#in a 'let's consider financial security' kinda way

[misskamelie]

*sigh* thinking of the Pascoli-Poe and Leopardi-Beethoven parallelisms. Munch fits somewhere in there, too

[cheshiresense]

Anon:

Fandom: Harry Potter (CLV kinda?)

Character or Ship: Hadrian from CLV, I love Hadrian/Orion but that might not work here so it's totally up to you!

AU/Trope: I'd love to see an AU where instead of the CLV dimension, Hadrian is sent to a universe still with BWL!Neville but more similar to canon. Maybe with Slytherin!Hadrian and Hadrian taking some of the other Slytherins under his wing? I just really like the idea of a world where the "good guys" win and instead of (or in addition to) Orion it's the Slytherins who need Hadrian in their corner. Doesn't have to be all of them, whoever you prefer writing is fine. I am also down for bashing if you need to work that in. Thank you!

Tags: CLV AU, Slytherin!Hadrian, Canonical Prejudices, Draco Malfoy Bashing, kind of?, tbh this is more or less how I see him in canon lol but I know he's a fan favourite so fair warning, he's not the CLV version here, at least not yet.

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Author's Notes: Hello, it's been a while since I've worked on these. I think I mentioned before that my tumblr inbox got glitchy so I actually couldn't find the other 6 requests from the last batch of 10 you guys sent in for 5+ Headcanons. So I set up an airtable form instead and got someone to test it, and this was the one they sent. It works, so in the future, I'll toss out a new post with the form link for more requests, and maybe I'll get through them in a timely manner lol.

If you're not in the UraIchi server, then you might've noticed that I've sort of been MIA on the writing front for a while now, the last time I wrote and posted something was like back in May last year, and honestly I've been kind of tired and burnt out ever since, and real life is kicking my ass a bit, so when I do have spare time, all I feel like doing is reading fics or webnovels and sleeping. But the winter hols were a nice break for me, and I've started on a couple new fic ideas and added to some wips on and off over the past few months, so I'm slowly getting back into it, and this 5+ Headcanons prompt was one of the things I've been working on. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back into posting fics soon.

ANYWAY, on to the stuff you actually care about: Slytherin!Hadrian, so basically amp up the hardened war vet and dial down the friendship magic XD Way back when I first started CLV, I did consider Slytherin for his House but it felt like everybody did that, plus the politics I would have to get into gave me a headache and I felt like I couldn't do it justice anyway, so I went with Hufflepuff. Slytherin does give me more options to play with a powerful Hadrian who has less morals about flinging that around to get what he wants though since he would be viewed as a halfblood at best and he'd need that currency to make sure nobody messes with him, especially if this universe is more canon than CLV (lbr, almost everybody is at least 50% nicer in CLV lol). So okay, let's give this a spin.

(AO3 Link Here -- I’ll add this to the collection fic on my AO3 to make it a round 15 but this one will be the last for that. If I do more, I’ll start a new fic.)

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1.

Hadrian ends up being a Hatstall. He sits on the stool for a full seven minutes as the Sorting Hat sifts through his bloodstained memories with a silence so grim Hadrian is tempted to comfort it. Then it proceeds to send back memories of its own, the major points of recent Hogwarts history that would best help Hadrian fit in - Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; an image of Hadrian's counterpart and an entire family still alive; Quirrell vanquished in first year, a basilisk slain and a diary that bled itself to death in the second, Remus teaching in the third but no Pettigrew in sight; Neville at odds with Potter, Gryffindors at odds with Slytherins, and Death Eater children who hadn't managed to come out of the last war as financially and politically secure as families like the Malfoys, subtly shunned for their parents' sins, while children from the Light side, the winning side, with parents who'd openly defied Voldemort, can do almost no wrong. On the surface, everything looks bright and happy. Beneath it, malcontent and despair bubbles and brews with hardly anyone the wiser, and those who are, are glad to look away.

The Sorting Hat offers no opinions of its own after it is done, only continuing on to extol the virtues of all four Houses while making an argument for why Hadrian would be perfectly suited for each of them in equal measure, before finally leaving the decision in Hadrian's hands.

"Even I cannot be certain where you would do the most good," the Sorting Hat tells him. "Nor do I know which House would do you the most good. There are many children in this school who could use a helping hand such as yours, and likewise, you too would benefit from the same. Who am I to decide which is more important? Perhaps it is most accurate to say that no matter where you end up, who you will help, and who you will allow to help you, a new future will unfold, one made possible only by your existence. Yours is a fate that demands change, Mr. Evans, for better or for worse. But when peril looms on the distant horizon, when our society insists on blind stagnancy, and its people have long stood divided, change is exactly what this world needs. Thus, I leave the choice to you. Where do you wish to go?"

Hadrian says nothing - thinks nothing - for a long deafening minute. The mounting whispers in the Great Hall are easy enough to tune out, and within the confines of his mind, the Hat too remains patiently silent.

The truth of it is - Hadrian is tired. Even now, in this moment, in this place, one year and an entire dimension and seven years away, he still feels like he does on most days— as if he's just walked off a battlefield at the end of one of those kinds of days that can break a man even when you think there's nothing left to break, yet still hyper-alert for the next enemy, the next fight, the next death, because he doesn't know how to do anything else, how to be anything else. On all the rest, of course, it feels as if he never left the battlefield at all.

He is tired, and he honestly doesn't feel like he's capable of helping anyone, not children, not the reflections of his loved ones, and certainly not an entire world that's rapidly revealing itself to be as stuck on a one-way train to hell as his original world had been.

He doesn't want to be a hero, doesn't know how to be one even after all these years, even when other people had always so desperately wanted him to be. A hero, until he'd proven unable to meet their expectations, and then he'd been their villain, right up until they'd needed a hero to stand in front of them again, and round and round and round they'd gone.

The only thing he could never be was just Harry, just himself, and now even Harry Potter is no longer his to claim.

But maybe that's not so bad, not when Harry Potter has always been more story than reality, a patchwork fairytale portrait of a boy, a man, a weapon, a sacrifice, stitched together by every hand except his own.

Maybe Hadrian Evans could be something different.

Gryffindor feels too much like repeating history, and Hadrian would rather not be forced to stare at the majority of those long dead to him day in and day out. Hufflepuff is too prone to crowding together for his liking, persistently eager to be friends with their own members even if they're quick to turn on those who aren't, and Hadrian doesn't think he can bear the overenthusiastic socializing that would require.

 Ravenclaw might be best, a House where even the most introverted can find a home if they have a thirst for knowledge, but at the same time, for a lot of them, once they latch on to a question unanswered or an opinion that doesn't fit their worldview, they won't let go until the question is exhausted or the opinion has conformed to what they consider acceptable, and Hadrian has too many secrets and no more patience to be what others what him to be to fit in with those sorts of people anymore. Besides, he's never quite forgiven that House as a whole. Marietta Edgecombe had been Ravenclaw. Quirrell and Lockhart and Trelawney had been Ravenclaws. Every single one of Luna's bullies had been Ravenclaws. He'd worked with members of that House over the years, taught them back when the DA had been up and running, and even been friendly with some of them beyond just Luna, but generally speaking, he has no positive emotions regarding Ravenclaw. He knows that he isn't being entirely fair, because Voldemort had been from Slytherin, and Pettigrew had been from Gryffindor, and the worst of the lot who'd spearheaded the damaging gossip and baseless accusations incriminating him - first for the Heir of Slytherin debacle in second year, and then the Cup nonsense in fourth year - had all been from Hufflepuff, but still, Ravenclaw simply stands out as that one House that holds no appeal for him.

That really only leaves one place he can go though, and Hadrian finds that he minds that a lot less than he once would've. Slytherin will have its own problems, him being a halfblood at best with a very obvious muggle surname, but Slytherins also respect power, and most of them have the sense to back off if they realize they're picking a fight with an opponent they can't beat. And once that's dealt with, Hadrian will most likely be avoided and left to his own devices, with only the occasional curse to his back to worry about. From a bunch of schoolchildren, that's a negligible issue.

In his head, the Sorting Hat chuckles. "Very well then. If you're sure, better be-"

"SLYTHERIN!"

But Mr. Evans," the Sorting Hat says in the seconds before it's removed from Hadrian's head. It sounds thoroughly amused. "Do not be so quick to underestimate your own heart."

And with that last ominous statement imparted to haunt him, Hadrian stands to lacklustre applause and makes his way to his new House as his tie settles into green and silver stripes.

The briefest of glances over the stretch of the Slytherin table tells him that none of the students seated where most of the fourth-years are gathered have moved to make room for him. That's fine. Hadrian would rather not be boxed in anyway. He takes a seat at the end of the table, smiles at the suspicious first-years around him, and then waits for Dumbledore's opening speech to finish so they can start the feast.

Fifteen minutes later, one treacle tart and a glass of pumpkin juice is all he can manage. He sips at some water for the rest of dinner even as he wishes it was something a lot more alcoholic. He speaks to no one, and no one tries to speak to him, although plenty of prying eyes and sneers of disdain find their way to him throughout the meal.

It makes him feel, Hadrian thinks with some humour, almost nostalgic.

Near the end of the evening, he thinks about going over to the Gryffindor table to find Neville, Ron, and Hermione. But he's in Slytherin now, so he doesn't know how they'll react, and after another moment of contemplation, he decides against it. Not much can embarrass him anymore, but he'd still rather not be put on the spot if the Golden Trio rejects his overture of friendship. It won't help his reputation in Slytherin either if he ends up making a spectacle of himself like that. There's plenty of time tomorrow to see how they'll feel about maintaining ties with a Slytherin without too big of an audience watching, and if they're against it, then, well, it's not as if Hadrian hasn't been living as a recluse over the better part of the past year anyway. He sees no problem carrying on exactly as he has.

Fate sent him here against his explicit permission but she sure as shit can't make him dance.

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2.

Hadrian ends up shuffled into a dorm room with five very familiar Slytherins - Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. He gets the remaining bed that's presumably been empty since the others' first year, and a very pointed silence coalesces at his back as he starts unpacking his clothes into his wardrobe.

He ignores it. Instead, he absently begins a count of how long it will take for someone - he's betting Draco - to put their foot in their mouth first. He casts a glance at the floor-to-ceiling window next to his nightstand; like the Gryffindor dorms, the room is circular so everyone has a view to the outside, but here, instead of winds and open skies, it's lake water that shimmers against the glass, with the shadows of passing aquatic life flickering by. It's not bad, just different; the ambience of it is almost soothing.

Someone clears their throat behind him. Hadrian hangs up his winter cloak before moving on to his books. They each get a desk too, complete with a mini bookcase, which the Gryffindor dorms don't have. They have to do their homework on their beds or in the common room. How unfair. But at least Hadrian gets to benefit from it now.

Someone clears their throat again, louder this time. Hadrian smothers a twist of a smirk and bends over his trunk again to fish out his towels and toiletries. His more personal belongings can remain inside, although he'll have to ward everything to the nines anyway.

A displeased noise that comes out gilded with that distinctly familiar Dudley-esque whine of a child who's been spoiled since birth and has never known hardship reaches his ears, and then finally-

"Are you deaf, Evans?!" Draco demands, and oh, look at that, Hadrian wins the bet.

He straightens and turns, idly fiddling with a packet of quills as his gaze falls on the blond standing puffed up and bristling by the bed opposite Hadrian's on the other side of the dorm. He looks him over, looks at Crabbe and Goyle bracketing him with twin expressions of oafish scorn, looks at Zabini standing a ways away, watching the whole room with a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes, looks at Nott who doesn't look at anyone at all.

His attention returns to Draco, considering him for a moment longer before asking mildly, "Did you say something?"

Draco's cheeks flush pink even as he draws himself up and snaps, "You should at least have enough manners to introduce yourself!" His face narrows into a sneer, and Hadrian can almost predict his next words. "But I suppose even that might be too difficult for a mudblood to learn."

For a second, Hadrian wonders if he should tell him he's a halfblood. Then again, it doesn't really matter, and also some people consider halfbloods to be mudbloods too. And now that he thinks about it, the person he is in this world might actually be a muggleborn. But he was homeschooled so at least one of his fictional parents had to have known magic, right? Then again, they could've just been related to a witch or wizard but were muggles themselves. Who knows. Certainly not him since Fate couldn't be bothered to inform him.

"Evans, are you listening to me?!"

Hadrian blinks out of his thoughts. "Yes, I'm listening, what is it?"

Draco glares. His features are so… pointy at this age that the expression doesn't really carry the impact he's probably going for, but Hadrian figures it would be unnecessarily mean to mention it, so he doesn't. Instead, he quickly reviews everything Draco has said, and there wasn't actually a question anywhere in there, as far as Hadrian can tell, but maybe Draco really does want an introduction. Seems like a waste of breath though.

"Is there a point to introducing myself?" He asks. "Everybody heard my name at the Sorting. You even just used it so it's not like you don't know."

Draco splutters as if that wasn't what he expected Hadrian to say. He recovers after a moment and opts to glower harder instead, as if that would hide the way the pink in his cheeks is slowly turning red. Poor bastard. That's what you get when you have a pale complexion and fluster easily.

"Are you actually a mudblood then?" He demands contemptuously.

Hadrian honestly doesn't know, but he can't say that, so he volleys back, "Does Slytherin accept muggleborns?"

He knows they take halfbloods, but he can't remember any muggleborns in Slytherin, although if there are any, he doubts they would be willing to broadcast it, even if it means inventing a magical parent in their family tree.

"Of course not!" Draco refutes, sounding scandalized.

Hadrian can't tell if that's actually true, or if that's just Draco's own belief, but it does make things easier. "Then…" He shrugs. "If you already know, why are you asking?"

A beat of silence passes, then two. The red deepens in Draco's face as he hisses dramatically, "Are you mocking me?"

Hadrian suppresses a sigh. He probably is being too flippant for someone as high-strung as Draco, but it's still a far sight from mockery. He can definitely do better if he wants to taunt someone. Had his world's Draco been this easily riled up? They hadn't even really gotten into any exchange of insults yet. "I wouldn't say I'm-"

He stops.

Across the room, Draco has pulled out his wand, and when he realizes that Hadrian's broken off mid-sentence, the flush recedes from his face, and a triumphant smirk instantly takes its place instead.

"Since you've been sorted into Slytherin," Draco announces, raising his wand with a ridiculously showy flourish that makes Hadrian twitch with the desire to correct his posture. "You should know your place. Mouthing off to your betters is a good way to get cursed around here, especially when you're in the presence of someone like me." He sneers down his nose even as his chin tips up, all peacock proud. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Even the likes of your kind should've heard of my family." He looks smug, as if a mere surname can protect him from anything when it comes down to it. "You'll be staying here for the next four years, Evans, and I guarantee you'll have a miserable time of it if you get on my bad side. But today's your first day at Hogwarts, so I can be generous. If you apologize, I'll let you go just this once."

An expectant hush falls as Draco finishes his little speech. Hadrian doesn't say anything right away, still turning over the packet of quills in his hands, still waiting. When nothing happens after a good five seconds tick by, and the silence gradually becomes strained, Hadrian finally nods at Draco's wand, "So are you going to use that or not?"

The stunned look of outrage on Draco's face is gold.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Evans!" Draco snarls, jabbing out with his wand. "Oscausi!"

Hadrian has time to arch an eyebrow at the choice of a pseudo-silencing charm before he's flipping a quill into the fingers of his left hand. A swipe of his thumb leaves a chain of runes glittering along its shaft, and then he brings it up, catches the oncoming spell with the tip, and swats it aside with a flick of his wrist, all in one fluid motion. His right hand doesn't stay still either as his wand slides neatly into his palm, and a single wordless modified Expelliarmus darts out and attaches itself to Draco's wand.

The white light of the Mouth-Sealing Charm is sent soaring across the room, shattering against the door in a shower of harmless sparks, and in the heavy silence that follows, Hadrian smiles.

He thinks it's a very bland smile, if he does say so himself. At the very least, he's careful to not look too intimidating or too unhinged, the way he can sometimes get, if some of his dead friends were to be believed, back during the war. Nevertheless, it still makes Draco blanch white, makes Crabbe and Goyle shrink back, makes Zabini lean further back into a convenient shadow and Nott go utterly still from where he's sitting on his bed.

Hadrian glances down at the remains of his writing utensil, most of the barbs now burnt black. It was a regular quill after all, not exactly made to withstand so much magic. He looks back up, at Draco who has a white-knuckled grip on his wand, and with his own wand, he gives the other's a tug, just enough to make Draco's eyes go wide with something like panic, but not enough to actually disarm him and - considering the sheer amount of honed intent in the charm that even Draco can undoubtedly sense - most likely bend the wand's allegiance.

Hadrian holds it for a moment longer, and then lets go. Draco staggers back a step, jerking his wand down and reflexively pressing it into his chest as if he's trying to protect it, or maybe assure himself that it still belongs to him.

Hadrian tucks his wand back up his sleeve before stooping down to pick up the rest of the quills he'd dropped. The burnt one goes in the bin by his desk.

Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves. So Hadrian does.

"That took you almost five seconds," He begins almost conversationally as he opens a drawer to stash his remaining quills away. "From when you decided to fire that spell to actually firing it. And that's not even counting all the time you wasted saying the stuff before that, after you already took out your wand. It's stupid. When you draw with the intent to harm, you shouldn't give any warning at all. And the spell itself was slow. You should work on that."

He pauses, and there's still no response, which he supposes makes sense. He doubts anybody here wants to listen to him preach. He should just wrap things up since the plan is moving along so neatly.

"Anyway, this is pretty unfortunate," He switches gears and smiles again, as fit-for-public-polite as he knows how to be. It doesn't seem to make anyone feel better, but he also doesn't feel like he was that heavy-handed earlier, was he? Ah well, can't change anything now, and it's still in line with what he wants so it doesn't matter.

"I wasn't really expecting to make any friends since I know the average Slytherin's views on blood isn't exactly in my favour," He continues in light tones. "But I was hoping that we could at least remain on civil terms and get along as schoolmates, if only because we'll be living together for the rest of our time at Hogwarts. Since that doesn't seem to be possible anymore though, how about we just go with the simplest solution?"

Hadrian surveys the room and smiles some more. "You ignore me and I’ll ignore you. You attack me and I'll retaliate. An eye for an eye, so to speak. Everybody just needs to mind their own business, and there won't be any problems. That's fair enough, don't you think?"

His gaze settles once more on Draco. "Since you're the only one who's said anything so far, I'll assume you speak for everyone in this dorm. Draco Malfoy, right? So then, do we understand each other now?"

Across from him, Draco shivers imperceptibly like a rabbit caught at the wrong end of a predator's line of sight, but he also swallows and nods and gingerly puts his wand away. It looks like it costs him, but - at least for now - he seems both too shocked and too afraid to try anything else.

"Great!" Hadrian says cheerfully before cocking his head as a thought occurs to him. "Oh, right, one more thing."

He lets his smile fall away. Lets his expression smooth over into marble. And then he lets his magic flare, lets the pressure of it roll across the room like the black merciless depths of a storm-tossed ocean, lets it eclipse them all like death come to call, and then he brings it crashing down, not most of it, not even half, because he hasn't forgotten that these are children, that they're still young, and they can learn, they can be better, and Hadrian doesn't actually want to traumatize them permanently.

But he also remembers Draco - his world's Draco - telling him once, in a fit of aggravated exasperation during one of those times when they'd devolved into insulting each other's House traits yet again because they still hadn't understood what made the other tick, but they had also reached a point in their friendship where they'd started trying to, and kept trying.

"Slytherins respect power," Draco had said, not for the first time, but then he'd also added, for the first time, and haltingly as if he hadn't known why he'd had to explain it at all, "How else are you going to know they're worth your time? Or I guess worth befriending, in your Gryffindor terms."

"You don't decide whether or not to make friends based on how powerful someone is."

"Slytherins don't have friends. I only said friend because you're a Gryffindor and you don't understand anything else."

"Fine, you don't decide whether or not to associate with every single person you come across in your life based on how powerful they are either."

"Why not?"

"Why would you??"

"How else would you know they're strong enough to stand with you? Or competent enough to protect themselves? Power is a good starting line. If they're powerful enough, then they won't be afraid to face your enemies with you, and you can trust them to be capable of keeping themselves safe without having to keep an eye on them every minute of the day. Only brainless Gryffindors prefer doing things like throwing themselves in the line of fire and dying dramatically for each other and calling that a win. Let me tell you something, Potter - it's not a victory when you're forced to suffer a loss. You haven't won anything if you're not around to enjoy the aftermath. So the best allies must be ones who are powerful enough to not only achieve their goals but also survive them."

"…"

"Well, I will grudgingly admit that I didn't put quite that much thought into it when I was younger, but who did? …It's what I believe now though. Did I finally get it through your thick skull this time, Potter?"

After that particular conversation, Hadrian had understood a little better, even if he hadn't entirely agreed with it all. But he hadn't forgotten a single word, and Draco was right— as they are, these kids definitely aren't thinking that deeply, but Hadrian thinks that the core of it at least is the same. Slytherins respect power. And he has power in spades, so at the very least, he can make them respect him.

Of course, if that also happens to make them afraid of him, then, well, he was never aiming to be their friend or even ally anyway. So long as they leave him alone, it's fine.

He brings his magic to bear, allows the weight of it to fall and fall and fall, and he watches dispassionately as Draco goes grey, as Crabbe and Goyle's knees buckle, as Zabini flinches back like he wants to melt into the walls, as Nott curls into himself and may or may not have stopped breathing.

Hadrian catches Draco's eye, and doesn't let him look away. "I have no betters. Do I make myself clear?"

He'd spent half his life being beaten down by the Dursleys, told over and over that he was worth nothing, that he didn’t deserve food or clothes or kindness, that he was a waste of space and better off dead. He'd spent a good chunk of his Hogwarts career obliviously dancing to Dumbledore's tune, and then some more of it knowingly dancing to it because what else could he do with a target on his back. He'd spent over twenty years shackled to Voldemort, to his parents' legacy, to a war that had loved him a whole lot more than he'd ever loved it. And he'd been Fate's everything since before he'd ever even been born.

Some days, he wonders if he even knows what freedom is anymore. Or if he's ever known at all.

But one thing he is sure of is that he will never passively tolerate anyone controlling what he can or cannot do ever again.

Draco whimpers something like agreement, like deference, like surrender, and- that's enough. Hadrian reels it all back, all his magic hidden away again, and in the dizzying wake of its abrupt disappearance, Draco collapses, barely catching himself and his dignity with the edge of his bed. Crabbe and Goyle do crash to the ground, while Zabini has to steady himself against his nightstand, and Nott sways like he might faint.

Too much, Hadrian thinks distantly, and tries to feel bad about it because he really hadn't meant to go that far, but his lines in the sand have also long since blurred away beneath a tide of blood and corpses.

Mostly, he just feels tired, and it has nothing to do with his displays of magic tonight.

He breathes. Turns. Grabs a towel and his underwear and pyjamas and pretends everything's fine. It is fine, now. He's gotten what he wanted. "It's getting late. I'll shower first. Won't be long."

And then he's exiting stage right, straight into the bathroom, and it's a relief to close the door behind him.

Of course, that sentiment is one that's shared by probably every single person in the room.

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3.

Theo is awake before anyone else the next morning. Or at least he thinks he is because he usually is. But everybody's curtains are drawn, and after last night, he doubts anyone was able to sleep right away, if at all, with the exception of their new roommate.

Hadrian Evans. Great Merlin, where had this person even come from? Even just the memory of his magic - vast and endless and utterly uncompromising - pressing down on them like the sky had fallen on their heads, makes his hands want to shake all over again. For a long, suspended, suffocating moment that could've lasted an eternity, Theo could've sworn he was going to die last night. And the most terrifying thing is that he is absolutely certain that Evans hadn't even been trying that hard.

Evans had radiated enough raw power to force all of them to their knees if he'd really wanted to. But he'd held back. He'd only given them a glimpse, just enough to warn them off. The rest of his magic had been out of reach, but present. It was there, reined in and waiting, but the shape of it and the depth of it had felt… unfathomable, as if it had no limits.

And that doesn't even account for the spellwork he had done. Theo had recognized the Disarming Charm, but last he checked, the average Expelliarmus only deprived a wizard of their wand. A more powerful one might send the target flying and even knock them out, but he's never heard of one that can… threaten to disarm your opponent at your leisure and - if Theo wasn't mistaken - force the wand to forsake its owner. Everybody knows that that's always a possibility in a real duel; if you win and take your opponent's wand, then that wand might not work for its owner anymore. But most of the time, you have to mean it, you have to set out with the intent to do it, the buildup of magic in the duel itself gives that intent a foundation, and there has to be an actual possibly life-threatening conflict of interest between the parties too, a real enmity that even last night - however excessive the exchange - shouldn't have qualified. Squabbles between students just don't count. If it did, with the Disarming Charm being taught in school, there would be a lot more students in need of new wands. The only way Theo can rationalize it happening anyway is that Evans must've been strong enough to compel the wand itself to leave its owner.

Pity he hadn't gone through with it in the end. Evans is powerful, but he's also… Theo is hesitant to call him soft, but if it had been Malfoy, if it had been Blaise or even himself or pretty much any other Slytherin, they would've done it. He's unsure of why Evans hadn't.

And then there had been the thing with the quill. Theo can't even explain that, and he'd mulled it over for half the night. He has the… incidental fortune of occupying the bed closest to Evans', so as soon as Evans had ducked into the bathroom last night, and the others had been distracted with pulling themselves together and possibly trying not to wet themselves, Theo had chanced a swift peek into Evans' wastebasket.

It really had looked just like any other regular quill, one that'd been burnt completely black and missing most of its barbs, but it had been a quill. He'd been tempted to open Evans' desk drawer to check the other quills, but - with Evans' ultimatum still ringing in his ears - he hadn't been that suicidal, so he'd refrained. But from what he could recall, the pack it had come from had looked just like the mass-produced writing utensils one could find in any stationery shop in Diagon Alley.

Whatever he'd done though, he had made it look like child's play. A quill and a Disarming Charm, so fast that Theo could've blinked and missed it. Could someone like that really have remained in obscurity all this time? Evans had apparently been homeschooled up until now, and they haven't even attended their first class yet, but by anyone's definition, after last night, he can't claim to be anything less than a prodigy.

It's… unbelievable. And not even because of any of the blood purity ideals that Malfoy likes to preach about. Theo doesn't think much of muggleborns or halfbloods, but he also doesn't think much of most purebloods, so he's fairly certain it's not high society prejudices that's driving his disbelief. It's just… He's never met anyone - not even his father, and Merlin knows Theo's been afraid of him for as long as he can remember - as effortlessly powerful as Evans had shown himself to be, and he doesn't understand how nobody has heard even a whisper of a rumour of this boy before he'd arrived at Hogwarts.

Someone like him shouldn't exist. Or perhaps there has been one, and that had been how the Dark Lord had made so many people bow at his feet or cower in their homes, but Theo had never met him in person, and so all he has is Evans' example to draw from. And not a single witch or wizard whom Theo's ever met could compare.

Has Evans just been hiding himself? Maybe his family hid him before they deemed him ready to face the rest of the world, and he's certainly proven that he can hide it when he wants to. But what kind of family can bring up this kind of wizard? Evans is only fourteen. None of them had thought him anything special before he'd revealed exactly how wrong they were. And he probably wouldn't have done even that much if Malfoy hadn't immediately taken a go at him, always so obsessed with making sure everyone knows he sits at the top of the food chain.

Well, he certainly doesn't anymore, and if Theo hadn't been caught up in the confrontation last night just like everyone else, he would've been tempted to applaud the spectacle of Malfoy being taken down a peg or ten. Before Evans' arrival, Theo was the one Malfoy liked to take jabs at every few days, and it was only partly because he'd had a halfblood mother. The Notts could've been said to be respectably rich once upon a time, but after the war had ended, with his father's political clout being almost nonexistent and most of their extended relatives either dead or in Azkaban, they'd been easy pickings for the Aurors. His father had escaped prison time with the Imperius excuse and some bribes, but that hadn't prevented multiple raids on their home and a hefty list of fines that had left their vaults near-depleted. And what little fortune they have left is reserved almost entirely for Theo's father's alchemy obsession that's more often focused on illegal research topics than not, as well as his black market dealings, although neither of those at least is widely known, or who knows if they would even have their ancestral manor left after the Aurors were done with them?

Malfoy loved reminding him of almost every one of those things as often as he could, and the most absurd thing is that - more than being born from a halfblood mother or poverty or loss of prestige - Theo's pretty sure Malfoy's biggest reason for disliking Theo is because Theo had refused to follow him around like Crabbe and Goyle back in first year.

So here they are now, and after three years, Theo had more or less become inured, not to mention it wasn't as if Malfoy only bullied him, or even bullied him the most - nobody could top that list while Potter and Weasley were around to fight for first place on it - but it had still been annoying and stressful because Theo was the only one who had to share a dorm with him. Considering the Malfoys' standing in society however, all he could ever do was stay silent and bear with it.

Admittedly, he'd been a little happy when Evans had been sorted into Slytherin, because between Theo and an unknown halfblood-at-best with no allies and no significant family background to speak of, the perfect prey in every way, Malfoy would definitely enjoy targeting the latter more, and even if the blond ponce still came after Theo, it would at least take some of the pressure off of him.

Now… well. That will still probably pick back up sooner or later, but Theo resents it less when he thinks about how it will take at least a few weeks before Malfoy will be able to strut around again after last night's humiliation. And also…

He thinks again of last night, of how Evans had basically smacked Malfoy down like he was nothing more than an unruly upstart getting above himself, and of that quiet oath too - I have no betters - and it hadn't even been pride or arrogance or superiority, only stone-cold certain fact.

He thinks of the fear he'd felt, but behind that, beneath that, more than that, there had also been nothing less than a breathless, heady, wondrous sense of reverence that had settled itself behind his ribcage, in his lungs, in the sudden hungry swell of curiosity that he'd just barely managed to lock behind his teeth, and it had only grown stronger after a night of fitful sleep.

He wants to see that magic again. He wants to know what else Evans can do.

And most importantly, he wants to know if he can do it too.

-0-

Ten minutes later, Theo hears Evans pull his bed curtains back. Very cautiously, he twitches his own curtains open half an inch to watch Evans get up, stretching languidly and scrubbing a hand through his messy black hair before gathering up his toiletries and a change of clothes. Like this, he looks completely normal, nothing at all like someone who could flatten all five of his roommates with a thoughtless flex of his magic. Even his eyes are just green now, no longer glowing like the light of a Killing Curse.

Of course, then Evans waves a hand at his window curtains, which obediently sweep open in response, and… yes, why not? Wandless magic seems par for the course for Evans, even if Theo has only ever heard of a handful of seventh-years capable of some very basic wandless spells if they concentrate hard enough.

Evans leaves for the bathroom as if casual uses of wandless magic is an everyday occurrence for him, and only after the door has closed does Theo let himself relax.

Evans had never even glanced over, but somehow, Theo thinks the other boy had known he was being watched anyway. But he'd said nothing, hadn't even given any indication that he'd noticed, let alone minded. Theo still isn't sure why he'd let Malfoy off so easily yesterday - because on hindsight, when it came down to it, all Evans had really done was scare them and scare Malfoy most of all; despite the verbal abuse and even the Dark charm Malfoy had shot at him, Evans hadn't actually hurt any of them in return - and Theo doesn't get it but maybe part of it is just because Evans doesn't take offence easily.

It seems unwise to Theo to not at least dole out some injuries as a reminder when that offence had been as insolent as Malfoy's, but perhaps Evans has his own measure of such things. Besides, Malfoy's known to say worse. Theo's looking forward to what happens if Malfoy forgets himself and says something even more loathsome. It's not impossible. Malfoy has been unchallenged since he came to Hogwarts. He's used to saying and doing whatever he wants, even to the upper years and those outside his own House. Most people ignore him when they can and indulge him when they can't, or otherwise manage or placate him with their own methods, but the one thing no one has ever done is tell him no, tell him to stop and make it stick. Potter and Weasley tend to give as good as they get, what with how short their tempers are, but they're louder and more obvious about it, so they get caught more often, which just makes them even angrier, so it never actually feels like they win, even when Malfoy doesn't either. Certainly, no amount of lectures or point loss has managed to deflate his ego.

But now there's Hadrian Evans. Theo doesn't need a second demonstration to know that Malfoy is outclassed in every way, but funnily enough, Malfoy himself might need it.

Theo eyes the bathroom door for a moment longer before finally getting up himself. He's barely set his feet on the rug before Blaise - in the bed on Theo's other side - also whips open his curtains, looking far more alert than he ever has this early in the morning.

For several seconds, they stare at each other in silence. And then - because he isn't sure if the other three boys in the room are awake yet - Theo pitches his voice even lower than usual and says, "He said Malfoy spoke for us."

Blaise blinks twice, and then something like distaste curves up at one corner of his mouth. "I heard."

Theo nods. They're on the same page then. Neither of them is particularly keen on this opinion that Evans has regrettably formed, Theo because of obvious reasons, and Blaise because he's Blaise.

Blaise has always been strange. He's the type who gets along with everyone and gets along with no one. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone - biased Gryffindors aside - who would say a bad word about him, but they'd probably have to think a while if you asked them to describe something of personal significance about him too. It's not that he's average - he's never failed a class, and he's especially good at Potions - but for all that he can carry a conversation in a way that makes everyone feel comfortable and included, and he could probably talk rings around a politician without making them feel stupid, he also never lets anyone close enough to actually get to know him. He's approachable, but only when he wants you to approach him. He's generous with his smiles, but sometimes, it feels a little like he's laughing at you. He might say something condescending or spiteful to you one day, but he has the kind of charisma that makes you forget that the very next. People might call him friend and invite him over for a chat or a game of chess, but most don't make any attempts to go beyond that. And if you know what to look for, as Theo has learned to do, you would realize - Blaise views the world like it's one big boring joke, and his estimation of most of the people in it is probably somewhere around the level of dancing clowns.

Theo doesn't mind. The two of them aren't friends either. They're also not enemies though, and occasionally, they can be allies, but only when Blaise feels like it. Sometimes, the other boy will distract Malfoy from messing up Theo's potion in class or launching yet another diatribe on all of Theo's deficiencies, but Theo will never ask him to because he has nothing to repay Blaise with.

It works for them. Blaise does what Blaise wants, and even Malfoy can't control him. Theo is secretly envious of that— with the Zabinis' seat of power in Italy, it means they don't have that much clout in Britain, and yet nobody messes with Blaise, not even the few who don't buy into Blaise's charm or simply hate him because he's a Slytherin. Not even Malfoy messes with him, and even Theo can't tell if it's Malfoy's self-preservation instincts kicking in to ensure that he isn't about to go insulting someone with a black widow mother like Blaise's, or if Malfoy genuinely hasn't noticed that Blaise doesn't respect him at all no matter how pleasant his words can be. Honestly, when it comes to Malfoy, there's a decent chance of either option being true.

With all that in mind though, it's not a surprise that Blaise isn't pleased with being slotted in as one of Malfoy's lackeys, especially by someone as impressive - or, as Blaise might put it, entertaining - as Hadrian Evans has swiftly proved himself to be.

"It's fine," Blaise says next, rolling out of bed to get ready for the day. He's already regained his typical lazy slouch, as if he hadn't been just as terrified as the rest of them last night. His eyes slide to the bathroom, then away, unreadable but more focused than Theo's ever seen them. "We live in the same dorm, and we'll attend at least most of the same classes. He'll see soon enough that we don't share the same opinions as Malfoy."

Theo watches him dig into his wardrobe. "And then?"

"Then?" Blaise tips a more familiar look of knowing amusement at him. "Then you do what you want, and I'll do what I want, and at the very least, we'll have the good sense to not throw ourselves straight onto a hippogriff's talons like dear Draco."

Theo smothers a snort and rises to his feet. Neither he nor Blaise take Care of Magical Creatures, but everybody had heard of Malfoy's idiocy last year. The phrase "my father will hear about this!" had reached a record high by winter's end. Not much had come of it, not when Hagrid had had the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore championing him. Even Lucius Malfoy would - and had, more than once over the years - find it difficult to contend with the British wizarding world's vaunted war heroes when they join forces. In the end, Hagrid could continue teaching so long as he did it alongside a second professor hired by the school, and even the hippogriff got to live. Malfoy had not been happy, and he'd made sure everybody knew it too, but at least he'd also whined less about it once Slytherin House had learned to snigger about it where he wouldn't hear.

But 'throwing oneself onto a hippogriff's talons' had become rather popular vernacular ever since, subtle enough that even Malfoy couldn't call anyone out on using it without embarrassing himself, but funny to everyone who understood, and nobody could even say who'd started the phrase. Theo's money would be on Blaise though.

The bathroom is spelled so that nobody outside can hear anything when the door is shut, but they can hear the lock click open just fine, and almost in tandem, he and Blaise both immerse themselves in picking out their outfits for the day as if it's a task that requires every last bit of their attention.

Evans walks out. True to his word, he ignores them completely, neither greeting them nor sparing them a glance as he moves back to his section of the dorm. Theo watches him out of the corner of his eye as the boy folds his pyjamas away before proceeding to pack his bag. He catches a glimpse of an Ancient Runes textbook, and his mind abruptly flashes back to the quill. But… that can't be right.

Evans shuts his bag, pulls on his robes, and toes on his shoes. Like this, there's something vaguely familiar about him that Theo can't place right away, and the thought is gone again as Evans slings his bag over his shoulder and strides for the door.

He still doesn't look at any of them, and he's gone from the room a moment later. They might as well have been empty air.

Theo's fingers tighten around the shirt he's holding. Somehow, he-

-doesn't like it.

-0-

Malfoy gets up two minutes after Evans is gone, moving around with an exaggeratedly unaffected sort of poise that makes Theo want to roll his eyes. At least the blond doesn't try to make conversation until Crabbe and Goyle wake up as well.

Evans aside, Theo is the first out of the room, as per usual, although this time, Blaise accompanies him up to the common room and out of the Dungeon. It takes no time at all to arrive at the Great Hall, and this early, most of the four House tables are still empty of students, although more and more are gradually drifting in in groups of threes and fours.

Unlike the other Houses who like cramming into whatever space they see, Slytherins are more political about it. The end seats are left to the outcasts or first-years who don't know better yet, while the midway point of the table is typically reserved for the most influential students, such as those with the best grades or the largest range of social connections or the strongest family background, or some combination of the three. And everybody else arranges themselves between the two extremes accordingly. The only time that changes - from what Theo has heard - is when someone is so magically powerful that they can overwhelm everyone else. Then it doesn't matter what grades or connections or background they have because magic is respected most of all, although they would usually have some qualifications in those other areas. But either way, they would be given reigning place of pride in the middle with their chosen followers around them, and everybody else would sit where they're told to sit, regardless of their accomplishments.

Someone like that hasn't come along in fifty years though, not since the Dark Lord was still at Hogwarts.

So it's jarring to see Evans seated at the very end, furthest away from the High Table, with a book open in front of him and a steaming mug in one hand, but Theo supposes it shouldn't be. He's newly transferred in, and a halfblood besides, so he probably doesn't know about the traditional seating arrangement, and since it's still just the second day of school, it's not as if anybody else outside their dorm knows that Evans is anything but the unfortunate fourth-year with a muggle surname sorted into Slytherin, so he really can be considered an outcast.

Theo exchanges a look with Blaise before tentatively taking a seat at their usual spot a few feet away from the halfway point of the table. It doesn't feel right to… go over Evans' head like this, but it's not like they can really do anything about it at the moment. Theo in particular is technically sitting above his station, but his family is still one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, no matter how far it's fallen, and he gets decent grades in almost every class. He's also on friendly terms with Blaise, and the fact that he shares a dorm with Malfoy is a double-edged sword. Malfoy has the status to sit near the middle ever since he was a first-year, and it wouldn't look very good for him if he's seen completely spurning a Nott in his generation. So Theo is largely left alone so long as he looks like he's nominally part of Malfoy's group during mealtimes.

Theo spends the next five minutes sneaking sidelong glances down the table. Blaise does the same, and neither of them is obvious about it so nobody comes up to ask them any questions. Other Slytherins begin filing in, and more than one wrinkles their nose or sneers when they pass Evans, as if they've smelled something repulsive.

Theo has to make an effort not to wince every time it happens. Blaise watches with a shallow smirk hitched across his face and something cold and callous and thoroughly amused in his eyes.

By the time Malfoy - with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him - sits down across from them, about half the table is full, plates of breakfast have started appearing, and Evans still hasn't looked up from his reading.

Malfoy - much less subtle - shoots something sulky and resentful with just a dash of fear down the table and mutters, "Doesn't even know how to sit properly."

Theo really does roll his eyes this time, although he makes sure to do it down at his scone. Before anyone can say anything else though, Evans unexpectedly straightens, his attention finally lifting from his book. Malfoy immediately stiffens as well like he thinks Evans had heard him from all the way down the table, which Theo wouldn't put past Evans's ability but also doesn't think that Evans thinks that Malfoy is worth that effort to eavesdrop on.

Evans looks around, but not at any of the Slytherins. He cranes his head over one shoulder, seems to catch sight of whatever he's looking for, and gets up, shutting his book and tossing it back in his bag. Then he's making his way across the Hall, past the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, straight over to the Gryffindor table that's only partially filled at the moment but is also hosting the Golden Trio, who had just come down for breakfast.

 Evans stops a few feet away, and Longbottom, Weasley, and Granger turn to face him. What Theo can see of their expressions indicate that they're surprised and a little wary, but they also seem like they know each other. They converse about something, Weasley makes some exaggerated hand gestures, Granger smacks him, and then Evans says something else that makes the Gryffindors burst into laughter, startled but bright.

And then Evans moves forward and-

-sits down.

At the Gryffindor table.

Longbottom and Granger are smiling, and even Weasley - with his hatred for everything Slytherin - seems fine with it, going back to plating more food for himself while passing some sausages over to Evans.

In Theo's peripheral, Malfoy's face has lost so much colour that he could pass for a ghost. Theo can't tell if he's just that offended or if he's actually managed to comprehend the fact that he's already alienated possibly the most magically powerful student at Hogwarts from Slytherin House, to the point where that student doesn't even want to eat at the same table as them, and classes haven't even started yet.

Theo can't tell, nor does he care, but if he'd ever needed any more reasons to despise Draco Malfoy, this would be it.

He averts his gaze from Evans, even if the mere thought of him preferring a bunch of Gryffindors - and those Gryffindors at that; the only ones worse would be Potter's lot - over his own House is… grating. But staring isn't going to win Theo any favours and might just tick Evans off. Besides, there are plenty of others who have noticed a Slytherin sitting with Gryffindors, and they're staring enough for ten of him.

He starts on his breakfast. School has just begun. There's plenty more time in the future to observe Hadrian Evans.

-0-0-0-

4.

Within the space of a week, Theo is cautiously pleased to find that he shares all nine classes with Evans. The core subjects are mandatory of course, but in addition to Ancient Runes, Evans also takes Arithmancy, both of which Theo is also studying, and after three weeks, he gets a slightly more detailed picture of what Evans is capable of.

In class, Evans doesn't stand out, or at least not in a way most people would notice. He doesn't take the initiative to answer questions posed by the teachers, and his spells and potions aren't particularly dazzling when they're assigned practical classwork.

But every time a professor calls on him, Evans always answers correctly. Every time they have to practice a new spell, Evans doesn't clamour to be the first to show off, and he isn't the one who produces it with the most eye-catching burst of magic, but when he's asked to show his progress, he always does it exactly the way the teacher demonstrated it at the beginning of class. Even in Potions, all he does is work discreetly in the back corner on the Slytherin side of the room. He never finishes early, but he also never finishes late, never failing to turn in a textbook-perfect potion ten minutes before class ends, and a couple times, Theo catches Snape watching Evans with an inscrutable expression after the boy quietly hands in yet another flawless potion.

After three weeks, Theo can conclude that while Evans doesn't deliberately dumb himself down, and in fact is performing spectacularly across the board, he does it in such a reserved, inconspicuous manner that even most of the professors probably aren't going to notice until they've graded a good few months' worth of homework and tests.

He does it for every subject. Every single one, except Ancient Runes, and Theo is convinced that that's less because Evans didn't try, and more that… well, some brilliance just can't be hidden.

In the third week, when Babbling hands back their first assignment - Acceptables and Poors all around of course; some days, Theo isn't sure if he wants to strangle Babbling or himself, just to put himself out of the misery that is attempting to understand anything their Runes professor says - she holds Evans back at the end of class, and half the students snicker like they think he's in trouble or did so badly that even Babbling can't stand it, and it's the best joke they've ever seen. But two days later, some papers that Evans has left out on his desk while he's off doing something else, probably with his Gryffindor buddies, catch Theo's eye while he's on his way to his own desk. More specifically, the symbol of the Department of Magical Education stamped on them catches Theo's eye, and after some very hasty and very undignified neck-straining and squinting from a prudent five feet away, he more or less understands.

Babbling hadn't held Evans back because he was doing badly. Babbling had held him back because he was doing so good he would be sitting his Ancient Runes O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams on the twenty-third of October.

Three minutes after that revelation, Theo's still sitting somewhat dazed in his chair when Malfoy returns, Crabbe and Goyle in tow. The blond also spots the papers on Evans' desk and - after suffering day after day of, in Malfoy's increasingly belligerent opinion, being disgraced by Evans due to all the time he was spending with Gryffindors, and even three of the ones Malfoy hates most - practically lights up with a malicious sort of glee at the opportunity to get a little revenge.

He seems to have already forgotten that first night's lesson, and it hasn't even been a month yet. Sometimes, Theo is honestly baffled by Malfoy's Sorting into Slytherin. What ambition is there in a boy whose solution to everything in life is to fall back on his father and surname and family money? What cunning is there to speak of when he so often acts without even considering the option of leaving himself a way out, just in case his taunts and schemes backfire on him one day?

Or perhaps the real mystery is how he's managed to go this long without anyone telling him that the world won't always bend to his demands.

"O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams?" Malfoy says loudly as he wanders over to read the papers. He scoffs. "No matter how much magic he has, there's no way that's possible. He's just a fourth-year. And a halfblood! I bet he paid Babbling to sign him up for them. Everybody knows she's not all there so Evans wouldn't even have to pay her a lot to persuade her."

Theo flicks a glance at Blaise, who'd brought up the rear, a few seconds behind Malfoy, and had entered on near-inaudible footsteps in time to witness this latest snowballing disaster. The taller boy's lip curls, and his next words come out in such a nonchalant drawl that it takes a moment for Malfoy to register the bite of them, "Why would he do that though? He's not you."

Malfoy flushes an unflattering shade of red. "Zabini! That's not funny!"

Blaise's insults are always taken as jokes. Theo thinks that's the only way Malfoy can weather them, because he doesn't truly dare to cross Blaise, so even if he does know better, he still has to feign ignorance.

"It can't be possible," Malfoy repeats, turning back to the papers. "Otherwise, why hasn't he said anything about it? If it were me, I'd let everyone know! Obviously, he knows he'll fail, so he doesn't dare to spread it around."

Theo tries to wrap his mind around that logic, fails, and gives it up as a bad job.

"Then, why is he taking them?" Crabbe suddenly pipes up, blinking with a befuddled air in Malfoy's direction.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Obviously, Crabbe, it's to impress the Boy Who Lived. You've seen how Evans is constantly fawning over Longbottom." And there's the jealousy leaking into his voice even as it strengthens as if he's gaining confidence in his conjecture the longer he speaks. "He's still just a vulgar halfblood with subpar upbringing after all. He needs political connections if he wants to make anything of himself in our world. And Longbottom's a soft touch, and an idiot besides at everything that isn't digging in the dirt. Just trying to take the exams is probably enough to make him think Evans is a genius."

He takes another step forward, almost hovering over the desk now, childish spite tarnishing his features. "Let's see what the rest of Slytherin thinks of this. We are in the same House so Evans should look for support from real purebloods. I'll help him out."

Malfoy reaches out, and Theo goes still, staring, avid and unblinking.

(Greedy.)

Hadrian Evans does not disappoint him.

Malfoy's hand lands on the papers, and it's as if a miniature explosion takes place. There's no warning as the desk ignites with enough interlocked, interwoven, bloody intricate runes to send anyone reeling. It blankets the entire desk in layers of circles and lines and eye-watering spirals, before even those disappear in a blaze of brilliant silver light that pulses once before bursting outward and knocking Malfoy clean off his feet.

Malfoy screams as he's sent flying across the room in a tangle of flailing limbs and flapping robes. Coincidentally - or not? - he lands on his bed in a graceless upside-down heap, the bag he's still wearing smacks him in the face, and the momentum tumbles him straight over the far side of his bed and onto the floor with a final muffled thump that cuts Malfoy's shriek to a yelp.

The light disappears, along with the runes. The room goes eerily quiet, and for a long moment, nobody moves.

It's Blaise who reacts first.

He laughs.

It's enough to snap Malfoy out of his stupor. The blond scrambles to right himself, pushing to his feet, fury and humiliation writ large across his face as he opens his mouth to shout, "Shut up, Zabini! Wait until my father hears about this! Evans will regret-"

There's a clatter. The door opens.

Malfoy shuts up so fast Theo wouldn't be surprised if he bit his tongue.

Evans steps inside, and then stops. He looks around, looks at his desk, looks at a still dishevelled and increasingly pallid Malfoy, and then he shuts the door behind him and heaves a very deep sigh.

"Seriously?" He asks in rhetorical tones. "I just went to borrow a library book. I couldn't have been gone for more than thirty minutes."

Nobody says anything. Evans sighs again before striding over to his desk. He raises a hand and combs his fingers through the air— or perhaps something only he could see, and that's proven correct as a runic array shimmers into existence, swirling together before reshaping itself into-

-a memory.

Specifically, it's a replay of everything Malfoy had said and done as soon as he'd gotten within three feet of Evans' belongings, complete with sound and colour. It's basically a pensieve without the pensieve or the removal of memories to supply it.

Theo wants so badly that his teeth ache with the leashed desire to ask a million questions immediately.

Patience, he reminds himself.

"Hm," Evans says once the memory's run its course, and the runes wisp away once more. Theo is both surprised and not when the other boy proceeds to pull out his chair, sit down, and dig out his library book, clearly intent to continue his work.

Behind him, Malfoy seethes, and before he can think better of it, or he simply doesn't think, he barks out, "Do you think you can treat me this way, Evans? Do you know who my father is? When I tell him about this-"

"Tell him then," Evans interjects, leaning back to slant a cool look at Malfoy. "Tell him you tried to steal my things, and my wards tossed you onto your bed, and the only thing it really bruised was your ego. Or you can lie and make up something that would make you more of a victim, and big bad mudblood Hadrian Evans bullied you terribly. What's the worst that could happen? Expulsion?" He huffs a laugh, and as far as Theo can tell, the thread of mirth that laces the sound is astonishingly sincere. "Malfoy, I don't actually care. I don't need Hogwarts."

He really doesn't. Worse comes to worst, which other school would be daft enough to not scoop him up if they see what he can do with runes? And that's not even getting into everything else he can do. Any school would accept him in a heartbeat and then laugh themselves to tears if Lucius Malfoy actually managed to get him ejected from Britain's sphere of influence on some trumped up charges just because his son went crying to him. Besides, since Evans had been previously homeschooled, he could always just return to that as well.

Malfoy opens his mouth, then closes it, and he does that a couple times, eyes wide in his face like he's never met anyone who has stonewalled him this way, who has challenged his authority so directly, more than once, and yet remains utterly unintimidated and untouchable.

Evidently, he never has.

Evans regards him for a few seconds more before sighing once more. "I thought I was clear enough that first night, but apparently not. When I say 'attack', I don't just mean with a wand. All my things are off-limits unless I say otherwise, so if I were you, I would keep my hands to myself. You don't want to know what my wards will do to you if they sense intentions worse than just petty theft. I hope you won't forget again."

He holds Malfoy's faltering gaze for a moment longer before turning back to his books and papers. Malfoy stumbles back a step as if he's been physically released, and he looks like he wants to pitch a temper tantrum but also doesn't dare. In the end, he storms out of the room without even straightening his robes or smoothing back his hair, and nobody tries to stop him or go after him, not even Crabbe or Goyle, who've both retreated to their beds, shoulders hunched, almost bowed, angled almost in Evans' direction.

Evans is already poring over his library book though, quill in one hand, inkwell set out, fresh parchment beside it. It's clear he's done interacting with the lot of them.

Theo almost lets it go, as he has every other time he wants to speak to Evans, to ask him questions, to know. He's already biting his tongue and swallowing down the words and opening his bag to fish out his homework.

Except-

It's been three weeks. Theo can be patient when he has to be, but more and more, it's… starting to feel like he doesn't have to be. He's had an entire childhood's worth of practice at dissecting emotions, at looking at a person's face and words and actions and taking all of them into account to figure out how they really feel, if they're angry at him or upset with him, if they're about to lash out even when they're smiling, or if there's still time to appease them even if they look like they're about to go for their wand.

Evans is harder to read than most, but at the very least, Theo can tell that he doesn't get angry often. In fact, there's only ever been that one time, that first night, and even for most of that incident, Evans had only acted to secure his own safety in their dorm once it became clear that Malfoy wasn't going to leave him alone otherwise. None of it had been driven by rage, not even when he'd nearly drowned them in the undertow of his magic over that particular handful of words Malfoy had jeered at him. And ever since then, Evans hasn't done anything except go about his business while ignoring theirs. That went for the rest of Slytherin too, and even some students in other Houses who don't like the fact that he's a Slytherin. Sometimes, they make snide remarks, usually behind his back, sometimes within his hearing range, and to a man, every student in their House has openly shunned him since he went to sit with the Golden Trio that first breakfast, but Evans has never given them a second glance, or really even a first glance, not out of anger or embarrassment or distress, and certainly not out of any desire for them to accept him, which just seems to offend them even more. But Evans is simply… indifferent to it all.

 Most importantly, as much as Theo has been able to conclude, Evans isn't prone to violence. He always seems calm and easygoing when he's with the Golden Trio, and quiet the rest of the time. And from the very beginning, he's never done anything to harm any fellow Slytherins, not even Malfoy. Even his wards seem to have some kind of function worked into them that would rate the level of threat first and only respond with the same degree of damage.

Actually, not the same— if Malfoy had been caught taking another Slytherin's documents without permission, important or not, it wouldn't be too much even if they cursed his hands in return. They probably wouldn't, because it's Malfoy, and people are used to being more lenient with him, but normally, even Malfoy wouldn't do something that gauche anyway. No matter how much they've spoiled him, his parents have at least taught him pureblood etiquette. He's never even tried to rifle through Theo's belongings.

 Admittedly, Theo had committed a slight faux pas as well when his curiosity had prompted him to read those Ministry forms, even if they were laid out on Evans' desk - unintentionally seeing them in passing was fine but the polite thing to do would've been to keep walking - but at least he hadn't been stupid enough to get too close, let alone put a single finger on them. Malfoy really only has his own poor impulse control to blame for going too far yet again, and Theo has every right to judge him for it.

 Although since it was Evans, Malfoy had probably categorized him as someone who doesn't deserve a pureblood's courtesy.

Even then though, Evans hadn't retaliated with anything more than the ward equivalent of a watered down Knockback Jinx, which is basically a common prank amongst rowdier students. Malfoy's pride had - once again - been hurt, but nothing else, even when it would've been Evans' right. And he hadn't gotten angry this time either.

Of course, Theo isn't foolish enough to think Evans isn't capable of violence when he wants to be. If he's pushed far enough, Theo is certain that the other boy could and would inflict some significant damage that would at least end with a visit to the Hospital Wing. Perhaps it was his magic, the relentless weight of it that said it wouldn't hesitate to crush them if they proved themselves a real threat. Or perhaps it was Evans himself, who looks at Malfoy after each stunt like he's putting up with a recalcitrant child that he has to go easy on because said child is too young to know better, except the detachment in his gaze also says that he's weighing Malfoy's age on a scale and waiting for the day his youth will no longer be able to compensate for his actions.

Frankly, Theo hopes that day will come soon. But that's his pettiness talking, and Malfoy in general is none of his concern. What Theo really wants is to learn all those things for himself. Well, not all, he's more than self-aware enough to know he's nowhere near as powerful as Evans, but some of those things - the spellwork, the runes - surely those things can be taught to others even if they don't have incredible amounts of magic? Even if it's slow-going and difficult, Theo isn't afraid to work for it.

So long as he learns even just a little of what Evans knows - and he clearly knows so much, knows the things that can actually be useful in real life - then perhaps, one day, maybe even before he graduates Hogwarts… escaping his father won't be a fool's hope anymore. And if there's a chance that he can do that, then no matter how exorbitant the price Evans names, Theo would be willing to pay it, even if it takes him the rest of his life to honour the debt.

But nothing's going to happen if they're not even on speaking terms. It's been three weeks. Already three weeks. Only three weeks. Maybe it really is still too soon, but at the very least, Theo doesn't think Evans will do anything worse than say no.

 At his back, he can feel Blaise's eyes on him, but he doesn't turn around.

 "Is that-" His voice doesn't crack, thankfully, but it comes out croakier than normal, giving away his nervousness. He bites back the urge to hex himself and tries again. "Is that taught by the time we graduate?"

 Evans… doesn't react, doesn't even look up. For several tense and increasingly awkward seconds, Theo thinks maybe the other boy will just continue ignoring him, or maybe he even thinks Theo is speaking to one of the others, not him.

 But then he writes something down and flips a page of his book, and then he raises his head and shifts away from his desk to face Theo.

 It's a little daunting, to suddenly have that piercing bright green regard aimed straight at him, but there's also no hostility that Theo can see, and that settles some of his nerves.

 Evans looks at him, then frowns, then asks in return, blunt, but amazingly, willingly enough, "You mean the wards?"

 Theo nods carefully, making sure he doesn't look too eager or too demanding. Masters of their trades are always rightfully reticent about their knowledge and skills to anyone who isn't their own mentor or apprentice, unless they're a teacher. Evans may not be a master signed and sealed and authorized to practice, but nobody who can write the exams at fourteen can be considered an amateur.

 Evans shrugs. "I haven't exactly flipped through the Ancient Runes syllabus of every year so I can't really say. If it continues at the same pace as third-year and fourth-year though, then probably not. You'd maybe get to the point of basic wards, but not much more than that. Compound wards like these-" He raps his knuckles against his own desk. "-put crudely, requires the use of runic coils to weave together multiple basic arrays, on multiple levels, in varying sequential order depending on how multifaceted you want the wards to be. It's not that difficult once you start getting some practice in, but from what I hear, you guys don't even begin practical work until after your O.W.L., which… I don't really get, but maybe Hogwarts is big on theoretical learning. But yeah, at that rate, I don't see how you could be constructing something like this by graduation."

 Theo's head is spinning. He didn't understand… anything in that summary except perhaps a general idea of "basic arrays". It's rare for him to feel so stupid.

 Evans is still watching him, and he doesn't seem impatient for their exchange to be over, or irritated that it's taking place at all. He looks like he's waiting for Theo to reply, so Theo hurries on to keep the conversation afloat.

 "So you didn't learn Runes following the Hogwarts curriculum when you were homeschooled," He surmises. "Does that mean the standards here fall short of the international schools?"

 It wouldn't be the first time. Britain's educational requirements have been growing more and more lenient for years. Correspondingly, their elective options have also been reduced to four due to budget cuts and lack of interest in anything harder than petting animals and making up death predictions. Every year, more second-years choose to sign up for Care and Divination than they do Arithmancy or Runes. It's one reason why the number of incoming students has been gradually declining and consists of more muggleborns than purebloods. Foreign schools are strict about accepting any children outside of their designated countries, but those in Great Britain and Ireland who want better for their kids and can afford the higher prices tend to prefer sending them to one international school or another instead of Hogwarts.

 But Evans shakes his head. "I wouldn't know that either. I didn't really follow any official curriculum when I was learning." He pauses a beat, like he's thinking about how much to reveal, or even why he's revealing anything, but then he seems to decide it doesn't much matter. "The person who taught me was a bit… unconventional about it. He was a very good teacher, but he wasn't actually a teacher with the degree and whatever else you need to be a Ministry-approved professor, so he didn't really care about following some checklist of what a student attending a magical school was supposed to learn. Plus he was kind of a genius at runes. Ward-cracking and disassembly in particular since that's what he majored in - he was a Curse-Breaker - but he was pretty good at almost everything else too, which meant he found the basic stuff pretty boring. So when he taught me, and he realized I didn't have any trouble getting the foundations down, and I could mostly keep up even when he skipped ahead to more advanced stuff, he basically ended up just jumping between the subjects he liked most, filled in any gaps along the way, and gave me free rein to research whatever I found interesting. And whatever topic I picked was the one he lectured on, or helped me look up if it was one of the few areas he didn't know much about."

 His expression turns wry, if only for a moment. "Apparently though, according to Babbling, that means there's nothing left for Hogwarts to teach me. But I don't know how I would compare to students in other schools."

 He finishes and falls silent. It's the most he's said since that first night, and it's clear as day that whoever this Curse-Breaker tutor was, Evans respects him a great deal, great enough to ramble on about him to a roomful of near-strangers, and considering what he'd had a hand in molding Evans into, he deserves every bit of that respect too.

 Theo envies it. He is oft a creature of envy, and it hollows him out a little more every time it rears its head, but he's resigned to it. He wonders why Hogwarts can't have a teacher like Evans' instead of the whimsical mess that is Babbling, who can never get through a single class without her train of thought wandering away like an untrained dog off its leash.

 "Then," Theo continues, carefully neutral, carefully watching for any signs of displeasure on Evans' face. "Once you pass your exams, will you simply have an extra study period slot? Or will you be required to attend another elective?"

 Evans blinks at him. "The first, I think. I might see if it's possible to take an owl-distance university course or something, but spare time in my day isn't bad either."

 "Then," Theo forges on, watching as Evans's mouth twists a little, like he knows that this is what Theo has been aiming for from the beginning. Theo can't tell if he disapproves though - he doesn't think so - and it's too late to divert his course anyway. "What do you think about tutoring?"

 Evans cocks an eyebrow. He doesn't say anything for several anxiety-inducing seconds, just scrutinizing Theo with a face blank enough to rival Snape's when he bothers to stop sneering. The quill in Evans' hand taps-taps-taps against his desk before the boy swings around in his chair completely to face Theo.

 "Tutoring," He repeats. "You want me to tutor you in Ancient Runes?"

 And at least he doesn't sound derisive, nor does he put any particular emphasis on any part of that question. It does make it harder for Theo to gauge how he should respond though.

 "Yes," He confirms, because straightforward seems to be what Evans prefers. He thinks, briefly, of including Blaise, but he doesn't actually know if Blaise would like tutoring as well, and even if he does, Blaise can ask for himself. Theo isn't that charitable, and Blaise might even take offense if he tries to be.

 "I can compensate you for your time," He adds, because he's poor by pureblood standards, but not so poor that he can't afford decent education, especially with the nest egg he's been secretly building on the side since he turned eight and realized his inheritance was only going to get smaller at the rate his father was drawing from it for his… extracurriculars. His seven years at Hogwarts at least have already been paid for, robes and supplies and even some pocket money included, because even Silas Nott isn't going to let his son go into public at even more of a disadvantage than he already is. So as long as Evans doesn't ask for a huge sum of money, or even if he does, and he's willing to take part of that payment in favours, then Theo should have enough from his own funds to cover the cost.

 Evans leans back in his seat and doesn't say anything about payment. Instead, he looks almost puzzled as he asks, "Why do you need tutoring though? Even if you want to learn stuff like this," He motions at his desk. "I wouldn't be able to even start teaching you how until you got at least the basics down, and that's what Hogwarts teaches, so is there any point in getting more of the same lessons from me?"

 For a moment, even Theo can't come up with a way to say 'yes, because Babbling can't teach worth a damn, and I don't actually know how I passed last year but I definitely won't this year with the way her lectures keep getting lost somewhere between class and Atlantis every bloody week' but in more polite terms, if only because Evans might not appreciate anyone badmouthing her since she's obviously the one vouching for Evans' qualifications in order to let him take his exams so early.

 Fortunately, Blaise has no such compunctions.

 "Have you seen the way Babbling teaches?" The other boy enquires in his usual lackadaisical tone, just aggrieved enough to sound invested, but mild enough to leech the provocation out of it. It also gives Blaise a foot in through the door, drawing Evans' attention to him without making it seem as if he's interrupting.

 Theo glances behind him at where Blaise is now lounging in his own desk chair, emptying his bag of textbooks and papers even as he glances over to meet Evans' gaze, and his expression has eased into an invitation to commiserate over Babbling's questionable teaching methods. All of it is designed to look casual and cordial, to keep this fragile first exchange lighthearted, if also full of a resigned sort of exasperation, funnelled together in order to lower Evans' guard.

 And it seems to work too, like it does with everyone Blaise turns his charms on. At the very least, the way Evans' mouth quirks in response looks reflexive enough to be genuine.

 "That's fair," Evans concedes, a wry sort of humour suffusing his voice. "She's not the best at… staying on topic."

 Theo has to suppress a snort, but something of it must show on his face anyway because Evans' eyes snap back to him, and a moment later, a quicksilver grin flits across the other's face, bright in a way that lights up his whole face, and perhaps Blaise will have to try harder after all because Theo realizes that this is what genuine looks like on Evans.

 "Okay, I get why you might want a tutor," Evans acknowledges. "But isn't there anyone better for that?"

 Theo blinks at him. "Better than someone who's ready to take his exams in a month?"

 Evans' eyebrows go up briefly, and something in his eyes sharpens. "No. Better than someone who's a halfblood orphan in Slytherin, stuck in a one-sided grudge-match with a pureblood brat who has all the maturity of a toddler and isn't going to be very happy if his friend starts hanging around the guy he wants to curse into the Hospital Wing."

 Orphan? is Theo's first thought, followed by, I wish Malfoy was around to hear that. But all of it is superseded by a defiance that bursts out of him before he can curb it, "We're not friends."

 Evans waves a hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Slytherins don't have friends. What I mean is-"

 "No," Theo says, wincing internally at how he'd cut Evans off mid-sentence. "I mean, we aren't friends. Normally, we aren't even civil acquaintances most days."

 Evans eyes him for a long moment like he can hear all the things Theo isn't saying. Theo's pretty sure Evans doesn't know about his family's circumstances - How would he? Why would he even care to look it up? - but he seems to be able to glean at least the gist of it in a single glance because he seems to accept it easily enough, and the next thing he says is, "Alright, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still not going to be happy about it."

 "Good," Theo says, once again before he can stop himself, and with more relish than he should convey. Even if he's often thought that anything that made Malfoy unhappy was a good thing, he's certainly never expressed it out loud. He doesn't know what's come over him, only that there's something about the way Evans is watching him, patient and without judgement, that makes him… bolder than he normally would be.

 And since he's already opened his mouth, he might as well keep going.

 "So long as you're willing, I don't mind what other people might say," Theo says as firmly as he knows how to be. "I need to raise my grades for Ancient Runes before I take my OWLs next year or I'm never going to pass. I would appreciate any tutoring you can spare the time for." He hesitates, but only for a beat. "If you want, in addition to monetary compensation, I can also snub Malfoy at dinner somehow. And you would know it wouldn't just be some show we put on either. Malfoy doesn't have it in him to be humiliated in public, even as a stunt."

 It's far more outspoken and far more audacious than Theo is accustomed to being, and he can feel Blaise's eyes on him again. But he gets the impression that if he doesn't put his cards on the table - that he really does want to learn from Evans, that it's his main motivation, even if it isn't the only one - then Evans might think Theo is playing some kind of trick on him, possibly on Malfoy's orders, and that's the last thing Theo wants him to believe.

 Besides, this is also an opportunity. Theo had been resigned to living under Malfoy's temperamental rule for the duration of his Hogwarts career. It wasn't as if he wouldn't be doing more of the same as an adult, after all. Considering the difference in their social status, Theo would still have to bow his head, and jump when told to jump, and remain courteously - or at least forbearingly - deferential in front of Malfoy whenever they see each other. At least this more childish version at school is giving him plenty of practice for the future.

 But now, there is Hadrian Evans, whose existence no one had expected and no one thus far can control, who isn't afraid of Malfoy, whom Malfoy is afraid of instead, and Theo honestly can't see that changing. Of course, the real world is very different from some squabbles between teenagers, and Theo has only known Evans for less than a month. But… call it instinct. Even if one day the Malfoy family can really make it so that Evans can no longer live well in Britain, Theo gets the sense that the other boy would rather up and move to a different country than ever submit to anyone.

 People with inborn power like Evans won't bow. They don't know how to.

 And if Theo can get even a fraction of that protection that openly siding with Evans might earn him, then the choice is obvious. He's long known that he isn't powerful enough or ambitious enough or even brave enough to stand on his own. That in order to thrive, or even to simply live a satisfactory life, it would be best to choose someone's shadow to settle in. Preferably, that someone would be willing enough to leave Theo alone most of the time and wouldn't ask too much of him, but he already knows he wouldn't be able to get that from his father or Malfoy.

 Then, there's no point clinging to either of them. Before, there had been no other choices, and between his father and Malfoy, Malfoy was the better bet, though it wasn't as if the blond ponce could've gotten him out from under Silas Nott's thumb either. But at least being - loosely - affiliated with Malfoy would, in the future, offer Theo some protection from his father's obsessive tendencies. It wouldn't do for one of Malfoy's circle of acquaintances to disappear under mysterious circumstances after all.

 Now there's a new player on the field. Of course, Evans probably doesn't see himself as one, and wouldn't care even if he knew. But that doesn't change the fact that his shadow casts a long and looming line, and somehow, it feels more like a refuge than anyone else's Theo has ever come across. Evans might not be willing to protect him, if only because he would have to make himself known to do so, and if there's one thing Evans has shown over the past few weeks, it's that he much prefers staying in the background. But even if he isn't willing to protect Theo, at the very least, he can teach Theo how to protect himself. So, Theo might as well take his chances with Evans, and the first step in doing that is to make it very clear to all and sundry that he's throwing his lot in with the halfblood Slytherin transfer.

 He hadn't quite been prepared to go this far when he'd first decided to speak to Evans today, but doing things by half measures doesn't bode well for him either. Prevaricating or at least being vaguer about his intentions might leave him an extra hand to play, a way to retreat in case associating with Evans becomes too dangerous one day, but no one likes a fence-sitter.

 In Slytherin, every decision is a power play, whether it seems like it or not. An insignificant word or action might result in large consequences that aren't always obvious until the waves and ripples have settled. And Theo's never been much of a gambler, preferring safety over potential riches. But the things he can learn from Evans are too tempting to pass over. Put in plain terms, he's technically using Evans as a means to an end, which no one in Slytherin wouldn't approve of, but for a good chunk of this House, Evans' blood would definitely outweigh any usefulness he might have, especially since he hasn't publicly proven himself in any way at all. And the way he spends all his free time with Gryffindors hardly helps.

 Still, it's a risk Theo's willing to take. And now the Quaffle is in Evans' hands, and all that's left is to wait for his answer.

 Of course, if Evans says no, then Theo can only hope Blaise is feeling magnanimous today and won't go spreading this little story around. Then again, there's Crabbe and Goyle too, and they'll definitely tell Malfoy, so it will get out either way.

 Such is Slytherin, where the only shared secret you can trust to remain a secret is when all other parties are dead.

 In front of him, Evans only raises his eyebrows for a moment before amusement quirks one corner of his mouth. "Well you don't have to go that far."

 Theo can't tell if the other boy understands the implications of publicly cutting ties with Malfoy, but he's relieved to hear it anyway. He'd do it if it's a condition Evans sets, if only to alleviate any concerns Evans might have of being played, but it's not as if he wants to do it. He would happily see Malfoy humiliated any day of the week, but Theo is at heart an introverted person. Open confrontation of any kind will always make him uncomfortable.

 Evans studies him for a while longer as if weighing his sincerity. Eventually, he says, "I'm not opposed to tutoring. Actually, I'm already doing that for Hermione every Wednesday and Saturday. Adding one more doesn't make much of a difference. It's just that I don't love tutoring so much that I want to do it more than twice a week. So," He smiles, and this time, his expression is one of a sharp sort of curiosity. "If you want me to tutor you, then you'll have to be okay with Hermione. And I don't just mean tolerating her presence enough to sit at the same table as her. I mean if you say one bad word about her blood, I'll take that as an attack on me and react accordingly. Understand?"

 Theo blinks once, twice, digesting that ultimatum with something like disbelief because- "Is that all?" And then, because it couldn't possibly be that easy, he hastily tacks on, "How much would you like to be paid?"

 Evans blinks back at him, looking like he's re-evaluating Theo on the spot. Then he makes a dismissive gesture and says, "I'm not short on money. Also I don't make Hermione pay so it wouldn't be fair if I made you pay." He sits back with a finality that starts bringing an end to their conversation. "Wednesdays and Saturdays, 4-6pm in the library. I know we share all the same classes so that shouldn't be a problem for you. Showing up isn't mandatory, you can just come whenever you want, and I'll tutor you in whatever you need help with. My only condition is that you treat Hermione with basic respect. Of course," His mouth twists into a strange smile. "That goes for her too. And her friends if they happen to stop by."

 Theo has to suppress a grimace at that, but it's mostly out of reflexive distaste. Even if Weasley starts flinging insults, he's sure he's heard worse than anything a Gryffindor could come up with, and his tolerance is high, so it doesn't much matter whether Evans can prevent it or not. Actually, it's already pretty novel that he would try at all. This is by far the easiest and weirdest deal Theo has ever been offered, which only makes him that much more suspicious, but Evans also adds no other terms, so Theo is forced to conclude that this really is all Evans wants from him.

 The sheer unfairness of what each party is bringing to the table is jarring. Does Evans not understand what's happening here or is he seriously willing to offer up his time and knowledge on a silver platter at basically no cost?

 Part of Theo wants to ask again, to make sure Evans really doesn't want anything else, but since they've come to this point, even if Evans were to ask for something in the future, Theo would have no obligation to give it. It's admittedly somewhat uncomfortable, to receive so much in exchange for giving back so little when he wasn't even the one manipulating Evans towards this outcome, but at the same time, wouldn't he just be stupid if he keeps pushing the issue? Complaining about not having to spend any money or owe any favours seems rather counterproductive, and even though Theo is willing to pay for a chance like this, that doesn't mean he wants to if he doesn't have to. Of course, he supposes it isn't very honourable of him to not at least insist on some form of compensation, but that's why Theo isn't a Gryffindor.

 So then.

 "Very well, I agree to your terms," Theo says, letting himself relax a bit more when Evans' expression doesn't change. And because even a Slytherin should acknowledge genuine goodwill, he shoves past his own discomfort and manages, if a bit stiffly, "Thank you, Evans."

 Evans makes a face that's something left of embarrassed. "It's just tutoring, you don't have to be so formal. Besides, you're still the one who's going to have to put up with Malfoy pitching a fit once he finds out."

 Theo almost shrugs. That's not anything new. He might have to field some curses hurled his way once other Slytherins realize he's no longer under Malfoy's "protection" and is seen spending time with a halfblood, but it's not as if he has no way of protecting himself from most spells that a student can get away with using in public at Hogwarts. He already has a few family wards set up around his bed too, so Malfoy can't get to him while he's asleep, and the only time he spends in the Common Room is when he's crossing it to leave the Dungeon or return to his dorm, so his Housemates aren't likely to be able to corner him there either. So long as he's careful, he'll be fine.

 Blaise's voice cuts into his thoughts, speaking this time with the lightest touch of concern seeping out from behind a thin veil of indifference that would've fooled even Theo if Theo didn't know the way Blaise can change his approach like he's changing clothes depending on his assessment of the person he's talking to. "You sure you don't need to ask Granger first before letting a Slytherin join your tutoring sessions? She might not be too happy to have Theo there. And her friends definitely won't."

 Evans' attention shifts again, and as with Theo, his gaze is neither friendly nor hostile, but it's different all the same in a way Theo can't quite name. "Is that my problem?"

 The room is quiet for a beat.

 Evans smiles, careless, casual. "I'm the one doing the teaching. Who I teach should be up to me, shouldn't it?"

 Blaise stares, unblinking, hands finally gone still. "Aren't those Gryffindors your friends though?"

 "Sure," Evans agrees. "Still doesn't mean they get to tell me what to do just because they're biased against Slytherins." He shakes his head. "I doubt it'll be much of a problem though. Like you said, they're my friends, and aren't I a Slytherin too?"

 Nobody says what Theo is certain they're all thinking— that in many ways, Evans isn't anything like your average Slytherin.

 (And in others, Evans is the very epitome of one, but the Golden Trio probably doesn't know that, do they?)

 "Are you saying other Slytherins are welcome in your tutoring sessions then?" Blaise says next, and it's the most straightforward Theo has ever seen him, skipping at least three prevarications and five backhanded compliments that Theo could've sworn Blaise would normally include just because he doesn't know any other way to speak. Apparently not.

 Except Evans' response is to huff a breath that sounds like laughter, except not in any way they've heard before, not as amicable, and Theo sees Blaise's smile grow a little fixed.

 If they were in the business of distributing vices, then excessive hubris would undoubtedly go to Malfoy, but only because Blaise doesn't have the same reckless self-defeating habit of flaunting what he has everywhere and retaliating like a rabid lapdog the moment he feels slighted, the latter of which is helped along by the fact that he doesn't hold many people in high enough esteem for them to offend him. After all, you wouldn't get mad if a ghost or a goblin or even a house-elf - as unlikely as that is - is rude to you, would you? At most, you'd punish the latter and move along with your day. And for those who do register enough as people in Blaise's eyes, well, Blaise far prefers retaliating when the other party least expects it.

 It's the same now, in the way Blaise blinks twice rapidly but doesn't otherwise react. Of course, since this is Evans, he won't be able to retaliate later either, not with any kind of success, so it's doubly impressive that the other boy manages to keep his pride nailed down and tucked away.

 "You know," Evans says lazily, mirth or perhaps mockery gleaming in his eyes. "You could just ask. Take a leaf out of Theo's book; it wastes less time."

 Because even Blaise's straightforwardness needs to take a stroll or two around the block first, and apparently, Evans had caught onto that possibly since the first time Blaise had opened his mouth since this conversation began.

 Blaise's lips thin, but after a moment of no doubt weighing the pros and cons, he shrugs gracefully like it doesn't sting and asks, "Then, may I join your tutoring sessions, Evans? I would also appreciate some assistance with my Ancient Runes studies. Of course, I will abide by the terms you've set as well."

 Theo listens and wonders just how much self-control those three sentences took. Before today, he hadn't even known Blaise was capable of it, and the fact that he is, for this, actually says a lot more about his regard for Evans than Theo had realized even just a minute ago.

 At least Evans doesn't make it harder for Blaise than that.

 "Sure," The other boy acquiesces with the air of a predator sitting back on its haunches. "On your own head though."

 At this, a trace of a smirk - his real one, beatific in its cruelty, instead of his regular fit-for-public one - cuts across Blaise's face for the span of a heartbeat. "No problem."

 Evans levels another long look at him before shaking his head with another twist of a smile. "Okay then. We're all good now?" He looks from Blaise to Theo and even spares half a glance in Crabbe and Goyle's direction before nodding, satisfied. "Fantastic. Back to work for me."

 He spins back around to face his desk, reaching for his quill, and the rest of the day passes as usual, without another word traded between them, even when they all get up for dinner. Malfoy comes back shortly before that, stalking over to his section of the dorm with the mulish single-minded intensity of someone unwilling to even acknowledge Evans' existence, although that probably won't last once he finds out what Theo and Blaise have agreed to.

 Later, in private, Theo remarks to Blaise, "I didn't expect you to care so much about your Ancient Runes grades."

 Blaise slants an indecipherable look at him even as a shallow smile stretches the width of his mouth. "Who wouldn't care about their grades when someone's offering to help raise them for free?"

 It's a rhetorical question and answers approximately nothing, but Theo wasn't expecting anything of substance anyway.

 Besides, when it comes down to it, he supposes it's not so surprising that Blaise can also see which way the wind is blowing, hard enough to tell anyone with decent enough instincts that a major shift in power is imminent.

 And no one likes a fence-sitter.

 -0-0-0-

 5.

 Hadrian would like it to be known that he isn't quite sure how he's gotten to this point in his life.

 Well, that's a lie, he sort of knows, or at least he can pinpoint all the decisions that got him from Point A to Point B, but he supposes he just wasn't expecting a couple Slytherins whom he'd always assumed - even back in his original world - were just Malfoy's lackeys in school, to commit, and commit hard. They hadn't even participated in the war on either side, as far as he was aware— Nott had died relatively early on under mysterious circumstances, and Zabini had by all accounts returned to his home country. To Hadrian, they'd been little more than faces in the background that he'd never even exchanged five words with in total before coming to this world.

 But within the first week after they've asked to join his tutoring sessions, Nott and Zabini - Slytherin/Pureblood Rule Number Who-Knows-What: you can't use someone else's first name until you're invited to - make it really fucking obvious who they're… supporting? Have sided with? Because Slytherin is a nest of brewing factions and shifting alliances and political doublespeak and even a couple blood feuds, and this is precisely why Hadrian doesn't want anything to do with this House.

 Except apparently, agreeing to tutor Nott and Zabini means he's… joined the power struggle? Formed his own faction? Decided to vie for in-House supremacy and possible world domination? Who knows because Hadrian sure doesn't, and he's determined not to know, because surely if he just continues doing his own thing, it'll become clear sooner or later to all and sundry that he has no interest in fighting a bunch of schoolchildren over whatever they think he wants to fight for.

 It's just that he can't quite do that either, because not even three weeks after Nott and Zabini start joining him in the library every Wednesday and Saturday with a wary but accepting Hermione, something that translates to them moving their seats to sit with him in class and - when they can make it look natural, if still deliberate - walking with him in the hallways, the displeasure and animosity in Slytherin House reaches breaking point.

 It's not as if Hadrian hasn't already been the target of multiple hexes and curses from his own Housemates. He's a halfblood who hangs out with Gryffindors— it's to be expected. But so far, the spells have always been in the realm of reasonable, ones that might make him trip down the stairs or rip his bag or screw up his potion, and he's been able to block or avoid them all, so he'd figured it wasn't that big a deal. He'd put the fear of a Horntail in Malfoy early on because he has to live with the berk, and he doesn't much feel like returning after a long day of classes just to have to butt heads with him every single time. But he basically has no intersections with the rest of the House, so he just hasn't bothered paying attention to any of them.

 Then, perhaps rather suddenly, Nott and Zabini are there, not so much orbiting him as they do hover from afar. But they join his tutoring sessions, and they're serious about learning from him, listening earnestly and asking questions and even checking out the books he recommends they read if they have time. There are holes in even the most simple of their fundamental knowledge of Runes - Babbling, read a how-to book on teaching for Merlin's sake - so Hadrian has to more or less start from the ground up, as he had with Hermione, but both of them quickly prove themselves more than intelligent enough to keep up, and they're startling enthusiastic - by Slytherin standards - about everything he teaches them. Nott is more obvious - more ravenous - about it, but even Zabini - who likes to pretend he's only there for the novelty of it or something and therefore tends to play up a laidback sort of indifference - never fails to complete the optional exercises Hadrian writes up for them once a week.

 And outside of the tutoring sessions, it's like they've decided that being tutored by him means that he's now their new Malfoy or something. Not that Malfoy was their Malfoy before, if Hadrian had understood Nott correctly, but they'd at least acted like they were part of Malfoy's groupies. Now they've done a one-eighty, and it's not as if they follow him around all the time the way Crabbe and Goyle do with Malfoy, honestly if you don't count classroom and dorm room, they're not even around him half the time, especially Zabini, but when they are around, when they move their cauldrons next to his in Potions class despite working separately, when they go down to breakfast with him despite splitting off at the entrance, when they trail behind him back to the Slytherin Dungeon after a tutoring session, they're so damn conspicuous about it that they might as well be waving neon-bright signs above their heads.

 In contrast, they don't even sit next Malfoy during mealtimes anymore, much to the blond's increasing red-faced ire that vaguely resembles a Silenced teakettle on the brink of boiling over. But now they sit at the end of the Slytherin table, which Hadrian has gradually gathered that that's not a good thing, but he doesn't know how to fix it either, and neither Nott nor Zabini seems to mind.

 They also talk to him now, not often, not just in private, and not just about Runes, although that does still take up the majority of their conversation topics, if only because they don't know each other that well yet. But in their dorm or in class or in the library or in the halls, sometimes, Nott would say something completely normal, like whether or not he owns an owl or if he's noticed Snape's increasingly intent attention on him or if he's found the secret passageway connecting the Dungeons to the sixth floor yet because climbing six flights of moving stairs isn't what anyone would call a good time. Zabini on the other hand prefers sharing obscure gossip that even most of Slytherin isn't aware of, sordid little secrets like whose parent has a mistress (or three) on the side that will very likely cause an inheritance problem down the road, who killed a cousin over the summer due to jealousy but has done a decent enough job of covering it up as an accident because said cousin had been the heir apparent, and even who had to go to Pomfrey for an Abortion Charm just last week but will likely have to break her betrothal contract - and consequently have her magic bound, as per the terms of said contract - in the future anyway because there's no hiding the loss of her virginity from the olde family magicks no matter how frantically she searches for a way.

 To the former, Hadrian responds the way he would if Neville or Ron or Hermione were to ask him similar questions. To the latter, he says, "You have serious issues, Zabini."

 Nott never smiles, but his body language is a little less closed off and his eyes look a little less hunted with every random conversation they have. Zabini is almost always smiling, and in response to Hadrian's incredulity, he only laughs like it's the grandest joke he's ever heard.

 They grow on him, is the thing. One's probably abused at home, and the other is honestly half a psychopath already, and Hadrian shouldn't care but he's always had a bit of a soft spot for broken people, people who don't quite fit in no matter how well they fake it, people who remind him of himself. And the war he'd survived had only served to destroy what little compunctions he'd ever had about getting too close to dangerous things.

 So they grow on him, day by day, and half a month in, the other Slytherins apparently can't handle it anymore.

 Hadrian's just coming back from dinner. Nott and Zabini are with him, having joined him once he'd bid Neville, Ron, and Hermione goodnight. They're halfway across the common room when Hadrian catches movement in his peripheral, and he has half a second to decide what to do, to abort the reflex to go for his wand, to cancel the shield ward sparking at his fingertips, to pivot around on the spot and abruptly swing himself right into Nott's personal space, which means Nott immediately puts on the brakes, and - behind him - Zabini has to do the same.

 Hadrian senses more than feels the curse that grazes the back of his robes and splashes against the far wall between a pair of suspiciously empty armchairs in an area that's normally a popular hangout spot. There's no sound, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees the way it oozes a sickly viscous purple that puddles to the ground and eats straight through the carpet before finally evaporating into nothing.

 He doesn't turn his head, doesn't challenge anyone into a duel the way his hands are itching to do. Instead, even before the spell disappears, he's already asking, "Did you copy down the Potions assignment from today? I just remembered I forgot."

 In front of him, Nott's turned three shades whiter, and he's already pale-skinned to begin with, so he obviously recognizes the spell. Zabini clearly does as well if the way he's gone gargoyle-still is anything to go by.

 If they'd continued walking, that curse would've hit Nott right in the ribcage. His left ribcage.

 A beat of silence passes. Then Nott takes a breath and answers in a voice that doesn't waver but is even more inflectionless than usual. "Yes, I wrote it down. I can show you."

 "Cool, thanks, let's go."

 Nobody else speaks, nobody even moves, as Hadrian leads the way back to their dorm.

 Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle aren't back yet so they have the room to themselves. As soon as the door is shut, Nott almost slumps onto his bed, hands shaking. Zabini pulls out his chair to sit, a smile hooked at one corner of his mouth, but absolutely nothing about the rest of him says amusement.

 (Slytherins don't have friends, and Zabini doesn't seem to know how to have friends, but Nott's probably the closest to one that his disposition will ever allow.)

 Hadrian looks from Nott to Zabini and back, and then he asks, "Who was that boy? The one surrounded by that group by the fireplace."

 The one who'd fired the spell. Don't think just because a bunch of students were arranged in front of him that Hadrian had missed the way his arm had moved, the jab of a wand, the blossom of light at its tip before the curse had flown across the room. Did they think he was blind?

 Nott blinks up at him, features still pinched. It's Zabini who answers, soft as silk, "Malcolm Avery, seventh-year."

 Hadrian takes a moment to digest that, to press that face into his memory before filing it away for later. He focuses on his roommates again instead and presses on, "Has this sort of thing happened before?"

 Because even if they're spending time with him, Nott's an old pureblood name, isn't it? And Zabini is Zabini, and everybody's heard of his mother. Even if they're shunned a bit, jeered at a bit, even hexed a bit, any serious assaults should only be aimed at Hadrian, right?

 Well, apparently not. That curse earlier had been a much Darker cousin of the Bone-Vanishing Spell, a variation on the more public-friendly Bone-Breaking Curse. If Hadrian hadn't seen it coming, if he hadn't stopped Nott in time, that thing would've not only shattered the left half of Nott's ribcage but also stabbed the resulting fragments directly into the nearest organs before dissolving into the bloodstream as a lethal poison— in this case, it would've been the heart and a lung. Nott would've been dead in under a minute, drowning in his own blood in extreme pain, and it's a tossup if even Hadrian would've been able to save him.

 Zabini - unsurprisingly - shakes his head. For all that he doesn't have an old bloodline to rooted in Britain, he still has enough family clout to grant him a strong backing. And that's not counting his own means of protecting himself. Hadrian had actually gotten the feeling very early on, from the moment they'd had their first conversation, and he'd only been proven right as they'd gotten to know each other a little better— Zabini has all the best traits of a quintessential Slytherin. And thereby also all of the worst. Magic-wise, Hadrian can overpower him in a second, but that's why Zabini knows not to make an enemy of him, knows how to bend and stretch and profit while he's at it. He doesn't need anyone to protect him.

 Nott on the other hand doesn't reply right away, and when he does, it's an evasive, "Spells like that would be an instant expulsion from Hogwarts, especially coming from a Slytherin, and from a seventh-year, they'd go straight to Azkaban. There are portraits all over the school. I'm not stupid enough to wander into places where there aren't any."

 Hadrian aims a flat look at him. "That's not what I asked."

 Nott purses his lips and stares at his lap. Hadrian waits him out.

 "…They've tried cornering me," Nott finally admits, grudgingly, almost resentfully. "There's no avoiding a couple areas with no portraits. But they never used a curse this Dark before, and I've always been able to slip away."

 Hadrian swallows the first three things he wants to say, to shout, because at his core, he likes to think he has a long fuse, but when someone crosses his line in the sand, his temper has always been explosive and violent, which won't help here.

 Besides, hadn't he more or less told these two to handle the consequences of letting him tutor them on their own? Even if they weren't Slytherins and actually had the mind to reach out for help, they probably wouldn't have come to him after what he'd said, so he has no one to blame but himself and the fact that he'd underestimated just how deep some Slytherins' senseless hatred runs.

 So he breathes through his first instinct, his second, his third, and then he pushes off the desk he'd been leaning on in favour of pulling out parchment and ink and the appropriate books.

 "Alright, come here," He beckons, spreading everything out on his desk. "I'm gonna teach you a Fourfold Rebounder Ward so you can wear it on you from now on. The variation I'm thinking of has a chameleon element, so it'll be both strong enough to deflect a curse on the level of the one from earlier and also camouflage it when it's bounced back at whoever attacked you. It's based off of intent too, so it won't act up in a scuffle or a practice duel or something, the other person has to really want to harm you with deadly intent, so keep your guard up for other stuff, and honestly, this should just be for emergencies, you should still try to dodge it because it's not good to grow overly dependent on stuff like this. I'm confident the runes won't fail when I'm the one making it but your reflexes will get rusty if you get lazy. It's a bit- okay, a lot more difficult than anything you're learning right now, but I'll do most of the work, you just watch and provide the magic at the end, and once your foundation is a bit more stable and we can move ahead to more interesting things, I'll come back to this first so you'll be able to learn how to do this yourselves one day."

 A long silence follows. Hadrian looks up. Neither of his roommates has moved. "What's wrong?"

 Another few seconds tick by. It's Zabini who gets up first, an odd smile on his face, one that Hadrian's never seen before. But all he says is, "Nothing's wrong. I was just hoping if we waited a bit, Malfoy will get back in time to see what we're doing and finally keel over from high blood pressure."

 Hadrian snorts with laughter. "Get over here. If that really happened, we'd be the ones who'd have to waste time carrying him up to the Hospital Wing."

 Zabini's expression says that that wouldn't be his problem but he only smirks and saunters over to Hadrian's desk with his chair. When they both turn to look, Nott is already on his feet as well. He doesn't say anything, but he looks steadier, and he's watching Hadrian with a strange gleam in his eyes that makes them look almost feverish.

 They settle down around him, eager - by Slytherin standards - to learn in a way that reminds Hadrian exactly why he likes to teach.

 He gets to work, explaining each step even though he knows most of it is going over their heads. That's fine though; for now, these wards just need to protect them properly, and in the future, he'll teach them how to protect themselves.

 -0-

 Of course, things aren't over just like that, because Hadrian's temper is an explosive and violent beast, and the only things that's changed from when he was still a teenager is the fact that he's gotten a lot sneakier about it as an adult.

 They aren't friends. But Nott and Zabini are his roommates and his students and kids that he's starting to genuinely care about, and nobody gets to walk away scot-free after fucking with the people under Hadrian's care so long as he's still alive to do something about it.

 Malcolm Avery is seventeen anyway. That's an adult by any magical community's measure, which means Hadrian doesn't have to hold back.

 It takes a week. A week of slipping out after curfew and eavesdropping on conversations, of finding out what the seventh-year's next practical Potions class will be working on and scanning all of Avery's belongings to see what Dark spells he's been mucking about with, and finally of filching Avery's cauldron for an afternoon while he's in class and replacing it before he returns to his dorm.

 When it happens, Hadrian isn't even in school. Even if he were, it wouldn't matter because he'd made sure to time everything just right, and all the fourth-years - and most of the rest of the student body too - are already in the Great Hall waiting for lunch to be served. Seventh-year Potions is in the morning block, and Avery always goes overtime when there's a practical.

 Hadrian isn't even in school, sitting his Ancient Runes exams at the Ministry all day instead, but he certainly hears all about it when he gets back that evening.

 A few minutes before noon, a silver doe Patronus comes bounding up from the dungeons with an urgent summons for Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Nobody hears what is said, but the three staff members rush off even as the food begins to appear, and nobody hears from them again until half an hour later when whispers start going around about Healers from St. Mungo's being called and one Malcolm Avery being carried out the front doors on a stretcher because his condition is too unstable to be transported through the Floo. The professors don't really tell them anything except that there was a Potions accident, but - as these things do because the rumour mill at Hogwarts is healthier than ever, and there'd still been a few other seventh-years in class with Avery at the time - everyone more or less knows what happened anyway by the time afternoon classes start. Potions is cancelled for the rest of the day, because no one else was injured but Snape was too busy furiously documenting what had happened after running multiple diagnostic spells over the remains of Avery's cauldron to teach. Also, he has to submit said documentation and a Pensieve memory to the Aurors investigating the accident, which doesn't exactly say great things about his mood, so nobody's unhappy about being able to give Potions a miss.

 Apparently, Avery had been using his cauldron to make other potions - banned potions - in his dorm room. His roommates had been willing enough to keep mum and even give him a hand, and the book he'd been learning from had been found in his trunk. Thankfully, he hadn't managed to make anything too terrible yet, and his failed attempts hadn't managed to kill anyone, but he also hadn't cleaned his cauldron properly, and so there'd been a mess of residue potion and Dark magic clinging to the metal. Coincidentally, it had ended up reacting quite badly to the potion that the seventh-years were to work on that day, and the end result was a magnificent explosion that Snape had barely managed to protect himself and the other students from in the nick of time. There'd been no helping Avery who'd been standing right next to the unholy concoction.

 In the aftermath, the explosion had caused bad enough burns to disfigure Avery, but time and Healers would fix most if not all of that. Far more serious had been the potion damage to his body— the liquid had seeped right through his skin and disintegrated the majority of his left ribcage, and then it had gone on to chew even further, straight into his heart and left lung, an insidious venom that had dissolved into his bloodstream and sent him into convulsions that had wrung scream after agonized scream out of him until Pomfrey had deemed it safe enough to knock him out, although even then, his body wouldn't stop seizing from the pain.

 He'd still been alive when he'd been rushed out of the castle. Word has it that he's still alive now in St. Mungo's, except the Healers have no idea how to even begin treating him. Mixing multiple failed attempts at Dark potions, most of which even Avery's own roommates couldn't list all the names of or in which order he'd made them, together with one N.E.W.T.-level potion but in an explosion that had caused the maximum amount of entropy in the magic imbued into it— Merlin himself wouldn't be able to fix it with just a wave of his wand.

 By dinnertime, everybody is talking about it, and the professors have given up trying to stop them.

 (In truth, the outcome probably wouldn't have been quite so serious if Hadrian hadn't added a spell to amplify the toxicity and volatility of the residue in the cauldron, as well as several looping single-use runes to hide the volcanic buildup and also bind the whole thing to Avery alone so that it wouldn't have hurt anyone else even if Snape hadn't reacted in time. Without Hadrian's interference, it would've still exploded sooner or later, but Snape might've seen the danger signs in time to evacuate everyone from the classroom, and even if he didn't, the effects of the potion on Avery probably wouldn't have been so terrible.

 But then, that wouldn't have been enough. After all, lessons like these should stick.

 Avery will live, but he sure won't enjoy it.)

 It's almost ten by the time Hadrian gets back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Snape drops him off at the entrance before sweeping off to his own office in a dramatic billow of irritably flapping robes. He'd been at the Ministry for half the day just to piece together what had happened for them, but as Hadrian had ensured, the Potions master had been cleared of any negligence in the matter. The potion had very obviously shown no signs of exploding - three other experts had verified - and students are expected to take care of their own cauldrons from third-year onwards without the professor having to do weekly checks. Snape had been released by dinnertime, but he'd apparently decided to simply eat in the Ministry cafeteria and return with his student and Babbling, so here they are.

 Except-

 Just before Snape makes to leave, he turns and pins Hadrian with a long appraising look, clinical and penetrating. Hadrian stares back serenely, and maybe the fact that his mind is a steel trap wrapped around a battlefield would be highly suspect to anyone looking in, but he also doesn't feel so much as a brush of Legilimency from Snape whatsoever. The professor really is just looking at him.

 It's a strange new world.

 In the end, Snape doesn't say anything before walking off, and Hadrian is left to blink after him before letting himself into the common room.

 Everything goes eerily silent the moment everyone realizes he's back. Even if he hadn't said anything, someone - let's be real, it's Malfoy - had spread the news of Hadrian taking his Ancient Runes exams early, so pretty much everyone had known where he'd gone today. It was never a secret though so Hadrian hadn't cared, except when he steps into the room, it's very obvious that everybody is focused on him, and just as obvious that nobody is willing to make eye-contact with him.

 The younger students should've already retired for the night. At least everybody still in the common room, studying or playing chess or chatting with each other like any standard evening, are fifth-years and up, so most of these students had probably known - or had been told after the fact - exactly what that curse would've done to Theo Nott that day, and exactly who had been the one to attack him.

 And everybody knows what had happened to Avery today. More specifically, they know that what had happened to him today had been an almost perfect mirror of what he'd wanted to do to Nott one week ago. Nobody here believes in coincidences, and there's only so many people who would've had the motivation to orchestrate the entire accident down to the smallest detail.

 Most of them have known Nott and Zabini for at least a few years. Perhaps they're not on speaking terms, but they'd still been Housemates for a while. Something like this isn't really Nott's style, and while it is Zabini's, neither of them has the ability.

 The only real unknown is Hadrian Evans, and if they still can't put the pieces together at this point, they might as well sell their brains.

 The area by the fireplace, normally always occupied by Avery's group at this time, is empty today. Avery's at St. Mungo's, his roommates are in overnight lockup at the Ministry, and any who aren't but were part of Avery's faction are probably hiding up in their rooms. Nobody else has taken their seats, not even the students who usually do when Avery hasn't claimed it for the day.

 Hadrian walks towards the doorway leading to the boys' dormitory, and no one stops him. It feels like the entire room is holding their breaths. Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves until Hadrian is out of earshot.

 The dorm is likewise very quiet when Hadrian enters. Malfoy's bed curtains are already drawn, as are Crabbe's and Goyle's, but Zabini's are open, and he's lazing against the headboard with a book in his hands while Nott is still at his desk doing homework.

 They both look up as soon as the door swings open. Zabini stays on his bed but Nott even stands up as Hadrian shuts the door behind him. His whole frame is tense with a restless sort of energy, and he's staring at Hadrian with shining eyes. They both are, although in different ways. Zabini looks equal parts ecstatic and hungry, while Nott just looks the kind of deeply confused and deeply grateful that makes Hadrian want to set fire to someone, preferably whoever stitched this very expression into Nott's range of emotions out of the pieces they'd torn from him.

 Nobody says anything right away. Hadrian squints at them as he makes his way to his own bed, feeling vaguely perturbed, because he hadn't truly expected them to not connect what happened to Avery back to him, but he hadn't thought they would be so fixated on it either. Maybe a roundabout tactful thank-you from Nott, an offer of a favour at most. But not… this, whatever this is.

 He laments the fact that these two aren't more stupid when it comes to this sort of thing. Ron would be oblivious. Hermione would be determinedly oblivious. Neville… would actually react a bit like Nott, Ginny would react a lot like Zabini, Luna wouldn't react at all but she'd be extra cuddly for a few days, and gods, Hadrian needs saner friends.

 Not that these two are friends of course.

 He manages to get through a shower, brush his teeth, and climb into a bed before Nott is suddenly at his side, eyes still shining with something Hadrian really doesn't want to put a name to. Thankfully, he doesn't burst into any heartfelt speeches that would probably embarrass everyone within hearing range. Not so thankfully, he honest-to-fucking-Merlin bows, all archaic and meaningful in every way Hadrian has never learned and so doesn't understand, but even he can sense the weight and deference behind every word as Nott murmurs, "All of mine is yours, until the end of days. I would be honoured if you would call me Theo."

 "Jesus fucking Christ," Hadrian mutters, because sometimes wizarding swears just don't have enough oomph to encompass the never-ending circus trainwreck that is his life. He scrubs a hand over his face, peeks at Nott - at Theo - who's still halfway bent over, and of course, it's just his luck that he has no idea how to respond in the proper pureblood way.

 He would've preferred the heartfelt speech.

 "I'm a halfblood, I don't know how to respond appropriately," He says bluntly because he doesn't know what else to do. But he also flicks a Silencing Ward at Malfoy's bed, then at Crabbe's and Goyle's as well because you can never be too careful, and then he leans over and hauls Theo upright and catches his gaze and holds it, "I'll call you Theo if you call me Hadrian. One day, you'll be strong enough to take care of your enemies on your own, and you won't need anyone else to do it for you if you don't want them to, but until then, if all of you is mine, then your enemies are too, so I'll deal with them if it turns out that they still haven't learned after today. That makes us allies from now on though, which means we're equals, and that means you never, ever bow to anyone again. Not me, and not anybody else either. Understand?"

 Theo stares again, wide-eyed and lost and so terribly young, and sometimes, Hadrian wonders what it says about just how messed up the world is when broken kids can be bought so easily.

 Finally, almost dazedly, Theo gives some semblance of a nod.

 "Hadrian," He says, and something about him straightens, grows steel, settles.

 "Hadrian," He repeats and dips his head, not a bow, but respectful all the same, and his eyes are still bright with that unnamed creature, but at least he looks at Hadrian head-on. "Thank you. Goodnight."

 Hadrian sighs and figures that this is about the best he's going to get tonight. Maybe it'll dial back to normal in a few days. "Goodnight, Theo."

 Theo smiles, tiny, crooked, a little awkward. It's the first one Hadrian has ever seen from him, and that at least he can't be upset about.

 They can finally go to sleep though. Theo returns to his own bed, Zabini is still watching them both from his bed like they're his new favourite show, and Hadrian resolutely pretends he doesn't see anything else as he takes down the Silencing Wards before drawing his curtains, rolling over, and promptly making a sincere attempt at smothering himself with a pillow.

 His life.

-0-0-0-

End Notes: Ok wow so this got hella long and I didn't really get to all the stuff anon wanted whoops. Theo just… wouldn't stop thinking lmao, and also this AU has the potential to get so big so I ended up cramming in worldbuilding wherever I could. So unfortunately all you get is sort of a starting snapshot of where this is going and how Hadrian is going to turn out and a shitload of Theo's character. I kind of wanted to do him and Blaise's POV but I could only fit Theo, and I feel like getting Blaise through Theo's POV actually added to his character just as much as a personal POV would've. Anyway, those two are basically blank slates in canon so ofc I would pick them to write lolol.

[multimystica]

Card of the Day! #5

Friendly reminder to like/reblog and reccomend my work if you like it, it would help a lot and make me happy :)

Go ahead, take a deep breath, choose one of the 3 cards below then click the keep reading button for your reading.

Card 1 - IX of Cups

Abundance! You have it all! This card speaks of satisfaction and having what you want to a point you must beware of being smug or bragging about it! Take a look:

Whatever you want today, you already have it! This is a day for wishes coming true, satisfaction and gratitude.

In the positive aspect, it's very likely that good things and achievements happen to you today, just enjoy it, be happy and thankful! On the very least, if it's something good but not something wonderful, just enjoy the inner happiness that has come with it, value the little things as well. ✨

The negative aspects of this card are related to being smug or bragging about the things you've got, so that's my warning for you today, just don't do that. I get it that your wishes came true and you achieved things and it's something you feel like it's good to share your happiness with those around you, but keep in mind it may come across them as bragging or it may make them feel bad for what they lack currently, so be mindful of that when attempting to share your happiness with others.

On the other hand, if you come across a smug/braggart today just make sure to understand they're happy with what they got and try not to take it personally (the time will come for you too when you achieve the same success, be patient). Unless it's in fact a personal attack, in which case you may as well just tell 'em to fuck off, why'd you want to keep someone like that around ya anyways?

Card 2 - IV of cups

Boredom, apathy, contemplation... Not the greatest day but not the worst, eh? This card illustrates that so well:

Had to picture that one with my phone cause the ones available on the internet were just not being fair to the colors on the card at all.

On the positive aspect of this card, it's a day to contemplate the opportunities you currently have, to meditate about things, ask questions to yourself on wether to take or leave said opportunities before making a final decision. It's also a good day to wonder wether you're being distant to people and if so what motivates that.

On the negative aspect of it, we have boredom, apathy, general lack of interest and great opportunities being missed just because you're feeling kinda low... If you feel low and think you have no opportunities available to you today take a second look because they're certainly there.

If you've been unmotivated with life, take a time out, breathe, consider why is that and make sure to give chance to life's opportunities available to you even if you're not much in the mood, you may be positively surprised by the outcomes.

Card 3 - Knight of Pentacles

Commitment, loyalty, attention to detail. Usually this card represents a very good friend, let's get more into that

As a person, this is a loyal, dedicated, reliable friend, he helps his friends, is cautious and slow moving, and sometimes completely halts progress due to it. He tends to be extra careful about everything he does and get caught up in the details. His progress is sturdy and long lasting though. He gives well-thought out and practical advice. He values rules and principles above all else. Comfort, security and luxury are highly valued by him. He learns from past experiences and academic studies and uses them in very practical ways.

The advice here is to think of his qualities as a person and wonder, do you lack said qualities? If not, are you having these in excess? If you need help or advice from a friend today, look for a friend with his qualities.

Unrelated topic:

If you need more info on readings please feel free to message. If you can share and recommend my services, that'd be much appreciated. I'm struggling financially at the moment so any paying customers would be highly appreciated. I'm willing to give discounts and throw in extra bonus readings to any paying customers at the time.

[orca-iguana]

Maybe this isn't the place to talk about it but I kinda just want to talk activism real quick. A some of you who follow me know I do most of my activism in real life I don't do as much of it online. That might be a flaw of mine and I am attempting it to figure out how to do activism in a way that can get a further reach online and that can incorporate more perspectives rather than just local ones especially considering I'm in a majority white American city. This being said there's not really a place to do activism properly online I feel like. Social media such as Tumblr or even Twitter are great places for mutual aid but they're not really good places to do actual activation I feel. The two main issues with any social media platform are 1) that they fail to be properly moderated in a way that can allow for coherent and real discussion, letting bad actors get away with far too much, and 2) a problem faced by any clear website is the fact that there's a lack of security especially when it comes to discussing extra legal solutions to problems.

With this being said the obvious solution feels like to take up to an onion and create a forum a potentially public for for leftist discussion. I do technically have the ability to do this but I don't have any skill and networking nor in defensive cyber security, so I don't really feel comfortable doing that and I've looked around and I don't think anything like this really exists. I have a job and in relatively comfortable financially all things considered so I theoretically could hire a cybersecurity specialist in order to protect the server but I don't particularly know how to do that and I don't know how comfortable I feel bringing money into what's supposed to be a public-free platform for discussion. I know a lot of cybersecurity people personally but they're all whiteheaded personally I don't know how much I trust a white hat to develop a site like this. Maybe there's another solution that I'm just an idiot and can't see but the whole point of this would be to be a more open dialogue so if any of y'all have any ideas on the matter whether it be from a cybersecurity perspective or a networking perspective or just an activism perspective please let me know.

[teardew]

-

im thinking about making a patreon because i .. uh .. i cant justify drawing for myself anymore and its killing me lmao

it takes me really long to draw so any time i hav should be spent on comms... iv been trying to fight off burnout by drawing things i like inbetween commissions like that sv anatomy practice and vampire/werewolf mngling was just for me but it still ended up setting me behind schedule because i had to rest my eyes and wrist afterward. but not only that i also wanna like. make a lot more things ...

like i wanna do animal, insect, architectural, jewelry studies and fashion and character design explorations and try designing icon packs and branch out trying embroidery with mixed media and clothes making and get into making like 3d things with clay and soft sculptures. i wanna make historical fashion coloring books with việt phục and fashion zines ...

also theres a lot of stuff i dont post bc im not sure if anyone would be interested in all the design concepts and notes i had for example the homestuck dreamer outfits or the various sha hualing designs and sketches i had before getting to the thing i posted? like i hav a bunch of different sqh outfit and hair designs but theyr more clothing based and not detailed character/face art ...

idk !! it sounds like an excuse. its like, who cares just post it ! i know i shouldnt value my art by the amount of numbers i get from posting on social media and i dont mostly but its kinda unavoidable ? to me ? i know i only post fanart and ppl follow me for that and its not a bad thing ! being realistic i just dont think anybody but me would be interested in it ??

i dont know. god. i dont know what this post is about. ''i dont think anybody would be interested in the things i really wanna make'' but im thinking about making a patreon for things i really wanna make anyway because thats the only way i can justify it is if i can profit off it in some way. i dont really want to, but with my financial circumstances i dont know. i never wanted to make my livelihood off my art. i dont even consider or call myself an ''artist'' really, i just want to MAKE art

i dont know why i still cant find a steady job after 5 months applying to everything and its making me miserable. its embarassing, they say to be persistent with jobs but calling and even walking in to check on applications and watching employers awkwardly try to turn me away without just flat out telling me no even though none of them hire me is an exercise in public humiliation. how bad do you want a job? bad enough to make a fool of myself with nothing to show for it. and i want to make art for myself to cope but it takes too much time and time is money

maybe this post is about my art anxiety under capitalism. i dont know

i think im safe enough now to admit my friends gofundme i was posting about months ago about helping their friend escape their abusive household was actually my gofundme because i was worried about them finding out and preventing me from leaving or internet stalking me afterwards. i did hav a scare when i got a phone call i thought was from my brother but ended up being a police officer, whos my mother's friend ...

but anyways. me admitting this is just to give context that. i ran hundreds of miles away from financial security and everything i ever knew and im still struggling to find steady income nearly half a year later. i just dont understand what im doing wrong. is it my name? is it because im not from here? iv been working continuously ever since i could legally my resume isnt BAD. am i just stupid? should i have just tried to make peace with my lot in life?

i thought getting away from my family would let me be in a better place to create more art, thats one of the things i was so excited about but this feels just as stressful as when i was the only earner supporting my family during covid. i just want a stable job so i can make art. i dont want making art to be my Job. i dont want to be a ''starving artist'' begging for people to care about my art i just want to make art. but fuck i dont know how to sustain any of this

sorry for this mess. insurance is different out here and i havnt been able to find a psych either so its not like i can talk about this in therapy instead of venting on my art blog. all my life i wanted to make things without the fear of it all being destroyed. the main reason i havnt branched out from illustrations is because its entirety can be saved digitally even if its physically ruined. my sketchbooks were thrown away or ripped apart by my family either from carelessness or anger to hurt me but now that im finally enough safe to have them again or make something i can hold in my hands without the fear that someone will come in break it and make me clean up its corpse i cant afford it

i dont know what to do. is it worth it? is making art worth it? i mean. its worth the rent this month. and i still love drawing god this is probably bad for business because i dont want people to feel bad for commissioning me or anything but not to be dramatic why does it feel like im fucking dying

[carrickbender]

7

1. I'm sitting here drinking coffee, but I should be doing chores. It's a nice day, bug wants to do stuff later, there's email to catch up on... so yeah, do weeks really end?

2. Friday night was fantastic: got off work, listened to my mothers epic complaining while I took the flat tire off of her old suv, lost my phone, took it to town to be fixed only to find my phone on the bumper(IT WENT 10 MILES ON THE BUMPER AT 65+ MPH TO TOWN!!!!! PRAISE ALL THE GODS IT STAYED!!!!), got the tire fixed and back on the car in a very bad spot, went home, buggy got sick and I had to clean up his #2 mess<poor guy>, and I slept on the couch because sleeping is awful in a bed anymore. Great start, huh?

3. My current shame storm is making a hurricane look like a passing shower. No matter what I do, what I accomplish, how hard I try, it's just not enough. It's a stupid thing, and no matter how much I try to do the affirmations, they aren't working. #backtosquareone

4. I have a drs appointment tomorrow, and I'm dreading it. I've gained 5 lbs(or so my messed up scale says), but my pants fit better, so I dunno. Plus, there's the pain in other places thanks to fluid build up. Just another fun thing that's happened since I had bypass surgery. #insulttoinjury

5. I think after a certain age you should be able to trade certain things that still work on your body for things that would be more useful. For example, I'd gladly trade my still working sex drive for the ability to thrive on 3-4 hours a night of sleep. That way I could trade one useless thing for a useful thing. Pardon me for being slightly bitter. Im just over it. To be honest I wish I was working the 60-70 hour a week schedule and going to school like I was before. At least then I wouldn't think about it as much. #thanksihateit

6. My former employer is having a big meeting w/investors and politicians on the 25th, and theres rumours it might start back up. So im sending the HR manager my updated resume, and starting the conversation about a shift supervisor position. To be honest, I'd kill for it, and it would keep me on career trajectory. Fingers crossed.... I love my new job but I can't afford to work there.

7. I'm sorry to be such a negative person but I'm kinda reaching a hard spot in my journey. I have no real time to stop and process because if I did I think it would derail part of the rebuilding process for my life I started a few years ago. Part of that rebuilding process was prioritizing financial security, so even considering all the other stuff has to take a backseat... but how to do it when you're a novice at self care and are trying to reprogram your already f'ed up brain is another thing entirely. Bono wrote it best in the song Cedars of Lebanon: "The worst of us are a long drawn out confession; The best of us are geniuses of compression.You say you're not going to leave the truth alone.I'm here 'cause I don't want to go home".

Thanks for letting me vent. This week will be better... I think. Much love!

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Alright, let's break down the options in order of likelihood:

Option A: Rei steals the sweaters. This one's first because I agree with you, op, if Akai tried to steal Rei's clothes there'd be hell to pay. That does leave the question why Akai even has a cream sweater like that, considering it does not fit into his colour palette. I propose this could be a sweater Mary sent her idiot son so he wouldn't freeze before he was done with his mission. He doesn't usually wear it, but for stakeouts in the cold you could sometimes see a bit of cream poking through these days (you can bet he didn't wear it as Rye because he had a cool guy persona to maintain). Rei stealing it is kinda accidental - it's early, he's slept maybe two hours if he's lucky, and yeah, sure, he can't remember the comfy cream thing in his hands but it surely isn't Akai's. Maybe Kazami brought him more clothes. Is this a stealthy ploy by Akai to make sure he stays warm? Who knows. (Even when he's not wearing it anymore, the warmth lingers. Maybe he's caught the flu.) He's not giving that sweater back btw.

Option B: Akai steals them. This solves the colour palette issue, because Amuro Tooru definitely owns cream sweaters. Bourbon probably owns way-too-expensive cashmere sweaters (and for completion's sake, Furuya Rei probably owns white functional wear). In this scenario, either Akai's stealing them as sort of a challenge ("you have no right to call the Kudos out for their terrible security, I nabbed this one from your place. Your dog even licked my face."), and a sort of survival training (because if you can survive an angry Rei, you can probably also like. Deal with a couple of rabid dogs or bears or something like that). Alternatively, Akai was out as Okiya Subaru, somehow got wrapped up in saving Rei's cover, as he does, and ended up getting blood all over his nice jacket (don't worry, it's not his own). This leaves Rei with the societal obligation to have the thing dry-cleaned (at a PSB facility, because he's not explaining the stains to the nice old lady two blocks down). Also there's an obligation to make sure the stupid FBI agent doesn't freeze to death while he's still useful ("You brought a gun, but no change of clothes?? Idiot."). So he gives Akai-as-Okiya his spare sweater, a fluffy white affair that shouldn't look good on Akai, but kinda does for Okiya (Rei can't quite discard the possibility this was all a ploy on Akai's part to get his clothes). Anyways, he makes a point to arrange for a hostage clothing exchange, makes Akai swear he'll bring it back dry-cleaned as well. (If he lies awake, wondering how Akai would look stained in white, wearing his sensible clothing, that's because he finds it hard to fall asleep at all, these days.) Akai returns the sweater clean, but smelling faintly of smoke. Rei almost rips his head off (but starts wearing that sweater more often).

Surprise! There's an option C: there's two sweaters. This comes in a variety of flavours, though in all honesty, Kazami is the most likely culprit. You see, Furuya has sent him shopping again (Bourbon needs more variety in his clothing, if he wears the same thing twice Vermouth will make concerned comments about his financial state - you don't want Vermouth "concerned"). So he's gone and there's this really nice cream sweater. It's warm and soft like Furuya and white is really his boss' colour. And hey, they also have it in his own size, too! They can be matching! So he grabs both of them, and sure, it's a little expensive, but nothing's too expensive where Furuya is concerned. Smash-cut to Kazami presenting his newest haul. As is usual, some clothes are discarded (nope, he still doesn't like the scarlet dress shirt, even though it would go great with his cream blazer), but most he keeps. Kazami takes it as the improvement it is. There's a strange glint in Furuya's eyes as he notices the two sweaters, and with a comment about the thoughtfulness, he requisitions both of them. There goes Kazami's sweater :(

(Years later, he sees Akai at some sort of function to celebrate the takedown of the BO, wearing that same sweater, and he gets it.)

Alternatives to option C include: Akai bought the same sweater to mess with Rei. Kazami buys two sweaters because he's a good agent and he can see they're stealing each other's clothes. Camel gifts one to Rei to thank him for his help, and because there's a buy-one-get-one-free kinda deal he gives the other to Akai (he would've liked to give one to Jodie instead but they didn't have her size).

Option D: Coincidence?

ever since i saw this post asking if akam was wearing the same sweater, it got me thinking. who will be the one stealing the clothes and who keeps finding their clothes stolen?

[uhyeahmaybenoidk]

Welcome to part 1 of ‘I’ve connected the two dots’ the Gilded Age edition. Basically, I decided to make this sort of post after each episode because I want to ramble about this show but I don’t know anyone who watches it too so I share my thoughts here instead. Fair notice to everyone: I most certainly suck at making predictions, I fully aware of it, later on I’ll be laughing at my own dumbness and you all are free to laugh at me too. Considering that I’m about to make some sort of conclusions after just one episode when we know next to nothing about the plot, it’s bound to end bad. That never stopped me though so let’s go.

I’m not sure whether I like Marian Brook as protagonist so far to be honest. She’s nice but a little bit bland. I got this feeling based on that scene with Agnes and Oscar that she’s supposed to have the wow factor but… nah? I just don’t see this sort of charisma in her. 

However, I absolutely adore Larry Russell. He’s this golden retriever kind of character. I just want to hug him and hurt everyone who hurts him. I’m curious how he’ll manage to work with his father because he doesn’t have this ruthlessness in him to conduct the business in the same way. I expect some sort of existenatial crisis to happen when Larry gets more familiar with the world outside of ‘greenhouse’ he was raised in.

Love triangle is coming, right? Or maybe even love square so to speak.

Marian and Larry make almost too much sense for me. IMO they would be ideal end game. It’s not important that she is technically poor because his family is so damn rich that money are not an issue for them. If they end up together, her family would have to accept his family into society. It would be sort of win-win situation. She gets financial security, he gets status. Also, both of them seem to be too naïve for their own good. They think they know life but they don’t know shit. So I expect it to be used against them and cause all sort of drama.

I slightly dislike Tom Raikes. Please don’t @ me. I have no objective reason. It’s just a gut feeling that he will cause the drama mentioned above.

Another source of drama can and will be Bertha Russell. Maaaan, that promise to make everyone who rejects her regret it one day will cause lots of tears. And I fear that it’s the innocent ones who will be crying the most.

Speaking of innocent. Gladys Russell must be protected at all cost and I have a feeling she’ll need that.

Agnes van Rhijn is a mood. I really don’t want to make any comparisons with Downtown Abbey and bring up Dowager Countess of Grantham so I’ll just say this: Julian Fellowes sure does know how to write sassy characters. I love Agnes and how everyone seems to be terrified of her. I also appreciate that even though she’s The Bitch™, she is nice to Peggy and recognises her cleverness and talent.

Ada Brook is weird. She creeps me out. That’s it. I said it. I’m not sure whether it was intended or the acting is to blame here.

As much as I like watching glitter, glitz and petty fights, I’m really curious about Peggy Scott plotline. I think that there’s a lot of potential.

Also, Peggy’s mom saying ‘I’m your mother, I’m allowed to give you money’ is such heartwarming moment. It reminded me of my mom who gives me food so I don’t need to cook and my granny who puts money in my pocket and whispers that it’s for me to buy candies every time I visit her. Mothers being mothers no matter what era you live in.

I’m F1 fan so I couldn’t help myself giggling every time George Russell was mentioned.

Screw Bertha’s maid. Me and my homies hate her.

Was that corset comment truly necessary?!

As usual the visuals are gorgeous. I just love love looove watching period dramas and this one is an eye candy. I’m not an expert on historical costumes and I’m sure there are screw ups here and there but overall I think it does the job. It looks great to me. Although, jewellery occasionally looks kinda cheap.

Ahh that’s it. I think that I said everything that I wanted to. I’d like to chat with others so pretty please share your thoughts about the show.

Have a nice day ☺️

[skellebonez]

Because I'm sure this is going to be inevitable, how about some angst for the Chaos Trio (Mei, Jin and Yin)? With 61 and 52

Oh I have been looking forward to Chaos Trio angst since you sent me this, anon. Despite how they act in show... I think Jin and Yin are not exactly harmless. Especially if you mess with people they start to consider family.

The Cursed AU and the Chaos Trio in it come from @winterpower98!

Warning: blood and head injuries, enemy demons limbs (not detailed).

That is not a good hiding spot./I am a really bad actor.

Things had been going pretty well, all things considered. Jin and Yin had no problem getting Mei to join them in a little bit of... let's say "competitive insurance" as it were. They had to make sure they were secured in their own little tech related ventures, and after some financial setbacks they needed extra fallback. They’d planned the whole thing out with her help, more than 2 steps and everything! She was good at that.

The problem was that someone got a lucky hit.

They would have made it out with no problems, if they all hadn't decided going on Mei's motorcycle as a group (which, now that Yin thought about it, was probably incredibly dangerous and illegal with 3 of them on it... not that they cared about legality for themselves but somehow when it came to Mei that suddenly made them concerned). But nope. 1 bike. 3 people.

One lucky shot to the rear tire.

The three of them went flying, Mei landing very impressively on her feet whole Jin and Yin bounced on a bush and thanked anyone listening that demons were sturdier than humans. They didn't thank anyone for the pieces of bike that came flying at them all, and they were certain that they heard a piece make contact with something hard, maybe the nearby light pole, but couldn't be sure.

By the time they looked up they just knew they had a group of very angry demons that were pissed they stole and then wiped their code for... something, didn't matter to the twins what it was. They just wanted their competition out of the way. For solely selfish reasons. Nothing else. Not like they wanted it to see what it was and maybe figure out a counter attack so that certain overpowered people with monkey motifs would have an easier time in the future.

Not a chance.

As they fought off the attacking demons they insisted to themselves they didn't care that much.

"That is not a good hiding spot!" Jin yelled across the battlefield as Yin ducked behind crates. "Just chuck it for now and beat em with the blunt end of something else!"

"Just give me 2 seconds, I can fix it!" Yin yelled back, trying his best to reassemble a part of his sword hilt that had broken off.

"Come on, these guys ain't so tough!" Mei laughed out, easily dodging projectiles and backsliding and slicing and dicing as she went. No one was actually killed, but they were lucky because the only reason for that was the young woman wasn't exactly out for blood. They'd be feeling every single hit well into morning though! She was doing much better than the two of them. "Grab a pipe or something! Wish I had MK's magic building power though, I'd rather not be here all-YIN!"

The younger twin looked up from where he had been crouched, eyes widening as he saw the form of a much larger demon hulking over him and ready to batter him with a club.

Things had been going well. All things considered. Then someone got a second lucky hit.

Right as Mei dove in to push the younger silver twin out of the way.

For a second the fighting stopped. There was just the sound of wood hitting hard plastic and fiberglass as the club was sliced in half by her sword and the lopped off half continued it's trajectory and slammed into Mei's head to lead to her crumbling on top of Yin. Jin stood on too of a pile of crates, watching as a line of red seeped through a crack in her visor and stained the white of her suit.

And then his entire vision was red as he lunged at the demon and sliced, sending his arm flying in the opposite direction.

The demon screamed, holding the stump that was his arm from the elbow down, backing away as quickly as he could. "W-what the hell!?"

"Mei," Yin said softly, carefully clicking the emergency release button to make her helmet digitize away. Her eyes were closed, blood dripping from a slice running along her scalp... but as far as he could tell it was from part of the helmet being cracked and cutting her. She was most likely knocked out from the impact, breathing odd but steady in her unconscious state. "You... we're going to get you to the hospital."

His tone hardened as he carefully laid her on the ground, standing tall as he grabbed his broken weapon and a nearby piece of broken steel.

"You. Are going. To pay for that," Yin said coldly, stance no longer lose and half playful as it had been the whole battle. His stood tall, eyes wide and cold and the demons surrounding them felt a chill run down their spines.

Jin stood in front of him, blood from the other demon splattered across his face and chest in a stark contrast to his orange visage.

This... this wasn't the pair of Gold and Silver Demons they had heard about before. They were known for not taking almost anything seriously, making bad deals and pacts and weird blood oaths they wasted on bizarre favors. They were known for being good at tach but not much else, most demons in the area knew vaguely of their history with the Monkey King but even that ended in failure. Their plans were half baked, goofy, and lately they'd heard they'd gotten roped in with the Monkey King's successor and renewed flame of the Six-Eared Macaque.

The two standing before them did not look like the demons they'd heard about.

Mei hadn't wanted to seriously hurt anyone. The demons heard her yelling as much on the battlefield. But now Mei was hurt.

And the twins did.

It happened fast. They wanted to get it over with quickly. Mei had also not wanted to kill anyone at the very least the twins could do was keep up their promise from earlier in the day to avoid that. And they did.

That didn't mean there weren't lost limbs. Hands and arms. A leg or two. More than a couple eyes were lost. Someone lost an ear. Another a tail and horn.

Injuries they could recover from meant as warnings.

All it took was 3 minutes and the entire storage area they crashed in was a mix of grey and brown and red. Demons holding their injuries or running off.

The one who had attacked Yin and hurt Mei stood in awe and fear, looking down at the smaller twins who has decimated an entire group so fast.

"I-how!?" He yelled, backing up slowly. "This isn't possible, you're not this strong!"

"Who told you that?" Yin asked slowly, tilting his head and watching as the demon realized... he'd never heard they couldn't fight. "We don't fight like this because we don't want to. Never meant we can't."

"Why?"

"We are really bad actors," Jin said, wiping the blood off his weapon on an unconscious demon's shirt. "Why bother trying to hold back when we can just hide it by not trying?" He turned to the demon, glowering coldly as he watched his brother pick Mei up carefully. "Tell anyone who asks nothing. We'd like to keep it that way. Unless you want a round two where someone else doesn't hold us back."

And then they were gone.

~

"What in the actual hell happened?" Macaque asked in an even tone. Practiced even. A dangerous even.

"Well-" "You see boss-" "we kinda-" "-there was-"

Jin and Yin tried to think of a reasonable excuse, faltering as everything they thought of sounded worse and worse in their heads.

The two sat in Mei's hospital room, towels draped around their shoulders. They’d been smart enough to stash Mei's bike somewhere safe and wash off in the ocean before coming to the hospital, less covered in demon blood meant less scared humans when they rushed in with Mei in tow, and it was easy to make the nurses believe them.

Simple bike accident, friend hurt, help please.

With Macaque staring them down with his patented death glower, shadows growing and warping around the room in response to him, it was infinitely harder.

Of course Mei's emergency contact was MK. Of course MK could call Macaque before her parents (who were apparently on their way back from some kind of dragon family business trip when they learned). Of course Macaque would show up almost immediately and begin asking questions.

"It was my fault," Mei chimed in, voice slightly off from having awoken with a nasty concussion. "I thought it'd be fun to go on a joy ride late at night, I've done it before without issues! But, uh... I've never had two passengers before... and we hit something. Don't be mad at them?"

Macaque looked like he believed Mei as much as he believed Tang would lose interest in the Monkey King and switch his field of study to obscure methods of basket weaving. Which is to say: he didn’t. But he sighed, giving Mei a small smile as the shadows returned to normal.

"Ok," he said softly, tone much more gentle with the dragon descendant as he reached out to brush loose hair out of her face. "I won't be mad at them. I'll be very disappointed-" his tone hardened for a second at those words as he turned to the twins with a glower again. "-but I won't be mad. Do you need anything?"

"Maybe a candy bar from the vending machines outside?" Mei asked with a smile.

"Sure," Macaque laughed and shook his head, moving to the corner of the room. "I'll be right back."

He sunk into the shadows, a cool trick that the twins would always be impressed by, and they breathed a sigh of relief at knowing they were alone. For now.

"You didn't have to do that," Jin said, frowning at Mei in concern. Maybe it was just because he was now the eldest in the room, but some kind of protective feel pulled at him.

"I know," Mei said with a tired laugh, laying back into her pillow. "But you guys are like... my bros. I gotta stand up for my bros."

And that made both Jin and Yin pause. They looked at each other, eyes widening as they both came to a realization that was probably a very long time coming at that point.

"Yeah..." Yin said, a soft smile forming on his face. "We'd do the same for you... you know, if you didn't take that hit for me you probably would have kicked everyone's ass way better than us! We barely got out by the skin of our teeth!" A full truth and a blatant lie, but he hoped Mei wouldn't pick up on that second part.

"You know it, boi!" She didn't.

It was odd for him in particular. Yin had never really thought of himself as an older brother before.

First time for everything.

[redshiftsinger]

The thing is that nothing Mary does is unreasonable, but that doesn't mean she's always right.

Her responses aren't absurd for what objectively occurs, but the audience gets to know information that she's lacking.

She gets upset with Stede about how he responds to her painting, which, objectively speaking yes! He kinda fucked up! He said some things that we know he intended as supportive comments but were extremely easy to interpret as insults, if you're not in his head and don't have the same perspective on his general personality that we get as the audience. One could maybe fault her for not having figured out his general personality after being married long enough to have children plural who are plausibly old enough to do a painting, but we also know that he masks hard and isn't open and honest with her the way he is at sea, so it's at least not COMPLETELY on her.

And we know that he meant well with the "hey let's all go live on a ship" thing but it's very understandable why Mary would think that's insane! Young children at sea long-term isn't a well-thought-out plan. WE know he's trying to include his family in his interests and can see from his excitement about the idea of bringing them with him that he DOES genuinely care about them and want them to be part of his life, he just also wants everything about his life to change. He's suffocating and desperate to escape, and his first thought is to bring them along to (presumably, in his mind) be happier as well. It wouldn't have *worked*, he'd have still been gay and both he and Mary would've still been trapped in a loveless arranged marriage that neither of them ever really wanted, but it does say a lot about his actual genuine caring for them and considering them his family, despite how miserable he is in those circumstances, that his original escape plan includes them. He didn't start building a ship with plans to run off and abandon them. He started building a ship with plans to share that new life where he hoped to find joy with them. He only changes the plan to one where he leaves alone after Mary makes it extremely clear that she wants no part of it.

What he writes also shows that he cares for them. "Dearest Mary, you deserve happiness." He values his own chance for happiness, yes, but he also actively wants her to be happy. It's not certain, but there's a valid possible interpretation that he may have been undecided about whether to leave (yet, or maybe even at all) before she admitted that she wasn't happy either. It's possible that conversation was his final catalyst to go, knowing that he wasn't making her happy either by staying.

And if he was truly a selfish deadbeat, as some like to pretend, he likely wouldn't have left his entire fortune (minus, presumably, the cost of building the Revenge and some amount of money to get him started with paying his crew etc until they start pulling in loot) and declared it hers. He may have left them, but he at least ensured that Mary and the kids would be financially secure without him, which is more than can be said for the average modern deadbeat father.

And Mary's actual reaction -- real Mary, not nightmare-Mary or flashback-Mary who are manifestations of Stede's guilt and insecurity -- isn't anger, not even initially. She reads his letter and gets a look on her face that's almost relief. Like she realizes that his leaving also sets HER free. She's surprised, and possibly not really thrilled about it yet, but she's not angry. As we also see when he comes back and she's more angry with him for coming back than for leaving in the first place!

When he comes back, she's reasonable to be upset with him for, apparently, expecting her to just go back to being unhappy after he's the one who left when she was still trying to make things work out. She's not wrong to think "hey fuck you, if you wanted this life you had your chance". She's not wrong to think he's being bitchy and unreasonable and a huge pain in the ass for no good reason. WE get to know he's lashing out from unhappiness, because he made a colossally stupid decision in coming back in the first place and now he feels stuck with it, WE get to understand he's starfishing all over the bed because it's the first chance he's had to get a halfway decent night's sleep in three days and he's exhausted and traumatized, not because he's just a horribly selfish douchebag who fucked off and then swanned back in like nothing happened and can't even refrain from pushing her around when he's asleep, but Mary doesn't have that context. It's reasonable to think he's a horribly selfish douchebag, in her position! And he's not exactly helping that perception by sniping at her about Doug, then getting sloppy drunk and crashing her art show to further bitch at her for not catering to his expectations and threaten her lover. WE know he's desperately hurting and doing a poor job of coping, but she doesn't know anything of what actually happened while he was away until they finally talk. And when they do, when she understands even a little bit that he's not really that douchebag in her head, she forgives him entirely. He says "I don't fit in here" and "don't be [sorry about Doug], he's actually wonderful" and "what's it like being in love" and she starts to get it. "His name is Ed" and she REALLY gets it. And her willingness to re-evaluate her perceptions so quickly when she gets additional information is what makes her a true queen.

the way ppl treat Stede leaving his family is so upsetting tbh.

Tell me you've never lived your entire life bearing the weight of expectations you literally cannot meet without telling me.

Like y'all forget this was a repressed gay man. He didn't leave "on a whim", that is a gross misrepresentation by A STRAIGHT WOMAN who went on to THRIVE in his absence.

And don't come at me with any of that "But Alex, No One Said Mary Was Straight In Canon" no one said Stede was gay either! Cut the semantics, this is not about your frilly little queer headcanons. Mary has only ever been intimate with men in canon, at least in the case of i stances she enjoyed. The same goes for Stede and we all accept this means he's gay. Idc what u project onto Mary Bonnet, we're discussing /canon verse/ content here.

It's extremely homophobic of y'all to just hop on the bandwagon of a str8 woman grossly misunderstanding the turmoil her husband was experiencing in order to center herself as a victim in a situation where - frankly - she was a complacent bystander at best.

Like yeah Mary saw it as a whim bc he did not communicate with her. But we KNOW, it is shown IN CANON, that Stede spent years deliberating that decision. That is LITERALLY the opposite of a whim, plz shut up!!

The fact that y'all cannot recognize an unreliable perspective when you see one shows me you shouldn't be doing in-depth analysis of these scenes bc u literally do not understand how to read the intentional implications if they smacked you across the face.

[demonic-intervention]

Wenzhou Space Sweepers AU - Part 1: Setting & Characters

Part 1: Settings & Characters | Part 2: The Story

So, first of all a disclaimer: It has been a long time since I last watched Space Sweepers. And just quickly reading a summary, my idea is kinda far off from the movie except maybe for the general setting. I'm taking a lot of liberties. Consider this a sci-fi AU heavily influenced by Space Sweepers.

Setting & Background

Year two-thousand-something. Maybe later. A very big portion of explored space is privately owned and controlled by Zhao Jing. He doesn't have a paradise like the UTS offers but there is a class systems based on money, property, and job positions in place. Those in the highest class are rich and high up in the corporate hierarchy. They can live well in clean areas with huge apartments, clean air, and greenery. However, the lower you are the less important you are for the system. People in the lowest class work for the higher ups, mostly Zhao Jing's corporation (let's call it Five Systems Realm for the moment), and live in terrible conditions, cramped spaces next to trash collections, etc.

To control his space (called the sector), Zhao Jing works with Jin Wang's private police force which is basically a security company. Zhou Zishu works for Jin Wang as his second-in-command. Qin Jiuxiao is still his clumsy but earnest junior; Han Ying is Zhou Zishu's right hand man. When workers' on the outskirt of Zhao Jing's space revolt, Zhao Jing orders Zhou Zishu to send Qin Jiuxiao to solve the issue. Qin Jiuxiao ends up being lost. After many reconnaissance missions conducted both by Han Ying and Zhou Zishu himself, Qin Jiuxiao is pronounced dead. Zhou Zishu, who has already begun to question Zhao Jing's methods and his own hand in enabling all the atrocities, finally decides to quit the force. As punishment for his betrayal, he is degraded to the lowest class.

Characters

Zhou Zishu: Orphaned at a young age, Qin Huaizhang took him in. Zhou Zishu feels responsible for his younger brother Jiuxiao. After his death, the guilty of not being able to both protect and find his little brother eats him up. Discarded to the lowest class, Zhou Zishu works as a space sweeper. It's one of the lowest jobs one can have but he doesn't have any other options. He doesn't mind. Instead, he enjoys being his own boss. Handling toxic waste all day, there is a poison cocktail flowing through his veins. He considers this death sentence deserved punishment for his deeds. Still, alcohol might kill him first.

Wen Kexing: Wen Kexing's parents were at one point Zhao Jing's trusted business partners but coming from a medical background, they repeatedly advocated for better working conditions. Being a thorn in Zhao Jing's side, he first threw them under the bus financially and then hired the local mafia (space mafia? space mafia.) to kill them. Wen Kexing has secretly been plotting revenge for his parents for years. At the beginning of the story, he incites the revolts as the first step of his plan. He has been organizing the workers' efforts for better working conditions for years. Wen Kexing is a unionist, okay. The union is called, idk, Ghost Nebula? (open for debate, there is no valley in space) Throughout the story, Wen Kexing is pulling all the strings waiting for the right moment to strike and dethrone Zhao Jing.

Zhang Chengling: Zhang Chengling is an orphan of lower class parents, or so he thinks. His parents were actually higher class but he only learns of that much later. There is also a hidden reason for their early deaths (spoilers!). After they died, he was kicked out of their class as someone unable to contribute to society. Since then, he has fought his way through life barely surviving. When Zhou Zishu finds (and saves) him, he is in the middle of being threatened by the space mafia for accidentally stumbling into one of their business deals. Zhou Zishu doesn't like Chengling because he reminds him too much of Jiuxiao but Wen Kexing eventually coaxes him into letting Chengling tag along. Zhou Zishu figures that he probably should teach the kid some self-defense.

Gu Xiang: When Wen Kexing was just a teenager, he found little Gu Xiang behind a trash can at a space station. She had been surviving on food garbage and her feral appearance that seemed to scare away even the worst figures at the station. Nonetheless, Wen Kexing took her in. Now years later, she is one of the best pilots of the sector and piloting their space ship. Most of the time, she also fills the role of the bossy captain since Wen Kexing is away a lot, fucking around on space stations (make of that what you want). Gu Xiang looks intimidating and maybe she is but she also has a soft and caring heart which is showing when she soon warms up to Zhou Zishu, tolerating his presence on her ship.

Cao Weining: He is Gu Xiang's handsome boyfriend. I feel like it would really fit his personality if he were a talented mechanic keeping their ship running. However, it would also be funny if he were an android. Going along with this version, Gu Xiang found him among some salvaged space rubble when she and Wen Kexing were negotiating prices for some materials with a dealer. Cao Weining is a technical android, created for automatic maintenance. After convincing Wen Kexing to take him back to their ship, Gu Xiang discovered that there was a problem with his personality subroutines: he feels. She suspects that he was thrown away because of that but she kinda likes him. So much so that she even puts up with the occasional glitches that are caused by damages he was dealt at the junkyard. Cao Weining is hard working, dedicated, and fulfills Gu Xiang's every wish.

Ye Baiyi: Ye Baiyi is, how do I say it... the richest asshole in the sector. Richer than Zhao Jing. This is why he doesn't give a fuck about any private owned space; Zhao Jing is powerless against him. Ye Baiyi basically has a free pass everywhere he goes. Think of it as the ultimate space VIP status that gets you through any customs, closed doors, etc. (It's a dystopia after all. Money rules everything.) Ye Baiyi could have had anything but instead he checked out of controlled space years ago. He has a tiny but good ship that is comfortable and gets him where he wants to be. Because he travels non-stop, he is very knowledgeable. He is the only know person to have ever been outside of explored space. Nobody knows where his wealth comes from or how old this dude actually is. There are speculations though. (Some say he was one of the first to get cryo-frozen. The wealth comes from his assets having multiplied while he was asleep for decades. Others say he was paid unimaginable sums to undergo this experimental process. What kind of person would leave their family and everything behind for this?)

Jing Beiyuan & Wu Xi (they are a package deal): Jing Beiyuan used to be Jin Wang's right hand man years ago. Growing up together, Jin Wang fell in love with Jing Beiyuan when they were teenagers. However, Jing Beiyuan had already fallen in love with Wu Xi at the time. Having enough from Jin Wang, they ran away (if you ask Wu Xi, they eloped) to a planetary settlement outside of Jin Wang's control. Angered by this betrayal but still in love with Beiyuan, Jin Wang never stopped searching for him. Wu Xi is the head physician of the settlement. He has a lot of experience with various toxins and poisons and likes to experiment with plant-based medicine.

Han Ying: He is *ehm* was a commander under Zhou Zishu before the latter fucked off to enjoy retirement in a waste dump. Incredibly loyal, Han Ying wanted to follow Zhou Zishu initially but was quickly rejected. In order to help Zhou Zishu, he kept his position in Jin Wang's police force, collecting any kinda of information that could come in handy. He is the one who finds out what truly happened to Zhang Chengling's parents and Qin Jiuxiao.

----

That's enough for starters. If I deem a character relevant enough, I will add them here. The Ghosts are part of Wen Kexing's union. Maybe I'll find a way to include Xie Wang as well.

The second part will be about the plot, but more on that in a few days.

[astrolology]

The Love-Hate Relationship with Stelliums (Pt. 1) ✨

Guysss pls remember that astrology is holistic and this should be read taking into account your overall chart placements, as well as the planets in your stellium and what sign rules your stellium. TAKE NOTE lol

1st house

❤️: You may be a person who is very driven towards a particular goal, single-minded in behavior and with a sense of determination that is hard to beat. The focus is on self-improvement and is rather internally driven - there can be large amounts of time focused on figuring one’s identity out. You’re not afraid to say things as they are - you’re able to dish out criticism hard but you give credit when its due. You extend the courtesy you receive to others. You may have an innate sense of wisdom that you keep deep within that you don’t let slip unless to extremely close ones but in times of hardship you are a good source of motivation. You always seek to improve yourself and it’s hard (if not impossible) to drag you down because of your strong personality and how you tend to always move on no matter what. I think 1st house stelliums are the embodiment of “don’t look back” and y’all always try to make the best out of every best situation, sort of like seeing the silver lining in everything. And also when crises emerge you’re able to keep a calm head on your shoulders and are good at making snap decisions, which makes you good on your feet!

👹: I don’t think y’all are as self-absorbed as ppl make you out to be but there’s definitely an element of self-centredness such that when you do something, you often consider what is most convenient or productive for you. You might get upset when your plans are disrupted but sometimes do the same to others even though you might be aware of what you’re doing - in that aspect, 1st house stelliums can be hypocritical. For you, there is never enough - you’re never satisfied with anything, be it yourself or for other things so you can seem really unappreciative. Keep in mind that you also tend to force others to agree with you and don’t be so quick to dismiss the other party’s POV no matter how dumb it seems. Remember that there’s always something to learn from other people, no matter their status. You need to work on expressing your appreciation to others in a more genuine manner (altho I know y’all do it in gruff, slightly awkward ways when sincere - kinda cute ngl).

2nd house

❤️: You may be a person who has a strong moral code and has a staunch value system that you won’t deviate from no matter what. Sense of loyalty is usually unbreakable and it can take a lot to truly anger you. You can have a good financial sense and good instincts/foresight that allow you to plan ahead for stability’s sake. More often than not in certain areas you are a master of categorising and structuring things which means that your mind is analytical, critical and (usually) organised. You hate it when people think they know you because you (understandably) know yourself the best - there are many privatised layers of yourself that you prefer to keep... private so yeah it just annoys you when that happens. Y’all are a leader in certain aspects of your life and even though 2nd house stelliums tend to prefer being the right-hand man, your control freak tendencies come out and you end up leading anyway. You become really productive because of the fear of failure - you have crazy high expectations for yourself and expect the same of your closed ones (although ultimately you’ll support them in whatever they do). There is an appreciation for the finer things in life and when it comes to your loved ones you’re not afraid to spoil them hard. 

👹: Be careful not to let this driving need for stability restrict you from spontaneity and following your heart’s desire. There is an inherent inflexibility in your nature; stubbornness can really be your kryptonite. You don’t really take any opportunities that you think might threaten your security which, while giving you a stable fort, can hold you back in your own happiness + prosperity. You might realise that there is a limit to your perspective but really struggle in seeing outside of that perspective mainly because you spend so much time thinking about what matters to you that you’ve become accustomed to your train of thought (altho when you do break it it’s lowkey groundbreaking). The focus on this house is on stability, not only on material wealth, so while you may be reaping in one aspect you might tend to lack on the spiritual or emotional elements of life. You can be very, very controlling and demanding so you might want to tone it down a little if not people might get the wrong impression. People might think of you as judgemental (and you are tbh) but I believe it’s just 2nd house stellium’s way of assessing a person’s character/abilities. 

3rd house

❤️: You may be a person who puts in a lot of effort into various forms of self-expression (not limited to verbal communication but also finding a specific niche such as music, art, writing etc.) Your brain is naturally sharp and inquisitive and you may be able to pick things up very quickly. You might be rather adaptable but are surprisingly stubborn when it comes to your opinion or intellectual capabilities. You might have a dark/dirty sense of humor and because of that you also have a keen ability to see past the societal nuances of propriety and get to the heart/root of whatever a person is saying. You can spend your entire life trying to understand people and why things work the way they work - your brain needs to be stimulated in order for you to feel alive. Passion for you has to be applied in a productive manner - you probably aren’t a person to just take a passion for something as a mere hobby. Rather, you would either apply that passion to one of your existing projects, create a new one or use it as a motivating factor. Your interests are wide and varied, which makes you really well-rounded in certain aspects! 

👹: Many people say y’all are flighty beings and I can certainly see why they would think so. Because of your perceptiveness, you tend to change your narrative whenever you’re speaking to different people, so as to make yourself sound more convincing. In that aspect, you can be quite manipulative. Your ego probably isn’t the smallest either haha - you can tolerate being slighted at some things but if it’s a challenge to one of your passion projects you’ll probably become very upset. You need to stop giving people the hot and cold shoulder all the time and even though you’re quite sociable you tend to flaunt but hide your true thoughts. You have to be more open and honest in your self-expression, and not that idealised, constructed version of yourself you think people will find interesting. I’ve noticed that 3rd house stellium ppl have an obsessive need to “stand out” and make themselves feel unique which, despite all your charms and popularity, might be the reason why you find yourself sometimes so isolated. You’re a perfectionist (although you would deny it) and secretly quite controlling but unlike other stelliums you can manage it better I feel. 

4th house

❤️: There is a pressing insistence regarding relationships in your inner circle - be it your family, closest friends, or your future family. Extended focus on your cultural heritage can also be possible. Deep down, compassion is at your core and you are very protective of your friends in a silent but aggressive way. Having a stable family life is very important to you but I’ve noticed that more often than not, 4th house stelliums have turbulent family relationships. The beauty of 4th house stelliums is their ability to break through whatever toxic relationships they’ve been in and to create families of their own - be it unconventional or not. They are the epitome of “we choose our own families”. Y’all can be very empathetic and rather selfless to the point where you allow yourself to be manipulated (even though you’re aware of it) - but it’s usually for a justifiable reason. You find it easier than most to balance the emotional landscape but there are moments where you need an outlet to express yourself. There can be an obsession/possessiveness over your own culture - you take pride in your roots and become lowkey insulted when people disrespect it (and if you don’t, you somehow nearly always manage to find some other culture to assimilate yourself in). 

👹: Y’all probably get very upset when things don’t go your way but the problem with this stellium is that there is a want to speak out but you choose to bury everything inside instead - giving you a very passive-aggressive and even aloof image. Internally, you guys might think that you are giving off a very soft/giving aura but some people are wary precisely because you are hard to read. You are very, intensely private (rivalling 2nd/7th house tbh) and you have to learn how to share your true thoughts, no bullshit, no suger-coated thoughts with your family and dearest friends even though you are capable of handling yourself. You are independent, ambitious, and people often underestimate you, but you have to let people in first in order for them to know what you’re capable of! Also, idealisation of certain things (eg. a future family life/partner) can be prevalent and you overthink things to the point where sometimes you make yourself miserable. Again, please talk to someone hahaha you don’t have to deal with everything yourself. 

5th house

❤️:  Insecurity runs rampant in any 5th house stellium BUT y’all are quite paradoxical in a sense that you also have a very strong aura of confidence. Sometimes, in crucial moments, you manage to convince yourself and others that you are the most important person in the room haha - literally the epitome of “fake it till you make it”. Still, a deeply rooted kindness is found in 5th house stelliums such that you’re always looking out for the underdog in the room. If you are developed you probably have a strong sense of righteousness which prompts you to look out for people who might be struggling. Y’all are very concerned about your physical appearance and most of the time you like to keep your body in good shape, which draws the attention of people in the room. You likely have an infectious smile (this is just a hunch but I don’t believe 5th house stelliums smile a lot - y’all quirk your lips or smirk but a true smile is rare so when you do... it melts the hearts of people). Everything that you do will have a youthful flavor and you have a healthy appreciation for downtime/self-care so while you might not (contrary to popular belief) be that fond of kids, kids are attracted to you. Oh and actually I think the stronger this stellium is in a person, the shyer the person seems at first impression but inwardly and as time goes by, they become more humorous and dramatic. 

👹: You aren’t exactly manipulative, but you know how to use the power of suggestion (and your charms) to get what you want. If unchecked, it’ll become a habit because to you, it’s an instinctive thing to do and you might not realise you’re hurting other people because of it. You are stubborn and prideful (which isn’t a bad thing sometimes but) you take criticism quite badly such that if a person tries to offer their opinion or goes against your beliefs, you might take it as a personal attack. You have a fear of being restrained/constricted (like 9th house) so you’re actually quite aggressive to those who you perceive to be a threat to your authority. You can also experience extreme mood swings (from crazy happy/hyper to melancholic in a snap) and when you do you expect people to give you attention. But you are hypocritical in this aspect because you yourself can be quite insensitive to other people’s feelings, or you brush them off if you’re not “in the mood”. 

6th house

❤️: You are most probably quite an organised person, not in a tidy way (although you could be) but in matters of life there’s an insistence on order and structure. The way you think can be very logical - you are able to think concisely and connect the dots in a quick manner and logic is probably prevalent in everything you do. However, in contrast to this pragmatic behavior, you are deeply caring and you won’t think twice to give up something if a loved one needs it. You are very disciplined in certain aspects of life and you are able to maintain a consistent effort in everything that you do. You’re probably someone who finds joy in small things and although you have high standards, it doesn’t take much to make you happy, as long as it’s genuine. You can be a perfectionist and really quite meticulous in your work which makes you someone who is detail-orientated. You give a lot of yourself to other people and most of the time you don’t expect anything in return, which is one of the great things about 6th house stelliums. You take effort into maintaining your physical health and you mighttt be a fitness freak or someone who keeps track of their diet really carefully. It’s likely that you encourage other people to follow your lifestyle and generally, you exert a sort of mellow influence around other people that makes them want to be better. 

👹: There’s a tendency for 6th house stelliums to fall into pessimism, precisely because of your pragmatic nature. Y’all may say that you’re being “realistic” but in actuality it does dampen the spirits of some people. You can also become really unreasonable and inflexible once you’ve made up your mind on something and that makes you a bit narrow minded because you simply refuse to listen to other people’s POV. This can also cause tunnel vision which can really limit your full potential and I think it’s something worth spending your time working on. When pushed into a corner or feeling insecure, y’all might try to cover it up by being condescending or giving the cold shoulder. There’s also a risk of being overly reliant on a schedule/structure and hence, cautiousness when it comes to being spontaneous or embracing something foreign. Because of your affinity towards maintaining health, your hypochondriac tendencies may be exacerbated and you need to try to lessen your over-worrying behaviour haha. Although you never dish out something you can’t receive (eg. high expectations - you’re truly your worst critic), your demanding tone can really make others cautious of you.

OVERALL, I strongly believe that the way to embrace your stelliums isn’t to reject or force yourself to change the values they represent, but rather taking those eccentricities and moulding it into something more precious and beneficial to yourself. It has to be done with a thorough understanding of yourself; with patience. 

-C

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Freak of Nature.”

A continuation from yesterday. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope you enjoy the setup for some other stories I am planning on doing :)

Have a good day!

Breaking News

The Galaxy is left stunned after the events of late yesterday evening, when a single armed shooter appeared from the crowd and fired on UNSC leader and cultural icon Admiral Vir during a routine press conference given at UNSC headquarters Fort Harmony on the eastern Mericandian coast. Reports describe the event as happening midway through Admiral Vir’s address as the single, hooded female pushed through the crowd and drew a handgun on the Admiral firing once before fleeing into the crowd. She was apprehended by armed security agents only moments later as she tried to flee the scene. On scene witnesses report that an accompanying marine tackled Admiral Vir to the ground just as the shot was fired.

 In a statement made early this morning by Admiral Vir  he reports that, “Thanks to the brave actions of Corporal Angel Ramirez I am alive and unharmed.” Corporal Angel Ramirez is a decorated veteren of the UNSC deep space division and served his first tour aboard the UNSC Enterprise on its maiden voyage. Since then he has served under Admiral Vir on both the UNSC Harbinger and most recently the Omen distinguishing himself in combat during the Burg war and the Kree engagement. Our sources report that Corporal Ramirez was once an up and coming champion in the Mericandian winter Olympic ice skating team before joining the marines. 

Reports say that the corporal came out of surgery early this morning and is in stable but critical condition. 

The only question remains is who would attempt an assasination on such a beloved cultural icon. More on that with our crime reporter Jim Shaw.

Thank you, Emily, early this morning we received reports from Fort harmony officials that the name and identity of the shooter is 37 year old Adrea Halen member of a traditionalist leaning moderate group the Hunt Party, who have condemned Admiral Vir in the past for his support of legalizing extrial relationships. President Hunt, leader of the hunt Party and CEO of Hunt Metals said in a statement today. “Our party had nothing to do with Ms. Halen’s actions, while we disagree with Admiral Vir on some fundamentals of government, we would never attempt to silence him through violence. At the end of the day Admiral Vir has done far more good than he has bad and no man deserves to die due to his political views. What Ms halen has done is condemnable, and the party does not support her actions.”

Further comment was withheld until a later date. As of yet police have been unable to determine if she acted alone or with the assistance of the group. Police chief Henry Winzer added in his statement today, “Ms. Halen has not, as of yet, divulged her motives behind the shooting, however based on preliminary evidence of the scene it seems as if these were the actions of a woman acting alone. Detectives have been unable to find any correspondence between her and a third party and even her husband had been out of the country for the past few months.”

Her motive remains, as of yet, unknown. There is evidence of a radicalized political view since she did attempt and target Admiral Vir, and some of her personal social media content has been leaked to the public reporting her dissatisfaction with going the GA and her open disgust for extrial activities especially in regards her oldest son who was in a relationship with a Finnari before moving to Noctropolis. We have since been unable to contact him.

In the past Admiral Vir has been known as a great political proponent in favor of extrial relationships, and a non isolationist view having once said that, “Cooperation and companionship with the GA will be the bedrock of human expansion into space.” With the popularity of Admiral Vir as a cultural Icon, it can be said that his political views have been influential on the younger upcoming generations of today, while the older populace still remains wary of political involvement with extraterrestrial life. In oth-

Adam shut off the TV sinking back into one of the stiff plastic chairs that adorned the hospital waiting room. His eyes felt grainy and dry, and his head ached dully behind his eyes. Off in the corner of the room much of Ramirez’s family lay asleep on the plastic chairs including his father and otters who had arrived late last night. They had fallen asleep after a nurse ventured in a few hours to go to let them know that he was stable and alive. Adam himself had not been able to sleep thinking about his friend, replaying the moment over and over in his head wondering if there was something he could have done to prevent all of this from happening. But the more he thought the more he realized that it was probably unlikely. He might have been able to dive out of the way himself before the shot was fired, but Ramirez was already in motion before that.

He couldn’t have seen it coming, no one could have, and no one did.

Ramirez had just been the fastest.

He sunk back into his chair miserably and stared at the wall. There were no windows in this room, the guard detail had insisted upon it incase someone else tried for his life. It all seemed so strange to him. Why would anyone want to kill him? 

He knew the answer though, as much as he wanted to think he was just some nobody, he wasn’t anymore. He was… a political figure, someone who could influence what happened in the galaxy and there were plenty of people who weren’t bound to agree with him on a lot of things.

He just wondered why he hadn’t seen this coming sooner.

His implant buzzed, and he looked down to see that his mother was calling. Whoopse, she wasn’t going to be happy that she was just hearing about this over the news, but he knew he needed to talk to her. He stood and made his way into the hallway, where a protection detail eyed him hawkishly.

Closing the door behind him, so as not to disturb its sleeping occupants, he answered the call, speaking out loud as the implants in his throat and ear picked up the sound, “Hey, mom.” 

“Adam! Adam are you alright! I just saw the news.”

“Yeah, yea I’m ok.” He took a deep breath, “Sorry I didn’t call. It’s just been kinda hectic.”

“And you’re sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I mean, I feel like shit but no bullet wounds….” he trailed off 

There was silence for a moment, ‘I’m so sorry sweetheart, how is Ramirez?”

“Doctor’s haven’t given us all the details yet, but he's at least alive and survived surgery.”

“Thank goodness…. We owe that boy.”

“I know, mom…. I know.”

Just then he heard voices off down the hall and turned to see Dr. kill and Dr Katie approaching from the wings.

“Mom, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you as soon as I can, Ok?”

“Ok.” 

She let him go and he hung up as the two doctors approached.

“How is he!”

They motioned him into the room and he followed just as Ramirez’s family members were waking up.

Adam hovered near the door not entirely sure if he was supposed to be there. Ramirez’s mother sat up, “Is h ok!”

Dr. Kati and Dr Krill glanced at Adam. Adam realized with Dr. patient confidentiality, and it being family, he probably wasn’t supposed to be here. He went to step outside, but Ramirez’s abuela waved him back.

Ramirez an Dr Katie nodded.

The little alien stepped forward towards the family, “I have both good and bad news.”

The group waited with bated breath.

“THe good news is that your son made it through surgery. He is stable and recovering in the ICU.” he glanced over at Katie, “The bullet went in through his back, through his right kidney and perforated some of his lower bowl. We were able to fix the tears but the kidney…. Was not salvageable.”

The family glanced back and forth between each other, “That…. That’s not so bad though. He has two….”

Krill shifted slightly, “Well that is the remarkable thing and also the bad news but…. Your son only had one kidney. We wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for our imaging, but it seems he has lived with this defect his entire life without complication.”

Dr. Katie Cut in just then, “Since he was born with the defect, his body compensated. The kidney that was destroyed was much larger than average…” She trailed off 

The family members looked between each other, “So…. So what does this mean.”

“We have him on dialysis right now, and he is going to need a kidney transplant.” Dr. Katie folded her hands, “There are a few options, there is always the possibility of getting him a donor kidney or equally possible and more…. Advisable would be to have a kidney grown for him using his own stem cells, that way we can grow him one like the one he lost considering there is no way for us to give him two. If he were to get a donor kidney, he would have to undergo chronic gene therapy to avoid medications that would leave him immunocompromised. However in that case he would need to be medically discharged. If we were to grow him a new kidney, he would be able to return to his post without being discharged, but the cost is…. Admittedly much higher.”

The family glanced between each other their faces pulled into grimaces.

Adam knew their financial situation. He had heard stories about Ramirez growing up and knew enough to know that his family had never been well off. They had been close, his childhood had been excellent, but they had never been rich. Affording either of those options was going to be a stretch.

“Well we will have to talk about-”

“I’ll pay for it.”

The entire room turned to look at him.

“You-”

“I said I will pay for it. With the settlement for the court case, I can pay for it. He saved my life this is the least I can do, Please…”

His pleading was so plaintive that the family could hardly say no. He did have a point as well. Instead, he received an enthusiastic hug from Ramirez’s younger sister who clasped her arms around him and nearly snapped him in half with her strength. She was an olympic boxer after all, so he wasn’t surprised.

“Thank you thank you thank you.” She repeated.

Dr. Katie looked at him with a pointed expression, but she didn’t need to ask. He intended to pay for every last cent of Ramirez’s treatment even if he had to fight his abuela for it. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d win against her, but he would damn sure try if it meant doing something fo his friend.

He owed him after all.

And even if he didn’t Ramirez was his best friend. This wasn’t about owing him, this was about doing anything for someone he cared about.

Dr. Krill shifted in his place, “We will get the equipment ready and start later this week. I…. would be honored to perform the operation. I will be upfront with you and say that I am the universe's foremost surgeon, but I would also be the first Alien to perform a transplant”

“I of course, you saved his life last night-”

They seemed almost in shock. Everything was being paid for and the universe most renowned surgeon was practically begging to do it.

The only way this could have been better is if their son hadn’t been shot in the first place.

***

The steady beeping of the machine echoed around the room. Adam sat with one ankle crossed over a knee looking down at his implant and absently reading through that day’s news report as a soft whirring came from the machine just to his right. He wasn’ technically supposed to be here, but the doctors had made an exception for him and the family. On the other side of that a glass tube was busy growing an extra kidney. There was security outside the door and a doctor came in every few minutes to check on the kidney, and the man to which the kidney belonged.

Adam scrolled dow.

There was a shifting just to his side, and with relief Adam looked up to find Ramirez stirring. The man tried to open his eyes but squinted against the light and groaned raising one IV tethered hand to block the light.

Adam leaned over resting a hand on his arm, “Hey you’re finally awake.”

Ramirez cracked an eye at him and groaned.

“Come on ya freak wake up.”

Ramirez closed his eyes again, “Why…. When I wake up do I have to see your ugly ass.

Adam snorted, “How sweet, freak.”

“Freak, have you looked at yourself lately.”

“At least I was born with all my kidneys.”

Ramirez opened his eyes and frowned, “What?”

Adam smiled slightly, “Turns out your dumbass has lived his entire life with only one kidney. Congratulations, you are a freak of nature.”

“No shit, really? I had no idea.”

“We know, anyway the bullet sort of ruined it, so you have to get a new one. He pointed across the room to the glass tube and its slowly growing kidney which was no bigger than a jellybean right at that moment.”

Ramirez looked and frowned, “Ew, gross… wait who's paying for that,because I don’t think the military covers transplants.”

“It's taken care of.”

“By who.”

“By someone.”

“Someone who.”

“Someone who would rather remain unnamed.”

Ramirez looked at him,”It’s you isn't it.”

Adam sighed, “You saved my life, so shut up and let me buy you a new kidney. I owe you that much at least.”

“Fne, fine.”

There was a pause between them.

“I….. thank you, for saving my-”

“Dude don’t get all sappy and shit on me ok. You would have done it for me.” Adam went quiet still wishing to thank his friend but knowing Ramirez would never accept i.

Ramirez shifted to look at him, “So, you know why they tried to kill you?”

Adam shrugged, “Not really, the lady who did it has some political affiliations who don't tend to agree with me, but that connection doesn't seem to fit completely. Either that or she blames me for making her son an extrial in which case….. That hardly makes sense either.” he shrugged, “Either way she isn’t talking, and now I can’t go anywhere without five to six bodyguards spilling out my ass.”

Ramirez snorted, eyes closing, breathing deeply.

“You feeling ok.”

“Yeah…. I’m alright, just tired.”

“Then go back to sleep ya big idiot. Maybe if you’re a good boy santa will leave a kidney under your pillow.”

Ramirez let off a weak huff, “Didn’t know santa was a black market organ dealer.”

“He is this christmas, now shut up and go to sleep.” Ramirez didn’t argue with him beyond that point, and fell back asleep just as a nurse ws coming to check on him.

Adam was relieved. 

Ramirez was, hopefully, going to be ok.

Though what remained were far more questions than there were answers. 

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Philosophy 101

Philosophy 101 Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: FuyuPress Summary: FuyuPress Week 2021 Day 2 Prompt Fill: Soulmate - “Soulmates?” he asked with a brow raised. He reached up with his prosthetic hand to rub at his chin thoughtfully. “What a peculiar thing to ask about.” Minor Warning: Implied Hanky-Panky but nothing explicit. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

When she was just a child, she loved stories about soul mates. Things like true love’s kiss and handsome princes’ come to save the day on horseback became her idealistic view of the world. She clung to those fairy tales and how they could be applied to the real world, asking Mother often is that was what Father was to her. Back then she hadn’t noticed how the smile never reached the gray depths of Mother’s eyes, but she came to understand it as she got older. A prince wouldn’t belittle, berate and beat the princess he so adored. Her parents’ marriage being something born of financial comfort and narcissistic ego rather than loyalty and love had been a heavy blow.

The accompanying realization that there may never have been any love between her parents had been somehow more terrifying.

In high school, her disillusionment with the idea of love and soul mates had been given even more evidence. Between herself and her friends, so many of their “charming royal suitors” turned out to be nothing but façade and hormones. They would be cruel in so many different ways, in ways she still bore the physical and emotional remnants of, and she’d resolved herself to be content on her own. She had her family and her work and her friends – the ones that had been with her through it all – and she determined that she would commit to that being enough for now. She resigned that she would most likely settle for someone Father selected, someone who would be financially secure and – if she was lucky – gentle enough that rearing a family would be tolerable.

And then there was Sako Atsuhiro, more enigma than man.

Their first meeting had been anything but graceful. It had been on a field trip day to a local museum for a more hands-on experience involving pre-Quirk society. Her little problem child, Toshiro-Chan, had been fiddling about with his Quirk as he was prone to. His Quirk was that he could temporarily make any item - even ones that lacked any metal component - magnetic for a short period of time. Thinking that it would be a fun little prank, he’d magnetized one of the plastic line poles used to keep the children from getting too close to the exhibits…

And ended up dragging poor Sako over through the means of his prosthetic arm.

Fuyumi had been absolutely mortified, offering frantic apologies to Sako and stern words to Toshiro-Chan as she tried to help separate his arm from the pole. Sako had been a darling and taken it all in stride, though. He made a few teasing remarks to help alleviate some of her distress and the young tot’s guilt, reassuring that he was in as many pieces as he’d entered the establishment in. He had ended up trailing along with her class after that, the students all fascinated more in his prosthetic arm than the sights they were there for. Once the students were all loaded back up onto the bus and with one final plea from Fuyumi to find some way to make it all up to him, he made a suggestion.

“If you insist, young miss,” he mused, producing a small slip of paper between his fingers from thin air, “treating me to a beverage some time would be a welcome gesture of apology.”

And that first little coffee date had bloomed into something unexpected but new. Fuyumi was used to the polite and suave gentleman act that he seemed to play at, but she found the big difference to be that it wasn’t an act with him. THe more she grew to know him, the more she realized he was very much a “What You See is What You Get” kind of man. He wasn’t afraid to purr softly in her ear of the things he’d relish in doing to her once they were alone and then hold true to those words when they were. He was as polite and respectful and responsible behind closed doors as he was on the street and this concept was absolutely earth-shattering for her. For Todoroki Fuyumi, who presented herself as the sensible and mature daughter most would expect of a Pro Hero, the idea of someone who was so unabashedly themselves in every aspect of their life, it was new and enticing and hypnotic in a way.

Which was probably why her mind wandered back to childhood fantasies, blurting the question out before she could think better of it as they lounged together in his bed one night.

“Soulmates?” he asked with a brow raised. He reached up with his prosthetic hand to rub at his chin thoughtfully. “What a peculiar thing to ask about.”

She shuffled to nuzzle into his pillow a bit more, hiding the lower half of her face and muffling her words a bit. “Is it?” she asked uneasily. A flash of panic coursed through her. Had she crossed some strange line between them? Would such an immature question turn him away from her? “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. It is a kinda weird question. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

He blinked, brown eyes twinkling as he fixed his gaze back on her, before a small smile tipped up on his lips. “Nonsense, my dear. If you were thinking about it to a point you wanted to mention it, it is clearly important for you to discuss it,” he said, reaching out with his flesh hand to gently stroke along her cheek. She shifted to tilt up into the touch more, relaxing a bit at the soothing familiarity of his touch. “If you are asking as to whether I believe that soulmates are real or not… I don’t believe in something as basic as one singular soulmate for your whole life long.”

She perked up and made a small confused noise. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I feel like every partner - good or bad - has qualities indicative of what a soulmate is meant to be. For elaboration, what is a soulmate as you see it?”

She hummed thoughtfully as she pushed herself to sit up with the help of her elbows more. She steepled her and tapped them against her lips as she tried to sort her thoughts properly. Atsuhiro had moved to gently trail his hand over her shoulder to draw little shapes along the exposed skin of her back instead. “Well, they’re someone who is there for you when you need them and not always in ways you expect. They accept you as you are, and inspire you to be a better person. To work to be the best side of yourself. The side of you that they see you as,” She watched as he nodded along with her words, smile widening a little bit. She shifted to move a smidge closer to him. “And what about you?”

“I would agree with what you’ve said,” he hummed, holding up one finger on his other hand, “and would also state that there are parts or what you said that I learned from past lovers.”

“So you’ve met your soulmate before then?” she asked, cocking her head and knitting her brow.

He chuckled and shifted to lay on his side beside her. “Not quite. Perhaps they are not your soulmate for all of time, but they are in that moment. And I think that there is something to be treasured in that,” he explained, lifting his arm to invite her closer.

She frowned as she shifted to laying on her side as well, hands sliding to rest on his shoulders. “But… Doesn’t that kind of lessen the significance of having a soulmate? If every person you’re with is a soulmate?” It made little sense to her and felt a bit like a cop-out, if she were honest. After all, the idea of her past partners being considered soulmates make her stomach churn uncomfortably. Sure, there had been points where she’d thought it could be possible, but… Well, hindsight was 20-20, right?

“Perhaps, yes, but I do not feel so,” he mused. He settled his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to himself, looking down at her with a fond expression. “If not for those past experiences, I would not be the person that I am proud to be today, the man who is happy to spend his time with you and treat you as you deserve. And I needed all of those past lovers and the times with them - both the good and the bad - to be able to come to certain realizations about myself. To teach me what was important to me in the kind of partner I was as well as the kind of partner I wanted.”

Fuyumi blinked and nodded slowly, letting his words turn over in her mind. It… Did make a certain kind of sense, actually. She was only able to determine the things she wanted in a serious, committed relationship because of what she’d been through with her past partners. If she hadn’t dated them, would she still be as naive as she was at age seven? Believing that her ideal partner would be someone who was perfect and handsome and, realistically, didn’t exist? And that wasn’t even taking into account the little things she’d learned to perceive from a handful of dates. Would she still be able to spot a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Or would she just be a sheep to the slaughter, of sorts?

“Does that help at all, my dear?” he asked, pressing a small kiss to her forehead and snapping her from her internal ramblings.

She flashed a small smile before curling into his chest. “Yes, I think it does, Atsuhiro. Thank you,” she hummed, closing her eyes as he began to gently stroke her hair, fingertips grazing along the shell of her ear.

Perhaps his definition was a bit more romantic than she’d thought.

[yuu-the-pokemon-trainer-of-nrc]

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(Click for better quality)

I caught the Pokémon fever and I felt the urge to draw Yuu as a Pokémon trainer!

I kinda want to make a new AU where Yuu actually comes from the Pokémon world as well as update her BIO. Also I’m thinking of changing the color her school uniform’s vest.

Also, in this AU I think with her Pokémon by her side, she’s a lot more confident enough to think she would have no need to disguise herself as a boy. So this is what her uniform would look like:

Backgrounds I used:

Name: Yuu

Gender: Female

Age: 18 (I know I said she was 16 before, but now I want to change it 😖)

BIO: (It got a bit long, so I hid it under cut)

In the world of Pokémon, Yuu was originally from Opelucid City in Unova with her single mother. They were a poor family and her mother stressed day after day, trying to make ends meet while also putting up with the other responsibilities that came with being a parent. What set her over the edge was when Team Plasma attacked the city and froze it in ice along with their home. This made Yuu’s mother decide to put her in foster care in Castelia City in hopes another family would come and take better care of her daughter. That’s what she said, but when Yuu looked at her mother’s face she couldn’t help but see a bit of relief in her eyes. After that, Yuu mostly kept to herself, not really interacting with the other kids, blindly hoping that her mother would return once she’s more financially stable, but she never did...

One day, when she and the other foster kids were out and about the city (with adult supervision of course), enjoying their Casteliacones, a Patrat swiftly took Yuu’s remaining cone! She chased after it down in one of the alley’s, and hid around the corner and made a big discovery! The Patrat was actually a disguised Zorua! After hearing his stomach growl even after he scoffed the cone down, Yuu felt sorry for the illusion Pokémon and approached it. Zorua growled as Yuu settled down her backpack to take out her lunch bag and revealed it’s contents to him. “You need it more than I do. Take it.” She got up and left to return to her group, leaving behind a very confused Zorua. Oddly enough, Yuu met Zorua again shortly on the same day. After finishing most of her lunch Zorua saved an apple and followed her home to return it. (Disguised of course) But even with the disguise, she recognized the apple immediately and could see right through Zorua. Since then the two would meet when Yuu had the time and bring Zorua some food and she would chat and play with him. Sometimes she would talk about something funny she saw on TV, or go ranting about how annoyed she gets with grown ups pestering her about playing with the other kids when she wasn’t even interested. The only game she was interested in was Hide n Seek, but was then banned from playing it by the adults for being too good at it. And couldn’t even talk about Pokémon with the other kids without talking like a “stuck up know-it-all”. As well as talk about her dream of finally becoming a Pokémon trainer and go wherever she wanted without any kids or adults telling her what she can or can’t do. Zorua would then bark at her like he understood what she meant, and for the first time, she felt she finally has a friend/ally.

Then one day, one of the other kids leading a group traced back to where she had been meeting Zorua and found him, and by the time Yuu got there, she was horrified to find the kids circling and ganging up on a distressed Zorua - wanting to touch his ears and tail. At first, Yuu froze in fear, fear that now the kids know where her special meeting place with Zorua was, fear that Zorua might think she betrayed his trust by telling them about this place, but as Zorua cried out - Yuu snapped. Pushing all the other kids away, shielding Zorua, Yuu yelled at them to leave Zorua alone. It did not sit well with the biggest kid, who shoved Yuu to the ground, which angered Zorua! Zorua then used scratch on the kid and used his power of illusions to change into a Hydreigon! Not realizing it was an illusion, the kids ran away, crying and screaming. This greatly relieved Yuu, believing this event would make the kids think twice before messing with them again. However, that sense of security was short-lived ‘cuz shortly after it, she was confronted by the adults who run the foster home as well as a policeman, who was holding a struggling Zorua by the fur collar. Yuu was scolded for attacking the other kids while also making contact with a dangerous wild Pokémon that had a history of stealing food from tourists and local alike and now has attacked a defenseless child. Yuu tried to explain that Zorua was starving and how those kids were scaring him and the only reason he attacked was because she was shoved. But her explanations fell on deaf ears as the policeman said he’ll take Zorua somewhere far away from Castelia City. All Yuu could think of was that she was about to lose her only friend and will be left alone with kids who hate her. Not wanting to bear with that reality, she charged for the Policeman, kicking his shin which was enough to make him to lose his grip enough for Zorua to wriggle away free. And the two both charged out into the alleyways of Castelia City.

Since then, Yuu was a small child with a Zorua on the run. The police were frantic about searching for them, but thanks to Yuu’s cleverness when it comes to Hide n Seek and Zorua’s illusions, it made it all too easy to give them the slip. They were together, but unfortunately they had to steal food in order to get by. One of these thefts lead to a fateful encounter with a certain mad scientist by the name of... Colress.

While he was enjoying his newfound freedom from police custody at a café, Yuu swiped one of his pastries. And of course, it had to take one misstep to alert Colress that he was being stolen from which prompt Yuu to run as if her life depended on it. But as she regrouped with Zorua, they were suddenly surrounded by Colress’ Klingklang, Magnezone, and Porygon-2. With KlingKlang using protect from Zorua’s attacks, they had no way of getting out of it. But even then, Yuu refused to give up if it meant that she and Zorua will be separated. Seeing her bond with Zorua as well as her ability to give Zorua commands despite not even old enough to become a trainer, Colress’ interest was piqued and the gears of his mind started to turn. He held off his Pokémon’s attack, and met with Yuu at eye-level to ask her about her story with Zorua. At first, Yuu refused saying he’s just another adult who would never listen to her or give her the time of day, only for him to respond that it’s quite the contrary. Something about his eyes told Yuu that this isn’t something he would lie about and she reluctantly told him about her situation.

And Yuu didn’t know how (and was too afraid to ask), but somehow Colress was able to convince the people at her foster care to let him take custody of her as her guardian as well as convince the Police to let Zorua off. But one thing she did ask is why he decided to help her and Zorua out in the first place, his response was, “Because I firmly believe that someone should never be separated from a Pokémon they have a clear bond with. No matter what age they may be.”

And since then, Yuu and Zorua were always together. And though Colress was her guardian, he was never a father-figure for Yuu. Yes, he did provide Yuu and Zorua food and shelter, as well as Yuu’s education. But he never hid the fact that he saw the bond between Yuu and Zorua as a fascinating research subject. Sometime even testing how in-sync their brainwaves were. Yuu didn’t really mind either as long as no one dares to take away Zorua again and at the time she saw Colress as the only adult that was ever straight with her.. Zorua himself didn’t trust Colress and would always keep a sharp eye on him while sticking close to Yuu.

Hearing about the close community of people and Pokémon in Alola, Colress moved his lab there thinking it would be the ideal place for his research and took Yuu and Zorua along with him. At first Yuu didn't know how to feel about the change, but was surprised that compared to the kids she knew in Unova, she actually thought decently about her classmates at the Pokémon school that she was enrolled in. For one thing, they actually respected Zorua's space and hers which was a huge breath of fresh air. And her teacher, Professor Kukui, just let her take her time before getting to know them instead of pushing her to do things that made her uncomfortable. Later on, Yuu hears about how close the other students are with their parents, which made Yuu more aware of how different she is from them considering she doesn't exactly have a typical father/daughter relationship with Colress. Seeing her newfound sense of loneliness, Professor Kukui invited her to his lab to spend time with the Pokémon while also meeting his wife, Professor Burnet. It wasn't long before Yuu started having dinners with the married couple and started seeing them as parental figures.

(Now this has been going on for a little while now, so I’ll just sum up the next part shortly as the next part should be stories for another day)

When she became a trainer at the age of 11, Yuu decided to take on the Island challenge. Along the way she became partners with Primarina, Toucannon, Raichu, Mudsdale, Lurantis, and among others with those 5 plus Zoroark being her main 6 for Alola. And after becoming Alola’s first champion, Yuu decided she wanted to travel to experience everything the world has to offer, not only to perfect her battle-style further, but also to meet the Pokémon of every region as well as to grow deeper bonds with her Pokémon.

[ihavelovednone]

Emily & Miguel: Power & control

This post is long - REALLY LONG. I’ve tried to reduce it and separate it - but it’s not really working. So here goes. It’s centered around Emily and Miguel and the power imbalance between them and the abusiveness that he displays. I hope it’s somewhat interesting and not to hard to follow - if you read it in full that is.

The initial power imbalance There are several aspects in Miguel’s and Emily’s relationship that creates a power imbalance between them. First, and probably the one that relates to every other imbalance in their relationship, is the fact that she’s a woman. That doesn’t really need any further explaining. Women are generally seen as the weaker sex and there’s a long since decided role for women that still has deep roots in our society and in Emily’s life it’s very prominent. Dita displays dislike about Emily involving herself in the search for her child for instance. Devante uses a tone that reeks of aw, little girl and Miguel is somewhere in between wanting to be the sole provider and wanting her help.

One more obvious thing is the clear age difference between Miguel and Emily. It’s kinda like a spinn on the stereotypical old husband, young wife trope - except that Miguel, even though he’s no spring chicken, is still relatively young and very attractive. Kurt Sutter and Elgin James are so subtle in the way they decide use a stereotype without stereotyping that if you don’t look closely, you miss it. 

I think they met when Emily was in her final years of college or in law school and Miguel was in the start of his business career - the legal business that is. I have this idea in my head that Miguel tried really hard to impress her and she just rolled her eyes at him. Emily’s smart and strong, opinionated and a fighter, we’ve seen that in season 1 when Emily’s delivered info to Miguel about LO, called Devante out on his misogynistic shit and when she didn’t let herself get intimidated by Potter. She also found the info about the murder of EZ’s mother and called out Miguel’s hypocrisy in season 2. 

At the same time there’s an insecurity within Emily. She’s probably been told several times by her parents that she’s not good enough. When Emily meets Miguel the break-up from EZ is probably still lingering, even if it was awhile ago they ended in a way that never really gave them closure - she didn’t just loose her first love, she lost someone that was a security to her. On top of that she’d lost her baby (yes I say lost because I don’t think she’d have aborted it had the circumstances been different). This probably made Emily more susceptible to Miguel’s charm.

That insecurity is very apparent in season 2 when Miguel starts spending more time with Adelita. He used to worship the ground she walked on, she was his “touchstone” and all of a sudden his work is all about taking Potter down with the help of Adelita and Emily ends up being in the background. There’s a desperation in her actions in that season. She enters territories she’d never actually enter otherwise. She’s so desperate for the Agra Park thing to work because she never chose the cartel, she chose Miguel. 

There’s also a duality with Emily in season 2 - The cartel is, up until the kidnapping of Cristobal, in the background of Emily’s life. She didn’t see, she didn’t hear.  I think she stayed with Miguel in the hopes that he’d liquidate the cartel and go one hundred percent legit but now, he’s rising - he’s making more money and Emily’s spurring him on. Maybe because she wants to be more involved with him, close to him, move Adelita out of the way. She wants to feel needed. It’s a weird dynamic between them, like the abused wife that wants to please her man or something.

Never in control Miguel might’ve initially been a person she found to be what EZ once was - a safe harbor, a home, a lifeline. Not necessarily financial, more emotional. Emily sees Miguels way of treating her with loving words and gifts as affection, maybe she knows that there’s something else under the beautiful exterior, maybe she doesn’t. As Erin said, they choose men that are darkness personified, hinting that they seek it out, it comes naturally - almost as a way to punish themselves for not being good enough. Miguel’s affectionate behavior bleeds into darkness, or maybe his affectionate behavior is actually something sinister altogether - like he feeds on women wanting him, needing him, he uses it to get to them.

In the midst of her vulnerability Miguel displays behaviors of wanting for her to belong to him and no one else, and that’s dangerous and toxic. She doesn’t realize that behavior as problematic until season 2 - even though it starts in season 1 when he propagates to EZ that he need to leave Emily alone - because it complicates things. 

Emily’s very isolated. She has no friends, she’s got no one that’s just hers. Except for EZ when he gets out of prison, and even so, they’re not really friends either. They’re more in limbo than anything. And even though they’ve got a past - she’s got the right to spend time with whoever she wants. Or should have the right. Loyalty to a man does not derive from how few men you’re in contact with as a woman. Emily doesn’t need to go back to her man, or only stay by his side. She’s not Miguel’s property. She’s allowed to have relationships with other men - as long as she’s not actually cheating - and even if she wanted to - she’s could, it doesn’t warrant abuse of any kind.

His want for her to be a housewife - or work close by, offering her a job in his company - is toxic. Why? Well, she’s constantly under his watch, she’s doesn’t have the opportunity to make new acquaintances and friendships without those people having relations to Miguel. If Miguel were to demand information about what a person has spoken to his wife about - they’d tell him - in fear of loosing their job, or their life. Now, had Miguel not displayed other types of weird and controlling behaviors it probably wouldn’t have crossed my mind that she worked for him. It would’ve been fine.

Him having her ride with a platoon and not be left alone is, yeah, you guessed it: TOXIC. Freedom is not something that she has. You might think that Emily, just because she lives in an ocean of money and opportunity that she’s somehow free. She’s not. She has no privacy. And yeah, you could argue that Miguel’s cartel work is dangerous and therefore she needs to be protected - but at what cost? She’s constantly under the watchful eye of Miguel’s lackeys - which becomes more apparent in season 2 when Nestor’s following her every move without her knowing. They work for him - they abide to him. She doesn’t have the ability to do what ever she wants - and when she does, he abuses her, as seen in S01E05. As I said in a post that’s been deleted now: Miguel is, most of the time, abusive without actually doing it himself. He uses his staff to control her.

We’ve never actually seen Miguel give Emily any presents, probably because it’d be very stereotypical of him and Sutter and James want to avoid stereotypes. But I think he’d do something like that, considering his expensive taste in suits, cars and other things - I think he likes showing of how rich he is. 

Miguel comes of as one of those people who’d use presents to stifle someone. The wife’s mad? Get her a meaningless expensive present to shut her up and simultaneously tell her you care for her without actually asking how she’s feeling. She thinks you don’t love her? Diamonds, get her some diamonds. Diamond equals love. Him throwing all kinds of materialistic shit at her is toxic and it doesn’t matter how much he loves her because his behavior ends up being manipulative and controlling every single time. 

The comment you should be grateful feels like something that’d come out of his mouth to (and probably from people on the outside looking in). Not that many women get to live a life in luxury, he’d probably say. Like she should be grateful for something she never really asked for. 

Conclusion This became a long post - probably longer than all my posts so far - combined. There are so many red flags with Miguel and Emily - some of them so subtle you hardly notice them. In the first episode I thought they’d go the whole sugar daddy route which might seem cool and fun in theory. But it’s in fact a very common way for young women to enter prostitution so I’m glad they didn’t go that way with it and display it like it’s no big deal - it’s all fun, look at all the pretty things I get for being a companion. 

Miguel’s abusive behavior is subtle at times and yeah, he loves her and she love him, but it doesn’t matter when the relationship is so unhealthy. Writing this piece has given me a new perspective of the two as well. Emily’s desperate to not loose Miguel - why? Most likely because she’d be on her own otherwise and she’s not really ready for that and Miguel’s behavior is probably something he’s picked up from his childhood and I’m not sure he’s always aware of it. Miguel very insecure. Let’s be honest, no man comfortable within himself would ever restrain a woman’s social circle, career or freedom to roam.