#putting this here as it doesn't fit into the fourth chapter but gives so much additional context!!

[nattyontherun]

Another draft taken from the heap of crumpled papers beside the bin of an office space in Roshchino, Leningrad Oblast:

My editor adores the boy-demon. My alpha readers, my fact-checkers - they all drown in his allure. What is it about beauty that prompts decent people to justify atrocity after atrocity? That my life was in danger is a given; that the boy had killed thousands before this interview and will live on to kill tens of thousands more after it…

Is it the tragic nature of the boys’ turning that so moves the rational thinker? That he was a fair-skinned child with a head of brush blonde hair and doll-like, seafoam green eyes?

Some call it a kind of grooming, a type of conditioning: Viktor as mentor and maker, Yuuri as lover and keeper, both acting as chain and grate to the lonesome Russian Fairy.

But Gosha, one sent him racing off a bridge and the other damned him to eternity! He was sixteen upon his death! Sixteen upon his turning!

Can we call the boy a murderer when it is the nature of a vampire to crave the blood of humans? He never asked to be made! He never asked for forever! His only fault is the love he harbors and where are those loves now? Both alive, yes - yet both of them hidden! Both of them so deep in the groves of each other, mere tourists to the destruction they wrought!

I say to you, reader, Viktor is a child's hopeless aspiration and Yuuri is a figment of that same child's gravid imagination! Sixteen, they say? The walking death is a being entrapped by the flesh-suit of his youth. He has not been sixteen in nearly three decades!

Read this and heed my warning: the demon cares little for your empathy. The demon has loved nothing more than the devils he dedicated his death to, and none of us qualify to pretend ourselves of equal value.

-

-

-

For more context, the rest of the AU can be found here: your spirit pressed up against my longing

[danganronpa-theories-v3]

Is Shuichi the mastermind of V3?

I've had a few thoughts about four chapters and Shuichi's involvement in them.

FIRST CHAPTER So, the first case had an unreliable narrator as Kaede. While playing the game for the first time, Shuichi felt like a really good and reliable guy to me but after analyzing the game again and looking at other people's theories, I think Shuichi might be strongly connected to the mastermind to the point of being one. A detail that strucks out about Shuichi is his parents being an actor and a screenwriter. This is important considering the game's ending. I believe it means there's a possibility of him having good acting skills and feeling comfortable being a character in a "fictional" world. In the first chapter, Shuichi had quite a few opportunities to notice what Kaede has been up to.

He leaves her around shotput balls, soon-to-become murder weapons.

He had an opportunity to see that the books were put in a very strange fashion.

Clearly, he withheld information about the cameras from everyone including Kaede for no obvious reason.

It is very possible he messed the cameras up in some way (https://www.tumblr.com/fit-artichoke8738/649993708004130816/problems-with-the-library-cameras-drv3-ch-1).

SECOND CHAPTER The most suspicious thing about the second chapter was the way Ryoma died. I suppose there's no arguments against Kirumi being the killer but did she kill Ryoma the way Shuichi said she did? https://youtu.be/HXuq50Bt6PE?t=341 - Monosuke here even touches on the topic of the cause of death although in the usual wacky way. Monosuke has a "slip-up" in which he says it was practically impossible to put the body in the piranha tank - you had to lean through the window and that would count as breaking the rules. All that when other characters emphasize that the trick would work only if someone carefully put the body in the piranha tank. Ryoma had a crack on his skull. Could Kirumi have killed him with one blow and leave his body without any other manipulations, and then someone decided to make things more interesting? Perhaps, to give Shuichi another chance to shine as a detective?

THIRD CHAPTER Korekiyo's behavior during the third trial was a bit suspicious. Korekiyo acted as if he didn't remember killing Angie or perhaps didn't do it at all. He was ready to prove his innocence till his dead sister persona told him to "admit defeat", otherwise he would probably try to defend himself further - and that's already after the Closing Argument! But he wasn't really nervous nor did he put much of a fight when the students suspected him in killing Tenko. You can say he simply realized he isn't going to be executed for this but obviously killing Tenko would make him the prime suspect in Angie's murder, especially if he knew he used the same floorboard to kill both of the girls. I think another thing a lot of people already noticed is that Korekiyo only asks about what would happen if there are two blackened after the second murder already happened. and he does it in front of everyone. And he doesn't even get the answer at that moment because Monokubs (seemingly) didn't expect this to happen at all - this to me outrules the possibility Kiyo asked about this before. Korekiyo also is the first one to say "We should investigate Tenko's death as well, just in case" after it's revealed only the Angie's killer is the blackened, basically asking to be outed as her murderer and possibly appreciated as one, with his genius seesaw trick and all. Before the Closing Argument, Shuichi says, "Kiyo..I want you to confess! No…I will force you to confess!". Sounds strange if we consider the possibility Kiyo might not have anything else to confess for.

FOURTH CHAPTER The 4th chapter… something tells me Shuichi had a hand in Miu's murder. One of the most suspicious things is how Kaito was the last to appear when everyone's logged out. He said, "What's this all about!? What was that body discovery announce-" when there was no body discovery announcement. It is EXTREMELY suspicious that he knew someone was dead beforehand. He even goes on to repeat that obvious lie, saying "when that body discovery announcement woke me up, I rushed over here". For some reason, Shuichi doesn't question this one. After Shuichi said he was going to reveal the culprit, Kokichi says, "Even if the culprit is Kaito?". Is Kaito the culprit?

@fit-artichoke8738 theorized about the possibility of Body Swapping (https://www.tumblr.com/fit-artichoke8738/648228491354144768/body-swapping-in-the-virtual-world-drv3-ch4). As far as I recall, Miu didn't specify at the beginning that you can log out as anyone, so that makes not mentioning that you can log in as anyone less improbable. https://youtu.be/LVrHupB88y4?t=2880 - In this sequence (Gonta bringing the bridge), we see events not only through Shuichi's perspective, something that the game didn't do very often. What was the reason for that? During the trial, Kokichi was quite angry at Gonta, pressuring him to make solid arguments to defend himself. Some people say Kokichi just wanted to kill everyone after he had the card key and saw what the "real world" was like. But he also said (in yellow, mind you) that he wants to live with his super angry sprite. If this line was genuine, then why would he pressure Gonta to defend himself so much? Perhaps because Kokichi thought that Gonta might not actually be the culprit?

This first line came after Miu explained everything. Isn't Gonta smart enough to at least listen to what Miu just told everyone? Maybe I'm wrong but this bit feels like someone putting on an act. The second line - and then again, Gonta questioned something that was explained a few seconds ago.

So these chapters have these questionable moments that make me think Shuichi has something to do with the game's mastermind if he isn't one to begin with.

[bengiyo]

Moonlight Chicken Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Can you believe we're getting double doses of Aof shows now each week? Yesterday, we were treated to possibly the best opening we've ever had in BL. We have a sense of the dynamics of the restaurant and the way the financial crunch of the pandemic is hurting this town. We know that Uncle Jim is gay, and down to clown with Wen, but only casually. Li Ming doesn't seem happy about his current circumstances, and is now. wrapped up with the deaf son of a local police official. Alan (First Kanaphan) is so notable in his absence that we all were thinking about him. Mark Pakin and Khaotung continue to deliver phenomenal performances from supporting roles.

I'm so curious about Leng coming along with the restaurant.

I love the way Mark moves.

Wen just got here and already is like, "I am persistent."

"Chapter 2: The Temporary Chicken Rice"

I like the vibe Praew is giving off. Curious if this lotto thing is foreshadowing or world building.

Fourth feels so different as Li Ming.

Li Ming has to have thoughts about his uncle's fling suddenly working for them.

Uncle Jim and Li Ming seem to have a tense relationship.

So Heart doesn't have anyone to speak to because his parents haven't learned sign? No wonder he was driven to drinking.

Curious about why Heart took the photo.

Earth being allowed to play older characters is such a sexy move by Aof. He even gets to be funny!

Ah, yes, let's see Leng, Gaipa, and Praew together. These three are so comfortable on film.

I hope Khaotung being in love with either Earth or Mix continues as a bit far into the future. Gaipa is being nice, but he is definitely here to check out the competition.

Fourth joins the ranks of the fit boys we find excuses to strip.

I do like that we're drawing attention to Thai pronouns and how some of them have a familial context. Jim is younger than Li Ming's mom, so I think he would normally use "Ar"

There's a lot seemingly weighing on Li Ming. He clearly seems stressed about affording school in Bangkok, and seemingly has no interest in girls. He also seems to be struggling in his English classes, and seems to project a lot of this onto his uncle.

I think this tv sequence is the first time we've seen Li Ming seemingly relaxed so far.

I figured Praew was going to be pregnant with the eating earlier. Curious that they came to Jim with this problem. Does everyone go to their local gay uncle when they have problems?

Jim is doing such a bad job of keeping Wen at arm's length.

Omg the face journey Mix just took us on when he realized that Li Ming doesn't feel like he can talk to Jim about his desire to travel.

Fourth can smolder. I'm glad he worked with Mix on this show, because you can feel his brewing attraction to Heart.

Mark Pakin just made me cry. When they say acting is reacting, they're talking about Saleng's face dropping in awe when he realized that Jim actually did come through and help him. You could see the relief and thanks wash over him. He thought he was alone with this big situation, but Jim threw him a lifeline.

Wen is clearly fond of this behavior.

"I'm giving you your reward." This feels like something Aof put in from all the BL kids teasing him and always trying to hug him.

"Get serious with someone. Kill your loneliness...I can't stay with you forever you know?" Gosh this felt so gentle and caring.

I like the price of 3000 THB as compensation (roughly $89.33 USD). How you feel about that amount of money says a lot about where you sit.

Jim saw the potential for Wen to be with someone else and instantly retreated.

I like that Aof knew the 1000 stars fans were not going to put up with Mix and Earth making fuck-me eyes at each other all month waiting for payoff. This is much more intriguing.

I kinda hope we don't learn what made Jim give up on love for himself.

Next week we learn about Jim's homophobic sister, confirm that Fourth does the chin thing on his own, and I hope to the gods we see First.

[lunammoon]

⭐ !!

I was going to post this in the author’s notes of chapter 56, but I can post it here and then link back to this post when relevant..

So, this probably doesn't surprise anyone who's read any Doctor Who Time Jumper fic ever, but in early drafts (like, after Marion had a name, but before I had solidified what Marion's ACTUAL backstory was) Marion was a Time Lady.

She wasn’t from Gallifrey or anything. The house in which she’d grown up inside of had been on top of a Cardiff-style rift and since she’d been conceived there, there were some consequences.

I ended up scrapping it for a couple of reasons.

The first is that I was having trouble making Marion's other regenerations fleshed out in a way that they felt distinct from Marion the First (that's how the naming scheme would've been. First Doctor, Romana I, Marion the First).

But I did have some rough ideas about what they would’ve been like, and I MIGHT draw them later. But here’s what we’ve got:

Marion the First would've been basically the Marion in the fic. You know her you love her. Except she wasn’t as anxious.

Marion the Second would've been a 6' 5" woman with curly ginger hair and she would've been slightly paranoid and somewhat clumsy. She would also jokingly put an elbow on some version’s of the Doctor’s shoulder and head while talking as payback from the Doctor doing it to her when she was 16 inches shorter. Compared to Marion the First’s more causal whatever fits in and is comfortable to style, Marion the Second tended to dress a little bit more formally. In my notes, I compared the Marion the First’s style more to Nine or Four or Season 10 Twelve and the Marion the Second’s sense of style more to theThree or Romana I and II.

Marion the Third would've been a man with a sort of medium build and shaggy blonde hair who was constantly in thought and acted more or less like Romana I as far as trying to keep the Doctor in line. He was a bit more serious that the First and the Second and I have in my notes that he was a "bit of a buzzkill". A lot more of a stickler for doing things by the rules on the grounds that if you don’t deviate much from the rules, then if you do have to deviate, it’ll be easier to know what was going on than you would if surrounded by chaos. He would say all this with a sense of fashion comparable to Four and Eleven on a good day and Six on most days.

Marion the Fourth would've been a very goofy and peppy and energetic person with short black hair who was fiercely protective over the people in the TARDIS. I also never would've made it clear which assigned gender they had. When asked what his gender was, she would respond with some variation of "yes", "guess" or "pick one" and simply answer to whichever pronouns the person they talking to decided to use for her because having regenerated from a woman to a man made him completely apathetic to gender as a concept and so they genuinely didn't give a shit what pronouns people used for her as long as he could tell they were referring to him. Her fashion sense wasn’t particularly androgynous but would sort of fluctuate wildly between masculine and feminine styles depending on what he grabbed ahold of first.

(I probably would've referred to Marion the Fourth in narration with they/them instead of alternating around like I did in that paragraph because I fear it would get confusing otherwise.)

I didn’t get to come up with Marion the Fifth because it was around this point in my journal that I got a BETTER idea and instead kept Marion the First, who was the most well-developed of them all, and gave her some of the more interesting traits from the other three.

[mechanicalinertia]

STMPD Recommends Black Lagoon Fanfiction: Ragna Crimson's Bullets

Oh. You didn't notice? Over the past two months or so I've gotten really into Black Lagoon. Like, to the point that I'm working on a BGC crossover fic with the franchise. The Knight Sabers in Roanapur... whatta concept.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about! That can wait! Instead, I'm trying to get my creative mojo back by talking about a fanfic I just finished reading last night, but which is unfinished, and oh boy it's a blast. That's the only adjective which fits Bullets: A blast.

Look, I think the author summarizes it perfectly in the FF.net description, anyway:

We are moving away from murky, emotionally strong stories and dark plots. This story is about a bunch of characters doing crazy shit, where anything can happen.

So. Lot of people, specifically those in the Lagoon fandom, like Black Lagoon for the murky emotionally strong stories and dark plots. And Ragna Crimson, who seems to speak Spanish as his first language (Bullets is in both languages), is acknowledging that. Okay. Good.

But... Crimson also is 'moving away from that'. Which is an interesting challenge, because as much as the fandom likes the dark stuff in Lagoon, plenty of people who are just anime fans seem to find those parts... annoying? The parts where Revy goes ranting about how the world has no kindness and all one can do is keep on killing because otherwise you'll be killed in turn? Yeah. Those parts. I've always held that as much as they tell us a lot about the franchise's philosophy - which I don't necessarily track with all the time - they tell us more about Revy and how she's put herself in this nihilistic hole that's just as bad as Rock's own naivete, as if both characters' morality is more their own thing than it is a gospel truth. Well. Whatever. Moving on. We have to move on, because Bullets doesn't give a shit about any of that.

It is, after all, a story about a bunch of characters doing crazy shit where anything can happen.

Which... isn't that when Lagoon's at its best, anyway? Larger-than-life characters with big guns, pulpy people doing pulpy things? And that is the essence of Bullets. More than that - Bullets distills and amplifies that devil-may-care sense of things. It's action, yes, but it's also nonstop comedy of a sort.

Anyway! The plot. Rock doesn't want to stay with the Lagoon Company, so he decides to be a bartender for Bao at the Yellow Flag, despite the fact that said bar gets destroyed in almost every arc of, well, everything. This seeking peace doesn't last long, though. First we've got a redux of the Roberta arc, and then Hansel and Gretel show up... only this time around, they're working (sort of) for Balalaika, and promptly slip her grasp to fuck shit up with grenades. By chapter four, they take mercy on Rock and agree to call him 'Boss' (Gretel wants to do it more than Hansel, and in fact constantly calls Hansel the more psychotic one. A change from canon - these two bicker incessantly). Only, they've, uh, blown up most of Hotel Moscow and Chang's base already. Including Balalaika's toilet specifically. Hansel blowing up toilets because he's bored, specifically Balalaika's toilets, becomes a running gag.

From there, the fic can be split up into various arcs where Rock and the Twins work with the Lagoon Company, Hotel Moscow, and the Triads to varying degrees. In one, they break a Triad boss from a Taiwanese prison by sneaking in through the sewers and also hosing the entire place down with a minigun. In another, the Washimine-gumi comes to Roanapur and Ginji immediately decides to get in a fight with Revy at Rowan's nightclub. And so on and so forth. You might call the whole series a remix of canon, with familiar locations and characters, but unfamiliar ways everything plays out.

Okay, so it's not entirely unfamiliar. If anything, the familiar is amplified. More swearing. More stupid jokes. A few instances of leaning on the fourth wall (calling other people 'side characters', Rock calling Revy tsundere to Ginji, one Bakemonogatari reference). More weird ambiguous romantic-ish feelings between Rock and Revy. And, uh, Rock's great in this one.

I mean, holy shit, folks. He's still the boy who can plan and / or talk his way out of any situation, no matter how ridiculous. And this time, his manipulative gambits actually pay off, and all the while he becomes more and more... villainous, I guess you might say. More and more of a thrill-seeker, willing to do not-great things for fun. More and more willing to tease Revy so they can have a nice bicker. Also, he helps the Lagoon Company sink an entire cargo ship run by Koko Hekmatyar (from Jormungand, the great and terrible We Have Black Lagoon At Home) using plastic explosives. So you start to root for Rock being less wishy-washy about where he's at in life, and hoping that even when he does dumb shit he'll get away with it, the scamp. That's hard to do - get us to root for a character like that and not bemoan Rock's descent into the darkness - and yet Ragna Crimson does it!

In sum... Man. Fuck. I dunno. Read the fic. Some Black Lagoon fanfics make you think, some make you cry, some make you cringe, but few make you grin and laugh the way Bullets does. I guarantee it.

[iviarellereads]

Gideon the Ninth, Chapter 12

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Sixth House icon) In which something lost is found.

One morning, Teacher commends Gideon on fitting in, despite him having sat with her at some meals and knowing that she's definitely not. He's also said that he enjoys all the bustle, when he and Gideon were alone in the room.(1)

By now, Gideon has met nearly all the adepts and cavaliers, but all except Coronabeth and Magnus give her a wide berth. Still, you learn a lot, being silent. The Second House behave like soldiers forced into vacation. The Third seem to come together only because of Coronabeth's social gravity, like planets to her star. The Fourth are like ducklings to the Fifth. The Sixth and Seventh are never anywhere to be found. The Eighth duo, the uncle-nephew duo, Gideon sees only rarely, but that's more than enough, as they act like Gideon is contagious with something.

The corridor to the Ninth assigned living quarters is now garlanded with bones. Gideon left a note for Harrow asking what was with the skulls, and Harrow replied simply "Ambiance." That Ambiance means even Magnus hesitates to greet Gideon, so she wants to shove it somewhere uncomfortable.(2)

Dulcinea Septimus seems to spend all her time on various terraces, reading romance novels. Occasionally she spots Gideon and asks her to move a pillow or just to listen as she recounts the plot of the book she's reading. The sword is never again mentioned.

Gideon goes back to the training room often, even though she prefers to train by herself. She wouldn't need half of what she's done to join the Cohort, but she's always hoped she'd be rushed through and get sent to the front promptly with her skills and strength. Her fantasies about Harrow opening a letter detailing Gideon's medals and prize money and saying something like "Turns out Griddle could swing a sword after all" often get her through a hundred reps or more.

Still, no one can train every minute of the day, so she spends a lot of time wandering the Canaan House complex. A lot of places are blocked off, with CAUTION tape and crosses spray painted on blast doors. You can only go about fifty meters below the dock, and a hundred meters up. She doesn't get bored, exactly, the Ninth kills boredom out of one, but it makes her suspicious.

One morning, Harrow's pillow isn't freshly rumpled differently than it was the morning before, and there's no fresh layer of black clothes in the laundry hamper. Gideon makes guesses as to what might have happened.

1. Harrow had been prevented from coming home for reasons, e.g. that (i) She was dead; (ii) She was too impaired; (iii) She was busy. 2. Harrow had chosen to live elsewhere, leaving Gideon free to put her shoes on Harrow's bed and indiscriminately rifle through all her things. 3. Harrow had run away.

Gideon immediately dismisses option 3, because her childhood would've been MUCH smoother if Harrow were that type. 2 is exciting, but seems almost as unlikely. Harrow is too proper to let Gideon do up all the buttons on her shirts one button off in the wardrobe.(3)

This leaves only option 1. (iii) relies on Harrow being busy enough to forget to come back, which ties back into the dismissal of allowing for option 2. Harrow would never fail to account for Gideon's chaos gremlin-itude. (i) would be the world's happiest accident or murder, and if it was murder, what if the murderer was, like, weird, would that make Gideon's subsequent marriage to them awkward?(4) Maybe they could just exchange friendship bracelets instead.

In the end, (ii) seems the most likely. Harrow hasn't even used the paint supplies, and Gideon has never seen Harrow's naked face.

So it is that Gideon puts on her robe and starts searching. She finds Magnus in the chemical smelling pit room, supervising the skeletons cleaning it, with his trig and glossy-haired adept(5) but certainly no Harrow there so she darts back out before Magnus can finish greeting her. She's not on the terraces, or on the docking bay, or anywhere in the east wing.

At lunch, Gideon broods over her bread and cheese, and decides to give up. It's a futile task in such a large area. And really, it's Harrow's fault for being so secretive and controlling. She wouldn't even thank Gideon for finding her.

Only, by the time Gideon finishes eating, she gives up on giving up, and resumes the search.(6) She finds a door she can force open that she never tried before, leading to a staircase, leading to a precarious terrace, leading to another door, to a hallway, to a curious statue with no arms or head(7), in what may once have been a lobby with elevator access. Down a staircase in the corner of that room, she starts to hear another conversation.

Two people, the "Warden" and another, discuss whether something is impossible, or merely improbable. The Warden has scried the ages of some objects nearby each other, but one is nine thousand years old, and one is about fifty years old. The other voice protests that the limit of scrying is ten thousand years, but the Warden maintains that it's improbable that this object Gideon can't see is three thousand years older than this other object Gideon can't see.

"Inexplicable, Warden." "Certainly not. Like everything else in this ridiculous conglomeration of cooling gas, it's perfectly explicable, I just need to explic-it." "Indubitable, Warden."

The Warden decides that either the whole building was scavenged from a garbage hopper, or he's being lied to on a molecular level. There's something here, like in his fourth circle exams, when the masters seeded the core database with thousands of false records, to teach them a lesson: that you can't rely on anything, because anything can lie to you.(7)

By now, Gideon has snuck up close enough to see them. A rangy young man in a grey cloak, light glinting off the spectacles on his nose(8), and a tall, equally grey-wrapped young woman with a scabbard at her hip. Both are filthy, and twitchy. Unfortunately, Gideon has moved too close, and the sight of a painted skull face in dark robes in a dark corner can't be good for the heart. The cavalier stays absolutely still for a moment, then launches at Gideon, sword out. Gideon draws her arms quickly, and they fight. Gideon quickly realizes this is a true warrior, like herself, not a mere cavalier, and is exhilarated at their matched strengths, the cav even perhaps having a slight advantage.

The necromancer calls out "Camilla!" telling her to disengage. She does so, backing up toward her adept, who does something and makes a false flame wall between the two cavs until Gideon sheathes her rapier and puts up her hands in a ceasefire gesture.

The adept lowers the barrier, wiping bloody sweat from his brow, and chastises his cavalier lightly, then offers apologies to Gideon for the unscheduled bout but NOT for drawing on someone sneaking around in all black. Gideon wants badly to ask how the cav did a backflip down the stairs like that, but is asked if she's here about Nonagesimus, and the Sixth pair(9) read something into her blank expression. Face paint is great for masking.

The necro wrings his hands and asks if Gideon's seen Harrow since the night before last? Gideon shakes her head so emphatically she's surprised her hood doesn't fall off. The young man says she's cutting it fine. Harrow was down there(10) last night, and her blood is on the floor. Her intravenous blood.

At this clarification, something snaps in Gideon, and her body starts moving before the rest of her can catch up. She finds herself trying to lift the hatch, her arms embarrassingly not up to the task. The necro sighs explosively, tosses his bag to Camilla, and bemoans cavaliers. He says it won't open, because Harrow has the Ninth's key. This close, Gideon can see past his spaceflight-thick glasses to the perfect grey eyes behind them.

He had the eyes of a very beautiful person, trapped in resting bitch face.

Gideon keeps futilely trying to open the hatch, while the Warden explains that Harrow's blood hadn't dried yet when he saw it, so she's likely still close to life, and asks Cam to check the perimeter. She finds no sign Harrow left, so the Warden says she's still down there.

At this, Gideon finally breaks her silence and says "Then get off your ass and help me," and he sounds almost relieved when he says "Sure." Something flies through the air, and he fails to catch it, so Gideon gets a half decent look at a loop similar to the one she was given that first day, but with two keys on it. He picks them up, uses the longer one to open the lock on the hatch, and Gideon swings it open dramatically to reveal a ladder of metal staples in a long, dark hole.

Camilla points at the hole, and Gideon looks at her, again noticing her eyes which are not quite grey or brown, but unreflective and fathomless. Cam suggests Gideon go first, then Palamedes,(11) then herself.

At the bottom of the hole is a "retro installation" you'll have to read described for yourself. Palamedes leads the way, and Gideon notices that the sounds they make don't echo, are dulled by the paneling on the walls. There are signs indicating ten laboratories, a pressure room, preservation, mortuary, work rooms, and a sanitiser down various branches.

They head toward Sanitiser, and find blood smeared and splattered on the floor and walls. The trail leads inside the Sanitiser rooms, to a cocoon about the size of a person but made of bone. Gideon kicks it open to reveal Harrow.

Instead of the dance of joy she'd planned to greet Harrow's dead body with, she tells the Sixth she can take it from here. They ignore her, and check for life signs. All good, probably just some dehydration, a drop in blood pressure, and she made the cocoon (which Palamedes is absolutely fascinated by) defensively when she half woke up once, then went back to sleep.

Gideon asks if they can tell all that from Sixth necromancy. Camilla says it's not necromancy, just curative science. Doctor stuff. And Harrow can be moved now. Gideon slings Harrow over her shoulder, at which breath wheezes out of the tiny necromancer, and the cocoon shatters into chips and pebbles. Palamedes whips out a ruler and measures a piece of it before they leave.

At the top of the ladder, Cam takes Harrow's weight for a moment to let Gideon get out safely, then they close the hatch. Palamedes says she needs eight hours of sleep, in a bed not a library, and to tell Harrow she clinks when she walks if she asks how he knew she was in the library.

Gideon says she owes them one. Cam says they did it for free, and Palamedes agrees but asks Gideon to take some advice: it's dangerous down the hatch, and they should stop splitting their forces. Gideon asks how it's dangerous, Palamedes says if he knew why it was dangerous, it wouldn't be. Gideon doesn't understand this, and asks how he figures it. Palamedes replies, because he's the greatest necromancer of his generation.

The not-so-unconscious bundle on Gideon's shoulder mutters "Like hell you are."(12) Palamedes looks satisfied as he says he thought that would bring her around, and reminds Gideon: liquids and rest, and good luck to them.

=====

(1) This priesthood appears to have been alone here for years in isolation, Gideon, give them some credit. They probably do think Gideon's antisocial behaviour is social, and that having anyone new in Canaan House is a bustle. (2) Gideon would be so close to making actual friends if she could talk to anyone here. ;~; (3) Beautiful prank, no notes. (4) This may feel like a callback, but it's not. Muir's forming a habit of dropping you kind of in media res, in the middle or near the end of the thought, without showing you what led there. At any rate, this implies two things, imo: first, that Gideon would be so grateful to anyone who would rid her of Harrow that she might feel obligated to propose marriage in thanks; second, smaller, that Gideon still sees herself on some level as Harrow's property, as the spoils of war, belonging to the strongest, and that anyone who could defeat Harrow might win her as an object. Gideon undervalues herself consistently, and even her cocky thoughts are self-deprecating a lot of the time in the subtext. Just look at her comments about her ultimate fantasy being that Harrow might, one day, say she supposes Gideon could swing a sword in the correct direction. This series is like an onion on steroids. (5) Trig - neat and smart in appearance. (6) Again she says one thing and means the other. (7) Including the narrative. (8) Muir's watched some anime in her time, I see. If you're unfamiliar, TVTropes has you covered! (9) Remember, even if we weren't about to find this out for sure, the Dramatis Personae made this inevitable as we've met everyone else. Use every resource you have! (10) Presumably, down the hatch they're examining. (11) I used to pronounce this as "PAL-uh-ME-deez" in my head, but I guess the audiobooks say it closer to "calamities" because I heard it that way in a podcast of audio listeners and honestly I like it way more. One of these days, I'll convince my library to license the audiobooks on Libby, and hear for myself. Or get another free Audible credit trying to lure me back into a subscription I don't have because I don't listen to many audiobooks, and use it for this. Either way. (12) Nothing like being insulted to wake someone out of a half-coma.

[byuntrash101]

PARAPHILIA - Part 1

Pairing: Dom!Baekhyun x You

Genre: EstablishedRelationship!AU, slice of life, smuttt

Tags: strong dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, rough sex, degradation, name calling (slut is used a lot), deepthroat, body writing, toys and more~~

Raiting: +18 (more like 21+ 🤪)

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: Apparantly, the new intern has a crush on you. And it's making your boyfriend Baekhyun jealous... Very jealous...

A/N: First chapter💃!! I’m excited to show you this project! Never hesitate to give me feedback my asks are always open and seeing your reactions make me SO happy💖! I hope you’ll enjoy!! -Cat😽

Tag list: @lovebuginlove @ohh-baekhyun @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession ​ @geniusloey

Tell me if you want to be added/removed

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

Paraphilia #1 : SADISM, Inflicting pain to others.

W R O N G   F E E L S  R I G H T

"Aaaah" you say as you feel the hot tea on your tongue. It's jasmine green tea, your favorite. You sit there in the dining room enjoying the warm sun of the afternoon. It's so relaxing, so nice after a stressful week of work. The new intern is very nice, but god is he a handful. He's just always full of energy but at least he is willing and wants to learn properly. But forming him is quite tiring. So enjoying this quiet time here is nice.

"Babe can you come over here?" you hear the voice of your boyfriend resonate from upstairs. You sigh and frown, annoyed. But you still decide to go see him.

He's in his office, probably playing the piano or practicing his singing skills. He was in there since early morning. You never questioned his wacky sleep schedule. Like he always says: "inspiration doesn't wait". You knew that from the beginning... He's an artist.

You push open the door and he's there on his computer frowning. What's wrong? You ask yourself as you pick up right away that something is off. You walk closer and see he's on your Facebook profile.

"Who's that?" he asks without a glance to you, pointing a finger to the picture of a recently added friend.

"It's Taeyong the new intern, I told you about him" you say in a chuckle. So that's what's wrong with him. He's jealous, you think smiling.

"How do you find him?" he still doesn't look at you.

"Huh? I mean he is pretty smart which makes things easier, but overall, he has a lot to learn it's only normal when you are fresh out of school. I mean when I started, I-" but Baekhyun interrupts you.

"I don't mean it like this! Do you think he’s... attractive?" you can't help but laugh at the ridiculous question. Finally, Baekhyun looks at you but it's only to shoot you a death glare. You stop and bite your lips trying not to laugh again.

"I mean... Of course I can't say he's ugly but I-" Before you can continue your boyfriend rips the black bob off his head and throws it on the desk. He immediately brushes back his blond hair, running his fingers through it. You flinch. Shit, he's actually upset about this.

"What about this?" he switches to another tab on the computer. This time it's your Instagram page. He clicks on the most recent post. It's a selfie you posted last week when you went out with Baekhyun, you liked your makeup that day and thought it was instagramable.

"What about it?" You genuinely ask. Your boyfriend sighs, frustrated.

"TYdragon95, is it his username?" Baekhyun asks, his tone has changed from cold to angered, you swiftly look at him, he's clenching his jaw.

"Yes I suppose so, he was born in 1995, so yeah probably..."

"Yeah of course it's him... he liked every single one of your pictures..."

Baekhyun proceeds to scroll to the other photos and it's true. His username is under every single one of them.

"Well, no, he didn't like the pictures where we are together..." he says in a cynical tone. You stand there next to him, silent, what could you possibly reply? Baekhyun chuckles coldly.

"He's probably, right now imagining you under him, his hand in his pants..." he whistles between greeted teeth. You laugh nervously.

"Hyunie, don't be stupid... he's just a guy I work with" you say fidgeting with your fingers. You know this mood. You know how angry your boyfriend can get.

"Really? Huh?" Baekhyun says, finally getting up from his chair. He stands right in front of you, only a couple centimeters (1in) separate the both of you. You are intimidated. He's so much taller than you...

"Baekhyun, please" you say in a pleading tone while taking a step back. Baekhyun steps closer.

"Baby girl do you like him?" he says in a low husky voice, sending shivers down your spine. Once again, you step back and he steps closer. You step back again, and he follows you, making you backup against the cold wall of his office, almost falling on the drums on your left.

"Baekhyun don't be ridiculous... I-"

"FUCKING ANSWER ME!!!" he yells throwing his palm on the wall next to your face. Your breath is hitching your throat.

"No Babe! Of course, not. I only love you" you say your voice trembling.

"Is this true?" his tone is somewhat softer. He leans in, inching his face close to yours.

"Yes..." you say softly, almost whispering.

"Maybe I have to remind you who you belong to"

You feel goosebumps in the nape of your neck. You know exactly what he means...

"Go in the room and wait for me there" with that he removes his hand and you quickly leave the room without daring looking at him. Without any detours you go straight to your room and sit on the king-sized bed.

You feel a familiar tingly feeling rise in your lower stomach. You don't even have time to think that your hand travels on its own to your crotch. As soon as your fingers press on your core the door slams open.

Baekhyun chuckles coldly, looking you up and down.

"You little slut you couldn't even wait for me, could you?" he walks quickly to you and yanks hard on your arm to make you stand. You wince in pain.

"What do you say?"

"I'm sorry daddy." You whimper. Suddenly he flips you over and makes you lay over his lap with your butt up. Without much consideration he roughly pulls up your t-shirt dress. His hand rests delicately over your clothed bottom as you are still wearing your baby blue laced panties. Gently, he strokes your butt cheeks with his thumb.

"Baby girl, you need a little reminder that you belong to daddy and daddy only. So, I have to punish you, you understand that, right?" he says as he slowly pulls down your lace panties. You simply nod quietly.

"So, baby girl I'm going to spank you 15 times and you will say thank you to each one of them. Understood?"

"Yes daddy" you say, already bracing for impact.

You feel his cold hand lift up from your skin. Then you hear the loud noise. Full force spanking your tiny ass. Lastly, you feel the pain, make you scream at the very first strike. It just started but already you feel the tingly feeling in your lower stomach grow.

"I didn't hear you baby"

"Thank you, daddy." You whimper.

"Good girl" Right away he spanks you again. You scream again, already your butt is burning. You can't help but to moan in between each scream. You feel each nerve of your sensitive skin.

"Thank you, daddy"

Baekhyun spanks again until he reaches 15. Your ass is raw,  the pain feels so good, you bite your bottom lip trying to refrain from begging him to fuck you right now. Because you know daddy doesn't like being told what to do, especially when he's angry.

He puts you back up and makes you sit up on the bed. He stands in front of you as he unbuckles his belt.

"Now you're gonna suck daddy off, to make up to him" right there he rips out his fat cock in front of your very eyes. You can't help but gasp and the beautiful sight. He was so hard, precum pearling at the tip. It made your mouth water in anticipation.

You look at him with hungry eyes and just nod while opening wide. Baekhyun smirks.

"Good girl" he says, pinching your nose and slowly pushing himself inside your tiny mouth. He doesn't stop at the first resistance, instead he pushes harder, making his way past the back of your throat. You feel the burn with each inch as he grunts loudly. You can't breathe anymore, not through your nose and certainly not through your mouth.

Without a warning Baekhyun starts to rapidly pump himself in and out of your mouth making your eyes water. You feel tears roll down your cheeks as you try to gasp for air. Baekhyun doesn't stop and skull fucks you even deeper, tearing your throat apart. You try to push him away, but he doesn't budge. He just moans louder using your face as his personal fuck toy.

Finally, he pulls out allowing you to breathe. You loudly gasp for air. Coughing, you look up at your boyfriend. He still looks pissed.

"Fuck babe, that little slut mouth of yours is fitted for my cock, isn't it?" he says trying to catch his breath pushing his blond hair back. You cough still trying to pull yourself together.

Without warning, Baekhyun leans in and his  hands reach for the collar of your dress with one powerful and swift move he rips it off your body leaving you in your baby blue lace bra only.

"Take that off for me" he says pointing at the bra as he passes his oversized hoodie over his head. You look in awe at the muscles of his back and abs moving to mesmerize you. He looks so good, he's lightly sweating from pleasuring himself with your mouth. He's stark naked in front of you, you gulp loudly, anticipating but also fearing what's to come.

"Lay there" he commands pointing a finger to the bed, you do as you're told and lay with your arms resting to your sides. Baekhyun then gets up and walks to the dresser. He opens the fourth drawer. You know what he stores in this drawer, you squirm in apprehension.

When he turns back to you, he's holding a red marker and two, no, three nipple clamps.

"Baby girl, you know you've been bad, right?" You look at him with scared eyes but nod. He sits next to you.

"This one is for allowing another man to think about you" he says as he clips the clamp on one of your nipples. You bite your lip at the delicious pinching sensation.

"This one is for daring to even say his name in front of me" he places the second clamp on your other nipple. You gasp. It feels so good, your watery eyes fill up with tears again.

"And this one is for reminding you who owns you" he places the last one on your untouched but very anticipating clit. This time you can't help but to scream and grip the sheets as the pain spreads through your core. Baekhyun looks down at you with a satisfied smirk.

"Hmmm baby, you look so pathetic squirming like that." He leans over you. "Does it hurt, baby?" he purrs as a cold smile spreads on his lips. You looked up at him, pouting and eyebrows knitted together and nod.

"Baby girl, it's only fair for you to be treated this way because you were very bad you understand, right?"

You nod, the tears finally streaming down your face. Baekhyun smiles in satisfaction again, he loves to see you in this state, wrapped around his fingers. He controls you, he owns you. 

Then, he takes the red sharpie out. He takes off the cap and writes on your body, first right under your collarbones, then on your lower stomach and finally on your face.

"Go ahead and get up to go see how beautiful you look."

You get up and wince in pain again as the gravity pulls on the clamps. You walk up to the full length mirror. Baekhyun wrote "cocksleeve" across your chest,  "my cunt" right over your pussy and finally "daddy's slut" on each of your cheeks.

"Aren't you pretty?" You turn back to him. 

"Yes, thank you daddy" you meekly answer.

You want to walk back to him, but he puts his hand up and stops you.

"Not so fast, baby girl. The punishment isn't over yet. You are not allowed to walk back to me... Get on all fours and crawl to me like the bitch that you are"

You feel the humiliation rush to your cheeks and spread to your body. But you obey anyway, you do as you're told. Your knees against the cold hard wood you approach your sadistic boyfriend.

"Good girl, now. Crouch and tell daddy how sorry you are" You feel the tears well up again.

"Daddy..." you start with your voice trembling, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry. I will never upset you again." 

Silence follows, you lift your head to look up at him and without a warning he slaps you across the face, almost making you fall. You rub your cheek.

"Gotta have to do better than that" he replies with the harshest tone. Now you are just sobbing.

"This little slut is sorry daddy. She doesn't deserve a daddy as perfect as you. I am nothing more than your personal fuck toy and a mere toy should only serve her daddy and no other men should be allowed to lay eyes on it. Daddy I'm sorry for being a dirty whore I will make it up to you I promise."

Baekhyun chuckles, visibly satisfied to see you dragging yourself down like this. You can't help but to let your eyes trail down his perfect body to his cock... He is harder than ever.

"That's right baby you are my pathetic little slut" he says gently stroking your still burning cheek.

"You know what baby? Daddy wants you to hurt as much as you hurt him by allowing this man in your life." He harshly grabs your face.

"So, you're going to stand up and you're going to show daddy how your pretty little face twists in pain" he says with a large, wicked smile.

You stand up.

"Jump, lemme see the clamps bounce."

You do as you're told and bounce yourself up and down. The weight of the clamp on your clit is unbearable and you just frown deeply in pain.

"Good girl now pull on the clamps on your nipples"

You pull on them harshly, the joyous pain makes you roll your eyes back and you can't help but to let a soft moan escape your lips. Baekhyun reaches down and starts to pump his hand around his big cock. He looks satisfied, nothing arouses him more than seeing you cry like this.

"Twist them"

You moan louder, it's difficult to contain your excitement as you feel your arousal coating your inner thighs.

"Good girl" he says with an evil smirk.

After a while, your body is red all over, complementing even better the matching sharpie.

"Now lay there you slut" Baekhyun says as he gets up the bed. You lay on your back and wait for further instructions.

Baekhyun gets on the bed over you and places himself at your entrance. Rubbing his tip against your slick folds.

"What a pitiful slut that you are getting this wet from being humiliated" he says smirking. And with that he violently pushes himself inside you in one go. You scream in absolute bliss, almost cumming to this one single thrust.

"Fuck, baby" Baekhyun moans.

He starts to move rapidly, you feel the familiar knot in your stomach form. He goes full force right away, making your fringe jump with each powerful thrust.

"Baby what are you?" he pants.

"I'm your slut daddy"

"Good girl" he says, grinding his teeth, rewarding you with more powerful thrusts and more overwhelming pleasure.

"You like daddy's thick cock don't you, slut?"

"Yes, I love your big cock daddy, it feels so good in my tiny cunt" You whine, feeling the knot getting tighter. The three nipple clamps jumping all over the place as Baekhyun fucks you deep and hard.

"No one can make you feel good like daddy,  do you understand?" he says struggling, moaning in between each word.

"Yes only daddy's big cock" you bite your lip trying not to cum as Baekhyun hasn't granted you permission yet.

"Good girl. You are daddy's little slut. Daddy's toy. Daddy's personal cocksleeve. Nothing more. Your only purpose is to pleasure daddy and make him cum with your tight cunt." Baekhyun grunts, pushing himself deep and fast inside you.

The dirty talk is too much for you, you feel so good and the humiliation of being reduced to a mere object sends you over the edge. You scream and moan as your legs shake into an uncontrollable and divine orgasm, your sensitive little pussy deseperately twitching around Baekhyun's thick cock. 

Your high hasn't even worn out yet that you feel Baekhyun's not-so-delicate hand slap your face. The burn in your cheek makes your eyes roll back as the setlling pleasure of your orgasm makes your mind go blank.

"I'm sorry daddy" you say half moaning, half sobbing, gagging on his slender digits.

"You slut, you came without daddy" he shoves his long fingers deep inside your throat. You instinctively suck on them as tears run down your cheeks again.

"You're such a bad girl" Baekhyun says, whipping his fingers out of your mouth to immediately pull harshly on your hair. You scream in both overwhelming pain and unbearable pleasure.

"Daddy I'm sorry" you say again, moaning as Baekhyun keeps on pounding into you, still pumping his fat cock in and out of you at an alarming speed. Stretching your tiny pussy beyond repair.

"Shut the fuck up slut" Baekhyun says as he repeatedly slaps you in the face, smudging the sharpie over with your tears. He picks up the pace again. Going even faster, destroying your pussy in the process. You moan in pleasure, feeling the knot tightening again.

"Daddy please slow down I'm going to cum again" you sob.

"I said shut up" he says clapping his hand over your mouth muffling your moans. Baekhyun has a really hard time containing himself. He feels like he's going to burst any second. As soon as he removes his hand you speak again.

"Daddy please I'm-" but you can't finish.

"Shut the fuck up I said you fucking  bitch" he grunts.

Baekhyun circles his hands around your narrow neck. Pressing his fingers on your throat and your artery to keep the blood from reaching your brain. Finally, you are silenced, you can't speak anymore, not even moan. You can only concentrate on the immense pleasure Baekhyun makes you feel. He grunts loudly pumping in and out of your exhausted tiny cunt. You feel like the knot will come undone at any second now.

"That's it baby! You like when daddy chokes you, right baby? " Baekhyun says clenching his jaw.

Slowly your vision clouds up and you start to feel lightheaded. Like you are high on the most enjoyable and addicting drug: rough sex with your boyfriend Byun Baekhyun.

"I'm going to mark this cunt now baby. I'm going to make it all mine. I'm going to cum inside of you".

Seconds later, you feel thick ropes of cum painting your walls and filling you up as Baekhyun releases himself inside you with powerful thrusts. His hair is stuck to his forehead, he breathes heavily as he wears a relieved expression, his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his jaw lossely hanging open.

As you are about to pass out from too little oxygen, the delicious feeling of being pumped full of hot cum sends you over the edge and you reach the most blissful orgasm ever.

"Yeah that's it baby girl, cum for me, cum for daddy" Baekhyun says with a carnivorous smile.

Your legs shake all over as you see stars from being chocked. This sensation is a whole new level. Never in your life you felt something this intense. It's heaven. You ascended to heaven.

As Baekhyun slows down he releases his brusing grip around your neck, and you can finally gasp for air. As you catch your breath your vision comes back to normal and the high fades away.

Baekhyun collapses next to you, visibly exhausted and satisfied. You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his glistening chest. He starts stroking your hair.

"Baby?" he asks, hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"You... love me more, right? More than him..." he says timidly. You can't help but smile Athos sheepish expression. You look up at him amorously surprised by the the complete change in his attitude. There's no more anger in his eyes as he cutely pouts.

"No babe, I only love you. You are my one and only" you say softly kissing him. He looks back at you smiling before closing his eyes.

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

[miceenscene]

'tis the damn season

frankie/reader | childhood friends to lovers | pre-canon

wc: 1.8k/2.5k

summary: At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

warnings: none

an: don't let anyone tell you that second person doesn't work from another character's perspective, least of all yourself while editing

Masterpost | ao3

Chapter 2: Who am I Related to?

December 8, 2012 18:57

Hudson’s was a shitty bar just up highway 210 outside of Fort Bragg, the nearest watering hole to the base as the crow flies.

As a result, it served pretty damn near exclusively military personnel. When it changed ownership about four years back, the new management decided to reflect that and so the place looked like the Fourth of July and Top Gun had thrown up on it. Never mind that Fort Bragg was an Army base. Still, they had cheap booze and greasy food that was far better than the commissary, so it was always busy.

Pope had texted the usual suspects a few hours ago that he was heading to Hudson’s that evening, making Frankie immediately ditch his plans of drinking alone for drinking with Pope and whoever else showed up. Most likely just Benny and Ironhead now that Redfly had semi-retired down to Florida. It was a short drive to the bar from the dorms on base, but it was enough to make Frankie groan and press hands to his lower back as he got out of his car and made his way inside.

Pope was sitting at the bar and didn’t look up from texting on his phone as Frankie gingerly eased into the stool next to him.

“Hey, Fish,” Pope said, rereading the email.

“Hey.” At the bartender’s attention, Frankie pointed to Pope’s beer before daring a slight back stretch.

Pope sent his email and then looked over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just finished PT.”

He chuckled once. “Back still fucked?”

“More tired than fucked anymore,” Frankie managed, shaking his head and wincing. The bartender delivered his beer, and Frankie took a swig. “When did we get old?”

“¿De qué estás hablando ‘nosotros’, viejo?”

Frankie jabbed an elbow and grinned slightly down at his next swig. “Culero.”

“Hey, before everyone gets here–” Pope looked at him, an oddly serious expression on his face for their usual bar. “I found out today you haven’t re-enlisted yet.”

Frankie immediately dropped his gaze to the suddenly very interesting glass in his hand. “Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m trying to pull strings to get Benny into our unit full-time. I think he’d fit well with the team. Then Simmons tells me you haven’t signed your new papers yet. So what’s up?”

Frankie glanced over to see Pope still focused on him. “Nothing, nothing. I… I’m still thinking about it.”

He chuckled. “What’s there to think about?”

“We all want out someday, right? If we’re lucky enough to choose when we leave.”

“Yeah, but there’s thinking and thinking.” Pope smacked his shoulder. “What – are you gonna become a real estate agent like Redfly?”

No. Definitely not. Even just the idea of shilling condos was enough to make Frankie’s eyes glaze over. But still–

“Real estate agents make more money than we do.”

Pope made a considering face for a moment then brushed it off. “Yeah, but you’d miss it. You’re like me. We like the rush.”

Frankie nodded slightly. This is why he was still just thinking about it. It wasn’t a small thing to walk away from fourteen years with the Army. Especially since everyone knew the retirement benefits were absolute shit until you hit twenty. But he could already tell, he didn’t have another six years in him. He wasn’t even sure he had another deployment.

“You know the deadline’s New Year’s, right?” Pope said, cutting through his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know. I have some leave I have to take before the year’s out anyway.”

Pope nodded. “Good. Clear your head, get some perspective. See how fucking boring civvy life is, and then come back Jan 2 and join my team.”

Frankie smiled wryly; Pope always could make anything sound easy. “Something like that.”

“You have holiday plans then?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Frankie sucked in breath. “I guess I’ll go back to my parents’. My mom’s been wanting me to visit for a while now.”

“How long’s it been?”

“I saw them in DC last summer, but I haven’t been back home… since I joined Delta.”

“Remind me where they’re at.”

“Up north. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Still in the same house I grew up in.” He could picture the wreath on the door, the twinkling lights his dad always strung across the front fence every December. A matching set used to be hung on the fence exactly opposite across the street. Who lived there now, he wondered. Would they put the tree in the front window too?

“Soldier coming home for Christmas. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Fuck you,” Frankie replied as the others finally arrived.

--

Frankie got his answer as he ducked out the front door of his parent’s house about a week later. His breath immediately fogged as he sucked in a few calming breaths of night air, the pressure in his head slowly levelling. Out in the still darkness, the noise level coming from the living room was finally manageable. Inside, with all of his cousins and his aunts and uncles and the music and everyone talking over each other and the heater set far too high for the number of people inside– he… he just needed a break.

Seven hours was a decent stint for his first day. He’d be around longer tomorrow. Wading in. That was the key. Because he was now the kind of person that had to treat time with his family like running a marathon. Apparently.

He walked down to the twinkling front fence, making a mental note to shovel the front walk tomorrow, and stopped. The house across the street – your house, as it would forever be in his mind – was completely dark. A small sign posted in the front yard announced some sort of home refurbishment company was going to be arriving soon. No doubt they would come in, strip away wallpaper and old tile and heart to paint it all beige and granite for the quick resell.

He hadn’t had the heart to ask his mother yet how long the house hadn’t belonged to your family. No need for another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he’d missed. He had more than enough already.

The front door opened behind him, casting a temporary warm glow across the dark snow, and his dad stepped out, pipe in hand. He meandered down the front steps to join Frankie at the gate, puffing a few times before speaking.

He shook his head. “It’d break his heart to see it so empty, but I understand why she sold,” he said, looking at the forlorn house with him.

“How long ago?” Frankie asked.

“Few months. Not too long after the funeral.” Dad looked his way for a moment. “I’ll give it ten minutes before I tell your mother you left.”

“I… thanks,” he replied weakly.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.”

Dad nodded slowly, leaving just the pipe smoke wafting between them for a minute. “Take it slow, no need to rush.”

“Thanks.” He stepped through the gate, fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Francisco,” he said, making Frankie stop and look at him. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Frankie just nodded and went to his car. Even though he couldn’t bear another minute in the noisy press of his loved ones, the idea of going back to his lonely hotel room was truly abysmal. So after some finagling with the ignition, he started the engine and headed to the one bar he’d ever been to in his hometown.

--

There were Christmas lights in the window and a dancing Santa on the bar as Frankie walked in. Some sort of forcibly cheery holiday classic played over the speakers tucked between quirky memorabilia that hung over every square inch of wall space. And even though public smoking had been outlawed by the state well over a decade ago, cigarette stench had sunk into the very foundation of the place.

It was nothing like Frankie remembered. But it would do.

Eyes automatically sweeping across the moderately busy room for a Thursday night, he headed for a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender came by. It was just one step up from swill, but comfortably numbing in its mediocrity. He looked across the room again, checking for familiar faces this time and finding none. No surprise there. A decade was a long time, and really he hadn’t been around too much for the years before that too.

There were couples on dates here, friend groups, some sort of girls’ night happening in the corner, a few loners like him hovering at the bar. Most everyone was smiling, talking, laughing so hard their whole bodies shook. A whole world of Normal. And Frankie was a tourist.

Pope was right. He couldn’t go back to this. He couldn’t make it through one whole day with blood relatives anymore. What was he thinking? That he could just settle into a normal life like the last decade of his work was nothing? Get a 9-to-5 and a mortgage and a girl – not that he’d ever had too much luck in that department. Especially when there was one girl that eclipsed all others, and he didn’t even know her phone number any more.

The door opened, making the Santa on the bar dance, and every thought in Frankie’s head immediately stopped. His eyes drew wide as he stared, jaw barely restrained from slapping against his chest. Was it really – course it was, there wasn’t anyone else it could be. A whole century could pass, and he’d still know that face.

It was you.

Live, in the flesh you. Cheeks pinked from the wind, haloed by the street lights outside, wrapped in a truly astonishing number of woolen layers. Not a half-remembered fantasy, but Real and breathing and even more beautiful than his memory had claimed.

He watched you shake a few flurries out of your hair and stomp the excess snow off your boots, shutting the door behind you as you waved to the bartender. Your gaze swung across the bar, completely skimming past him, and landed on the girls’ night in the corner. You smiled. He stared.

You began to head over to the people you were obviously here to meet. On nothing but pure instinct, he immediately got out of his stool and followed you. Falling into step behind you, he stretched a hand forward to hook a few fingers inside your elbow.

You looked back at him, and for a heart-breaking breath there was no recognition in your eyes.

Till he gave you a half-smile and said, “Hey Bo.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open. “Frankie?” you asked.

He nodded.

Your astonishment ballooned so wide it froze your whole face solid for a moment. Then you laughed, out of far more shock than amusement, and gave him a smile all his own. “Oh my god!! You’re here!”

You immediately wrapped him in a hug. And though it took him a moment to return it, for the first time in ten whole years, he was home.

Chapter 3: Not my Homeland Anymore

taglist: @kelenloth ; @darnitdraco ; @gracie7209 ; @616wilsons ; @icanbeyourjedi ; @astroboots ;

[joaquinwhorres]

hoax (Ch. 1) {Sirius Black x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› It started out as a simple bet: who could get the girl chosen for them first? After four years of half-hearted attempts, Sirius decides it’s time to make a concerted effort to win over the notoriously undateable Florence Saise.

WORD COUNT ››››› 4,100-ish

WARNINGS ››››› Pretty much every chapter is going to have mentions of sex. Including this one.

A/N ››››› I'm so thankful to every single person who responded to my incessant "does this line make sense?" or "can you read this to tell me what you think?" Without you guys this never would have been uploaded, and I'd never already have the start of a second chapter.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net | Read on AO3

Florence Saise was rather convinced that she was the only person not excited to find themselves back at Hogwarts. Everyone else seemed to be coping with the looming start of the school year just fine, if the laughter and shouts that greeted her as she flung open the carriage door was any indication. It was, by all accounts that mattered, (which is to say, hers) not fair.

The blonde haired girl jumped down from the horseless carriage, landing with a heavier thump than might have been expected from her small frame. Before her, masses of students cursed up the hill chattering to one another with smiles on their faces. Not one had the same little crease between their eyebrows that threatened to turn into a full-on scowl.

It was as if every single one of them had either forgotten the bullshit that came along with living amongst their peers or were still blissfully unaware of the curse that was adolescence. Even her friends, who hopped down out of the carriage behind her, seemed too entrenched in the debate that had stretched from the train compartment to the carriage, to fully register what being back at Hogwarts meant.

"You've been quiet, Lory, what do you think?" Marlene asked, throwing an arm around Florence's shoulder as the small group of girls joined the throng of students.

"If Sebastian doesn't know what to do with his tongue when kissing, there's not much hope for him using it elsewhere. You'd do better with Roger."

"Aha!" Marlene cried out triumphantly, pointing a finger at Mary. "That makes it two for Roger, one for Sebastian, and one for giving up on boys all together," she tallied as Florence shrugged out from under her arm. Lily appeared on Florence's other side, trapping Florence in the middle of the group.

"You can't just use physical stuff as the metric for whether or not a relationship will be any good," Lily asserted. "There's more to dating than snogging and sex."

"Says the person who's never properly snogged anyone," Marlene stage whispered to Mary.

"Exactly," Lily said, perhaps a little too passionately. "And look how fulfilled I am."

Marlene shot Florence a skeptical look, and Lily reached across her to smack at Marlene's arm. This started another round of fierce debating, Lily reminding Mary that Sebastian had written her once a week all summer whereas Roger had only written four times, Marlene reminding Mary that she didn't want to die a virgin, and Dorcas reminding Mary that she never had any of these problems with her girlfriends.

Florence felt a dull needling, like a knuckle digging into the side of her head. At this rate, she was going to have a headache before they even reached the castle.

The Gryffindor strode ahead of the group, near enough that she wouldn't catch any flack for abandoning them but far enough that she could more easily drown out their bickering. She would give anything for just a single moment of peace today. Between her father and brother waking her up with their argument to Lily and Marlene's stupid battle over who Mary should date, all Florence wanted was ten minutes where she didn't get roped into playing referee.

But as she looked up ahead on the path, her eyes landing on James Potter and his crew, it seemed like peace was not in the cards for her today.

The group of boys were laughing amongst each other as they subtly enchanted trees to tap students on the shoulder or grab an unsuspecting second year. It was, objectively speaking, rather funny to witness the reactions of their various victims. One boy let out a startled shriek so loud, Florence would have expected it to come from a banshee. Another girl was attempting to fight off a branch that kept pulling at her plait. The problem with Potter and them's joke was not so much the unrest it caused amongst the students ahead of Florence.

The problem was Lily.

"You have got to be kidding me," Lily sighed, cutting Marlene off mid sentence. "What's even the point in making Remus a prefect if he's going to let his friends get away with everything?"

Before any of the girls had a chance to talk Lily down, the prefect marched up the hill with impressive speed, her hair billowing behind her.

"I am not missing this," Marlene said eagerly, grabbing Mary by the hand and tugging her up the hill with her. Dorcas and Florence shared a look and a sigh, before following them after Lily.

"Potter!" Lily shouted, and the group of boys came to an abrupt stop, nearly causing the group of Ravenclaws behind them to collide with their backs.

"Ah the dulcet tones of Lily Evans," James Potter said as he turned around to face the fuming redhead, a smirk set firmly in place.

Lily pulled up right in front of him, chest heaving from her quick trip up the hill. "You are to stop using magic at once or else I'll be forced to give you detention."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Potter said, tilting his head and allowing confusion to overtake his features. Lily's scowl deepened, clearly not buying the act. "I think you and I are both aware that it's against the rules to use magic before term starts, and we're not even at the castle yet."

Behind him, Pettigrew and Black snickered. The sound seemed to bolster James Potter's already rampant egotism as the smirk returned once more to his face.

"Unless of course, you're saying that I've enchanted you. Do you find me bewitching, Evans?" Potter asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"I think I've made it quite clear what I think of you, James Potter," Lily snapped, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "10 points from Gryffindor."

"Ah, Evans," Potter tsked, as if regretting the fact that he would have to share bad news with her. "Prefects can't take points until the start of term. Learned that fourth year," he added on, dropping the sympathetic act.

Marlene nudged Florence with her elbow and held out her hand expectantly. Florence's eyes moved from the open palm to her friend's gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"I believe you owe me a hundred galleons," Marlene informed her, a smile tugging at her lips even as she fought to remain serious. "As James Potter has just confirmed that he has, in fact, learned something in his past five years here."

"That doesn't count," Florence said dryly, slapping Marlene's palm down even as Marlene grinned at her winningly. The stare off between a seething Lily and smug James was looking very much like it was about to end in a murder. Remus Lupin must have also caught onto this because he shook his head and finally stepped forward.

"Come on, let's at least make it to the castle this year before you and Lily have a row," he appealed, making a half-decent attempt at Prefect-like behavior.

Potter turned to his friend with a magnanimous smile. "Since you asked so kindly, Moony," Potter paused, shooting Lily a look. "I'll make sure there is no more confusion about whether or not we might have been doing magic. Watch carefully, Evans. I'm putting my wand in my back pocket. Feel free to track its progress up the hill," he added with a wink.

Lily let out a disgusted noise as Marlene snorted, and Potter turned to continue back up the hill with his friends, Sirius Black playfully pushing him as he rejoined the group.

"What a wanker," Lily murmured, watching the boys go.

"Maybe, but he's looking well fit," Marlene noted, taking Potter up on his offer to make sure his wand stayed in his back pocket. "You could do a lot worse than James Potter."

Lily whirled on Marlene, emitting a scandalized,  " Marlene! "

The dark haired girl laughed and shook her head. "Oh come off it, Lils, he's smart, funny, attractive, all of which is important to you, and," she looked around before leaning forward conspiratorially. "I've heard his wandwork isn't the only magical thing he can do with his hands." Marlene wiggled her fingers at Lily, who pulled back looking so pale that for a moment, Florence thought she might actually be sick.

Which was far too hilarious not to laugh at. So she did, earning a dark look from Lily and a shiteating grin from Marlene.

Lily rounded back on Marlene before shaking her head and starting back up to the castle.  "He's not funny; he's cruel. And he's only half as smart as he thinks he is."

"So you agree he's attractive?" Marlene asked, raising an eyebrow, and Lily's face turned bright red before she managed to sputter out a:

"Looks don't mean anything!"

"She's right," Dorcas added. Contributing to the conversation for the first time with the decisiveness that the girls had come to expect from her.  "Looks don't mean anything. But being good with his hands, well…"

Lily emitted a strangled sound somewhere between disbelief and mild outrage as the rest of her friends laughed at her and moved past on their way to the castle. A small feeling in Florence's chest loosened as she walked with them, the conversation alternating between teasing Lily and debating between Roger and Sebastian. Maybe this year wouldn't be quite as bad as the past five.

Naturally, the hope of a better year was squashed the very next day.

This, of course, should have been expected. After all, the first day of classes was primarily meant for overloading students with work they weren't yet prepared for and reminding them that their very futures depended on the mastery of the material. However, those spiels were not the giveaway that this year would be more or less the same in terms of teenage bullshit as the years prior. What it really came down to was her Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

The death of her hope began the moment she walked into the classroom and was faced with an obscenely tall and lanky man, dressed in a smart tweed suit with his chin length hair tucked behind his ears. A name was written in halting cursive on the chalkboard behind him.

Oleander Fernsby.

It was a ridiculous name for what was, by all indicators, a ridiculous man.

Although, as Florence watched the way his eyes darted around the classroom, shooting away every time a student got too close to making eye contact, she began to think that perhaps ridiculous was the wrong word. It suggested a certain confidence that this man in front of her was severely lacking.

It was painful to watch really, seeing him hoist the corners of his mouth up just to seem to lose his grip and have the smile come crashing down again. Both of his hands were shoved into his pants pockets, the right one fiddling with something it found in there so that the pocket almost seemed to flutter with his nervous energy. Even as she sat down next to Marlene, Florence couldn't take her eyes off of this clear disaster waiting to happen.

"This is going to be interesting," Marlene noted with raised eyebrows as she tapped her quill tip on the desk. "Reckon he'll make it the whole year?"

"Reckon he'll make it to the end of the month?" Florence returned, and Marlene snorted.

The last of the students shuffled into the room, claiming desks next to their friends and casting skeptical looks up at the unusual choice for professor. Even Remus Lupin looked unsure about Dumbledore's choice as he sat with eyebrows raised and a slight frown on his face.

The professor cleared his throat, which was completely ineffective when it came to quelling the murmurings of students sizing him up.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice dipping down into a mumble on the last syllable. As could be expected, the class' attention remained on their own conversations.

" Merlin's beard," Dorcas muttered under her breath from behind Florence. The professor furrowed his brow, a look of resolve on his face before trying again.

"Good morning." He had added a bit of volume and force assertiveness to his voice, but it wasn't until Potter hit Black on the shoulder and gestured with his head to the professor that the talking in the room tapered off. Faced with a room of quiet students, he succeeded in finally managing a weak smile.

"Good morning," he repeated, his voice soft but steady at least. "I'm Professor Fernsby, and I'll be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."

It was hard to imagine this particular wizard ever standing up against the dark arts. He looked like he could hardly manage a boggart let alone a hag or Lethifold. Even faced with a room full of bored teenagers, he was crumbling under the pressure. Across the room Peter Pettigrew snickered, and Fernsby's expression faltered.

"I know that I am a new face here, and you've had five other professors, but I hope that together we'll have a good year this year and learn a lot."

Florence snorted and either Lily or Dorcas (probably Lily) jabbed a finger into her back in scolding.

Fernsby's smile flickered, and he paused. "Erm, yes. I know that this is your second class of the day, and it's early. The first years were all practically asleep at their desks this morning, but this is an NEWT-level class, so we will be covering rather complicated and dark material--oh! Yes, you there," Fernsby said, gesturing towards a student in the back. Florence turned, watching as Cassius Avery lowered his hand, a self-satisfied smirk already twisting at his lips.

"Can you explain what you mean by 'dark,' professor?"

The classroom went so still even Fernsby seemed to notice, his pocket fluttering once more.

"Well, we'll learn about the Unforgivable Curses. How to battle Inferi--"

"Will we be learning more about the Dark Arts themselves?" Avery interrupted, tilting back his chair so that it leaned against Thaddeus Nott's desk.

Fernsby's eyes flicked around the classroom as if looking for help from one of the students, but everyone remained still and quiet, watching to see what would happen. Florence set her jaw as she looked back at Avery who was looking rather smug. Beside him there was a glint in Thomas Mulciber's eye as if he were watching an animal fall into a trap.  "I'm not sure that would be entirely appropriate--" Fernsby started.

"I was just thinking that we should know how the Dark Arts work and such so we can properly defend ourselves?" Avery clarified and beside him Mulciber smirked. Florence's hand curled into a fist on her desk. "I mean, you want us to be prepared, don't you, professor? We need to know--"

"Avery you smarmy little git, would you shut up?" Florence snapped, and the eyes of the class shot over to her. But she was just looking at Avery whose eyes flashed angrily. "Even he's not thick enough to teach you how to curse someone. Go ask your dad. Or is he too busy shagging his cousin--I'm sorry, your mum."

There was a beat of silence as the whole class seemed to collectively hold its breath before across the room, Sirius Black broke out into a loud barking laughter, muffling whatever Avery snarled at Florence.

"Pardon?" she asked, arching an eyebrow, and though he opened his mouth to say it again, it wasn't Avery's voice, but Fernsby's she heard next.

"That is--that is quite enough," the professor finally interjected, and Florence turned around, ready for her detention or points to be docked, but as Fernsby's eyes landed on her and she met them with a fierce unrepentance, he wet his lips and moved on.

"Merlin's beard," Marlene whispered to Florence. "Been holding onto that for a while, haven't you?"

"After what he and Mulciber did last year to Mary, he's lucky I haven't set him on fire," Florence mumbled. "Last thing we need is that lot learning about the Dark Arts so they can practice on muggleborns."

Marlene nodded her agreement, and the two focused back on Fernsby who was presently taking attendance.

Class continued and with it the growing feeling that someone was attempting to stare daggers into the back of her head. When she finally turned with a raised eyebrow, she found that not only was Avery glaring at her, but Mulciber and Nott had also joined in their friend's effort. She gave the three of them the most saccharine smile she could muster and lifted a middle finger towards them. When she turned back to Fernsby, he was in the middle of listing his credentials and previous places of employment..

He had just finished on how formative his time in the Azkaban processing unit was when James Potter began to loudly pack up his bag. "And erm..." Professor Fernsby stopped, watching as Potter corked his inkwell and dropped it into his bag. "Mr….Potter was it?"

Potter looked up, "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," he said, his face genuinely apologetic. "I thought you were about done."

"Done?" Fernsby asked. While the word might have cracked like a whip from McGonagall or Kettleburn, instead it came out rather helpless as he looked appealingly to Potter for an explanation.

"It's just that usually professors keep class short the first. To get us acclimated to the school schedule again, you know."

Fernsby said nothing, looking out over the class to see nods of assent. Even Dorcas kept quiet.

"He's right," Marlene said from next to her, and Florence's attention whipped to her friend. "Although usually they make us stay at least half the block," she added with a reproachful look to James.

"Ah, well, I suppose here is as good a place to stop as any," Professor Fernsby said. "Come ready to learn, as I will be picking up the pace as the year progresses."

He seemed rather proud of himself, Florence thought as she along with her classmates scurried to pack up their books before anyone could possibly grow a guilty conscience. He probably thought the early dismissal was a sign of kindness and not what it really was: blood in the water.

Shouldering her bag, Florence headed out behind Lily and Dorcas into the hallway.

"We're not going to learn anything all year," Dorcas moaned, tossing her head back to stare miserably at the ceiling.

"It's going to be an easy O at least," Lily sighed. "And besides, next year it'll be someone new. Maybe they'll be able to catch us up."

Dorcas wilted a little, head coming back down to face forward with a pout tugging down her lips. "I suppose."

Marlene looked disbelievingly at the group. "Are we really not going to talk about Avery?"

"Do we have to?" Mary asked with a shudder. "He's so creepy. "

"That whole group is destined for Azkaban," Lily murmured, shaking her head.

"Not if Lory gets to them first," Marlene countered, smirking.

Florence shrugged, "I already told you I didn't think Fernsby had the backbone to tell him no."

"Right, but going after his dad like that?" Marlene pressed, raising her eyebrows at Florence as if to prompt an explanation.

"Everyone knows the Sacred Twenty-Eight's inbred," a voice drawled from behind the group. Lily rolled her eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh through her nose as Potter, Black, Remus, and Pettigrew interspersed themselves amongst the girls. "After all, you're looking at someone whose father shagged his cousin. Thankfully all of the negative effects of my parents' decision to procreate saved themselves for Regulus. Florence snorted at this, and Marlene barked out a laugh. Even Lily's lips quirked up into a reluctant half smile. "I have to say, Saise, that was a thing of sheer beauty in there. I think I might have even fallen in love with you a little," Black grinned.

Florence rolled her eyes and shook her head, even as the grin stayed on her lips. "I hope you're prepared for heartbreak then. Pettigrew, I'd start collecting chocolate frogs now, he's going to need them."

A quick confusion crossed Pettigrew's face as he darted a glance at Black, as if to ask if Florence was serious. But his friend was too busy throwing a hand over his heart and staggering back as if wounded.

"Should I get some chocolate frogs too, Evans? Or are you planning on sparing my heart this year?" Potter asked, grinning winsomely at Lily.

She gave him a tight lipped grin back, tilting her head towards him. "You should get as many as you can and stick them in your bag. That way, every time you have even the faintest impulse to ask me out, you can take one out and shove it in your mouth to save us both the trouble."

With that, Lily brushed her hair over her shoulder and moved forward to link arms with Florence, turning them both around to march down the hallway and away from their heartbroken boys.

"I think there was progress," James said, piling potatoes onto his plate once the boys had sat down for lunch. The past forty-five minutes that they should have spent in Defense Against the Dark Arts had been devoted instead to James' eternal pining over Lily Evans. "She didn't call me any names."

"Didn't need to, mate," Sirius said, snagging the serving spoon from James. "Her face and tone of voice largely did that for her."

"Yeah? What'd it say?" James asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Sirius spoon potatoes next to his sausage.

Sirius straightened up in his seat, pointing the spoon at James. "It said, James Potter, you are a complete tosser," he said, mimicking Lily's high voice, much to the amusement of both Remus and Peter.

James looked down the table to where Lily tossed her head back laughing at something Mary Macdonald said. The lack of outright animosity had been progress, but she still didn't look at him with even a fraction of the warmth she gave to everyone else. Lily caught sight of him and the smile slid from her face, settling into a look of pure disdain before she turned back to her friends and said something that made Marlene McKinnon almost spit out her pumpkin juice.

"Well at least I can say I'm trying," James protested, turning back to face Sirius.

"Trying what? To get Lily Evans to hex your arse halfway 'cross the country?" Sirius asked. "Because that is about the only thing you're set to succeed at with her."

James scoffed before growing serious.  "I'm trying to win the bet."

Sirius raised his eyebrows at his best friend, and even Peter seemed to have checked back in to the conversation. Remus however let out a groan and set down the book he'd been reading so he didn't have to listen to James going on about Lily. "I thought you two had given that up."

"It was just on hiatus for a while," Sirius dismissed, picking up his fork to dig into his lunch. "Because unlike Prongs, I don't have to spend years just to get Saise to tolerate being in the same room as me."

"And yet," James said, picking up his own fork. "You still haven't won."

"Well, I've been a bit too busy with other matters to be worried much about the birds?"

"Like what?" Remus asked, picking his book back up.

"Largely, being the family disappointment," Sirius remarked with some finality as he bit into his sausage.

James just laughed at this. "Please, you have about as much interest in dating as Saise does. One of you is going to call it quotes before you can even go public--let alone last two weeks."

"All I'm saying is that at least Saise doesn't actively detest the very sight of me," Sirius shrugged, taking another bite of his food.

"I'm making progress."

"Of course you are, mate," Sirius nodded, navigating the words around the mouthful of food.

James shook his head at Sirius, "Padfoot, when it comes right down to it , I don't even think you could get Saise out of her knickers, let alone date you."

Sirius scoffed. "Everyone can get her out of her knickers. Everyone practically has gotten Saise out of her knickers."

Remus looked up from his book, a frown tugging at his features. "That's an ugly thing to say Sirius," he scolded, but Sirius looked completely unrepentant.

"It's not like it's a secret that practically our entire year has shagged Florence. Everyone knows what she's like," Peter shrugged.

"Exactly. Thank you, Wormtail," Sirius said. "But if you're so certain I can't do it, Prongs, then you'd have no problem making a little add on to our bet. Right?"

"No problem at all," James said, smugly.

"Great," Sirius said, leaning forward on his elbows. "Let's talk terms."

[0aurelion-sol0]

SNK 135: THE SYNOPSIS AND RANT

So...

It's not the review, I just wanted to say some few words.

First of all, let's just acknowledge that this is a synopsis. It's not the chapter.

Second of all, don't use some spoilers without any context to make a theory. Especially when it's just the synopsis and there aren't any meaningful spoilers.

So let's cut it short, the synopsis is this: The battle engages on the back of the Founding Titan, but Eren is nowhere to be found and Armin and his troop quickly find themselves in trouble.

So people immediatly thought that meant Eren was still in Shiganshina using the Warhammer's ability.

There's just a few nitpicks I have about this theory... Just a few:

First, someone would have noticed. Judging where Eren's position is located before he transforms, someone in Shiganshina at some point would have noticed a big crystal or something titan like with something connected to it. It doesn't make sense. And Eren was not in a place where he could hide himself under something as the land was flat.

Second of all:

HAVE YOU...

SEEN THE SIZE...

OF THAT THING ?!!!

Eren could literally be located ANYWHERE on that thing. But no people need to think he is in control when...

Third of all, he isn't. The guy lost his head, keeps seeing traumatic flashbacks, teleports in paths, is a kid while having a semi-real dream of "That Sight" and apparently can watch through birds. Every character asks him, if he is really free ? And we are still begging for the guy to be in total control of all of this ? What for some kind of proto, mumbo jumbo Lelouch type of plan ? Please, every one in the fandom is bragging about this plan that he has when they are multiple elements that shows us, he is not in control of himself whatsoever ? And frankly, the manga which is an anti-war, anti-violence, anti-imperialism, anti-genocide will give a Lelouch ending (which is so predictable and only the typical shonen " I have your shonen protagonist n°3456 as a profile pic " would put out there) and A SECRET PLAN TO A GUY WHO IS DESTROYING THE WORLD, huh ?!?

That doesn't make any sense, Reiner, Annie and Bertolt didn't have one and fucked up on so many aspects when they tried to "sAvE tHe wOrLd". Why would he have such an advantage ? Because he is the main protagonist ? Give me a break.

Fourth of all, if something like this was to happen, the only thing that would make some little sense was either if Eren was being dragged by this huge titan but like why would he put so much effort in being in that state when it makes him so vulnerable, not only to others but to the colossal titans who burns everything. AND AGAIN someone would have noticed.

In the ocean ? What ? How will he come back up when he finished killing all babies ?

No that doesn't make sense. Forget it.

Eren got shot in the head, the only thing that makes sense is if all of his titan is made of hardening. And that his head is seperated which is clearly shown :

And the rest of his body is somewhere else on his Titan.

For example, he won't be in his nape (obviously, it's the weak spot.) but on his spine shown by the strings of flesh coming from it's spine.

It also reinforces the image that he is a puppet which is fitting since nothing he does makes any sense whatsoever especially like:

Lead two parties at war while none of them wanted to, siding with the guy you didn't want at first to save your lives but wants to eradicate those very same lives, attacking and hurting the friends who you want to have " long happy lives ", creating a civil war in your own country, a racist supremacist group that almost kills your friends, using yourself as bait when you are the Founder in a country that uses titans against you, not giving any information about your whereabouts, not giving any information via memories about EREN KRUGER THE GUY WHO WAS A SPY IN THE MARLEYAN MILITARY, also siding with a guy who wants to push the world against you and did so by suggesting to go to paradise to retrieve the Founder while I repeat... THEY DIDN'T WANT TO DO, doing an attack that will lead the world against you. Choosing to ignore every peaceful outcome even the people who are doing takes you with them to do it and than asking sympathy points for another way when he literally destroyed every option to do. Using the Rumbling which will kill also people that were living next to the walls, the titans in the walls will probably also stomp on villages that were located inside the walls as the titans were placed in a circular shape and ALSO...

Could... I don't know... KILL HISTORIA WHO IS LOCATED IN A ISOLATED FARM INSIDE THE WALLS, "PREGNANT" AND CANNOT RUN FAST IF COLOSSAL TITANS COMES AND WALK OVER HER.

*sigh*

Narratively this will also be stupid, like we did all of this just to find out he's not here ? A whole party died, Hange died for people to use the plane and he's not here ? And what we watch Humanity get killed ? We go back home, depressed ? Everyone is like " we love and understand Eren ? He goes back to Hisu, I am the dad, we feed the heteronormatives while the manga destroyed every cliche of that ? He gets a baby while he killed every babies " You are free." He wins, while he manipulated the whole thing ? Oh no he gets killed, secret plan, Eren is Lelouch, satisfying ending, his only fate is to die as a stupid symbol...

...God...

I don't even have the strenght to write. Why do people think like this ? Why do people feel the need to put the Alliance down with every chance they get and elevate Eren as this shonen protagonist freedom seeker demi god waifu meat beater ?

People are weird.

The guy has a change that happens off screen, he manipulates pretty much everything since the timeskip and he acts completely different from what we know of him and we're supposed to take it that way and consider it genius writing.

Really ?!

We need to move plot points, we need to move forward, we cannot keep dragging the story with endless unneeded double pages of violence and empty discussions for character who haven't expressed any feelings toward each other ever since the start outside of the anime who changed the story and added these pointless scenes to please those who masturbate to the three female characters of those ships. Like I don't know ( Eremika, Erehisu, Aruani...)

This is just the synopsis, wait for the review.

I really hope this chapter is good and not another 133 OR fucking 134.

[settersprouts]

꠵ look at me : chapter four ꠵

パニック 。

"How in the hell did we manage to get in this situation?"

Iwaizumi's and Matsukawa's shared thoughts explained the worst possible situation they would be in : they lost Oikawa and Hanamaki.

"Damn, this is bad." Iwaizumi reached for his phone, dialing Oikawa's number for the seventeenth time. Of course, just like the other sixteen times, there was no answer : the call just went straight to voicemail. "He put his goddamn phone on silent, what the hell was he thinking?"

Matsukawa rubbed Iwaizumi's back, supporting his teammate. "I'm sure they're fine. Maybe they went to get food or something." He checked his own phone to see if Hanamaki had read his texts, but his results were the same as Iwaizumi's. "I got no answer from Makki. He probably turned his phone off as well."

Iwaizumi grabbed his own hair, practically tearing it out of his scalp. "Crap, they're really starting to worry the living shit out of me." Matsukawa snorted a little bit, taking Iwaizumi's hands in his own to force him to stop making himself go bald.

"Look, you need to calm down. If they were in actual danger, the last thing they need is you not thinking straight." Matsukawa flicked Iwaizumi's forehead. "So, just take a deep breath. Breathe with me. In for four, hold for four, and out for four." Iwaizumi matched his breathing with Matsukawa's, and after a couple minutes his mini panic-attack had gone down, and the veins that were popping out of his forehead earlier weren't visible anymore. Muttering a small thanks, he checked his phone again just to see if Oikawa had texted. It was the same as earlier; no answer.

"Hey!" Hanamaki's bright voice rang through both boys' ears. They turned to greet the huge smile plastered on the boy's face. "Sorry about leaving you guys, I got you some food!"

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi both let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. "About time," Matsukawa muttered, opening his arms to give Hanamaki a little hug. "Was 'boutta call the cops on your dumb ass."

Hanamaki scoffed, shoving two paper bags into his friend's arms. "Well, screw you. I even got yours and Iwa's favorite too."

Iwaizumi peaked over Matsukawa's shoulder as the latter opened the crinkled bag. Inside were two foil-wrapped packages, the smell emitting from the wrapping suggesting Hanamaki had bought some food. Iwaizumi reached inside and pulled out one of the packages, opening the foil just a little bit to reveal Matsukawa's favorite food, cheese-filled hamburg steak.

Matsukawa gasped, taking the food from Iwaizumi's hand and looking at it like it was his lifeline. "Makki, you are a literal angel. God bless. I love you." He took a bite out of the steak, closing his eyes and smiling. "No homo though." He added on in between bites, finishing the meat in under fifteen seconds.

He gave the other bag to Iwaizumi, which held little plastic containers with some agedashi tofu. He inhaled the food's scent, wrinkling his nose a little bit at the sudden waft. It smelled normal, but it wasn't like the tofu Oikawa and his okāsan⭒ used to make. Even though Toorū was a brat about making food for Iwaizumi sometimes, he still managed to cook something up that tasted absolutely fantastic. It kind of scared him.

Iwaizumi pulled out the container, popping the lid open and stabbing a toothpick into one of the tofu pieces, popping it into his mouth. "So, where's Crappykawa?"

Hanamaki shrugged. "Dunno. I think he chickened out." An unamused expression made its way onto Makki's face. "He's probably still pissed about Karasuno beating us, that he didn't want to watch them go against Shiratorizawa."

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi both glanced at each other as Hanamaki stalked off, hands in his pockets and everything. "Sometimes, I really wonder what goes on inside his head."

"Honestly." Matsukawa replied, as they both speed-walked to keep up with Hanamaki. "I've been meaning to ask you, how's 'Kawa doing?"

Iwaizumi stiffened a little at the mention of his friend. A thousand things flew through his head. Should he tell him? Would Oikawa get mad? How would Matsukawa take it? Would he call the cops? Would he believe him? Would he tell Makki?

"You know, if you don't want to answer, you don't have to. Just don't glare at me, you're giving me chills." Iwaizumi snapped back to reality at Matsukawa's words, realizing he was glaring daggers at his friend. He mumbled an 'oh, gomen'nasai ⭒ ,' feeling relieved when Mattsun waved it off like it was nothing. "If it's personal, I get it. I'd be pretty 'pressed too, if I was in his situation."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

Matsukawa sighed, looking up towards the cloudy sky. "Well, Oikawa is an amazing captain, and setter. He tried for three years to make it to Nationals at Seijoh, worked his knee into a brace, and his chances were all swiped out from underneath him." Iwaizumi noticed his fist clenched a little bit, but decided not to mention it. "You know, I don't blame him for hating Kageyama. He was just born gifted, while Oikawa worked his ass off to get to where he is right now."

Iwaizumi nodded, remembering Oikawa's semi-hatred for the first-year Karasuno setter. "But, even so, that doesn't explain why he tried hitting him. You remember that, right?"

"Seriously?" Matsukawa turned his head to stare into Iwaizumi's olive-colored eyes. "I mean, sure, but he was having a panic-attack, if the things you told me and Makki were true."

"A panic-attack?" Iwaizumi looked at Matsukawa in shock. "Shittykawa? Having a panic-attack?"

Hanamaki slowed his pace so that he was walking alongside Iwaizumi and Matsukawa. "Yeah. From what you told us, he was breathing really fast and his pupils were small," he pointed to his own eyes while saying this part. "And he was sweating a lot more than he should have been, since he didn't practice all that much yet. Seeing Kageyama probably triggered his flight or fight response, and made him freak out even more."

Iwaizumi's eyebrows furrowed as the facts dawned on him. It all made sense now, why Oikawa had distanced himself so much more from Kageyama than he did before the incident. He'd avoid him at all costs, making sure he never came too close in contact with his underclassman : probably in fear of coming close to hitting him again. What if Kageyama triggered another panic-attack, and Iwaizumi wasn't there to stop him from doing something he'd regret?

Hanamaki looked at Iwaizumi's expression, clapping him on the back. "Oikawa's come a long way since then. That was what, three years ago?" He intertwined his fingers, flipping his hands and holding his palms to the sky. "He's doing a lot better now, and I'm really proud of him." He flashed a bright smile at them, which nearly blinded Iwaizumi and Matsukawa.

"Aw, man. I should've brought sunglasses." Matsukawa muttered, rubbing his eyes. Hanamaki laughed, slinging his arms around the latter's and Iwaizumi's shoulders.

"Let's just find some seats. Maybe we'll find Oikawa!"

⊱─ ‧̥̥͙⋅. ♔ .⋅‧̥̥͙ ─ ⊰

Iwaizumi muttered incoherent curse words as he climbed the fourth set of stairs, looking for Oikawa on the right side of the stadium now. "I know he's here. Why the hell is he so hard to find?" He, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa had split up, deciding that it would be easier that way to find the setter quicker and easier if he even decided to watch the match. Iwaizumi was about to give up when he noticed the familiar chestnut-brown tufts of hair that peeked over one of the chairs in the stadium. There he is, Iwaizumi thought, walking up behind his friend.

"Ah. So you're here too."

Oikawa stiffened, turning around abruptly at Iwaizumi's voice, probably expecting his childhood best-friend to yell at him. Fortunately for him, he didn't get that reaction, and he relaxed his shoulders a bit, but was obviously still a little tense. "I thought you said you didn't want to come, since it'll piss you off no matter who won," Iwaizumi said, as he hopped over the back of the chairs to stand next to his friend.

Oikawa smiled slyly, taking his arms off his knees and leaning back into the chair he sat in. "No matter who wins, I'm going to be able to see the faces of whoever loses."

"Man. You really are a piece of crap." Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa, who's face now held his "oh so famous" setter pout. It really confused the latter how every setter he saw seemed to make that same face whenever something pissed them off. It was kind of freaky. Pushing his thoughts aside, he sat down just one seat from Oikawa, knowing that he would want a little bit of personal space while dealing with all the crazy emotions going on inside his head.

Oikawa leaned forward in his seat a little bit, his eyes dead set on the so-called "Chibi-Chan." Iwaizumi could've have sworn he saw stars in his eyes, like Oikawa was just taken aback by every move the middle blocker made. Hell, maybe even every breath he took. Iwaizumi watched as the orange-haired ball of energy scored a point, yelling out in triumph. Oikawa seemed to smile with his eyes a little bit, his complexion brightening by the second. It was obvious what team he was mentally rooting for, even if he didn't say so himself.

Oikawa turned to Iwaizumi, probably to say some snotty remark about Ushiwaka, before noticing the latter was staring at him already. Chocolate-colored eyes met olive-colored ones, a blush rising on the setter's face. Oikawa quickly turned his head, his ears noticeably flushed.

Fuck. He's cute.

⊱ ─ ‧̥̥͙⋅. ♔ .⋅‧̥̥͙ ─ ⊰

⭒ dictionary !! ⭒

¶-12 : okāsan, お母さん : an honorific form of address; used to call someone else's mother.

¶-18 : gomen'nasai, ごめんなさい : i'm sorry

** some of the dialogue in this chapter is paraphrased or taken from the actual scene in [ haikyu!! ] . this was not with the intention to pass it off as my own original work : it was only put there to fit the timeline and script of the anime/manga. all rights reserved to haruichi furudate. **

chapter 5 !

[desirexwolf]

Night Before Christmas

Summary: Christmas had always been a quiet affair for the Parkers and when Peter met Tony Stark, he didn't think anything would change about that. Tony proves him wrong.

Word count: 2951

This is my entry for @irondadsecretsanta! I wrote this for the amazing @whumphoarder, happy holidays. <33

Winter had always been Peter's favorite time of the year. Ever since he could remember, December was the time of fairy lights, hot chocolate and May's burnt Christmas cookies. Ben would take Peter to pick out a Christmas tree and all three of them would decorate it afterwards. His uncle always picked Peter up to put the star on top even when Peter was already a teenager.

And then it was just May and Peter.

They spent their first Christmas after Ben's death in a diner down the street after May burnt the turkey, both of them silently wiping away tears. Neither of them really was in the Christmas spirit.

After that, May tried to give Peter a proper Christmas every year. The weeks leading up to the holidays she would take countless double shifts in the hospital to afford at least a Lego set for her nephew. It was different from what they were used to, but they made it work.

When Peter met Tony Stark, he didn't think anything would change about that.

But after the whole showdown with the vulture, the two of them got a lot closer than either of them originally anticipated. Peter regularly went to the compound for upgrades and after a while, he would spend whole weekends with Tony tinkering in his lab.

They didn't spend Christmas together, but they got each other presents and for New Year's Tony even invited him and May up to the compound.

Barely half a year later, Thanos invaded the earth. Then Titan happened.

When he woke up, five years had passed and Tony almost lost his life defeating Thanos. And now, December 23nd, he is sitting in the Stark's living room, surrounded by fairy lights in each corner of the room when a little thatch of brown hair comes rushing in and barreling into his legs.

"Petey!" Morgan climbs up on the spot next to him with a serious look on her face, skipping the greeting to focus on more serious matters. "Gerald needs a bell."

Peter grins. "Oh yeah and why is that?"

"Because someone's got a little bit too deep into the Christmas spirit while shopping," Tony calls. He enters the living room with a bag so huge he has to use both arms to carry it and drops it onto the dining table with a huff. "Isn't that right, Madam Secretary?"

Morgan just giggles.

Peter picks her up and walks over to Tony, sparing a glance into the overflowing shopping bag. "Jesus, how much did you buy?"

"Don't ask me, I just paid for the stuff. But someone else here was very convinced we could not celebrate Christmas without these," - Tony pulls out a box with obnoxiously white and pink Christmas balls - "very beautiful Hello Kitty decorations."

Morgan hides her face in Peter's neck with a mischievous smile and presses her cold nose against his skin. He wraps his left arm around her waist so he can look through the bag with the other hand, pushing through numerous fairy lights, candles and Christmas balls.

"Well, I don't see a bell," Tony quirks an eyebrow at him and Peter shrugs. "The Chef said Gerald needs a bell and I do agree. He does need a bell."

Tony scoffs. "You're supposed to agree with me here, you know?"

Peter just smiles while Morgan throws her arms around his neck in a strangling hug.

"Unbelievable, betrayed by my own blood. Savages, both of you." Tony says and wraps his arms around his daughter, pulling her away from Peter and tickling her sides.

Morgan squeals loudly and wiggles out of Tony's grasp. She slaps his hands away when he playfully jabs her side again. "Can I go look for Uncle Happy?"

"Sure you can. But don't talk him into Juice Pops before dinner, Mom sees everything, you know that!" Tony calls after her, but Morgan was already dashing out of the living room in search of her uncle.

Peter stifles a laugh and Tony turns to the teenager, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. "Yeah, laugh it up. Don't think I'm letting you off the hook, you'll help me unpack all of that."

Peter whines, but starts to take the decorations out off the shopping bag and throwing them onto the dining table. He's at his fourth packing of fairy lights when he speaks up. "Not to judge but, uh, where do you plan to put all of that?"

"The basement," Tony picks up a ginormous, fluffy elk with a Santa hat and examines it with a skeptical frown. "Pepper is going to have a fit when she sees all of that stuff, so let's pick up the pace, kiddo."

Peter grins, but keeps unpacking silently.

To be honest, Peter enjoys the overbearing Christmas spirit the Stark's have going on. And that does include all the unnecessary Christmas decorations, so he actually doesn't mind helping Tony unpack everything. Peter just hopes that May will think something similar when she joins them on Christmas Eve instead of finding it too overbearing. She was at a staff training in New Jersey over the weekend, which is why Happy had picked Peter up from school and brought him to the lake house to spend the days leading up to Christmas there.

"- Hey, kid, you listening to me?"

Peter jerks up, blinking at Tony. "Sorry, what? I- I didn't catch that."

"Yeah, I noticed," Tony smirks, but his smile is soft and his eyes held a fondness that was reserved only for his kids. "I asked how your Spanish exam went. You tired, kid?"

Now that Tony mentioned it, Peter realizes that he was tired. He had been generally exhausted for the past two weeks, but between finals and patrols he had paid that not a lot of thought. Now that he could relax, the ache in his bones became unpleasantly obvious.

"Worn out from finals, I guess." he admits sheepishly.

Tony nods and walks around the table to Peter. "Yeah, you look it." he mutters, running his flesh hand through the teenager's hair. Peter makes a sound of protest but it quickly dies down when he leans into the comforting touch. He reminds Tony of a kitten. "You wanna catch a quick nap before dinner? I got the rest of this. And

don't worry, I'll cover for you with Madam Secretary."

Peter chuckles quietly, feeling drained all of the sudden. "You sure?"

"100%. Now go before I change my mind." Tony says and gives Peter a gentle push towards the hallway before turning back to the dining table.

Peter just gives him a mock salute in return.

He can hear Morgans‘ enthusiastic chattering outside when he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door behind him, blocking out the noise. He shuts the window for good measure as well and pulls the curtains closed before crawling under the covers. Peter falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

X

It’s already dark outside when Pepper comes home from work. Tony had thankfully managed to clear all evidence of their Christmas shopping, stuffing most of it into already overbearing corners in the hope that his wife wouldn’t notice that way.

Morgan had claimed the hideous elk they bought as hers though, dragging both Happy and the stuffed toy into the living room to play while Tony prepared dinner.

After hearing his wife greet Morgan and Happy in the room next door Pepper joins Tony in the kitchen, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Where are you hiding Peter?”

“In his room, catching up on sleep before dinner.”

Pepper hums and leans over her husband’s shoulder to peek into the cooking pot. Tony turns around, putting his hands on Peppers waist and gives her a kiss to greet her properly.

“You’re just trying to keep me away from your chili, aren’t you?” she grins up at him, wrapping her arms around Tony’s neck.

“Well, is it working? It’s the only thing I can cook, you know.”

Pepper just chuckles quietly before going in for another kiss.

Tony breaks the embrace first, picking up the wooden spoon from the counter and holding it out to his wife. “Don’t let the food scorch while I go and wake Peter.

He hands the spoon over to Pepper and sticks his head into the living room to tell Happy and Morgan that dinner’s almost ready before heading down the hallway to

Peter’s room.

Tony stops in front of the door and knocks. “Peter,” he calls out. “Dinner’s ready.”

When he doesn’t receive a response, Tony huffs and opens the door. Unsurprisingly, Peter’s room is immersed into darkness, lights shut off and the curtains drawn. It’s only from the faint light in the hallway that Tony can see the bed and Peter, completely hidden under his comforter.

Tony makes his way over to him and peels the blanket away from the heap that is Peter. Woken up from the sudden movement, the teenager blinks up at him owlishly. “Good morning, sunshine,” Tony says and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Dinner’s ready. You want to try and emerge from your cave?”

Peter groans. He sits up and rubs his eyes, curls falling loosely into his face. “I slept. Why am I still so tired?”

“Burden of being a teenager, huh?”

Peter just glares at him halfheartedly and Tony pats Peter’s calf through the blanket. “C’mon, chop chop. Dinner’s getting cold.”

With a sigh Peter moves to get up from the bed and Tony waits until he’s on his feet before leaving the room.

In the kitchen Pepper was already serving the food while Morgan’s sitting at the table. Morgan beams as Tony enters room and he blows a raspberry on her cheek while passing by her seat. She giggles, but is already distracted when Peter shuffles into the kitchen.

“Petey”, she cheers and Peter tries to smile. “You’re awake!”

If you can call it that, Tony thought. In the bright kitchen light the kid looks the worse for wear, two shades too pale and deep bags under his eyes. But even though the kid’s obviously exhausted, he still tries to keep up his banter with Morgan and sits down beside her.

Tony keeps up conversation with Pepper during dinner, she tells him that Happy had to leave before dinner because he was needed in town, but he can’t help glancing back at Peter every now and then. He’s barely touching his food and when everyone else is already finished, not even half of it is gone.

“Didn’t you like it?” Morgan wonders loudly, suspiciously eyeing Peter’s plate.

Before Peter can response, Tony chimes in. “Morguna, why don’t you go in the living room and pick out a movie we can watch,” he gets up and loops an arm around Morgan’s waist, picking her up. “That sound like a good idea?”

“Yeah!” she cheers and Tony presses a series of kisses onto her cheek before she runs into the living room.

Pepper had already begun to collect the dishes and Tony quickly jumps in to help her with dish washing. Peter now gets up as well, bringing the last bowl over to the sink before asking if he can help out.

“Oh no, sweetie, I’ve got it covered.” Pepper assures him with a smile.

Tony goes to ruffle Peter’s hair, but halts when he comes into contact with his skin. He runs his hand through the kid’s hair until he can cup the back of his head and holds Peter in place to put his lips onto his forehead.

Peter balks, but Tony doesn’t pay that any attention and instead moves back with a frown and replaces his lips with a palm to the cheek. “You’re warm.”

“What’s going on?” Pepper asks over the running water, turning her head over her shoulder.

“Kid’s coming down with something.”

“I’m not,” Peter protests, moving back so he’s out of Tony’s reach. “I’m just tired, okay? Finals were exhausting and- and patrols just take longer now because apparently no one got the memo that you don’t do crimes on Christmas and-”

“Woah kid, hey,” Tony interrupts Peter, putting his hands down on his shoulders. “It’s fine. Let’s just take it easy tonight. C’mon, we’re going to sit down on the couch, I’m sure Morgan needs help picking out a movie.”

He guides one hand down to the small of Peter’s back and steers him towards the living room, but not before throwing a subtle look over his shoulder to Pepper. She looks after Peter concerned before catching Tony’s eye and giving him a meaningful look.

Tony gets Peter settled on the couch and tellingly, Peter lets Tony manhandle him for the most part. He’s just opened out a blanket and places it over Peter when Pepper joins them and sprawls out on the seat next to Tony, pulling Morgan into her lap after she chose Nightmare Before Christmas for them to watch. Tony snorts at the irony of that.

Peter curls up onto the couch, rearranging the blanket until it covered most of Tony’s lap as well before putting his head on Tony’s shoulder. Tony moves his arm around Peter and runs his hand through Peter’s curls, discreetly pulling out his phone to check Peter’s temperature.

He rarely uses FRIDAY these days, but for occasions like this he still had her installed in the lake house. Tony didn’t need her to power the suit anymore, so she was more of a convenience than anything else.

Peter’s temperature sits around 99.8 and while that wasn’t exactly a fever, it was an elevated temperature. Tony frowns as he looks down at Peter, brushing hair away from his forehead.

“What?” Peter suddenly asks, almost slurring with tiredness, and looks up at Tony blearily.

“Hm?”

“I can feel you starring at me,” he mumbles quietly to not distract Morgan from her movie, closing his eyes again and cuddling into Tony’s chest. “S’creepy.”

Tony snorts in amusement and lowers his cheek onto Peter’s head. “Go to sleep, kiddo.”

“M’kay.”

Sometime during the movie Morgan had moved to lay on both Tony and Pepper’s laps, snoring quietly and outstretched like a starfish which, to be honest, was pretty impressive given the little space she had. Pepper was leaning against his metal arm, playing with Morgan’s hair in her lap while Peter was asleep on Tony’s chest

Tony was drifting off himself when Pepper leans in. “I’m going to bring Morgan upstairs and then go to bed,” she whispers. “You want me to wait for you?”

Tony glances at Peter, then shakes his head. “No, it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

Pepper gives Tony a goodnight kiss before lifting Morgan up into her arms. She stirs but doesn’t wake and Pepper carries her out of the room, giving him and Peter a

soft smile before closing the door behind her.

X

When Peter wakes up the next morning it’s to a splitting headache.

He opens his eyes with a low moan, blinking until his vision clears up and realizes that he’s, in fact, not in his bed. He’s sprawled out on the couch, curled up to Tony with his head on the man’s chest.

Tony’s still asleep so Peter tries to sit up without waking him, but as soon as he moves pain shoots through his head and he flinches, letting out an involuntary groan.

“Peter?” Tony asks groggily, propping himself up onto his elbow. But as soon as he sees Peter, grimacing in pain, he sits up abruptly and puts a hand on Peter’s back. “Hey, kid, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Headache.” he croaks out and Tony puts the back of his hand to Peter’s forehead.

“Shit. Friday, temperature.”

“102.4° Fahrenheit, boss.” the AI answers and Tony pats Peter’s shoulder in sympathy, the teenager whining quietly.

Tony gets up from the couch. “Sit tight, kid.”

He disappears into the kitchen and Peter falls back onto the couch, curling up around a pillow and squeezing his eyes shut.

He must have dosed off again because he startles at the sound of the curtains being pulled shut. When he opens his eyes again, the room his comfortably dark and he watches Tony sit back down on the couch holding pain killers and a glass of water.

“Here,” Tony hands both over to Peter. “How are you doing? You feel like eating?”

“Not really.”

Peter takes the painkillers and drinks about half the glass of water before he puts it down on the coffee table. Tony’s not taking his eyes off him, face set into a worried frown.

“C’mon, say it.” Peter sighs.

“Say what?”

“That you were right and told me that I was coming down with something beforehand”, Peter settles down against the back off the couch and Tony moves to sit beside him. “I’m ruining Christmas.”

Tony ducks his head to meet Peter’s eyes. “You’re not ruining anything, kiddo, okay? I’ll take care of you and you’ll be fine by tomorrow, just wait. We'll make it work, I promise.”

Tony puts an arm around Peter and pulls him back against his side. Peter cuddles up to him again, resting his head on Tony’s chest while he pulls the blanket back over Peter. “You just rest now. I’m not going anywhere.” At the end of the day, Peter is still sick on Christmas Eve. He's running a decent fever and Tony dotes on him like a mother hen, making him broth and massaging his scalp to try and ease the headache while Morgan brings him Juice Pops he can't eat because he's nauseous. He wouldn't have it any other way.

My very tiny, very cute taglist of very tiny, very cute people (let me know if you want to be tagged for future works): @baloobird @toomuchtoread33 @fourleafchloe @gabesgoldwings @starbirks @yepokokfine ​@thatmarvelstan @autisticbabynurse @crytallized @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch @sbiderman-ironcan @iron-damn

[north-and-ellie]

On the Subject of North

So I recently made a post showing North in her ESA vest with one of her tags being, Service Dog in Training. Since then, I have received a few anonymous asks, a comment, and a message telling me the difference between an ESA and a Service Dog, some respectful, some not. One of the anons was even hateful, telling me I was disrespecting the ADA and all service dogs by claiming she is a Service Dog with my "attention-seeking ways."

Normally, this is something I would ignore. I know my situation. They don't. Granted, I have been very quiet on both this blog and my main blog so most of my followers don't know what is going on. The most I have shared was on a chapter update on AO3, which can be seen here.

And even then, this says next to nothing about what I have been going through emotionally. My videos with North say nothing about it either. Some disabilities are invisible. Anxiety is invisible. My followers didn't see how I had at least two anxiety attacks a day while hospitalized. My followers don't see how a simple thing such as going to the grocery store can turn into a nightmare as I try to hold back tears simply because of a minor inconvenience. They don't see how I start shaking in the car whenever a car in front of me gets too close, and how I've still been unable to even try to drive more than a month after the accident. They don't see me waking up every hour of the night, whether it is due to pregnancy pain or a nightmare. They don't feel the guilt I feel at being unable to handle certain tasks, especially since I'm supposed to be a mother soon.

They don't see how much North helps with this.

When we first adopted North, I'm not going to lie, I wanted my husband to take her straight back. This husky was loud, easily excitable, had severe separation anxiety, terrify my cats, and I got anxious leaving her home because I was scared she was going to get out, tear up my furniture, pee on the floor, or try to eat another battery so I burn my hand on the acid as I try to get it out of her mouth. And how incredibly selfish was I to want that.

We are North's fourth owner. She was nine months old when we got her. Nine freaking months. On top of that, she is a husky. Of course she has separation anxiety. Of course she would act out. Of course she is easily excitable and incredibly social. She was a husky puppy. And once we took a trip to my parents-in-law to Thanksgiving, the bond I formed with her completely destroyed any doubt that she belongs with me and my little family. She became my daughter, and I her doggy mom. She loves training and responds well to it. She loves people and animals, and has learned to be gentle when playing. She sleeps on the bed with me and constantly guards me while following me around the house. She is so smart, so sweet, so loving, so funny, and so North, how could I not love her? Sure, it took some work but she fits like a puzzle piece now.

It's almost common knowledge that huskies are working dogs. They need the constant physical and mental stimulation to be happy. So when my anxiety started to really act up, she was the perfect candidate to start training as a Service Dog, and my doctor agreed. I didn't want medication, talking to people just didn't seem to help, and as everything started getting worse and worse, I knew I needed a solution, and I needed one quick. I'm going to be a mother soon and I have responsibilities to my family. North became my solution.

North already does several things to help me, and everyone who knows us knows that I'm her person. Just as I go to her for comfort, she does the exact same. Just like I depend on her for protection, she depends on me. But as for how she helps me, let me list the ways.

Whenever I have an anxiety attack, she recognizes my "huff-cry" and she puts her paws on my shoulders and licks my face until I'm calm enough to breathe normally. If I try to push her off, she comes straight back and nudges my hands until I'm petting her. This was not trained but she does it every single time.

If someone acts threatening to me, she puts herself between me and them, and if they make a move toward me, she growls. If they try to place a hand on me, she places their hand/arm in her mouth and moves it. This was reinforced behavior she already had but she was trained to stop on command, and she does so, every single time.

Whenever I have a godawful day or if I come home in tears, she just seems to know and she presses herself against me and stays by my side until I feel better. Sometimes she brings me a toy to accomplish this. This was not a trained behavior but is reinforced.

She's always down for some petting and acts as my "shadow" so she is always available to be pet. Medical studies have proven that petting an animal has calming effects, and can even lower your blood pressure.

Seeing how she is incredibly insightful and intelligent, this makes her the perfect candidate to be MY Service Dog. Would she be perfect for everyone? Hell no. She is very high-energy and willfull. Just like I need a special dog, she needs a special person. However, as of right now, she is not ready to be a registered Service Dog.

While legally speaking in the US, there aren't a specific set of requirements, there are international guidelines and quite a few of the groups that register Service Dogs require that these dogs meet those guidelines before they'll register the dog. I also happen to agree with those guidelines, and I know use important it is that she is well behaved when in public, for our safety and the public image of the ADA. So, for now, she is an Emotional Support Dog. It doesn't give her the same rights and access as a Service Dog. However, she is protected in terms of housing and can accompany me on airplanes. My hospital in particular allows them, although not all do. For now, it'll have to do while I train her, and work with a trainer, so she can properly do her job and learn a few more behaviors to mitigate my attacks.

And while Emotional Support is not officially listed as a proper task, it helps far more than you know. Before you judge my situation and name names, keep in mind that you know nothing about my situation. You know nothing because you are not entitled to know my situation. I'm simply sharing this so I can stop this before it becomes a problem. And never once did I claim she is a Service Dog. I made a tag: Service Dog in Training. Not Service Dog. Service Dog in Training.

Please be respectful to others and don't buy into this "attack" culture before you know the full story. Save that for when the disrespect is real and there is actually a problem.

[austenpoppy]

When fanfiction begins to be worrying

Warning : Ron-lovers, if you read this it is at your own peril. I am already suffering from long-lasting damage. Vivi, don't read. Really. Don't. Trust me.

We won't even talk about incest and other criminal and sickening fanfictions, which are mostly rejected by the fandom with the utmost disgust - fortunately.

No, no, what I'm going to talk about is admired by a - sadly - large part of the fandom. I was just looking for a cool fanfiction about Ron during my break when I found this, on the first page : "101 ways to kill Ron Weasley."

I know, I shouldn't have clicked on the link, but I couldn't help myself. I had to know.

This is the Author's note :

"This story is inspired by Crys' 1001 Deaths of Lord Voldemort on

For many of us, we hate one character in canon more than any other. No, not Lord Voldemort. I am, of course, talking about Ron Weasley.

Ron is lazy, stupid, annoying, and, in my opinion, mentally retarded.

Now, many in the fanfiction community hate Ginny much more than Ron; however, I find that to be more based upon their experiences with fanfiction than Ginny's actual roll in canon. Let's all be honest, outside of CoS and a cameo in OoTP, Ginny has very few lines and almost no involvement in the plot while Ron plays the role of a giant douchebag throughout the books.

This story, which I hope people will enjoy, is my way of killing off the dumbass in as many colorful ways as possible.

In case you can't tell, expect major Ron!Bashing."

...

I should have stopped as soon as I read this. I didn't, pushed by a morbid curiosity : I wanted to know how far people were ready to go. Useless to say that I bitterly regret it.

First, notice here that Voldemort and Ron are the only characters that I know of who have entire fanfics dedicated to kill them.

Voldemort and Ron are put on the same level. A teenager, the best friend of the hero and a hero himself, is compared to a psychopath and a murderer.

Moreover, I have to underline that the author judges Ron as "mentally retarded". I find it worrying. Just because a teenager have not the same grades as the best student in his year, just because he does not display the same way of thinking as his clever best friend does not mean he is stupid. Far from that.

That is a judgement on intelligence that I think is horrible. You have to know that intelligence, despite what tests such as IQ's claim, can not be really measured. It depends on so many factors. The results of IQ tests depend themselves on so many factors.

Furthermore, having real problems to understand things should be seen as a disability, a handicap and not an insult. It is a very difficult situation to deal with.

Also notice that the intellect is one the major criteria differencing the characters for those people. Intellect is practically above everything else.

I read the fanfiction, constituted of two chapters and multiple drabbles.

First reaction :

First one : Ron dies from eating too much. He chokes on his food.

Second one : In first year, wanting to prove a point to Hermione, Ron willingly mispronunces a spell and conjures a buffalo which crushes him

Third one : In Deathly Hallows, Ron takes the locket with him when he leaves. Harry and Hermione try to stop him and splinch him (he is split in two), but they don't recover the Horcrux. Last sentence : "Even in death, Ron Weasley found a way to be a pain in the ass."

Fourth one : Ron, charged by Harry to give Hedwig her treats, eats them in front of her. Hedwig, with the help of thousands other owls, avenges herself by attacking and killing Ron. Reminding of "The birds" by Hitchcock.

Fifth one : Ron, jealous, accuses Hermione of loving Harry and calls her "a Mudblood". She kills him. Harry and her hide Ron's body before they have sex. Petty remark about the length of Harry and Ron's manhoods. Note of the "author" explaining that it was a summary of another fic.

Sixth one : the Trio enters Bellatrix's vault. Ron is immediately fascinated by the amount of money and begins to steal it despite his friends' warnings. He burts into flames and jinxes his friends. Particularly petty sentence : "He never knew, or cared, that his greed had doomed them as well."

Seventh one : Ron speaks proudly about the unbreakable vow he made when he was five. Hermione asks him what it was about, he says he had sworn he would never say he wasn't a jobbernowl, he dies. Worst thing : use of a real passage of the book.

Eighth one : Ron dies on the chess set. His sacrifice is presented as stupid because it 'had to be another way.'

Nine : Harry uses Sectumsempra on Ron while he is sleeping. Ron dies. Harry transforms his corpse into a sock and burns it.

Last one : after Ron is made prefect, Hermione refuses to have him as a partner, jinxes him and kills him "for the greater good." Particularly nasty sentences : "Harry looked at the badge and fought the urge to go downstairs and ask McGonagall and Dumbledore if they were high when they selected the male Gryffindor prefect this year." / "'Sure', Ron said, completely shocked. 'I was positive you would get it, Harry.' 'You and the rest of the world,' Harry thought darkly." / "I can already see Ron not taking his duties seriously and flaunting the privileges that prefects normally deserve."

I won't comment all of them, but I really want to say something about some of them.

The first one uses a trope overused in Ron-bashing fanfiction : the fact that Ron eats a lot and sometimes speaks with his mouth full. Obviously, the author has forgotten what it is to be a teenager, and especially a thin teenager. Their metabolism needs food, and loads of food, because they are growing up and thin people tend to burn off energy more rapidly.

The fourth makes me sick. (Not that they don't all make me want to throw up.) First since it uses the overused trope I have already mentioned. Moreover for Ron would definitely do what Harry asks him to do, and for Ron is definitely not cruel. And thirdly because... THE BIRDS ! Does it ring a bell, a physical assault on Ron with birds ?

The fifth one. There is absolutely no universe where Ron, I'm-going-to-kill-Malefoy-with-my-bare-hands!Ron, would call Hermione a Mudblood. No. Way.

The sixth. Just because Ron said once something like "It would be nice to have galleons for a change", once "I hate being poor" (ONCE !!!), "Lucky you" (referring to Harry not noticing the difference on his amount of gold when the fake money disappeared), "Where's mine ?" (asking Bill where his money was because Bill has just given Harry a purse full of gold), that's it, Ron is greedy. Just because he doesn't want to be in need. Although he never complained that much.

These people hating Ron for he does not like to be poor are just self-righteous and have very probably never lived in the same situation. They have never been homeless, have received all the gifts for Christmas they wanted, have lived in a warm and comfortable house. It's easy to think about morals when your stomach is full, your health is perfect and well taken care of, and your basical material needs are fulfilled.

I remember a story my dance teacher told me : there was a poor woman in Africa who had lost a husband, a son and a leg in a war and still considered herself luckier than a French homeless person because she had a roof above her head.

I'm not saying that losting a loved one is less terrible. Nothing is more terrible.

Just that hating a fourteen-years old boy who never received another Christmas gift than a maroon jumper he hates but still puts on without really complaining because his mother made it, because he would like to have clothes that fit him or galleons he could spend to offer things to his friends is stupid. Really. And shows a lack of empathy.

Moreover, it's not as if Ron was not generous. All he has he shares it. His galleons, he mostly spends it on gifts for his friends. He gave his Christmas gifts to an house-elf. Ron has a really big, big heart and nothing is more important to him than his friends and family.

Eight. Just. How dares he / she ? That's what I hate with this fandom. Everything is twisted to correspond to the views of people.

Last. The prefect badge. My god the prefect badge. Maybe the most disgusting one, because Harry and Hermione are depicted as thinking the worst of him and somehow echo the 'No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect'. The fact that Ron is often belittled by the fans who don't think he deserved the badge is reminiscent of the fact that Ron didn't either. Ron didn't think he deserved it. That makes me soooo angry.

Pansy Parkinson deserved her badge, but Ron ? Nooooo of course.

The question of worthiness in Ron-bashing is central. People operate a grading : some characters are better than others. The worst is to think that they do it in real life.

I am really naive. I thought that most readers would be inflamed by such display of stupidity. How wrong I was ! This story had 242 reviews, whose only 12 were critical. On the twelve crital ones, 4 were saying that Ron was just an ordinary teenager with no talent, but that it was a shame to dislike him for that.

The rest ?... At this point I don't know if I want to cry or burst into flames out of rage.

I have warned you before. I warn you again. Be aware of the violence of what will follow.

"More!

In order to get a good nights sleep, I need to read about Ron dying in horrendous and funny ways, due to his folly and vices."

At this point it looks like a caricature, doesn't it ? We can notice, however, that people vent out their frustrations and violence on fictional characters. It's up to you if it is good or not. I think it is sick to post it on the Internet, on a personal level.

"A note to a couple of Ron fanboys that posted. First, don' t like? Don' t read. You can tell it is a bashing story from the summary. Second; each person can interpret the canon events the way he wants. Personally, i see it like this: Ron betrayed and abandoned his supposed best friend when he needed help the most. Twice. And he never even apologised properly! It is not our best moments and actions that show us who we really are, but our worst ones. Because, usually, that is when one lets his true self show. Ron is not a bad person, but he is an idiot in canon."

It actually reflects a way of thinking. Ron is defined by the moment he felt betrayed and argued against his best friend - and he tried to apologize, though didn't make Harry apologize for hitting him - and the moment he left under mental torture - the first one who tells me Ron isn't strong-willed will have to run really fast from my anger, because Ron resisted possession and once rebelled against a thought mass murederer on a broken leg and they know nothing about torture -. For this kind of people, you can't have flaws. You can't be faulty. You have to be perfect. You can't ever be forgiven. This is unhealthy.

"*Insane laugh* I love this story! I've always hated Ron. *Sigh* If only he died in cannon, then my life would be complete!"

Once again I am amazed by the VIOLENCE of such a statement.

"I just love the first one where Ron dies while stuffing his face. I have often thought that he had either Bulima or a tapeworm. I have actually seen someone eat like him. It turned out that this person was Bulimic. How else does someone stuff himself and remain skinny?"

It displays a total lack of understanding of what eating disorders really are. Those are disorders which are really extremely difficult to deal with on a daily basis. They are mistaken here with bad eating manners.

"Are you in middle schoolers? Because that's how they teach you how to write in middle school. Also, Ron IS stupid. His grades show that. And Hermione is always caring and helping Harry, even when Ron is off sulking, jealous of Harry. And who cares if Ron came back after leaving? He still left! And getting his ass off of bed is not an excuse for Ron. He only goes along with Harry because he needs to! To keep being Harry's friend, that is. You're actually as mentally deficient as Ron is, and I hope you learn some proper fucking grammar."

Once again intelligence is confused with good grades. That's how you end up with teachers telling students who don't have good grades that they are too stupid to do anything of their life. Ron is here considered as an opportunist. As if he had chosen to be friends with Harry for fame -internal scream. As if being friends with Harry was easy. As if he had not commited his life to help his friends. Notice that once again someone is judges according to his so-called bad actions (to me, Ron leaving is not a mistake Ron did, as I said multiple times already).

"Oi weasel!, for the first and final time, there will never be an Hermione and you, so stop dreaming about her; she's way, out of your league, otherwise l will make you into an weasel patty..."

Love is seen as a question of worthiness.

"Can the Basilisk eat him? please please let the Basilisk eat him"

Once again the violence strucks me.

"ugh i hate him 2 he always runs away or gets jelous. The one thing he did was play stupid chess. Like geez. I love the owl 1".

Chess is considered stupid. CHESS IS CONSIDERED STUPID, BUT WRITING AN ENTIRE FANFIC TO KILL A FICTIONAL CHARACTER IS NOT. Those people are sickeningly judgemental and self-righteous.

"Thank you, I really needed a good laugh and nothing is more funny than Ron dying in horrific, nasty ways."

*throws up*

"Hilarious. Keep updating. I can't stand Ron. The flaws of Snape, Albus, Remus, Sirius and the rest makes them interesting characters. The flaws of Ron make him a putz."

Notice that Ron is the one character that apparently can't be forgiven for his flaws. Ever.

"Lol, Keep killing Ron, it's enjoyable. It's a good stress reliever to read these. :)

See ! Ron is nothing more than a punching ball to those people. I'm scared, really. Their immaturity is worrying.

"I agree with you about Ron he really is a good for nothing person in canon."

*sees red* That's what I'm fighting against in real life. People telling teenagers (and here one of the most admirable fictional teenagers I've ever seen) with a crippling lack of self-esteem that they are worthless. DON'T LISTEN TO THEM !

"this is so funny. i love the owl treats one. my favourite so far. anyone who dares say this is rubbish will face my anger, dont worry. just because it wont happen in canon dosent mean its not good."

Well, sorry to break it to you, but this is rubbish.

"Harry could have been the next Voldermort or Dumbledore if Ron hadn't infected him wi"

Ron and his friendship with Harry are seen as DISEASES.

"Weasley must die! Weasley must die!"

"I actually don't mind Ginny as a character, but Ron has always severely irritated me. The ending to Deathly Hallows was disappointing - how could JKR stick Hermione with a git like that? Ron's been nothing but awful to her since day one, and let's not even get started on how he's treated Harry...

Not really such a "loyal" sidekick, is he? When it all comes down to it, he's a selfish prat, thinking of nobody but himself. The PoA incident with Crookshanks, then GoF when he accused Harry of putting his name into the Goblet - there's been numerous occaisions in which that red haired git has allowed his jealously to get the better of him and abandoned his friends all because of his own petty insecurities.

Halfway through Deathly Hallows, I was ready to strangle him. I know the locket probably brought most of it on - but I don't see that as an excuse for him to throw a childish temper tantrum and blow up about Harry not knowing what he's doing. Okay, so you miss mummy's cooking, and living your life as a lazy sloth..

No reason to take it out on your two best friends. At least your parents are still alive, you ignorant MORON. I was rather pleased when Harry told him off, though. :)

All in all; Ron has always been an annoying, pain in the butt character to me. Utterly useless, really.

I can't wait to see what other creative ways you come up with to kill him.

*adds story to favorites*

Weasley is NOT my king."

So many things wrong.

Ron has been nothing other than awful to Hermione ? What about 'You're the most wonderful person I've ever met ?' 'She's been perfect, as usual.' ? What about getting detention several times (and one washing bedpans) for defending her ?

[blindsprings]

(2/2) (hopefully Tumblr doesn't eat these!) How/why did you pick words like “Exordior,” the spells/seals/symbols/tools the Academics use, invoking gods like Harpocrates, the Spirits having such a large role, different rituals like songs/using Lodestones, etc? I know these are super specific and answering it all could be asking way too much, I’m mainly wondering what the worldbuilding process was like for you relating to these traditions!

Unfortunately, tumblr ate the first one!!! 

The explanation for why those things, in particular, is varied, and mostly boils down to “I thought it was interesting.”

In general, when I’m worldbuilding, I like to fit things together like puzzle pieces, even if you’re starting with varied themes. Blindsprings is a little odd, where even though it’s a straight fantasy, and they’re not on our earth, certain words and ideas persist-- you can absolutely make everything up, but if the explanation of those ideas is also complicated, sometimes using names that people are familiar with pushes your idea forward and is a bit more clear. 

With books, you can absolutely get away with making up both the ideas and the words, as the explanations of these ideas makes up a good chunk of books. But in comics, either the explanation needs to be brief, or you set the comic up in some way that the explanations are part of the story, and are interesting. It also helps if they are visually consistent-- since academic magic is a certain shade of blue, if i had an entirely wordless page of a pan through a city, but the last panel had a blue light coming from a window, that does, in fact, give the viewer information.

So exordior was used rather than a made-up word (and it couldn’t be a normal word, or else you’d be setting off seals willy-nilly) because it’s a simple google search to find out the meaning -- exordior (present infinitive exordīrī, perfect active exorsus sum); fourth conjugation, deponentI begin, commence (originally in weaving) 

I don’t know latin, so I’m pulling a JK Rowling here.

As for the other things:

* why I used seals: my dad’s a draughtsman and has so many tools for drawing geometric shapes, back when he made house plans by hand. I really loved Card Captor Sakura's seals and cards. (surprisingly, I only watched FMA for the first time a year after my comic came out and was a little sheepish about how I put it off for so long)

*Invoking gods like Harpocrates: This is an example of adding too much information without knowing where the heck your story is going, so this Academic god stuff has been hanging over my head for four years-- I finally have an explanation for it that fits in-comic, so that’ll be an annotation once this chapter closes.

*Spirits having such a large role: the spirits are somewhat the amalgamation of Rasputin in regards to their spiritual role and in the downfall of the Llyns. I also just really like stories with powerful beings that have a lot of rules for their power.

*Different rituals/using lodestones: I’ve always been very interested in world religions, ancient and modern, and actually was planning to become an archaeologist/work as a history professor had I not found myself working in the art field. And lodestones and dowsing was always a very interesting topic to me, so I filed all of the information away and added it to the worldbuilding pot if it fit.

Worldbuilding, for me, is more like history building-- you can’t just have things happen just because, the world needs to feel like it had a past. If you know the situation that characters are in, work backwards and think, why would that be the case? What things preceded the current situation? Are tensions high, or is everything hunky-dory, and was that ever different in the past? etc etc etc-- history is full of examples of really intense situations and what critical events led up them. 

[notasdriedapricots]

Well, @gin-o-clock here you have a translation, just in case ���

Oh, Rara, Rara... It's... strange saying your name because it's also a word in Spanish. A word I don't think fits you unless it's used in the good way, but that's another subject. It's super weird writing in Spanish when my brain associates (you and tumblr in general) with English. I'M RAMBLING AGAIN, see how it has nothing to do with the language?

ANYWAY. I told you the other day that I couldn't put into coherent English my reaction to your chapter, so let's try it this way. First off, it's spec-ta-cu-lar I hope I spaced that correctly; everything, absolutely everything, it doesn't have a single flaw. The narration? Perfect. The dialogue? Incredible. The details? Immaculate. The pacing? Impeccable. The characters? I already love them.

Second, the vibe; son of a bitch ("daughter of a bitch"? I don't know, I'm calling you names affectionately), how dare you tell me I'm good at writing, you're laughing in my face. The vibe of that little universe jumps from the chapter and wraps you up completely to the point where I feel like I'm watching a movie instead of reading. It's precise, concise, effective, and unique. It fits Este, it fits Lucas, it fits Henrik, it fits with everything.

Third, there's a beautiful balance between present and past, like some kind of flashback masterfully hidden in the narration. If you were worried it would be pure background and little action, you were so wrong; it feels necessary and pertinent, completely far from any hint of exposition. That past frames the actions and adds a layer of meaning to them that they wouldn't have on their own. It's not condescending towards the reader; it doesn't say "this feels like this because of this other thing that happened before". No, it gives you the framework first and the climate by itself affects the interpretation of everything that is actually happening in that moment.

Fourth, THE DETAILS. There's so many details sprinkled inadvertently but that have so, so much weight. The fact that you decided to add them when and where you did is talent, woman, there's no way around it. You could have omitted them, because by themselves they don't affect the plot, but they add to the depth of the story you're telling, and the characters (your characters) that inhabit them. All those details, all those little choices you made, do nothing else than adding to that feeling that that world is theirs, not ours.

This is where I picked the draft back up and I don't remember what the fuck else I was gonna say so I think we'll leave it here, until the next chapter. Hey, I tried to be half-coherent and I think that something came out. ANYWAY. You're ✨the best✨.

Bye.

Heeeeey, @gin-o-clock what up? I forgot this has been in my drafts since you published your first chapter, so here it is. It's too late for me to actually translate it because slang, you know? But I will do it tomorrow, I promise lol. In the meantime... Have fun with Google's shitty translator 😘 😂

Ay, Rara, Rara... Es... extraño decir tu nombre porque es también una palabra en español. Una palabra que no creo que te identifique a menos que se use en el buen sentido, pero eso es tema aparte. Es rarísimo escribir en español cuando mi cerebro te asocia (a vos y a tumblr en general) con el inglés. ESTOY DIVAGANDO DE NUEVO, ¿ves que no tiene que ver con el idioma?

EN FIN. Te dije el otro día que no podía poner en un inglés coherente mi reacción a tu capítulo, así que tratemos en por acá. Primero, es es-pec-ta-cu-lar; todo, absolutamente todo, no tiene un solo defecto. ¿La narración? Perfecta. ¿Los diálogos? Increíbles. ¿Los detalles? Inmaculados. ¿El ritmo? Impecable. ¿Los personajes? Ya los amo.

Segundo, la ambientación; hija de puta, con qué cara me decís que escribo bien, te me estás cagando de risa. La onda de ese pequeño universo salta desde el capítulo y te envuelve completamente al punto de que siento que estoy viendo una película en vez de leyendo. Es preciso, conciso, efectivo, y único. Encaja con Este, encaja con Lucas, encaja con Henrik, encaja con todo.

Tercero, hay un balance hermoso entre el presente y el pasado, como una especie de flashback escondido magistralmente en la narración. Si te preocupaba que fuesen puros antecedentes con poca acción, estabas equivocadísima; se siente necesario y pertinente, completamente alejado de cualquier dejo de exposición. Ese pasado enmarca las acciones y les agrega una capa de significado que por sí solas no tendrían. No es condescendiente para con el lector; no dice "esto se siente así porque esto otro pasó antes". No, te enmarca primero y el clima por sí mismo influye en la interpretación de todo lo que sí está pasando en ese momento.

Cuarto, LOS DETALLES. Hay tantos detalles espolvoreados inadvertidamente pero que tienen tanto, tanto peso. El hecho de que hayas decidido agregarlos cuando y donde lo hiciste es talento, mujer, no hay con qué darle. Podrías haberlos obviado, porque en sí no influyen en la trama, pero agregan a la profundidad de la historia que estás contando, y los personajes (tus personajes) que la habitan. Todos esos detalles, todas esas pequeñas decisiones que tomaste, no hacen más que sumar a esa sensación de que ese mundo es suyo, no nuestro.

Acá es donde retomé el borrador y ya no me acuerdo qué mierda más iba a decir así que me parece que lo dejamos acá, hasta el próximo capítulo. Che, traté de ser medianamente coherente y creo que algo quedó. EN FIN. Sos ✨la mejor✨

Chau.