of me to inspect his student ID and confirms his suspicions. 

Once he hands him back his student ID the server's gaze for some reason falls back on me. "Do you need to see my ID too?" I question suddenly weirded out by his glaring. "No" he says full of spite, pushing up the bridge of his glasses. "Okay well then you can go now, don't you have other people to serve?" I say shooing him off, to which he looks down at me with utter confusion and opts to just turn away to go put in our order instead of making an further discussion. 

"Are you okay?" Jimin asks, clearly aware of the weird tension between the server and I. "Yeah I'm fine, he was just acting really weird" I say and shake it off for the time being. "Do you know him?" he asks tilting his head at me. "Why would I know a random guy in a pizza place?" I say confused as to how this all connects in his head. "Well because he goes to school with us, I believe his name is Jungkook, I had a class with him last semester and he seemed like a cool guy or so I thought. Are you guys okay?" he asks clearly concerned, seeing my face contort into an uncomfortable realization when I finally put the pieces together. 

I guess I didn't recognize him because he was dressed so differently while sporting a hat and glasses. Looks like he clearly recognized me though, and he definitely wasn't happy to see me. I watch as Jungkook makes his way out of the shop as another server comes to relieve him. "Would you mind it if I went outside to go talk to him for a second?" I ask already standing up not really caring to wait for his permission. "Oh um yeah okay, I guess I'll just stay here" he says awkwardly while watching me walk out before I'm finally out of his view. 

Looking around I notice that there's a small alleyway between this pizza place and the next building over and I can see a puff of smoke coming out of it as well as hear someone's voice sounding like some sort of argument. I walk over and thankfully it's the exact person I've been looking for. "Hey can you get off the phone?" I say and he looks up glaring at me and he stops leaves a pause in the conversation happening before he tells the person on the phone that he has to go. "What do you want?" he says before taking a drag off of his cigarette. 

"We need to talk" I say seeing if he's open to it. "So talk" he says and purposefully blows smoke in my direction which leaves me having to wave away the smoke and clear my throat before I'm able to start. "I owe you an apology" I start off, "No shit you do" he mumbles under his breath. "Are you gonna let me talk or should I just go back inside?" I say getting short with him. "Yeah go back to your boyfriend, see if I care" he spits out and throws his cigarette on the floor to stomp it out before pushing himself up off the wall and making moves to walk off.

"He's not my boyfriend, in fact not that it's any of your business but we just met today and the only reason I'm here is because he offered me a free meal for helping him carry some stuff across campus" I say in one breath and open my mouth to continue "That doesn't sound like you" he interrupts laughing bitterly at my story. "Well it's the truth and you can ask him yourself if you really don't believe me" I say crossing my arm, becoming aware that this has now become my defensive stance of choice against him.

"No that's fine I believe you, I just find it adorable that you could be so food motivated. Helping out a perfectly good stranger and then making a trip with him off campus. That wasn't very smart of you y/n" he says taunting me. "Just because you're older than me doesn't mean that you get to talk down to me" I say getting even more irritated at this situation. "That's funny that you say that" he says getting closer until he's sure to tower over me, "because it looks like I have to love" he says trying to get some sort of reaction out of me. 

I'm not sure exactly what it could be I decide to take a step back but as I do I find myself slipping on something and I mentally brace for impact but it never comes, now seeming to notice a firm grasp on my waist instead of my back on the cold hard street. "Be careful there y/n, we wouldn't want to have an accident on our hands" he says amused at our forced proximity and my facial expressions because of it. I get back up on my feet and push him away after I've sure I regained my balance. "I apologized okay? Now stop being so hostile, it's annoying" I say while straightening out my clothes. "But I like seeing the faces you make when I'm annoying you" he says with a smirk. 

"What faces? I don't make any faces" I deny. "Why don't you go look in the mirror pretty, I'm sure you'll see why I like it so much" he says before walking past me. "Hey where are you going? Aren't you going to apologize too?" I call after him before he gets too far. "Sorry love, I've gotta go back to work, why don't we pick this up later?" he says sending me a wink before opening the door and walking inside. "But I don't want there to be a later" I say under my breath kicking the rocks that I had no doubt slipped on just moments ago. I shake myself out of whatever headspace he had me in and take a deep breath trying to calm myself down. 

I've never had a rush of so many emotions running through me before, and the only other times it has gotten close to this it seems like Jungkook has been the one to triggered them. I groan and make my way back inside as well and I sit back down at the table not making an effort to say a word to Jimin. "So how did it go? It seemed like he was pretty happy when he walked in" he says intrigued by our polar opposite returns with me being the one who looks upset now. "He's happy because he was able to irritate me and get a reaction out of me. Ugh I should've never went out there" I groan and take a drink of my water.

"Why did you end up going out there?" he questions, clearly interested in the story behind our weird behaviors. "I said some things that were probably interpreted as being mean, I'm not the kind of person who cares much about others but I'm adult enough to admit that what I said was out of line" I say rolling my eye irritated that I let him get the best of me time and time again, but for some reason I end up being the bad guy.

"I swear this man is going to put me in an early grave" I say and then speak of the devil Jungkook shows up with our order. "That's not very nice, are you already trying to be mean to me again" he pouts jokingly. "No but you are being rather rude listening in on people's conversations" I roll my eyes and go back to taking a drink of water. "It's not my fault that you're talking about me right in front of me. Anyways is there anything else I can get you guys?" he asks looking between the two of us.

"No I think we're all set" Jimin responds sending me a smile which I return with a nod. "What about you pretty? Do you need anything else from me?" Jungkook says leaning towards me and tucking my hair behind my ear to see my face better. To which I respond to by choking on my water while also spilling some on the table. "Shit y/n are you okay?" Jimin asks clearly concerned for my welfare. I cough a few times and send him a thumbs up trying to calm my coughs down. "I'll go get you guys some napkins" Jungkook chuckles walking off. 

"Man I swear guys like him think they can get away with anything just because they're more attractive than the average male" he says rolling his eyes at him and handing his napkins over to me. "Thanks" I say and clean up as best as I could while we wait for the rest of the napkins. "It's fine I'm over it" I say clearing my throat hopefully for the last time right as Jungkook returns with more napkins.

"Sorry guys I was just teasing, your meal's on me this time okay?" he says giving us both a charming smile. "You sure?" Jimin asks looking surprised as ever. "Yeah it's the least I could do for interrupting you guys and making y/n upset" he says but I can tell he's still teasing me even though he's behaving in front of Jimin. 

"Thank you so much" Jimin says giving him a thankful shallow bow. "It's fine don't mention it, also you can call me Hyung if you want to, I don't mind" Jungkook offers, clearly trying to get on Jimin's good side. This whole act he's putting on is ridiculous, I haven't known him for long but I can sure as hell tell when people are lying. "Okay, thank you Jungkook hyung" he says and smiles back at me. "You can call me Oppa if you want to y/n" he says offering it to me as well, waiting for me to take the bait. 

"Jungkook is just fine for me, I'll call you JK if you want me to, but that's it" I say not bothering to show any sort of respect and grace to the person who just bought my meal which is probably cold by now. "Aw come on just once?" he says mercilessly taunting me still. "Don't you ever get tired of being a pain in the ass?" I say finally fed up with all of his antics "Nope" he says popping the P at the end before leaning down to whisper in my ear "You look cute when you're feisty" he says making sure to blow on my neck again making me shiver slightly. 

I stand up abruptly and he straightens his posture and takes a step back giving me the tiniest bit of room to pass by. "Jimin I'm leaving if you want I'll wait for you outside so we can take the food back to campus" I say and make moves to leave as quickly as I can, not missing the way Jungkook chuckles at me on the way out. "Um yeah I'll be out in a second. Hyung do you think you could box this up for us?" he asks using the new term he had been encouraged to use. "Sure, see you around y/n" he says making sure I hear it before the door closes behind me.  

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[bonearenaofmyskull]

Hi! I love your Hannibal meta and it's such a joy to see you back. The ask about IWTV reminds me, would there be any chance that you might write the Good Omens meta you said you wouldn't do a few months back XD? Or some hints about what you were interested in talking about? I feel S2 added a bit more depth to the characters that hasn't been discussed enough (or I haven't delved into that fandom enough to see) and the Job story did get a tiny bit Hannibal-y with the god questioning and temptation

Thank you! Glad to be back.

No, I'm not qualified to write Good Omens meta. xD But I can give you ONE piece, the sum of my opinion, which is that the commentary about the finale (what I saw of it, at least) made the common fandom mistake of viewing the characters' actions through the ship instead of through the individual characters' personalities and values. They talk about Aziraphale not being ready for an overt relationship, or just frankly condemning him for his betrayal, or that both of them do not have good relationship skills, or the Metatron's manipulations, or idk, something about the coffee being drugged?

But while all these things are important (maybe not the coffee, idk what's up with that), the real issue that I haven't seen talked about is faith. (Not that I've researched it, so my apologies if this is all going to be not new because someone else covered it extensively, and I'm just not in the fandom so I didn't know.)

And not in faith each other but in God, or more specifically, in God's righteousness.

That's the purpose of the Job story in the narrative, to illustrate that difference in their worldviews. Aziraphale has come to the understanding that Heaven is operating in its own interests, but he still believes in God's goodness. Crowley...doesn't.

That's why Crowley can't go with him because that lack of faith means he doesn't believe that Aziraphale (or even the two of them together, if he were an angel again) could possibly set something right that has no righteousness at its core, while Aziraphale must go to right Heaven because what has been happening there is an abomination of God's goodness in his eyes.

Aziraphale was wrong when he thought that Crowley would take the Metatron's olive branch, but his error is so enormous because he can't wrap his head around how to Crowley, Heaven's iniquity is just a symptom of God's own, which Aziraphale just cannot accept. So he chooses to see it as a flaw in Crowley, instead of recognizing that Crowley's moral backbone is (apparently) greater even than God's.

So what Aziraphale is forgiving Crowley for is not the awkward kiss or anything he did wrong in their relationship. He's forgiving him for his lack of faith. And Aziraphale must go, he has to make Heaven worthy of regaining Crowley's faith, and he has to prove that God is worthy of Crowley's faith as well. He's got to save them all: he has to rescue Heaven from its iniquity, God and goodness and the world itself from the grip of Heaven, and, more than anything, he has to save Crowley from his unbelief, from living in that outer darkness that Aziraphale is really starting to see for the first time.

If Aziraphale can just do these miniscule few teensy tinesy itty bitty wee things, then Everything Will Be Okay.

How this will go in S3 --whether Aziraphale falls and Crowley rises, or something else--is going to be largely dependent on how the show decides to handle God's character. Whatever the powers of Heaven and Hell believe on this show, God Herself seems to be a Deist. She was notably absent in S2, and in S1 She was definitely treating creation like a spectator sport. I think the show is going to have to finally answer the question of whether or not the angels and demons are all carrying out God's Ineffable Plan through following it, or through failing to follow it. The fortunate fall, on a celestial scale, perhaps.

As that is revealed, just how benevolent God is should also be revealed, and I imagine that could have some significant bearing on how the Ineffable Husbands' relationship resolves. They're setting poor Aziraphale up for his own crisis of faith, ofc, and Crowley more than anyone knows just how that outer darkness feels. But they're also setting Aziraphale up to understand that the belief in goodness that he misplaced with God is a belief in goodness he can safely place with Crowley instead.

[hikennosabo]

#tristampparty day 8, episode 8: our home

okay i was very busy (read: distracted) today so i'm posting this late but LET'S GOOOO

let's start out with some psychic damage targeting me personally 👍 my heart hurts so much already

thinking about how both young vash and nai relate to food... they have opposite needs, but it must be an isolating experience for both of them. nai is different from vash and rem, vash is different from nai and other plants... they're both in between humans and plants without really belonging to either.

nai specifically, though... he doesn't seem happy that rem made him food, but it might be equally isolating if he was the only one who didn't get served food... so it's awkward either way. rem did the best she could.

what if i died right now

the geranium on the table... is it... i wonder... if rem put it there for tesla...

LOOK AT HIM HES SO HAPPY AND HE LOVES HIS MOM SO MUCH :((((((((

i don't know what it is but something about the footprints is getting to me, man. the way that nai's go on ahead of vash...

is it the composition maybe. nai's footprints leading down to the bottom of the frame... down... fallen angel... etc etc am i just making things up- no i'm right. i'm right.

brad is the one who noticed vash... even though he acted pretty hostile to him for a while after... he's the one who saved him... i wonder if that's some of the reason for his hostility? like if vash did turn out to be dangerous brad would have been the one responsible... idk

also brad is voiced by junichi suwabe my beloved

this has gotta be an orange original, right? we never learn how plants are made in the manga...

"sinners"... i've heard that word before... wait a sec...

here!! the EoM broadcast right at the start of episode 5!! what does it mean...

why would scientists call themselves Sinners, as like a formal(?) group name(??) is it because they know they're playing god by studying plants? i wonder about the radio program, too. here it could simply be referring to humanity as a whole, but then why the capital S? conrad is the one who ties this all together... the "team leader," huh...

"plant research," huh...

(insert "she should've been at the club" joke here)

much to think about. lying about nai being dead yes but. not the only thing he's keeping from them. "just one" more independent?

brad is so mean sometimes, lol... tbh i think they really nailed his personality. his role in the story and his relationship with vash are both very different than in the manga but he's still recognizably brad, and i think that's cool. it shows orange really understands the core of his character.

it's probably natural that this is the first question she asks, but it's also kind of mean... not on purpose ofc, but it probably hurts a lot for him to be asked that, especially now...

also vash isn't eating again. his unhealthy relationship with food... not eating as a form of self-harm... when we got reminded just at the beginning of this episode that it's something he needs to do. i remember reading a meta post a while back about his relationship with food but idk if i have it in me to try and find it right now...

once again glad i can watch this in hd so i can notice that vash covers his ears when luida says this hahahahahaha (<- in pain)

we see the one on the left the most so we need to look at the other family photos for a second. they're so cute what the heck... rem's big smile in the bottom right one... and i see both vash and nai are right-handed... *jots that down*

wasn't there a theory post about vash's number tally on the walls. i don't remember what it said.

she asked "who did this" so she knew it wasn't something like a computer error. Did She Know.

ohhh sister i'm so sorry but no they will not be

this is such a blink-and-you-miss-it, but brad shielding vash from this guy is really sweet. because as we've seen the other residents of the ship haven't exactly been nice to vash. brad's been mean too but he's just... a tsundere, really.

sorry this post lacks substance, there is probably a lot more to say but my brain just isn't working at full capacity and i need to go to bed

mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah. up until now the only clear, non-obstructed shots of nai's face were from when he was a little kid. he's still young here, and the shot itself is pretty dark, but here he is... the boy...

next episode is going to kill me dead! goodnight

[moonfurthetemmie]

ahem

i had a sudden burst of Idea and did. this.

some inspiration is taken from a friend who wrote a terrifying little bit about two particularly powerful spirits fusing. i don't know if i'm allowed to disclose which ones, because i don't think the one's creator has said anything about him outside of The Discord Server(TM), but. yes

(i'm mostly kidding about the 'idk if i can tell you who it was' bit; it is admittedly an excuse to not brain more words because i am Tired and spat this out in a couple of hours so i've used up my alloted braincell time for toight)

this is...one of many possible ways that one of my new fucked up little shits could've happened

Sophism

There was quite the crowd in the town square. Enough that they hardly needed anything more than hoods to cover their heads. Hushed murmuring and gasps of horror told them that, whatever was going on, it wasn’t good.

Nightmare could sense someone ahead of the crowd. Or…many someones? There was so much positivity and negativity that he couldn’t tell, no matter how hard he tried to focus on them.

They could hear yelling ahead. Angry yelling, for sure, though one was far more emotional than the other. The voices were familiar, but they couldn’t place them. They’d come here to have some fun, but it seemed that everyone in town was here. It would be hard to grab anyone without someone noticing. Even if that hadn’t been the case, the three were far too curious about what everyone was watching, now.

As they pushed through the crowd, the feeling that something was terribly wrong grew and grew.

Cross could swear she knew the least angry-sounding voice. Even as she racked her brain to figure out where she knew it from, the mere sound of it made her blood boil. It was getting clearer as they reached the front, though.

Error had noticed several odd noises that they couldn’t hear from the back of the crowd. As they got closer, she only became more confused. One sounded like woosh-ing sound effects put on sword swings in a video game. Another, much less frequent, was the sound of wood cracking; occasionally accompanied by a dull thunk.

The closer he got, the more obvious it was to Nightmare that there were two people in front of the crowd. Both furious, one far more hateful than the other. The hateful one had so many negative emotions, it was almost impossible to tell what any of the others were. But the other, aside from their fury, seemed perfectly content with…whatever was happening.

A few rows behind the front of the crowd, the two’s emotions suddenly become much, much stronger. Almost suffocating.

He realized who it was, as his very soul started to burn from how close he was.

Cross and Error, upon coming within range of the auras, realized what was happening only a split second after him. Against their better judgment, they continued pushing forward; almost shoving people out of the way now. 

They made it to the front just in time to watch a man with black hair use thick, slimy black tentacles slam his opponent, a man with orange-gold wings, into a tree. The force made the trunk crack and splinter, and yet the winged man stood. The black tendrils, made of pure negative magic, burned, dried out, and crumbled from touching such a concentrated source of positivity. But the winged man’s skin had begun to melt on contact. 

“...Oh, god.” Nightmare breathed. “It’s them.”

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” Obsidian snarled. He pulled his tentacles back, but clearly had no intentions of retreating. His shirt had been torn open, somehow. Or perhaps he just never bothered to button it in the first place.

“Neither do you, it would seem.” It had been a very, very long time since Nightmare had seen Dream angry. He suspected Obsidian’s aura of negativity had a part to play in that. He seemed to have lost his jacket somewhere, and had rolled up the sleeves of his nice dress shirt.

Obsidian’s hands crackled with electricity. “I’ve never been beaten in a fight, and I’m sure as hell not going to let the first time be to an overgrown chicken with a god complex!” 

Dream fluffed up his wings and readied his sword. Christ, when was the last time Nightmare had seen that thing in use? 

“Why do his arms look like that?” Cross whispered hoarsely. “And his wings! Holy shit, did Obsidian do that?”

Nightmare and Error had thought that it was sweat dripping from Dream’s arms. To their horror, they realized that it was his own skin. His wings, which were always shedding to begin with, was now dropping feathers in globs.

“Obsidian’s covered in burns, too,” Error pointed out. That, at least, the trio had noticed. Awful patches of sizzling skin, anywhere Dream had hit or touched him. There were several hand prints, some clearer than others, on Obsidian’s arms and chest. “I guess corruption can fuck with radiance just as much as radiance can fuck it up.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Dream hissed, which made the trio–and the rest of the crowd–step back. “I will not let you terrorize my multiverse as you do yours.”

“Bold words coming from a bastard who can’t even be bothered to do his own dirty work,” Obsidian sneered. “When was the last time you even used that thing?”

Dream’s eyes tightened. As he launched himself into the air, and the effects of his aura weakened with the distance, Nightmare wondered how much pain Dream was in. How long had this fight been going? And how long could Dream keep it up? 

Like a hawk after a hare, Dream dove for Obsidian, aiming right for his head.

At the same time, Obsidian sent a bolt of indigo lightning powerful enough to cause thunder at Dream.

There was a wet shink! sound that the three friends were very familiar with as Obsidian yelled in pain.

He had tried to wait until the last second to dodge, but Dream had still skewered him through the stomach. Dream’s entire body seemed to be melting, now; the lightning clearly hadn’t missed its mark, either.

Obsidian’s eyes burned with a fury stronger than any single person should’ve been capable of. Before Dream could react, Obsidian grabbed Dream’s arm and wrapped his tentacles around the radiant’s neck. 

“You think you’re so clever?” Obsidian snarled. Steam rose from his hand and tendrils. “I’m dragging you down to hell with me, you son of a bitch!”

Dream, gasping for air, let go of his sword and tried to ascend, to pull himself out of Obsidian’s grasp, but Obsidian yanked on his arm and he fell to his knees. The crowd started to panic. Yells of alarm and calls to get help, but most of them seemed as frozen as the Meme Squad was.

Nightmare couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How could Dream have let this arrogant bastard kill him? Was this a nightmare? Was this how they were going to die?

For a split second, Dream caught Nightmare’s gaze. His eyes widened. Nightmare sensed surprise and a twinge of guilt before Obsidian grabbed Dream’s shoulder and pushed him to the ground.

Horrible burns were spreading all across Obsidian’s body. Dream was melting faster than ice cream in a microwave. 

Am I going to melt, too? Or am I just going to drop dead? Christ, I hope I just drop dead. Nightmare’s heart pounded in his chest. He felt sick. Was it starting? Was he dying? Or was it just fear?

As Dream and Obsidian’s bodies stilled, Cross and Error enveloped Nightmare in a hug. 

They didn’t say anything; they didn’t know what they would say. But they didn’t need to say anything. Nightmare gripped their arms, and the three of them closed their eyes.

…But nothing happened, except for the crowd’s murmuring going silent.

Nightmare realized that the crowd’s silence wasn’t from grief. And, at the same time, that Dream and Obsidian’s auras hadn’t faded.

In fact, they almost seemed to be…

Nightmare’s eyes snapped open.

The steam that had come from the contact of two so violently opposing magics, rather than dissipating, had coalesced into a cloud of fog around the bodies. It became thicker, and thicker, and Nightmare could see both of them start to change.

Obsidian’s skin flaked off like ash, but rather than sinew and muscle there was only a black, iridescent sludge. Dream’s skin melted off entirely, revealing a ball of orange-yellow light.

“Guys.”

Error and Cross hardly heard Nightmare’s horrified whisper, but they looked up in time to see the pure radiance and corruption begin to move before the fog completely obscured them.

“Wh…What the hell was that?” Someone in the crowd said, their voice shaking. 

“Maybe…maybe that’s just what happens when spirits like them die?” Someone else said, though they didn’t sound very sure.

“No.” Nightmare’s voice was hoarse. He didn’t even notice the crowd’s terror at his presence; his eyes were fixed on the cloud before them, and the auras within. “They’re…They’re not dead. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but they’re not dead.”

“What do you mean they’re not dead?” Someone demanded. “You saw that too, didn’t you? They don’t even have bodies anymore!”

Nightmare grip on his friends’ arms tightened. “No. If me or Dream dies, the other one dies, too. But I’m still here. And their auras haven’t faded. It…It almost feels like they’re-”

A strangled gasp came from the fog. Everyone jumped back, except for Nightmare, who’s horror and terror had frozen him in place.

“...Fusing.”

The fog quickly faded. Standing where Dream and Obsidian’s bodies had been was an odd man with brown hair, and wings of orange light with indigo feathers. His eyes were mostly white, but those in the front of the crowd could see the hints of orange in one, and indigo in another.

The man looked like he’d just woken up from a nightmare. His hands shook. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion. He slowly looked down at his own hands.

“Oh, god.” Nightmare’s voice was weak. “They did.”

“That- that can happen?!” Cross whispered, loudly. 

“Fucking apparently!”

“I think this is our cue to leave,” Error said. Despite the casual tone she used, her hands trembled as she made a portal. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Cross and Nightmare followed her through it. 

Before it closed behind them, they heard a familiar-yet-not voice; confused and scared.

“Why…?”

[channelworldbluez]

Fucking Raw Shit about My Feelings and my Girlfriend that ain’t no one gonna Read pt. I

(Sorry for any errors)

Not too be all “I Love My Girlfriend so much” but I feel like the more time we’ve spent together, out and about on dates and doing our own thing, the more closer I feel to her. It’s always the little things I appreciate and notice, it’s the normal-as-shit activities we do like for example:

Friday we go to her eye exam. We get there courtesy of insurance paid ride share(shout out to them) and we arrive a bit early so we decide to kick it. So I’m just like “okay, I’m just happy to be here I’m just be a good girlfriend ” and you know what this woman does? She’s all like I have a surprise for you and I’m like ?????

And proceeds to lead me to a store(mind you the optometrist is located in a plaza along side various stores and a Publix) and it’s some bakery that sells like small edibles like pastries along with teddy bears and all types of cute stuff. Basically it’s where you go if you want to get your loved one a tasty ass gift okay. So anyways we go in there and she’s like “you know how you’ve always wanted to try chocolate covered strawberries? 🥰” and I was like yeah I’ve mentioned that like once??! I didn’t think you were like paying attention lol but she bought me 6 chocolate covered strawberries covered in a nice red gift box. And get this, the lady in the store added in an extra two! So like really 8. I was surprised because no one’s ever like done this for me before and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy and shit inside idk how to express it lol but it was very heartfelt for me

Another moment was when we were finally at the eye exam, I helped her fill out her forms and stuff and then we wait in the waiting area which was boring as shit but what made it less boring was her letting me lay my head on her chest so she could stroke my hair and beard while I got to play with her joystick for her chair(obviously it wasn’t on) and idk it’s a sensory thing okay I like pushing on it.

An annoying that happened when we were at the appointment was how the nurse would talk to ME instead of her and it’s like she’s right fucking there talk to her this isn’t my appointment it’s hers she can speak for herself for fucks sake. But, whatever I know it comes with the territory.

I also think I gotta hand on properly helping out when assisting her out and into her wheelchair, so I’m proud of that because I want it to be comfortable for the both of us.

I also learned that her eyes are perfect 20/20 but also that because of her CP her brain only prioritizes on seeing out of one of her eyes. I’m still tryna wrapped my head around this. I thought it was interesting af though.

Also I got to watch her eat again I promise I’m not a psychopath I just love watching her enjoy herself okay she always laughs and asks “why do I do that?” But I can’t express it good enough in words I just love her okay everything she does is like beautiful to me idc idc

How she bought me the vape was by accident and wasn’t planned I dead ass just wanted to look inside the cool ass vape store just to browse and see what’s up and see the pretty colors but she was like “I know you like your nicotine baby and I’ve wanted to buy you something .” And I’m like “you really don’t have to 🥺” and she’s like “nigga let me buy you something!” 😤 and I’m like bet okay. I’m just not used to this kinda treatment

She also bought herself one of those vape pens with Sativa in it but don’t ask me about that shit because I don’t know…I guess it gets you high???

I love the walks we take around her neighborhood but don’t tell her I said this but I HATE crossing the intersections with her, it makes me anxious. Why? You ask…because as someone who has almost been hit TWICE by a car when crossing the street when I HAD the right of way, gives me flashbacks and idk I just want her to be safe but also I’m willing to get in front of any car for her always at any given moment

She also put me on to cheesecake. I’m not gonna lie I was giving cheesecake a bad name without even trying it but I take back everything I said(it was so fucking good I want more)

I hate leaving her ya know. Like saying my goodbyes and kissing her and holding her. I can’t wait for the days when I never have to leave….

[dinoplantsghost]

pairing: Tom Riddle x fem! original character

warning(s): tom is a warning in itself, 1940s: discussion and mention of World War 2, possible time-accurate prejudice, mentions of death & su!c!de, violence, mild bodily horror

word count: ~3040

Disclaimer: I have a huge google doc that holds all of my drafts and I'm quite literally just copypasting everything, so if there are any typos/errors, no there isn't!! :)

-- genuinely so horrible at tags and titles bro my bad 💀💀 (some silly anon person was complaining abt my tags but literally idk what they were mad abt specifically because they didn't tell me so womp womp ig gotta be more specific)

Chapter List

Friends [4]

Blinding white cursed Saoirse’s eyes as she gained consciousness, her throat dry and her limbs light. She failed to sit up in the creaky hospital bed that scratched at her skin, the paper already littered with holes and snags. 

“Maybe it’s best to lay back down,” a voice said. “Madam Ruth just went to check up on some first year; said he broke his leg on the stairs or something. I think it’s quite funny.” 

With a dull pulse in her skull, Saoirse looked to the side to see a boy holding her satchel in his lap, the inner color of his sleeves a striking Ravenclaw blue. The pink patches on his cheeks were prominent on his pale skin, faint copper flecks just below his cheekbones and divots reminiscent of a crescent moon marked his flesh. “Professor Merrythought told me to bring your belongings to the hospital wing, but I decided to stay because you looked lonely.” 

“Who are you?” Saoirse asked, coughing as she squinted her eyes at the boy with eyes similar to hers, covered by the disheveled mop of blond on his head. 

His lashes fluttered, crows feet showing as he smiled at her. “I’m Tracy Mayfield, a fifth year student in Ravenclaw. It’s nice to meet you.” 

The shutters to the left of Saoirse slid open, a scrunched and wrinkled face of an older woman standing by the girl’s bedside. “Boy, you should have told me she woke up a long time ago.” She huffed. Madam Ruth placed a cold hand under Saoirse’s chin, forcing her to look into her gaze. “How do you feel, dear? Any headaches, difficulty breathing?” 

The matron handed Saoirse a glass of water, then bent down to finger at the rough gauze that covered the girl’s neck. “How long have I been out?” Saoirse asked, handing the now empty glass to the boy beside her. 

Tracy replied, “You’ve been unconscious for a few classes, lunch is almost over, actually.” 

Saoirse flinched at the sudden flush of cold on her neck, relaxing when she realized the nurse was only putting ointment on her neck. “I don’t understand how you children can be so reckless,” the lady scolded. “If I ever see that boy who did this to you, I’ll be having a stern conversation with him.” 

“Speaking of Riddle,” Tracy continued. “What happened during the duel? He kind of ran away with his boy party after the smoke went away.” 

Ignoring the way Madam Ruth badmouthed the mention of smoke, Saoirse shrugged. “He was asking me about something Merrythought told me, but in reality she never really said much; she just gave me permission to use spells I’ve been working on for a while. In fact, I think that Riddle boy should come to the hospital wing himself.” 

“Why, girl, what did you do to him?” The Matron pressed, redressing Saoirse’s neck. 

“Well, the spell I used is supposed to—” 

The double doors swung open, hitting the walls with a loud crash as audible leather hit the tile floor. As the footsteps got closer, a boy with hardened eyes and a set jaw stiffly made his way to the three by Saoirse’s hospital bed, ignoring the way the boy next to the foreigner leaned in to whisper in her ear. “My skin is rotting,” he said simply, a breath leaving his nostrils as he watched the way the Matron’s eyes bulged, her words sputtering when she strode around the rickety bed to pull Tom by his shirt. 

“What do you mean your skin is rotting,” she yelled. “You idiot children—someone is going to be killed one day, mark my words!” 

As Madam Ruth walked away with the Slytherin boy in her grasp, Tracy dropped Saoirse’s bag on the floor, scooching his metal chair closer as he propped his arms on her bedside. “What did you do?” He asked; a question Saoirse had heard for what seemed like the umpteenth time. She smiled, a twinkle in her eye as she signaled the boy to pull a journal from her satchel. On the edge of his seat, Tracy waited as Saoirse flipped through the messy pages, the parchment stained and its edges tattered and distressed. Ink blots covered the papers as well as an unknown language in the male’s eyes, scribbles of black running across the journal’s entirety. 

“My spell worked,” she chirped, stopping at one page with a dry piece of something pressed into the material. “My Rotting-Flesh Curse.” 

Looking at the page closer, Tracy finally saw the little holes in the unknown piece on the tree pulp, discoloration everywhere on its gray, fleshy surface. “Is that dry skin?” He asked, raising a finger to poke at the dead slice. 

Saoirse nodded, her own finger trailing to the paragraph below the large characters at the top of the page. 

‘𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆-𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒎. 𝑰𝒇 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉; 𝒊𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆. 𝑶𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔.’

“So, Riddle is dying?” Tracy gasped, glancing back up to see the matron and the snake walking back to Saoirse’s bedside, Tom’s left shoulder fully exposed. 

“Saoirse,” Madam Ruth said. “What you did to this boy is unacceptable; I don’t care if he choked you. This boy is dying and you need to heal him right away.” 

The girl frowned, her brows furrowing as she saw the tiniest quirk of Riddle’s lip twitch before going back to the usual pout on his face. The matron handed Saoirse a strength potion and a general healing potion. Downing both of them back-to-back, she smacked her lips in disgust as she pulled her wand out from its place on her forearm. She sat up straight, raising her right arm before flicking the tip around. Reminiscent to the Flagrate charm, the three watched with bated breath as strokes of blue formed four characters in a column before melting together and gently settling down on Tom’s skin. From his bicep to his jawline, sparkles of light blue glistened, the color of his surrounding flesh becoming more flush as his skin mended right in front of his eyes. As the wound healed, a faint yet noticeable discoloration was left, a reminder of what she had done to him; how she had almost killed him effortlessly. 

“Was that the counter curse?” Tracy muttered, to which Saoirse nodded, leaning back on the smashed pillows behind her. She muttered the name of the spell, her voice significantly honeyed and matured than when speaking English. Tracy crossed his arms, attempting to repeat Saoirse, only to fail miserably and settle on the phrase ‘chewy necktie.’ “Japanese is hard…” 

Saoirse ignored him, sliding under the thin covers as she tossed to her side, her back facing Tracy as she forced herself to fall asleep.

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

Saoirse could not sleep no matter how hard she tried. Tracy, for whatever reason, allowed himself to stay in the hospital wing with her, running his mouth on and on until Saoirse threw a pillow in his face. 

The moment Saoirse healed him, Tom left in a haste. It didn’t matter to her, though; that Riddle boy wasn’t of much interest to her. Maybe the spell she used was too harsh; maybe she could have used something more simple, but she was proud of her results nonetheless. She had never used it on a human before, only having access to rats and other small animals like toads or fish. Considering how fast his skin deteriorated his mind wasn’t all that strong; she assumed he was panicking the moment he saw the injury. 

“So, what’s Japan like?” Tracy swiveled his head on his neck, unaware of the way Saoirse’s cheek twitched the moment his nasally tones filled her ears. 

“It’s awfully hot, at least on Iwo Jima,” she started. “And it’s windy almost all the time. I never knew October could be so cold; it’s usually scorching this time of year.” 

“Really,” Tracy wowed. “That’s so cool! What kind of animals do you have in Japan? Oh, and what do you wear? Is it true that Japan—” 

“Mayfield,” Saoirse coughed. “Please stop talking.” 

The boy pouted, his shoulders sagging as he fiddled with his sleeves. “Do you want me to leave?” He whispered. The girl nodded, not noticing the way Tracy’s nose scrunched as he stood up from the metal, rusty chair, his footsteps echoing as he got further away from Saoirse. 

She never had anyone force themself to stay around her for so long before. Usually that only happened when someone was dared to—though, she was never bullied; it was common for students to make bets and commit other mischievous activities regarding others. 

One girl—her name irrelevant—had been dared to befriend a boy in exchange for a chocolate, one that Saoirse herself loved. The brand was founded in recent years, Meiji, an homage to the beloved emperor, and had been gaining major popularity on the island despite being a brand from the non-magical population; the jyōjin. 

Turns out, the boy had actually liked the girl, and her friends were attempting to be matchmakers, but eventually it was revealed that the girl didn’t like him at all. It was a huge debacle; she had slapped the boy in the middle of the courtyard, yelling at him about how she wished her friends never dared her to talk to him, how that stupid piece of chocolate wasn’t worth the hours being in his presence. In the end, the boy took his life, embarrassed by the girl’s dramatic spectacle. 

Of course, it didn’t surprise Saoirse that the superintendents and the High Priestess did not do a thing about it; the girl was given a few weeks of punishment until her father wrote to the staff, and she was let go with a mere slap on the wrist after the fact. Saoirse always thought about that day, the day the boy died. He had hung himself in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by precious stones that so many had ironically died to get their hands on. 

Nonetheless, that didn’t go without saying that Tracy’s presence wasn’t appreciated. Saoirse’s head hurt, yes, but it was dull pain, one she could cope with. She was sure to get used to the boy soon enough; she doubted he was going away any time soon.

By a half-hour past 19:00, Tracy had unsurprisingly returned to the Hospital Wing, but with two more people. Days like this made Saoirse regret ever killing Himiko, she thought. People drained her energy. Behind the Ravenclaw was a boy and a girl, one with yellow lining in their robe and the other with red, respectively. The boy, hair fluffy and in complete disarray, was much taller than the other two. There were very noticeable scruffles of coarse hair along the sides of his face; Saoirse couldn’t tell if it suited him or not. Beside him was a girl in stark contrast; she was very short, similar to Himiko’s height. Her hair was a light brown, fluffier than any hair she had ever seen. 

“Why did you bring monkeys to harass me with?” The hospitalized girl sighed, a noticeable hump in her back as she sat up slowly under the light blue blanket—the one that barely kept her warm. 

Tracy only laughed, waving a hand as he sat back down in the chair he was once in hours ago, a plate of hot food in another hand that was set down near the girl. “You’re funny!” 

The other two dragged chairs next to him, sitting by Saoirse’s bedside. Tracy leaned in his seat, pointing to the boy to say, “This is Eugene,” he pointed to the girl, “and this is Ava-Lynn. They’re my friends, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Ava-Lynn, as Tracy named her, crossed her legs and lifted a manicured hand in greetings while Eugene only raised his eyebrows; his mind elsewhere. 

Saoirse blinked before looking back to the blond boy. “Why did you bring them here?” She asked. 

“Well, I thought you were lonely; you weren’t used to me talking your ear off. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s not like I can kick you three out.” She huffed.

“You don’t want to kick us out anyways, right? Hopefully not…” 

Saoirse shrugged, picking the warm plate up to put in her lap. The foreigner was getting used to the food in Hogwarts. Compared to the food she was accustomed with, it was rather bland. There were a lot of carbs in their diet. “Did they even want to come here?” She hummed, shoving the fork in her mouth. 

Tracy turned, whipping his head around to face his two friends who sat further away from the girl. “I didn’t drag you guys here, did I?” 

The other boy—Saoirse already forgot his name—shook his head, his hair moving along with his movements. “No,” he said, his voice low and his accent American. “I wanted to hear about the new girl; her country bombed mine last year, after all.” 

The girl beside him slapped his bicep, an offended look on her tan face and a sloppy, crooked grin on his. “You can’t say that,” she yelled. “She probably didn’t know about it, you dolt.” 

Saoirse interjected. “I did know about it; though Japan wasn’t very proud of how it failed. But it doesn’t concern me, really. Mahoutokoro doesn’t have  jyōjin in its population—Muggleborns.”

The boy only shrugged, his head flopping to rest on the shoulder of the girl beside him. “I’m really sorry about him,” she waved. “He’s usually more shy when meeting new people; I don’t know what’s up with him today.” 

The following half-hour was filled with idle chatter, with Tracy carrying the majority of the conversation. Ava-Lynn introduced herself as an immigrant from Spain. Her parents were low on money and with the war going on, as well as being in-between the polarizing Germanophiles and Anglophiles, her family was aligned with the United States. So, they fled the country. Other countries right of Spain on the map were out of the question, being so close to the bloodshed that only got worse deeper in the east. The de la Rosas needed to go west. Her family settled in Scotland a couple years back, long before Ava-Lynn obtained her letter from Hogwarts. 

“You’re a Muggleborn, then?” Saoirse asked, her legs folding as she sat tailor-fashion. 

The Spanish girl nodded, a small smile on her plush lips. “You mentioned Mahoutokoro doesn’t accept Muggleborns, yes? Why is that?”

“From my understanding there’s never been any instance of a Muggleborn before; many are usually a Pureblood or a Halfbreed.” 

“And what are you?” Asked Eugene. 

“I’m a Pureblood.” 

“What’s your last name, then? Purebloods are usually famous for their lineage, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Saoirse nodded. “But I can’t say; my mother and father are sticklers for secrecy and being overly cautious.” 

“But they’re not here, just say it,” Eugene scoffed. 

“It would be rude of me to.”  

The boy sighed, “Lame.” He stood up from his chair, dusting imaginary dust off his trousers. “Well, I’m off to sleep; can’t handle being in this infirmary any longer.” He walked off, a slight sway in his steps as he disappeared behind the tall and dark wooden doors of the Hospital Wing. 

Ava-Lynn stood up as well, her eyes bright yet tired as she said, “I should be going to bed too. It was nice meeting you, Saoirse. Linda noche, que descanse.” 

Once the girl left, Tracy and Saoirse were left alone once more, before the boy spoke, “It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it?” 

Saoirse nodded, a flutter of her lip catching his eye. “Mn, I suppose so.” 

Saoirse could not sleep no matter how hard she tried. Tracy, for whatever reason, allowed himself to stay in the hospital wing with her, running his mouth on and on until Saoirse threw a pillow in his face. 

The moment Saoirse healed him, Tom left in a haste. It didn’t matter to her, though; that Riddle boy wasn’t of much interest to her. Maybe the spell she used was too harsh; maybe she could have used something more simple, but she was proud of her results nonetheless. She had never used it on a human before, only having access to rats and other small animals like toads or fish. Considering how fast his skin deteriorated his mind wasn’t all that strong; she assumed he was panicking the moment he saw the injury. 

“So, what’s Japan like?” Tracy swiveled his head on his neck, unaware of the way Saoirse’s cheek twitched the moment his nasally tones filled her ears. 

“It’s awfully hot, at least on Iwo Jima,” she started. “And it’s windy almost all the time. I never knew October could be so cold; it’s usually scorching this time of year.” 

“Really,” Tracy wowed. “That’s so cool! What kind of animals do you have in Japan? Oh, and what do you wear? Is it true that Japan—” 

“Mayfield,” Saoirse coughed. “Please stop talking.” 

The boy pouted, his shoulders sagging as he fiddled with his sleeves. “Do you want me to leave?” He whispered. The girl nodded, not noticing the way Tracy’s nose scrunched as he stood up from the metal, rusty chair, his footsteps echoing as he got further away from Saoirse. 

She never had anyone force themself to stay around her for so long before. Usually that only happened when someone was dared to—though, she was never bullied; it was common for students to make bets and commit other mischievous activities regarding others. 

One girl—her name irrelevant—had been dared to befriend a boy in exchange for a chocolate, one that Saoirse herself loved. The brand was founded in recent years, Meiji, an homage to the beloved emperor, and had been gaining major popularity on the island despite being a brand from the non-magical population; the jyōjin. 

Turns out, the boy had actually liked the girl, and her friends were attempting to be matchmakers, but eventually it was revealed that the girl didn’t like him at all. It was a huge debacle; she had slapped the boy in the middle of the courtyard, yelling at him about how she wished her friends never dared her to talk to him, how that stupid piece of chocolate wasn’t worth the hours being in his presence. In the end, the boy took his life, embarrassed by the girl’s dramatic spectacle. 

Of course, it didn’t surprise Saoirse that the superintendents and the High Priestess did not do a thing about it; the girl was given a few weeks of punishment until her father wrote to the staff, and she was let go with a mere slap on the wrist after the fact. Saoirse always thought about that day, the day the boy died. He had hung himself in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by precious stones that so many had ironically died to get their hands on. 

Nonetheless, that didn’t go without saying that Tracy’s presence wasn’t appreciated. Saoirse’s head hurt, yes, but it was dull pain, one she could cope with. She was sure to get used to the boy soon enough; she doubted he was going away any time soon.

By a half-hour past 19:00, Tracy had unsurprisingly returned to the Hospital Wing, but with two more people. Days like this made Saoirse regret ever killing Himiko, she thought. People drained her energy. Behind the Ravenclaw was a boy and a girl, one with yellow lining in their robe and the other with red, respectively. The boy, hair fluffy and in complete disarray, was much taller than the other two. There were very noticeable scruffles of coarse hair along the sides of his face; Saoirse couldn’t tell if it suited him or not. Beside him was a girl in stark contrast; she was very short, similar to Himiko’s height. Her hair was a light brown, fluffier than any hair she had ever seen. 

“Why did you bring monkeys to harass me with?” The hospitalized girl sighed, a noticeable hump in her back as she sat up slowly under the light blue blanket—the one that barely kept her warm. 

Tracy only laughed, waving a hand as he sat back down in the chair he was once in hours ago, a plate of hot food in another hand that was set down near the girl. “You’re funny!” 

The other two dragged chairs next to him, sitting by Saoirse’s bedside. Tracy leaned in his seat, pointing to the boy to say, “This is Eugene,” he pointed to the girl, “and this is Ava-Lynn. They’re my friends, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Ava-Lynn, as Tracy named her, crossed her legs and lifted a manicured hand in greetings while Eugene only raised his eyebrows; his mind elsewhere. 

Saoirse blinked before looking back to the blond boy. “Why did you bring them here?” She asked. 

“Well, I thought you were lonely; you weren’t used to me talking your ear off. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s not like I can kick you three out.” She huffed.

“You don’t want to kick us out anyways, right? Hopefully not…” 

Saoirse shrugged, picking the warm plate up to put in her lap. The foreigner was getting used to the food in Hogwarts. Compared to the food she was accustomed with, it was rather bland. There were a lot of carbs in their diet. “Did they even want to come here?” She hummed, shoving the fork in her mouth. 

Tracy turned, whipping his head around to face his two friends who sat further away from the girl. “I didn’t drag you guys here, did I?” 

The other boy—Saoirse already forgot his name—shook his head, his hair moving along with his movements. “No,” he said, his voice low and his accent American. “I wanted to hear about the new girl; her country bombed mine last year, after all.” 

The girl beside him slapped his bicep, an offended look on her tan face and a sloppy, crooked grin on his. “You can’t say that,” she yelled. “She probably didn’t know about it, you dolt.” 

Saoirse interjected. “I did know about it; though Japan wasn’t very proud of how it failed. But it doesn’t concern me, really. Mahoutokoro doesn’t have  jyōjin in its population—Muggleborns.”

The boy only shrugged, his head flopping to rest on the shoulder of the girl beside him. “I’m really sorry about him,” she waved. “He’s usually more shy when meeting new people; I don’t know what’s up with him today.” 

The following half-hour was filled with idle chatter, with Tracy carrying the majority of the conversation. Ava-Lynn introduced herself as an immigrant from Spain. Her parents were low on money and with the war going on, as well as being in-between the polarizing Germanophiles and Anglophiles, her family was aligned with the United States. So, they fled the country. Other countries right of Spain on the map were out of the question, being so close to the bloodshed that only got worse deeper in the east. The de la Rosas needed to go west. Her family settled in Scotland a couple years back, long before Ava-Lynn obtained her letter from Hogwarts. 

“You’re a Muggleborn, then?” Saoirse asked, her legs folding as she sat tailor-fashion. 

The Spanish girl nodded, a small smile on her plush lips. “You mentioned Mahoutokoro doesn’t accept Muggleborns, yes? Why is that?”

“From my understanding there’s never been any instance of a Muggleborn before; many are usually a Pureblood or a Halfbreed.” 

“And what are you?” Asked Eugene. 

“I’m a Pureblood.” 

“What’s your last name, then? Purebloods are usually famous for their lineage, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Saoirse nodded. “But I can’t say; my mother and father are sticklers for secrecy and being overly cautious.” 

“But they’re not here, just say it,” Eugene scoffed. 

“It would be rude of me to.”  

The boy sighed, “Lame.” He stood up from his chair, dusting imaginary dust off his trousers. “Well, I’m off to sleep; can’t handle being in this infirmary any longer.” He walked off, a slight sway in his steps as he disappeared behind the tall and dark wooden doors of the Hospital Wing. 

Ava-Lynn stood up as well, her eyes bright yet tired as she said, “I should be going to bed too. It was nice meeting you, Saoirse. Linda noche, que descanse.” 

Once the girl left, Tracy and Saoirse were left alone once more, before the boy spoke, “It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it?” 

Saoirse nodded, a flutter of her lip catching his eye. “Mn, I suppose so.” 

Saoirse could not sleep no matter how hard she tried. Tracy, for whatever reason, allowed himself to stay in the hospital wing with her, running his mouth on and on until Saoirse threw a pillow in his face. 

The moment Saoirse healed him, Tom left in a haste. It didn’t matter to her, though; that Riddle boy wasn’t of much interest to her. Maybe the spell she used was too harsh; maybe she could have used something more simple, but she was proud of her results nonetheless. She had never used it on a human before, only having access to rats and other small animals like toads or fish. Considering how fast his skin deteriorated his mind wasn’t all that strong; she assumed he was panicking the moment he saw the injury. 

“So, what’s Japan like?” Tracy swiveled his head on his neck, unaware of the way Saoirse’s cheek twitched the moment his nasally tones filled her ears. 

“It’s awfully hot, at least on Iwo Jima,” she started. “And it’s windy almost all the time. I never knew October could be so cold; it’s usually scorching this time of year.” 

“Really,” Tracy wowed. “That’s so cool! What kind of animals do you have in Japan? Oh, and what do you wear? Is it true that Japan—” 

“Mayfield,” Saoirse coughed. “Please stop talking.” 

The boy pouted, his shoulders sagging as he fiddled with his sleeves. “Do you want me to leave?” He whispered. The girl nodded, not noticing the way Tracy’s nose scrunched as he stood up from the metal, rusty chair, his footsteps echoing as he got further away from Saoirse. 

She never had anyone force themself to stay around her for so long before. Usually that only happened when someone was dared to—though, she was never bullied; it was common for students to make bets and commit other mischievous activities regarding others. 

One girl—her name irrelevant—had been dared to befriend a boy in exchange for a chocolate, one that Saoirse herself loved. The brand was founded in recent years, Meiji, an homage to the beloved emperor, and had been gaining major popularity on the island despite being a brand from the non-magical population; the jyōjin. 

Turns out, the boy had actually liked the girl, and her friends were attempting to be matchmakers, but eventually it was revealed that the girl didn’t like him at all. It was a huge debacle; she had slapped the boy in the middle of the courtyard, yelling at him about how she wished her friends never dared her to talk to him, how that stupid piece of chocolate wasn’t worth the hours being in his presence. In the end, the boy took his life, embarrassed by the girl’s dramatic spectacle. 

Of course, it didn’t surprise Saoirse that the superintendents and the High Priestess did not do a thing about it; the girl was given a few weeks of punishment until her father wrote to the staff, and she was let go with a mere slap on the wrist after the fact. Saoirse always thought about that day, the day the boy died. He had hung himself in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by precious stones that so many had ironically died to get their hands on. 

Nonetheless, that didn’t go without saying that Tracy’s presence wasn’t appreciated. Saoirse’s head hurt, yes, but it was dull pain, one she could cope with. She was sure to get used to the boy soon enough; she doubted he was going away any time soon.

By a half-hour past 19:00, Tracy had unsurprisingly returned to the Hospital Wing, but with two more people. Days like this made Saoirse regret ever killing Himiko, she thought. People drained her energy. Behind the Ravenclaw was a boy and a girl, one with yellow lining in their robe and the other with red, respectively. The boy, hair fluffy and in complete disarray, was much taller than the other two. There were very noticeable scruffles of coarse hair along the sides of his face; Saoirse couldn’t tell if it suited him or not. Beside him was a girl in stark contrast; she was very short, similar to Himiko’s height. Her hair was a light brown, fluffier than any hair she had ever seen. 

“Why did you bring monkeys to harass me with?” The hospitalized girl sighed, a noticeable hump in her back as she sat up slowly under the light blue blanket—the one that barely kept her warm. 

Tracy only laughed, waving a hand as he sat back down in the chair he was once in hours ago, a plate of hot food in another hand that was set down near the girl. “You’re funny!” 

The other two dragged chairs next to him, sitting by Saoirse’s bedside. Tracy leaned in his seat, pointing to the boy to say, “This is Eugene,” he pointed to the girl, “and this is Ava-Lynn. They’re my friends, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Ava-Lynn, as Tracy named her, crossed her legs and lifted a manicured hand in greetings while Eugene only raised his eyebrows; his mind elsewhere. 

Saoirse blinked before looking back to the blond boy. “Why did you bring them here?” She asked. 

“Well, I thought you were lonely; you weren’t used to me talking your ear off. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s not like I can kick you three out.” She huffed.

“You don’t want to kick us out anyways, right? Hopefully not…” 

Saoirse shrugged, picking the warm plate up to put in her lap. The foreigner was getting used to the food in Hogwarts. Compared to the food she was accustomed with, it was rather bland. There were a lot of carbs in their diet. “Did they even want to come here?” She hummed, shoving the fork in her mouth. 

Tracy turned, whipping his head around to face his two friends who sat further away from the girl. “I didn’t drag you guys here, did I?” 

The other boy—Saoirse already forgot his name—shook his head, his hair moving along with his movements. “No,” he said, his voice low and his accent American. “I wanted to hear about the new girl; her country bombed mine last year, after all.” 

The girl beside him slapped his bicep, an offended look on her tan face and a sloppy, crooked grin on his. “You can’t say that,” she yelled. “She probably didn’t know about it, you dolt.” 

Saoirse interjected. “I did know about it; though Japan wasn’t very proud of how it failed. But it doesn’t concern me, really. Mahoutokoro doesn’t have  jyōjin in its population—Muggleborns.”

The boy only shrugged, his head flopping to rest on the shoulder of the girl beside him. “I’m really sorry about him,” she waved. “He’s usually more shy when meeting new people; I don’t know what’s up with him today.” 

The following half-hour was filled with idle chatter, with Tracy carrying the majority of the conversation. Ava-Lynn introduced herself as an immigrant from Spain. Her parents were low on money and with the war going on, as well as being in-between the polarizing Germanophiles and Anglophiles, her family was aligned with the United States. So, they fled the country. Other countries right of Spain on the map were out of the question, being so close to the bloodshed that only got worse deeper in the east. The de la Rosas needed to go west. Her family settled in Scotland a couple years back, long before Ava-Lynn obtained her letter from Hogwarts. 

“You’re a Muggleborn, then?” Saoirse asked, her legs folding as she sat tailor-fashion. 

The Spanish girl nodded, a small smile on her plush lips. “You mentioned Mahoutokoro doesn’t accept Muggleborns, yes? Why is that?”

“From my understanding there’s never been any instance of a Muggleborn before; many are usually a Pureblood or a Halfbreed.” 

“And what are you?” Asked Eugene. 

“I’m a Pureblood.” 

“What’s your last name, then? Purebloods are usually famous for their lineage, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Saoirse nodded. “But I can’t say; my mother and father are sticklers for secrecy and being overly cautious.” 

“But they’re not here, just say it,” Eugene scoffed. 

“It would be rude of me to.”  

The boy sighed, “Lame.” He stood up from his chair, dusting imaginary dust off his trousers. “Well, I’m off to sleep; can’t handle being in this infirmary any longer.” He walked off, a slight sway in his steps as he disappeared behind the tall and dark wooden doors of the Hospital Wing. 

Ava-Lynn stood up as well, her eyes bright yet tired as she said, “I should be going to bed too. It was nice meeting you, Saoirse. Linda noche, que descanse.” 

Once the girl left, Tracy and Saoirse were left alone once more, before the boy spoke, “It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it?” 

Saoirse nodded, a flutter of her lip catching his eye. “Mn, I suppose so.” 

Saoirse could not sleep no matter how hard she tried. Tracy, for whatever reason, allowed himself to stay in the hospital wing with her, running his mouth on and on until Saoirse threw a pillow in his face. 

The moment Saoirse healed him, Tom left in a haste. It didn’t matter to her, though; that Riddle boy wasn’t of much interest to her. Maybe the spell she used was too harsh; maybe she could have used something more simple, but she was proud of her results nonetheless. She had never used it on a human before, only having access to rats and other small animals like toads or fish. Considering how fast his skin deteriorated his mind wasn’t all that strong; she assumed he was panicking the moment he saw the injury. 

“So, what’s Japan like?” Tracy swiveled his head on his neck, unaware of the way Saoirse’s cheek twitched the moment his nasally tones filled her ears. 

“It’s awfully hot, at least on Iwo Jima,” she started. “And it’s windy almost all the time. I never knew October could be so cold; it’s usually scorching this time of year.” 

“Really,” Tracy wowed. “That’s so cool! What kind of animals do you have in Japan? Oh, and what do you wear? Is it true that Japan—” 

“Mayfield,” Saoirse coughed. “Please stop talking.” 

The boy pouted, his shoulders sagging as he fiddled with his sleeves. “Do you want me to leave?” He whispered. The girl nodded, not noticing the way Tracy’s nose scrunched as he stood up from the metal, rusty chair, his footsteps echoing as he got further away from Saoirse. 

She never had anyone force themself to stay around her for so long before. Usually that only happened when someone was dared to—though, she was never bullied; it was common for students to make bets and commit other mischievous activities regarding others. 

One girl—her name irrelevant—had been dared to befriend a boy in exchange for a chocolate, one that Saoirse herself loved. The brand was founded in recent years, Meiji, an homage to the beloved emperor, and had been gaining major popularity on the island despite being a brand from the non-magical population; the jyōjin. 

Turns out, the boy had actually liked the girl, and her friends were attempting to be matchmakers, but eventually it was revealed that the girl didn’t like him at all. It was a huge debacle; she had slapped the boy in the middle of the courtyard, yelling at him about how she wished her friends never dared her to talk to him, how that stupid piece of chocolate wasn’t worth the hours being in his presence. In the end, the boy took his life, embarrassed by the girl’s dramatic spectacle. 

Of course, it didn’t surprise Saoirse that the superintendents and the High Priestess did not do a thing about it; the girl was given a few weeks of punishment until her father wrote to the staff, and she was let go with a mere slap on the wrist after the fact. Saoirse always thought about that day, the day the boy died. He had hung himself in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by precious stones that so many had ironically died to get their hands on. 

Nonetheless, that didn’t go without saying that Tracy’s presence wasn’t appreciated. Saoirse’s head hurt, yes, but it was dull pain, one she could cope with. She was sure to get used to the boy soon enough; she doubted he was going away any time soon.

By a half-hour past 19:00, Tracy had unsurprisingly returned to the Hospital Wing, but with two more people. Days like this made Saoirse regret ever killing Himiko, she thought. People drained her energy. Behind the Ravenclaw was a boy and a girl, one with yellow lining in their robe and the other with red, respectively. The boy, hair fluffy and in complete disarray, was much taller than the other two. There were very noticeable scruffles of coarse hair along the sides of his face; Saoirse couldn’t tell if it suited him or not. Beside him was a girl in stark contrast; she was very short, similar to Himiko’s height. Her hair was a light brown, fluffier than any hair she had ever seen. 

“Why did you bring monkeys to harass me with?” The hospitalized girl sighed, a noticeable hump in her back as she sat up slowly under the light blue blanket—the one that barely kept her warm. 

Tracy only laughed, waving a hand as he sat back down in the chair he was once in hours ago, a plate of hot food in another hand that was set down near the girl. “You’re funny!” 

The other two dragged chairs next to him, sitting by Saoirse’s bedside. Tracy leaned in his seat, pointing to the boy to say, “This is Eugene,” he pointed to the girl, “and this is Ava-Lynn. They’re my friends, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Ava-Lynn, as Tracy named her, crossed her legs and lifted a manicured hand in greetings while Eugene only raised his eyebrows; his mind elsewhere. 

Saoirse blinked before looking back to the blond boy. “Why did you bring them here?” She asked. 

“Well, I thought you were lonely; you weren’t used to me talking your ear off. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s not like I can kick you three out.” She huffed.

“You don’t want to kick us out anyways, right? Hopefully not…” 

Saoirse shrugged, picking the warm plate up to put in her lap. The foreigner was getting used to the food in Hogwarts. Compared to the food she was accustomed with, it was rather bland. There were a lot of carbs in their diet. “Did they even want to come here?” She hummed, shoving the fork in her mouth. 

Tracy turned, whipping his head around to face his two friends who sat further away from the girl. “I didn’t drag you guys here, did I?” 

The other boy—Saoirse already forgot his name—shook his head, his hair moving along with his movements. “No,” he said, his voice low and his accent American. “I wanted to hear about the new girl; her country bombed mine last year, after all.” 

The girl beside him slapped his bicep, an offended look on her tan face and a sloppy, crooked grin on his. “You can’t say that,” she yelled. “She probably didn’t know about it, you dolt.” 

Saoirse interjected. “I did know about it; though Japan wasn’t very proud of how it failed. But it doesn’t concern me, really. Mahoutokoro doesn’t have  jyōjin in its population—Muggleborns.”

The boy only shrugged, his head flopping to rest on the shoulder of the girl beside him. “I’m really sorry about him,” she waved. “He’s usually more shy when meeting new people; I don’t know what’s up with him today.” 

The following half-hour was filled with idle chatter, with Tracy carrying the majority of the conversation. Ava-Lynn introduced herself as an immigrant from Spain. Her parents were low on money and with the war going on, as well as being in-between the polarizing Germanophiles and Anglophiles, her family was aligned with the United States. So, they fled the country. Other countries right of Spain on the map were out of the question, being so close to the bloodshed that only got worse deeper in the east. The de la Rosas needed to go west. Her family settled in Scotland a couple years back, long before Ava-Lynn obtained her letter from Hogwarts. 

“You’re a Muggleborn, then?” Saoirse asked, her legs folding as she sat tailor-fashion. 

The Spanish girl nodded, a small smile on her plush lips. “You mentioned Mahoutokoro doesn’t accept Muggleborns, yes? Why is that?”

“From my understanding there’s never been any instance of a Muggleborn before; many are usually a Pureblood or a Halfbreed.” 

“And what are you?” Asked Eugene. 

“I’m a Pureblood.” 

“What’s your last name, then? Purebloods are usually famous for their lineage, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Saoirse nodded. “But I can’t say; my mother and father are sticklers for secrecy and being overly cautious.” 

“But they’re not here, just say it,” Eugene scoffed. 

“It would be rude of me to.”  

The boy sighed, “Lame.” He stood up from his chair, dusting imaginary dust off his trousers. “Well, I’m off to sleep; can’t handle being in this infirmary any longer.” He walked off, a slight sway in his steps as he disappeared behind the tall and dark wooden doors of the Hospital Wing. 

Ava-Lynn stood up as well, her eyes bright yet tired as she said, “I should be going to bed too. It was nice meeting you, Saoirse. Linda noche, que descanse.” 

Once the girl left, Tracy and Saoirse were left alone once more, before the boy spoke, “It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it?” 

Saoirse nodded, a flutter of her lip catching his eye. “Mn, I suppose so.” 

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

1:15

“I apologize for the impromptu meeting, but there is something that must be addressed amongst the Inner Circle.” 

Tom stood at the round table in the Come-and-Go Room, this time the furniture being significantly smaller. Sitting at the table were only four young men: Abraxas Malfoy, Miles Lestrange, Orion Black, and Patrick Nott. Among the seven of the members, these were Tom’s most trusted—as far as his trust would go, that is. While the others are valuable, these four were perfectly picked for their unwavering loyalty and determination, as well as their sharp minds. The other three were not the brightest, especially compared to the Inner Circle. 

“I cannot trust this information with the other members because of their lack of composure,” Tom continued, now pacing along a small line of tile. “The girl, the foreigner, almost killed me today.” 

“How bad was the spell?” Patrick asked, his voice grave as he whipped his quill and ink pot out, parchment floating in the air as the tip of his crow feather.

“It caused my skin to decay,” he said, ignoring the way his followers gawked in surprise. “The pain was minimal, but the spell was very effective. From 9:00 to 13:00 the injury spread from my shoulder to my lower jaw and the midsection of my left bicep. When I went to the Hospital Wing, Madam Ruth was unable to heal it at all, though the pain did go away.

“The girl was the only one who could fix it; the use of magic was much different from the European way. The counterspell she used, she wrote it in the air and it healed my skin. There was also a boy visiting her—though irrelevant—and when he asked her what the spell was, she replied in what I assume to be Japanese.” 

As Patrick’s quill scratched against the parchment, Abraxas asked, “Do you have the memory? Maybe we can find something in the library.” 

“No, that won’t work, no matter how hard we look,” Patrick muttered. “The spell system is different in Mahoutokoro; I picked up a book about it a couple of days ago. Apparently people will make spells of their own due to the nature of Japan’s writing system, so if anything that spell is uniquely Saoirse’s. People will also make talismans for other purposes.” He leaned down, rummaging through his satchel before pulling out a spare test tube. “A memory could be helpful, though.” 

Tom nodded, handling his yew to his temple. A sliver of blue phased through his skin, a soft glow emanating from it before he slipped it in the small glass. “We need to speed up our plans. The Chamber must be opened by this year, preferably discovered before Yule Break.” 

“I’m sorry, my Lord, but we’ve been trying to look for ways since our third year.” Miles said, sweat sliding from the crook of his nose. “Are you sure we’ll be able to figure it out in time?”

“If you are doubting your own skills as well as my own, by all means, go ahead,” sighed Tom. “But this is crucial. This random, foreign girl appears out of nowhere, and she single handedly almost killed me—Salazar Slytherin’s only living descendent, his heir.” 

Tom leaned against the table, the wood creaking under his weight as he pressed his palms on it. “Surely you wouldn’t want our House and your family to know your laziness is stopping my rise to power, Lestrange.” 

Miles coughed, fingering at his collar as he sunk into his seat. “No, my Lord, why would I ever doubt you and your following? My apologies. I’ll owl my mother again as soon as I can—in fact, I’ll write to her tonight after this meeting.” “Good,” Tom hummed, his shoulders lax before he moved his gaze over to Orion and Abraxas. “Now, you two will help me search the school for any clues tonight. Patrick will keep on with his research.” The two boys nodded, their expressions firm and undeniably confident in their leader. “And for that girl,” he said. “Keep her close. she’s a threat to our operation—my legacy, my birthright; my purpose.”

Credit(s): Dividing banner (^^^) by Chen Lu (1436 - 1449) - "Plum Blossoms in Moonlight" scroll painting; sourced through Pinterest