#wad excerpts

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

The Baby Assignment HCs

CW: Crude humour

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The lifeskills and health professor tapped his pointer against the board.

"THAT concludes our unit on the development of children in their early years. Each species varies slightly, but each come with their unique set of challenges. You will learn that fairly quickly."

A few awkward chuckles circulated the room, but a random student at the back of the room swung his legs up on his desk, leaning back as he locked his hands behind his head, a smirk on his face.

"Whatchya implyin' there prof? It ain't like any of us are gettin' any action, at least. Not the kind that would pop out a crotch goblin." A few snickers from two other students soon died out as the rare, smug, grin grew on the profs face.

"Your lovelife and lack thereof is of nobody's interest. I was referring to your unit exam."

With a flick of his wrist, the utility closet at the side of the room opened, and out floated eerily realistic looking baby dolls, one setting in front of each student, along with a wad of tickets

The looks across his students faces only fueled his grin as he began pacing.

"You will be taking care of your baby for the span of one month. Upon powering it on, it will respond to your magical signature and resemble you in looks alone. The tickets are to be treated like thaumarks - that's all you get for the month, and you must ensure you have all the necessary supplies for your child. The ticket amounts vary according to the accommodations you may need for your doll. It cannot be turned back off unless I personally switch it off, unless you wish for the doll to begin throwing a tantrum. Your other professors already know of this assignment- the dolls are programmed to not go off while in classrooms besides this one. It is capable of everything a real child is. If it is abandoned or left crying without comfort for more than 20 minutes, it will send an alert to my phone and I will dock 5% from your mark every time it alerts, which is every five minutes. The doll also has a tamper proof magic seal- if you attempt to disable the baby, the same consequences are applied. If you return the doll with any damage, your mark will be deducted proportionately. If you have any questions - ask your parents, they've been through this already. You are encouraged to work together and be resourceful. The instructions, requirements and rubric are posted online. I'll be checking to make sure everyone's dolls are activated before they leave the room."

The home ec teacher turned his back, grinning slightly over his shoulder as the bell rang.

"Good luck."

Heartslaybul

Riddle

He's taking this assignment just as seriously as any other. After class, he beelines it to the library with his baby, planning on holding it while he creates a spreadsheet to budget his tickets accordingly for the month, but the doll starts fussing near immediately.

He's more embarrassed that he can't get it to be quiet while he's trying to work, and tries to bounce it gently like he'd seen his mother deal with fussy babies before, but to no avail. It's not until he takes off his jacket to use as a swaddle and gently bounce and burp the baby that it settles again. He decides that he'll be better off just going to Sam's and doing the math mentally than go through the embarrassment again.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt:

I found the most difficult part of this assignment to be the restless nights. I am a fairly light sleeper, so the issue wasn't struggling to wake up to calm the doll down; rather, the intermittent waking and rest impacted my ability to focus in class and while studying. I'm forever grateful that the programming of the doll did not interrupt lectures.

Mark Achieved: 100%

Trey

Oh lord. Can he not apply for advanced credit? He basically raised his siblings anyways. No? Okay. He takes this assignment in stride, almost a little disappointed that he won't get to try "babysitting" a beastman or fae, but at least the familiarity will make this assignment easy.

He stops by Sam's right away to pick up diapers and wipes and that's it.

He uses an old curtain to fashion a swaddle for doll and wears it as he prepares a month's worth of homemade, (tasty) baby food. He ends up finding he kind of forgets that the doll is...a doll and genuinely treats it like a child.

His grandpa had an old trick to keep kids asleep through the night, so for shits and giggles, he tries it on the doll too. To his surprise, it ends up working. All in all, the assignment is a walk in the park.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

This was one of the easiest A's I've gotten in this class. If you want to make it real challenging for the next set of students, you should update the programming to respond to textures the baby doesn't like.

Mark Achieved: 100%

Cater

Uuuuuugh does he have to? At least he has a doll to dress up now, right? That part must be fun.

It's not fun.

Being the baby himself, he never realized just how difficult dressing one was. Shoes and socks will never stay on. Onesies get sucked on and wet and gross and need to be changed so often. This man has never changed a diaper, what do you mean this doll is capable of all the same things as a real child. Oh thank god, it's just the diaper with an indicator of when it WOULD be soiled.

It only takes two days before Cater is OVER it. But he really needs a decent grade in this class, so he tries to keep himself motivated, but it's hard on the fake budget he's been given.

He ends up looking up how to make baby food himself so he can give himself more spending tickets for cute, more-easy-to-change outfits.

He did, however, end up taking the doll to PMC, sat down, and passed out for the duration of the club meet. Lilia and Kalim watched the baby for him, but that ended in a ransom note from them telling Cater that if he didn't show them his latest riff he had been working on, they would not return the baby. Lilia thought it was funny. Kalim thought it was a normal part of childhood. Cater almost walked away.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

If I have to redo this assignment to pass this class I think I'd rather fail.

Mark Achieved: 65%

Marks Docked:

Soiled diaper - left on for 15+ minutes x 3 = 15%

Diaper rash - untreated = 10%

Deuce

Doesn't even hesitate, he heads straight home. Like. Crowley's office to get a pass and then back to his mom. He's a little frazzled and overwhelmed, he had no idea this was what his unit exam was going to entail.

He feels substantially better after speaking to his mom, making a list of everything he needs, and a list of tips that she had to give for difficult to navigate situations with the baby - whom Deuce had already named Evangeline.

Deuce works himself into a very strict schedule with the baby, in order to make sure he'll get a mark an honours student would be proud of, and because he hates hearing the baby cry.

He has to admit, at one point when he couldn't get it to quiet down, he turned off his hearing aids (HC) just so that he could calm it without getting frustrated as quickly.

He sleeps with the baby next to him so he doesn't have to sleep with his "ears" in, and can feel when the baby is crying instead. Usually.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

I tried really hard to make sure the baby was taken care of. I think the rubric should be updatd updated though. No parent ever is able to operate at 100% all the time and be a perfect parent. I'm not complaining about the assignment, but I think that maybe if we know we've done something wrong and we can explain what happened or take acountablitye accountability for our actions, maybe we should be able to get some points back or something.

Mark Achieved: 90% + 2% (bonus)

Marks Docked:

Unattended crying - 40 minutes = 10%

Bonus Marks:

Excellent suggestion, Spade. I will take your feedback into account for the future.

Ace

He wants to pawn this off SO BAD. Kids are gross. They're fine if they're not yours but by god the amount of birthday party horror stories his brother has told him as an entertainer leaves a pretty awful taste in his mouth.

If it was a real baby, he knows he could be like - the best dad there ever was to dad. He has a pretty good template in his brother, and an exact recipe of what NOT to be in his father! (HC) but like. This assignment is boring.

He has a decent grade in the class, so he's not too worried about flunking this "test", but he still kind of wants to pass still. Buuuut if word got out that he did poorly to Riddle, he may as well say goodbye to his precious free time.

He ends up falling into a pretty easy rhythm, though remembering to "buy" baby food before he's completely out is a little difficult and he ends up having to take on a few of Trey's chores so he'll show him how to just make enough to last til the end of the semester.

He doesn't sleep very well anyways, so if anything he comes off as more wired than tired by the end of the assignment. He will crash, and 17 hours of sleep later he will reach out to check on the baby and get an inexplicable wave of sadness when it's not around anymore. Maybe kids aren't as bad as he thought.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

I actually found this easier than expected? Maybe I'm being a little over confident here. The learning curve is steep, but once you get the hang of it it's not...THAT bad.

Mark Achieved: 95%

Marks Docked:

Solid foods were introduced too soon = 5%

Savannaclaw

Leona

He didn't show up to class. He actually did do the assignment, last year, and got a decent mark but there was no way in hell he was going to do it again. When a classmate ended up bringing him the doll he IMMEDIATELY paid Ruggie off to do the assignment for him. When he was confronted by the teacher, he said that the tickets didn't account for childcare, like real parents have to account for when they're too busy to care for their kids. So he did what he had to do. The teacher should be thanking him for not making him reimburse him for the money spent.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

Refer to last year's entry you lazy bastard.

Mark Achieved: 95%

Marks Docked:

You made your point, but name calling is juvenile even for you. = 5%

Ruggie

Bah, he takes care of rugrats all the time back home! However, he knows that his community could likely benefit from these essentially, free childcare items. Even if he can't tamper with the magic on the doll, he can sure as hell find someone who can tamper with the magic on the items from Sam's. He exchanges most of his tickets right away for food, toiletries, and one umbrella stroller. Then he offers to "babysit" for free for someone who has more magical prowess than he does that can override the magic on the items. He then takes all that shit HOME and gives it to his community, all while having his baby in a baby wrap against him. Easy A, and came with benefits.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

Easier than a real kid, that's for sure! At least it wasn't teething. When beastmen cut teeth for the first time the poor kids have it rougher than their caregiver. Ain't nobody happy!

Mark Achieved: 100%

Notes:

While tampering with the magical items was not explicitly against the rules, it is advised you do not pursue that route to success again.

Jack

Oh dear lord. His real sister hates doing stuff with him because he always breaks everything, he is so scared of breaking the doll. He remembers when his siblings were little, he was scared of holding them too, because he didn't want to hurt him. On the other hand, the doll also absolutely reminds him of his siblings when they were babies, with floopy little ears and blue eyes and oh god the tiny tail? He's emotionally attached. The baby, however, is almost always a little uncomfortable, usually from being too warm because Jack keeps bundling it up to try and protect it from his own strength. But he also doesn't trust ANYBODY so he's constantly holding it, he refuses to put it down. His practices just happen to line up with Crewel's prep time, so he ends up leaving the doll in his classroom! Reason being that it won't go off if it's in the classroom, but in the chance that it did, Crewel would be able to override it.

Besides a simulated heat rash, the baby is otherwise okay, though Jack was VERY concerned for the dolls safety when he saw the rash flare up.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

Most people don't have to do this alone, but I'm glad that I was able to prove to myself I could if I had to. At least, some parts of it. I'm just glad my siblings never saw me with the doll, they'd have made it their mission to do better than me, and they're not even in their double digits yet.

Mark Achieved: 80%

Marks Docked:

Heat rash - untreated, not documented in journal = 10% Crying unattended x 2 = 10%

Octavinelle

Azul

There are not many things that can come between Azul and his grades. He works very hard to maintain them. But the chubby little octopus mer staring back at him in what was essentially a fishbowl (just for transport to the dorm) destroyed any sort of direct involvement he wanted to have with it. He had, briefly, considered pawning the thing off to Jade, but he couldn't bring himself to subject the doll to that - sevens knows what experiments Jade was running on his own doll anyways.

Azul, as ashamed as he is to do so, ends up paying off Ruggie to hide the doll somewhere in Trein's classroom, where he won't find it for the duration of the month.

As good of a plan as it may have sounded, after school hours the doll was left to cry and sob, and also as a mer, dried out. However, as prepared as Azul is, he got it back two days before hand in. He thought he could convince Idia to repair it for him, but then found out that Idia refused to do the repair because of a deal he had with the health teacher.

With his grades and reputation on the line, he ends up swallowing his pride and handing in the assignment a day early, after school ends, just to avoid the judgmental looks from other classmates. He also asks for another assignment to make up for this one in advance, knowing full well he failed.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

Exempt

Mark Achieved: N/A Notes: If you had spoken with me at the beginning of the month, we could have sorted this out sooner Ashengrotto. Your communication skills are not to the calibre I would have expected for a young businessman like yourself. Come see me next Tuesday at lunch.

Jade

He thinks it's funny. He has a little elver on his hands, but he knows it's not real. He holds no sentiments towards it. At first he found the assignment rather easy, but trying to work while taking care of the elver became rather. Annoying.

Needless to say, Jade lasted about 3 days. After it was deactivated, he let his curiousity get the better of him. Even though the head of the doll and voicebox of the doll were completely obliterated, he took pride in his near surgical precision when it came to dismantling the rest of the doll, sorting each part by size, colour and perceived importance.

He was rather proud to deliver his assortment of pieces and the "skin" that covered the entire thing in such an organized manner at the end of the assignment.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

I wish the interior of the doll was more anatomically correct.

Mark Achieved: 25% Notes: You only achieved 25% to account for the consideration you took after breaking the doll. It was a rather unique approach to avoid complete and utter failure of the assignment.

Floyd (THIS IS A LITTLE ANGSTY IM SORRY IM SORRY)

AT FIRST it sounded great. He had a little elver to take swimming with him. It was a great excuse to get out of work, and if the thing got "hungry", he could just ask the kitchen for shrimp and he could grind it into paste for the little guy. Also, if he was always in the water, it meant NO diaper changes (sorry) but its true! He had it easy!

Wait no what do you mean he can't bring a glass bowl with a baby to it to the basketball court Jamil what's the worst thing that could happen.

Obviously, the bowl ends up getting hit and shattering. Floyd's eyes glaze over a bit as the kid starts crying for the first time and "gasping" for air. He has to remind himself it's just a doll, Jamil's reprimands going over his head. He picks the little thing up, holding it just tight enough it can't squirm out of his hands, debating whether it's worth the trouble to get it back into water, or just to fail the assignment. He figures it's a pretty big screw up, and his grade is already good in that class.

There's a loud pop and crack as Floyd decapitates the doll, shrugging slightly as he tosses both pieces onto the ground, tiny shards of hardware scattering among the broken glass and water.

"There, it ain't cryin'. You guys can handle the clean up."

Jamil ends up finding him crying in the locker room, but prevents anyone else from going in, not wanting to get involved. A few days later, Floyd gets the doll back, swaddled in a wet cloth and fully functional outside of his door. He will NEVER admit how much that impacted him.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

I know you don't read this stuff, so the first and last paragraphs are coherent and the rest I'm bullshittin' to take up space. Im gonna get a hundred on the written portion I just know it.

Mark Achieved: 90%

Marks Docked: Significant Damage Detected - 10%

Notes: I only docked 10% instead of 20% as the doll returned in perfect working condition. Your conclusion was very well written, earning you a few bonus marks.

(Floyd breaks the fourth wall and looks knowingly at you with a smug ass grin /jjjjj)

Scarabia

Kalim

"Oh it's like taking care of my little siblings!" Yes well most of his little siblings can walk, all of them have moms to dote on them and servants to watch over them when he can't.

Kalim, however, is insistent on trying to do it on his own. Kind of.

He has his carpet follow him around everywhere, just because he knows he forgets a lot of things. But if he has ONE place to ALWAYS put the baby down and that ONE place can FOLLOW him how in the world can he forget anything! It's a win-win situation.

He's never changed a diaper before, and he's still not good at it, but he's got the right idea!

And he knows all the best foods to feed it, very familiar with the multiple milestones a kid should be at, but he got a little too excited to introduce it to ALL the types of food he could offer it (via Jamil).

Also, lets be real, a baby would love all the colours that Scarabia has to offer, so even just setting the doll down on the carpet helps calm it down sometimes!

It's not until the end of the month, when Kalim brings the doll to P.E and does a flip on the carpet with the baby on it that he realizes his mistake. Jamil spares him the visual of the doll shattering, saving it right before it hits the ground. Kalim spends the rest of the day being extra careful with the doll, and even going to "the doll doctor" (Idia) in tears, asking him to check and make sure nothing is damaged.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

It was really hard to take care of a kid alllll the time! But I had fun doing it. I'm going to make sure I thank my mom a lot when I go home again though.

Mark Achieved: 85%

Marks Docked:

Solid Food Introduced Too Soon - x 3 = 10%

Jamil

AW HELL NAH

His competitive spirit eats at him a bit, but he decides to be petty resourceful instead. For two days he takes care of the doll impeccably, before returning to the prof and being very blunt and honest about the skills he has and how he came to develop them.

He had to take care of his little sister, and now he has to take care of Kalim, and Kalim's doll, (despite Kalim's best efforts).

He ends up negotiating to write an essay instead that he can submit online regarding how he believes parenting has evolved over the years, and what methods he has found effective in his pseudo-guardian role. He ends up getting full marks, as it was technically not an assignment he had to compete against Kalim for.

Pomefiore

Vil

He wants to say he doesn't have time for this. To make up some excuse about his beauty sleep. But there's a small part of Vil that softens immediately when he sees the doll; a part of him that imagines that doll aging into a toddler and being thrown to the wolves of the filming industry like he was. Though he knows it's little more than delusion, his thoughts still worm their way into how he treats the doll.

He puts in the research to give the doll the best food he can, but also makes an effort to feed it "desserts" (usually mashed strawberries but yknow for a baby that's a big deal!)

He struggles to cope most with waking up often and the MESS a baby makes simply by existing. He hides it well enough, though his hair care regiment starts to slip a bit over the course of the month, a detail that does not go unnoticed by many students. Vil also indulges in coffee a little more often than he should, though nobody dares to point either change out out of fear. He also tends to opt for a more toned down make up look. But you will never catch the queen looking as tired as they feel.

The other difficult part was managing the sheer amount of people who wanted photos of the doll. Vil made a strict no photos policy to the point he put a curse on the doll so that if anyone took a photo of it, the SD card/gallery would be wiped on the device they used. Real or not, Vil does not want any photos of the child online.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

Seeing as our doll counterparts resemble us in appearance, it would have been nice if the same photo policy that was applied to us at the beginning of the year was applied to the dolls as well.

Mark Achieved: 95%

Marks Docked:

Minor Skin Irritation - 5%

Rook

:) If you know the way I HC'd his upbringing, you know that he won't know SHIT about babies.

Honestly having the little guy around is...it hurts a little. He has no idea how to handle kids, at least not ones this small. He ends up paying Ruggie off to take care of it and takes GREAT care to hide it from Vil and his other classmates.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

I can only hope that one day, I will be a better father to a child than I was to this doll.

Mark Achieved: 100%

Epel

Oh god oh shit oh fuck oh lord godfuckingdamnit he is NOT READY. He is looking at his pseudo-flesh potato in disgust. It immediately bursts into tears.

He tries everything he can to make it stop crying, but it's not until he has to run to the washroom while he's at spelldrive that he finally catches a break, thanks to Leona. The doll ends up going into a sleep cycle as soon as Leona holds it and hums a bit, but he denies doing it (everyone saw him do it).

Epel gets the info from Ruggie and tries to do it himself later, but it doesn't work. Cue a VERY sleep deprived Epel with a VERY grumpy baby showing up at an EQUALLY grumpy lion's bedroom at 4 in the morning. Epel has a bluetooth speaker and death metal booted up if Leona doesn't take the doll for a couple hours, (thanks to Heartshackle and Jack's recounting of what happened in chapter 3), so Leona just takes the damn thing and Epel passes out in the beanbag chair in Leona's room.

Leona ends up teasing Epel because the reason it didn't work was because his voice wasn't low enough to make the baby sleepy OTL Epel gave him a look so dirty he may as well have been a warthog in a mudbath.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt (hes just kidding guys)

If my kid is this fussy, it's gonna be the reason I start drinking the other kind of cider.

Mark Achieved: 70% 85%

Marks Docked:

Unattended Crying x 6 = 30%

Notes:

After having your doll reviewed, there was an error in the coding, thus the restoration of 15%. If you would like to further negotiate your mark, please come speak with me.

(SKIPPING IGNIHYDE FOR NOW IT'LL MAKE SENSE AT THE END DON'T KILL ME PLEASE /lh)

Diasomnia

Malleus

He held it for two seconds, then it sneezed fire in his face. Lilia is SO damn giddy. Welcome to hell parenthood Malleus, it's going to get bitey.

He actually has it easier than Lilia did, getting a non-royal fae baby means no dragonet, just a very fussy little dude. Malleus finds it rather entertaining, and a little unnerving at how far technomancy has come to develop such complex machines.

Despite it's realistic appearance, Malleus finds himself neglecting it often, simply because he cannot listen for its heartbeat or breathing like he does with his loved ones to make sure they're near. His time blindness also makes him susceptible to putting the doll down and leaving for far longer than he should.

Lilia ends up taking on the brunt of the assignment, purely for nostalgia's sake. Sebek would have taken on the responsibility, but his own inexperience hindered him.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

I found the project rather unnerving. It was capable of nearly everything a living being was capable of, yet possessed no heart nor soul to speak of, unlike the younger Shroud brother. I look forward to the day I can more truly experience rearing a child of my own.

Mark Achieved: 55%

Marks Docked:

Unattended crying x 4 = 20%

Delayed Feeding by 15+ minutes x 2 = 20 %

Minor abrasion = 5%

Notes: Just because a child or assignment isn't how you expect it to be, doesn't mean you get to shirk responsibility, Draconia.

Lilia

He finds this situation hilarious AND the perfect opportunity to tease Silver. Caring for the doll is easy - it's nothing like real kids in his opinion. But whenever he cradles it, he can't help but think of Silver and the way he used to fit between his palm and the crook of his elbow.

It only takes a little bit of trial and error to figure out what his doll likes, and he knows allllll the warning signs for when it's about to cry or fall asleep or anything else.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

Doing this for a third time around was much easier than the first two times!

Mark Achieved: 100%

Silver

Narcolepsy is a beast for Silver to try and tame, and he's still training it! Adding on the responsibility of taking care of a child is daunting, especially since he knows even his own father can't wake him up.

However, Silver very quickly comes to learn he will wake up when someone sounds like they're in distress. It's not fun to wake up that way, and there's still about 1 in every 4 attacks that he can't wake up from, but he's somewhat conscious enough to know the kid is in trouble. He ends up dealing with chronic fatigue, as his body just is NOT used to the stress response that's induced from hearing the baby cry.

Silver also found out the hard way his baby was allergic to hay when he went to Equestrian Club. Riddle ends up feeling bad for his classmate, volunteering to look after the doll for a few hours in exchange for two of Trein's lectures, which Silver has permission to record. (Riddle didn't feel his notes were up to par). His reasoning being that balance is important! Even if Riddle is still learning that himself, he understands that Silver should have time to enjoy his extracirriculars just as much as anyone else. It's a small load to bear for someone he can recognize a strong work ethic and morals in.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

I like to welcome challenges and face them head on, however I did not expect the magic on the doll to be able to simulate an immune system.

Mark Achieved: 75%

Unattended Crying x 5 = 25%

Sebek

This guy doesn't know how to hold a baby, and once he does, he's terrified of hurting it, even though its not real. He also becomes hypervigilant, taking into account every safety risk and trying to prevent it, at least until the kid bites HIM.

He then realizes in horror just how little he actually washes his hands and whatnot, and that this tiny being is ingesting every germ its mouth lands on, which, it aims its mouth indiscriminately at every person, place or thing.

Sebek ends up doing a DEEEEEEP clean of the entire dorm, all while trying to keep baby safe from the dust and whatnot while he cleans.

The dorm has never looked better, but Sebek definitely has. He is exhausted and dirty constantly, and due to his inability to prioritize certain tasks, the baby would sometimes be left in a soiled diaper longer than it was meant to.

Assignment Journal Entry Excerpt

I never realized how much dust cobwebs collect until I saw the top of Diasomnia's chandeliers.

Mark Achieved: 70%

Soiled diaper - 15 minutes + x 4 = 20% Unattended crying x 1 = 5% Minor Damage x 1 = 5%

----------------------------------

"Hello Professor." Idia spoke softly so as to announce his arrival, Ortho in tow, who waved animatedly at the instructor.

The Prof looked up from his marking, offering the Shroud brothers a small smile and waving them in as he got up from his desk.

"It's good to see you. Did you bring the wagon?"

Idia gave the prof a toothy grin as Ortho transformed, his torso region folding out so as to provide cargo room.

"Don't need some dingy wagon anymore. Ortho and I have been optimizing his hardware the whole month in prep for this lmao."

While his back was turned to them, the professor rolled his eyes, flinging the closet open. On the floor were about two boxes of various parts and pieces of dolls, the rest of the in tact ones placed neatly on the shelves above. He moved out of the way so as to allow Idia and Ortho to load up.

"I'm glad you've dedicated some time to preparing for transport. As you know, once you and any other Ignihyde students who opted out of this project have rebuilt, recalibrated and recorded any and all changes made to each doll, you can drop them off here again to be assessed."

Idia began filling the cavity Ortho had , removing some of the parts to compress the boxes better. The things technomancy was capable of was incredible, as every piece managed to fit into the robot's torso.

"Yeah, yeah. I've already updated the SOPs to streamline the whole process, so I should be able to get these back to you in like, three days? We'll say four cuz there are a few newbs joining in. I'd rather take the time to look over their work than get called during some other class to fix a stupid mistake I could have caught earlier on."

Idia shrugged a bit as Ortho closed up, before sparring the instructor a glance, making a conscious effort to look him in the eyes.

"....thank you, by the way. For the mods to the assignment. I really appreciate that you took my request seriously and actually y'know....followed through."

Idia fidgeted with the long sleeves of his sweater a bit before he finally broke eye contact.

The professor let out a small trill of self satisfaction. "Of course, Shroud. I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to reach out and ask for accommodations."

He made his way back to his desk as the boys went to the door.

"Have a good night."

------------------------------------------------

Bro this took so long and its lowkey ASS anyways

Here's an image of the prof, at least how he is in my head, he's based on a Great Horned Owl and this is a poorly edited picrew I did

ANYWAYS tag list:

@distant-velleity @lumdays @elenauaurs @nemisisnemi @theleechyskrunkly @starry-night-rose @my-cursed-brain @fluffle-writes

[vxxxxed]

I'd love to talk about Butcher!Simon. >u<

He's my favorite fucked up special boy. I like to think he has a set of Damascus knives that he keeps perfectly sharp.

Maybe he sees the reader coming in, buying the cheap stuff, barely talking to the cashier, scared when the package bleeds at the edges. He watches for them again, sending the cashier on break so he could talk to them finally.

Maybe they hand him a crumpled wad of bills. He notices the bruises on their arms. So what if the cut of meat he gives them is worth more than they paid? Can't have his shy birdie going hungry.

Maybe they come home one day to him sitting on their couch. Their abusive partner is gone. The tub is a little pink, but that's okay.

Maybe he reassures them through their tears that he's nothing like the meat he cuts up.

[TWs for idek how to tag this, brief implied cannibalism and kinda mentions of how you'd butcher your lover to eat them but it ends there and none of that actually happens and no one's intending for it to you're just talking about it?]

I was gonna say I don't have anything to add to this but if I may go off on a tangent (excerpt from a fic I'm working on), Ghost who is in the 141, left his old life behind (not like he had a choice when it was all taken from him anyway), but he retained all the stuff he learned when he was younger. You see a couple YouTube shorts from hunters explaining how to cut up their kills, and get interested about the process. And maybe that turns into some sort of weird form of intimacy between the two of you. (Alternative working title: Autism be Damned, That Boy Can Meat)

..."Bloody 'ell, watch the pet names there, luv. I might start thinkin' you fancy me or somethin'," he teased, his voice a low rumble that was honestly weirdly satisfying to listen to now that your cheek was pressed to his sternum. "If you wanna learn about cuts a' meat, might as well 'ave a quick lesson. You got a pen and paper there?" He asked dryly, his own form of humour as he rubbed circles against the back of your neck with his thumb.

"Start with the basics, yeah? Prime cuts are gonna be the tenderest, 'cause they come from the least-worked muscles. Ribeye, sirloin, that sorta thing. Gotta keep 'em cold to preserve the fat, though. You let that melt, and you lose flavour."

As he spoke, Simon's hands moved almost unconsciously, mimicking the motions of breaking down a side of beef. His slightly chilly fingers traced invisible lines across your back, mapping out different sections, trying to remember. "Then you got your secondary cuts - brisket, short ribs, that sorta thing. Tougher, but full o' flavour if you cook 'em right. Need time and low heat to break down all that connective tissue."

He hesitated, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to remember more specifics. "Ah, you got your off-cuts too. Offal, bones, all'at. Nothin' goes to waste in a proper butcher shop. Even got some fancy restaurants that'll pay good money for that stuff nowadays." Another pause, "Well, used to, anyway."

---

"Trying to figure out how you'd butcher me, Simon?" You'd giggled at the feeling of his fingertips tracing your ribs, but there was nothing but trust and love in your eyes.

Like his own perfect little lamb.

[ms-spkhd]

been dabbling in omegaverse lately, so congrats, you get an excerpt of one of my WIPs

(tw for period-typical homophobic and ableist language)

Funny. Eddie could have sworn that the padlock on his locker door had been completely intact when he last checked before first period biology. 

Well, he’d hoped, since he changed the little bastard three times since the school year started–some barbarous, degenerate dickheads thought ransacking his locker and painting freak across the walls would really warm the cockles of their sad, commiserable little hearts. But those hopes, puny at most, seem to be dashed the moment he dragged his feet back from his final class of the day and found his locker, visibly padlock-less. Fuck.

Eddie stares vacantly at the door.

Well, it’s not actually funny. The joke never is, anyway, but what’s really funny is that Eddie has absolutely no clue if this whole thing is a joke or not. There’s evidence of funny business, of course, but the door isn’t tagged with fag or spazz or that ever-prevalent freak. He turns his head from left to right, surveying his surroundings, but nobody’s huddled together and snickering behind their hands like he’s the punchline of a school-wide inside joke. The hallway is relatively empty, save for plucky junior Gareth who’s hurrying towards him with his backpack slung around his shoulder and–funnily enough–Harrington, who quickly averts his gaze when Eddie’s eyes fly past him. 

Eddie huffs. So much for a damn Alpha, huh? Can’t even make eye contact with the freak of five years worth of weeks.

“Eddie!” Gareth greets enthusiastically, skidding to a stop next to Eddie, “What’s up, man?”

“Somebody fucked with my locker,” Eddie says blankly and points to the door. “The lock’s gone.”

“Shit, that’s not good.”

“I concur,” Eddie mutters bitterly. “Should I open it?”

Gareth straightens and takes a defensive step away from the locker. “No way,” he insists. “Knowing those guys, they’d put live frogs in your locker.”

‘Those guys’ is too broad of a statement–it could be anybody, considering their steadfast placement at the rock bottom of Hawkins High’s metaphorical feudal system. Now that he thinks about it, with Harrington leaning faux-casually against the lockers and occasionally scratching at his nose, it ought to be the work of the basketball team; no doubt Billy or Jason at the forefront of it all.

There’s a faint stench of anticipation whirling around the air. Dread, Eddie realizes. It smells like…like freshly ground pepper and the dewy forest behind his trailer. Like dead leaves and suburban rot.

“I don’t hear any croaking,” Eddie says, resolving to approach the situation with some natural caution. He swallows a great big breath and opens his locker.

The good news is that there’s no frogs.

The bad news? What he finds instead is fucking confusing.

All four walls are spotless, apart from the tally-marks he scratched into the left wall with a nickel for every detention he’d score, and there isn’t a single textbook, notebook, or balled up wad of graphing paper out of place. But, smack dab in the middle of his locker, nestled between the half-eaten tuna sandwich he’d forgot about last Thursday and a dog-eared copy of Brave New World, is a ziploc baggie of chocolate chip cookies, a black velvet pouch, and a piece of lined paper folded into a neat square.

“Any animal bits?” Gareth asks.

“Worse,” Eddie confirms.

To start, the gifts and the free food aren’t usually a thing. In fact, they’re never a thing because Eddie’s not a hot item in the high school market. He’s nowhere near lukewarm, practically Antarctic, at that. He’s no Ubermensch Alpha, weighed heavy with the stink of fresh blood and ash, nor is he a simpering and sweet-blooded Omega. He’s a Beta, like the other 80% of the high school population. There’s no reverence in the way he’s treated–he isn’t worshipped for his ‘powerful masculinity’ like they would an Alpha, and they definitely wouldn’t idolize or protect him for his honest to goodness high fertility rates.

Eddie is just Eddie. No one would even think to look at him twice if he didn’t decide to scrap his normalcy for the ‘devil-worshipping freak’ shtick. Jocks with inferiority complexes loved him for that. They loved the big red target he painted on his back, how it made them feel powerful, like big tall Alphas that howled into the moon and shifted the tides. But he’s not weak–he knows he’s not weak. He yells and claws and makes a scene; lets them know he has just as much power as them.

But that’s beside the point. No one is kind enough to sneak nice shit into Swirlie-boy Munson’s locker without ransacking it.

Eddie fishes out the pouch from between the cookies and note and examines it carefully, as one does with a bomb or vial of rat poison. As he loosens its tie, the sickly smell of apprehension spikes with his heart rate. 

What he finds only compounds his confusion. 

“It’s a D20,” Eddie tells Gareth, feeling light-headed. Gareth squints at him, his face scrunched like his brain hasn’t caught up with the information yet, which Eddie thinks is fair enough.

The dice is a yellow like sunshine, like a dandelion pinched between his fingers when he was small. It’s beautifully shiny, polished enough for Eddie to nearly see his reflection on its surface. There’s not even a single stain of a fingerprint on it. God, it must be brand new. It’s beautiful.

“Holy shit,” Gareth says, dazed.

“There’s no way,” Eddie breathes out, because the universe couldn’t possibly be this kind to him. There’s gotta be a catch–what if it exploded? What if it’s blackmail? Oh, God, the note.

Eddie fumbles with the pouch and tosses it into Gareth’s hands, who holds it gently in both palms as if he’s nursing an injured mourning dove. Like a bat soaring out of hell with its ass ablaze, Eddie snatches the note out of his locker and almost rips it to shreds in his haste to unfold it.

Dear Eddie,

I know I’m not the best with words, but I need you to know how much I feel towards you. I feel like we’re both on different sides of the track, a real Romeo and Juliet type situation, if you ask me–you’re King of the underdogs. You fight for your friends and the little ones you keep under your wing, and you have no idea how much I admire you for that. I guess you’d call me King of the school, but I hate that title. It’s got a lot of baggage I don’t handle too well, and, well, I’ve never been brave about it. I watch you and I see braveness personified, and I know I never fought for you like you fought for the guys in your corner.

Not just that, you’re beautiful too. Every time you look at me I feel like I shot a three-pointer at the championship game. It feels like a winning move. Those eyes you have, they’re like stars. And, God, your scent is so good. Like ginger and cinnamon behind all that tobacco, I wish I could smell it forever.

I know I’m not the type of guy you’d go for, or the type of guy you even tolerate, but I hope you’ll give me a chance.

Yours, 

S.H.

(Ps. Sorry about the lock, I accidentally broke it trying to jimmy it open like an idiot. I’ll pay for it if you want me to.)

(Pps. Look behind you.)

The first thing Eddie registers is the overwhelming scent of peppercorn swirled together with rain-soaked oakwood. “Time and place?”

Eddie’s eyes widen before he whirls around and almost brains Steve fucking Harrington with the white-knuckled fist clenching his letter. Harrington dodges his swing swiftly, catching Eddie’s hand in his, and smiles expectantly.

Holy shit, holy shit.

Gareth is braced against the locker beside Eddie’s, eyebrows high into his hairline and mouth aghast like a suffocating walleye. His eyes dart back and forth between Eddie and Harrington like the latter is going to swing back and stuff both of them into a locker.

Eddie swallows, feeling ill and cotton-mouthed. He wrestles his hand out of Harrington’s grip, hard enough to almost slam his knuckles back into Harrington’s pretty face again, and shoves the note into his front pocket with a huff. He shoots a glance over at Gareth and gestures at him to find Jeff or Phil with a flick of his head.

Gareth, typical of his dutiful nature, flips Harrington off with both hands and scampers off, sneakers squeaking distantly against the linoleum flooring.

Once Gareth rears the corner, Eddie sets his jaw and squares his shoulders. “My bench behind the school,” he says rigidly. He’s going to set this right. “Now.”

Harrington’s eyebrows scrunch curiously. “What?”

Eddie grabs the lapels of Harrington’s Members Only jacket and yanks him forward with all the force he can. “I said now.”

[queenmuzz]

Ballrooms and Bloodlines

A post Veilguard Rook Ingellvar x Emmrich story excerpt

“You’ve become quite the talk of Nevarra, Lady Ingellvar,” Lord Karppinen says as he smoothly guides her across the floor.  “It’s been quite a few years since we had one of our people reach such renowned status.” “Yes, it’s strange to be compared to Cassandra Pentaghast, even if it’s a high honour.”  She does not feel worthy enough to be associated with that woman that Varric liked to talk about, who wrote romance novels specifically for her enjoyment.

The name seems to irritate the young man, as he does his best to suppress a grimace.  “Pentaghast!” He says, the P sounding like he wants to spit out a wad of mucus.  She was the Right Hand of the Divine, Founder of the New Inquisition, and what does she do with that power?  Goes off and marries a Dwarf.  A DWARF!  Doesn’t even protest when the Inquisitor disbands her organization.  All that power… gone…. And she ruins her family name.” Insulting Lady Cassandra, a risky move. Zea thinks.  She already doesn’t like the man, but out of necessity, she pastes a smile on her face as they continue their dance.

“You, on the other hand, have single-handedly  accomplished so much more than her.” “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, I didn’t do it alone.  I had many friends and allies. I had one of the best Antivan Crows, a brave Grey Warden, (it’s still hard to keep her emotions in check whenever she thinks of Davrin), and of course the eminent Professor Emmrich Volkarin.”

That name brings out a face of  outright disgust.  “Volkarin…  a man who doesn’t know his station in life, deems himself as far too important to be bound by it.  Plays at being a noble, despite being nothing but a commoner.  In fact worse… a butcher’s son.”  It’s the way he says it, the way his voice drips with disdain, as if Emmrich’s father was vermin.  She frowns, and she catches Emmrich’s face from across the ballroom, seeing how concerned he looks.  He must know something is going on.  But she tries to remain diplomatic. “Honestly, I find that to be very noble, to take on such a lowly profession to support your family.  To suffer the social stigma, to bear it willingly for the ones you love, is there not honour in that?”  It is the truth.  She has never had the pleasure of meeting Rupert Volkarin in life, but she knows that he must have been a good man, someone his son emulates to this very day.

Lord Karppinen scoffs,  “You are very naive to think like that, Lady Ingellvar.” “I am not,” she argues back.  “Don’t forget, I am an orphan.  A foundling.  I claim no title nor lineage.  I am no better than that butcher you disparage.”  From the corner of her eye, she sees Emmrich now acting agitated, with Myrna placing a supportive hand on his arm.  The situation is getting out of control, and Emmrich may do something he will regret if he sees that she is being upset by this arrogant noble.

“You are much different.” He responds, his voice now returning back to its honeyed state.  An attempt to ingratiate himself to her.  “You are a founder, a once in an Age person who has the potential to start their own dynasty.  But…” his voice dips deeper, “In order for a dynasty to take root, it must also be grafted with other trees,  those with the pedigree of us nobility.   We are the ones who have fought dragons, after all.”  He’s trying to woo her, to bring her glory and accomplishments over to his household.  But he has no idea how much it has backfired on him. There it is…she sees it now, his weakness.  Nobles and their everlasting love for dragon hunting.  A butcher who carves up meat to feed starving bellies may be considered sacrilegious, but a noble’s taste for killing majestic creatures merely to decorate their halls with apparently is considered virtuous.

“Are you?” she asks sweetly, a true smile now creeping into her face.  “Tell me, Lord Karppinen, how many dragons have you killed?”  The man sputters… looks shocked that she would ask such a question, but she continues. “How many generations has it been since a Karppinen has slain a dragon?  Your father?  Your Grandsire?  Your Great Grandsire?” “This hardly matters…” he protests, but she has him with his back against the wall.

“Because Emmrich Volkarin has personally helped me hunt…” she makes an exaggerated act of calculation, “One… two… three… four… five?  Possibly more, since one of the archdemons had multiple heads… but he has taken down AT LEAST five dragons.  Who is the more noble now?”

He loses his sense of speech and she grins, as she is now the one to lead him across the ballroom floor.  Emmerich seems to have calmed down, reading the situation as not as dire as he thought, but there is a perplexed look on his face.

“Emmrich Volkarin has helped me personally dispatch not only those dragons, but also two ancient elvish gods.  He has broken into one of the most secure prisons ever created, and,” she thinks back to the conversation between Emmrich and Solas in Minrathous on that dark final day,  “he has earned the respect of the Dread Wolf himself.” At any other time, she might feel sorry for the man, the way he splutters, but today, she feels no mercy.  In fact, she feels like she ought to pay him back for his slander of her beloved.  She pulls him in for the kill, and whispers in his ear.

“Let me tell you a secret, my little ducal prince,  you might think you wish to claim me as your own, but I carry the child of the wisest man in all of Thedas in my womb.”

[garchankdefender]

I'm still working on part 2 of All Your Insides, my fic about Vi's injury/their escape from the Warwick/Ambessa/commune battle. So in the meantime, here's an excerpt!

CW: Graphic injury, blood

...

“Vi!” Caitlyn couldn’t stop her gaze from flicking down to the soggy mess of her midsection, and back up to the wide grey eyes staring at her. The tremor in the fine line of Vi’s mouth. The small scar notched in her upper lip.

Jinx dropped to her knees back next to her, the red cloak clutched in her hands. There was no need for words between them as they worked side by side; right now, no matter the past, they were united in this single urgent purpose.

Jinx was breathing hard as she wadded up the fabric. She nodded to Caitlyn.

Cait saw she was ready, and removed her hands.

Jinx pressed her lips together, and slowly pushed the fabric into Vi’s belly.

The reaction was immediate and horrible: Vi’s whole body convulsed, curling in on herself, limbs jerking up as her body reflexively tried to guard itself from further harm. A guttural scream tore itself from her throat. Jinx grimaced but didn’t let up.

It was utterly disturbing to watch. Caitlyn swallowed hard against the bile threatening to rise at the intensity of Vi’s distress. She closed her bloody gloves over Vi’s shoulders, trying to comfort her with her physical presence. (A pang of guilt. What right did she have to put her hands anywhere on Vi’s body? That privilege had been forfeit as soon as she had hit Vi and left her for dead in a sewer. Not the time, she reminded herself.)

She leaned down, taking in Vi’s pallid, sweaty skin and hollow cheeks. “Shh, shhh, I’m here,” she whispered. “We’re here.” Vi was limp again, or nearly limp; her head twisted weakly towards Caitlyn’s voice. “We’re getting you out of here,” Cait told her fiercely, squeezing her shoulder with hands that shook. “Just hold on.”

...

Part 1:

[earth-to-stardust]

The Outsiders brainrot has been hitting extra hard as of late so picking up from my first meta post, let's talk about religion and how it contributes to the theme of being and feeling like an outsider amongst the people you love.

The most overt example from the text is when Ponyboy thinks back to when he used to go to church when him and Johnny found the church on top of Jay Mountain:

I'd been in church before. I used to go all the time, even after Mom and Dad were gone. Then one Sunday I talked Soda into coming with Johnny and me. He didn't want to come unless Steve did, and Two-Bit decided he might as well come too. Dally was sleeping off a hangover, and Darry was working. When Johnny and I went, we sat in the back, trying to get something out of the sermon and avoiding the people, because we weren't dressed so sharp most of the time. Nobody seemed to mind, and Johnny and I really liked to go. But that day… well, Soda can't sit still long enough to enjoy a movie, much less a sermon. It wasn't long before he and Steve and Two-Bit were throwing paper wads at each other and clowning around, and finally Steve dropped a hymn book with a bang--- accidentally, of course. Everyone in the place turned around to look at us, and Johnny and I nearly crawled under the pews. And then Two-Bit waved at them. I hadn't been to church since.

As comical as this excerpt is, this contributes to the outsider narrative and Ponyboy and Johnny have going for them. Out of everyone in the gang, they were the only two that genuinely enjoyed church and made an active effort to attend. The line about them "trying to get something out of the sermon" sticks out to me because it cements the fact that they went to church out of a genuine need for comfort and meaning, not out of an obligation. Ponyboy mentioning that he used to go even after his parents died is just the perfect lead in to this text too. It adds a lot more meaning to their hiding out in the church and takes this theme to another level.

In my last post, I established that Dally's physical appearance contributed a lot to his status as an outsider but I'd like to believe that him being religious, as evident of his St. Christopher necklace, could also be considered as well. The necklace is exclusive to the movie only and it could've just been a small little accessory that Dally wore that attentive viewers would've noticed, but Johnny has a line that directly brings attention to it when he says, "Hey Dal, you got your Christopher back", making it important. Yes, I know that the necklace was given to Sylvia when her and Dally were going together and that the change was probably made because a necklace would've been more memorable than a ring, but the fact that there's clear intent and symbolism with the inclusion St. Christopher tells me that the necklace was never meant to be a plain old necklace. With that one line, we're able to assume that 1) Dally is/was religious and 2) it's a physical aspect we're supposed to remember.

And I find this so fascinating because while Dally's physical appearance attributed outsider status to him in the book, his religion did that in the movie, linking him with both Ponyboy and Johnny who are the two other "visible" outsiders in the story.

Also not to be a tinfoil hat but Johnny and Dally's queer undertones and their outward faith (moreso in Dally's case though) leads me to think about the implications of them being queer Christians, and how queer Christians are some of the best examples of being outsiders within the communities that you love and are a part of

[jessicanjpa]

windsor

Emmett is getting ready for his first date with Rosalie. An excerpt from this 1936 one-shot, Emmett POV.

"Pay attention," Edward ordered.

I was paying attention. Judging by the three footsteps, the squeak, and the swish just now, Rosalie had just crossed from our closet to the upper left hand drawer of her dresser, the one that had the really good underwear. And since the swish sounded silky, but not lacey at all, that narrowed it down to the blue and the pink and the white…

"To me, not to Rosalie's knickers," Edward sighed, twisting my necktie hard enough to kill a human. "Now listen. Up through the loop from underneath…" He jammed his fist into my throat again.

"Watch it," I growled, giving him a shove. He stumbled backwards, taking my neck with him. I reluctantly dragged my eyes away from the hallway in order to land a better punch square on his jaw. Of course he dodged it. Pansy.

"How is it that you're twenty-one years old and you've never learned how to put on a necktie?"

"How is it that I haven't broken your nose in almost two weeks?"

"Fine, do it yourself." He shoved me back, headlong toward Esme's full-length mirror. I screeched to a halt with my nose half an inch from the glass. "Now listen." He grabbed another tie out of Carlisle's wardrobe and threw it around his own scrawny neck, stationing himself back beside me in front of the mirror. "Wide end over small end. Then up through the loop underneath," he began again, tying his own noose as he went. This time I copied him perfectly, just to annoy him.

"Don't be so nervous," he said, already heading out the door.

"Who's nervous?" I muttered, looking back in the mirror and pulling the knot away from my throat again and wiggling in my jacket to try and get another inch out of the sleeves. I looked dumb in brown. "It's only my first date with the most gorgeous woman in the universe."

"Love you, baby," Rosalie purred from our bedroom down the hall, and I heard the swish of silk on marble. Aw, hell… I wondered how long it would take to get out of this necktie.

"Too long," Edward said from downstairs, trilling a scale on his True Love The Piano. "Your reservations are at seven. Get going."

This had been his idea, the traitor. You haven't killed anyone in months, he said. Rosalie's been itching for you to take her out properly, he said. Trust me, I know, he said, doing that idiotic temple-tap thing. I'd been a vampire for six months now, a married man for four. So he was right, I guess: now that I was done accidentally eating the neighbors I really didn't have a decent excuse for not taking my baby out on the town.

I cracked my neck and took one last check in the mirror with my goldish eyes. Hopefully they'd still be that color when we got back home tonight. At least blood didn't show much on a brown jacket; maybe that was why Rose had picked it out. Huh.

I zipped over to our bedroom, but she still had the door locked. Okay, so she wanted to do that down-the-stairs grand entrance thing again. I happily parked myself at the bottom of the staircase, ready to be blown away. The best part was, I always would be.

Always.

"You're going to have a wonderful time," Esme announced with a sparkly smile. She tucked a little flower onto my lapel and a folded hankie into my jacket pocket. I ducked down and pecked her on the cheek.

"I'm ready."

I straightened up just in time to feel my face split with a grin as she floated down the stairs. Rosalie. She was all dolled up in a creamy not-really-white thing, all curls and curves and wisps that wanted to be touched. I watched my angel come down from heaven and then kissed her hand, inside her elbow, her shoulder, up the side of her neck. She shivered, staring up at me with those eyes.

"All right, all right," Carlisle chuckled, giving my shoulder a push toward the door. He slipped a wad of cash into my hand. "Have fun, you two."

He sounded a little nervous himself. Man, I really hoped my eyes were still golden when we got back tonight. My new dad might only be three years older than me, but I still didn't like to let him down. And everyone was getting a little tired of moving.

Carlisle and Esme waved us off from the porch and stayed there while Rosalie drove us off. "I'll drive us one of these days," I offered, trailing a finger along her neckline.

"Mmm," she answered. Was that a "Take my clothes off" mmm or a "Fat chance, you're never touching my car keys" mmm? Women were so mysterious. You'd think a married man would have cracked the code, but you'd think wrong.

We were in town all too soon. I was taking Rosalie—or I guess she was taking me—to one of those fancy restaurants whose name I couldn't even pronounce. Because obviously that's what vampires do for their first date, right? No, because if there was one thing I knew about my wife it was that she liked to play human, and she liked to do it in style. You couldn't get more stylish-human than a night of fancy dinner and dancing. And I had been at school for a while now, so I was getting to be a pro at making a meal look half-eaten.

"Stay put," I told her, getting out as soon as we parked. I went around and opened her door, earning a quick smile before she stood up and lit up.

It was like a miracle. Every time we got out of the car in public it happened. She would stand up tall and it was like all those grudges and demons just rolled off her. As soon as I got more confident (and hopefully got permission to touch the car keys) I would take her out every night I could, just to see it.

[giraffeter]

WiP Word Train!

Rules: tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share a sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with that letter.

I was tagged by @dangerouscommiesubversive, who gave me the word SNAKE.

S — Song Lan opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, Xiao Xingchen rasps, “You’re right, we should have a funeral,” and that settles it. (Modern-day haunting AU in which Mo Xuanyu’s body is possessed by the ghost of the Yiling Patriarch)

N — Nampheung accepts the sweaty wad of bills with a frown, taking in Porsche’s bruised cheekbone, his bleeding lip, the deliberate way he’s walking. All she says is, “Be careful — if you get arrested, they’ll find us.” (Kinnporsche AU where Nampheung takes the boys and runs instead of getting atticwifed)

A — Any story White might have told himself about Gumpa sorting Sean out with pushups or laps to run evaporates, replaced by the mental image of Sean bent over like Gram had been, of Gumpa’s hands on his bare skin, the smack of flesh against flesh. (Worth Your Time, the Not Me postcanon spanking fic)

K — Kwang has booked them a room with two beds, but as usual that just means that one bed has become a de facto clothing storage/outfit staging area, littered with Off and Gun’s luggage and shopping bags and hair products. (The Beluca OT4 birthday fic)

E — “Eventually Han Ying will figure out he doesn’t owe me anything, and then he’ll get on with his life,” Zhou Zishu says. (Every Bait and Switch, the HanWenZhou heist fic)

To pass things on, I will offer the word WRIST and tag @ghost--houses, @fanonplussed, @phneltwrites, @ginnymoonbeam, and @goblinmatriarch, as well as YOU if you want to play!

[zerokurokawa]

If I Was a Rich Girl: Haitani Brothers x OC's

Synopsis: After experiencing the Bloody Halloween fight and taking interest in Zoe and Valerie, the Haitani brothers decide to take them out on a well needed shopping spree.

brief mentions of bajixOC (Valerie), SFW

this is an excerpt from my sequel to REVERSE. The fic is called IN TIME by @zerokurokawa on Wattpad if anybody would like to check it out. It takes place during the Tenjiku timeline.

Rich Girl  by Gwen Stefani blared on the radio as we went to meet Rindou and Ran at a store in Roppongi. 

"SEE I'D HAVE ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD, IF I WAS A WEALTHY GIIRRRLLLLLL," Zoe and I danced and sang along as she drove into the parking lot. Zoe put the car in park and we immediately saw the brothers get out of their white BMW. It was a nicer model; even had a Bluetooth stereo system. 

Rindou came up to me first, wearing a designer hoodie and some nice jeans with white sneakers. Oddly enough, he didn't have his glasses on and wore a silver chain around his neck. Ran was suited up in a designer sweatsuit as he walked over to Zoe, embracing her in a one armed hug. 

I had brought enough money to buy a few things if I absolutely had to have them. I had no idea what to expect with these guys, and was caught off guard by the store we had walked into. The store was very classy, elegant almost, and most definitely not what Zoe and I were used to. Designer bags, clothes, jewelry, and shoes lined the walls and the floor. I looked at one of the price tags of a purse and it read over 50,000 yen, the equivalent to about $320. Needless to say, I put that purse down very quickly. 

"You like that?" I heard Rindou come up behind me and ask. 

"It's a little out of my price range," I laughed, "I wouldn't dare carry this around in fear of being robbed." 

"You wouldn't have to worry about that much, especially if it's known that you both are with us." He said confidently. I looked at him and smiled. Was he really insinuating that he would protect us simply with his reputation? Maybe I was underestimating the power of the Haitani brothers to begin with though. 

I walked over to the dress section to see a black mini dress with thin straps in my size. It had what looked like glitter sprayed all over it, giving it a glimmering look as it shined in the light of the store. This would look great on me, I thought. I checked the price tag - 90,000 yen = $575. Absolutely not, I wouldn't even dare to try this on. 

"Try it on." Rindou smiled as he took it off the rack. I shook my head no and went to walk away. He grabbed me softly by the wrist and said, "I bet it'll look stunning on you." 

I finally agreed to try on the dress and stepped out of the dressing room. Rindou turned and stared at me with a smirk on his face. 

"Beautiful. You have to get it, wear it to our next party!" He said as he came up to me. 

"I uh, can't afford this, Rindou." I smiled sheepishly. 

"I can. I said I was going to treat you today, didn't I?" I turned to look at the floor as he stepped over closer to me. I noted our height difference. It wasn't much, but he was more built than Baji was. He could probably pick me up and throw me across the parking lot if he wanted.

"I can't allow you to pay for this, Rin." He smirked at the nickname I gave him. I went back into the changing room, not before snapping a quick, but cute selfie in the mirror, and changed. I brought the dress back out and he immediately took it from me. 

"Now, what are you gonna do? Come snatch it from me?" He smirked. He was a master at flirting. 

"Rindou, please, don't..." I was laughing and blushing at the same time as I was trying to grab the dress back from him and put it on the rack. That's when he walked away to the register and I saw him pull out a wad of cash. He paid for the dress and handed me the bag. 

"Rindou!" I exclaimed, "What the hell! That was like, 90,000 yen!" 

"I'm aware, I paid for it." He smiled and tugged on my shirt, pulling me closer. I didn't know how to feel but happy and a little nervous at the same time. He was older, hot, rich, strong, and yet, I still felt an insane guilt come over me. 

I shoved the thoughts away as he looked me dead in the face and asked, "Are you going to be okay or do I need to take you home?" I tilted my head in response. I thought that maybe he should just take me home, but I didn't want to disappoint him after he just spent so much money on a dress just for me to wear to a party I wasn't sure I'd even be able to go to. 

"I'm fine..." I lied through my teeth. I wasn't fine. The constant reminder of Baji kept flooding my head as I continued to subconsciously flirt with Rindou. He was inches away at this point, towering over me. 

"Are you sure? We can leave if you-" I interrupted him. 

"I promise, I'm okay." I smiled a bright smile. I thanked him by doing something I never knew I had the courage to do - by kissing him on the cheek. I instantly felt the grueling coldness of guilt slide over my brain as I pulled back. He looked at me in shock, but then smiled and put his hands on my waist and leaned in to my ear. 

"I'll buy you the entire world." He whispered. Our moment was quickly ended as Zoe and Ran walked up with loads of stuff ranging from shoes to skirts and handbags. In total, Ran spent about 200,000 yen on Zoe alone, once again, the equivalent to about $1200. Zoe had no shame, but at the same time, she really liked Ran and had spent a lot of time getting to know him. 

We walked out of the store - I had one singular bag that Rindou held for me and Zoe had multiple bags that Ran held for her. Who knew that these big, tough, scary brothers were also soft, sweet, and gentlemanly. 

[l-u-c-i-i-e]

La part du Roi.

When I ask to the King who he is and why, he answers "my people". When I tell the King that I will return what belongs to him, he does not answer "thank you" but once again "my people". Long Live to the King !

" What a hapiness this must have been 70 or 80 years ago and upwards, to those chosen few who had the good luck to be born (...) when the whole earth was so overrun with ghosts, boggles, bloody-bones, spirits, demons, ignis fatui, brownies, bugbears, black dogs, spectres, shellycoats, scarecrows, witches, wizards, barguests, Robin-Goodfellows, hags, night-bats, scrags, breaknecks, fantasms, hobgoblins, hobhoulards, boggy-boes, dobbies, hobthrusts, fetches, kelpies, warlocks, mocl-beggars, mum-pokers, Jemmy-burties, urchins, satyrs, pans, fauns, sirens, tritons, centaurs, calcars, nymphs, imps, incubusses, spoorns, men-in-the-oak, hell-wains, fire-drakes, kit-a-can-sticks, Tom-tumblers, mech-dicks, larrs, kitty-witches, hobbly-lanthorns, Dick-a-Tuesday, Elf-fires, Gylburnt-tails, knockers, elves, raw-heads, Meg-with-the-wads, old-shocks, ouphs, pad-foots, pixies, pictrees, giants, dwafs, Tom-pokers, tutgots, snapdragons, sprets, spunks, conjurers, thurses, spurns, tantarrabobos, swaithes, tints, tod-lowries, Jack-in-the-Wads, momos, changelings, redcaps, yeth-hounds, colt-pixies, Tom-thumbs, black-bugs, boggarts, scar-bugs, shag-foals, hodge-pochers, hob-thrushes, bugs, bull-beggars, bygorns, bolls, caddies, bomen, brags, wraithes, waffs, flay-boggarts, fiends, gallytrots, imps, gytrashes, patches, hob and lanthorns, gringes, boguests, bonelesses, Peg-powlers, pucks fays, kidnappers, gally-beggars, hydskins, nickers, madcapas, trolls robinets, friars ' lanthorns, silkies, cauld-lads, death-heearses, goblins, hob-headlesses, buggaboes, kows, or cowes, nickies, nacks, necks, waiths, miffies, buckies, gholes, sylphs, guests, swarths, freiths, freits, gy-carlins, pigmies, chittifaces, nixies, jinny-burnt-tails, dudmn, hell-hounds, dopple-gangers, boggleboes, bogies, redmen, portunes, grants, hobbits, hobgoblins, brown-men, cowies, dunnies, wirrikows, alholdes, mannikins, follets, korreds, lubberkins, cluricauns, kobolds, leprechauns, kors, mares, korreds, puckles, korigans, sylvans, succubuses, black-men, shadows, banshees, lianhanshees, clabbernappers, Gabriel-hounds, mawkins, doubles, corpse lights, scrats, mahounds, trows, gnomes, sprites, fates, fiends, sybils, nick-nevins, whitewomen, fairies, thrummy-caps, curties, and nisses, and apparitions of every shape, make, form, fashion, kind and description..."

-- Excerpt from K.M Briggs, who herself quotes an obscure folklorist in her Dictionary of Fa*ries. + merci mon ami @sensu-stricto encore une fois!!!

[sanguinarysanguinity]

@chiropteracupola posted art of Alison Grant with Keith's blood on her face and hands, and invited us to fic about it.

This is... not that fic? But it is an excerpt from a WIP in which Alison Grant is wrist-deep in Keith's blood...

Longish, so after the read-more:

~

Alison sprang to unbar the door. Without, she found her husband and one of his gillies carrying a third man between them, Ewen at the man's shoulders and the gillie at his feet. Ewen's expression was tight with anxiety; the unconscious man's head lolled slackly, his face turned away from her.

"Gracious!" Alison exclaimed, and stood back to swing the door wide.

"On the bed," Ewen directed his companion, and they staggered to the bed with their burden. "Now run and fetch a surgeon, if you please. Quickly now!" Ewen's hands were red with blood.

Alison had by now laid aside her book and come around to the other side of the bed. "Where is he injured?" she asked, even as she felt the man for his wound. More quickly than Ewen could answer, she found the spreading wetness at the man's side; in a moment her fingers were red with blood, too. She began opening the man's clothing. "Fetch me my other petticoat out of-- yes, there."

By the time she had revealed the wound, Ewen had already begun shredding her petticoat; he pressed a length of fabric into her hand. The wound was bleeding freely, and she had to wipe away the blood to see it clearly. A deep puncture wound, longer than it was wide. "He's been stabbed!"

"Aye, stabbed. The villains took to their heels before I could reach him."

Blood obscured the wound again in the time it had taken Ewen to speak. Alison folded the cloth in her hand and pressed it firmly to the wound. "Who is he? Where did you find him?"

Ewen looked at her in surprise. "Why, 'tis Major Windham. Do you not know him?"

"Major--?" For the first time, she turned to examine the stricken man's face, for it had not occurred to her that he could be other than a stranger. She had not seen Major Windham in six years, not since he had been a captain and her husband's prisoner. She did not remember his face well, and his waxy complexion made recognition even more difficult, but she could believe this was the same man. In any case, she did not doubt her husband. "Major Windham," she said in wonder. "Is he posted at Fort George? But he's not wearing his uniform."

Ewen shook his head. "The Royals are in Ireland. I wrote when we returned, but had no reply to my letter. I do not know why he's in Inverness. But whatever the reason, it is not for his health. Here, that is nearly soaked through." He pressed another wadded length of petticoat over that which she already held to the wound, and she replaced her hands over both. "Oh, where is that surgeon?" he cried, going to the door.

"I can stay with him, if you wish to fetch him yourself," Alison offered.

Ewen hesitated, visibly torn, before returning to her side. "I will not leave you alone. Domnhall dubh is a capable man. If there is a surgeon to be found, he will find him."

But in another moment he returned to the door, and again stood looking out. He paced for a moment, and Alison was not entirely surprised when he said,  "I will just run down to the street, and see if they are coming," and disappeared.

He was gone no short while. In his absence, the breathless urgency of the moment turned to agonising gravity, as living flesh rose and fell beneath her hands.

"Major Windham," she sternly addressed the man lying senseless. "My husband will be much distressed if you die here. We owe you his life, and this is not how we wish to repay it."

The injured man did not reply.

[iwriteasfotini]

The Heir and The Spare Dialogue Excerpt (288 words)

First Year, Sirius POV, Chapter VI - Movers and Shakers

...

“Thanks Sirius,” he said. “You are a good teacher when you aren’t trying to show off.”

“Careful Lupin, you know compliments only inflate my ego,” Sirius reached out and ruffled Remus’ hair. 

“I’m not sure your ego can get any bigger Black, it can barely fit through the door as it is,” Remus replied. 

“Don’t be a wanker!” Sirius laughed and shoved Remus, who lost his balance in the dark room and fell on the ground. He quickly dropped his wand, which rolled away, still alight and grabbed Sirius’ ankles, pulling him to the ground as well. 

“Hey! That’s not fair,” protested Sirius, trying to loosen Remus’ grip on his feet. He gave up and went for Remus’ mid-section, tickling him so he squealed out a laugh and released Sirius who quickly knocked Remus onto his back and climbed on top of him. But Remus was prepared for this and he flipped Sirius so fast, Sirius let out a gasp as the air was knocked from his lungs. 

Peter was cracking up near his bed, watching what he could see of their wrestling match.

Remus sat astride Sirius’ hips, “I’m gonna spit in your face! I’m gonna do it!”

“NO!!!” Sirius shrieked. “Ahhh, gross, gross, gross.” He tried to push Remus off him, but Remus was way stronger than he looked. 

“Hhhaaauckkkk!” Sirius was truly panicking now. Remus was going to drop a massive spit wad on his face!

Sirius bucked and kicked and Remus pinned his arms down, face inches from Sirius’. 

The door opened suddenly and James’ voice said, “what’s going on in here?”

“He’s going to spit on me, help! He’s going to spit on me!” exclaimed Sirius. 

Remus swallowed loudly, then moved off Sirius.

...

I am prepping dialogue and scene excerpts to accompany the publishing of this work (which will begin daily posting on Ao3 on October 31 BTW!) and I couldn't resist sharing a runner up.

Subtextual Wolfstar anyone? This work is positively dripping in it and it makes me so happy!

Learn More!

[acanthawrites]

Muse

Chapter 6

! Do not repost art !! It is by my talented friend Beany

Main pairing: Sasuke x Naruto

Genre: NaruSasu, Lemon, Slice of life, AU, University Students, London UK

Rating: 18+ / Mature

Summary:

The person who had told him relationships were simple should be taken out and shot as far as Sasuke was concerned. He'd never been so stressed in his life, it was like bringing order to chaos.

Excerpt:

“Completely anecdotal evidence,” Naruto said mid rigorous shake, “but I had a Neurology Prof. who once told me the cure for headaches was flat coke and Aspirin.”

He chucked a small wad of 300mg Aspirin onto Sasuke’s lap and continued to shake the bottle. Sasuke frowned, the tablet looked like a horse pill.

“You want me to take this?” He asked suspiciously.

Naruto set down the coke bottle and sent Sasuke an amused look.

“Or don’t and just suffer.”

“Hn.” Sasuke began to peel back the silver foil covering one of the tablets feeling slightly dubious.

“Before you do that though.” Naruto moved over to the side of the bed, pulling a chocolate out of the box and pushing it against Sasuke’s lips. He was so surprised he opened his mouth, tasting for a brief moment the salt from Naruto’s finger tips and then the sweetness of the chocolate. He blinked with surprise and then frowned to bite into a chocolate cream, his least favourite.

[screamingmandrakes]

Trick or treat?

Ooooh this is my first time doing this. My friend just said i can give you snippets as a treat?? Idk I’m slow about this.

Here’s an excerpt from a WIP second “chapter” of my fic, Happy House. It’s from Tom’s POV, he’s ten. Weird and obsessive as always.

“I do hope you remember these moments when you’re older,” Hermione murmurs. Her voice vibrates as a hum in her chest. Tom untucks his face from her neck, shifting so his ear presses firm against her chest. Her heartbeat is surprisingly gentle, pattering with a steady rhythmic thump.

“I won’t have to. I’ll be with you.” Tom states. Not a question. Just a fact.

Hermione’s breath hitches in a soft, sad laugh, her body shaking with the movement. She slips a hand to cradle the back of his head, her nails carding through the thick curls to slowly scratch at his scalp.

“One day, you’re going to have a life without me,” Hermione says. She sounds distant when she speaks, but intentional. As if she’s heavily considered this. Tom’s teeth clack together, jaw wound tight. No, he won’t. She doesn’t get to leave him. That’s not how that works—she picked him! She chose him over all of the other children, and she wants him to go without her?

“One day,” she says quietly, her voice softening as if she’s lost in her own thoughts. She’s not really speaking to him anymore, but he listens anyway. “One day, you’ll grow up, alright? And when you do—well, who knows? You might meet someone lovely. Settle down. Perhaps even have children.”

There’s a wistful note in her voice as she says it, as if she’s imagining a life far from this moment. Something untouchable.

“You won’t need me anymore.”

Tom’s teeth clink as his mouth snaps shut. His lip curls into a soundless snarl, and the grip on her shirt tightens. He must hurt her when she does this, as she winces, but his feelings dominate any concern he has about it. He should let go, but he can’t, even as he feels his nails piercing her skin. This is far too much rage for a boy his age—even if he is a big boy like his mother says. His rage is a self-imposed immolation, traveling from the strain in his jaw to the tightly wadded fists clutching her shirt, burning hot and destructive beneath his skin. The tremor in his hands is something he’s experienced only once before, when Hermione scolded him for murdering Billy’s rabbit, disappointing her for the first time.

“No,” He tells her.

The heartbeat thudding in his ear misses a beat. Hermione tenses. His rebuttal is as simple as one comes—no—but his voice is wound tight with precarious emotion. Wound so tight he might break, like a rubber band stretched between fingers, always teetering on the brink of snapping back at him. But this time, it’s directed at his mother, and if it breaks, it’s going to hurt her.

His mother isn’t a rabbit. He has no desire to mar her white fur.

“No?” Hermione repeats in an odd tone.

[whatiwishfanfiction]

Chapter 8 is up!

EXCERPT:

He'd finally become such a joke to the townsfolk, it seemed they'd entirely forgotten he was human.

Instead of just tomatoes, the grocer volunteered wheelbarrows of spoiled produce that some teenagers mixed with glass and rocks. A particularly well aimed stone knocked out a tooth as he was belting out his favorite jingle:

"The Thneed is good, the Thneed is grea—YOW!"

Once-ler usually didn't stop for anything, but the taste of blood made him drop his guitar on his foot. This hurt even worse, so he sprang up and down. The guitar bounced onto the concrete while the crowd laughed and cheered.

Once-ler didn't get a chance to see if the instrument had broken, because, in a fit of enthusiasm, the mean little girl with red hair ensured this was the case. She smashed it on the ground with the second worst noise Once-ler had ever heard.

A tomato landed in his stunned face, but he didn't even feel it. He just watched open-mouthed as fruits and vegetables pelted him and the girl stomped on the pieces, giggling with her parents who stood back and watched.

"Alright, sweetie, that's enough, we have to get to Grandma's house," the mother finally told her. She smiled and pulled out a big bag of chocolate-coated pretzels for her daughter as they walked away.

Once-ler's last shred of optimism finally evaporated. After his father had passed away, the guitar had been the only good memory he'd had from home.

"THAT'S IT!" he roared. "I've had enough!" He stormed from the gazebo with tears in his eyes.

Only the baker looked slightly sympathetic. She twisted a strand of curly brown hair around her finger as he strode past.

"Is this really the way to treat a stranger?!" he heard her yell at the grocer.

"Oh, come on, Norma, he's just a self-centered out-of-towner." The grocer sounded slightly abashed.

Once-ler turned to see Norma stomp her foot. "I know he is, and I know that piece of junk he's selling looks like a wadded up piece of bubblegum with hairs stuck in it, but you just gotta understand! Homeless mentally ill folks need to be shown charity..."

Her words just infuriated Once-ler more. "My family was right. I quit!" He ripped the Thneed from his neck, and accidentally whipped the baker in the face as he threw it away. It knocked off her glasses, which fell to the ground and shattered. Oops.

He walked away faster. Luckily his long legs took him back to the forest before anyone could call the police.