#and then harrow swoops in

[starsarekind]

Conflict of the Mind

Marc Spector Angst, CW: Marc's whole childhood, mentions of drinking, allusions to abuse, Wendy and Elias Spector.

Marc Spector could tell you who was walking up the stairs based on the sound of their footsteps.

Elias had light, steady steps. He never walked upstairs too fast or too slow, and always passed right by Marc's door unless it was time to poke his head in to say goodnight.

Wendy's steps always sounded so angry — that's the first thought Marc always had when he heard them. Her steps were heavy, her movements were quick but clumsy. He'd hold his breath as she passed by the door, because more often than not, she wouldn't just pass by.

Marc Spector could hear her anger not just in her steps, but in the way she'd slam the doors in the house, the cabinets and cupboards, the windows. He could hear her anger even in the way she vacuumed, when Elias wasn't around to clean her messes and she was too tired or too drunk to remember she could make Marc do it.

Marc Spector tried all sorts of tactics to see what he could do to melt that anger. If she was mad, if she was yelling, he tried fighting back, maybe he could make her see rationality. He'd defend himself the way his parents used to teach him and Randall to do ("If someone is bullying you and being unfair, you need to stand up for yourself! Use your words. Then, tell an adult."). He learned very quickly that that advice did not apply to his parents. It meant Marc was defiant, and selfish, and he knew what he did wrong so what right did he have to raise his voice? Fighting back with Wendy just meant he was more in the wrong than if he'd stayed silent.

Funny thing, is that Wendy didn't seem to like silence, either. Marc would hold his tongue and accept what she said about him. Sometimes, he'd dissociate so far away from the moment that he couldn't even hear her words. But that was wrong, too. Marc's silence meant he was disrespectful, and stubborn, and he knew what he did wrong so how dare he ignore his mother? Silence was just as bad as making noise.

Once or twice, Marc even tried to agree with her. He was almost genuine with it. It was his fault, all of this, so maybe the words she laced with poison weren't misplaced. Maybe he did deserve them. But no, agreeing with Wendy meant Marc was being a wise-ass, and disobedient, and he knew what he did so he'd better learn.

He knew what he did.

It wasn't easy, it didn't help, but it became second nature to avoid her. It wouldn't always work, of course, a closed door meant nothing to Wendy, and any sort of barricading that door meant a hell of a world of pain for Marc, as he'd learned the hard way. Still, there were some days that feigning a migraine and staying in his room meant listening to Elias and Wendy fight instead of taking the brunt of it himself. It didn't feel good, but it was better. Which only proved that he was selfish, and if that was true, a good list of the other names Wendy had called him would be true, too.

Marc hated his mother. "She's unwell," Elias would say, as if it washed away all the bad things she'd ever done. As if that made it all okay. "She needs you to be patient, Marc. It's a heavy toll. It doesn't help when you fight back, okay? You have to respect her."

That didn't feel right. Those words, directed at him. Had Elias ever said the same to Wendy? Had he ever told her that Marc was just a boy, that he needed his mom's kindness, that she had to respect him? But Elias was just fighting the same battle, so maybe Marc could give him a pass. Elias didn't mean it, he was just trying to keep the peace. I mean, what else could Elias do? He had to live with Wendy, too. And though he wasn't the main target of her demands, that didn't mean he was spared.

That was a problem. For the longest time, Marc had rationalized that his mother was the bad one, and that meant Elias had to be the good one. He had to be a good dad in a tough position. And it sucked, but that was life.

Marc had always read that mommy issues meant you gravitated towards female figures who could fill that void in you, and he always prided himself on not having those issues. Marc always found himself more comfortable with a male authority figure anyway.

School teachers who showed him any kind of empathy. Any military official with a rank higher than his. His old C.O., Bushman. It wasn't until he indebted himself to Khonshu, the man (well, god) who saved his life, that he had the sudden and sharp realization that he may not have been trying to fill the void his mother made, but he had always been trying to fill the hole of his father. That he was always looking up to someone who he wished his father was. Someone who had authority, who had empathy, who protected him, who saved him.

Elias wasn't the good dad.

Part of him knew that on the day he moved out, too. "You're supposed to fix this — I mean, why haven't you?" Marc had always seen it as Elias's job, whether consciously or unconsciously, to make things better, to fix Wendy and in turn fix Marc. But there he was, swearing his life to an Egyptian deity who had the power to be better than his father ever was.

And then he wasn't, either.

Marc knew what he did. His mother told him over and over, rewriting every cell in his body until they all read the truth out to him. It was his fault.

[liu-yu-xin]

Have u ever been to a wayv concert

Yeag I went to their fanmeeting in macau last year if that counts but theyve never had an actual concert so technically no one has been to a wayv concert lol

[ghosts-and-you-might-die]

I love when our girls get to Canaan house and one of the first interactions they have with non ninth human beings is Dulcinea commenting on how charming and novel it is to meet a ninth house nun, and then Harrow leads them in the Ninth version of the prayer and everyone stares at her like she has twelve heads, and Gideon is treated like the avatar of death itself swooping through the corridors

And we, as the reader, had just been going along with the bone motif the whole time. This is a book about necromancers, sure, skeletons working the fields, skull paint, bone prayer beads. That tracks.

And then they get out in the real world and it turns out the Ninth are just fucking weirdos being treated like a 12th century nun just walked onto the set of a modern reality show set because that's exactly what fucking happened.

[fatcatscafe]

The Cruciatus Curse

Gender neutral main character

SFW

Summary: Sebastian had once again asked you to meet up. This time along with Omnis the three of you must venture into the depths of Hogwarts's dungeon in order to uncover Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium. Who could imagine the dangers that were awaiting. Trapped by an Unforgivable curse you were faced with a harrowing decision.

Note: I felt like the Crucio quest line was very abrupt and the character's interaction felt lackluster so l decided to rewrite that storyline to better fit what the characters would really do.

It was a sudden notice—delivered in the dead of night. Your owl swooped silently through the window, carrying a letter with a wax seal, a familiar emblem that had become a quiet constant in your life. It was from Sebastian, someone you had grown acquainted with during your recent stay at Hogwarts.

You had come to expect such letters from him—these urgent, unannounced requests that seemed to come at the most unexpected moments. Perhaps it was your shared hunger for knowledge, a thirst for both danger and the unknown. Or perhaps it was the memory of the look in Sebastian’s eyes the day you visited his sister, Anne—a look that spoke of desperation and a need for help that never quite left his gaze. There was also the lingering sense of debt, the day he had covered for you in the library. So no matter how strange or urgent the request seemed you always felt an inclination to help him.

When your owl arrived with a note from Sebastian asking you to meet outside the common room, it wasn’t a surprise. But this time, a sense of dread settled in.

Sebastian’s growing obsession with the Dark Arts and Omnis’s troubled past had you hesitating. You knew he was slipping further down a dangerous path, and that worried you. Yet, something inside you pushed you to follow him anyway. There were your own reasons, ones you couldn’t quite shake that kept you tied to him.

********

It was an understatement to say you weren’t surprised when Sebastian mentioned Omnis’ clear reluctance to enter the Scriptorium, especially with his family’s past. In fact, you had already prepared yourself to persuade him.

What did surprise you was how easily Omnis agreed. Given that you all had something to gain—Omnis seeking answers about his aunt’s death, Sebastian hoping for a cure for his sister, and you eager to uncover mysteries—maybe it wasn’t that surprising after all.

********

After getting struck in the face from Salazar’s snakes and some questionable puzzle-solving skills, you finally started figuring it out.

The tension between the three of you had finally started to ease. With each locked gate you passed, you began to think this was easy. Maybe Noctua Gaunt had been overly cautious, and the Scriptorium wasn’t as dangerous as she had claimed.

Then you reached the final gate. There, before you, was a steel door, twisting and winding, with a face carved in agony, frozen forever in a state of relentless pain.

Suddenly, with a deafening bang, the gate behind you slammed shut, trapping you inside.

"Salazar Slytherin is not yet finished with us," Omnis muttered.

A piercing scream echoed through the chamber. The scream reverberated through the chamber, rattling your bones. For a moment, you all stood frozen, the air thick with dread.

"That was no ordinary scream," Sebastian said, his voice tight. "It came from somewhere... close."

You turned to face the steel door, now feeling like it was more of a warning than a mere barrier. The face etched in agony seemed to almost watch you, its hollow eyes staring back with a haunting intensity.

“We need to find a way out,” Omnis said, his voice laced with urgency. “Now.”

The three of you scramble to figure out a way to unlock the door. It was then you discover Noctua’s remains and her last efforts to escape.

"Her last journey entry," you murmured, a chill crawling up your spine. "She mentions being trapped here—blocked by an Unforgivable curse."

Omnis’ eyes widened, his breath quickening. "I knew it. This is where she died. This is where we’ll die!" His voice rose in panic. "I knew I shouldn’t have listened to either of you!"

He began pacing frantically, his face contorted in fear and anguish.

Sebastian grabbed Omnis’ arm, trying to steady him. "Listen, Omnis, I’m truly sorry about what happened with your aunt, but I know what we have to do, and it’s going to be difficult."

Omnis' eyes flickered to the door. The tortured faces, the word Crucio carved into the metal. Sebastian’s voice dropped lower. "We’re going to have to cast the Cruciatus curse to open it."

Omnis’ face twisted in horror. "Your aunt died because she had no one to cast it on. But we’re different. You know what this means."

Sebastian’s expression hardened. "Omnis, you’re the one with the most experience. You should cast it."

Omnis recoiled, shaking his head. "No. This is the last thing I want to do."

"Omnis," Sebastian said, his voice quieter but firm, "I know. But this is different. Whoever you cast it on will agree first. It won’t be like the innocent victims your family made you hurt. We can’t stay here forever. We have to open the door."

Omnis' hands trembled. "Don’t you get it? The spell doesn’t work unless you mean it. I could never bring myself to do it again. I made a promise to myself. It wouldn’t work if I tried—I can’t do it. It has to be one of you."

Sebastian turned to you, and your eyes locked. A silent understanding passed between you.

"It’s up to us, then," he said. "Either I teach you how to cast Crucio, or I cast it on you. We’ve been left with no choice. I don’t want us to meet the same fate as Noctua. If it comes to it, I will cast it."

You froze, the weight of his words sinking in. To say you were scared was an understatement. Everything you’d heard about the Cruciatus curse painted it as a nightmare. And with Omnis’ tragic past, you were even more determined to stay far away from it.

But maybe it was your encounter with ancient magic that first sparked an unrelenting desire to understand it all, all magic, everything. Despite the evil of it, you still wanted to learn the Cruciatus curse. But the thought of actually using it on someone—especially Sebastian—was something you couldn’t bear.

“I want to learn the Cruciatus curse," you said, your voice clear. "But I won’t hurt you with it. I can handle the pain. It’s fine. Cast it on me."

Sebastian held your gaze, his eyes intense. "I won’t forget this."

You both took a step back from each other. Slowly, Sebastian lifted his wand, aiming it at you. His hand trembled slightly, and his voice came out shaky. "Are you ready?"

Omnis halted his pacing, the silence in the chamber heavy. The only sounds were the sharp, labored breaths and the thick tension hanging in the air.

“I’m ready.”

Sebastian’s eyes were wide with panic, his whole body trembling. "CRUCIO!" he shouted, his voice cracking.

A wave of force slammed into you, as though the air itself had been ripped away. Pain flared briefly through your body, sharp and sudden, but it quickly faded as you gasped for breath, your chest heaving.

The door, however, remained locked.

Omnis' voice broke the silence, cold and resolute. "See? I told you. The curse only works if you're truly desperate or have the determination to truly hurt someone."

He paused, his gaze heavy on both of you. "You didn't mean it. And that’s why it didn’t work."

There was a bitterness in his tone now, as if the weight of his own past—of what he had been forced to do—lingered in the air.

You steadied yourself, taking a deep breath to ground your racing thoughts. "Sebastian," you called out, your voice steady despite the chaos.

His eyes snapped to you, wide and filled with shock, as though the full consequences of the curse hadn't quite sunk in yet.

"We have to get out," you pressed, your voice firm. "None of us are willing to die here. Especially you. Remember why you came here. For Anne."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. "If you die here, you leave her all alone. You can’t let that happen."

Sebastian closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. For a moment, the weight of everything seemed to crush him, but when he opened his eyes again, something had changed. His posture straightened, the panic slipping away, replaced by a newfound resolve.

His hand, once trembling, was now steady as stone. He took aim, his voice calm but filled with purpose.

"Crucio!"

You braced yourself, waiting for the inevitable impact.

This time, there was no hesitation. A force slammed into you, harsher than before, like a jagged bolt of pain coursing through your body. Blinding white pain searing itself across your body. It felt like every fiber of your being was torn apart, like the very blood in your body was boiling.

You couldn’t stop the scream that tore from your throat, raw and desperate. You weren’t sure what was happening—was the pain real, or had you somehow drifted into a nightmare? Maybe you were on the floor now, but everything felt hazy, like time itself had stretched out into endless eternity.

You thought you had blacked out. When you came to, you found yourself on the cold ground, Omnis by your side, gripping your shoulder with a firmness that was meant to comfort but also betrayed his own inner turmoil.

His face was twisted with distress, but there was something deeper in his eyes—a torment that hinted at the demons he was battling inside. He was reliving something, something from his past that was too hard to shake.

Your gaze flickered upward to Sebastian. He stood still, his body rigid, face drained of color. His breaths came in shallow, labored gasps. The resolve in his eyes was still there, but it was tempered now with guilt and exhaustion. You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, how the weight of what had just happened settled over him.

The silence between you all was thick, heavy with unspoken words and the lingering effects of the curse. Omnis kept his hand on your shoulder, his grip tightening slightly, as if he was trying to steady both of you. His eyes flicked nervously between you and Sebastian, as if uncertain what to do next.

Finally, Sebastian broke the silence, his voice hoarse. "Are you... okay?" He asked the question, but it was clear he wasn't sure if he could even believe it himself. His gaze never wavered from you, almost as if he was afraid you might disappear at any moment.

You pushed yourself up slowly, wincing as the remnants of the curse still pulsed in your veins. "I'm alive," you replied, your voice weak "But that wasn’t exactly painless."

Omnis let out a breath, his brow furrowing. "You shouldn't have volunteered for that. None of us should have. We’re lucky it worked."

Sebastian's expression darkened. "It was the only way. We had no choice-"

"Look-" you said, your voice trembling slightly as you pointed toward the now-open door. It had seemingly melted into the floor, revealing what lay beyond. The sight before you took your breath away—a massive sculpture of Salazar Slytherin. It was clear now that the scriptorium really had been hidden behind these doors all along.

Omnis was quick to help you to your feet. Sebastian turned slowly, his eyes wide with awe. "We made it," he breathed, his voice thick with disbelief. "It really was hidden here at Hogwarts all this time."

"I know," Omnis murmured, "I can’t believe we’re here."

Despite everything that had just occurred—the pain, the curse, the near-death—you couldn't help but share a quiet sense of wonder with the others. The room before you was magnificent, the very air thick with the weight of history. The sight of one of Hogwarts’ founders was enough to make anyone pause in awe.

As the three of you stepped into the room, Sebastian was quick to push ahead, his curiosity and eagerness to uncover the room’s secrets driving him forward.

Omnis was more hesitant, lingering by the doorway. The events of the past moments weighing heavily on him. The emotional toll of everything that had happened was taking root. He seemed lost in his own thoughts.

You, on the other hand, couldn't resist the pull of the room. Every inch of it felt like a treasure trove of untold knowledge, secrets waiting to be unraveled. Even with the lingering pain pulsing in your body, your curiosity overpowered it urging you to step deeper into the scriptorium.

Ignoring the sharp flashes of pain still coursing through you, you couldn’t help but scan the room eagerly, searching for anything that might reveal the secrets this place held. Your eyes landed on something that made your pulse quicken—a thick, ancient book resting on a table, its cover worn and faded. The title caught your breath: Slytherin Spells.

"I think I found something!" you called out

"May I have a look?" Sebastian asked

You handed him the book, watching as his fingers lightly traced the cover, a smile tugging at his lips. "What an honor!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "To be holding a piece of Hogwarts' history, a book that once belonged to a founder… I say we continue exploring this room. Who knows what else it could hold?"

But as the words left his mouth, a quiet, uneasy voice echoed from behind you. Omnis’ voice was filled with palpable tension "I can’t shake this feeling... this lingering unease. We shouldn’t stay here. Let’s find a way out. Please."

Sebastian looked over his shoulder at Omnis, his expression softening just a bit. "I don’t want to leave," he admitted "But I owe you—both of you."

He held the spellbook up, his voice quieter now. "We’ve come this far. I would have never made it without both of you. The secrets in this room, it’s incredible."

Omnis’ voice tinged with frustration and fear. "We were lucky! We could have died in there. Swear, we mustn’t do this again."

You understood both of them, the room, the magic—it was all intoxicating, but there were far too many dangers lurking.

"You're right, Omnis," you said, a resolve settling within you. "Let’s find a way out."

*******

As the three of you exited the dungeon, Sebastian’s voice cut through the lingering silence, a rare softness to his tone.

“Listen, Omnis... about your aunt...”

Omnis immediately halted, the words clearly not something he wanted to hear again. “Please, Sebastian.” His voice was firm, but not unkind. “I meant what I said. The Dark Arts are dangerous, and we need to swear right now to never engage in them again.”

Sebastian hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “Understood,” he said quietly, almost reluctantly. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to tell you... I truly am sorry for everything that happened to your aunt.”

Omnis paused, a flicker of something softer in his expression. He nodded, but his voice cracked with barely concealed emotion. “I... suppose, after all of this, I’m grateful to finally know what happened to her. Thank you. Both of you.”

Sebastian nodded in return, his eyes filled with a quiet sincerity, while you stood off to the side, feeling the weight of their words settle in the air. Omnis began to walk away, his steps slow, each one heavy with the burden of everything that had just unfolded. Neither of you made a move to follow.

The sorrow in Omnis’ posture was unmistakable, a weight pressing down on him that neither of you could lift. There was a slight tremor in his steps as he walked further into the shadows. It was clear that he needed space, that the turmoil inside him was too much to share just yet.

After a long moment, Sebastian spoke, his voice quieter than usual. "He’ll come around. In his own time."

You glanced at Sebastian. He seemed worn down, a bit more haggard than usual. But despite the exhaustion, his hands remained tightly gripping the spellbook, and you could see the determination in his eyes whenever his gaze shifted to it. No matter the toll the journey had taken, his focus never wavered. The weight of Anne’s curse was always there in his mind, and he wasn’t about to let anything stand in his way of finding a cure.

“I think it’s time for me to go too,” Sebastian says quietly. You nod in acknowledgment as he begins to walk in the opposite direction of the common room. You guess he’s probably off somewhere to dissect the book, searching for anything that could help Anne.

As the excitement of the day starts to fade, you become acutely aware of the toll it’s taken on you. Your bones ache with every little shift, and suddenly, like your body remembers the pain, a flash of it shoots through you. It’s sharp, sudden, and leaves you feeling drained.

It’s clear now—you need rest. You turn toward the common room, ready to head back to your dorm and recover. Just as you're about to enter, you hear Sebastian call out.

“Hey,” he calls again. Across the hall, he stands hidden in the shadows, his face barely illuminated by the nearby fire.

“I… I’m really grateful to you. Not just for this. Everything. I’m really glad to have met you.”

He gives a small, tired smile, but there’s a genuine warmth in his eyes. It’s a flicker of the boy you first met before all the chaos, the same spark that drew you to him in the first place.

You nod, grateful for his words, though you don’t trust yourself to say anything back just yet. Your throat feels tight, and words seem almost too heavy for the moment. Instead, you offer a smile of your own, soft and tired but real.

You reply "Me too," then pause "I'm glad we met too." saying the last part quietly, too small for him to hear

For a heartbeat, you both stand there, in the quiet of the hall, the weight of everything that’s happened settling between you. And then he turns and begins to walk into the darkness where you no longer see him.

You stood there for a moment longer staring at the empty hallway. With a deep breath, you finally turned toward the common room, the weight of the night pressing down on you. It had been a long journey, but for now, rest was all you needed.

Part One | Part two

Author’s note: yayy i finished my first writing!! I was so disappointed by this quest that i had to pick up my keyboard to give the boys more emotion during this scene. I tried to keep in game dialogues and keep things the same.

[kradogsrats]

Revisiting the Arc 2 Opening

So particularly @raayllum had done some detailed analysis and predictions based on the comparison of Viren and Callum's variant arc 2 openings, but I want to return in the post-s6 space now that we have Claudia's opening as a third point of comparison because that addition has an impact on how the original two relate to one another and what each one is saying.

The basic sequence of each opening is the same: from the initial star-map zoom (associated with destiny/time-blind vision of future events) the camera circles the principal character, placed at the celestial Sea of the Castout, as they turn to stone. Aaravos's giant hand swoops down and plucks up the statue, now contextualized by size as a pawn or other game piece, to admire from within his prison with a satisfied smile.

The most important point to understand about this sequence is that Aaravos doesn't personally turn Viren, Callum, and Claudia to stone, but is able to capture and manipulate them as pawns because of it:

This doesn't seem like much of a distinction at all, particularly because the petrification that results in Aaravos's satisfied claim on each mage is a representation of dark magic, which is... what allows Aaravos to influence/control those who resort to using it.

We get the direct link between the heart, dark magic, and Aaravos's influence/control explicitly spelled out by s6, and (as many noticed before)... go figure, in all three openings the corruption petrification begins at the heart.

Now, Callum is actually the only one who knows explicitly about the connection between dark magic and influence/control by Aaravos. Viren has sort of intuited it by the end of s5, in that we can see by portions of his dream that he's aware on at least a subconscious level that he was not in his right mind during at least the latter half of s3. This is why the distinction between the petrification being a factor allowing Aaravos's control, rather than an effect of it, is important—the conflicts and dynamics being represented are more complex than that. For example: Viren's opening, it turns out, isn't about Aaravos at all.

That's a Reach

When the primary arc 2 opening, featuring Viren, was revealed as part of the lead-up to the s4 release, there was a decent amount of speculation as to what it meant—the connection with Avizandum's death was recognized immediately, but what did that signify? Would there be further-reaching direct consequences of Viren's involvement and the archdragon-killing spell? Would Avizandum himself somehow have expanded significance? What is Viren reaching for: Aaravos, redemption, another chance at life?

Mostly, it set the tone for s4 and arc 2 in general, particularly regarding Viren's character arc, with strong mood and themes of helplessness, the past, regret and consequences, cyclic harm, and (of course) death. Not even to mention the looming presence of Aaravos and his relationship with Viren as his pawn. It was a vibe.

It wasn't until after s5 and/or s6 that the opening came into full context: Avizandum, in his final moments, turns his back on the battle with Harrow—the cycle of violence that he, himself, has contributed to perpetuating—and reaches for the child he will now be unable to protect from that violence.

Viren, as it turns out, does the exact same, as we see explicitly in s5 and continued implicitly in s6. Like Avizandum, he reaches for his children, unable to save them from the damage he has already done—all of it through dark magic.

On its own, it's an elegant implementation of the parallels TDP is so fond of to demonstrate that both sides of this long-time conflict have inflicted harm on each other and themselves in very similar ways for generations. Even at the time of s4, however, we had Callum's opening obviously derived from Viren's, and after s6 we have Claudia's, as well—both of which come with their own context that builds off of Viren's in different ways.

Lost Child

So while Viren's opening actually has very little to do with Aaravos (prior to Aaravos's actual appearance grasping him as a literal pawn), Claudia's (and Callum's, which we'll come back to in a bit) is difficult to interpret as not being related to her personal dynamic with Aaravos.

Interestingly, Claudia's opening places her at a very specific point in time, since it's visibly between two major physical changes to her body/appearance—her lower leg is missing, severed by Rayla in the Sea of the Castout at the end of s5, but she still has her long hair from before prompting Terry to cut it off for her early in s6. Even more specifically, she has the half-and-half split of black and white hair, which is already majority-white in s6e1:

This is Claudia in a moment we don't see on-screen—when, having failed to collect Aaravos's prison and not knowing that Viren has been offered and rejected the Infantis Sanguine spell, she turns to Aaravos in the dark of night and is willing to do anything to save her father.

I could do a whole thing here about the nature of Claudia's perception of Aaravos as both a paternal and divine figure, but the relevant part is that her only association between dark magic and Aaravos is a positive one—as far as she's concerned, Aaravos gave humanity dark magic as a benevolent gift, and her main reason (at least that she's willing to voice) for hesitating to give it up is that Aaravos kept his promises to her and it would be right to keep her promise to free him. In her opening, she goes from pained and defeated to looking upward with total trust and hope—looking to Aaravos the way she would have looked to Viren.

Her petrification shares the single tear with Viren and Avizandum, really cementing her place as another loop in the cycle of harm between humanity and Xadia that has dark magic at its heart. That callback to Viren's opening also puts hers in dialogue with him as much as with Aaravos, placing her in the same position as he is in a reflection of his horror and dismay that she has followed his path and example so closely.

Given that Claudia dramatically changes appearance (and, to an extent, attitude) immediately after this opening is introduced, it's possible that we'll see a different variant for s7... but given the end of s6, she actually hasn't really changed all that much. She has doubts about how to proceed with her life after Viren leaves, but as soon as Aaravos re-enters the picture, her conviction is back. She may not have done any dark magic after s6e1, but I don't think that's because she's decided to give it up.

Key Framing

Given the context of Claudia's opening, Callum's opening becomes unusual because it references Viren's without tying back to Avizandum and that cycle of harm. It's still on some level about dark magic, but Callum's relationship with dark magic isn't tied up in family and inheritance like Claudia's and Viren's are—instead it's focused entirely on fate vs. freedom, and on Aaravos specifically.

Callum's opening appears only for s4e4 ("Through the Looking Glass"), where he is possessed by Aaravos and it is established that his single use of dark magic is what allows that control, and for s5e8 ("Finnegrin's Wake") when he uses dark magic a second time. The shared opening puts those two episodes in obvious dialogue with each other, since s5e8 never makes explicit that the danger of dark magic for Callum is control by Aaravos—something he has already asked Rayla to end his life in order to avoid.

The focus in Callum's opening, both by its visual prominence and Callum's own gaze directed at it, is the Key. While Viren and Claudia's petrifications end the way Avizandum's does—with the single tear—Callum's ends with the Key in a blaze of light.

I expect we will see Callum's opening return for s7, possibly even as a primary opening, but it will almost certainly be recontextualized at some point and possibly even changed to a variant that reflects that new context. The Key is an element that will contribute to Callum's doom or salvation—or both, as a key can both lock and unlock—and its prominence in his opening reflects that and will likely be informed by how that resolution develops.

All of Us, Stardust

Speaking of alterations to the openings:

The final, altered version of the Viren opening kicks off s6, acting as a last, fun little extension of the "is Viren dead?" cliffhanger of s5. Aaravos's hand reaches down as usual, but instead of firmly grasping the petrified Viren, he very briefly hesitates before pushing it slightly, instead. The petrified Viren then crumbles and collapses into dust.

We first saw (or rather, had described to us via frantic convention attendee note-taking) this opening at the first reveal of s6e1, which was originally shown without any of the scenes revealing Viren to be alive. There are a lot of ways it could be interpreted, from a straightforward "he'd dead, Jim," to my own kind of fanciful theory from the time regarding Viren, dead or alive, having been made unusable by Aaravos as a pawn.

One way to contextualize this opening is with this old illustration from Patience, which ties in closely with the Aaravos chess/pawns motif (and was a significant part of contextualizing the arc 2 opening as "pawns"):

Now, there are a lot of things about this image that are important, not least the confirmation/reinforcement of the chain of manipulation of dark mages by Aaravos across thousands of years from Ziard to Viren, with the implication of Callum in the future. What I'd like to call attention to is that in chess, tipping over a piece is a gesture specifically used only with the king, and specifically to indicate that you are resigning the game and the opponent is victorious.

I don't think there's anywhere we've seen Aaravos truly lose, except for possibly when he was imprisoned, because his plans have levels of redundancy that mean they don't depend on any given individual—a game of chess hinges on the king, but Aaravos is essentially playing six or eight interconnected games at once, and a loss on one board only reinforces his remaining pieces on another. Losing Viren, deliberately or not, empowers his influence over Claudia... exactly as we see in the sequence of arc 2 openings. It would be difficult for them to have replicated the tipped-over/toppled king imagery with the petrified Viren without having to do some labor-intensive camera work on the existing opening pattern (e.g. do they show the ground when he falls? What even is the ground?)—so I think there's a strong likelihood that him crumbling to dust is meant to have a similar resonance.

Anyway, I'm kind of dancing around some complex theorizing and analysis of Viren's death that I go back and forth on depending on the day, but basically I do still think the important takeaway from this opening variant is that as far as Aaravos is concerned, Viren is off the board. That it's the opening for s6e1, rather than a special use for s6e8 (as Callum's variant openings are handled) is also IMO a positive sign regarding Aaravos's loss of control and direct manipulation of Viren over the course of s6. I don't think we've heard the last about Viren, and between Claudia, Soren, and Kpp'Ar there will definitely be a multifaceted interpretation of his legacy with significance in s7.

Opening the Final Season

Ultimately, given the dialogue between the three (four?) variant openings we have seen so far for arc 2, I think for s7 we can expect:

the Callum variant will appear at least once

at least one new Claudia- or Callum-based variant, OR possibly even an Aaravos variant

a new variant (possibly one of the ones from the previous point) to close out the arc for at least s7e9

That's my fevered ramblings about this 20-second repeated sequence, thanks for coming to my continuing insane TED talks on this and other ridiculous topics.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Reading that female beastmen are mostly stronger then males, this got me thinking that Ruggie sister when in desperate measures she go hunting with some of the hunting group to get food

I liked to think Ruggie mention when asked a question that how his sister went out and came back home with two water buffalo for the family to eat as she can't always used her unique magic during the dry season

And the camping event she did the same habit and brings in a giant elk to share and eat

Leona, Jack, Rook, Sebek,Vil, Azul

Seeing Ruggie sister brings in their hunt and apologize for letting their instincts get the better of them as she just wanted to provide the best she can

Fun fact: Hyenas have the strongest bite force that they can able to break bones, and they are very social animals and they are more related to cats then dog

Ruggie’s Sister Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

It's the modern era hunting animals with your hyena features isn’t exactly as accepted nowadays. Not to mention Ruggie’s comfortabiltiy; if you're the original little sister you’re not supposed to be too intimidating. That’s part of the reason you and Ruggie get along so well. You’re not threatening and you still rely and respect him. In a world of bold beastwomen you're his little ray of gentle light. He’s going to protect that no matter what! But it seems he not the only one:

Leona Kingscholar

“How do you expect to get anywhere in life, without me?”

He knows what makes Ruggie so protective of you

He respects that

But he’s going to have to swoop in and steal your heart

He’s sure Ruggie will appreciate it 

Or the massive wedding dowry in his bank account

But no worries you’re not like everyone else and neither is he

So you two just happen to be perfect together

Jack Howl  

“I know how special they are…that’s why I’m going to protect them too!”

He means it 

Even willing to help his senior if he needs an extra pair of hands

When burying your enemies

He knows he’s got a long way to go 

But he’s going to make it work

After all a mate as special as you deserves a worthy partner

Rook Hunt 

“Oui oui mon amour est là grain de sable spécial!“

That’s exactly why he so dutifully follows you and monsieur dandelion

Such a curious couple of hyenas are always wonderful to admire hunt

You’re no anomaly 

You’re the diamond in the rough

The one he will no doubt have

Sebek Zigvolt

“LOOK! THIS IS THE CALIBER OF A TRUE BEAST WOMAN! I SHALL FIX IT!”

You make him blush

You make him think about you

You fill his head with thoughts of you about how to keep you

Perhaps its because of your abnormal behavior 

He really loves it

He’s going to correct this behavior

Even if that means eliminating all distractions

Vil Schoenheit 

“But of course, the one I love is a high profile candidate. Too bad though they are mine.”

Such a gentle flower

He’s decided to pick you

Even if he has to poison the surrounding weeds

Maybe even a dandelion if he becomes too much of a problem

Azul Ashengrotto

“Their behavior isn’t at all like most beastwoman…I may open an investigation.”

Investigation…paying to have a thousand photos of you

Or convincing you to earn a few at the monstro lounge

Where he can watch you without restraint

He knows your special no doubt a high commodity for most

Well until he gets into a proper position to woo trap you 

He’s willing to string those interested in a harrowing contracts

[bellbery]

— Beneath the surface (Shuro x f!Reader)

Summary: Shuro wrestles with the painful memories of a lost love, Falin, whose death has left a wound he struggles to heal. As the group faces the perils of a dungeon, Shuro’s unresolved feelings clash with the present danger, straining his relationship with his current partner, who fears she will never be enough to fill the void Falin left behind. Just when emotions reach a breaking point, the sudden appearance of Falin’s ghostly figure— part human, part griffin— throws everything into chaos. Her presence feels both like a cruel illusion and a haunting reality, while harpies swoop down, forcing everyone into a desperate battle for survival. Amidst the chaos, past traumas, lingering love, and the fight for life collide, leaving the lovers teetering between heartbreak and danger.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Just Angsty :p might hurt you idk😭

🖋️ Author’s Note: Hello! I’m new to writing fictions, but since I kept rewatching the show I couldn’t help but think of an angsty story since Shuro did came back to the Dungeon to find Falin but- I HOPE ITS GOOD THIS IS SOOO LONG I GOT TOO MUCH INTO IT, and I’m thinking of Part 2 maybe if some yall would be interested :)) just comment if you want to e part of the tag list of this i series— enjoy reding!

After Laios confessed the harrowing ordeal his party had endured, Shuro stood frozen, his expression twisted with a mix of rage and disbelief. His Tachi blade hovered dangerously close to Laios’s neck, the tension thick in the air.

“Wow, how shameful. There’s nothing more despicable in this world than black magic,” Kabru remarked, his voice calm yet cutting. He directed a pointed gaze at Shuro, who was visibly trembling with frustration. “Was this person worth going to such lengths to revive?” Kabru’s words struck a nerve, causing Shuro’s grip on the blade to tighten. I stood nearby, feeling a chill creep through my veins. The conversation was like a storm brewing, and the weight in my chest grew unbearable. Kabru continued, his tone sharp, “It’s no wonder Shuro’s this angry about it. The dangers of bringing someone back to life using such a method outweigh the benefits.” His eyes flicked to me briefly, but I could tell his focus was on Shuro, watching him wrestle with emotions he barely contained. “For her sake, it would’ve been better if he had just let her—” “Enough!” Shuro’s voice cut through Kabru’s words like a blade, his tone desperate. He lowered his head, forcing himself to sheathe his Tachi, but I could see his hands shaking. He refused to meet my eyes, as if afraid that I might see the truth buried beneath the anger— something rawer, something that had always been there between us. “I get what you’re trying to say, but please don’t continue,” Shuro muttered, his voice breaking at the end, and my heart clenched in response. It hurt to see him like this, torn between his duty and the lingering shadow of his past. It hurt even more to know that a part of him had never really let go of her, not even after all this time, after all we had shared.

I intervened to break the suffocating tension, my voice trembling slightly as I spoke, “Let’s have a meal first. Senshi and I prepared something to help restore your strength.” I offered a reassuring smile, though it felt strained against the weight of despair looming over us. Shuro’s eyes flicked to me for just a moment, and in that instant, I saw a flicker of something perhaps gratitude, or maybe just the pain of being pulled in two directions. But the moment passed quickly, and he looked away again, returning to his internal struggle. “Food won’t change what happened,” he said quietly, the anger ebbing from his voice, replaced by a deep, aching sorrow that tugged at my heart. “It won’t erase the past,” I replied softly, “but we need to eat to stay strong for what’s ahead.” My voice wavered, and I felt the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. The thought of him still haunted by her, the one who had claimed his heart long before I had ever entered the picture, twisted like a dagger in my chest. “Do you think I can just forget?” Shuro snapped suddenly, his frustration boiling over again. “Do you think a meal can fix what’s broken?” The accusation hung in the air, heavy with unspoken pain. “No, but we have to keep moving,” I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady. “We can’t let the past consume us. Not when we have each other.”

His gaze finally met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I hoped to see understanding, but all I found was an abyss of confusion and unresolved feelings. The silence stretched between us, a chasm filled with unsaid words and unhealed wounds. It felt like the distance between us had grown insurmountable, and I didn’t know how to bridge that gap. “Please, let’s just eat,” I urged, my voice barely above a whisper. “For Falin. For all of us.” I could feel the tears threatening to spill, the weight of my own insecurities clawing at my heart. Shuro hesitated, and in that hesitation, I saw the battle raging within him. It was a struggle between duty, love, and the suffocating weight of his past— a battle that felt all too familiar. Finally, he nodded, though it felt like a hollow victory. As we gathered for the meal, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension. The food was spread before us, a distraction from the heartache that lingered in the air. But even as we began to eat, I could feel the unrelenting truth between us: he would always carry the memory of her, and I would always be the one left to wonder if I could ever truly fill that void.

“Maizuru.” I stood up, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled over us. “I will camp around a bit with Asebi to check for danger.” “But Young Master won’t agree—” Maizuru’s voice was hesitant, concern etched on her face. “I want to be alone,” I insisted, cutting her off. The words came out sharper than intended, but I needed space to breathe, to process the chaos swirling inside me. I could feel Shuro’s eyes on me, a weight of unspoken questions and unhealed wounds hanging in the air between us.

As I stepped away from the fire, I felt the chill of the dungeon creeping in, but it was nothing compared to the chill in my heart. Each step away from the group felt like a retreat into the darkness that had enveloped our lives since Falin’s death. I had been trying so hard to support Shuro, to be there for him as he wrestled with his feelings, but it was becoming too much. Asebi, my loyal companion, trotted beside me, sensing my distress. “You okay?” she asked, her voice low and gentle. “I’m fine,” I replied, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me. “I just need some time to think.” As we walked, I could still hear the muted sounds of the others eating, the occasional laughter from Senshi, who always tried to lighten the mood. But their joy felt like a distant echo, a world apart from the turmoil in my chest. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was fighting a losing battle against Shuro’s past.

We found a secluded spot, shielded from the flickering firelight, and I sat down heavily on a rock, feeling the cool surface against my skin. Asebi settled beside me, her presence comforting yet bittersweet. I took a deep breath, willing myself to gather my thoughts, to understand what I was feeling. “Why does it hurt so much?” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “Why can’t I just be enough for him?” Asebi nuzzled against my side, and I absentmindedly reached down to stroke her fur. “He’s still in love with her, isn’t he?” I asked, my voice breaking. “And I’m just… here.” There was a heavy silence, and I felt the tears begin to spill, hot and stinging. I wiped my face with my sleeve, anger mixing with the pain. It wasn’t fair. I had fought for this love, fought against the darkness surrounding us, but now it felt like I was fighting against a ghost.

What if I never measured up? What if I was just a replacement in his eyes?

“Y/N?” Shuro’s voice broke through my thoughts, deep and tentative, and my heart raced at the sound of it. I didn’t want to face him right now, didn’t want to unravel in front of him. But it was too late; he was already there, standing a few feet away, his silhouette framed by the dim light of the campfire behind him “Go back,” I said, my voice cold and unyielding, betraying none of the vulnerability that surged within me. “I just need some space.” “I can’t do that,” he replied, his tone steady but laced with something darker worry, perhaps, or an unwillingness to let me slip away. “We need to talk. You’re not alone in this.” “Not alone?” I scoffed, bitterness dripping from my words. “You may not be physically alone, but you are emotionally miles away. How can I compete with someone who’s already etched into your heart? Someone you were never able to let go of?” The silence that followed was deafening, stretching between us like an unbridgeable chasm. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he wanted to reach out, to comfort me, but hesitated, trapped by the weight of his past.

A sudden creature zoomed in, almost capturing me, and I instinctively ducked, narrowly avoiding its talons as it swept past. The air crackled with danger, and I felt adrenaline surge through my veins. I glanced up just in time to see the Harpy’s grotesque form swoop around, its wings outstretched and eyes locked onto me with predatory intent.

“Y/N!” Shuro shouted, his voice sharp with urgency as he moved to stand protectively in front of me. “Get back!” My heart raced as I scrambled to my feet, Asebi growling low beside me. The harpy circled back, screeching with a chilling sound that echoed through the darkness. Its claws glinted ominously in the dim light, and I could feel the fear tightening around my chest. “Stay close,” Shuro instructed, his hand instinctively reaching for his Tachi. But in the back of my mind, the unresolved tension between us hung like a storm cloud, waiting to burst. “Shuro, wait!” I called out, desperation creeping into my voice as the harpy dived again. “You can’t let your anger take over. We need to focus! But he was already moving, his blade drawn and poised. The conflict in his eyes was still there, shadowed by the rush of battle. With every flick of his wrist, I saw glimpses of the past the burden of his unresolved feelings, the lingering ghosts of what once was.

Suddenly, I saw another harpy swooping toward me, and in a moment of instinct, I shoved Shuro aside to avoid getting caught in its claws. “Warn the others!” I yelled as I narrowly dodged the second harpy, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Y/N, no!” Shuro shouted, his voice filled with panic as he rushed to regain his footing, anger flaring once again. But I couldn't afford to think about his feelings right now; I had to survive. The sudden shift in the air as I was flung away sent my heart racing. My body collided roughly with the cold, uneven surface of a rooftop, knocking the breath from my lungs. But it wasn’t the pain that froze me in place it was what I saw next.

Just beyond the shadowed edge of the roof stood Falin.

Her figure was illuminated by the pale light of the moon, her skin glowing with an ethereal radiance. Her expression was just as I remembered—gentle, yet tinged with a sorrowful depth in her eyes. Half of her body had transformed into that of a griffin, red dragon scales glinting under the moonlight, a long tail sweeping behind her. My mind struggled to comprehend it. She was supposed to be gone, just a memory, a shadow that lingered in Shuro’s heart. Yet here she was, standing before me, as real as the frigid night air.

“Falin?” I whispered, my voice barely a breath, steeped in disbelief. My legs trembled beneath me, the ache in my chest growing tighter. This had to be a cruel trick, a mirage spun by the dungeon. But her presence felt real just as Shuro had described her, never fully forgotten, never truly at rest. Beside her, harpies cackled and screeched, their feathers ruffling as their sharp claws gleamed in the moonlight. They took flight, swooping toward the group below. Panic shot through me, snapping me back to the present danger. “Everyone, look out!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the night as I watched the creatures dive toward my friends.

As the harpies descended with terrifying speed and Falin’s haunting gaze locked onto Shuro, I felt the weight of unresolved pasts pressing down on us, signaling that our greatest challenges were yet to unfold. The story was far from over…

🖋️ Author’s Note: I HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING MY FIRST FIC, and please like, reblog and comment for feedbacks or any critique so i could improve better :> THANJ YOU SO MUCH

[ollypopwrites]

i got tagged by @the-bear-and-his-sunbird to post a snippet of a WIP and tbh I didn’t know what to post but I found something!

Tagging anyone who wants to play (please tag me I love to see what you are working on) and I am too distracted to think of all the lovely writers and their fics that I greedily want a sneak peak at.

This snippet was written at the beginning of a follow up to Aureate, a bit of a flashback moment. at this point I like what I wrote but am still unsure it has a place in that fic!! It is unedited and very much just like a spark of a thought i wrote out sooooo take it for what it is lol

Emmrich had known devastating loss, he met it very early and it had been somewhat of a companion for most of his life.

Suddenly and with striking finality he had become an orphan, with no other family willing or able to take him in. Home and parents, gone all in one fell swoop.

And he was a sensitive child, something that had never truly passed, not a phase or a fleeting reaction to tragedy. No, even forty odd years after the loss of his parents he was still quite easily moved to extreme emotion. The only thing that had changed was his ability to mask it, and even that was mediocre when the more pressing feelings washed over him in a tidal wave.

Loss was familiar but he never found it less harrowing. That initial detachment, the shock, had rendered him mute the first few days after his parents died. The first stage of grief was where one had to grapple with was the idea that someone was now forever absent. He had learned to trudge on through that, smaller losses had made it possible.

A first love, dashed and broken. Second, third and fourth loves in succession, deeply scarring in their start and end. The stark acceptance of dreams left behind. Indeed, lichdom had many appeals, one of which being that there would be no final grave next to his parents’. He had agonized over forewards of his books in editions published after his demise, mentioning a sparse trio of graves with no new names to add to the altar. The sharp edge of a lack of family in both directions; no parents, no lover, no children. It was only him and his work. The horrible ache of friendships thrown to the rocks. Johanna had been a slow but aching loss, one of the most memorable.

“So you didn’t get blown to bits! Aren’t you going to gloat? Volkarin the God Vanquisher! Pah!”

Even if she was still present in his life, and he had the slightest hope time would soften her to something less wretched (unlikely), the days where they could call each other friend were long gone. A new soreness bloomed, as he thought that the comfort of a friend who had been with him as long as she had would have been welcome.

Emmrich didn’t entertain a response to her jab. Nothing she said was going to soothe or even be remotely helpful. He’d be better off knocking on Taash’s door, who was actively melting everything in their room. Even now he could faintly hear a thud and a crash.

Poor, poor Taash. Their mother and now Lace.

Taash was not receptive to his approaches of comfort, but he was sure Rook would —

Ah. That’s right.

They had returned home from Tearstone Island three short. Lace Harding was undoubtedly dead, while Bellara was in all likelihood absorbed and dying a slow painful death by blight. Lovely ladies, very dear friends of his, the pair of them. Someone would need to water Harding’s plants, and he should organize Bellara’s scribbled notes to get them published for her. There were no remains to do anything with, and even if there were the others would have burnt them. Barbaric.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

When Are You Gonna Come Down

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Aftercare; implied rough sex, but no sex is shown; implied lack of previous aftercare; nonsexual nudity; fluff; not beta-read

Summary: "Let's get you cleaned up," He urges against your skin. "C'mon."

You hesitate before you nod, scooching toward the edge of the bed. Bradley gets up with you, taking hold of your hand and guiding you down the hall. You follow, blinking a little blearily.

You're usually in your car by now. You're usually pulling over to take a deep breath, to calm yourself down, to settle.

"Slow down."

"I'm fine."

"Just hang on—"

You don't heed his order, already sitting up—and nearly falling back as your head spins. Your gut swoops with panic as you brace your hands on the bed, sucking in a nervous breath.

"Holy crap," You mumble.

"I told you." He's chuckling, but it isn't a mean sound. Bradley scoots closer to you, gathering you back against his chest and easing you to lay down. You sag back against him, head still throbbing as stars crowd your eyes.

"You always in such a hurry afterward?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," You grumble.

"I would, for next time. May tie you down, head it off at the pass."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I'm in the Navy, sweatpea. I can tie a mean knot."

You can't help but smile a little as he gently smooths beads of sweat back from your forehead, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You alright?" He asks. "You want something to eat or drink?"

"I should go."

"Wait a little bit." His hand slides down, smoothing down the slope of your shoulder. "Just...Come down properly, huh? I'm not gonna send you out all wired."

"I'm used to it."

It falls out of your mouth, and it's chased by harrowing silence. His fingers never waiver in their tender stroking of your skin.

"You shouldn't be," He finally murmurs. "You shouldn't split so fast."

"It's normal."

"It's not right."

"I can handle it."

"...I don't mean to be rude," He hedges, "But you just tried to get off of my bed and nearly dropped back down immediately."

"I'm just a little lightheaded."

"I know. I was rough."

"I wasn't complaining."

"I know." He leans into it. You can't see his eye roll, but you can hear it. You open your mouth to argue again, but he lowers his head, dotting your neck with tender kisses. You let your eyes slide closed, feeling yourself become putty in his arms. He carefully props the two of you up after a few minutes. You draw in a nervous breath, waiting for your head to spin, for the room to tip sideways…But it never comes.

"Feelin' alright?" He murmurs.

"Mhm."

"Let's get you cleaned up," He urges against your skin. "C'mon."

You hesitate before you nod, scooching toward the edge of the bed again. Bradley gets up with you, taking hold of your hand and guiding you down the hall. You follow, blinking a little blearily.

You're usually in your car by now. You're usually pulling over to take a deep breath, to calm yourself down, to settle. You follow Bradley into the bathroom, leaning against the counter as he starts the shower up. He glances at you now and again, seeming to want to check on you before he draws you takes you by the hand, leading you into the stall. You sigh at the feeling of the warm spray, tipping your head under the stream and feeling yourself relax further. Bradley curls up behind you, dropping kisses to your shoulders before he takes hold of the soap. It's a moment before you feel him smoothing your hands over your back. You brace your slightly-shaking arms against the tiled walls, relaxing as Bradley cleans your body reverently.

You reach for the soap, determined to do the same, but—

"Nn-nn," He hums, smoothing his hands along your arms until he's intertwining your fingers. "This is about you."

It makes you shiver. The brush of his lips, and his steady, sweat insistence.

"You took me so well, you know that?" He murmurs against the shell of your ear. "So fucking sweet, baby. You felt so fucking good."

The praise melts over you like warm butter. You whimper softly, fingers against his.

"Took care of me, just like I needed," He adds, giving your hands a squeeze. "Now it's my turn to take care of you."

--

You think that it'll end at the shower—that Bradley will shove some clothes at you and nudge you out to your car with a kiss. But there you are, sitting at the counter, wearing your underwear and one of his old t-shirts, and chowing down on the best damn grilled cheese you've ever had. Before you can completely finish the first one, Bradley's tipping another one onto your plate. You glance up guiltily, but he just smiles, turning back to the stove.

"You can have it," You offer.

"Nu-uh," He waves you off. "That's yours. I'll make another one."

"...You don't have to be this nice, you know."

"This isn't a have to, this is a want to. Although," He glances at you over his shoulder, "If you're that used to taking it and no one taking care of you afterward, that's not okay."

"I don't do it a lot," You shrug, "But when I do, it's just, like...I don't know. It's quick. I don't think about it."

"That why you're so used to running?"

"I guess."

Bradley glances back toward you, and you hurriedly look down, taking up the grilled cheese and stuffing a bite into your mouth.

"Does running feel good?"

"...Not really," You mumble around the food.

"Then don't run next time."

"I didn't run this time."

"You tried to."

He's got you there. You raise your thumb, sucking a few crumbs and melted butter off before you glance at Bradley again. You find him watching you with gentle curiosity.

"...I'll let up once you finish that," He nods to the grilled cheese and the glass of water beside your plate. You consider, looking down at the plate and poking a few crumbs.

"Is it okay if I sleep here?" You ask.

You don't dare meet his eye. You hear turn the stove off, and the sound is chased by the steady padding of his feet. You feel the heat of him at your side, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him place a hand against the counter.

And then—he presses a tender kiss to your cheek. Your eyes slip shut, lips pulling with a smile as he murmurs,

"More than okay with it, sweetpea."

"You're a real romantic, Bradshaw. And you know what," You hold up the rest of the sandwich. "This grilled cheese isn't half-bad."

[cdyssey]

Okay, Taissa being a cringefail girlflop is literally one of my favorite jokes ever, but I’m actually in in my feels about her today in thinking about her conversation with Shauna from last season.

She told Shauna that everything she’s done since being rescued hasn’t felt real to her, and I think that’s the text we’re absolutely in conversation with this season in her adult arc.

She’s left her wife, her son, dog, and all of her professional ambitions behind in one fell swoop, seemingly disassociated from all of these things she has been investing in for years upon years.

And it’s absolutely harrowing because the implication is that now that she’s being drawn back into the wilderness, her post-rescue life is no longer real to her.

It never has been.

But the crucial tension is that, yeah, Simone and Sammy and Steve and her senatorship are all very real, and she’s severely, if not irreparably, damaged her relationships with all four.

Being at the compound is probably going to be a respite for all six of the Yellowjackets, where they can briefly shed their skins of domesticity and breathe a little.

What happens when they inevitably have to return to society, though?

What fallout will Taissa Turner have to confront with all these bridges that she’s so thoroughly burned?

[whorevader]

Here's my comparison of what Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padme would do given the chance to go back and change things.

Anakin would keep his mouth fucking shut and try not to change anything EXCEPT he would figure out a way to try and kill Palps RIGHT before Order 66. Might occasionally try to use foreknowledge to spare more people during CW or to help Ahsoka but that's all low priority. Knowing that Padme falls for him I think actually makes him less intense about his affections, trusting that their love will carry through, but more intense about protecting her, if in a more self-sacrificing way on top of murderous way. OH, he also leaves without permission and saves his mom before the raiders can even touch her, maybe with murder, maybe with strategy. I think he struggles not to use the dark side for a while, too, but he also comes to recognize that overemphasis of one side of the force over the other will always lead to extremism and atrocity, whether through active oppression or systemized neglect. He focuses on Mace's saber style as the best compromise he can come up with in the meantime. Obi-Wan gets more and more concerned, depending on when exactly he was sent back, and starts cramping his style, which only increases Anakin's resentment over time. Because on the surface, he's doing exactly what Obi-Wan always wanted him to do, even if he has been shutting out their bond and keeping secrets, so why has he suddenly decided that's no good? This culminates in a series of increasingly bothersome confrontations, blah blah

Obi-Wan takes his foreknowledge to the Council, unsure if he actually went to the future, or if he had a shockingly horrifyingly vivid vision. When the Council is skeptical, he gets frustrated and struggles, bouncing back and forth between obedient and depressed, and paranoid and ornery. Then when the first major event that he predicted happens, he freaks out and the Council calls him in again and debates to hell and back what to do. He maybe starts to realize that the Jedi are less than perfect. Dooku — whom he accused of being a future traitor — confronts him about the nature of his vision, but as a result, he is, to Obi-Wan's horror, the most receptive of the council members? Again, everything will depend on when he gets sent back, still. But as his predictions are true, one after another, the council takes them more seriously... but then they stop being true, bc their changes cause changes which are enough so sidious's plan changes, and now it's increasingly hard to predict whether the actual important and harrowing stuff will occur as it once did and what can be done. Shoots himself in the foot essentially as is his modus operandi

Padme gets sent back to the first film and swoops in before the Jedi can change their minds about training Anakin. She gives him a place with her on Naboo, and the council just gives up on getting him back, essentially, like they only barely agreed to Obi-Wan's plan in the first place... Obi-Wan is distraught and secretly seething that she's interfering with his ability to honor his master's dying wish. She knows how important Obi-Wan was to Anakin, offers to let the two of them engage in correspondence, and is disgusted and less than impressed when Obi-Wan insists that would be pointless and against the Code. She sends a couple updates to him about Anakin's well-being at the beginning, but then stops. Obi-Wan perhaps asks after him eventually, at which point she tells him to just send the kid a letter himself. If this even does occur, then he may or may not actually do so. Padme also buys Shmi out of slavery. She emphatically does not support any of Palp's political endeavours, but because she has the subtlety of a foot to the face when she's upset, and Palpatine's not an idiot, he tries to have her killed much earlier, and Anakin has to save her. She reluctantly tries to tell the Jedi about there still being a Sith, but they dismiss her, except for Obi-Wan. Padme and Anakin have to go on the run from Sheev probably and Obi-Wan keeps in contact with them both. Padme eventually tells Anakin the truth about her having been from the future, Anakin believes her no questions asked... all my thoughts are jumbled with Padme and a lot of these events would probably have to be rearranged based on actual logic, but anyways. It's literally dinnertime so I'm stopping bless

[themissakat]

more year-end unposted work, this one is frankly a wip that i gave up on when i nearly was finished with it rip 

this is the same au as this post, which i didn’t explain at the time :3 

It’s senior year of high school, and Marcy and Anne’s Spring Break college-tour-road-trip is interrupted before it can start, when Anne is kidnapped by Marcy’s great great great great great great(?)... grandmother?

In one fell swoop, Marcy’s life is turned upside down, as she learns of her family’s hidden history on the run from their immortal vampiric matriarch, teams up with her ex-best-friend Sasha, and her Road Trip For the Future turns into a harrowing rescue mission. 

[elfieafterdark]

Harrow picking fights with Gideon because she's about to start her period. Gideon working VERY hard not to get smacked.

Alecto swooping in and putting the tiny girlfriend in air jail.

[rileys-battlecats]

If you haven’t already answered this yet, can I ask why MicaClan chose the territory they currently live in? It seems like an interesting decision to choose such a different area to try to survive in. Although the more lush area probably means less droughts and higher elevation could possibly mean less flood risks, avoiding the two major issues that caused them to move in the first place. They still have to relearn everything though in such a different area. Or was there less thought behind it and it was more just get to higher ground to avoid the water and then they got tired of traveling and decided to stop once they were sufficiently high up?

Also can I ask what kind of border threats they faced when establishing their new territory? Were there other groups of cats? Was it mostly predators and dangerous animals? Did dogs or twolegs pose a challenge to their borders?

Sorry I kinda have a lot of questions haha I just really like your story and characters and settings and everything and wanna know all I can about them and get a deeper knowledge of everything

I AM SO HAPPY TO RECEIVE THIS QUESTION

You're right that there were material aspects as to why they chose to settle where they did; the mountain seemed like a good place to avoid any more catastrophic floods with the high elevation, the spring-fed stream that runs through the territory also seemed like a guarantee against any future droughts, and the area had plenty of prey to feed the clan. But the real deciding factor was the soil!

The idea was basically that they found a place where the very ground seemed to be blessed by Starclan. I've written about this on the blog before, but it was wayyy way back and I haven't mentioned it again since then HAHA, but I based Micaclan's territory on a place I used to hike every now and again. The area used to be the location of a mica mine, and the ground there still sparkles with all the tiny shards of minerals in the ground (which is actually why they're called Micaclan; I gave them the name before I'd fully decided on the clan not being from the area originally lol). So they basically were like "if this isn't a sign from Starclan then I don't know what is" and set up camp! It ended up being the right choice in the end, because they found the Moonmirror in the abandoned mine on their territory, which gave them much needed access to Starclan (even if they can't use it outside of emergencies).

For border threats, I imagine them dealing with all sorts of things, especially in the beginning when they were just establishing their borders. I think of micaclan's territory being far enough from human civilization that they don't have to worry about construction or cars or anything, but close enough that they have a human hiking trail acting as one of their borders, or at least having a hiking trail close enough that they have to deal with the occasional stray dog or human. In addition to this, predators like black bears or coyotes would make trouble for the clan, and maybe a mountain lion drifted through the territory at one point (which would have been a harrowing time indeed).

As for rogues or other groups of cats, I think they might've brought that trouble with them! It's hard to conceal a big group of cats traveling in search of a new territory, and I think they drew some unwanted attention on their way up to the mountain. Maybe other groups noted them, and decided to let the strangers do the hard work of staking out a good territory before swooping in to take their place? I don't think there were any other cats living where Micaclan ends up, so they wouldn't be contesting land with any other resident cats. Those that threatened their new borders were usually looking to try to take their place. Basically they were like "so the weirdos you pegged as 'death within the month' 5 moons ago are actually now thriving and looking well-fed and healthy living on the mountain? I guess it can't be THAT dangerous, why don't we live up there instead? they can find somewhere else again, they're obviously good at finding nice territories."

the general gossip on micaclan as a group through the years basically goes like this: I heard there was a big group (a clan?) passing through looking to set up a new territory, hope they don't settle here -> apparently that big clan that passed through a few moons back is living further up the mountain? wonder how long it'll be before they're eaten by bears -> there's a big group of cats living further up the mountain, maybe the mountain makes for a good territory after all... -> there's a weird cat cult up the mountain and if you step on their turf they will Kick Your Ass

[liesmyth]

my locked tomb hot take of the day is that the way Harrow’s symptoms are presented in HtN line up much more closely with religious OCD with poor insight and psychotic features than schizophrenia. She shows almost no signs of paranoia or delusions (G1deon really was trying to kill her! It’s absolutely true that the other houses would swoop in like vultures if they knew her house’s true position! Her sword and psyche were both actually haunted, to the point that Alecto could hitch a ride in her body. She is never shown in the text to hold a belief that is inconsistent with reality, IMO) and her only true psychotic symptom that we see is hallucinations, and she seems to most of the time have some idea that they aren’t real, which indicates a level of self awareness incompatible with schizophrenia. She also doesn’t seem to display many cognitive symptoms like thought block or disorganized speech and thinking. The rest of her behavior is highly obsessive (compulsive praying, wearing face paint even when nobody is around, obsessive studying, needing her food to be arranged on her plate a certain way) and is very in line with someone suffering from religious scrupulosity. As someone who has experienced both OCD and psychosis, and knows how the symptoms can overlap, this is is the hill I will die on.

I don't feel like I can contribute in any meaningful way to your points, so I'll just put this out into the world and say that I appreciate your insights!

Speaking from a #meta perspective: I know that around the time HtN came out, Tamsyn gave interviews talking about her own experiences being hospitalised for mental health reasons and implied that was what she was partly drawing on when writing HtN. I can't remember if she called Harrow schizophrenic or stated that it was her intention to write her as such, and the author is dead anyway. Plus, obviously, the fact that someone's writing was informed by irl experiences doesn't have to mean that said writing is a 1:1 parallel for those experiences, expecially in a sff setting where ghosts exists and in fact there's something that Harrow can see and nobody else can.

TO ME, the fact that people who experience psychotic episodes can recognise themselves in Harrow's internal monologue and experiences is more meaningful than whether Harrow “really” has a given specific disorder or she's just seeing ghosts. The point is that SHE feels a disconnect from reality and that she's delusional and cannot trust anything she remembers or reads. Nobody in-universe is ever going to diagnose her, you know? The series itself doesn't claim to be straight-up representation for any specific named issues — things like Cytherea's cancer or Harrow's mental state are left ambiguous and partly influenced by magic. I think the fact that readers can relate to some symptoms some characters experience is more meaningful than whether these symptoms all point to something that can be diagnosed unambiguously.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me!

[nophunleague]

stare decisis: chapter five - amica

amica: latin for friend

masterlist

wc: 1142

rafael barba x original female character

Quinn holds a hand over her mouth as the squad watches the vile poor excuses for audition tapes recorded by Brubeck that had been turned over by his attorney. 

“This is horrendous,” Carisi says as Barba stops the most recent tape in their viewing session. “But it’s all legal, every movie he’s shot since Forbes died was in a state with a low age of consent plus a mistake of age defense,” the steam is virtually blowing out of everyone’s ears, frustrated with the unbelievably smart pedophile.

Barba and Quinn have both removed their blazers, Quinn was surprised to learn that he’s a suspenders man. Quinn chose a button down and pencil skirt combo for the day, the first two or three buttons of the top remaining unbuttoned so it didn’t choke her. 

“He’s methodical,” Barba flips through the DVD booklet, every DVD is labeled with the actress’s name, date of birth, and the state it was filmed in. That is until he reaches the last one, his finger rests on it as the gears in his mind turn quickly. Quinn, who had been sitting next to him, cranes her neck to be able to read the writing on the DVD.

“Winnipeg,” they say simultaneously, glancing at each other then to Liv. 

“Did he ever make a movie in Winnipeg?” she asks the squad, Carisi responds that no, he never did. Amaro and Rollins are suddenly racing out to hitch a plane ride to Canada which leaves a confused Carisi. 

“Winnipeg isn’t in our jurisdiction?” he asks, and as Rafael is winding up to make a comment on the young detective’s lack of legal knowledge Quinn swoops in.

“Barba, save him the torment, he would have to take a class on international law for him to even know the statute we’re talking about,” Quinn stands and pats Sonny on the back, she explains, “traveling to another country for the sole purpose of having intercourse with a minor is a federal crime.”

Once Liv and Sonny have left the office Rafael and Quinn return to their respective offices, working on finding everything they can about this movie that was supposed to be filmed in Canada. She’s just finished typing a subpoena for the Writers’ Guild requesting the script for the Winnipeg movie. She leaves her desk and ventures to Rafael’s office. His head is down, well until she throws the document down on his desk. 

“Can I help you?” he huffs. 

“My subpoena for the Writers’ Guild. Proof read it before I file it? I’ll do yours,” she offers. Of all the things she’s faced in life, a typo in a court document is one of the most harrowing things to experience. He looks to the document, then to her, then to the document again.

“You’ve already finished your subpoena?” she nods.

“And I called a friend that I have at DOJ, she’ll be here in an hour. Figured we could loop them in, since it’ll be their charges,” again, eyes to the file, to her, then to the file. 

“You’ve done all of that in,” he checks the rather large watch on his wrist, “an hour?” She moves forward, placing her hands on the edge of his desk, leaning on it. 

“Asked and answered counselor. And I would have gotten more done if you had already finished your subpoena,” she kisses her teeth and pushes herself back off of the desk. “I’ll see you in an hour, it’s my friend, so in my office,” he watches her walk away and calls after her.

“That wasn’t asked and answered, it was two separate, distinct questions!”

***

“Hi there, I was paged here by some big shot ADA.” a woman’s authoritative voice permeates through the closed doors of both Quinn and Rafael’s office’s. Rafael doesn't recognize the voice, but Quinn does. She's instantly sticking her head outside of her door. 

“Sahar al-Kazmi, look what the cat dragged in,” she crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against the doorframe. They’re both beaming as soon as they make eye contact but they stay unmoving. 

“That would make you the cat would it not?” Quinn shrugs.

“I’ve been called worse,” she looks up as if she were exploring the filing cabinets of her mind. “Like bitch.”

The pair laugh then finally hug, it’s been seven or so years since they worked together. Rafael finally peaks out of his office.

“Is this your pain in the ass co-counsel,” Sahar stares him down as she asks. Quinn wouldn’t believe it save for the fact that she saw it, Rafael actually shrunk back into his clothing. 

“Agent Sahar al-Kazmi, this is ADA Rafael Barba. Barba this is Sahar, she’s with the FBI,” they shake hands, share polite greetings. “Let’s move this to my office.” Quinn sits at her desk, Rafael leans against it next to her both watching Sahar as she inventories the contents of the office, Quinn’s eyes follow her closely.

“So you guys used to work together?” Rafael breaks the momentary silence, Sahar’s head snaps toward him. 

“We did, about 7 years ago. It was a different world then,” she looks to Quinn who has started pulling files out to show her. 

“So, we’ve got this teeny-bopper movie producer who is methodical in making sure he can exploit underage girls legally. But - and our squad is working on digging up more on this - he traveled to Winnipeg a few years ago to audition an underage girl for a new movie. But the movie was never made,” Quinn explains, showing Sahar corresponding documents as she goes.

“So you guys are thinking sexual tourism,” Sahar concludes, looking to Quinn then to Barba who nods. Sahar teeters her head back and forth in thought then speaks again, “I think you guys have a compelling case, let me take all of this and we’ll pick him up as soon as we can,” Barba is immediately shaking his head.

“You unfortunately don’t know our squad, they want to be the ones to collar this guy,” he explains with his hands, probably already being able to hear Olivia’s disdain in his head. 

“I don’t know, this really isn’t your guys' jurisdiction,” Sahar starts to say before Quinn begs Sahar.

“Please Sahar, let them get him. I’ll call you as soon as we have him in custody,” Rafael watches as Quinn’s typically hardened exterior fractures just a little bit so that she can beg her friend. Sahar groans but agrees, the lawyers both thank her graciously and Rafael rushes off to call Liv with an update, leaving Quinn and Sahar alone.

Sahar takes the time to again inventory the office, it’s largely devoid of Quinn’s personal touch. 

“Nothing from the Sandpit?” she asks. 

“Like you said, it was a different world back then. It was another life that I don’t like reliving.”