#sin is like basically one of my comfort characters so-

[robyntherav3n]

who is your favorite gg character???

this is important, i will judge you based on this

i have far too many but the ones that make me go apeshit (affectionately) are:

elphelt, sin, johnny, testament, both of the bedsibs (specifically delilah), jack-o, axl, aba, raven, andddddd dizzy

i like everyone else too but those are the ones i adore (answer is an honorable mention i love him too)

also i have a weird love-hate relationship with ariels. i can’t bring myself to hate her entirely

[creepzkilla]

Jahaiahaiahajajs I'm so glad your back!!!

I have an idea for you >:)=

Can I request some of your darkest headcannons for the Proxies? Like what are their toxic traits, it can sfw or nsfw or anything but the request is basically how dark and evil can they be?

I hope this makes sense and you don't have to do it, it's only of you're comfortable!

↳˳⸙;; ❝ HOW DARK ARE THE PROXIES? HC'S! ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗:

★Tumblr relies on reposting, please repost my work.★

tw. warning— mentions of self harm, mentions of aggressive actions, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of sexual ordeals

[A/N]— theme change?!??? pls let me know if u guys wanna be tagged in the next post! also i wanted to do the pastas as realistic as possible… should i make a post on how the proxies + others met their lover😴 or just my general hc’s?

THE QUESTION ITSELF IS FUNNY—

the proxies are slashers— murderers. psychopathic, deranged men that are hardly short of completely and utterly insane. their sanity-if they have any- is practically none besides possibly a sliver of humanity. if anything, they aren’t even men— they were resurrected from the pits of hell itself and placed on this god forban world. the atrocities that these men have commited rightly earns them the title of not men— but demons. their sinful actions could never be erased, not even if they bathed in the waters of Babylon. the screams, cries, the sobs of their victims as they carry out their orders doing god knows what to them, will forever be ingraved into their very being. not even god can save them from their damnation— if anything god is laughing.

SANITY IS NOT SOMETHING OF LUXURY FOR THE PROXIES—

it’s something that fought for. everyday, it’s a constant battle for control—the continuous thirst to satisfy the need to kill. not to mention the the operators hold on their minds, making them carry out heinous missions consisting of nothing but death and blood. their minds are plagued with nightmares of what they have done, on repeat like a broken record, replying over and over. yet, behind the insanity, the malice, the control over their minds, they have regained just a sliver of sanity. it’s not like they want to kill—but they have to. for the operator… for this urge. little by little, they begin to feel like an actual human being. but it’s not like you know anything.

TOBY ERIN ROGERS—

is the most far gone. since the operator took over his mind at such a young age without much resistance , he has the pleasure of sculpting toby’s mind into the perfect cast. despite the most—insane, he’s the one that hangs onto his sanity the strongest. almost like he’s able to flip it on and off like a switch. yet, the line between sanity and insanity draws very thin, so he can’t help it when… it slips sometimes.

Self-Destructive Tendencies: Toby's self-destructive tendencies, which are often associated with his character, could negatively impact the relationship. This is either emotional or physically. He may engage in self-harm or reckless behaviors, disregarding the well-being of you and causing them emotional distress and constant worry.

Emotional Instability: Toby's own emotional instability could create an unpredictable and volatile environment within the relationship. His mood swings, anger outbursts, and tendency to lash out verbally or physically could cause you to constantly walk on eggshells.

Explosive Anger: Toby may have anger management issues that result in explosive outbursts. He might have difficulty controlling his temper, leading to verbal or even physical aggression toward his partner. This behavior creates an environment of fear and intimidation.

Jealousy and Insecurity: Toby might struggle with feelings of jealousy and insecurity, leading him to exhibit possessive behavior. This could manifest in him constantly questioning your actions or relationships with others, even if there is no real cause for concern.

Over-Dependency: Toby may have a tendency to become overly dependent on you, relying on you for emotional stability and validation. This can lead to an unhealthy dynamic where he becomes possessive or overly clingy, causing his partner to feel suffocated or trapped.

HOW FAR WOULD TOBY GO—

well, he certainly wouldn’t go far enough to hurt you, no, never. he is specifically always careful not to harm you, especially during sex. but that wouldn’t mean that he would hurt you emotionally or mentally. his favorite punishment is ignoring you. he’d shun you for days on end in your shared apartment, just to teach you a lesson which is very rare. physically, he treats you like a delicate glass doll that could break at any moment. during sex, it’s almost like he’s afraid to touch you. he doesn’t want to corrupt you like the way he is… he wants to preserve your innocence, and your being, and because of that, he would do anything to protect you. anyone who would ever do you wrong would soon come under his hatchet in the most painful way imaginable.

Dark and Evil level: 6/10, Moderate, just "protective"

TIMOTHY WRIGHT(MASKY)—

is in a constant fight for control, more so than the other proxies. In Marble Hornets, it is referenced that he may have Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). because of this, he comes into the separate entity known as Masky during blackouts. the operator has stalked timothy ever since he was a child and anyone else he came in contact with. the operator is setting his sights on timothy so young he can influence him just enough to do his bidding. of course, timothy hates the operator and works against him, but after so long, after all the pain and blood, he’s just too tired to fight back anymore. Masky, hates this. he hates that timothy gives up too quickly. during missions, a blackout is typically triggered, giving Masky complete control. and so soon enough Masky became tired as well. and then killing became second nature.

Controlling Behavior: Tim, overwhelmed by his own insecurities and paranoia, becomes possessive and controlling in his relationship. He constantly questions and monitors your actions, isolates them from friends and family, and exhibits manipulative behavior to maintain control.

Emotional Withdrawal: Tim, due to his secretive and guarded nature, may struggle with opening up emotionally to his significant other, that being you. He might withdraw from sharing his thoughts and feelings, leaving you feeling neglected or shut out.

Jealousy and Possessiveness: Tim's loyalty and protectiveness towards his friends, particularly towards Jay, might manifest as excessive jealousy and possessiveness in a romantic relationship. He may feel threatened by your interactions with others and attempt to control or isolate you.

Neglecting Emotional Support: Tim's own emotional struggles consume him, leaving little room for providing adequate emotional support to his partner, you. He may dismiss your concerns, minimize your feelings, or fail to offer the empathy and understanding you need, leaving you feeling unheard and invalidated.

Anger Issues: Tim/Masky occasionally displays violent and unpredictable behavior, driven by his internal struggles and external pressures. In a relationship, this volatility could lead to outbursts of anger, creating an unstable and potentially harmful environment for you

TIMOTHY AND MASKY WOULD NEVER HURT YOU—

not without reason. mentally or emotionally, timothy understands human emotions, despite not having any himself. yet, when he’s around you, everything changes. suddenly, he can feel again, suddenly, he has the strength to fight back. you are everything to him. the only good in this hell-bent world. he needs you, and he can’t let you leave him. so you can’t blame him when he starts chewing nicotine gum, “claiming to quit cigs.” you can’t blame him when he stops taking his gum out when he kisses you, “he forgets to.” you can’t blame him when suddenly all you want to do is kiss him. but it's not enough, no, no, no. he needs to make sure that your, 're addicted to him, completely and utterly infatuated with him. so, you can't blame him when he starts wearing nicotine patches, "the gum just wasn't working." you can't blame him when he starts placing the patches on you when you're sleeping next to him. you cant blame him when you practically breakdown when he leaves you, only for a few hours. you cant blame him when you feel a pinch on you arm during sex, when he stuck the nicotine patch into your arm without you seeing, saying that "oh darling its nothing." you can't blame him when you've become addicted to his presence and cock. no you don't understand, you really just can't blame him, he wants to keep you safe, really, he promises.

Dark and Evil level: 8.5/10, Very high, obsessive and insane.

BRIAN THOMAS (HOODY)—

has the most grip on reality. like tim, he has blackouts to which he comes into the separate being known as “Hoody”. also like Tim, he hates the operator. at first, he resisted, refusing to carry out those abominations; its heinous fantasies of mass destruction. except he was more willing than his counterpart, timothy. brian is calculating, he's a smart guy, he understood what would happen to him if he disobeyed the operator. the most excruciating torture that anyone has ever gone through. proxy brainwashing is no joke. he's not stupid, so that's why he's played the long game. do the operator's bidding until he's able to conjure a plan, it'll only be for a few, just until he can figure out how to get out of this hell space. soon "a few" turned into months. soon "months" turned into years. then suddenly he stopped keeping track. and then, he started to enjoy it.

Isolation and Control: Brian might isolate you from your friends and family, attempting to control who you interact with and where you go. By limiting your support networks, Brian exerts more control over their life, making it challenging for you to maintain independence and make your own decisions.

Difficulty Opening Up: Brian/Hoody's burden of guilt and emotional turmoil might make it challenging for him to open up and share his vulnerabilities. This could create a one-sided dynamic in the relationship, with you having to provide emotional support without receiving reciprocation, potentially leading to resentment and emotional imbalance.

Manipulative: brian plays on the emotions and insecurities of those around him, manipulating their feelings to further his own agenda. he understands their weaknesses and uses psychological tactics to subtly influence their actions, pushing them towards his desired outcomes.

Apathetic: Brian's apathy also masks underlying insecurities and vulnerabilities. By presenting himself as emotionally detached, he avoids exposing his true feelings and weaknesses to others. .

Emotional Unavailability: Brian/Hoody's reserved and stoic nature could make it difficult for him to express his emotions or be emotionally available in a relationship. He might struggle to communicate his feelings or provide the necessary emotional support to you, leading to a sense of distance and detachment.

BRIAN AND HOODIE ARE NEVER GONNA LET YOU GO--

you are the one thing that is keeping him sane. so don't even think about leaving him. you wouldn't get the chance anyways. your everything that he's ever wanted, there is not a chance in hell that he's gonna have you slip through his fingers. he can be mean sometimes, but he doesn't mean it, it just slips out! typically when he gets back from "work", he's aggravated, its like he's a different person. he's cold, calculating, a robot practically; so you cant blame him when he needs something to release his sexual frustration. he just loves pleasing himself inside of you, he loves the way your body reacts to his corruption. now since your body is "bound" to him, he still needs to take extra precautions to keep you from leaving... specifically, brian will pit you aganist your friends and anyone close. pointing out how your friend's remark was passive-aggressive, pointing out details on how your friends "don't care about you, how they will never care about you, how he is the only person that will ever truly care about you. of course, he leaves you at least one friend, maybe two if he's feeling generous, he doesn't want you to go insane after all.

Dark and Evil level: 7/10, Getting up there, crazy ex bf vibes

Toxic traits that all proxies/creepypasta have in my opinion:

Stalking

Manipulative

Gaslighting

Apathetic

Mean :(

Sexually all pastas have a corruption kink-- some more than others

DEEP DOWN THE PROXIES ARE STILL HUMAN--

after everything they've been through, after everything they have seen, they're just scared kids. their lives were stripped away from them at such a young age, their lives were just beginning--now its like they don't even live at all. they never wanted to do this, they never wanted to kill, they never wanted to serve an eldritch demon of mass power, they just wanted to grow up. be a kid, go to college, and have a life. maybe in a different universe, a different timeline, maybe just maybe, everything is the way it should be. maybe they arent as fucked up as they should be.

🏷️— @spookyravioli

[iris-drawing-stuff]

Whenever I get a new, interest I look at my favorite characters and go "Put their ass in prison," so here's Dmitry in Milgram.

Also, just for funsies, let's judge him. Imagine that Comfort Zone is his first trial song.

Some thoughts about this AU under the cut.

"Focus, channel and then discard

Now, sympathy has no place in a righteous heart"

The facility used Dmitry for experiments, and it's implied that part of that was killing other mutants. They would be his murder/s

Voting-wise, I think this could lead to an Amane-like situation where people vote him guilty to try to teach him that he was in the wrong. I'd like to think it would backfire just as badly.

I think the environment of Milgram would remind Dmitry of the facility. Milgram is basically one big weird experiment. The only upside for him would be the fact that Anya is there (IDK what her murder would be, but I am not seperating them).

Full body

Also, here's the other 2 ideas for his victim that I came up with:

1. Yura

"Keep barking all you want, cutting to the bone

You are like a cornered dog, cut the microphone"

In Convergence, he really wanted to kill Yura, and the only thing stopping him was his threat to make things worse for Olya. What if he was just a bit more impulsive and straight up killed him? I like this idea the least because we can't make Yura another prisoner if he's dead.

2. Katya

"Hey don't you realize...

That this life's not fit for the likes of you and I"

Okay... this is my most out there choice. Basically, when Katya gets captured and brought back to the facility, they kill her instead of whatever they do in canon, and Milgram considers it Dmitry's fault because he abandoned her after they escaped. It's kind of similar to that theory that Kotoko's victim is Lucky because she abandoned her at the end of Deep Cover.

[boywifesammy]

spn fic rec fest - 8

AUGUST 28 - episode codas

as before, i've tagged authors that have their tumblr public on their ao3. if you'd like me to remove the @, just lmk. @spnficrecfest for more info on the event.

034 - adrenaline by ani_coolgirl (@ani-coolgirl) 2x12 Nightshifter, Sam/Dean, 2k, E

Sam & Dean crash at a motel after the bank heist in Milwaukee, but they’re way too wired to sleep. i really had to restrain myself from putting every coda in the Every First Time series into this list :') the way ani writes the boys is perfect for episode codas/missing scenes because she just absolutely NAILS their characterization and tone of voice. i love how chaotic and desperate this fic is, it’s really like sam and dean are like two black holes collapsing into each other. very electric & sublime.

Hail, The Son by HandsAcrossTheSea 4x1 Lazarus Rising, Sam/Dean, 2k, E

When Dean comes back from hell, Sam’s buff & broody. With a little push from Dean, they rediscover the sexual relationship they had before. ok so this ones mostly on the list for being scorchingly hot and having one of my fav hell!headcanons, that sam&dean came back from hell with foreskin. dunno why but it has cemented in my brain and refuses to leave. its also so cozy seeing them find comfort in each other during really tough arcs like post-hell seasons, and this fic really exemplifies that <3

True Face by WetSammyWinchester (@wetsammywinchester) 12x11 Regarding Dean, Sam/Dean, 5k, E

Rowena can't undo Dean's amnesia curse. Sam deals with the aftermath. this fic is the perfect mix of angst with absolutely adorable wincest. its basically 5k of dean crushing hard on sam & being able to show it without inhibitions while sam has a mini freakout every time dean forgets who he is and finds their terrifying hunting gear lol <3 great fic

acid by goshen/applecrumbledore (@goshen-applecrumbledore) 11x17 Red Meat, Sam/Dean, 15k, E

Dean's romeo-juliet suicide attempt in red meat spurs Sam into starting a conversation about their codependency that Dean really does not want to have. ok so-- not TECHNICALLY a coda, because it veers away from red meat pretty quick, but i haven't recced one of goshen's fics in this fest yet and that's just plain wrong. the dahmer conversation in this is crazy and totally something sam serial-killer-junkie winchester would ramble about. i also loved the scene later on about sam pointing out how much they know about each other and how they’re basically synced up 24/7. i luv my codependent boys :3

Sometimes I Think It's A Sin by TatteredBurningWings/angelshotgun 4x22 Lucifer Rising, Sam/Dean, 3k, E

After accidentally freeing Lucifer, Sam is certain that Dean will want to kill him. He hopes that sex will put Dean in a better mood, at least. a voicemail fix it!!! this is my brand of angst, i cant explain it but i loveeeeee when characters feel that overwhelming sense of guilt & humiliation and push themself into doing whatever they can to appease the other person. this fic hits that little guilty-pleasure spot in my brain. plus its hurt with comfort and the ending is soft and a great ending to the scene ❤️

[666writingcafe]

super random request as i've been having a massive zombie apocalypse hyperfixation but!!!

(your choice of) brothers/dateables with a (gn/male if your okay with that) whos a survivior of the zombie apocalypse? I'm talking no hesitation to violence, tends to hoard food, constantly on edge and flinches at the snap of a twig. Also very closed off, as you can never tell what other survivors intentions are?

if not, no worries!! i love your work and think you're writing is awesome!!!

-⚔️

Thank you for your request, ⚔️. I'm not sure if this will help feed your hyperfixation, but I gave it a shot.

In my version of the Obey Me universe, zombies do exist, and the Devildom has meticulously documented any and all outbreaks that occur. Consequently, there have been various organizations formed throughout the centuries that help both demon and human survivors reintegrate back into a functioning society. The Celestial Realm, on the other hand, really hasn't had to deal with zombies, since most of the time they don't have a soul (and if they do, it's not pure enough for them to be allowed past the gates).

All this is to say that this MC's situation is far from being unique to most of our cast of characters. While Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Satan have the most experience working with survivors of zombie apocalypses, they've all helped at least one in their very long lifetimes, so they have the tools necessary to help MC adjust.

They wouldn't particularly worry too much until and unless a significant amount of time has passed with little to no improvement in MC's mental condition. Then they'll all sit down and figure out how best to reach MC, because it's clear that their current methods aren't working.

As for specifics...

I feel Diavolo would be the one to assign everyone roles, not because he doesn't want to help, but because he has to juggle a gazillion other things and doesn't have the time to focus on one specific person.

Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon would reintroduce MC to basic etiquette. It's kinda hard to remain polite in a life-and-death situation, especially when you're fighting people for resources.

Beel, Levi, and Satan would teach MC coping strategies. Their sins cause them to live a similar life to the human's, and so they have insight that the others don't necessarily possess.

Mammon, Asmo, Belphie, and Luke are responsible for distracting MC from their darker thoughts by making them engage in various activities. Mammon and Asmo are usually the ones that get MC out of the house, Belphie ensures that they have a calm place where they can recharge, and Luke has them help him bake.

The person that MC gets along with the best in this scenario would be Belphie. He tends to be pretty closed off, too, so he'd be the last person to force MC to open up about stuff they don't feel like talking about. He's perfectly okay with sitting in silence, which helps MC slowly feel more at ease around him. He's also the first one that they tell parts of their backstory to, since they feel like he wouldn't judge them for some of the things they did in order to survive. And he doesn't, because let's be real: he's been there. They all have, to a certain extent, but not all of them are comfortable sharing that side of themselves.

Belphie does encourage MC to bond with Beel and Solomon, and after a while the two men are let in MC's inner circle. As for everyone else, MC learns to be cordial with them, but they never trust the others fully.

[joshusten]

love the sinner (albus york/faith koria, bastard warrior || good boy audios)

Albus York takes a bath and Faithful washes his hair. (angst, slight argument, hurt/comfort)

2.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist] [CW/notes: religious imagery ofc (this fic was basically an excuse to write that), typical albus york language, lots of self-loathing and some suicidal thoughts. albus is just having a bad time but hes also so whipped for faithful. speaking of her, i didnt make faith's physical descriptions vague or made it so that she's a "listener" but rather a character of her own! and i based it off of gba's description of her + my own interpretation hehe.]

once again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to @slushiepizza for all the AMAZING suggestions and support like omfg i SWEAR i keep on saying this but this fic rlly wouldnt be finished without them!! i appreciate it sm!! and im shaking and kissing my irls that ive also bothered with this fic that will probably not see this THANK U SM!! edit: I FORGOT THE FUCKING READ MORE LMFAO

—

Albus York steadily sank into the half-filled tub of one of the ship’s quarters—stripped of his clothes, and left bare to no witness.

Gentle waves of the bathwater rippled against hardened, battle-torn skin. He dementedly mused that if he could go down further, he might finally drown. 

He chuckled at the thought, shifted his position, and got to work. It's been a while since he last had an actual bath—way before he even agreed to this suicide mission of an adventure—with warm soapy water and scented products.

The constant near-death experiences and whatnot had interrupted the trio to get any time for themselves, much less to do any sort of basic hygiene. Since the route Devlin had charted for the ship to follow allowed for ample downtime, the Forgemaster had practically shoved his younger half-brother into the common bathroom and forced him to take a much-needed bath (Of course, not without a snobby comment about how his stench matched his personality perfectly well.)

Albus’ inexperience was made clearer with the stiff, awkward motion of his large, calloused hands as he attempted to wash himself. The unpracticed movement made the unfamiliarity of it all fully realized. How long has it been since he felt this safe? Does he even remember how to take care of himself?

Does someone like him even deserve this luxury?

The warrior submerged himself lower, down until his eyes were right above water level. He was thinking again. It was all that he had been doing for the past hour. If the gods wouldn't allow him to drown, then he hoped that the water would at least cleanse the grime and sin embedded into his flesh.

But he knew that filth clung to his skin like how a believer clings to the idea of repentance. No matter how hard—how desperately—he scrubbed (until pale skin turned into blood red, until rough turned rougher), it was all pointless. He had learned long ago that a bastard's prayers were never left answered. 

The mark on his chest was a bleak reminder of that reality. Damnation was basically his birthright. Albus York was dead the moment he came out of his mother’s womb—dead to his family, dead to society. 

Cursed to hell for being sin itself.

Life had a funny way to remind him—that goodness is something he can be in the presence of but never be a part of it.

"Albus?"

Speak of the devil, his ever-so-naive angel had arrived.

“Albus? Hello?”

Tender, serene, heavenly.

The voice was melodic—like the somber hymns he used to hear in his youth when his mother would take him into the temple and meet with her fellow brothers and sisters. At that time, he always felt drawn to the choir’s performance, despite not being old enough to understand the words (not that he was any more literate in the present). Back then, he was just a kid, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy he had committed for existing. 

He had grown since then—in every aspect of the word.

"Albus! Are you still in there?"

A deep grunt, muffled slosh of water, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the tiled surface were all that Faith Koria had heard from the other side of the metal door before a familiar, gruff voice answered back.

"Calm ya tits, woman. I knew you were eager to see my dick but I never knew you were this eager!" 

The outside replied with an annoyed groan, a sound Albus was all too familiar with, especially when it came from her. That being said, he couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips as he hastily dried himself up with a nearby towel.

"You've been using the bathroom for more than an hour, just what are you doing in there? Some people want to get cleaned up too, you know!”

The metal door swiftly slid open with a sudden 'woosh!', hot steam dissipating before the runaway nun to reveal Albus’ tall stature, half-naked and slightly dripping wet. Faith frantically averted her eyes on instinct, ears immediately burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t like it was her first time seeing him undressed—for gods’ sake, she treated his wounds like this when they first met! But to have him fresh out of a bath with his toned body exposed and his dampened long hair was—Wait! His hair!

"Alright, alright! I’m out, ya happy? I’m decent too so you don’t have to be a prude about it,” The bastard huffed, a little irritated with how his peaceful bath (or at least, as peaceful as it could be) was abruptly cut short.  

“Albus, your hair!”

The man scrunched up his face in confusion.  He gathered one of his dark locks and examined it with an intense focus. “Huh? Looks fine to me. What, you're not expecting me to be all prim and proper now, are you?”

“No, no, no! It's all matted and uneven!” The woman replied with a horrified concern in her voice that was rare for the warrior to hear directed at him.“It’s probably from all those monster attacks. Some of them must’ve managed to get to your hair! How long has it been like this? Does it hurt? Do you even have shampoo?”

“Uh…what’s that?”

“Ugh, never mind. Just—” Before Albus could process what was happening, Faith grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for a nun. She dragged him down near the bathtub he just got out of. He can even hear the water still slowly swirling down the drain. 

“Faithful, what are you—” 

“Stay right here. You got that, York? I’m just going to get something and I don't want you to move a muscle.”

A deep chuckle resonated within the man’s scarred chest—he always enjoyed it when she got this bossy. He gave her a mock salute and answered with a hearty “Yes, ma’am!”

The sister paladin made a face, letting out a flustered huff before hurrying to wherever she needed to be. So cute.

Albus had put on his clothes at this point while he waited (lest he risked Faithful suffering from a heart attack). A few minutes had passed by when she returned with a rather large pouch that Albus recognized was packed with the rest of her belongings. He deduced it must've been from her childhood with how worn down the embroidery was. Once vibrant floral patterns dulled from years of usage.

“Lean back by the bathtub,” Faith instructed. “I’m going to start detangling your hair. I might cut off some of the more unsalvageable parts too. If anything hurts or if I snagged on it too hard just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” The man repeated simply, not really knowing how to react to all of the amount of consideration he was receiving. Abrasiveness was what he was more used to responding to, not the care that she unabashedly gave him.

She beamed brightly at his compliance (and no, his heart did not just skip a beat), soft hands found their way to his head and started brushing away the more manageable tangles before using a wide-tooth comb for the bigger ones. Despite the numerous warnings, her fingers were nowhere near to being rough. She was as gentle as a lamb—her slow brushstrokes eventually formed a rhythm that filled in the silence of the room. Albus decided to break the comfortable atmosphere.

“How are you so good with this shit?” He mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. Fuck, he felt like he could sleep until his next life. “Never knew sisters of Cindergorn get to be part-time hairdressers too.”

Even with his sluggish state, Albus could almost sense the nun’s eyes rolling above him, brushing out his hair with a slightly more forceful than usual tug.

“I'm the one usually taking care of the children at the temple. I’m used to seeing this kind of stuff whenever they play too hard. Obviously not on this level but you get the gist.” Faith snipped off the last of a particularly challenging knot. 

“I've also been doing my own hair ever since I was a kid, so really, it's like second nature to me at this point,” she followed up, running her fingers through his hair with a satisfied nod.

Now that Albus thought about it, he had seen Faithful braiding herself earlier on their journey when they had just…tastefully borrowed the flagship meant for his father. He remembered swift, practiced hands twisting sections after sections of dark, coiled hair and had mentioned in passing how it was a hairstyle she often did to withstand the Eastern Faithlands' harsher seasons (Fortunately, it also turned out to be great for going-on-a-quest-to-kill-your-priest-brother-and-save-a-child seasons too.)

Faith’s hands suddenly paused. Before the man could ask if something was wrong, she signaled him to stay still while she rummaged through the pouch to get a small bottle. She squeezed a moderate amount of product into her palm and spread it evenly. As she was about to apply the substance to his head, Albus jerked away, quickly stopping her hand with his own as a furrow formed on his thick brows.

“Faithful,” He chuckled. “Please, I’m a warrior. You don’t need to waste your fancy shit on me. My hair’s going to get fucked up again eventually so what’s the point?” 

Faith struggled to wriggle herself out of his grasp. “Wha–Albus, it’s fine!” 

“No, Faithful, I’m serious. It’s just hair. Hell, it’s my hair. Relax.” The man sat up straighter at this point, the water from his long, damp hair trickling down along the scarred tissue of his back but it was the intensity in those familiar brown eyes that made him feel a chill.

“And I told you it’s fine just let me—”

“Why are you making it a big fuckin’ deal? What do you want from me?” 

“What?” Faith’s voice cracked, appalled and confused. “Albus, what are you even talking about? I’m not asking for anything—”

“I’m just a bastard you hired to kill your brother! I was paid to do the dirty work for you, not to be your fucking toy—”

“Albus, wha—Y–You’re not a toy! Why do you—”

“If I’m not then why are you being like this to me? There’s a catch—there’s always a fucking catch. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

The nun managed to finally yank her hand away from his harsh grip and angrily slammed at the smooth surface of the tub.

“I just want you to stop being stubborn for once and let me do this for you!” 

The silence that followed between them felt suffocating.

Faith’s breath hitched, shocked by her outburst. She immediately straightened up her posture only to look down shamefully at the tiled floor. A shaky sigh left her lips, and Albus was doing everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out to her, seeking salvation he knew she shouldn’t give him because he was not sorry that he was like this. He wasn’t afraid to show his filth to the world because it was all he knew to do—all he was taught to do. There’s no excuse, no justification, no escape. She’s everything good and he’s just scum or worse yet—he’s a bastard. 

Because she’s an angel and he’s far worse than the devil.

“This isn't anything all that fancy…just something to keep it healthy and less stressful on your scalp. I just want you to feel okay. So please…” She trailed off. “Let me.”

“It’s…It’s just hair, Faithful. I’ll be okay, I’m a big boy,” Albus joked, but his words were sincere. He almost found the whole thing amusing—having the ever-so-snappy sister paladin fuss over him—if he didn’t get a feel for how much…his comfort seemed to mean a lot to her.

Faith pursed her lips, her gaze still fixed downward. “I just think…you deserve at least one good hair day.”

It's that word again. Deserve. Does she really think that? That he's worthy of all of this?

The man cleared his throat with a curt nod. Hesitantly, the nun's fingers slowly found their way back to the crown of his head, resuming whatever she was supposed to do. Steady, rhythmic brushstrokes filled the quiet once again. 

After what felt like hours of stillness, the bastard dared himself to shift his head and face her timidly—as if he was afraid he could melt under her piercing gaze.

"Thank you, for…for this," Albus grunted. He hadn't only meant for his hair.

Faith graced him with a dimpled smile—the one that made her eyes squint and showed the tiniest bit of the gap between her front teeth. She proceeded to tuck away a stray lock behind his ear, trailing down to hover over his cheek. Albus can practically feel the nervous tremble on her fingers as if she were hesitating on something. It all came to nothing in the end, closing her hands in a fist before withdrawing to her pouch to start cleaning up.

“Anytime, Albus. Besides, with how you always manage to find yourself in trouble,” the sister murmured, her voice playful (it never failed to leave Albus’ mind racing). Her eyes glinted as they locked into his almost like clockwork. “How can I not?”

Albus York sat by the empty bathtub of the ship’s quarters—fully clothed yet he had felt the most bare that he had ever been in front of someone. 

Faith smiled at him again and he swore he could make out the faintest halo crowning her head under the fluorescent bathroom light. ---- a/n: this is probably my most favorite fic that i wrote and i hope you enjoyed! lemme tell u this fic took way to long and got me so stressed for no reason idk ! i was worrying abt how this would happen in the timeline and all the lil details and then !! its a fic!! and im suppose to be having fun!! i am being self-indulgent!! (although i hope was able to characterize them well) again, feedback and comments r highly appreciated!! :DD have a good day/night and thank you for reading!!

[cheshiresense]

Anon:

Fandom: Harry Potter (CLV kinda?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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1.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Hadrian Evans could be something different.

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

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

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

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

"SLYTHERIN!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Evans, are you listening to me?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves. So Hadrian does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why not?"

"Why would you??"

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

"…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

3.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-doesn't like it.

-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then Evans moves forward and-

-sits down.

At the Gryffindor table.

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

4.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Greedy.)

Hadrian Evans does not disappoint him.

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

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

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

It's Blaise who reacts first.

He laughs.

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

There's a clatter. The door opens.

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

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

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

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

-a memory.

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

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

Patience, he reminds himself.

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

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

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

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

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

Evidently, he never has.

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

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

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

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

Except-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Fortunately, Blaise has no such compunctions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 So then.

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

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

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

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

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

 The room is quiet for a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 And no one likes a fence-sitter.

 -0-0-0-

 5.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Cool, thanks, let's go."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 -0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Except-

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

 It's a strange new world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Not that these two are friends of course.

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

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

 He would've preferred the heartfelt speech.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 His life.

-0-0-0-

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

[sleepingdeath-light]

innocent s/o hcs ; grelle

requested by ; anonymous (04/09/23)

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; grelle sutcliff

outline ; “i dont remember if i already requested this but may I request sfw and nsfw hcs (or scenario) of grell with an innocent s/o (preferably fem) pls? have a nice day/night :]”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

now let’s make one thing clear before anything else: grelle sutcliffe is absolutely crazy about you and loves every little thing about you from your ‘flaws’ to your strengths — including your innocence, even if it can leave her a bit frustrated at times when the exact motivations behind her dramatics goes a bit over your head and you just don’t get what she’s practically begging for (granted, in a very roundabout way)

she’s basically always hanging off of you or touching you in some way (hand holding, holding your arm, hugging you from behind, cuddling into your side, resting her head on your shoulder, fake fainting into your arms, kissing you anywhere and everywhere etc.) — and once you’ve established that you’re comfortable with it, not all of her touches are innocent in intention and a great many are intentionally very flirty and suggestive with a goal of getting you to reciprocate her gestures in kind

so having you not understand her intentions or miss them so distinctly that you’re just smiling and earnestly complimenting her is both heartwarming and frustrating to her — yes she’d much rather you were all over her like she is you, but she also loves you for your innocent streak so she can’t even bring herself to complain much (not beyond an overly dramatic sigh before she corrects her actions to become much more blatant so you have that ‘oh? oh.’ moment and give her what she wants)

she’s fiercely protective over you, even more so than she would be otherwise, because of your innocence and she’s been known to threaten or ‘dispatch’ anyone who might pose the slightest threat to your well-being and/or your innocence — including a very emotional confrontation with her once dear ‘bassy’ when he tried to flirt with you, and the murders of a few dozen humans for trying to harm you

she finds a great deal of solace in your relationship and in you — you are her island, her reprieve, where she can be herself without experiencing that same darkness of judgement and cruelty and sin that took her life the first time around (your innocence makes you kinder than most, easier to love than most, and if she wasn’t already dead then she knows that she’d die for you if it meant keeping you safe — and that thought, that level of attachment, no longer scares her like it used to)

the pet names she uses with you are also changed by your nature and how different you are to her because of it — of course she still calls you ‘darling’, but she’s also been known to use pet names like ‘angel’ and ‘sweetheart’ and ‘my heart’ when she’s feeling especially dramatic

[archivalofsins]

In a funnier turn of events after getting that Mikoto post out I am feeling more comfortable discussing his character. It was really bugging me that I was perceiving the fandom as an unsafe space to discuss plurality on a two alter system basis. It never seemed appropriate to gush about it given the things I'd been shown being said.

Yet, I was really happy with Double and the Neoplasm voice drama. Because it showed how diverse dissociative identity disorder can be with just two alters. Instead of just doing the same old hi I'm the totally good one and I'd never hurt a fly and I'm sin incarnate sometimes I just do bad shit for the lols you know.

The thing that most media does when discussing that presentation. I don't know how to really tackle my own feelings on it. It's like most my life I grew up seeing it represented as oh no, the evil one is out. As though the person had been possessed almost. So, it was very refreshing to see it be like, "Oh well, they're both just people. No one is as simple as just good or bad. They both have a variety of behavior."

It's something that should by now rightfully be expected when it comes to that sort of representation of it. Yet when it comes to two people always focus on the duality. The light and the dark the good and the evil. They try to separate all nice in neat like that without really focusing on the individuals. So, I was ultimately really pleased by Milgram. Though it could be because I'm more on the older side or just I gave up on looking for good representation and started avoiding anything thar covered it in middle school.

Honestly, I still avoid things that deal with it outside of Milgram. Simply out of habit of thinking, man, is it gonna be this shit again? How do I know it's not that shit again? Oh well, you gotta watch it, of course. I'm not doing that. I don't trust it. Yet with Double, there were just so many great things about it that really made me go.

Yeah, they get it. This is actually great. I couod harp on the lyrics all day.

Like favorite lines were,

1. That'd be good.

With the lyrics before it and how it's enunciated with so much longing paired with the visuals of him wiping the blood to look down into the other end of the train. It really fucking goes hard as a line. Really embodying the whole come on praise me for helping you I did good right I saved you right so hey where's my thank you it'd be good if you said it energy.

2. Doesn't matter if you didn't wish for it, can't get rid of me now. Just the two of us, relieved, aren't you? I'll protect you (us).

Just the enunciation the growl. It's just really good as if going oh you want to push me down well I'm not going anywhere.

3. "He's a liar," you said and made me out to be a scoundrel, why?

The fucking double meaning if this one line is just so got damn amazing. It's not only calling back to the ridiculous accusations lines in Double but discussing the audiences response to Mikoto. Calling him a liar claiming he was faking. But the second half is referring to the audiences reaction to John making him out to be a scoundrel immediately blaming the murders on him. Labeling him as the bad one without even a second thought. Only leaving him to ask why? Putting more meaning behind the line

4. Hey, I just wanted to save you, so why did it come to this? Cling to me hoist me up as your savior stand up and sing out your gratitude- So, why?

As though Mikoto is their asking why is your song like this you should be praising me. You should be grateful so why?

5. I don't remember a thing it couldn't be helped I'm Double (MeMe).

This line is super great because it's like John and Mikoto both claiming onus of their own songs. And John answering Mikoto's question about why his song is like this. Basically going it couldn't be helped I'm Double. Basically saying it was bound to turn out like this because I'm like this.

6. Why, why? If only I were never born, if only-

To me, this came off as John going. If only I had never been born at all, then neither of us would have existed, and this wouldn't have happened. Expanding on the idea that Es and Kotoko both bring up that his existence is the problem. Which most wouldn't immediately go they mean because of my disorder but go yeah fuck it you're right if I never even lived to begin with this wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't even be here for this to happen and then the apology after these lines as if apologizing for having been born at its sooo good.

It has no right to be sooooo good. So, yes despite the incredible detriment that this week has been to my mental health and my anxiety literally being on a fucking hundred. Double has been the best fucking thing to ever happen to me personally. And it's so fucking amazing.

I love it so much.

[drchenquill]

Seven Deadly Sins Tag Game~

thank you @thecomfywriter , @leahnardo-da-veggie for the tag!

Rules: which of your OCs would you assign to which of the seven deadly sins and why?

I might talk about OCs I never really mentioned, just to answer this as honest as I can. (i've also taken antagonist. They're evil, but still my OCs).

PRIDE

Azul - Azul is very prideful. He likes to show himself off and to decorate himself in golden jewelry just to rub it into other people's faces how great he thinks he is.

GREED

Atlas. - Altas is an OC from a WIP set in a dystopian world where there is basically no water for some otherwordly reason and the earth has turned into one big desert. Humanity changed as a whole, humans coming together as clans, fighting, killing each other for tanks of water distributed by the higher ups. Atlas needs to be greedy, gather as much water as possible for his little group of people. He doesn't back away from killing either, just to gather enough. The problem is, it's never enough.

LUST

Azul - I know, I know. I already chose him for pride, but he is the only one out of all of my OCs that would fit this. He is very comfortable in his sexuality and has often taken customers to bed if he felt inclined to (his job doesn't require that, just fyi). What can I say, he likes to be desired and to desire.

ENVY

Leon. - He would never admit it, but he is a very envious person. He's envious of the lifes other people live, of his students having a great relationship with their parents, of Kiki and Margaret who can openly show affection towards each other. He is very envious and he hates it.

GLUTTONY

Izrail. - He grew up wild, only trained to kill. He often needed to fight others for food so he tends to overdo it. He eats as if it was his last meal.

WRATH

Arke. - Arke is one of the antagonists of my story "The Shadow of Her Dreams". She is filled with rage and hatred. Her main goal is to take revenge of those who wronged her, wanting to see them in pain.

SLOTH

Brutus. - He is the brother of the main character of "The Shadow of Her Dreams". He is a lazy fuck, there's no bigger explanation.

~~~~~

Tagging with no pressure @theink-stainedfolk , @paeliae-occasionally , @finickyfelix , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @inseasofgreen ,

@the-golden-comet , @rivenantiqnerd , @gabeorelse , @differentnighttale open tag~

[lionlena]

Headcanon: How will they react if you tell them about CDD? (Pedro Pascal characters) 👰💔😱🤕

I accidentally found a website about CDD (Christian Domestic Discipline) and I read a few fragments of articles by a certain moron. And I don't know what scared me more. Lack of basic respect and love for wife. Spanking is a form of punishment to correct the wife's behavior. Or the fact that the wife is always supposed to be willing and obey commands like "kneel" and willingly take his cock in her mouth... 🤢 🤮 I just felt sick (like someone punched me in the stomach) and I needed some therapy, so I went to my "Pedro's boys' comfort zone".

Joel Miller:

Joel is shaking with anger. He clenches his jaw and fists. It's not just about you, but also about Sarah. His blood boils at the thought that his beloved daughter's future husband could be such an idiot as this Christians perverts. Joel feels like breaking something. He'd break that dick's hands if he even tried to touch his daughter.

Then he looks at you in shock and asks, almost pleadingly, "Tell me you don't believe this nonsense? That you would never want me to treat you this way... I'm your husband, not some fucking medieval pastor!"

So of course you assure him that you would never want that. You like the fact that Joel is sometimes dominant, that he is decisive, but... At the same time, you know that you can do what you want. Joel would never take away your right to be yourself.

Joel confirms all this. You are his Princess. He knows he's grumpy sometimes. He doesn't like it when you do something he thinks is unwise, but he would never dare punish you for it.

He has great respect for you. You are the woman who takes care of him, the house, and the children. And if you feel like having a little fun sometimes... If you don't make him dinner, or you oppose him, Joel will accept it with humility. He will wait it out because he knows that in the end, you will always be a married couple full of love and mutual respect.

Javier Peña:

Javier thinks you're joking at first. You must be joking, right? These are some erotic fantasies, not the truth...

When he realizes that some men actually see their wives this way, he is disgusted.

He always respected women, even those he paid for sex. He wouldn't force any of them to do anything.

Would he be able to force you, his beloved wife, to do anything?

He knows perfectly well that he is not a saint. He has many "sins" on his conscience. How the hell would he be the one to correct your behavior? Who would give him the right to do that?

He sees spanking only as a form of short play during sex (with mutual consent).

But as a punishment? Hell no!

He would never stand up to you. He treats you as an equal... In fact, he even thinks that he is the second in the marriage. He often thinks that he doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve your patience and care.

And if you get angry at him if you oppose him... You're probably right.

To him, these "Christians" treat their wives like slaves. He is disgusted by them.

And as for kneeling... He's the one who will kneel in front of you and make you scream with pleasure with his mouth.

Marcus Pike:

Marcus gets angry and raises his voice saying, "What fucking nonsense?! How can these morons treat their wives like this?! Don't they even have one brain cell?!"

You're really surprised by his outburst of anger, which obviously isn't directed at you, but it's still surprising that your sweet and calm husband could get so angry.

But that's because for Marcus, marriage is sacred, but not in a religious way... You are his wife, the woman who fixed his broken heart.

You gave yourself completely to him, not because he forced you to do it... He would rather shoot himself in the head than force any woman to do anything.

You gave yourself to him because you wanted it because you found him worthy.

That's why Marcus is ready to kiss the ground you walk on.

You are his calm, warm, and safe place. Your kisses calm him down.

So Marcus can't imagine himself raising a hand against you. Punish you? Treat you like a child or someone less than him? He can't imagine how he could take away your right to decide about yourself.

He's seen a lot of horrible things in his job, but this... It's really high on his list of disgusting things.

He can't stop thinking about these men calling themselves Christians...

Only your light kisses on his face calm him down. He also kisses you sweetly, assuring you that he will never be such a husband because you are wonderful to him. You are his soulmate.

But Marcus doesn't have to tell you that, you already know it.

Agent Whiskey:

When you tell him you found some nonsense on the Internet, Whiskey expects some funny nonsense. You always find them and you always laugh together.

He didn't expect that this "nonsense" would turn out to be some fucking bullshit that made him feel sick.

He feels disgusted, irritated, and angry at these men who call themselves Christians and do something that, in his opinion, has nothing to do with Christian love.

Sure, he likes to spank you, he likes to mark your ass. He's a territorial guy, but... For God's sake, you're his Sugar, his wonderful wife. He never spanks you without your explicit permission, and of course, he doesn't do it to punish you. He doesn't treat you like his property.

Jack loves you like he thinks any decent man should love his wife. You are his queen. He will never force you to do anything. In fact, your simple "no" would be enough to immediately remind him where the boundaries are.

He wants your marriage to be full of love, comfort, mutual understanding, and trust. He hugs you protectively and says:

"I never want to treat you like this and take advantage of you. I want us to be equals, lovers, best friends, and partners. But these men practicing Christian domestic discipline do not love their wives, they want control and domination over their wives. And the Bible quotes they use are probably taken out of context just to justify their own pathetic actions.”

Then he showers you with kisses and spoils you even more than usual throughout the day. This is the only way he can get rid of the thought that men who don't know manners have the nerve to walk around the ground his Sugar walks on.

Javi G:

If you want to give Javi a mental breakdown, then go ahead... But in general, yes, you will cause him to have a mental breakdown if you tell him about it. (So think carefully about it.)

The poor puppy will take a year to recover.

At first, Javi won't understand at all what you're telling him. "Is this a script from some crazy movie? Really distasteful."

When he realizes it's true, he still won't understand it.

Obedience? Duties? Humility?

Since you became his wife, Javi's only goal is to make you enjoy life, not fulfill some marital obligations.

You, according to him, have no obligations. Unless you consider laughing as an obligation. Because that's all Javi wants: to hear you laugh.

And raise a hand to you?! Javi wouldn't even do that in erotic play. He just can't. Just the thought of him intentionally hurting you brings tears to his eyes.

Once he accidentally hit you with the door when, as usual, he was leaving the room too vigorously and you were just about to go inside. Nothing serious happened to you. He punched you in the shoulder.

When he saw your red skin, he panicked. He kissed your shoulder and apologized over and over again. He felt like a husband abusing his wife. He even begged you not to divorce him.

It was downright funny for you. How could you divorce him for such a reason?

You calmly assured him that you were fine. But he still insisted on calling a doctor, who, of course, said there was nothing wrong with you and recommended applying a cold compress.

Javi, of course, obediently followed the doctor's orders.

And in the evening he would cuddle you on the couch while watching "Paddington 2" with you. But for the first time, while he watching this movie, he wasn't paying attention to the screen. Instead, he would glance at you, at your shoulder, and every now and then he would place a sweet, gentle kiss on your shoulder.

Oberyn:

Oberyn is shocked and disgusted when you tell him about the existence of a new sect in Westeros that practices domestic discipline.

Dorne is a land of great respect for women. In Dorne, from the very beginning, the oldest child sits on the throne, regardless of gender. Subjects respect princesses as much as they respect princes. According to the Dornish people, the dick between the legs doesn't matter when it comes to ruling.

Dorne is also the land of love. Even children here rarely get spanked. Most of the time, their parents let them run happily in the Dornish sun and splash in the fountains.

That's why what you say is a shock to him.

Would he treat you, his wife, this way? You are his Queen.

Yes, he is the Prince of Dorne, head of House Martell, but he has nothing against your desire to rule or dominate. And he's not going to correct your behavior. That's not what he is for.

Besides, why would he waste his time on something so nonsensical when he can spend his time making love to you?

Oberyn believes that he is created to satisfy your desires. To carry you in his arms and be your shield and spear if necessary.

He doesn't have to force you to do anything either. He is persuasive enough for you to always agree with him. What if you didn't agree?

He will respect that. He is a man of honor and will tell you:

“This is what the love of my life deserves… Always being there for her, always supporting her, always protecting her… My love… I can't always be in charge… I'm glad you feel comfortable enough around me to express your thoughts out loud. Because we are not just husband and wife. We are also friends and equal partners united by love.”

[rotisseries]

ALRIGHT SO THIS MIGHT BE LONG. BUT I COME BEARING FIC RECS!!!

first off. since you said you were in an sskk mood. i'm going to recommend you my own fic 🫶 it's called the memory of your name and is an amnesia fic, which i've admittedly never read before. it's based on this prompt, which i just really liked :))

i also have to be seen in the light (but wander in the dark) by confusedwritingrat, which is basically just uh. a lot of akutagawa angst tbh. tw include torture and a LOT A LOT of injuries, it's a 5+1 of people not noticing when akutagawa was injured

How To Wreck A Schedule In One Easy Step by valleykey is transfem kunikida. that's it that's the fic (but holy FUCK is it a good fic, cannot recommend it enough)

Misunderstandings are extremely embarrassing by EMILEHCM is just. they're idiots. sskk but also dazai. all idiots.

Bad At Love by silent_knives_wielder is so so so good, it's skk soulmates and it's short but Silly :33

EHEHE okay so Striped and Destruction, Resolution by AliceInHyruleBastion are both sskk soulmates, the first is from atsushi's pov (and was written first) and the second is an akutagawa version, they're both AMAZING. liike geuinely so good that i binged every singe one of the author's fics afterwards like holy FUCK, they've got some more sskk but also a bunch of skk so definitely recommend their entire ao3 account bc i've got half of their fics bookmarked

dismal disquiet by Kala (assushi) is hanahaki and uh. it's short and it's painful. you should read it and then sob.

something to get used to by shipeo is so fuckign good, it's a character study on akutagawa and his partnership with atsushi set during the cannabalism arc, which is my favourite part and it makes me INSANE

now. now the series Soukoku Fics by NeonGanymede/StarshipDancer is a collection of all the author's skk fics. and when i tell you that i binged all 300k+ words of it over a weekend. it's INSANELY good, it's 90% domestic fluff with hurt/comfort and some angst, but the characterization and the dynamics are absolutely fucking AMAZING. there's also about 7 explicit fics, all in a row, but otherwise there's no smut and those fics are very easy to skip if it's not your thing. i sincerely recommend this series because the author Gets Them. if not all of them, there's an odango wedding one and the most recent one i'd recommend above all.

okay now i KNOW that you love cannabalism and blood and gore so here's a funky little vampire fic for you! i called your name 'til the fever broke by forest_raccoon is SO SILLY SO GOOD I'VE READ IT MULTIPLE TIMES IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD OKAY

idk if you like fyolai but Sins of Flesh by BoredsoIRead absolutely fucking blew my mind. they're so fucked up but so perfect for each other and so so fascinating. i LOVED this one.

It's Rotten Work by Egosdelirium is an skk fic, written during the wait between episodes after the one where dazai got shot.

also @/creantzy's bernadette fyolai animatic is a must-watch it literally changed my brain chemistry

so yeah!! hope you enjoy the fic recs :3

THANK YOUUUU I CAN'T WAIT TO READ THESE🫶🫶🫶

[griseldabanks]

20 Questions for the Writer

Tagged by @rainintheevening

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

131

2. What is your total Ao3 word count?

822,681

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Captain America/MCU and FMA these days, but I also have fics on AO3 for Daredevil, Dororo, Star Wars, Supernatural, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Make Me Whole (Captain America), Back from the Brink (Dororo), of skulls and secrets (FMA), Shards of Me (Captain America), and Your Arms Feel Like Home (Captain America)

Still boggles my mind every time I realize my second-most kudoed fic is the random Dororo fic I wrote for a Christmas present one year @_@

5. Do you respond to comments?

I make a point to reply to every comment I can! ^_^ I just really want to share my stories with other people and talk to them about them!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm...of the ones posted on AO3, I'm not sure. Maybe "Rejected?" It's an FMA fic where Ed gives up his life to bring Al's body back, so that's pretty angsty ^^'

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Pretty hard to beat the ending of Make Me Whole ;) Reunions of old friends, heartfelt confessions, sobbing on each other's shoulders, followed by an overjoyed birthday celebration! The "epilogue" of sorts of Shards of Me might be even happier, though, because you get to see how good things turn out for them a few years down the road <3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think I have on AO3. I did very occasionally on FFNet (mostly from one particularly weird guy who had other issues besides the quality of my fics).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope!

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes! I love the kind of crossover where, rather than characters from different stories meeting each other, you just replace the characters from one story with the characters from another. My most recent, a FMA/Firefly crossover, is coming to mind - FMA characters replace the Firefly characters and go through the same basic plot as the first episode of Firefly. Another one I'm really proud of is "All We've Got to the End of the Line," where I put the Elric brothers in Steve and Bucky's position, and vice versa.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Years ago, there was one fic of mine that got translated into Spanish, I think.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, though unfortunately most of the co-written fics I've worked on have not gotten finished before the relationship fell apart :/

But a huge shout-out to @sergeanttomycaptain, who helped me brainstorm my Whole Shards series and even wrote large chunks of it herself, though she's not "officially" a co-writer.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

My longest running OTP is Royai <3 I'll always love them and what the understated subtlety of their relationship has taught me. A very honorable mention goes to Staron - though admittedly, a lot of the stuff I love most is stuff I had to come up with myself because of how the canon ruined Sharon's character -_-

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Years ago, I started writing a Haibane Renmei fic with a full cast of OCs, just because I wanted to explore that world more and try my hand at writing a story even halfway as uplifting and wholesome as that. Unfortunately, there was never really any plot to speak of, so while I really like the characters I came up with, I have no idea where to go with it, and probably never will because I have too many stories to write that I do know what I want to do with. Alas, Kabe the Sin-Bound Haibane will probably be consigned to the dust forever.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at writing endings, and judging from people's reactions, I'm pretty good at making people cry! But like...in a healing/comforting sort of way. I also think I have the strength of tenacity (or stubbornness, if you'd rather), to finish what I set out to do even if it takes a really long time.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fights/action scenes. Intentional humor. Differentiating dialogue/thoughts so it really sounds like the character.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm always paranoid about doing that, even if I have a decent enough grasp of the language that I'm completely sure I know what they're saying ^^' But then, I'm the kind of person who will write something in English, my native tongue, and then second-guess whether that's actually the way to say it or whether I sound like an idiot. I'm trying to loosen up about such things, though, because more diversity in a fic makes it more fun.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Final Fantasy X. I started writing a novelization of the game before I even knew what I was doing was fanfiction!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Ohhhh, that's really hard to narrow down. But one of the fics that's nearest and dearest to my heart is the fic I'm currently in the process of posting, Take Me In. Please consider reading it if you like Captain America!

Tagging @dairogo, @x-i-l-verify, and @x-rainflame-x if you'd like to do this!

[vampireistic]

“annoying gays” aren’t the problem.

the problem with “straight” self-entitlement

the anime/gaming community isn’t known for being very lgbt friendly (the amount of times i’ve been threatened with SA because i’ve called a character zesty is actually psychotic) and to be fair, posting something like this to a website known for being infested with us gay critters seems silly, but i think it’s something worth a discussion.

overall, i want to go over a couple fandoms that i’m deeply engrained in that i’ve personally experienced the shittiest takes with: honkai star rail, genshin impact, jujutsu kaisen.

────────────────────────

“i hate ___ fandom”, do you? or do you hate the fact black and gay people exist in the same space as you? “oh it’s the shippers! they’re weird”, yeah i won’t deny a minuscule percentage are, but do you really think that overshadows the fact the CN part of the genshin community KILLED kittens because they hated scaramouche, the creepypasta fandom saw the emergence of several murderers that varied in concerning age, not to even mention the amount of l*li art that gets made using the excuse that the character is “akshually 500+!” — believe me, these are more egregious sins than simply: “they ship boy and boy so i don’t like.”

“FANON” VS “CANON”

some of you can’t differentiate between: “this makes me uncomfortable” and “this is wrong”.

“headcanons are losing their meaning”, “i miss when headcanons didn’t make sexualities their entire character” — what is it with people being upset that others are finding comfort in portraying themselves in a character they enjoy? “it ruins the character!”, “you’re belittling them and ignoring their backstory!”, how come these are the responses only queer people get?

it’s ok to not like it but you also have to acknowledge that it’s completely harmless and in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t matter. “you’re making it all about sexualities”, “you can’t make everything gay” etc etc — those are just basic homophobic rhetorics. gay people have been demonised in media excessively, of course we want to MAKE representation for ourselves if we aren’t going to get any canonically.

queer people shouldn’t have to be digestible to you and what you like for you to not have a hissy fit that they merely headcanoned a fun character as having xenopronouns. using the excuse that: “oh well, i’m also queer!”, is ridiculous, being part of the community doesn’t absolve you from any type of lgbtphobia. do you really think the straights are gonna come accept you with tears in their eyes because you’re not like those other fags?

────────────────────────

“SHIPPING CULTURE”

getting mad at queer people for not liking straight ships should be a form of comedy. throughout all those decades of entertainment, queer people have been given mere crumbs of what straight people have — why is it expected that we need to absolutely suck up and also enjoy something that we’ve already been force fed our entire lives? this sort of idea is a little predatory, in my experience at least, this rhetoric is the reason i used to HATE even entertaining the idea i could be a lesbian just because it was so disconnected from other sexualities where most revolved around some sort of attraction to men; i feel like this isn’t necessarily that uncommon of a situation either.

this sort of conversation surrounding the concept of “heterophobia” just sparks immediate homophobic rhetoric that intends to make queer people like some villainous group that’s goal is to gayify every straight ship in existence. no-one actually cares, you’re just upset because gay ships tend to get more talked about in fandoms because they’re well liked.

let queer people enjoy solely mlm/wlw media or pairings without making them feel othered or like a “fujoshi” for something normal. if i have to sit here and listen to why you think god should personally make mitsuri and obanai real so they can have a real wedding then you can handle me just stating “idk i think satosugu is good”. i can’t tell you the amount of times my own friends have made me feel weird or icky for watching things that relate to me because i specify i won’t read or watch romance stories with a hetero pairing — like i trusted y’all once with violet evergarden and look where that ended up…

“you’d like ___ if it was gay” / “you only hate ___ because it’s straight” … yeah, because i’m gay dumbass. why the fuck should i pour my energy into a straight pairing i can’t at least resonate with somewhat. there are some exemptions to this rule and i will forever be a hanako kun and nene lover — but that’s purely because they’re a straight ship written for gay people. and it’s actually quite easy to discern the difference between “straight pairing that’s intended for large audience” vs “straight pairing that’s intended to appease fans / soothe the lonely lowlifes who have never touched a woman”

the former being: hanako kun x nene, quite literally any pairing from disney movies, loid x yor, haruhi x tamaki… okay i’m out — and the latter being ANYTHING from the following animes: darling in the franxx, bunny girl senpai, my dress up darling, toradora etc.

also to add onto the whole “you’d like so and so if they were gay”, y’all would absolutely believe ships like satosugu, beigguang, acheswan, eimiko etc were canon if they were m/f pairings.

“QUEER CODING / IMPLICATION”

i don’t understand why this specific topic is so heavily discussed in such a negative manner — if there’s specific references to queer things in relation to a character, it’s obviously intentional. what’s the issue? that it’s gay?

queer coding has long been a subtle yet powerful tool in media, particularly in anime and video games. it involves the inclusion of characters whose traits, behaviours, or relationships suggest a queer identity without explicitly stating it. this coding allows for nuanced representations of lgbtq+ identities in contexts where direct representation might be risky or censored. two franchises where queer coding is evident are genshin impact and jujutsu kaisen.

however, the appreciation of this representation often gets lost in a quagmire of "canon versus fanon" discourse, particularly among straight fans, who degrade these characters and their relationships to fucking “shipping debates.”

“they’re just friends — have you never interacted with a friend before?” / “not everything has to be romantic / gay”

i don’t remember the last time i longingly gazed at my friend after receiving a compliment and smirking while stating: “only a true treasure captures the eyes of __, seems like i’ve struck gold.” homosexual undertones exist!! i don’t understand how this is something controversial or scary to discuss — just because a character isn’t DIRECTLY stated to be queer, doesn’t suddenly mean all the hinting doesn’t mean anything.

heterosexuality isn’t the “default”, why do you have to assume every character is straight? i don’t remember them staring down at the camera lense to specify.

you can’t be so disingenuous and media literacy constipated that you don’t know how to interpret very simple things like yae miko writing a sapphic book where the main two characters resemble her and ei, the fact kaveh and alhaitham’s introductory quest line is titled “pride and prejudice”, the entire story of xiao and venti meeting, and even something as seemingly dumb and simple as ajax being gifted chopsticks by zhongli. repetitive nuances aren’t there for the sake of silly dynamics, they’re there to get past censorship. believe me if they could they would’ve made yae and ei make out by now.

another gentle reminder: wriothesley is based off henry wriothesley, a homosexual man known for having gay relationships who had a close intimacy with william shakespeare. clorinde is based off a historical feminist and bisexual named julie d'aubigny with navia being based off of julie d'aubigny's lover, who was a lesbian. and if you’re going to argue semantics and say that these are either incidental and don’t mean anything — then neither does the argument that nahida was supposed to be based off the hindu moon goddess.

the weird anger that procures whenever gay ships are more popular is so baffling. yaeyato quite literally come along as a reactionary ship to eimiko because…they hated lesbians, straight ghuizhong and zhongli shippers have conjured up this rainbow demon that every zhongchi shipper hates them (despite the fact a large majority of guizhong shippers…are also zhongchi shippers).

similarly, jujutsu kaisen has characters whose relationships and characteristics are imbued with queer coding. the dynamic between gojo and geto, for example, is often highlighted as more than just a rivalry or friendship. their relationship is filled with an intensity that transcends typical "bromance," and the narrative hints at a deep emotional connection that resonates with many queer experiences of longing and betrayal. they’re made to be the exact mirrors of each other, pieces of a puzzle that when put together perfectly balance into a piece of art.

“my six eyes tell me you’re suguru geto. but my soul knows otherwise!”

some of you wouldn’t even have your own mother recognise you in such a manner let alone your best-friend who you haven’t seen in years. don’t remember the last time i purred and groaned my friend’s name while we’re on call and i don’t think i could ever bother staring at them lovingly while propping my cheek up with my hand. geto had this man nearly on his hands and knees in front of a public sidewalk near a non copyrighted kfc because he was afraid of him leaving.

what i find also particularly funny is how these same people will view labelling a character as something that somehow dirties them and then will turn around and ship something like anya and that ugly kid (i’m sorry but i don’t remember his name LMAO) — you don’t care about “pushing sexualities onto a character”, you give a shit because it’s queer.

────────────────────────

here’s some resources i found that managed to vocalise my thoughts rather perfectly:

annoying gays are not the problem

“i’m not one of those gays” - shut up.

a deep dive into the queer coding of genshin impact

is honkai star rail actually queer coded?

homophobia in the honkai star rail community

[manias-wordcount]

Hi! Can I get Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist), Tamaki Suoh (OHSHC), and Illumi Zoldyck with a hypermobile fem s/o with knee problems?

Here’s where the insight comes: now, because of my flexible joints, I can do all sorts of weird things. I can twist my arms like 360 degrees or so (sometimes, I hear the joints popping; it doesn’t hurt most of the time, but I do feel a minor squeeze at worst), I can bend my thumb to my forearm (though it hurts somewhat if I hold it too long, but that goes away quickly; for some reason, my left is more flexible than my right), and I’ve been known to be able to touch my shoulder or even my face with my foot if I stretch it enough. Also, my skin is stretchier than most people’s, and it’s to the point where I can kind of cover my thumb in my hand (and it freaks people out). Also, I can do this thing where I turn my hands inward and my elbows poke out (I legit once had a girl come to me saying, “That’s not normal,” bless her heart. I even do what’s called the W position on a daily basis, which is comfortable to sit in but takes a bit to get up from. Conveniently, it allows me to scratch my own back without a backscratcher or even give myself a massage if I want. On the downside, I have a history of kneecap dislocations (I’ve had a total of 4: 3 times in the left kneecap and once in the right, all on separate occasions and it’s been happening since I was 13). As such, I’m best off with low-impact exercises like swimming or cycling because they’re easier on my joints than, say, soccer. Thankfully, I’ve found things like hot baths and basically being in hot water is very soothing for my joints. Also, I remember I was once recommended mustard paste for my kneecaps but I have yet to test it. I don’t know the exact cause of my hypermobility because I haven’t been diagnosed yet but that’s ok.

Note: I don’t know if you write for Meliodas from Seven Deadly Sins or Snake from Black Butler, but if you do, are you ok with adding them too? If not, would another character of your choice from those fandoms be ok?

Hypermobile S/o with knee problems HCs (Edward Elric, Tamaki Suoh, Illumi Zoldyck, Meliodas, Snake)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼 !!!!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

Edward Elric

Out of everyone?

He’s probably the one who knows the most about hypermobility

Though he was extremely surprised the first time he saw it in action

It’s something he definitely read about when doing all kinds of studies about the human body

And when he was just finding out about hypermobility, he was probably surprised at first about just how much more complex it is

Though now that he’s older, he’s prepared to help with any potential problems that may arise for you

However, he’s still Ed

He’ll be the one to help you to the infirmary when your knee dislocates

But you know he’ll panic and he’ll yell about it first before he gains enough sense to get you the help you need

So at least he isn’t totally useless…he’s just Ed!

Tamaki Suoh

10000% will scream “WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR BODY” the first time he saw your hypermobility

But don’t worry

A quick dumbed-down explanation (by Haruhi or even Karou) will have Tamaki singing a different tune in a second

In fact, he’d probably start asking if you could do a bunch of tricks

And if you could show it to him too LOL

Out of everyone, it’ll probably be Honey to ask if it ever hurts doing all the things your body is able to do

And the second you mention your knee problems? Oh boy

Tama-chan is going to be all over you

Researching about all the things that could ever go wrong, looking up what he can ever do to help, finding out if there's stuff he can buy you to make things better- the works

But hey! At least he’s supportive!

Illumi Zoldyck

He knows

No need to tell you anything

In fact, knowing him and his family?

It’s entirely possible he knew before YOU did

If you ever do anything to showcase your hypermobility, he won’t comment much on it

He’s just content watching you do your own thing

He will tell you to be careful though

But you don’t have to worry much

The household knows your medical history- all of it

Illumi (and literally anyone on the Zoldyck payroll) are here to assist you if ever the need arises

Meliodas

Genuinely does think it’s cool

But he’ll be super nonchalant about it as he usually is with the weirdest things

Though you know he’ll be bragging about how cool he thinks you are when he gets drunk to the other guys

Of course, it’s probably Gowther that points out how your hypermobility has been the source of a few instances of pain for you

And suddenly it starts to make sense why you’re the first to move far away from a fight

Aside from Hawks after someone gives him a swift kick to belly

And your general avoidance for anything high impact

Naturally, he’s going to start consulting the all-knowing Merlin if there’s anything she can do to help you

And even though it’s disappointing to hear that she currently has nothing in her arsenal, you at least have a very powerful demon now looking out for you in case of a problem!

(…As if you didn’t have that all along LOL)

Snake

As a (former) member of Noah’s Ark circus, you’re not the first person he’s met with hypermobility

Compared to others, finding out about this aspect of your life isn’t so surprising given his upbringing

Though he can’t say he expected it

Something like this isn’t so obvious until it is

Of course, that doesn’t mean he knows anything about it

He’s not the most sociable (or knowledgeable) for that matter

It was through getting close to you and hearing you speak about yourself that he was able to learn about hypermobility and how it affects you in particular

Finding out about your knee problems and your other sources of pain definitely made him a little more protective

Not like he was doing anything that would end up bad for you in the first place but still!

Snake is a good boy at heart! He’ll look out for you <3

[shewasverynice]

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga)呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)  MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

Rating: Explicit 

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con 

Content Warnings: Dubious Consent, Prostitution, Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Violence

Categories: F/M, Multi, F/F 

Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character(s), Nanami Kento/Original Female Character(s), Getou Suguru/Original Female Character(s), Ieiri Shoko & Iori Utahime 

Major Characters: Original Characters, Gojo Satoru, Getou Suguru, Nanami Kento, Okkotsu Yuuta, Toudou Aoi, Zenin Naobito, Zenin Jinichi, Zenin, Zenin Ougi, Fushiguro Megumi, Kamo Clan, Nitta Akari, Inumaki Toge, Ieiri Shoko, Iori Utahime, Kusakabe Atsuya, Muta Kokichi, Itadori Yuuji, Hakari Kinji

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Chapter 15 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Rin sat at the desk, her head in hands. It had been nearly twenty four hours since Sarah went missing. And of course nothing made that worry spiral even further than learning that Gojo went missing as well around the same time. It basically confirmed her worst fears. Who else would have done it? Who else would have wanted to steal her?

Standing up she brushed back her long hair to try to get a hold of herself. The tears had been threatening her all day, but she was desperate not to cry. Crying wouldn't help and it would just make it harder to keep herself under control. The gang war needed to be addressed still, Tenjiku only had two leaders left and at least one of them needed to be on just in case.

And yet all she wanted was to see him.

Before she knew it or could stop herself, Rin rushed through the streets. Her heart was pounding with each step. Her mind was a whirl of panic and desperation. Bursting through the doors of Yaga's headquarters, she scanned the room wildly until her eyes locked onto Geto.

"Suguru!" she cried, her voice cracking as she ran to him. Tears streamed down her face, and she collapsed into his arms, shaking with sobs. His heart squeezed with a flood of regrets as he held her, his mind racing to understand what was happening. Had she really come to him like this?

"Rin, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Sarah... Sarah is missing," she choked out between sobs, "I can't find her anywhere. Please, I need Nanami. Where is he?"

Geto's jaw tightened. The mention of Nanami stirred a storm of emotions within him—rage, jealousy, and a deep-seated bitterness. But seeing Rin in such distress, he couldn't refuse her. Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone and called Nanami. Within minutes, Nanami arrived, his face set in a determined expression.

"I need to... I need to go look for Gojo," Geto muttered, turning away before his emotions got the better of him. He stormed out of the room, his mind a turbulent sea of conflicting feelings. He couldn't shake the image of Rin in Nanami's arms, the pain of seeing her so vulnerable and the resentment of her turning to someone else for comfort.

And yet... he couldn't bring himself to leave. Peeking through the crack in the door Geto watched them, his fists clenching at his sides. The sight of Nanami comforting Rin, the woman he had once cared so deeply for, was almost too much to bear. He felt a surge of anger and jealousy rise within him, threatening to boil over. He couldn't stand it any longer.

Nanami reached forward, slowly gliding his fingers along her cheeks.

"Rin... Crying again? Soon there'll be nothing left of your beautiful eyes." He whispered, his nose brushing against hers and his forehead mere centimeters from her, "I wanted to do this every time I saw you shed tears." He whispered, his lips delicately pressing to her cheek and tasting the salty drops from her eyes, "I wanted to comfort you. But all I could do was pretend I didn't see it."

"I wanted to touch you, to hold you, to place my hands on your skin, and yet if I did I felt you'd be tainted forever by my sins," his fingertips touched against the back of her neck and he leaned in closer, "I want nothing more than to take you away from this place. I want to take you somewhere where you'll never need to cry again."

Rin pulled back slightly from Nanami, her eyes still filled with tears but now also with a burning anger. She wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms and just forget all of this, but instead she asked, "Have you heard anything from Gojo?" Her voice was trembling with frustration, her fingers clenching at his blazer.

Nanami shook his head, his expression grim, "No, nothing. I've been concerned about him, but I never imagined he'd do something as cruel as kidnapping."

Rin's face contorted with rage, and she clenched her fists, "How could he do this?" Her voice rose, echoing with her furious disbelief, "Hasn't he done enough to her?!"

Nanami held her close, letting her vent her anger, "I know, Rin. I know. But we must stay calm and figure out how to find them. Sarah is strong, even with her injuries. It won't be the end for her."

Rin's angry tears flowed freely, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed in frustration. "I hate him for this. I hate him so much." Her words were choked with emotion, her voice breaking under the weight of her feelings.

Nanami gently stroked her back, his own emotions a mix of concern for Sarah and helplessness in the face of Rin's pain, "We'll find her, Rin. We'll get her back, I promise. We just have to stay strong and work together."

Rin buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. "I just want her to be safe," she whispered, her voice muffled. "I can't lose her."

Nanami held her tightly, offering what comfort he could. "We won't lose her. We'll bring her back, no matter what it takes."

Meanwhile Geto stormed down the hall, the door slamming behind him as he made his way up to the rooftop. The fresh air hit him as he emerged, but it did little to cool the rage simmering within him. He stood there, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, staring out over the cityscape. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional siren were the only sounds, a stark contrast to the chaos and turmoil he felt inside.

Minutes passed as Geto tried to steady his breathing and clear his mind. He heard a slight rustle behind him and turned to see Boe gracefully leap up onto the rooftop. She landed lightly, her movements fluid and cat-like. She looked at him with an unsure smirk, her piercing green eyes studying his face.

"How are you doing, Geto?" she asked, her voice casual but tinged with concern.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I'm stressed from this war, Boe. It's wearing me down. And now this...I'm just annoyed, to be honest."

Boe scoffed, her expression shifting to one of mild amusement, "Annoyed? You shouldn't be surprised that Gojo would take her and run with her."

Geto's jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring out at the horizon. "I didn't think he'd actually do it," he gritted, "I suggested it more as a last resort if she couldn't see reason, not something to be acted on immediately. I didn't expect him to be so...impulsive."

Boe shrugged, leaning against the rooftop's edge. "You know how Gojo is," she said with a little shrug, "He's always been like this. You give him an idea, and he either ignores it completely or goes all in. There's no middle ground with him."

Geto nodded slowly, his frustration evident. "I didn't expect him to have killed those Zen'in," he said, "Now we need him to end this mess we're in but he's all riled up on her and probably every drug he can get. Even if we find him, it's gonna be hell to convince him to come back."

Boe raised an eyebrow, her smirk fading slightly, "Well, it is what it is, and now we've got to deal with the consequences."

Geto sighed again, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "I know. And that's what worries me the most."

Boe stepped closer, "We'll figure it out."

He looked at her, seeing the determination in her eyes, and nodded, "You're right. We have to find a way to fix this."

"So, anyway," Boe said, crossing her arms, "I wanted to see if you and I could help each other with somethin' else."

"Really?" Geto said, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. He put one between his lips, holding the pack up for her.

"You guys were investigating the Kamo, yeah? Looking into the drugs stuff?" Boe asked, reaching for one of his cigarettes, "Because I might be able to help with that."

"Oh?" Geto tilted his head, then put the end of the cigarette to his lighter before lighting hers as well, "Do tell then."

"First I need to know what I get from telling you this," Boe said with a smirk, "This is top secret Kamo shit. You can't just get this stuff anywhere."

Geto chuckled, "Alright then, how about a favor from me? No limits. Whatever you want," he leaned in, his eyes half-lidded as he purred, "Anything at all."

Boe pulled her cigarette from her lips, holding it in her fingers as she licked her lips, "Oh really? I'm not sure if just your body is good enough for that."

"We could always find out, sometime?" Geto said with a nonchalant shrug, "Since I'm not allowed to distract the girls at Tenjiku and your favorite fuck toy has run off with his obsession. Perhaps we can give it a shot?"

Boe laughed, "You're getting sloppy. Whatever game you're trying to pull here is way too obvious."

Geto laughed as well, "Fair enough, you've caught me. I suppose it has been a long week."

"Still," Boe said, stepping forward to playfully punch lightly at his jawline, "Maybe we could have a little fun sometime on the side. Aside from that though, listen up. The Kamo clan doesn't have anyone who can use blood manipulation in the way you are thinking."

"Oh?" Geto narrowed his eyes, "Really? Then how are they doing it?"

"Well, to be fair, it's not impossible for some members to have that kind of technique. We haven't seen one, but it's not impossible," Boe explained, "What they've been doing is simply drawing blood from specific sources. But! That blood they're using? It's powerful stuff." She pointed at Geto, "Who's blood do you think could manage that, hmm?"

"Are you suggesting..." Geto's voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing, "Are they using their collection of Sukuna's fingers for this?"

"Bingo!" Boe said, pointing a finger gun at him, "So remember when Rin and Nanami went to Malaysia? They found some old info on someone called Q.N. and all that? The one thing I know for sure is that Q.N. and the Kamo clan are good buddies from way back. Whoever it is was the one who orchestrated the whole ritual thing with Sarah and they were gonna use her blood for this."

Geto stared at Boe, "Why are you telling me all this? Does Rin or... Or does Sarah know you know this?"

"Nah," Rin shook her head, "They'll find out on their own. Gojo will tell Sarah and Rin, and Nanami will find out soon enough. But you? You have no way of knowing this stuff."

"Alright," Geto said, dropping his cigarette and rubbing it out with the toe of his shoe, "Why? No games. Why are you telling me this?"

"You," Boe said, leaning closer and running a finger down his jawline, "Are the one in control of the prison realm right now. It will only obey your command. I need that threat of releasing Sukuna."

"I'm not going to do that," Geto scowled, "There's no circumstance that--"

"Chill, I don't want to actually let that thug out of there," Boe chuckled, "But I need the idea that we might. I need the threat."

"For what?" Geto asked, taking a step back from her.

"I want into the Kamo vault," Boe said, holding her gaze with Geto's, "There's something in there I want."

"And you're not going to tell me, correct?" Geto sighed,  "I wouldn't tell you either, but still. This mystery is tiring."

"Alright, fuck it then," Boe laughed, "The have a mummified Hannya in there. I want to eat it."

"Why?" Geto asked quietly, "What do you need that kind of power for?"

"Sarah's not the only one looking for revenge," Boe said with a smirk, "Think about it. If I get what I want, the Kamo group won't be a problem anymore and if she gets what she wants the Gojo clan will be wiped out except for your shitty invincible best friend."

"And the Zen'in?" Geto asked, "Think we could eliminate them as well?'

Boe grinned, "If I can get to that Hannya then there isn't gonna be anything left of any of them."

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

Megumi Zen'in walked through the dimly lit alley behind the school, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The weight of the ongoing gang war and the recent escalation of violence sat heavily on his shoulders. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

As he leaned against the wall, the sound of footsteps approached. He glanced up to see Yuji Itadori walking towards him, his expression unreadable. They locked eyes for a tense moment before Itadori reached into his pocket, pulling out his own lighter.

"Need a light?" Itadori offered, breaking the silence.

Megumi hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Itadori squatted down in front of him, flicking the lighter open and holding the flame out. Megumi leaned in, lighting his cigarette and taking a deep drag. The two stood there in silence, the smoke from their cigarettes mingling in the air.

After a few minutes of quiet, Itadori finally spoke, "Do you still hate me for choosing Yaga's group instead of Zen'in?"

Megumi exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting away in circling plumes, "No, I never hated you, Yuji. I just...I just wish this stupid war was over."

Itadori nodded, his gaze distant. "Yeah, me too. It's Toji's fault, really. If he hadn't gone after Fumiya, maybe things would be different. And I wish Hakari had been less aggressive. This whole mess might not have happened."

Megumi's jaw tightened as he thought about the recent events, "It's like a domino effect. One wrong move, and everything falls apart."

Itadori glanced at him, his expression somber. "I know. And now we're all caught in the middle of it."

Megumi took another drag of his cigarette, the embers glowing in the dim light, "We need to find a way to end this."

Itadori nodded in agreement, "Yeah. But it's hard to see a way out when everyone is so deep into it. The hate, the grudges... it's like poison that's seeped into everything."

They stood in silence again, the weight of their words hanging in the air. The distant sounds of the city served as a reminder of the world beyond their small, tumultuous corner of it.

"I miss how things used to be," Megumi said quietly. "Before all of this. When we were just trying to make it through school, hanging out, training together."

Itadori smiled faintly. "Yeah, me too. Those were simpler times. Feels like a lifetime ago."

The breeze picked up through the alley as they smoked. It was difficult to find the words, especially when it felt like they should be killing each other. But, Itadori eventually broke the silence, turning to Megumi with a curious expression, "Do you like being a lieutenant?"

Megumi shrugged, exhaling a plume of smoke, "It doesn't mean much to me. My uncle gave me the title, but he doesn't let me have any real authority. I'm just a figurehead."

Itadori nodded, absorbing Megumi's words. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, "Would you have punished Toji for killing Fumiya?"

Megumi's eyes darkened as he nodded firmly. He pointed at Itadori as he said, "Absolutely. I'm pissed that Naobito won't do anything about it. It's like he's pretending it was his idea. But I also think Naobito is afraid of Toji."

Itadori looked down at his shoes, processing Megumi's words before looking up again and quietly asking, "Do you really think he's afraid of him?"

"Yeah," Megumi replied, his voice tinged with frustration, "Toji's a wild card. He's unpredictable and dangerous. Even someone as powerful as Naobito doesn't want to cross him."

Itadori sighed, leaning back against the wall. "It's just messed up. Fumiya deserved justice, not this... Whole stupid war."

Megumi nodded, the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. "I know. And it's not just about Fumiya. It's about the principle. If Toji can get away with something like this, it sets a precedent that power and fear can overshadow justice."

Itadori flicked the ash from his cigarette, his expression thoughtful. "So what do we do? How do we change things?"

Megumi took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing in determination. "We keep pushing. We expose the truth, and we hold people accountable. Even if it means going against our own families."

Itadori glanced at him, admiration in his eyes. "You're braver than most, Megumi. I respect that."

A faint smile tugged at Megumi's lips. "We just have to hope we can shape the future."

As the conversation between Itadori and Megumi continued, a shadow loomed over them. Hakari approached, his expression a mix of fury and disdain. He froze for a moment when he saw Megumi, then a cruel smile spread across his face.

"Well, well, look who it is," Hakari sneered. "Are you happy with how your Dad started all this? Proud, Zen'in?"

Megumi scoffed, his eyes narrowing, "Piss off, Hakari. I don't have time for your bullshit."

Hakari's eyes flashed with anger. "You shouldn't show your face around this school again, Zen'in. You're a disgrace," he hissed.

Itadori stepped in, trying to diffuse the situation. He smiled a little sheepishly, "Hakari, chill out. This isn't helping anyone."

Hakari's gaze shifted to Itadori, the fury intensifying. "Stay out of this, Yuji. This has nothing to do with you."

Itadori held his ground. "It has everything to do with me. You're not solving anything by picking fights."

Hakari pushed forward, shoving Itadori. "You think you're so high and mighty, huh? Defending the son of a murderer?"

Itadori pushed back, his patience wearing thin. "Knock it off, Hakari. You're just making things worse."

The tension escalated rapidly. Hakari swung at Itadori, his fist connecting with a solid thud. Itadori stumbled but quickly regained his footing, retaliating with a punch of his own. The two clashed in a flurry of fists and anger, the fight quickly spiraling out of control.

Megumi watched, a mix of frustration and helplessness coursing through him. He knew stepping in would only escalate the situation further, but he couldn't just stand by. "Stop it, both of you!"

But his words were drowned out by the sounds of the scuffle. Hakari and Itadori grappled, their movements becoming more frantic and desperate. Itadori managed to pin Hakari against the wall, breathing heavily. "Enough, Hakari. This isn't solving anything."

Hakari struggled, his rage unabated. "You don't understand, Yuji. He needs to pay for what his dad did."

Itadori's grip tightened, his voice firm. "And fighting like this isn't going to bring Fumiya back. We need to focus on the real problems, not tear each other apart."

Hakari's struggles lessened, the fight draining out of him. He slumped against the wall, panting heavily. Itadori released him, taking a step back. The three of them stood there, the tension still thick in the air.

Megumi finally spoke, his voice low but resolute. "This isn't how we fix things. We need to be better than this."

Hakari glared at him but didn't respond. Itadori nodded, wiping the blood from his lip. "He's right. We need to find a way to end this war, not fuel it."

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

"Sarah-"

“No, don't ask questions Satoru."

"Please?"

Sarah jerked her arm away when Gojo grasped at it. She turned to glare at him, her eyes full of rage and her jaw tight. "Don't touch me."

"I can touch you if I want," Gojo growled, grabbing her arm again and holding tighter. Tight enough that he knows she couldn't pull away. "Please, just talk to me. I need to know what's going on in your head."

Sarah's eyebrows were an angry line and if it was possible to frown with your whole body, she managed to make it happen. Gojo felt oddly guilty despite it being her fault, but he really had no idea what was going on with her. There was no explanation that wasn't exactly what he was afraid of but still he needed to know.

"This was supposed to be no questions asked," She muttered, "You don't--"

"Cut the bullshit," he growled, "What are you planning? Tell me right now or I'll take your little ass back home."

Sarah's eyes were not the eyes he remembered. They were dark, almost hollow, and filled with a cold, calculating madness that he had never seen before. There was a sharpness to them, a dangerous glint that made his skin crawl. He had seen many things in his life, faced down countless enemies, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer ferocity and unhinged nature reflected in her stare.

Her voice, when she spoke, was low and edged with a tension that made the air in the room feel electric. "Satoru," she said, the syllables of his name rolling off her tongue with a mix of familiarity and disdain, "You understand what needs to be done, don't you?"

Gojo's heart pounded in his chest, the fear creeping up on him as he struggled to process the situation. He had always seen Sarah as a victim, someone he needed to protect and save. But now, as he looked into her eyes, he realized just how wrong he had been. She wasn't the broken, fragile woman he had thought she was. She was something far more dangerous.

There was a cold, methodical quality to her movements as she leaned closer, the shadows casting eerie patterns on her face. "You know what they did to me," she continued, her voice unwavering, "You know what they deserve."

Gojo swallowed hard, his mouth dry. He had always prided himself on his strength, his ability to face any challenge head-on. But now, confronted with the sheer intensity of Sarah's resolve, he felt a terror he had never known before. It wasn't just the fear of what she might do, but the fear of what she could easily make him do.

"You don't have to—" he started, but she cut him off with a sharp look.

"Oh, but I do," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "And so do you. Because you owe it to me."

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He had seen madness before, in the eyes of enemies and allies alike, but never like this. Sarah's madness was born of pain and suffering, twisted into something unrecognizable. She had become a force of vengeance, and the thought of what she was capable of terrified him to his core.

Gojo's hands trembled as he tried to stand, but his legs felt weak. He had always been the strongest, the one others relied on, but now he felt powerless in the face of Sarah's determination. He could see the resolve in her eyes, the unyielding commitment to her cause, and he knew there was no turning back.

In that moment, Gojo realized that he wasn't just dealing with a broken woman seeking revenge. He was facing a formidable force, a storm of anger and pain that threatened to consume everything in its path. And the worst part was, he knew she could drag him down with her, make him complicit in her quest for retribution.

As Sarah's gaze bore into him, Gojo felt a cold sweat break out across his skin. He had never been so terrified in his life, not by any enemy or any challenge. The realization of just how dangerous and unhinged Sarah had become shook him to his very core.

"Sweetheart..." Gojo mumbled, "This isn't like you. I know you're angry but this is... This--"

"I've already eaten them," she said plainly, "And you're gonna get me the rest, do you understand?"

"I- I won't," Gojo stammered, "Ten is plenty for you to-"

Sarah's expression suddenly softened, the dangerous glint in her eyes replaced by a look of profound sadness and vulnerability. Her voice, previously edged with cold determination, now trembled as she spoke. "Satoru," she said softly, her eyes welling up with tears, "Please, help me. I can't do this alone anymore. Don't you love me? Don't you want me to be happy?"

The shift was so abrupt, so convincingly genuine, that Gojo felt a lump form in his throat. His chest tightened with a mix of guilt and confusion. He knew she was manipulating him, using his emotions against him, but the sight of her looking so broken and desperate tore at his defenses.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. The guilt of his past actions weighed too heavily on him, and seeing her like this made it almost unbearable. He knew what she was doing, knew she was playing him like a puppet to get what she wanted, but still, he found himself unable to resist.

"Sarah..." he whispered, his voice cracking. "I..."

Before he could finish, she reached out and took his hand, her touch gentle and pleading. "Please," she begged, "I need you."

Gojo's resolve crumbled. Despite the warning bells ringing in his mind, despite knowing deep down that this was all part of her manipulation, he couldn't turn away. He couldn't bear to see her suffer, even if it was all an act.

"I... I'll help you," he said, his voice barely audible.

Sarah's expression brightened, and she leaned in, pressing her lips against his. The kiss was intoxicating, sending a rush of conflicting emotions through him. It felt like everything he had ever wanted, like a high that dulled his senses and made him forget the reality of their situation. But underneath the surface, it was sickening. He knew she didn't mean it, knew it was just another tool in her arsenal to control him.

As she pulled back, he could still feel the lingering warmth of her kiss, the ghost of her touch. It left him feeling hollow and used, but he couldn't deny the effect it had on him. He was caught in her web, ensnared by a love that was twisted and toxic.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with false sincerity, "You've always been there for me when I need you."

Gojo nodded, swallowing hard against the knot in his throat. He was trapped, unable to escape the pull of her manipulation. As he looked into her eyes, he saw the sadness and vulnerability had vanished, replaced once again by that cold, calculating gaze. He had played right into her hands, and he knew there was no going back.

Gojo's days and nights blurred together in a haze of obsessive love and growing terror. The cycle of manipulation Sarah had ensnared him in was relentless, a twisted dance of affection and control that left him both exhilarated and broken.

Every time she touched him, every time her lips met his, a surge of intense emotions would flood his system. He felt an overwhelming, addictive love for her, a deep-seated need to be near her, to protect her, to make her happy. Her moments of affection were intoxicating; her kisses made his heart race, and her whispered words of love and need were like a drug, filling the void inside him with a temporary, blissful warmth.

But beneath the surface, a constant undercurrent of fear gnawed at him. He knew what she was doing, knew that her affection was a weapon she wielded with expert precision. The look in her eyes, so cold and calculating when she thought he wasn't watching, betrayed the reality of her intentions. She was using him, manipulating him with sex and false affection to get what she wanted, and he was helpless to resist.

The guilt was a constant, oppressive weight on his shoulders. In the rare moments of clarity, when he wasn't lost in the euphoria of her touch or the numbing comfort of drugs, he saw the truth of their situation. He knew that he was being pulled deeper into her web, that his love for her was being twisted and corrupted by her manipulations. The drugs were a double-edged sword; they dulled the pain and confusion but also heightened the guilt. Every high was followed by a crushing low, a reminder of how far he had fallen.

His nights were the worst. As he lay beside her, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts, he couldn't shake the fear that gnawed at his soul. He would watch her sleep, her face peaceful and serene, and feel a wave of love so intense it almost hurt. But he also felt the terror of what she was doing to him, the knowledge that she was tearing him apart from the inside out.

He knew he needed to break free, but every time he tried, she would reel him back in with a touch, a kiss, a promise of love that he couldn't resist. The lines between right and wrong, love and manipulation, became increasingly blurred. He was losing himself, drowning in the depths of his obsession for her and the terror of what she was turning him into.

And through it all, the drugs remained his crutch. They numbed the pain, dulled the fear, and allowed him to keep going, even as he felt himself unraveling. But every high brought with it the crushing guilt of knowing he was using them to escape the truth, to avoid facing the reality of what he had become.

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