#my favorite for my back pain is child’s pose

[detentiontrack]

Not to be THAT person but yoga has helped with my chronic pain so much

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine breaking the news about the seraphim to King

You: I have bad news

King: [let's out a pained sigh] what could be worse than my race being revealed to the world, Kaido losing a fight, our empire falling, losing my wing, and being imprisoned by the very people my boss oppressed?

You: so we just heard from Luffy, and apparently. Vegapunk used the samples that he collected from you all those years ago.

King: [ throws back his head and cries] Fuck!

Queen: What'd he use them for? I had opted for cloning the skin samples to create a fleshy exoskeleton for a cyborg.

You: he made Lunarian cyborg clone-babies of some of the warlords.

Queen: oh! Cyborg Clones, huh? I had personally voted we use the skin samples we collected to create a skin for a mech, but cyborg clones never really occurred to me.

Jack: [guffaws] which ones?

King: [scrunches his eyes closed, crosses his fingers and whispers] not Moira, not Moira, please not Moira.

You: Kuma, Mihawk, Jinbe, and Boa Hancock.

King: how is that so much worse! Boa and Mihawk were intense enough as humans. And Kuma and Jinbe were strong enough due to their own species!

You: from what Nami said, they look around 8 or 9 years old. Vegapunk was kind enough to include pictures and details. [Holds out the package]

King: [can't stand the sight of the files, so he looks at the pictures first and sees they all look like normal photos a parent might take.] These are posed photos, aren't they?

You: most likely

Queen: [peeks over his shoulder] oh Boa is still beautiful as a child. Which makes sense, seeing as she's gorgeous as an adult.

Everyone in the room: [ ಠ⁠ಗ⁠��]

King: [holds up a flaming fist] Kaido isn't here to protect you from me anymore.

Jack: [gives Queen a menacing look]

Queen: OH, NO! Not like that! NO!

No one in the room: [believes him]

A week later

You: hey King, so uh, I was wrong.

King: [pinches the bridge of his nose] please, don't.

You: There are other seraphims than the ones I told you about.

Queen: Figures

King: ... There's a Moira seraphim, isn't there?

You: [gives him a pinched smile] yeah, there's a Doflamingo, and a Crocodile seraphim too.

King: a Dofla-! That bastard! Mixing my genes with Moira of all people is bad enough, and to mix in a celestial dragon, especially Doflamingo, is even worse!

Jack: maybe Doflamingo was cute as a kid?

You: Ehh, no. I wanted to punch Doflamingo as an adult, but I want to punch him even more as a child.

King:[notices you are carrying more files] are those the new one's files?

You: yeah.

King: [braces himself and sighs] alright let me see.

You: you're taking this news better than I thought you would. [hands him the files]

Queen & Jack: [huddle closer to get a look]

Jack: [sees the pictures] oh god

Queen: how does Crocodile look more dower as a child?

King: [holds up the pictures of the Moira and Doflamingo seraphim's] these two are my least favorite.

You: Parents aren't supposed to have favorites.

King: ugh, don't call me that, please.

Queen: would you prefer Papa?

King: [pushes him away by his face] shut up

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[pedge-page]

Another Joel dealing with a horomonal preggo reader, at the park:

Warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

- - - -

You always slip on your favorite pair of laced up sneakers when on the go, and today is no different. You and Joel had made a habit of taking a leisure walk through the local park on the weekends for the fresh air and enjoying each others company.

You gently lay a hand under your bulging tummy instinctually now as you prepare for your baby's delivery any week now. Joel notices your shoe comes untied, and ever the gentle man, offers to tie it up for you.

"No, Joel, I'm not a child. I dont NEED some man, I can tie my own shoes," you scoff coldly, detaching your hand from his.

He holds his hands up in surrender and watches:

At first you try to bend down as normal from the waist, but the bump prevents you from getting any closer to your shoes. Then you try to squat, but that proves useless too as you can't see past your swollen belly. You try several different ways-- bending, crouching, leaning, from one foot on the bench to almost doing a twister-crab walk pose on all fours, increasingly becoming frustrated with how neither your arms nor eyes could reach the culprit of all your problems in the world: the untied shoe lace.

You start huffing, eyes watering at how angry you're getting.

Yoy finally stand up straight and look dead ahead, and the tears start flowing like an avalanch as you tild your head back and wail into the sky.

Joel shakes his head, gets on a creaky knee and ties your shoes together, whispering praise to you and your belly "you did good my girl, I'll take it from here," and "Your body is doing miracles already," to get you to calm down as you make a giant scene in the busy park.

"I'm—sniffles—too—chokes—fucking—FAT!"

Joel is quick to comfort you: "No you're not, you're beautiful! You're growing our healthy beautiful baby in here, calm down, sweetie, no need to cry."

But you persist, ugly snot running down your nose as you stutter your inhales and heave your exhales. "I'm gonna— have a big f-fucking fat ass baby and h-h-h's g-gonna rip m-y fucking vagina apart!" you croak loudly, your hands unable wipe away the amount of tears blinding your eyes.

People turn their heads at your echoing voice and subsequent expletives carry over the open area—"And then —huff—my h-h-husband—that's you—won't l-love me any-m-more because I won't have—heave—have a tight s-sexy pussy ever again!" You wail, more ugly tears spilling as you scream the last part.

"Jesus," Joel says under his breath, desperately fumbling to get your shoes double knotted as quickly as possible. He's looking around and sheepishly smiling, waving off the nasty glares from a group of middle aged women joggers and parents covering their young childrens' ears as they walk by, shouting every curse and sexual thing that Joel apparently won't love about you anymore for all the world and God to hear.

He finishes the knot as you adjust to hyperventilating. "Okay okay, all fixed now see? How about we get some ice cream, yeah?" He says, rubbing your shoulders soothingly as he nods off everyone to go about their business again. He pauses quickly and stares back at you, realizing his potential fatal error. "Or—or not! We don't need to, if... if that makes you feel—" fatter.

You sniffles a bit more, rubbing your red swollen eyes before answering with a much more child-like, hushed tone, "N-no—I. I want, mmm, chocolate. Two scoops."

He plants a long kiss on your forehead before holding your hand to lead you to the ice cream cart.

Staying firmly planted, You quickly rip your hand away and shout, "JOOOEL!"

He doubles back, panic stricken over his entire body at the harsh, painful cry of his name. "What what is it?? What's wrong!? Tell me." His hands immediately cup around your belly, feeling for any signs of violent movement.

You meekly hold your foot up, barely balancing on one knee with the counter weight of your tummy. "S' too tight," you say softly, indicating the shoe he'd just spent an eternity trying to knot.

He tries to hide his sigh as he forces himself to one knee again in front of your dangling foot.

- - - -

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Permanent taglist: @harriedandharassed

[readychilledwine]

Pleasure

Warnings - period sex, praise kink, smut, NSFW

A/n - I accidentally deleted this request because I accidentally posted a just titled version of this instead of the whole thing, so @avidromancereader this is for you!

“Relax,” Cassian murmured into your skin as his fingers rubbed your clit in gentle circles below the water. Your back arched against his chest, a small whimper falling from your throat. “It's okay, babygirl. Let me take care of you.”

You knew this cycle was going to be hell the second she had knocked on your doorstep last week. Cramping, crying, refusing to allow Cassian to so much as look at you. No amount of prep had prepared you two of this, though. Between the stress of Rhysand coming home, the war, everything, you had thrown your already irregular cycle off, so this was your first in a long time.

Cassian had scented it the second he came into the room. He was kneeled at your side instantly as you curled up in child's pose hoping to stop the cramping in at least your back. He had gently picked you up, carrying you into the bathroom as the house filled the tub with warm water. He added your favorite jasmine and lilac oils onto the tub, hoping to relax you. 

And now you were here, his fingers circling that swollen and extra sensitive bundle of nerves, a deep baritone whispering praise in your ear. 

“Such a good girl,” he kissed above your ear. “Doing so good for me.” His fingers moved lower. “Want me to make you feel better, baby?” You nodded eagerly, arching against him again as a single finger pushed in. A wave of relief came down the bond instantly from you, striking him deep in his chest as Cassian worked you open with one finger, curling it every so often to just tickle that special spot that made you see you stars. He felt your body relax against him, muscles almost unlocking as you allowed your head to fall to the side. 

He slipped in a second finger, nerves shooting through your body as if he had just lit your soul on fire. 

“Cassian,” you panted out as he scissored, thrusted, and curled those thick rough digits in your soft smooth walls. “Oh Gods, Cass.” 

“Doing so good, baby. Taking my fingers so well. Can't wait to sit you on my cock and watch you ride me. You wanna do that princess? Ride your pain away?” He smirked into your shoulder as your moaning grew and your hips moved, riding his hand like it was a godsend. The end all be all to the discomfort and pressure you were feeling. “That's my good girl, taking what's hers.”

That coil in your stomach tightened more and more with each word from his mouth, with each curl of his fingers, with each soft kiss placed on your neck. You were on fire. Truly and fully on fire. Engulfed by the pleasure your your mate's calloused fingers and palm rubbing each nerve. 

“Cum for me, y/n," Cassian murmured gently into your skin. That was all it took, you came whimpering his name. “Such a good girl, y/n. There you go, baby.” He kept whispering to you, allowing you to ride out the High until you relaxed every more in his arms, and he removed his fingers.

The sharp pain in your lower stomach was now a dull ache as you turned into his lap, silently thanking Rhys for agreeing they all needed tubs big enough for themselves and their mates for this exact purpose. 

You pulled Cassian's face to yours, placing a heavy deep kiss on his lips while adjusting to straddle him. You felt him lining himself up, and then his freed second hand come to the curve of your hip to push you down. 

You threw your head back, moaning as each delicious inch stretched and stretched more, rubbing and hitting every sensitive spot inside of you. Cassian groaned loudly once he was fully seated inside of you, enjoying the extra warmth and tightness your cycle brought. He pulled your mouth back to his before both of his hands began  resting on your hips as he helped you start to bounce on his length. 

Cassian was always a vocal lover, groaning praise, moaning so you knew how good he felt, whimpering when he needed release. This time was no different. “Fuck baby,” his head fell back, exposing his throat and allowing you to suck soft bruises into his tanned skin. “Feel so good, so fucking tight. This pretty pussy was made for me. You feel that? Do you feel how perfectly we fit?”

You began bouncing faster, nails digging into his shoulder as your chased your highs. That spring had started to wind back up, heightened by your sensitivity and previous orgasm. “Cassian,” you chanted softly. “Fuck! Cassian! Please?”

He was moaning below you, mouth slightly opened in bliss, eyes squeezed shut as those large fingers began to dig so hard you knew bruises were forming. You felt your walls twitch at the sight. One of your hands snaking down to play with your clit as you rode him. 

He smirked at the sight of it, looking down to watch your cunt swallow every inch of him and your fingers play with his favorite bundle. “Look at you, baby. So fucking beautiful like this, all blissed out for me, whimpering like a pretty little mess. That cock feel good, baby?”

You nodded eagerly a breathy, “yes,” leaving your lips as his name became a mantra. Repeated over and over as that edge came right into sight. “Gonna cum for me again, princess? I'll right fucking there, baby.”  Cassian grabbed your hips harder, slamming you down on him and growling loudly as your moans became screams of pleasure.

Each thrust was aimed at your gspot, rocking it over and over until your blood felt like lava in your veins. 

Then that pressure popped. 

It was almost a second of silence between you two before you let out another loud scream of his name and he growled yours, biting down onto your neck, arms locking you in place as he sloppy thrust into you with each twitch of his release. 

You fell limp into his arms, the dull ache now temporarily gone as he stroked your hair, praising you for taking it so well, for riding him so well. 

“I love you,” you whispered into his neck. “Thank you for helping me.”

Cassian hummed, kissing your shoulder softly. “I love you too, y/n. Let's get you dried off and laying with a warm bottle, baby.”

[lifes-line]

DEFO DEFO TAZ SPOILERS

So one of my favorite taz aus is what I call "the replacement au" or the "Lup Au" which is basically what if it was Taako who died or went missing and it was Magnus, Merle, and Lup working for the BOB

In which case that poses a lot of questions for each arc so lemme tell you my theories on how it would've gone

Here they be gerblins:

Lup has always had a horrible ache in her heart. She wouldn't call it depression but no matters how hard she tries to move on and forget. She has always felt something painful and missing in her heart. Like someone ripped out a huge half of it and left her with the rest. She's had this feeling all her lonely life as a single child and no matter what magic she used on herself or how many people she surrounded herself with... she couldn't escape that feeling... Magnus and Merle somehow helped though. Being the absolute dumbasses they are.

Lup finds herself flirting with barry blue jeans and disappointed he wont be joining them later-

Lup sees Taako's skeleton/corpse and takes the wizard hat and his glave(or whatever his magical weapon he made during their year of artificing was)

She feels drawn to the phoenix fire gauntlet and she teases about putting it on alot(before phandalin goes to shit), she also gives it a high five but she isnt dumb enough to put it on and understands how dangerous it is and how devestating the events that follow are

Lunar interlude one

Lucretia is baffled to see lup having taako's things on but thats not important

im gonna say Lup gets pretty similar things to taako since they are the same class(just different schools of magic)

She doesn't fuck with leon as much as taako does but she still does of course

Murder on the rock port limited:

They get on the train without charm person but of course theyre still "not who they appear to be" as merle keeps loudly insisting they kill the ticket guy

Lup respects angus but they dont get close as he does with Taako so instead Angus gets closer with Magnus though Lup does offer to teach angus some magic lessons

Smokes that crab

Pretty much all of the taako things except she might be a lil less dramatic about the drink cart

Petals to the metal

Lup and hurley are bffs dont even trip

Lup defo found Sloane attractive but backed off when she found out she was taken

also found captain captain bane attractive

a quip of "My type are hardcore nerds with those obnoxious spectacles and sexy science facts"

Lup either picks a mongoose mask or goes with a phoenix I imagine

She would threaten the guards to get into the hammerhead base at first but then switch up to help out Merle's plan - or she'd just straight up kill the last guy and hit em with the "I forgot about that"

Since theres no way to absorb the arcane core she makes it explode and it works just as well

You can assume she has taakos position in the car ride, but most likely she cannot summon Garyl and instead klaarg comes in and saves merle and later her

Red robe shows up and shes the only one who fucking remembers the director telling them about them and she is the only one to insist they dont listen to him

but they do anyway and she gets majorly suspicious

Small lunar interlude:

Fuck Lucas but not fuck him but yknow

Oh yeah the red robe? "I want to let you know I am the only one who actually remembered we should've bounced"

Crystal Kingdom

Oooh transmutation relic not her thing

She cooks tho

Lucretia? "That's such a cute ass name, I'm gonna start calling you Lucy"

can i also have a red suit

that pink thing looks like salt

Also in consensus Lucas in fact a huge asshole.

Actually answers buddy bots question/riddles within the first two minutes

Yeah ill go into the elevator world? Oh no cockroaches? Yeah Lup makes fun of merle for liking cockroaches and then kills the one he missed.

They meet N03ll3 which is great and all but what do you mean you keep picking up lich activity

Go into Lucas's room cause Lup disguises self

Ok I dont know what a lich is why do you keep harassing me

Merle loses an arm oh fuck

Also gonna kill Lucas

fine lets learn some science

oh its that red bitch again - Lup is only not running because her boys wanna hear this too and also this lich is like weirdly flirting with her

"It's... Lup, where did you get that hat?" "Oh this? I took it off of some skeleton on our first adventure." "... oh my god.. you.. you found him... you..."

Weird I just made this lich who was flirting with me upset about my dope ass hat

YEAH SHES BEEN WEARING TAAKOS WIZARD HAT THIS WHOLE ASS TIME

skipping a bit woah oil can time

woah the crystal guy is back and instead of merle being the most dangerous its Luuuuuup? Whyyyyy????

"Wait haven't I seen you before?" He asks Lup and she tilts her head. The crystal shakes his head. "Nevermind. one second-"

Guys hes calling me a lich or possessed by one what do I do

Kick ass, Not tentacling dick ew, lucas there you are - woah magnus

Oh its the grim reaper, No we are not being shipped together-

Lore

"And you, Lup. Are still dead." "... Sorry what-" "You're dead?" "Nah I still got my hit points, I mean I'm bruised and bloody but I'm still alive." "Yeah is this maybe another Lup... or...?" "No. She's a lich. She is an undead entity that must be locked away in the eternal stockade." "How about fuck that (tries to kick his ass)"

More lore

YoU ATE THE WHAT

Oh hi kravitz, can you look pass this posession if I promise to have someone free me? And if this lich leaves me so im not a vessel anymore you can come get it, trust "... I.. I cannot let a lich get out of my sight." "Bro I cannot fight you anymore." "Well, it would be more dangerous if you died but you refuse to come peacefully." "I dont think Im a lich I just think im posessed - we've done a lot of crazy shit in our adventures-" bla bla bla fine its settled

We'll debrief in a sec ig here lemme uhh. i dont have transmutation its so over , just shape the damn stone and idk someone else can do magic right?

Debriefing oh yeah the red robe was there, yeah i lowkey dont really trust you, ok fine i can settle

They dont talk about the deaths to lucy in canon but after the debriefing Lup gathers the boys up and talks to them "Hey so you know how he called me an undead evil lich. so like... lets not tell the director and merle can you like perform an exorcism or something just to see if its true?" "Uh I have detective good and evil?" "Dope." And NOTHING HAPPENS BECAUSE LUP ISNT EVIL- but merle does detect some necromantic energy radiating off her whole being but he doesnt have like a spell to fix her so theyre like lets not worry about it rn

Lunar interlude

Alright angus this is magic, cooking? Why the fuck would i teach you how to cook

Ok you got me i grew up by myself in a lonesome life as a vendor but i didnt cook or anything I just spent my whole life doing side jobs and saving people. yeah fire is my speciality but like i wouldnt recommend it for you cause its literally fire. and youre a kid.

Whered I get the glave? A skeleton from a cave. He was wearing a red robe so lowkey maybe im possessed by his spirit but like... doubt.

Eleventh hour

I believe in you ango

woah we're here

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU FIGHTING THE WORMS LEAVE THEM ALONE THEYRE JUST BABIES

alright lets get this bread - bye avi - hello clay perosn. roswell? ok Wow that statue sure is red what the fuck

"This is bad.. this is a bad thing i did." Yeah I kept it.

Hi Cassidy im sure we can be besties

woah earthquake

Lets go in the inn, oh hello pretty elf lady, ok she doesnt care about me wdym you know magnus - guys wait dont make me talk to her alone

"Why do you live in a bubble?" "Lup." "WHAT?"

I wanna meet paloma fuck you guys

I will go to town on these scones, you need gold can I trade you anything else

I can hardly remember these goddamn loops so lets assume that lup and taako do alot of the same shit except she doesnt steal any of this shit -

Put him in a bubble... ok-

Hi Istus, What's this? Not a bag of holding? "This item... has the ability to bring back anyone from the dead, as long as they have been deceased for at least over a decade." "Oh this could be useful for all the guys you killed!" "Yeah!" "Well... you could save it too but... yes I suppose so?" "But only for over a decade." "Why the fuck is that so specific?" "STOP SWEARING IN FRONT OF CHRISTMAS" "ITS ISTUS"

Ok get that cup

Fuck you issak

WOAH ITS THE CUP BACKSTORY TIME; Besides the long periods of static and weirdly fuzzy childhood, Lup's biggest regret in her life? Well she didn't have anything really. She didn't put any of her skills to good use.. except once. She was performing her evocation magic for money and it got out of hand. She seriously injured an innocent person that resulted in their death. "Lup... that is your biggest regret. But it hasn't happened yet. If you claim me, we can go back and save that life. They would have never died. We can go back and save them."

thats the best i can do

Lup probably takes the longest to think this over because she cant handle the fact she murdered an innocent but Magnus's speak of "Tell me what happens if we dont do this" convinces her to stay

DONT KILL THE WORM YOU BITCHES, LISTEN TO JUNE

FREEDOM

Oh fuck its that red robe again - no we dont fucking trust you

"You don't... You don't trust me...?" He looks to Lup, and floats down to her level. Despite his occasional flattery and softness when he speaks to her, lowering himself and looking her in the eye pulls at something invisible in her heart. Something she hasn't felt in forever. "Lup...? You don't trust me?" "I don't even know you." The red robe whispers some more things and electricity flies off of him as he vanishes.

Hi Paloma oh a vision? "In your hour of greatest need, you will receive help from the forgotten one."

Ok back home - oh fuck IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER?

Lets fight? OK!

Lunar interlude

Date at the chug n squeeze? Wrong. Battle of the century. Almost.

Lup v Kravitz the two face off with Kravitz just trying to knock Lup out so he can safely transfer her into the astral plane without her dying

Lup, who doesnt think shes a lich, is just trying not to die.

They dont do this on the moon, they do this in neverwinter

IS THAT THE FUCKING RED ROBE?

As he saves you. As you're down you feel something phase through you as a red robe walks through your body and presents itself in front of Kravitz. He emits that same electricity off of his body and Kravitz looks baffled but only rifts a hole into the astral plane. "You're coming with me." As the battle is only beginning the red robe whispers to you, Lup; "Run."

PURCHASES THE RAGING FLAMING POISONING SWORD OF DOOM

Suffering game

Hey lucy, oh youre not fifty? Oh thats lowkey kind of fucked "Luckily as an elf i dont think i have to worry about that... sorry-"

Maggy where the fuck are you going

I feel like Lup would either follow magnus or magnus would defo ask Lup to help break out robi, so she does.

MAGNUS YOU FUCKING KILLED THEM-

Oh fuck get me out of here fighting these monsters

Lord artemis sterling and his bodyguards... cool.. ok

nvm lydia is hot

Ok this sucks

Lup gets the same sacrifices as Taako, so she takes the bad luck, shes fine with losing some life, hands? No Im not giving you my hand, fuck. MY APPEARENCE...? Yeah i dont care.

Chooses trust instead of forsake.

"Why should this person chose you?" "Uhh... Cause I'm hot as fuck." *applauds*

SAVES MAGNUS OFC - Oh is that the grim reaper? So Lup actually does try to save Kravitz cause lowkey she wants to be on good terms with him

Is that the red robe-

WE'RE TRUSTING HIM NOW????

her ghost looks ... weird.

Its nearly impossible to kill Edward, except when he's a lich. So. That's actually when Lup gets an idea. And she dies. Like full on explodes herself.

LICH LUP WOOOOOO

As soon as Lup is free from her body, her very very death and actually burning corpse. Everything hits her very slowly and soon all at once. So instead of killing edward immediately Lup instantly panics and starts to lose her cool... until "Lup?" She hears Barry's voice. It's not her anchor but it's enough to remind her of the situation at hand.

Lup destroys edward, so lydia destroys magnus's body

As Magnus sees Lup's liches form he isn't surprised, because he remembers when Lup sat down and told them all(?) about her and ... somebody's decision to become a lich... WAIT WHAT

Lup demands more answers from Barry and Magnus does the same, Barry is more sweet about it to Lup than Magnus

Merle is looking at Lup and Barry with upmost confusion and WHAT IS GOING ON????

To Barry's cave! Hey why is there two pods here

"So... I'm really glad actually, Lup, that you're here. And you're back... and as much as i wanna stop the end of the world to kiss you... We gotta move. We both saved what we could from our corporeal forms - mine is a bit more fresh but yours is back from the [starblaster]... so ... I actually don't know what you'll remember but youre gonna need it if we wanna get back on that moon base and confront Lucretia."

Merle can't hear anything and he is so confused, Magnus can understand this all and contiens demanding answers- before they both enter the tank, Magnus gets Lup's outfit while Merle pulls out deniem blue jeans AND WAIT BARRY AS IN BARRY BLUE JEANS?? beFORE THEY DO THIS

Lup looks to Barry and asks where Taako is. The name sounds familiar to Magnus, but his head is splitting in two before he can remember such a person. Barry can't bring himself to reply so he simply tells Lup he isn't sure but he doesn't have high hopes.

As they both go into their own tanks, Barry doesnt know anybody or anything. Lup steps out and she throws on her outfit and demands answers from magnus and merle of what happened after she died. "Am I a lich? Am I posessed? IS THAT BARRY?" And why is barry still so goddamn attractive?

Barry looks at Lup like shes the love of his life and actually starts being timid and nervous around her

Magnus tries explaining but once its all static the idea of another void fish comes to mind... PLANNING

BACK TO THE MOON BASE

heres the relic, magnus is dead, fuck you.

Oh hi angus, the truth? uhhhh i guess we can tell you oh is that zone of truth. dammit barry-

SECOND VOID FISH?

Oh my god........ my brother is dead. Taako is dead.

Hi Lucy, "I'm gonna fucking kill you now." But Barry holds Lup back as her fire wall is pathetic against her shield.

"I'm so sorry Lup but.. the pain was too unbearable. Taako.. Taako is gone. And he's not coming back."

Story and Song

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT-

As all hope seems lost after Lup remembers the other half of her heart, Barry and Lup are refusing to die because they cant be liches forever. They dont have anything to go back to-

She remembers Paloma's prophecy, and Istus's gift. It's a simple ritual - a simple spell and only thinking of her brother she casts it. And Lup almost loses it again when nothing happens.

It takes too much but Lucretia is the one who channels a spell to crush these beats in their own shield before she vanishes. ANd now we gotta do other shit yay

Lup and Barry and sent to find the ship but she can't bring herself to do so... "I... I know we're supposed to save the world and everything Barry but... but what's the point... without Taako here with us?"

Barry does what he can to comfort his fiance before he notices the sphere of black glass. "Listen.. do you remember in lucas's lab when we was going over everything?" "Ye.. yeah?" Barry takes a breath to elaborate but Lup cuts him off. "Barry you know transumtation isn't my school of magic." "I know but..." He points to the glave she's holding. "It's his."

And with that they feather fall down and give it a try.

While Barry begins to fight for his life - with the help of Lucas who joins them, Lup continuously tries and fails to open this portal. She slams her head against her own creation and curses Taako for not being here. How is she supposed to go on when Taako is gone? And she didn't even get to grieve? Or say goodbye? And why did Istus lie to her?

And then a rift in space opens. And there he is. Taako appears in his red robe without his hat or his weapon. Lup feels a hand on her shoulder suddenly as she hears her brother's voice say "Don't worry Lulu, I have magical powers." And when he touches his weapon to the sphere it's like an explosion goes off.

"Taako! Where'd you open that portal to?!" "The Astral Plane."

When Lup sees Kravitz (and he looks fucking awful.) behind him she suddenly flips out; "ARE YOU DATING THE GRIM REAPER?" "SHUT UP"

But it doesn't last long before Lup embraces Taako tightly.

TAAKO ONLY CAME BACK BECAUSE MEREL RECONNECTED WITH THE GODS BTW SO ISTUS COULDNT HOLD UP HER END OF THE DEAL UNTIL SHE WAS BACK-

OK SHIP TIME WE GET TOGETHER EVERYONE IS PISSED AT LUCRETIA BUT as theyre discussing the science behind it she suddenly offers, looking at the tres horny boys briefly that there is a third option. Thanks Paloma.

Taako stays on the plane to fight while Lup, sure she wont lose him again, kicks the hungers ass.

Epilogue, everything is pretty much the same because lup doesnt wanna run a school for magic and now that taako was apparently routing for lup in the astral plane the whole time shes off the hook

THE END YAYAYAYA

EDIT I KNOW I HAVE MORE WOOHOO:

Why does Taako die? Why does he care?

Well, Taako knew he couldn't just rely on a dance to cheer up Lup - so Taako decided he was going to do something good and destroy his sister's relic. Obviously he can resist the temptation but Cyrus Rockseeker does not. Taako blasts him with his glave(or clave or whatever) into the safe but ultimately dies.

We then we Taako wake up in the astral plane, behind the bars of the eternal stockade where a skeleton stands before him checking off a list. He says something in a cockney accent along the lines of "Finally, I've been lookin' for you."

"Crazy accent you go there Ghostrider, where am I?" "You're in the Astral Plane, Taako. Finally. You wouldn't happen to know where your others friends are? They're supposed to be locked up in here with you."

"... What-"

AND OVER THE TIME TAAKO SUCCESSFULLY FLIRTS AND SEDUCES KRAVITZ ESP POST CRYSTAL KINGDOM ARC AND THATS WHY THEYRE DATING NOW OK COOL-

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

Now that submissions are closed, we can talk stats. There were 881 valid, unique submissions for 474 characters! Woof, women have it rough out there!

The most submitted characters, with a relevant propaganda snippet included, are:

1. Sakura Haruno (Naruto): 28 [where do i even fucking begin]

2. Cordelia Chase (Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel): 21 [OH SO MANY THINGS]

3. Misa Amane (Death Note): 20 [The author of Death Note invented new forms of misogyny just to apply them to Misa.]

4. Kaede Akamatsu (Danganronpa V3): 15 [Oh, you thought we would have a female main character in one of our mainline games? With a cool defining talent, no less? That's stupid of you]

5. TIE: Kairi (Kingdom Hearts): 14 [I'm so mad. I think she deserves a gun.]

5. TIE: Stephanie Brown (DC Comics): 14 [She does eventually get retconned as surviving the event and hiding out in Africa (don't ask, it does not make more sense in context)]

The canons with the most submissions, with a relevant propaganda snippet included, are:

1. DC Comics: 61 [DC has SO MUCH sexism it's laughable]

2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel: 35 [Fuck Joss Whedon, man.]

3. Naruto: 33 [because Kishimoto hates women]

4. Warrior Cats: 26 [Warriors is one of the most misogynistic children's series I've ever seen]

5. Danganronpa: 25 [I honestly had to think about it just to decide which woman is treated the worst because this series hates them so much]

The canons with the most characters submitted, with a relevant propaganda snippet for a specific character included, are:

1. DC Comics: 21 [Free her from the huge tits back breaking pose.]

2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel: 12 [Anyways she was so hot and for what. 10/10 my lesbian awakening.]

3. Supernatural: 11 [Yeah, she got randomly killed off-screen for shock value and manpain, but she sent an email right before she died so at least her death wasn't in vain, right?]

4. TIE: Star Trek: 9 [She literally gets teleported out of her clothes in one episode.]

4. TIE: Yu-Gi-Oh!: 9 [One loss is particularly brutal as she falls from a large height directly onto her head and goes into a coma (again. yes this was the second time).]

5. TIE: Warrior Cats: 8 [I'm sure she'll get submitted again just ask any reasonable fan they'll tell you about her and her sister]

5. TIE: Attack on Titan: 8 [As a child soldier, she does commit some war crimes]

And here are some charts to show how some of these entries fucked the scale on my charts:

Look at Sakura, fucking up my chart with her numbers.

On a similar note...

Good god, DC, I know what you did, but add fucking up my charts to your list of crimes.

And now, enjoy some rankings of my favorite things:

My favorite universal sentiment quotes from propaganda are:

She lived she served cunt and then she got killed off super early so that the male characters could experience man pain and also because I guess she would have been too powerful if left alive. [Wen Qing (Mo Dao Zu Shi)]

That design. Dear god. I don't want to live on this planet anymore. [Mitzi (The Queen's Corgi)]

In the end she may have girlbossed too close to the sun, but I support her anger. [Ling Wen (Heaven Official's Blessing)]

the victim of “writer doesn’t understand women and also hates them” disease. [Naomi Misora (Death Note)]

She could 100% kill somebody but nobody ever effing lets her. Rip queen. [Kairi (Kingdom Hearts)]

My favorite raging at a writer quotes from propaganda are:

1. You took every single protagonist to weird lion heaven, Clive, but suddenly Susan isn't good enough. [Susan Pevensie (The Chronicles of Narnia)]

2. Being a woman written by Joss Whedon should automatically entitle her to financial compensation tbh. [River Tam (Firefly)]

3. A lot can be summed up in a couple words, namely, "Furman, why?" [Arcee (Transformers)]

4. Can you tell respect women juice ran in Tolstoy's veins. [Lise Bolkonskaya (War and Peace)]

5. TIE: (specifically a guy called Dan Didio, who we all hate) [Stephanie Brown (DC Comics)]

5. TIE: until Geoff motherfucking Johns comes into the picture [Pantha (DC Comics)]

My favorite quotes from propaganda that have nothing to do with misogyny, y'all are just funny:

I wish I could use bold here, because there's no such thing as uppercase numbers. [Arcee (Transformers)]

the most convoluted and lore dense piece of media this side of the afton criticality. [Jane Crocker (Homestuck)]

ended up starting a gang war by accident [Stephanie Brown (DC Comics)]

Ashfur, who later turns out to be a murderous incel [Squirrelflight (Warrior Cats)]

Hawkfrost is actively seeing Brambleclaw and his evil father in cat hell. [Squirrelflight (Warrior Cats)]

[fandomtrash-whataboutit]

Fairy Tail Freed Justine Thesis

This is where I go rlly into headcanon, but bare with me

Backstory. Part 3 (of ???)

As far as I’m aware, there is little to no information provided on Freed’s backstory. In fact, the same is true for Bixlow, Evergreen, and even Laxus himself to an extent.

Hahaha guess who read the spinoff story about the thunder legion which includes information about how the thunder legion came to be after drafting this post?? I hate everything. But academia waits for no man!

So I will start by explaining what info I want to bring to your attention:

Freed uses forbidden magic

Freed uses some form of demonic/demonic adjacent magic

Freed is extremely knowledgeable about magic as a subject, about the history and function of a wide variety of magics

Freed has spells including causing extreme physical pain, mental anguish, and instant death a.k.a. He uses very brutal magic.

He is a very formal, strict person

He is intensely loyal to the guild and has an equally intense loyalty to Laxus

He formed a team with Bixlow and Ever, but was quickly endeared to Laxus when they met

He started by challenging Laxus

Everything here is Pre-Thunder Gods, but is a significant part of my personal Freed insanity, so it stays in:

As one does with their favorite character, I like to imagine Freed is deeply traumatized. However I’ll start with some simpler stuff. The funny thing about the headcanon backstories of side characters in FT is that for several there needs to be some way to justify them going to a guild as a child. From the flashbacks, I consider that Laxus got especially angry and at odds with Makarov in his latter teenage years. I believe he would have to become friends with Freed before this, because at that point he would be extremely closed off and antagonistic. I say all of this because i believe it is canon that Makarov encouraged Freed to befriend Laxus. So here it is:

I have a couple of different ideas that never made it into full fics, but here are the more realistic basics. I come back to cults a lot, because it is easier justification for general demons and evil magic, but any sort of malicious group suffices. For any cult, you can have him born into it, but my original idea had him kidnapped as a child. Either way, it centers around child experimentation, mostly because of the demon aspect. I built a sort of world wherein demons are rare, because demonic gates are randomly created, so demons can’t cross over into the world FT is set in very often (considering ‘Demons from the Books of Zeref’ are labeled as such, I assume there are naturally created by some method). From here I have a couple of theories.

One could be a cult or malicious group find some way to open gates, but obviously can not fully do so, mixing in the concepts of demonic possession and hosts. For this one, I fooled around with the idea that children are easier hosts, because young children can not pose the mental opposition from a foreign entity trying to take over the body that a fully grown adult. However, children’s bodies likely could not handle demonic possession for very long, and deteriorate rapidly. In Freed’s case, he was a child with very strong magic potential but there was a second, very important factor: he got lucky. If we are operating under the function that demons are their own species in their own world, then they are not all ‘evil’. Any fully sentient species (ya know at a human’s level of awareness) does not only contain the capacity for evil, especially among hundred of millions or billions of members of the species. They might see humans like dogs, because the average human is def weaker than the average demon. But most humans have varying empathy for dogs. The demon that possessed Freed was not interested in slowly, brutally slaughtering a child for the sake of a chance to run amok among humans. And then the magic counsel, with the help of various wizard guilds, finally raid the malicious group, and there is a wild battle. Among the bodies and skeletons, Makarov Dreyer finds one living boy, curled in on himself, surrounded by felled guards. The boy’s magic is clearly out of control and very strong, which is how Makarov gets the government to release the boy into his custody.

That is the most thought out one, but the main points are the same. You have some malicious group, child experimentation, lone (or one of few) survivor Freed, out of control magic, and Makarov (or Gildarts in some cases). I believe his behavior and personality as well as childhood friendship with Laxus suggest that he came from a difficult place. If he joined the guild in his tween years, then he likely had magic already (who in FT could teach him that anyway) and there must be some explanation from where his insane magic comes from.

New Thoughts

I think it is super interesting that Freed formed the team, but it gives insane extroverts adopting introverts. You think Freed initiate that social interaction? Nah it’s just that once he became comfortable enough he could not in good conscience allow the combined might of Ever and Bix to make decisions. However this does do a couple of important things for me. I do think my important timeline point of Freed becoming friends with Laxus before all the really bad arguing with his grandfather began. Bc yes Laxus was pissy in that scene but that was normal teenaged pissy, if he was full asshole mode he wouldn’t have complimented them right after. Or started teaming with them. I really like the idea of borderline empath Bix, like he can just read people. And when you think about it, Bix absolutely saw wet cat teen Freed and was like ‘oh hell yea, mine now’. I hadn’t thought about the thunder legion as a team forming independently of Laxus, but I really adore that.

[cartoon-buffoon]

Here's a Cartoon Cat' fanfic idk if I'll post on my AO3 so semi-exclusive story, btw this is inspired by my favorite stories of all time and a song. If you can somehow guess which story and which song you get a gold star for doing a goods.

TW for: gore and body horror

Reruns

Throughout all of time it had gone long undisturbed. What lurked behind a friendly cartoon cat's smile was a nothing more than sinister force that loved to indulge in the fear and havoc it could wreck. With powers beyond mortal comprehension it had no competition, it reigned supreme at the top of the food chain with not one to challenge it. Using these powers it was at first content with the simple disappearances that it would make, people here and there who went down dark alleys, abandoned crossroads, desolate malls, old warehouses, all of them suddenly vanishing without a trace. Picking people off, dragging them away screaming, and torturing them while it ripped them apart was fun but eventually that grew boring for the faux feline. It craved more, more and more which it consumed and caused chaos. Soon entire neighborhoods vanished, bloodstains and body parts laying in homes where the residents should be. From neighborhoods it advanced to entire towns, thousands gone just like that. Towns turned to cities, cities turned to counties, counties to states, states to regions, by the time an entire area suddenly went dead a mass hysteria infected the world. Mortals assumed the apocalypse was upon them and they'd be right, once its presence was known it need not hide anymore.

That was the fun part for it, once everybody knew of the Cartoon Cat as something more than just urban legend or myth it grew bold. Dashing through streets and populated areas it grew hands and arms out of its back in order to snatch man, women, child, animal, all that crossed its path in order to shove them down its gullet. At one point it even ceased to feed, it opted to just bite down on the skulls of its prey popping their heads sending skull fragments and blood across the pavement only to discard the rest of the bodies like trash. It didn't need food anymore, it merely killed for the sport and thrill of it, thrill of seeing the vain attempts to run or fight, it's absolute favorite was when it couldn't spot anybody out in the open. That's where the real game began. With the mortals getting smart they hid to the best of their abilities, trying not to be found and maybe outlast this entity posing as a black cat that made mincemeat out of the people they knew. One by one over the span of only a few years all their hopes and dreams were crushed though, each who hid was found with the Cartoon Cat spending extra time to make their deaths as painful as possible, a sort of reward for making the game just so entertaining. Like all things though the game had to come to an end, with no more mortals or animals the world fell into ruin. With the mortal's death soon the other cryptids who stalked the earth died out, without life to feed from they starved and perished. With no mortals left, no games to play, no fear to strike into people, the same too was happening to the Cartoon Cat. It was the very things it killed that kept it intact, its demented existence was kept alive by those who acknowledged its existence.

At the end of all there was naught to do but be consumed by the hollow rot and bloodlust that he used to consume the mortals.

It sat on where it originally called home, the abandoned mall which it used to lurk. With all humans gone nature had reclaimed it as well as most of the rest of earth. Vines creeped up the side and trees sprouted from the foundation, gazing at a setting sun the Cartoon Cat couldn't help but find irony in the one thing having the last laugh and outliving it was the very ground it walked on. The ground it smeared with the blood of billions. Alas it wasn't completely alone though, after all while most cryptids did rely on a food source there were creatures like it who either held a purpose or relied on belief to keep them alive. While not all of them were extra dimensional the mortals roughly classified those they deemed otherworldly or alien as "Patron Saints", while The Cartoon Cat itself was deprived of such a title for being "too evil" that didn't stop them from grouping it in with the rest. It was one of those who it was grouped in with which showed up as its time was nearing the end. The patron saint of guiding lost souls and a bearer of warning decided to pay the thing who ruined the lives of the mortals it tried to warn a visit, the Long Horse as it was aptly named. Its neverending infinite neck climbed up the building and it held its head up beside The Cartoon Cat, staring at it with its empty sockets.

This sure was a surprise to the cat, it was acquainted with the skull headed creature but it could hardly call it a friend. The Long Horse spent a good deal of its existence warning the mortals of The Cartoon Cat, but now there was no one left to warn. They were polar opposites but in the end it didn't really matter, nothing mattered considering they were both dying. The feline glanced at the creature out of the corner of its eye and saw this clear as day. Fractures and cracks had accumulated onto its skull, its spine that held up its skull looked brittle like the smallest bit of force could break the bone. The cat contemplated doing this, ending the thing that would ruin its meals here and now, but there would be no satisfaction in it, no fight to justify the kill, besides time would soon rapture them itself.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything"

The age old proverb of misery coming in 3s proved right. An uninvited guest made his presence known as he walked up to the two other cryptids, the individual in question being the patron saint of havoc and disaster. Negativity itself embodied into the form of a sharply dressed man with his face twisted upside down. His tone was smug and while the two showed signs of rot the man with the upside down face showed no signs of being affected, although his time on earth as it stood was too coming to an end. Despite this his tone was smug, seeing the two once powerful creatures weak before him made him absolutely giddy.

"Pardon my lateness I was checking up on the others, safe to say it's just us three left: the maggots lurking in underpasses all shriveled up and died, beak-face offed himself by ripping out his halo to open a gateway for his followers to only-he-knows, roady passed away in some animal graveyard, the big fella and his spawn huddled up before they faded, heck even that ol' siren's flesh rusted right off his bone" the man's twisted smile grew wider, the taste of their death's fresh on his tongue "oh you should of been there! I'm sure you would of loved to see it"

The Cartoon Cat remained silent, still staring out at the sunset. It didn't have words to spare, certainly none to that upside down headed bottom feeding leech.

This silence provoked the man to take another step forward, his shoes clacking against the mall's roof "oh come on, do you really got nothing for me smiley? Don't tell me you're scared of death now" the man's eyes fixated on the cat, trying to garner any sort of reaction as he spoke "I guess that's why they call you a pussycat for a reason"

If it was a reaction the man wanted it would be a reaction he would get. Even in its rotting state the Cartoon Cat held enough power to wipe that smile off the man's face. Turning to face him it bared stained teeth, its gums leaking blood from its maw.

It was at this point the Long Horse intervened, stretching in-between the two it acted as a barrier as both of its sockets on the side of its skull bore into the two cryptids.

"Oh come on skelly, don't you see this entire thing is his fault, what's he got to cry over?" The man with the upside down face brought a hand up to his mouth, trying to cover his mouth as he snickered "oh it just drives me WILD how much I can feel your pity for smiley over there! Even as you're about to die you hold no anger or rage towards the very thing that brought us all to our doom, it's comical really..."

The Cartoon Cat's flesh began to droop off its form as it stood and turned to face the man with his face upside down. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air and it hunched over, ready to strike at the patron saint who was trying to get a last meal out of both their emotions.

"Look at you" The man continued "Standing there with your sickly looking self, I do got to hand it to you though, I'm surprised your body hasn't caved in on itself yet, you using the last bit of power you have to stay awake?"

The Long Horse extended itself further into the air, its spine creaking and cracking in a way no bone should. Although it remained silent a strong gust of wind blew across the area making the man's tie flutter. It was a warning.

"hehehe...." The warning was met with laughter, the man was absolutely reveling in the moment and ignored Long Horse, looking over across towards the decaying cryptid "I thought you were stronger than this, are you really having the pacifist stand up for you? This is a new low for you truly-"

The wind picked up, the breeze growing stronger with each word the man said.

"Maybe if you used your brain instead of your stomach you'd realize this would be the end goal of your little massacre, but you didn't ever think of that did you? Instead all you thought about was satisfying that unquenchable thirst to kill but now you left yourself, and everyone high and dry, a desert without an oasis"

Gusts of air tried to drown out what the man with the upside down face was saying, but he knew all too well the cat could hear him. He continued, his tone more condescending by the second.

"Acting as if you deserve anything else other than this, you've reaped what you've sowed and that's the souls of all you saw, I may be throwing stones in a glass house here yet it takes one to know one which is why I can safely say you're nothing but a sad little speck from the void who wanted to hide behind some fake face in order to turn this world into your little playground"

"ENOUGH"

The Long Horse's voice echoed throughout the air, traveling on the wind as it fell onto the man and cat's ears. The deep, hoarse tone made the mall shake and the man go silent, although a pacifist and a creature of benevolence it had grown fed up with the mockery. What came around went around, karma physically manifesting as blood the man puked up.

Falling to his knees the man spoke through grit teeth, his smile morphing into a scowl "I see the truth isn't very welcome here, fine then" he stood up and fixed his tie "I'll be off now since I'm clearly unwanted, I hope that little stunt of yours was worth it skelly seeing as you don't got much life left in you" walking away the man couldn't help but get the last laugh in, taking a quick glance back at the rotting feline he uttered his words of departure "after everything is said and done I look forward to seeing you in the abyss... if we don't forget ourselves that is, until next time Cartoon Cat". The man's words were laced with venom, mocking the name that the cryptid chose for itself.

With that he was gone, vanishing into thin air leaving the only other two cryptids alive behind.

The two soon becoming one, The Long Horse's borrowed time was all spent up hurting the man with the upside down face. The cracks on it deepened and its spine turned to dust, its skull landing right in the hands of the Cartoon Cat.

The Cartoon Cat stared at the patron saint that lay in its palms, the horse's body and connection to the earth severed. It didn't know whether the creature was still alive or if the skull was merely the remains of that wish used to plague it, either way it couldn't help but embrace the skull. The cat's body was and time was coming to an end, the form it took destabilizing. Ovular pupils struggled to maintain their shape, they dilated growing wider and wider until the sclera was consumed by the pupil, eyes now pure white. With blurred vision the Cartoon Cat couldn't see the body it had made for itself, but maybe that was for the better because it sure could feel it. Blood and pus oozed out of every orifice on its body, mouth, eyes, even the pores that lined its body soon secreted a foul smelling combination of liquid that signified its decay. The skin it had started to sag off molded bones, its face particularly coming undone revealing the hideous visage of what truly lurked behind the mask. Not one would be left to view it though, instead all that there would be was silence. While it still had time left and the sounds of death dripped off his form it's mind began to ponder what it could of done differently.

It was too late now but it still wondered out of curiosity, perhaps the curiosity could have saved it if it ever considered the different options. Maybe it could have existed as a purely fear based entity, instead of downright killing mortals it could have given them a good scare, feed off that fear. Another idea was instead of killing humans directly it could have taken a page of that leech's book and be an omen that would cause disasters, toppling over skyscrapers or collapsing bridges, killing people that way. Maybe malice wasn't the road, maybe it could have avoided its current predicament if it was a bit more kind to the mortals it so eagerly killed. It could have been one of the few cryptids revered as something good, a savior to humanity, a patron saint which lived up to its name. Helping mortals advance, defending them against other entities that wished to feed off them. It could have gained just as much if not more attention by being kind to the mortals, instead of latching onto their nostalgia and using its form to harm it could have been a proper cartoon cat using their positive emotions rather than the negative ones to maintain on earth. All those ideas passed through its mind but it couldn't help but feel that no matter what it did the ending would be the same, even if given a second chance to repent it's body would still be melting into a putrid pile of meat. As its senses dulled and it could no longer feel the Long Horse's skull in its hands it knew death had come for it, or at least for its body that it inhabited.

Death or the death of its body was cold, not frigid but cold nonetheless, the feeling was almost familiar in a way. Despite its body finally rotting and its eyes closing for what would be the final time somehow it maintained its senses. It could still smell, hear, see, feel, taste, but all of them were numbed to the point it couldn't pick up on anything exact. What it could see though was an ever expanding black that stretched out for miles, a complete and utter void with nothing but itself alone in it, alone with a deafening silence. It wondered if this is truly where it came from, it had been so many years since it fashioned that form for itself that it had forgotten what the abyss was like, was this where it originated from? It doubted it strongly, although an abyss would be an apt description of what it saw it knew whatever it was in wasn't that. It still clung onto the memories of who it was instead of having all that stripped away, it was in a weird in-between. A limbo, a line where neither death nor life treaded, where time meant nothing and space was but a mere concept. Of course the only other thing was the silence, the silence which allowed it to be alone with its thoughts for what would be an eternity.

Or at least, that's what it assumed.

No, by some miracle it seemed this wouldn't be all that existence had in store for it. A voice broke through the silence and drew its attention, what would have been death was interrupted by the unsure words of man. A man who sounded confused and scared, an all to mortal emotion.

"Hello? Anybody here?"

Its eyes opened back up to find not its body rotten and diseased but instead perfectly intact. Yellow eyes glowed in the dark allowing it to see everything in clear view, the scenery was that of its mall before nature took over, before its global massacre. Down the hall shined what one could only assume was a flashlight of someone intruding on the space it took shelter in. It didn't know how, why, but it nonetheless knew that in some way it was brought back to either before its giant mistake or to a new world entirely. That didn't matter though, what mattered was doing something different this time around. Standing up and letting its long body graze the ceiling it emerged from its corner and towards the mortal. All those ideas that had ran through its head while it died were quickly forgotten, one idea prevailing among them.

"Huh? What's that?"

A grin formed across its face going from ear to ear. The end would be the same now matter what it did, so as it stepped into the light it knew what it would do instead.

"Wha-... What the fuck..."

With a newfound appreciation for the mortals it hunted it would take time this run around. After all this run wouldn't be that different, bones would break, skin ripped clean off, tears of those who begged for mercy would fall on the ground.

"Oh god... OH GOD!"

As it lunged forward ready to make the mortal suffer it knew the exact process this time around. It would savor each and every kill it came across, prolonging and allowing the mortals to eventually kill themselves off while it would take a singular one each time it pleased, drawing out their suffering as much as possible. It would savor the kill instead of letting greed force its hand to slaughter everything. After all, it was just one big rerun…

A rerun of its favorite episode.

[lavenderplushie]

hiya, lovebugs!

todays post will be about how to stay comfy during your period! periods can be painful and scary, especially when you’re small. so here are some tips i find helpful!

fruits + veggies

-> fresh fruits/veg are great on your period! they help you hydrate, and are full of good nutrients. leafy greens like spinach, kale, broccoli, etc. and fruits like berries, bananas, oranges, etc.

avoid

-> try to refrain from caffeine, oil, red meat, spicy foods, and excess sugar. a little is okay, but these types of things specifically can make your cramps worse. and mood, due to hormone imbalances! so be mindful.

but also keep in mind that food is fuel. dont stress too much about what youre eating, especially during your period. keep the aforementioned tips in mind but it’s okay to stray from them.

stretching

-> exercise and yoga are so good! my favorites are child’s pose, cat-cow, and the reclining twist. i also like laying flat on my back with both knees to my chest, breathing deeply.

stretching can help alleviate pain and assist in blood flow to keep your body relaxed.

body position

-> the best way to lay is on your back, side, or fetal position. these take pressure away from your abdomen and prevents leakage. it also can alleviate muscle pain in your back + shoulders.

with a heating pad, laying down in the fetal position is absolute paradise for me during a painful period.

distraction

-> colouring, playing with stuffies/toys, watching your comfort media, etc. are always nice. when youre feeling icky or in pain, these are a life saver! find joy where you can.

hydration

-> water, water, water! if nothing else, please stay hydrated. it helps prevent headaches, cramps, dizziness, fatigue, and more!

eating fruits/veggies as mentioned before is a great way to keep hydrated. adding flavoring to water is good, too, if you don’t like the taste of it alone.

self-care!

-> most importantly, keep in mind what you need. this is a time to be mindful of what you want + need.

you are important. your health is important. your happiness is important!

do what is best for your mind and body. you know yourself better than anyone else.

love you, bugs! 💚⭐️🌸

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (Lucemond, based on the kdrama "Fanletter, Please")

Lucerys was a popular figure skater, who used to compete in pair figure skating as a child, but soon entered into single figure skating, aiming to earn the golden medal for Driftmark in the Winter Olympic games. Unfortunately for him, he only got silver, and though his family reassured him that it was alright, that he did his best, that there was always next year, he still felt extremely self-conscious and all his insecurities just kept coming back.

He then received a massive amount of hate letters mixed with his fan letters, calling him a loser, saying he didn't even deserve the silver, let alone gold, that he should stop embarrassing the people of Driftmark and just leave figure skating permanently. He received so many letters calling him a nepo-baby, that he would never have been chosen to present them had he not been the grandchildren of Rhaenys and Corlys Velaryon, had he not been the son of the Realm's Delight. Every single letter fed his already growing insecurities, and reading every single one of them just stabbed him in the heart, making him sink deeper into the abyss of self-doubt and self-deprecation.

Soon, he couldn't even hold a letter, even those not addressed to him, without having a panic attack. Jace took all the letters away and made a public statement that Lucerys would be having his personal training, and asked fans to stop sending letters so he could concentrate.

Soon, Lucerys got his confidence back, though it was a slow, painful progress. He could hold letters now, but reading them would trigger his panic attacks, so much so that he continued to ignore every letter he received from fans.

Aemond, his ex partner, who, upon hearing his step-sister's worries through his mother, decided to do something about it.

When Lucerys entered his apartment, he was shocked to find the entire place filled with stuffed Arraxes, his favorite dragon character. There were different models in different sizes and poses, some larger than his torso, some with wings stretched to take flight, and some with cat-like poses, and he loved each and every one of them.

He took one of Arraxes (the one that sat like a dog) and hugged it, and was shocked to hear a very familiar voice he hadn't heard from in a long time (not since the "Driftmark Accident" where they tried a difficult stunt despite the warning from both parents, ending with Lucerys in crutches and Aemond missing an eye).

It took him a moment to realize he was reading something. A letter. A Fanletter. He paused it, fearing that a panic attack my start again, but it didn't. And he was curious. So he hugged Arrax, and the message continued.

It was from a child, seven years old, praising him for not giving up, telling him that he inspired him to learn how to figure skate. It was so childish and sweet, and it brought tears in Lucerys' eyes. How he missed that. The encouragement outside of his family, one born to support and cheer him on.

It didn't take him long to realize that all the stuffed Arrax had voice recordings. Aemond added his own spin in some of them, horrible and hilarious, as he tries to read them in different pitches and different styles. He added side comments of his own, which took Lucerys back to fonder times, where he and Aemond were up against the world.

The letters gave him the encouragement he craved and needed. He pushed himself harder, trained so much Jace had to physically pull him out of the rink.

Eventually, he decided to try and write back. His hands were shaking as he wrote, but after a few tries, he managed to have full control of his hand. He thanked them, showed his sincerity, told them he would do his best next Winter Olympics, asked them to continue to cheer him on.

Soon, he heard every single message from the stuffed Arrax, responded to every one, except for the last message. He could tell it would be different, because instead of Arrax, it was a stuffed Vhagar, Aemond's favorite dragon character.

In Vhagar was a message, but not from his fans. It was a voice letter from Aemond, telling him that he shouldn't ignore those who support him in fear of those who don't. That he should hold his head tall, that he's done what it took to get to where he was now. That he was proud of little Luke, who rose to the occasion.

When Lucerys entered the rink, it was like he was a different person. The scared, insecure little boy was gone, and there on that rink, was a young man, confident in his craft, in himself.

No one was surprised when he was given the golden medal. They were surprised when he dedicated it to his ex-figure skating pair, Aemond.

After his victory, photos surfaced of him and Aemond dancing in the rink once more.

---------

It needed to be done.

I couldn't keep it to myself. I'm weak to my own fantasies!

Thoughts? Violent reactions?

[concert-bflat]

I suddenly got hit with Kano Brainworms and now I have this Completely Unorganized post and it's gonna be your guys' problems now !! Just saying there is no flow to this whatsoever I just slapped all my points on and called it a day

Just. god I will Never stop thinking about the Tateyama siblings relationship with their younger selves and changing and growing and learning to accept themselves and Kano's. Not doing that. Remaining stagnant.

Like it's Everywhere . (Unfortunately it's been Sooo long since I've read light novel 5 so I don't have any sources to pull from there but I'm sure there's a ton okay)

Yobanashi Decieve is spent tearing down Kano's layers throughout the entire song and what do you find at the end? When he finally admits that he hates all this? Hates himself? What do you find at the center of the Kano Onion? His crying child self. At his core he still believes he is that crying boy, even says it himself "Ah, you never change", he's sneering at his current and past self, because they're the same, they're all the same. He's never moved on from his past habits and weakness. He looks at him and all he has to say is "Ah, you never change" and "Whoops, I screwed up"

Oh but we're not Quite done peeling the Kano Onion yet !! There's still a liiitle more left...

Close-up shot time !! Now you can see in its fullness his weakest moments, he's mocking his own suffering. He smiles and mocks himself, closes his eyes to his own pain and just bows. Throws my laptop

There's also this official art !! I think about this a lot but have never voiced it out before so here we go~

Just. Everyone showing off the wounds that led to their deaths, either with a smile/some enthusiasm or indifference at worst, with a pretty character-telling pose as well. And then fucking Kano, not even focusing on the photoshoot but staring directly at the evidence of his weakest moment, holding it limply, detachedly. Maybe saying that he's starting at it with scorn is too strong a word, his face looks slightly bitter at best, but I'd bet everything that that's what he's feeling.

I don't know just. Everyone around him, whether it's his siblings or the whole god damn Dan, being shown with some form of acceptance of their pasts and traumas, meanwhile Kano's still staring it in the face. Damn, you really don't lie when you say you haven't changed huh?

God my favorite example though, the one that makes me Scream.

Thank you Sidu for this art! I am now on the ground crying.

I'm too lazy to grab them right now but Kido and Seto also have art of themselves with their past selves. Kido fondly pats the head of her younger, insecure self, having growing confident and comfortable in her own skin. Seto holds his past self's hand in something liks solidarity. He doesn't have to be scared anymore. He's becoming the stronger person that he wanted to be.

And Kano?

Ah. well~. He's clinging to his past self, sobbing into his lap while his past self attempts to comfort him. Hm. With growing up you should become someone that your younger self can be proud of, right? Like Kido and Seto. They overcame their shortcomings so they could become proud of who they are today, right? Kano's collapsed in front of his past self.

Guess he didn't really do that, huh?

If anything, he's putting himself even lower than his past self. Maybe he hasn't grown, maybe not even stagnated but rather became worse, just with the same flaws that he had in the past. He didn't change at all, he just sank lower.

Your younger self can attempt to comfort you but didn't you hate yourself back then, too? So what does that make you now? Your younger self looks hunched over and dejected. He's probably just as disappointed as you are.

Ah, and there's text too, right? What does that say?

Mm. (I might have written an incorrect character but this sounds about right I think?) I feel like this was said somewhere else in kagepro, also in regards to Kano, but to be completely honest I totally forgot where. Still though. Uh.. fun! Kano says to himself not words of comfort but assurance that the future will only be more miserable, that he will only hate himself more as time goes on. As if you couldn't already tell with the art itself.

In Yobanashi Decieve, present Kano sees his other self suffering and jeers scornfully. They never changed. Here, past Kano and present Kano suffer together, with present Kano openly suffering if only to himself, clinging to his past hurt for comfort. Together they think, they never will change, they'll only get worse. It'll only get more painful.

Ahem. Just. Ugh! This one piece says so god damn much, and even more when you put it next to Kido's and Seto's. It killed me when I first saw it and still kills me to this day !!! God !

Also I don't have any funny images for this one but. Thinks about. (And I might have some details wrong because again, it's been a while since I've read light novel 5) How he thought he was useless as a child, wondered why he wasn't discarded like a functionally useless object (pretty sure he thought this while his mom threw away a broken tv remote or something?). And then in manga route 2 how he gives his life away as a tool to preserve the others' lives. He has a "use" and he's expending his whole life on it. Like I mean they're gonna die anyway but do you Really have to be like that I Hate you I hate you I h

Like once he has an objective purpose like that he faces it with an easy smile on his face. Bittersweet, yeah. But he does it so god damn willingly. Maybe he's just pretending to take on the role so easily, but still, I can't help but think that he found some comfort in having a direct "use" like this. Even if it just meant his death, for a hopeless cause. If he could just fulfill this purpose, then....

Just the way he smiles at his own demise during that Whole Sequence, even when the remainder of the Dan is Right There.

Just man. Collapses.

Kagepro is all about change and growth and growing up and realizing change and the future really isn't too scary. Meanwhile Kano's stagnant, still sees him as unchanged from his younger self, is too scared to change his manners even if it may help him. No wonder he hates himself. I'm just. Guh, shoves the themes of the narrative in his face Kano Please I'm begging

Like mf he looks content like everyone else in Summertime Record but Are You Really. Are you Really happy yet. Have you really found it within yourself to accept change. Accept yourself. Accept Everything. Do you really think that you'll be able to finally make your younger self smile?

Buries my face in my hands God this man will never Not haunt me for the rest of my days. Get him therapy. I'm normal about him.

I was supposed to be working on assignments but here I am, with my stupid little Kano essay at 1 in the morning. I doubt anyone's gonna read this but if you did I hope you enjoy? This man is very silly in all the worst ways. I love him, I hate him, I want to shove him into a microwave. I want to put him under a microscope. I have multiple times. This man is like a fundamental character that will never Not be a part of my life even when I thought the kagepro hellhole was somewhat behind me for the meantime. He just. Man! He's a lot. And I hope you're in pain with me now too over it ! Okay that's all bye byee~

[captmickey]

t3a: what’s your favorite adventurer to write? Does anyone give you trouble? What’s been your favorite arc? Favorite moment within that arc? If you were to rewrite or redraw anything, what would you do over?

Oooooh this is the equivalent of picking a favorite child. Because they all are my favorite to write depending on the situation (Graham for warmth, Link for bravery, and Guybrush for that comedic but comforting touch). .....But let's be totally honest: it's Guybrush. He's my favorite to write because of the comedy and I love writing comedy. Hilariously enough, the one that gives me the most trouble is Graham. Because it's a fine line of keeping him young, optimistic and heroic self but also brave, clumsy, and still very new to the adventuring world and he is definitely the more emotionally in-tuned one of the trio. Favorite arc has been the last one, Act 7, if only because the pacing felt better to me, I finally got to introduce magic weapons/arrows, Guybrush's trauma, and do action poses I've been dying to do since I've started 3adv and tried different styles of paneling. It was a creative fun one! ....Even if I complained every week about how the page was being a pain. Favorite moment within that act... haaaa too many, but the main one I always think back on was the Mako and Graham plan of yeeting him out of the water and shooting the ice arrow at the Big Bad (I'm still shocked I never gave them a name haha). Haaaaaa..... I'd honestly re-do all of act 1-5. Not because it's bad, I love them all.... but the pacing is, frankly, a garbage pile and a lot of the set ups I wanted to do for the overall arching plot is like, non-existent? Like how Link was asked to find Guybrush and bring him back to Hyrule (No, it's not a spoiler, he outright says it in act 1, act 2 and act 3 I believe, about looking for someone to bring back). It's there if you squint, but it's not like.... THERE. Also, it has been almost ten years, and my style has drastically changed and I can give the boys an actual background instead of the endless void.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

The Robin Manual

First posted: May 8, 2018

Focuses on: Bruce (with some Damian)

My favorite bookmark: "Dick and later Damian help Bruce with his depressed potato days"

Second favorite bookmark: "do not read if sad"

Tier: Definitely one of my quieter fics by all metrics.

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself frightfully by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

This was only my third fic ever posted and my first one-shot. As best I can remember, it started because I was procrastinating on Much That Once Was Is Lost (in which Tim is verrrry depressed) and thinking about depression in general. That made me think of the posts about Batman's cape as a weighted blanket, and then I swapped out the cape for a Robin.

Bruce Wayne was having a very bad day that unfortunately had been preceded by a very good week.

This felt important, to set up at the start that Bruce is well-acquainted with bad days and can handle them, but that he also has happiness and that sometimes the light can make the gloom feel gloomier.

Most of the time, he could feel them coming the way a swimmer could feel the approach of something huge beneath the surface of the water. The pressure would start to build, tugging at him like undertow by the shore, and it was always a gamble to see how long he could tarry before the pull yanked him under.

My two earlier fics both had water imagery, too, so this third time's charm really cemented things, I think.

As Bruce Wayne, he charmed and cajoled and raised funds and awareness. As the Bat, he worked and fought and bled. 

"Why doesn't the billionaire just—" HE DOES!! THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT! This man has devoted EVVVVVVERY facet of his life to trying to heal his city and to prevent his own childhood trauma from happening to everyone else!!

Then Dick Grayson had come into his life. Bright, irrepressible Dick, who despite all he’d been through shone so fiercely with life that sometimes it hurt to look at him. Days with Dick meant chatter and laughter and so many questions that Bruce’s tongue felt like shoe leather by the end. He loved every minute.

This was also important to me, establishing Bruce as someone so very different from Dick but who loves that boy completely and irrevocably. This was also multiple years pre-Battinson. Get on my level, Reeves, I dare you.

And then, very carefully, a small body had climbed onto his back and lay down.

Confession: I very much wanted Bruce to be on his back when Dick came in, so Dick could sleep on his chest. Idiot wouldn't roll over for me. Turns out stomach-sleeping is the most depressed of poses.

He couldn’t risk sinking, couldn’t risk losing himself, even for a day. He forced himself up and through his bad days, his mind fathoms away but his body up, moving, fighting, protecting. It felt like trying to walk on a broken foot, each step grinding shattered bones further into dust. But he did it, because he had to. And then came the very bad day in the very good week.

Again, the good makes the bad seem worse. Also, Bruce has such mammoth willpower, it makes sense that he would push through mental pain the same way he would physical, because he felt like he had to, even to his own detriment, and only be able to fall apart once he was sure it was safe to do so.

Bruce didn’t know how long he had drifted until he bumped against the reef of that voice. Skeletal fingers scrabbled at its edges, trying to hold fast before he could float away again. His kids needed him. There was an emergency. A case. He needed to pull himself up onto those shattered bones and stride back into the fight.

I am pleased with my own imagery. That is all.

When Bruce woke some time later, he remembered to twist slowly and grab the child on his back before turning over completely. With a quiet, sleepy grunt, he settled the groggy boy onto his chest and tousled his dark hair.

Finally! I got him onto his back! Have a small child curled on your chest like a sleepy kitty as a reward!

Lastly: I forgot that in the endnotes for this one, I already had staked a flag in Bruce being touch-starved. Fascinating.

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Statistical Outliers

Part 7 of drabble. I'm calling it. I'm just writing them long now. Also, this one has Valentino and Angel, just as a heads up. Nothing graphic but a warning. Also a little suggestive because, again, Valentino.

“Welcome to the show everybody! Hope everyone’s been having a marvelous week!”

Vox spun in his chair, greeted to the captive audience behind his televisions. The morning show was a fan favorite, always has been. Honestly, he takes a lot of pride in it. It’s just him for the most part, spouting off whatever relevant nonsense there was for the time. He gave a brief recap of what was going on in the world above, something he had to sneak in from sources that actually went up there. If he got a few details wrong, eh, no big deal. It’s not like anyone can fact check him down here anyways. For the newly introduced to Hell, it was a good way to grab their attention. And that only meant more viewers in the long run.

“Coffee’s done.”

The kid ran over into his monitor room, pulling his attention away from his cyber studio for a moment. The smell of warm coffee jumped up to greet him, and he gladly took it off the kid’s hands. Ah, as perfect as last time.

“Still a crap cup of coffee.” He said. The kid didn’t believe him anymore. He just swayed happily in place as Vox kept taking sips.

He kind of wanted to squeeze the ever loving hell of out him. He settled for roughing up the top of his fur.

“Hey, I just fixed that!” He tried to bat back the invading assault, but Vox had much bigger hands and a much longer reach. There was little he could do.

“Yeah? Complain to someone who cares.”

The programs went on, switching from news, to commercials, to the morning sitcoms. He noticed the kid paying attention to his spy drones’ footage, of his fellow hotel mates dragging themselves out to go look for him again. Alastor noticed the camera. He posed for it, the smiley freak. He flicked the footage away, switching it to the camera just outside.

Velvette was there, pacing. She was deciding how she wanted to start this, Vox knew. Was she going to try for the innocent act? Was she going to storm in raging? She had a hundred different faces for her followers, but Vox fell for exactly zero of them.

Delighted, he took another sip of coffee.

“Don’t say a word.” He told the kid.

Bang! Bang!

“Vox! Open the fucking door, now!” Brattish it is then! Wonder how long she’ll keep it up. “And fix the fucking Wi-Fi! It’s been buggy all day!”

“Be there in a moment, Vel!” He lied. “Still running some new security features into the mainframe. The Wi-Fi will probably be a little spotty for a while!”

“Ugh!” She screamed. “Is my toy in there with you? I couldn’t do my morning post without him!”

Vox rolled his eyes playfully. The kid had to cover a laugh with a hand.

“Yeah, he’s here! Not to worry, I’m taking good care of him until your done with all those projects you’ve got!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Give him back right fucking now! He’s mine! You gave him to me!”

“And I’m just taking him off your hands until you’re less distracted, Vel! If you have more than enough time for pranks, surely you can finish those clothes for Val, draw up plans for the next season, and throw out a few more ads for our products.” Act like a child, don’t be surprised when you’re treated like one.

His sharks have taken a special interest in the kid, and not in the ‘I want to eat it’ way. It was rare that Vox let someone into his space for long. Even Vel and Val were only momentary intruders. Sure, they saw them in the conference room, but they tended to ignore them since nothing fun ever came from the conference room. The kid couldn’t have been more enchanted by his vicious friends. He didn’t touch the acrylic on Vox’s orders, but he was getting as close as he could and ogling.

“Vee, come on! That’s not fair!” She called out, a little more pained this time.

Ah, already switched from ‘Vox’ to ‘Vee’. The Wi-Fi thing must really be bothering her.

“Can’t be helped! Not to worry, the update is almost done.” He lied again.

He gazed out into the sea of his audience. Many of them had those headphones of his, quite a few of them had the eared version. Some odder cases seemed to be trying to make the standard one look like those special editions, but the ears were wrong and didn’t glow right. He noticed though another new fad popping up. Long shirts and oversized hoodies with homemade designs on them, especially running up the arms. In particular, different tread marks seemed to be of interest. Huh. One look at the kid explained that one.

It wasn’t widespread yet, but he could see the pattern before it emerged. Velvette would pick it up in no time, patent it, and let it sell like hotcakes. Well, best let her get started on it then.

“Darling,” Velvette’s voice was much softer this time. He did always like being called ‘darling’. Something about it just rubbed the right way. “please open the door? The prank was just a stupid-”

The doors opened themselves. The kid gave him a look, a joke hiding behind his lips. Vox quietly shushed him.

“My dear, I’m sorry about the wait. You know how absorbed I get into things.” He said, swinging his chair around as she walked up the catwalk. “The update should be done now. Let me know how it works.”

She checked her phone for a second, then brought herself back to look at him.

“You’re not still mad? Right?”

“I wasn’t mad to begin with! Only concerned. Can’t have my best girl stressing herself out and pulling herself too thin. Next time, if you have an issue, just bring it up. You know I’ve got a fix for everything. Especially ways to de-stress.”

With that, he snapped his fingers. His former technician that had been dangling above the shark tank, paralyzed by a complete excess of volts running his system, was unceremoniously dropped. The kid pulled back in silent horror as the man was quickly ripped to pieces. He looked like he was going to hurl. That’s what you get for mistaking his sharks as friendly dogs, he wanted to tease.

Velvette watched with half interest. Then, from the blue, she jumped up and kissed the side of his face. Her black lipstick left an obvious mark, but she didn’t wipe it away. Must be feeling slightly possessive then, he assumed. She pulled him in for a quick pic, being sure to get the kid in the background looking around the room. She didn’t post it though, instead made it her new screensaver.

She was still for just a moment, then she stole his coffee mug and took a sip.

“Ugh, Vee, you have the worst taste in coffee.”

Velvette was the type to go to a coffee store and make the barista regret ever getting up in the morning. If she was at the bar, she was just as bad to the bartender, especially if the drink didn’t look good enough for Voxtagram. His tastes were a lot more simple. Nothing he drank ever made her happy. She still insisted on trying it though, almost every time. Lipstick stains on his mug and his face, she was finally content enough to head out.

“Cutie pie, come on! We’ve got work to do. Val’s whores aren’t going to dress themselves.” She called the kid over with a flick of her finger. He didn’t immediately follow. Instead, a silent exchange happened between him and Vox.

Yeah, go with her. She’s fine.

And he bounded after her.

When the door closed again, Vox took to his chair. Vel’s lipstick added a sweetness to his drink that wasn’t there before. He always liked how it tasted, but maybe next time not in his coffee. Before him, Hell kept turning. The morning news gave way to the TV specials and his reality shows. ‘Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?’ was showcasing a double feature, two sisters and one guy. He’s not sure if they were going to kill each other first or their so-called man.

Whatever the case, he scrolled through some of his other work in the meantime. A few inventors tossed ideas up to him, hoping to gain favor and get their products endorsed by the biggest tech name in Hell. Most of them were scams, and not even well-hidden ones. He put a special tab on these ones and set them aside. He had a special show for those types, one where he, Velvette, and Valentino sit in hotseats, picking apart people’s designs and ideas. Vox already did all the work behind the scenes. He knew which ones were worth the investment. It made for good television whenever all three of them seemed to agree that an idea was great, and it also was just as good when an idea was so bad that they dropped the presenter into the tank below.

It made everyone feel like they had a shot at getting a contract with the big bosses, if you were willing to bet it all.

And, personally, he always loved watching them squirm, even when he knew he wanted the product.

It wasn’t too long later that he decided that he really ought to check on Alastor’s loser squad. Now that the kid was gone and he didn’t have to see the sad eyes, he brought it back up.

He nearly had a heart attack.

Alastor’s malicious sneer was dangerously close to one of his drones, too close for the camera to survive the onslaught of his dark magic.  Symbols and green wisps of evil started to strangle the life out of the little machine. Al’s yellow teeth contorted like a snake and goblin shark hybrid.

“Hello, old pal.”

Vox disconnected the drone. He just completely shut it down, dragged the code from the mainframe. If he even tried hacking in, the whole system would fight to push him out, considering it the same as a virus.

Everything is fine, Vox. You’re fine. Deep breaths.

The kid’s still here. He’s fine. He’s with Velvette.

…but just to be safe.

He found him right by Vel’s side, holding a bunch of clothes in his arms as they climbed down the levels in the elevator. See? He’s fine. Nothing bad’s going to-

Wait. Were they going to Val’s studio?

He spat out his coffee. Vel? What were you doing? You can’t take him in there with all those…well, Val’s people.

It got worse. It got so much worse. Because Angel Dust was there early, already on set and already ready to jump into that sultry little dress Vel made for the movie poster.

Oh, no. No, no! Bad! Very bad!

Vel, do something! Get him out of there! Wha-! No! Don’t just walk away! That dime store whore doesn’t not need your attention as much as the kid does right now!

Vel walked off to dress the girls, leaving the kid holding a great big pile of clothes, in the middle of Val’s set. Angel Dust looked like he had the wind dragged from his sails. Even the makeup could only do so much to cover up too many sleepless nights. He dragged his feet and sat down in his studio chair, a sigh ripping from him.

“You know, I really wish on days like these that I wasn’t trying to stay sober.”

Apparently, those big ears weren’t just for show. Despite everyone else in the room, and the smooth music, and the re-wind of Val and his director’s cut of the film, the kid lit up.

“Angel?”

The spider reacted like someone just shot something hard straight to his brain, like he might be concerned he was going crazy. All eight eyes sprung wide as the kid put the clothes down on a nearby loveseat.

“Drift! Oh my God! You’re alive! Holy shit!” He leapt up, arms open wide to grab him.

Panic leapt into his chest. He didn’t know the specifics of Val’s deal. Did it only apply if Vox handed him over? Did it only mean they had to ‘try’ to find the kid? What did he specifically mean about the return policy? There were too many ‘ifs’. Far too many for Vox to let this go any further.

He tore into the wires, moving as fast as possible. Lightning could move almost as fast as light could. Even following the current, Vox made it in more than enough time to rip right out of the nearby camera and directly in between the two of them.

All around, everything buzzed. The lights flickered. His rush left a small wake of rumbling sound, echoing with the acoustics of this place. He kept a smile plastered to his face, but anyone could tell it was more of a threat.

Angel, surprisingly, jumped straight from shock to rage.

“You motherfucker-!”

“Now, now.” Vox started. “Let’s not do or say anything you might regret.”

“Ah, Angelcakes! I see you’ve met our newest little pet project.” Val sauntered over from his director’s chair, stepping up behind Vox. His four arms dipped down. Two of them grabbed the kid by the shoulders, keeping him snugly in place. The other two played with his face, grabbing his muzzle much too hard and forcing him to look up at him. “He’s just adorable. The perfect little plaything.”

The kid was shaking. He couldn’t struggle from Val’s grasp, and he’s not even sure how much he could breath with Val holding his face like that. Worse, how Val had said that. Even to Vox, it sounded wrong.

Which is so weird, because he knew that Valentino had no interest in kids, ever. Not because he was bothered by it or something, but more so because kids weren’t ‘sexy’.

That didn’t change the fact that, that had creeped the fuck out of Vox.

And if it had creeped Vox out, he can only imagine what Angel’s mind jumped to. Soul contract be damned, Angel looked ready to tear Val’s face off.

“If you touched that kid, I swear to god-”

“Val.” Vox interjected. His new speakers drowned out any other sound in the place, including the rest of Angel’s little rant, just in the nick of time. “A word. Alone.”

Valentino was a little too pleased with himself. He put the kid down slowly before directing Angel back to the set. The whisp of smoke formed a chain for a second, tethered to the spider’s neck.

“Sit right there and don’t move. I’ll be back in a minute.”

While Val was doing that, Vox leaned down to the kid quickly.

“You okay?”

“He can’t do that to Angel.” He argued, coughing as he wrung his hands by the harsh lines now imprinted on his neck.

“He can do whatever he wants to Angel. He owns him.”

“That’s not fair-”

“Fair or not, Angel’s an adult. He made his own decision.” Did he really believe that? Sort of, consent was always questionable with addicts. “But if you don’t want to get him or yourself into worse trouble, don’t move. Don’t go to Angel. Just stay right here until I get back.”

It destroyed him on the inside, Vox could see that. All he wanted to do was run over and check on his friend. But, thankfully, it seemed like he trusted Vox’s judgement enough to heed his warning. He stayed still, tail pulling between his legs as the surrounding employees just seemed to notice what was going on.

Vox gestured for Val to follow him to Angel’s dressing room. It was mostly soundproof, for obvious reasons, which made it ideal for what Vox had in mind. Val strolled in, but not before giving one last look between the two hotel mates. It made Angel’s skin crawl again.

“What is it, Vox? Can’t you see I’ve got things handled?”

Handled? That was what he counted as ‘handled’?

He slammed the door shut behind him, shocking Valentino.

“Oh, Val. What do you think you’re doing?”

Reflexively, the moth backed up a bit. His antenna flicked in alarm. Vox could be scary when he was angry. And when he was truly pissed?

“I was…I was…” The words seemed to die on his tongue for a moment. “I was securing an asset. I want Angel back and you’re getting too attached to that brat and-”

“You want Angel back?” His voice warped as he stepped too close to Val, where he had no room left to back up. “Is that really what you want?”

“Um…yes?” He sounded uncertain now.

Vox’s teeth bared too wide to seem friendly.

“No, Val.” He said, his voice coming back down. “You don’t want that.”

“Yes, I-!”

He grabbed his collar, pulling him down to Vox’s height for the time being.

“No, you don’t. You don’t want to force him back like that. You want to prove him right? That the only reason he is here was because he had to be? No. He should want to come back to you.” His harsh grip turned softer, claws combing through and dancing towards the line of his neck. Val gulped.

“You want him on his hands and knees. You want him begging to be back in your arms.” While his one hand teased, and plucked the first button off Valentino’s shirt, his other hand wrapped around. He dug into the flesh of his back, just by the base of his spine. Val squeaked and dragged himself closer.

“But…but the kid-”

He chuckled.

“Were you worried I forgot about you? You?” Vee tower was his plaything. It was all an extension of him. Like an arm, he could twitch the nerves to pull as he pleased. Holographic screens played across the walls. The whole room beamed with light, before flicking to different scenes.

Valentino posing for a shoot. Valentino with blood on his hands and fresh gun smoke in the air. Valentino stretched out across his lounge, counting his money. Valentino laid out on Vox’s sheets, inviting him over with a lick of the lips.

“You’re a star, Val. My star. You think there’s ever a moment I’m not watching you? You think that there’s another soul in this decrepit place as intoxicating as you?”

Valentino eating his chocolates a little too slow. Valentino ruthlessly tearing apart a rival. Valentino dancing around the room in the morning wearing Vox’s robes.

“There’s no one like you, Val. And there’s no one that can take my gaze off you.”

He pulled down, dragging him into a dip. Instinctively, Val’s legs flew up to wrap around Vox. His whole body shuttered with delight as poison dripped hungerly down his face.

“Oh, you’ve ruined me.” Valentino said, almost groaning. Vox knew he’d be thinking about this and only this for the rest of the day. His arms interlocked around Vox’s neck.

“Not yet. Maybe tonight. But I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about me not keeping my eyes on you.” Vox teased.

The way Val was looking at him now, the minute they started making out no other work would be achievable today. And, if Vox had it his way, Val wouldn’t be able to walk afterwards.

“Now, we really have to do something about yours and Angel’s new deal.”

“Oh, screw that. He can come back when he begs for it.”

That’s exactly what Vox wanted to hear.

…

Composing himself to look somewhat professional was harder than he expected. Val had messed up his jacket in his pursuit for purchase on his back. He’d also messed up his bowtie, something he’d unfortunately neglected to notice until after the kid gave him a funny look.

“Angelcakes, back to shooting.” Val directed with a wave of his cigarette.

Angel’s face dropped in panic.

“Val, the deal. What about our deal? You’re supposed to give the kid back!”

“Correction.” Vox interrupted. “The deal was if I found the kid, and I gave him to Val to give to you, then you’d come back to work, fulltime.” He went over the specifics with Val right before walking back in. He was a stickler for wording. “And I don’t feel like handing him over to anyone.”

He walked up behind the kid and, purposefully, put his hands on his shoulders a little tight.

“I think I’ll keep him.”

The spider’s eyes all focused on Vox, fury rising in his throat.

“You think that I’d just let that happen? Oh, Smiles has been wantin’ an excuse to knock your head off. Just wait till I tell ‘em.”

“Nobody is telling anyone, anything.” Val mentioned.

“Oh yeah?” Angel challenge back.

“Oh, yeah.” Val confirmed. “If you try anything, there won’t be a kid left to rescue, Angelcakes.”

The kid was being so well behaved, mouth zipped tight. Angel could assume from what Val said that Vox had his contract, and the kid’s attitude only played into it. Was it worth the risk of the kid getting his soul ripped apart?

Angel’s face fell.

Yeah, didn’t think so.

Then, surprising Vox, the kid ran over and grabbed Angel in a hug.

“It’s okay.” He swore. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

A few tears slipped out Angel’s face, especially when they had to let go. Vox snapped his fingers, and the kid ran to his side again.

“We’re leaving.” He said. If Vel wanted him back, he could pick him up from Vox’s room again. Val blew him a kiss as they walked back into the lift.

When the doors closed, a weight pulled off his shoulders.

“Thank you.” The kid looked up at him, and odd truthfulness to his words that shook something in the core of Vox’s head.

“…for what?”

“For saving my friend. I’m not…it’s not worth the price he’d have to pay.” He pursed his lips. “And he never would’ve let me go unless you made him. So…thank you.”

Despite himself, a grin pressed to his face.

“I didn’t do it for him. Maybe I’m getting used to the annoying buzzing sound of your voice. It’d be a shame to get rid of it now.”

Oh, fuck me. The kid was happy now. Cuteness aggression was a bitch. He kinda felt like squeezing him until he popped.

“I like your voice too.”

He grabbed his muzzle and playfully closed it.

“Shut up, kid.”  

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10

[faustinio27]

Eagles don't belong in cage (HL fic)

Summary: Orphaned since birth, Faustine escapes her dull everyday life with fantasy books. As she dreams of magic, her wish may be granted, for better… and for worse.

Warnings: child abuse, violence

MC is my character, Faustine Daemon. You can find more info about her here. This fic is her backstory and takes place before she joined Hogwarts

A BIG thanks to @alsopartgekkos who has been my beta reader (and moral support) from start to finish 🫶

“I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close set bars of a cage : a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there ; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high.” -Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

Faustine no longer believed in God.

Hands clasped, head bowed, body bent on a bench in silent prayer to a crucifix.

A quick glance while everyone is busy: same people, same poses, same eyes closed in reverence. Some murmuring prayers. Others are so bent double that knees touch faces.

She wasn’t the only one without faith, was she? 

A question burned inside her mouth: Faustine tried to find the answer in someone else's face so many times. Tried to decipher every furrowed brow and wrinkle, every movement of the lips. Maybe it’s just her, really. Maybe she should not blame others for choosing otherwise. To get through life, some people clung to God.

Faustine, on the other hand, preferred imagination.

Her gaze shifted to the high ceiling and followed familiar gothic arches, descending into pillars. Her favorite stained glass windows depicting the flight of a white dove reflected the rays of the morning sun in a harmonising blend of blue, red and yellow. A splash of colour in the dull reality of an orphanage. But it’s only a moment before suffocation, when her eyes linger on Christ's pain-stricken face depicted on each mosaic.

No one has to know she lost faith now.

Or maybe it's already happened long ago. Maybe she lulled herself in promises of a wonder, but the years went by without a miracle. They say you always have to believe in Him. A question dances on the tip of her tongue like a sin.

Did He ever believe in her?

Her mind sought to wander beyond the walls, leaving the confines of the church for the little paths of the garden, the busy city. In her daydream, Faustine passed a shop window: her reflection dressed in one of these luxurious gowns, dazzled with beauty a little more with each step, so light that she seemed to fly, moved like a ballet dancer on an imaginary stage. She reached Big Ben, overlooking London in all its splendor and a pair of black wings materialized on her back, feathers twirling. Effortlessly, Faustine flew up to admire the city: passers-by not bigger than little ants, staring at her with amazement and admiration. She smiled, before soaring even higher into the sky, caressing the fluffy clouds, waving to the thousand-colored birds. Pure air entered her nostrils, allowing to breathe deeper. Her numb limbs waited to expand, again and again, until she reached the night sky. The moon was right in front of her, huge and softly shining white.The scene unfolding before Faustine  resembled a play  in which she was the lead actress, only the stars weren't made of cardboard  but actually stood before her eyes. They began to dance around her, leaving a  trail of light behind, reflecting  off her skin, which now seemed to contain a galaxy of its own. They twirled in chorus towards the full benevolent  moon. Faustine raised her hand in its direction, to-

"Can I, please, get through?"

A voice ripped Faustine back to her senses, back to Earth and the hustle of morning prayer. Her eyes darted to see other people rising in turn: the mass was over and she happened to be the one too engrossed in daydreaming to notice.

Girl’s face scrunched, gaze brushing Faustine in mixture of christian pity and disapproval.

Right.

Dreams weren’t allowed at St Maria-the-Bow.

As soon as they left the prayer room, the young residents followed one after the other, silent under the stern eyes of the nuns. Once they reached the main hall, the anthill was divided: each group of children going about their own tasks. Some headed for the kitchen to help prepare meals, while others went to the storeroom to arm themselves with brooms. For her part, Faustine climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, closely followed by a flock of girls slightly younger than herself. After passing through several dull corridors, they finally arrived at the baby room. A dozen cribs stood there, each containing a toddler to be cared for: some asleep, others screaming more or less loudly, awakened by the light streaming in from the just-opened door. The girls already rushed  into the room, past Faustine, who remained standing at the landing. Some gave her questioning looks, others frowned at her motionless stance, but no one remarked. She kept staring  at the babies, heart in her throat.

Although no memory of it remained, Faustine had once  been in one of those cradles, years before. That some other girls, who came before, had to change her diapers, gave her a bottle. What had become of those girls? What would become of me?

"Miss Daemon, what are you waiting for?"

Faustine raised her eyes to glare at a nun towering behind her, hands clasped behind and small brown eyes squinted in judgment.

"Don’t think you can escape your duties by standing there in the hallway. If you don't want to do chores until midnight, hurry up and get to work."

"Sorry, Sister Kezia."

Head bowed, Faustine entered the room. She approached the first crib and observed the chubby baby, who had just woken up. No sooner had their eyes met than he started screaming at the top of his voice.

It was going to be a long day.

The sun finally set, and the babies, changed and fed, fell asleep again in their cribs, and even if they didn't sleep, it was no longer Faustine's problem. The children dined in religious silence before going to their own rooms. After washing up, they all prayed to God and thanked him for the day - Faustine didn't really pray - before going back to their beds.

Faustine shared a bedroom with five other girls: white, musty , three bunk beds facing each other, wooden bindings threatening to give way at any moment. A single chest of drawers was enough to store the residents' meager belongings. The nuns claimed owning little was a sign of virtue, but in reality the orphanage was too poor to garnish the room with anything more. Still, a crucifix remained on the blank wall, as if it followed Faustine wherever she went.

One by one, the residents slipped under their comforters without a word. Faustine followed, lying down on the bottom bunk. A quarter of an hour later, a nun opened their door to check if they were asleep. Half an hour later, the children's breathing became more regular.

Except for her.

Faustine jumped out of bed as discreetly as possible. She crouched down and reached under the bed, grabbing a slightly raised wooden plank before pushing it off. Her hand groped around in the hiding place, until it touched the object she was interested in: out popped a thick book. Faustine dusted off her blanket, smiling broadly, before snuggling back under the sheets. 

Since no candles were allowed, Faustine benefited from the moonlight streaming through the window onto her bed. The young girl set the book in front of the glass. As soon as she opened it, the inky black words seemed to dance. Faustine immediately lost herself in a world filled with wizards, dragons and magic. Although books were not forbidden at the orphanage, there were certain…recommendations. Witchcraft was associated with the Devil, and had no place in a religious establishment. However, after reading the entire library available to the residents, from textbooks to children's stories, Faustine's overflowing imagination couldn't stop there. May God forgive her, for it was to these cursed stories that she preferred to take refuge in.

The next day was a repeat. Up, prayers, breakfast, lessons, lunch, until it was time for chores.

As Faustine headed for the stairs, Sister Kezia intercepted her.

"The director wants you to go to town on errands."

The orphan prevented the smile from forming on her face to not tempt the sister to change her plans. So Faustine simply nodded.

"Go into the kitchen, so Sister Judy can give you what you need," ordered the nun.

Faustine obeyed, forcing herself to walk at a measured pace, her legs itching to run. The cold corridors of the orphanage suddenly seemed more colorful than ever.

As she entered the kitchen, a group of girls stopped chatting, staring as one in her direction, and their piercing eyes unsettled the joy felt only moments before. They look like vultures. Faustine tried to pass them with an indifferent expression, but when one of them whispered in her neighbor's ear, eyes glued to the newcomer, she  gritted her teeth to avoid making a scene. 

"Did you see the smug look on her face?"

"She keeps thinking she's better than us."

"Is she going to bother us again with her magic stories?"

"That crazy girl should be locked up in a hospital."

All those phrases she already before swirled in her mind, poisoning the mood.

"Ah, there you are." 

Sister Judy was a tall, overweight woman. She stood  over a large copper pot of steaming soup, the preparation of which Faustine suspected contained more water than any other ingredient. The sister grabbed a basket and threw it into Faustine’s  arms, handing a piece of paper with a bunch of words scrawled on it.

"The list."

Just as Faustine was about to take it, the nun raised her arm sharply.

"Don't dawdle, you've got to get back before nightfall. No detours."

"Of course."

The woman then held out the piece of paper, followed by a small wad of crumpled bills. Faustine felt the burning gaze of the orphans behind her, as she took them to stow away in her pocket.

"Ask a sister to give you the keys to the gate. Chop-chop!"

Faustine left the kitchen without further ado. Arriving at the gate in a long cloak to ward off the winter chill, Faustine watched the gates rise into the sky. She called out to a busy nun  clearing snow to make a path from the gate to the front door.

"Mrs. Robertson asked me to go shopping. May I have the keys to the gate?"

The little woman judged her up and down before taking out the bunch of keys without a word and let it fall into Faustine’s  hands. However foolish it was to entrust an orphan with the exit from her prison, no one was going against the director. They needed extra hands to fetch the groceries, and Faustine was the oldest resident, so it made sense for her to go.

When she put the key in the lock and it made that satisfying little click, Faustine took a deep breath and stepped outside.

If London seems like a gray city to you, try looking at it through the eyes of an orphan who'd lived cooped up all her life.

Sure, her clothes were rags, she didn't have wings growing out of her back, and the sun shone brighter than the moon. But Big Ben still towered high in the sky.

Every detail became a source of comfort: footsteps crunching in the burnished snow, the smell of pastries coming out of the corner bakery, the constant hubbub of passers-by who could range from shouting to laughter. If no one was paying her any attention, all her senses were on the alert to rediscover every little insignificant detail of this city.

The route she took was always the same: the bakery, the grocery, the fishmonger, the butcher. Each brimmed with the little secrets she loved so much. The sound of crusty bread in her arms, the countless rows of cans and bottles of different sizes and colors, the fish with strange faces that seemed to come straight from the unknown depths of the sea, and the smell of red meat so enormous it seemed to come from a legendary animal. Faustine examined each of these stores with a particular interest, which displeased some. Vendors would give her indiscreet glances for fear that this louse might steal something from them. But she always ended up with enough to pay, offering them her few bills with a broad smile.

The sun was beginning to set as she exited the last store and her basket was overflowing with supplies. She readjusted her jacket to keep warm, as Londoners began to head home to warm up in front of their open fires. But her afternoon wasn't over yet, and the best part of the day was just beginning.

The snow was starting to fall as she pulled up in front of a picturesque building. The crooked edifice made of aged red bricks and a wooden storefront that seemed to struggle to hold it up. Flower boxes brightened up the windows, overcoming the cold by some miracle. An "open" sign, written in curvilinear script inviting the curious inside, hung on a door engraved with pretty symbols and a hand-shaped knocker. It was the most beautiful building Faustine had ever seen.

A bell announced her arrival and immediately the smell of books enveloped her. The warmth quickly dispelled the icy cold from outside, as if she'd come home to a roaring fire. The walls of the store were narrow, but the high ceiling allowed hundreds of books to pile up to the top. The owner, Mr.Callan, was busy at the till with a couple. Faustine greeted him with a nod, which he caught, and responded with a large smile.

Books were everywhere. On the floor, on the staircase leading to Mr.Callan's private apartments, on the shelves, on the cash register. She walked carefully to avoid tripping over a detective novel, and weaved her way between two stacks of books taller than her, all the while ogling the titles on the shelves. To find what she was looking for, Faustine didn't have to be afraid to rummage from cover to cover. Not that she minded.

She let her finger wander along the edges, bending her head to read titles. A color, a name, a particular design could be enough to catch her eye and make her pick one up. She chose a substantial book wedged between an insect encyclopedia and an Austrian dictionary. The title was "Around the World in Seventy-Two Days" and featured a woman with a suitcase in hand, looking confident and determined. Faustine opened the book and flipped through a few pages. Thus, she found herself plunged into the heart of Japan, heard the sound of a steam train arriving at the station, greeted a fish through the porthole of a submarine and smelled fresh croissants in a Parisian bakery. Closing the book with a firm hand, she could still hear the foreign laughter of French sitting around a table. She placed it back on top of a pile carefully  before moving on.

Faustine barely moved away from a young reader slumped on the floor in a corner, so engrossed in his story that nothing seemed to disturb him. She tiptoed to the top of a shelf and grabbed a blue book with beautiful golden arabesques, only to open it without even reading the title. The sound of a seagull and the salty smell of the sea propelled her onto the pontoon of a pirate ship. She listened to the captain spouting orders to his crew and felt the frenzy of everyone going about their respective tasks. She would have stayed to see them dock with a royal ship, but once again, she closed the book and put it back in its place.

She began again and again. With each book Faustine found herself in a new universe. She could ride a horse through a haunted forest, fly alongside a Phoenix, swim among mermaids, lose herself in infinite space... Each book had its own smell, its own texture, its own story that took her on a journey. She loved to run her fingers over the paper as she passed each page. She could spend her days here, if no obligation held her back. Never had freedom seemed so close as in these words printed in black ink.

With a thud, she closed the last book in her hand. By staying here, she was losing all notion of time. She didn't want to be reprimanded - again -  for getting home after dark. Faustine clutched the fantasy novel she'd just leafed through. It was a forest green cover with a majestic dragon on it, promising a tale to take her far away from her monotonous life. She gritted her teeth, fighting an internal battle between want and responsibility.

Finally, she reached into her pocket for the remaining change. She rotated the coins in the palm of her hand, undecided. Faustine didn't like stealing and that money didn't belong to her. She had been trusted to run errands, which she had to take back to the orphanage. The money left over would be used for future purchases, which would go to all the children's possessions. But another part of her whispered that the director didn't need to know she'd given too much money. She deserved to be paid for the dirty work she had to do, didn’t she? This book wasn't too much to pay for all that was asked of her. It would be her reward for being the daily errand girl. And, above all, it wasn't the first time she'd done it. It was her treasures hidden under her bed that kept her going another day.

She watched people walk past the bookshop window, busy with their own lives. Inevitably more hectic, more interesting than that of a poor invisible orphan. She watched the ladies bundle up in their long, warm coats, the men clinging to their gloves and top hats. They all exuded a standard of living she would never attain. A child lingered in the window, pointing at a storybook. His mother  looked at him tenderly, murmuring an answer that only they could hear, before kissing him on the head and leading him away. Faustine's eyes drooped, the hole in her heart making itself felt more than usual. But once mother and son were gone, they revealed a person sitting across the street. An old man, dressed in rags and sitting on a wooden crate, was warming himself as best he could by rubbing his hands against his arms. No one looked at him. Faustine's heart sank at the sight. She took another look at the book she was holding, before putting it down and leaving the store.

She looked left and right before crossing the street. When she reached him, the old man didn't notice her, too tired and cold for that. Faustine bent down to place a few coins in the bowl in front of him. Their clicking finally woke him up, to meet the newcomer's blue gaze.

"I hope this is enough to buy you a hot meal," she murmured.

The homeless man smiled at her from beneath his white beard, without a word. The girl returned his smile, before continuing on her way. She had given him the few pennies she could’ve bought a book for. But in a way, she didn't care. If it meant the old man could warm up with a stew or a soup, that was enough. And so much for the money she should have given back to the director. She bit her lower lip, feeling guilty for complaining about her life, while others suffered more than she did. She was lucky to have a roof over her head, a semblance of an education, and meals every day - albeit meager.

The return journey was less spirited: the colors gradually turned gray again, as Faustine dragged her feet to the gate, which she locked. A prisoner who has to immure herself in her cell. Ironic, right?

Once inside, the cold didn't seem to have left her. Faustine took the shopping basket to one of the kitchen tables. No one seemed to have noticed her, while the nuns and children ran about, the former barking orders, the latter shivering as they carried them out, a sign that dinnertime was approaching. At least she'd made it back just in time.

Emerging from the frenzy of the kitchen, Sister Kezia was waiting for her. 

"Miss Robertson wants to speak to you in her office."

Faustine swallowed at the news. It was never a good sign when the director specifically wanted to see someone. She skirted the walls as she climbed the stairs with a step intended to be composed. She didn't want to attract any more attention by looking hurried and worried, but from the glances and murmurs of passing children, the news had already made rounds. Perhaps even before she got home. Faustine maintained a neutral, confident expression, but her throat was drying up and she couldn't do anything about it.

Arriving at the heavy wooden door, Faustine breathed for a moment to calm her racing heart, before knocking.

When the director’s voice ordered her to enter, the teenager felt as if she'd arrived in hell.

The room was large, yet felt more oppressive. The crackling fire in the fireplace didn't help. The walls were drab, a sole bookshelf stood proudly against the left-hand wall, filled with perfectly organized books and photos of the orphanage and its residents over the years. Faustine knew she had to be present for the last fifteen. In the center of the room, Miss Robertson sat at her wooden desk, writing with a steady hand on a sheet of paper she seemed to take a malicious pleasure in torturing. In front of her stood two chairs that looked as comfortable as sea urchins, these were set to welcome visitors. Those who had come to collect a child, and those who had come to drop one off. Faustine wondered if her parents had sat there, with her as an infant in their arms, to ask the orphanage to accept her. The director had always told her that she'd been abandoned on the doorstep, but she could just as easily be lying. Just to make her suffer, preaching that Faustine’s  parents hadn't even bothered to put her down in a warm place, but in front of the gates at the mercy of anyone.

Faustine was relieved when the director didn't ask her to sit down. She'd probably be the Ice Queen if she'd come from one of her fantasy books, with white hair pulled back in a high bun and an unsympathetic look behind small glasses, so much everything about her exuded coldness.

"Do you know why I brought you here?"

A sign that she was allowed to  speak. 

"No, ma’am."

Faustine clasped her hands behind to hide their trembling and stood straight, her gaze fixed on an imaginary point so as not to meet the director's gaze. Despite disgust for this woman, she couldn't help wanting to please her - more out of fear than affection.

The director crossed her hands in front of her and finally decided to turn her attention to the newcomer.

"Did you bring the groceries to the kitchen?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did you manage to buy everything on the list?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're always late. Did you make a detour for this?"

Faustine knew how to arrange the truth. Technically, the bookshop was on her way home. If she got home late, it was because she stopped to go there, but she didn't make a detour.

"No, ma'am."

She squinted her wrinkled little eyes at the remark, before sighing. She bent down to grab something from the floor, before tossing it onto her desk. Faustine's heart sank.

All her books were stacked in a neat pile. She recognized each one by edge, size or color. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide, she betrayed her surprise and stress to the director, who remained as impassive as possible.

"I got this from your room. A child who was doing the housework wanted to sweep under your bed. That's when she saw a wooden slat askew. Pushing it aside, she discovered these books, which she promptly brought back to me, as they're normally kept in the library.”

With a lump in her throat, Faustine didn't reply and remained fixated on her wonders. 

"Can you tell me where they came from?"

An answer was required of her, but she'd be doomed either way. And the director knew it.

"Did you steal those books?”

"No."

"Did anyone give them to you?"

"No."

"Did you use the money I gave you to go shopping to buy them?"

Faustine swallowed.

"Only what was left over. I made sure to do all the shopping beforehand, and if there were a few coins left over, I'd put them aside to buy myself a book. I would never-

"So, you used the money from the orphanage to buy yourself presents?"

Faustines’s clammy hands began to shake again, as she tried to avoid the director's gaze.

"Y-yes... But it was only a very small amount, and I thought-"

"-So in addition to being a liar, you're a thief. And have been for a long time, if I judge this pile of books. I knew you were a selfish child, Faustine, but not to this degree."

The words felt like a punch in the face. She'd always disappointed the director, but it was something else to hear her say it.

The old woman grabbed the book at the top of the pile and adjusted her glasses in disgust as she read the cover.

"And… for what? For such... nonsense?"

Faustine bristled as she saw the hooked fingers leafing through her precious book. She bit her tongue to keep from yelling.

"Dragons, fairies, magic. Where did you get the idea to fill your head with such ludicrousy? You've always had your head in the clouds, but I was hoping you'd at least think about your future, not... this."

"But I need it!"

"No, you don’t, young lady!" the director shouted, rising from the chair, unable to bear being contradicted. "What you need is a strict, firm education. You've got to stop fantasizing about imaginary worlds and start living in reality! The only life you have is the one our Lord has granted you. Can't you see I'm trying to help you survive  a life outside these walls? What good are your dreams, when you're out on the street with nothing but your body to sell?"

The violence of these words cut Faustine off at the seams. Her muscles twitched. She would have liked to retort, but the director wasn't entirely wrong; part of Faustine's reason for reading was to escape this monotonous life. She would rather lose herself in these worlds than have to face reality. Miss Robertson realized  that she had touched a nerve, and continued to plunge in.

"Would you like me to remind you of the future that awaits you on the other side of our gates? Here, you're fed, you have a roof over your head, but outside, you'll have to fend for yourself if you don't want to sleep under a bridge. You'll have to work, if anyone is willing to take you on. Which won't happen if you keep daydreaming and wasting your time."

She finally picked up the stack of books and moved dangerously close to the fireplace. Faustine's eyes widened, but she had no time to react. 

"You're a smart girl, Faustine. You know I'm right. And if I have to go that far to make you come to your senses, so be it."

The director tossed the books into the fire. Faustine stifled a frightened scream and raised a desperate arm towards the quickly blackening paper. She was ready to burn her hands to retrieve it, but the old woman turned sharply and unfolded her hooked fingers towards her.

"Give me the book you bought today."

A flash of memory made Faustine flinch, propelling her down the snowy street, only to be brought back by the stifling heat of the flames decomposing her treasure.

"I don't have any," she replied, her throat dry.

"Then give me back the money you had left over from the errand. I'm sure you didn't spend it all."

"I don’t either-"

A vein in the director's temple threatened to explode in anger as she cut Faustine off from her explanation by violently grabbing her wrist. The teenager's blue eyes widened in horror at the sight of her raised hand, which immediately lowered to her cheek with a sonorous clap.

"A thief... a liar..." growled the director between her teeth. "A beating, that's all you deserve."

Faustine's mind clouded with shock. In addition to the pain, it was the violence of the act that left her dazed. She blinked several times to come to her senses, and the first thing she saw was her precious books charred in the fireplace. She wanted to scream at her tormentor. To tell her that she couldn't be satisfied with a life like this. That she didn't owe her or God for her current situation. That she wanted more. That she needed more.

But when the old woman raised her hand again to strike, fear took control of her body. Faustine managed to break free from the steely grip and ran.

The director’s shrill cries ordered her to return, but she did not. She ran towards the exit and violently pushed open the doors. The cold winter wind assaulted her face, but she didn't care.

Arriving at the high gate, Faustine slowed down, her heart racing. Howling sounded behind her. Panicking, she shoved her hands into her pockets and sighed as they touched a small metal object. The gates couldn't resist the key she'd kept from her afternoon outing. Once again, Faustine stepped through the gate like a penitentiary that had seen the light of day after years of confinement. She surrendered to her footsteps, which guided her to who knew where. 

As long as it was far from the orphanage, she’d be alright.

Faustine didn't know how long she'd been running. Step after step in the snow, arms crossed over her body for warmth, Faustine tried to tell herself that she'd been right to run away, even if it didn't seem like it. With each doubt that crossed her mind, she recalled the slap on her face and her books burning. The thought of that fire overwhelmed and made her shiver. What would she give for a little warmth? The moon shone high in the sky, although the stars were hidden by the light pollution of the street lamps. How many times had she admired the white moon from her bedroom? If her situation wasn't so desperate, she'd savor this moment of silence she'd missed so much at the orphanage. London seemed to have frozen into a resplendent tableau. Her eyes moved from the sky to the lighted windows in the houses. If she listened carefully, she could hear children laughing.

She took a step in the direction of one of the houses, before changing her mind, caught up in her doubts. She looked around, searching for a familiar building in vain. When she was allowed out of the orphanage, she always took the same route. The stores, then the bookshop. She had never strayed from this path, as she preferred to burn her time among the pages rather than in the real world. Determined to find a purpose, she set out to find her favorite store. With any luck, Mr. Callan would be able to help her. Running her tongue over her chapped lips, she strove to take another step forward, motivated by the idea of being able to reach her sanctuary.

After about ten minutes, she finally stood in front of the building.

The store was closed. Looking up at the windows above, Faustine put her frozen hands around her mouth to echo.

"Hello? Anybody home, please?"

No light came on. Faustine waited a few minutes, calling again. She knocked on the door with the knocker, but no soul intervened.

Faustine slid down the door. Her skirt came into contact with the snow, but she didn't shiver. I'm only taking a break, she thought to herself, before setting off again. But go back where? She could retrace her steps back to the orphanage, but a shiver crept up her spine at the very thought. She could always wait here till dawn, wait to see more clearly, to see people, and... what? Beg? Ask for help? Who'd want to help a bum orphan? It wouldn't be long before the police brought her back. The director was right: she was fed and housed there. She thought of that old beggar she gave her coins to. Was he alright and fed tonight?

Curled up against herself to fight off the cold and her thoughts in anxious disarray, Faustine felt her eyelids close on their own, before a movement caught her attention. In a narrow passageway between two buildings, two men appeared literally from nowhere, before their feet touched the ground. Faustine stood up, unsure of what she had just witnessed. The strangers glanced around, but failed to spot the teenager at the other end of the street. They moved deeper into the dark alley, as if nothing had happened.

Intrigued, Faustine decided to follow them.

She ran down the alley, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the snow. Keeping a good distance between her and the two men, she  nevertheless observed them in more detail. Both wore  long trench coats, the one on the left was taller, slimmer and with  a distinguished top hat. The shorter one was stocky and bald, but also sounded older somehow. Without shouting, snatches of their conversation reached Faustine. 

"... Ready... Good time...?" 

"... Don't worry... Important merchandise…"

"... If ever... magic..."

Faustine almost stopped at the word. 

Wide-eyed, she wanted to learn more, before realizing that she had to slow down: she had been mechanically speeding up. She stood still for a moment, only to see the men turn between two buildings and disappear from sight. Panicking, she hurried to join them. Around the corner, she saw them take a high iron door. As it closed heavily behind them, its features began to fade, as if someone was erasing them. Without thinking, Faustine ran towards it, grabbed the still visible handle and stepped inside. The entrance vanished at once. Her amazed eyes remained fixed on the now smooth wall. A problem for later.

Turning around, she discovered a small open-air courtyard, surrounded by tall buildings with faded facades. A long corridor led at the end to a brick wall, where one would expect to find a door. A tall cylindrical tower overlooked the apartments, with small square windows opening onto a staircase. The smell of carrion wrinkled her nose.

The two strange men faced a new stranger. His clothes matched: a luxurious black suit under a long brown coat. He wore graying sideburns and small, round glasses. His features wrinkled as the two men approached, revealing a growing anxiety. Faustine hid behind a wooden barrel, serving as a table with bottles of alcohol on its lid. In this position, she couldn't see the men, but their voices came through loud and clear.

"Mr. Thompson, what a pleasure to see you again," declared the smaller man. "Are you satisfied with our boiling teapot?"

"Y-yes. My mother-in-law has been in the hospital ever since I gave it to her. I didn't see with my own eyes the miracles you promised, but the result was there."

Faustine tilted her head a little more towards them, ears wide open.

"Apparently, her house was turned upside down, there was tea everywhere. Her face was burned -but she'll get over it. The authorities blamed it on an argument between neighbors."

"I'm delighted," continued the older man. "Will you be interested in our latest merchandise?"

"Invisibility potion," croaked the young man in a squeaky voice that made her wince.

Faustine peeked out a bit.

He twirled a vial with his long fingertips, like charming a snake with his flute. The man with the sideburns seemed mesmerized, before coughing his way out of the daydream.

"Perhaps I could have a... glimpse of its effectiveness?"

The bald man placed his hands on his hips.

"The teapot worked fine, didn't it?"

"Just a precaution."

The two sellers exchanged brief glances, eyebrows furrowed and backs straightened. The younger directed his hand beneath his coat, before the other raised his arms in submission.

"You heard him. The gentleman wants to check the quality of our products."

The younger man grunted. He caught the cork in his teeth before spitting it on the floor, then lifted the unfamiliar liquid to his lips. In three gulps, the vial was empty. Faustine's breathing came to a halt as she watched the man's contours gradually disappear, like the door a few moments ago. First his feet, then his hips, back, arms and finally his head. If a slight reflection still allowed a glimpse of a shape, the illusion was almost perfect. A long smile spread across her cold-rosy face. She had never witnessed anything so extraordinary.

The invisible figure spun around, as evidenced by the footprints in the snow. Then, a few seconds later, he reappeared. Faustine’s heart pounded in her chest.

The magician pulled another bottle from his coat, while the other held out a greedy hand.

"As for the price... You'll understand that we're the only ones to sell these items to the Muggle world. You'll never find them anywhere else. As for its effectiveness, there's nothing better. You're free to do what you like with it."

Muggle world? Now they were talking in strange words that filled her ears like a sweet melody. The sight made her forget the biting cold that froze her limbs from crouching behind that barrel. Until her foot landed on a sharp texture that made a screeching sound. Shards of broken glass are crushed under her sole.

"Damn," she muttered.

The three men immediately stared at her with big, round eyes. Faustine remained motionless, naively hoping they wouldn't see her. But in her eagerness to hear a little more of their conversation, she had moved far too close, the barrel no longer hiding her. Suddenly, a terrible tension filled every bone in her body, the magic of one moment turning into the dread of another.

Faustine took a step back, her hands raised in submission, well aware that she shouldn't be here.

"Listen, I won't say anything. I didn't see anything."

A big fat lie. 

The taller dealer was the first to walk up to her, while casting a questioning glance at the second, who shook his head briefly. Faustine stepped back.

"I swear to you. No one will know an-"

A bolt of red lightning struck. Faustine quickly crouched down with a scream, clasping her hands over her head. The young man clutched a distorted wooden wand in his hand, a scarlet glow emanating from it. Glancing back, Faustine saw a smoldering black mark on the wall where the door had previously appeared.

"What are you waiting for?" spat the eldest.

His arm rose. Sparks flew from the end of the wood. The girl didn't wait for the rest. She leapt up, and another bolt of lightning struck the spot where she had been a second before. The snow melted there with an icy crackle. Not asking for more, Faustine ran to the tower. She passed the customer, who just stood there, helpless. As the girl reached the gate, her hands struck the cold metal as she gripped it with all her might. Miraculously, it opened under her weight.

"Confrigo!"

A searing explosion melted the metal centimeters from her fingers. Wide-eyed, the orphan rushed up the spiral staircase.

The two men set off after her. Their every step echoed in the narrow tower. Spells kept coming, but the circular architecture meant they could never aim right. A brick exploded just above her. Each explosion vibrated in her chest, as if her heart would stop at the next one.

With wobbly legs, Faustine shoved the exit door open. She found herself on the rooftops. London was sleeping just below. Breathing heavily, she would have stopped to admire the scenery, if two wizards - were they wizards? - weren't trying to kill her.

"Come back here!"

The shout snapped her out of stupor. Faustine placed a shaky foot on the first snow-covered roof. Her legs hesitated between running and walking. The void pitched at less than a meter. The cold wind swept through her blond hair and unbalanced every limb. But she kept going, one slippery step after another. Don't look down. Don't look down...

A shout snapped her out of her stream of thought.

"Bombarda!"

Immediately, the roof jumped under her feet. Tiles smashed into her forearms as she shielded her face. A cry escaped her lips as she desperately reached out, clawing at the void to grab hold of something. Her right hand caught a hanging store sign, a stabbing pain shot through her shoulder. A gag turned her stomach. All her limbs would have shattered if she hadn't caught herself. Her left hand joined the first on the board, transfixed by the touch of icy metal and snow. But her fingers slipped inexorably.

"No, no, no…” she mumbled through clenched teeth.

Until she let go.

Her buttocks landed first, the snow taking part of the fall. But that didn't stop her legs from hitting the sidewalk hard. Her body begged to lie still. To not move. Blood pounded in her temples, while an icy breath crossed her chapped lips. How good it would be to close her eyes and feel nothing. But the voice of her pursuers immediately put her back on her bruised legs.

"You're going to wake up the whole neighborhood!" 

Windows in the surrounding buildings lit up with candles, alerted by the noise. Some shutters opened. But most remained closed, as if the inhabitants were trying to escape the danger from outside.

"Help!"

Her words bounced into the void. The wizards came closer and closer. Which way did they come down? No time to think, no time to wait for help. Her feet had to start running again, despite the pain. Unfortunately, she didn't know this part of London: every street seemed a labyrinth.

Faustine slipped on a patch of black ice, which made her turn at a crossroads. She caught herself in extremis so as not to fall, just as another bolt of red lightning streaked across the sky to burn a lock of her hair. Out of breath, she straightened up and rushed into the new alleyway. Her feet pounded the ground, shaky but holding firm. A groan caught in her throat as she spotted a wooden palisade standing in her way. The footsteps of her enemies reached her ears. Turning back was impossible. She took a short breath before jumping. She slid down the fence, but her hands caught painfully on the edge of the wooden planks. Her right shoulder shot with pain again. Without paying any attention, Faustine pulled herself up as fast as she could, before landing crouched on the other side. She winced as she felt a snap in her leg. Get back on your feet, get back, get back!

But the palisade exploded right behind her, dragging the girl along in its blast. She screamed in surprise, thrown forward. Her face crashed into the snow. Her trembling hands immediately tried to pull her to her feet. Stand up.

"We've got you at last.”

Faustine turned towards the pursuers, still lying down, crawling away.

"Please..."

Her back jerked as she hit a wall. Her face sank: a dead-end. 

"I won't say anything," she begged once more, "I have nothing to say to anyone, I'm nobody."

Her suffocating respiration was the only thing she held on to. A breath.

Both wizards raised their wands.

"Please..."

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

They pointed in her direction.

"Please..."

Inhale. Exhale.

"Avada kedavra!"

Inhale.

Faustine's body instinctively folded in on itself, ready to receive the blow.

A crackle. A bang.

Everything went black.

Rays of sunlight seeped through the windows to caress her face. The scent of plants hung softly in the air. Gradually, ambient noises reached her: rapid footsteps on the wooden floor, muffled speech, the rustle of leaves. Faustine opened one eye.

The first thing she saw was a white ceiling. She turned her head back onto the pillow she was resting against. To the right, a half-closed shutter on a high window let in the sun. To the left, a few peonies slumbered in a vase, surrounded by medicine-scented bottles. A small basin of water stood on the wooden bedside table, along with linen and bandages. In the corner of the room, a lonely wooden chair lay.

The girl winced as she tried to sit up. Her whole body ached. As she tried to move her right arm, she realized that it was wrapped in a scarf, which passed behind her neck. Abandoning the idea of using it, her second hand palpated her face. Faustine ran her fingertips over her  forehead, down her left eye, then down her cheek to her neck. Her heart began to palpitate. Bandages.

The basin suddenly began to shake, startling her, then stopped. Faustine remained motionless for a few seconds, staring at the copper bowl that seemed to tell her she'd just been dreaming. Hesitantly, she raised a hand timidly towards her bedside table. The object remained in its place. What did you expect?

Until it moved in her direction. It was so slight that she couldn't believe her eyes. Her mouth half-opened astonished. Then a pain in the back of her head jolted her to life.

Suddenly, the door to her room opened, and a young woman in a gray dress with a white apron appeared. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a tight bun, while a white hat sat delicately on her head. A few strands of hair fell over her softly pale face. A gentle smile widened on her pink lips. 

"Are you awake?"

She swiftly turned and tapped a nurse passing in the corridor behind her.

"Tell Doctor Harding to come and see the patient in room 32."

Finally, she approached the bed, her arms laden with linen and bandages. Faustine couldn't help but recoil at her approach. The nurse stopped dead in her tracks.

"It's all right, you're safe here.”

She placed her belongings on the sheets.

"I'll have to change your bandages."

Her voice was gentle, but firm. It wasn't a question. Docile, Faustine relented. The young woman then set about removing the pins holding the bandages around her head. One by one, she gently unwound them. Unlike the new ones, these were yellowed and spotted with red marks. As soon as the bandages covering her left eye were removed, she could see fully again. Her blond hair slipped in contact with her mutilated skin, making her shudder.

"Can I... can I see myself?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

The nurse frowned, not in annoyance, but in concern.

"I don't know if it's advisable to... The doctor will come..."

"Please."

Faustine held the end of her sheets tightly, trembling. The young woman withstood her pleading looks for a few seconds, before giving in. She placed the basin on the Faustines lap. The girl’s gaze dipped into the reflection.

The scar began on her forehead, before reaching her left eyelid. Then from dark circles came two lines, one running down to her chin and ending in a curl. The second scribbled three arcs, crossing her entire cheek, descending a little further towards her ear, before zigzagging across her neck, divided into multiple strokes before ending.

Faustine sat still, staring again and again at the scar. Her eyes kept gliding over the loop, uncovering something new with each pass. Half her face was disfigured. Above the reflection of her head, she noticed a crucifix towering over her, hanging on the wall.

"What happened to me?"

"... We thought you might be able to shed some light on the matter."

The door opened again as the young woman finished pinning the last bandage. An older man, with brown hair plastered to his head and a beardless chin, stood upright in the doorway. A leather-bound notebook, aged by time, stood in his steady hand.  The nurse immediately stood up.

"I've finished, Doctor. I'll leave you with her."

"Thank you."

Faustine didn't have time to thank the nurse in turn before she had already left, closing the door. The doctor approached swiftly.

"My name is Dr. Harding. I'm the one who took care of you during your convalescence. Glad to see you awake."

He pulled out the wooden chair calmly to sit opposite the bed. Faustine sure wasn't used to such benevolence, especially in the space of fifteen minutes.

The doctor's voice was warm, deep and well timed as he spoke again. Faustine found herself thinking that he would have made a good singer. 

"Your situation has been stabilized. You have a sprain in your arm, which should recover in a few weeks with rest. Your pelvis and legs are riddled with superficial wounds, requiring only a few days' immobility for a full recovery. Your facial wound came very close to blind your eyeball, but thank goodness your left eye was spared."

Faustine assimilated this information without flinching. The doctor then opened his notebook and took a pen from his jacket.

"I'm now going to ask you a few questions."

The girl swallowed, her voice still hoarse.

"Name?"

"Faustine. Faustine Daemon."

Fortunately, no remark was made about her too un-Catholic name.

"Age?"

“Fifteen."

"Place of residence?"

Her throat went dry.

"St. Maria-the-Bow Orphanage."

The pen didn't stop tracing black lines on the yellowed pages.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

Faustine narrowed her eyes, trying to put her memories together like puzzle pieces.

"I left the orphanage... and wandered the streets. I found myself... er... in a park. No, in front of Mr. Callan's bookshop. And I..."

The burning books. The slap. Her legs tumbling down the stairs. The cold biting her skin. The moon shining in the night. From there, her memories cracked more and more, until they ended in little pieces.

"... I don't know."

The pen stopped dead on the page. Doctor Harding raised his head, scratching his chin.

"Don't blame yourself for this. You've had a shock and a concussion. I wanted to find out how far back your memory went, but it seems that some of it has escaped you.”

"Will I regain my memories?"

"Only time will tell."

The notebook closed with a snap. The doctor leaned forward, as if about to confide something.

"Neighbors found you unconscious, alone in the street, in the middle of the night. Apparently, they were alerted by screams. You were found in a pitiful state, but fortunately you were quickly taken to our hospital. We suspect an assault with a knife, from the look of the wound on your face."

Faustine digested this new information, trying to paste it back together with her memories, in vain. She shivered as her fingertips touched the bandages. What happened to me?

"I've prescribed two weeks' rest, we'll see how you recover. You're malnourished, which may lengthen the time of your recovery. You'll have to take medicine morning and night, and eat well to regain your strength. The police may come to question you, and an investigation should be opened."

"The police?"

"Don't worry, they’re here to help you. Just answer what you know."

The man rose from the chair, before grabbing the door handle.

"Right, I'll let the director of your orphanage know you're here."

The next day, the police did indeed come : Faustine told them everything she knew about the attack, which wasn't much. Even the neighbors had gathered more information. Those who had found her unconscious had heard her cry for help. Two silhouettes of men had been identified, but everyone was too far away to describe them. Faustine wasn't much help at this point.

From the look on the police officers' faces, the case would be dropped. No one wants to waste time investigating an orphan and two vanished thugs.

As soon as they had left, Faustine's throat was dry from all the talking, she wanted to help herself to the glass of water on the table. But no sooner had she thought of this than it came right up to the rim, threatening to fall to the ground.

This sort of thing started happening more and more every day. Whenever she was alone, objects began to move. The shutters opened in the morning to let in the soft glow of the sun, the sheets covered her up to her shoulders when she shivered with fever, the chair turned towards her as if to watch over her when she felt lonely. Only the crucifix above her head remained peaceful.

No plausible explanation came to mind for all this. Except that she was really going mad.

The days passed slowly. Faustine's legs almost fully recovered, and her arm was on the mend. Her scar had not become infected, the wound now stabilized. The nurses removed the bandages for good, judging that they were no longer needed. However, the doctor confirmed that she would remain scarred  for life.

On the morning of the tenth day, the bedroom door slammed against the wall as it suddenly opened. Instead of a nurse or the smiling face of Dr. Harding, viper's eyes hidden behind rectangular glasses darted in the direction of the patient's scar. Miss Robertson's wrinkled face immediately grimaced with disgust.

"This time, for sure. No one will want you anymore."

An invisible punch struck Faustine's chest.

The director inspected the small room around her, sniffing. The empty chair invited her to sit down, but she deliberately ignored it.

"I suppose the Lord has punished you enough for your insolence. Nevertheless, don't think that everything will be forgotten when you return to the orphanage. You'll have so many tasks to complete that you won't even think of running away."

Faustine wanted to cover her ears. Every word exuded nothing but contempt. Worse, reality had really caught up with her: the director was right. She was nothing outside the bars of the orphanage. A single night out had landed her in a hospital, disfigured. If there had been any hope of adoption, it was now gone. No one would want a crazy, mutilated thief.

"The doctor said you'll be home in two days."

With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Two days.

Two days before returning to the routine of the orphanage.

Two days before returning to the low masses, the chores, the punishments, the hopeless prayers. Her books now ashes, she'd never set foot outside again until she came of age, and then - and then what?

Magic didn't exist, nothing could save her from this fateful destiny, all because her parents hadn't wanted her.

No one will want you.

Her head bowed and her fingers clutched at the sheets, Faustine bit her lips and fought a sob in her throat. Objects around her began to shake, subtly at first, before threatening to fall. The glass on the bedside table cracked, the shutters slammed, the flowers lost their petals, the chair crunched to the floor. Faustine felt Christ's gaze burn her back. She turned sharply to unhook him from the wall and raised her arm, ready to throw him. Red-eyed, holding back tears, her body trembled like the whole room, like a heart in unison. Her skin broke as she clutched the cross so tightly in her hands. Breathing hard, she was about to throw away the sacred object, before finally changing her mind. The room stopped shaking. She turned it over in her hands to observe Christ's wounded expression, bleeding on his cross. A tear rolled down her wounded cheek before falling onto his face. With her back bent and her shoulders slumped, Faustine could no longer stop tears from flowing.

"I'm sorry." she murmured between hiccups.

She didn't know to whom she was apologizing.

There was only one day left. Faustine rested, head buried in the pillow. All she wanted was to enjoy these last few hours of calm. The sun's rays caressed her skin. Her sleep was constantly disturbed by nightmares, a mixture of screams, blows and green lightning. It all seemed far too real. Even her imagination had decided to abandon her.

Someone knocked on the door, causing her to open her eyes.

"You have a visitor." announced a nurse.

A man of advanced years, dressed in a strange blue and brown jacket, stepped into the doorway. He wore a blue scarf studded with arabesques and stars. His gray hair and wrinkled face made him look wise, but not hard, unlike Miss Robertson. Unlike her, his gaze glanced distractedly at the orphan without seeming to see her. The nurse left them alone.

"Sorry for my lateness," he muttered. "Professor Weasley asked me to come and welcome you, but I've been caught up with business at the Ministry and haven't seen the time. All for the sake of trivialities, once again..."

He stopped short in his tirade as Faustine stared at him with two big round eyes. She had never seen this man before. It was the first time she'd seen anyone dressed like that, even in London. 

Her gaze moved from his jacket to his brown vest, leather sleeves and beautifully patterned scarf. When he spoke again, she feared she'd been rude to spy on him like that.

"Anyway, none of this is important, and I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Professor Eleazar Fig, I teach magical theory at Hogwarts. You must be Faustine Daemon?"

A familiar feeling, coming from she didn't know where, made her shudder as she assimilated so much information at once, all missing a little more meaning. She wished she could have paused the conversation to try and understand these terms. Hogwarts? Magic theory? And where did he know her name from? This name, pronounced with no hatred in his voice.

As if reading her mind, said professor grabbed a letter from inside of his jacket, before handing it to her.

"This should be able to enlighten you."

Hesitantly, Faustine reached for the envelope with a limp hand, her right arm having almost recovered. Her hand folded in on itself, as if she feared burning herself as she reached for the paper, before taking it with her fingertips under the old man's warm smile. The wax seal showed an "H", surely for the name of the school. She gently broke it to open the contents.

Her eyes roamed the black lines, her heart beating faster and faster with each word.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student.

Term begins on 1 September.

Preliminary supplies have been collected for you and will accompany you on your journey to the castle.

As you may be aware, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery prohibits the use of magic by those under the age of seventeen outside the school. However, due to your unique circumstances, the Ministry has graciously agreed to allow Professor Eleazar Fig to help you hone your spell-casting before escorting you from London to the castle for the start-of-term feast and the Sorting Ceremony.

Yours sincerely,

Professor Weasley

Deputy Headmistress

The emblem at the top of the letter depicted a lion, a snake, a badger and an eagle, surrounding the letter H. Faustine's fingers were gripping the paper so tightly they were turning white. The professor was about to speak again, but she was quicker:

"Is this a joke?"

The old man's gray eyebrows furrowed.

"I beg your pardon? Why would it be?"

The orphan's whole body began to tremble. The letter crumpled under her clammy hands.

"Please," she begged, "if it's a bad joke, say so now. If... if this is false hope…"

These last words ended  with a sob. Why was this happening now? Why, after resigning to dream  of a better life, after having been told all these years  that she wasn't good enough for anything, was she being told that she was a student at a magic school? The very thought would earn her at least fifteen strokes at the orphanage.

Professor Fig glanced at the closed door.

"Perhaps an example is more telling."

A slightly twisted wooden wand appeared in his age-stained hand. With the other, he picked up the empty glass beside the bed. He twirled the tip of the wand just once in the air, and a jet of water plunged from it into the container. It all happened so fast that Faustine thought she was daydreaming. He reached for the glass, but before she could grab it, he dropped it. When it should have spilled onto the sheets, it just hung there. She stared at it, not daring to touch it for fear of breaking the spell. Nevertheless, she passed a hand over and under the glass, to check that no threads were hanging from it.

"So... it's true?" she murmured. "But... Why isn't anyone talking about it? Why does everyone seem to fear just the mention of magic?"

The professor coughed in embarrassment.

"The Wizarding world and the Muggle world - the world of non-magical beings - are two very distinct things. We live in hiding, because we're... well... not very well received."

Faustine thought back to the orphanage, the prayers, the witchcraft associated with the Devil and all the torments of Earth. Yet here, in front of her, magic had never seemed so benevolent.

"Ever since I've been in the hospital, I've been seeing objects move around me. I... I thought I was crazy."

"Not at all, my child. They're just fragments of the magic inside you. A far greater power awaits you, with a little practice."

My child. Her eyes moistened at the mention.

"But why now?"

"According to your doctor, you seem to have experienced a, uh... assault," he continued carefully, lest he hurt her feelings. "This traumatic event may have awakened your dormant powers. Your name appeared in the Book of Admittance on the night of the event. By the way..."

His gaze fell for the first time on her scar. But no disgust contorted his features.

"... Sure you were told it was a knife assault, however, the shape of your wound hints of its magical nature. I'm afraid you've met some dark wizards."

At these words, images of green and blue lightning battled in her mind, causing a sudden migraine. It was all too blurred to make any sense of it, but that might explain her nightmares.

"Let me reassure you," the professor added, "that you won't have to deal with those kinds of individuals at Hogwarts. The school is protected by powerful spells that prevent anyone with malicious intent from attacking our students. Not to mention our teachers, each more powerful than the last, will defend you.”

"And Miss Robertson? The director of my orphanage?"

He winced at the mention.

"I met this charming lady before coming to see you. As she's your legal guardian, I had to inform her about the magical world and your nature as a witch. She looked like she was going to chase me off with a crucifix. But she can't interfere with wizarding law. She's the only one who knows this secret, and knows the consequences of revealing  it to anyone.”

"Does this mean I won't be living in the orphanage anymore?" she asked, hopeful.

"Only during summer vacations though, and until you come of age. But during the school year, you'll be living at Hogwarts, in the house to which you'll be sorted."

Faustine lowered her head at this announcement. While she was delighted to be able to escape the nuns for more than half the year, she would still have to go back. But it was a good start. She'd never expected so much.

As she wanted to ask more, so many questions rising in her head at once, but Professor Fig spoke to her calmly again:

"If it suits well with you, I'll be your mentor for the next few months between now and the start of the new school year. I'll teach you the basic spells, provide you with history books on the wizarding world, everything you need to catch up to your peers and start the fifth year in peace."

If that suits me? Why wouldn't it suit me? All her life, she'd hoped such a moment would come. While she waited for parents to free her from the burden of orphanhood, here she was, thrust back into her beloved fantasy books. She would be able to live in a castle, meet magical creatures, surrounded by students who were just like her. Wizards.

Her voice trembled with excitement, eyes brimming with tears.

"It does."

She believed in magic again.

Thank you so much for reading this far. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it 🫶 it was a great adventure, and I'm happy with the result 🥹Thanks again to @alsopartgekkos for your precious help ✨ I'd love to know what you think, so please don't hesitate to leave a comment 💙

PS: english isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes!

[spotsupstuff]

I wanna learn more about Blessing / Boreas. What’s up with all the bat flies with him? What’s his city like?

-rubs my hands together like a fly- uuuuuu boy, time to shake my blatantly favorite child Hell yeah huhuhuhuhuuu

the batflies enter the scene a good while after the Mass Ascension- they are his coping mechanism after Zephyr collapses and goes dark!

from the comic where they talk about Euros' n Sparrows' relationship, one can probably guess how close these two are. Boreas might be the big scary dog of the whole Eo family that punches things in the face rather than take any miniscule amount of shit, but when it comes to Zephyr he is very open and sweet. she's the only person who can actually influence his opinions and ideas greatly, because he loves and trusts her enough to allow her to do so. so when she collapses, he takes it the worst out of everyone. in a very quiet way. his pain if for him to keep, nobody else can know he's hurting

bear witness to Ňuňu

this lil shit was basically Boreas' therapy dog. just.. very very feckin teeny

child...

she is as smart as your typical bat, but the thing was that when she accidentally made her way into his chamber, he didn't have much will in himself to send the animal to eeby deeby so she got to flutter about. and as animals do, girlie used the empathy trap card to figure out this person who doesn't seem to be posing any danger is Sad. so she landed on his head, crawled up to look into his eyes and chirped

n that was the straw that broke the camel's back and Boreas had his first grief-inflicted breakdown ever. Ňuňu stayed during it and even after it, so emotionally-empty-feeling Boreas decided to take her in. hardly can replace Zephyr, but at least he isn't alone

Ňuňu later brought friends and Bee decided that he will look after them then. even after Ňuňu passes away, he still houses and raises them. the younglings like sleeping on his antennas so he has to watch himself to not move them too much sometimes. Euros has a folder full of photos like that

to his city- the name kush is:

originally from me looking for latin words for Rage. ended up going with Desaevio, because Bee is indeed positioned in a fitting place for the word

and the storm connection plus the last two are the main reasons why the Ancients called the city as such. after project Abet Zephyr ended in such a failure, they had to vent some stuff out. and we are going to claim that it is anger because that isn't as pitiful as shame or embarrassment

(the fact that almost every translator i put it into gives me "i'm sorry" works wonderfully, too. because what else will ultimately Boreas do, but quietly mutter to himself a mantra of apologies when he'll be lying in his chamber 30 seconds from his death, drowning in his regrets and mistakes?)

Desaevio was capable of comfortably supporting over 5 million people (no other Iterator city ever reaches that far- the max is ambitious Gen 3 cities that only ever reached around an estimate of 2.7 million) but at times housed over 6-7 million. despite lying close to the geographical location of Bergen in real life, Desaevio is very far from reaching such nice vibes (the old towns Boreas' structure overshadows come close, though). it is way closer to New York, but more dystopian. if u look up dystopian city on google images u get to see pretty closely what it looked like. combine it with Coruscant from star wars for bonus authencity with the layering

made up of skyscrapers, with endless layered bridges for means of transport (most commonly expres trains), with what little decoration of the buildings chipped away by time without anybody caring enough to restore the beauty- the grey, gloomy expanse of Desaevio is as majestic to witness as it is absolutely harrowing

with it being a layered city and one with Boreas' consciousness/structure, some wonder when does one truly leaves the borders of the city and enters the giant's actual insides. it's hard to tell, with old models of Iterators not being all that enclosed and isolated like Five Pebbles is. there is no karma gate to tell you when exactly the walls turn from homes for people to homes for wires, tubes and alien-like organic life of a colossal Hivemind

despite the whole "Iterators are above the cloud level" thing, i like to imagine that it rains in Desaevio either way. at least- some levels are just straight up Wet like after rain. but it'd be those normal rains like we have, not the annihilating ones that the old towns need to bear with down below. or maybe it's just the upper layers' waste water seeping through the ceilings

most of light of the lower levels comes from streetlights, neon signs and Boreas' own systems once deep enough

cameras and such security systems litter all the streets and every public room- and the private homes are still accessable by overseers- and All of that feeds directly into Boreas' memory cache

this omnipresence is why Boreas later suffers with the fuckin

nobody is as unhappy with Boreas' omnipresence as Boreas himself. no wonder he's always ticked off, imagine being a witness to All of New York's road rage 24/7