#(i consider that totally canon and real thank you)

[rystiel]

can’t wait for 15 to have a male love interest and everyone who was excited for RTD to come back and end Doctor Woke can get pissed off that their nostalgia led them wrong (they will undoubtedly start calling the show dead again)

[hellvcifer]

ANGEL SUPPORT SERVICES— ଘ part 2┆part 1

pairing :: lucifer x fem!angel!reader, slight adam x fem!angel!reader wc :: 5.1k note :: I did not realize this was gonna be over 5k... BUT !! thank you for the love and support on part 1 !! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა warnings :: canon typical language

ONE YEAR AGO

“If it isn’t the sweetest ASS in all of Heaven.” A familiar voice rang out, the breeze of flapping wings flushed around you before someone landed on the balcony of your office. “Sup hot stuff.”

“Adam, I really don’t have time for this right now.” You shuffled through some more papers, not even looking at him.

He strutted closer, placing a drink next to you on one of your filing cabinets. “Woah, what’s got your titties in a twist.” 

“The meeting we have with Hell in an hour.” You huffed. “I still have to drop the paperwork off at headquarters and then run a file, that I can’t seem to find, to Analytics before then.”

“Oh, yeah. What a bitch.” He slurped his drink through the straw of his own cup.

Your eyes narrowed at him, tilting your head upward. “You’re the one that got it assigned to me in the first place.” You spoke flatley.

He gulped the liquid down before laughing. “Shit! Did I? Can’t say I never do nothing for you.” He stretched, releasing a heavy exhale in relief. “What do you say after we deal with these cunts downstairs, we meet up after. Take a load off. Chillaxe.” 

“And why would we do that?” You had already turned back to the files you were going through, doing your best to pay him no mind.

“Uh, because I fucking rock.” He threw up the notorious sign with his empty hand. You had finally found the papers you were looking for before registering his words.

You paused. “Are you…” Straightening your posture, you turned towards Adam seeing him stare down at you. His eyes were wide, as if he was nervously awaiting your answer. “Are you asking me out?” 

“HA! Your words, not mine, Babe.” His demeanor switched quickly. You rolled your eyes, closing the filing cabinet before walking out of your office. He tensed, grabbing the extra drink he got and going after you. “Damn, calm down! Okay, if I were asking you out, you’d totally say yes then, right?”

You turned towards Adam. “Oh, yeah~ Sure!” A smile graced your lips though nothing about it was real as your face immediately fell. “If you were asking me out.” You pointedly spoke before facing forward again.

“Okay, then I’m asking you out.” His words made you freeze, eyes widening. 

“What?” You swiveled to stare at him, now realizing he wasn’t joking. “Why?”

“Cuz you’re hot as shit.” He said instantly. “And so am I. Come on, who wouldn’t want to get it on with the original dick, am I right?” He laughed loudly before calming once again. “I’m so right.”

“Right…” You began walking once more, him following quickly though he did his best to do so indifferently. You stopped in front of the elevator before hitting the button to call for it.

“So, what d’you say hot tits, you down?” He held out the extra drink for you, shaking it as an offering. You stared at it wearily before slowly taking it. To be honest, you never really thought Adam would ever ask you out. Not to mention, he's the ultimate dickmaster that you can’t stand ninety percent of the time. It wouldn’t hurt to actually go on a date considering it's been… A while, since you had done so. As much as you could just say ‘Fuck it,’ and agree to it, there’s one rule you can’t seem to put behind you, even for the first man. 

A loud ding drew your attention, the doors opening in front of you. Adam was nearly bursting, impatiently awaiting your response as he stared down at you. 

“I uh… I don’t date coworkers.” You stepped into the elevator and turned, cautiously looking up at him. His brows dipped, eyes filled with shock at your answer, crossed with a glitching phase of his mask. It all soon changed to anger.

“Yeah, whatever, bitch!” He flipped you off, in between the gap of the closing doors. “Didn’t want to tap that uptight ass anyways.” 

His response wasn’t a surprise, but that expression he had. It wasn’t like something you’d seen on him before. He was always confident, flying around Heaven with the biggest ego you’d ever seen. But just then, he’d seemed like your words had actually affected him. 

You mulled over it a moment before taking a deep breath and sipping from the drink in your hand. Your eyes widened when the flavors coated your tongue before swallowing. Your favorite drink from the cafe you frequented. You hummed with a soft smile before taking another sip. Maybe dating a coworker would be that terrible. 

After completing all of your tasks, you finally made your way back to the office. Thoughts fading back to your interaction with Adam before you left earlier. Had he really been into you in a way that was more than just putting you at the butt of a joke? Perhaps, he was just doing it to rile you up before the meeting with Hell. Speaking of…

You noted the time on the clock sitting on your desk, a fluttering feeling crawled across your stomach. Your eyes followed the slow moving line in its circling motion. Less than five minutes. Just a little longer. A smile broke onto your lips. How long has it been since you last saw him?

You sighed, arm bending to rest your cheek into your hand. You melted the weight into it. Over the past few years, he had been going through a lot but you slowly witnessed him overcoming the darkness he faced. He began making his dorky jokes and even flashing his devilish smile again.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“No one!” You jumped at the voice, glancing in the direction of it and seeing Emily standing in the entrance of your office. Her brows shot up at your reaction. “Em!” You cleared your throat. “Um, hi! I uh–” You grabbed some papers and straightened them, clacking the stack a few times on the surface. “I have my meeting downstairs soon.”

“Yes!” She waltzed in happily. “That’s actually why I’m here!” She now stood at the front of your desk. “I wanted to wish you luck! You always seem so busy around this time of the year, and somehow you always seem your happiest!” 

Your eyes widened. “Uh, I do?”

“Yeah. I just admire how much compassion you have for being one of Heaven’s main connections to Hell!” She grinned brightly.

“Oh, uh.” You turned away, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Thanks, Em.” 

“You’ll tell me everything when you come back, right?”

You smiled at her. “Of course.” You stood, noting the time was seconds away. “We’ll do it over tea.”

She bounced happily, hands clapping together as she did. “Yay!”

You appeared in front of your desk at the Embassy, a certain blonde haired man was in front of you with a nervous smile. Immediately you returned it upon seeing him, your breath hitched before finally returning to speak one word. “Lucifer.” 

“Y/N.” He all but melted at the sound of his name, using his cane to hold his upper body weight before clearing his throat. “Uh, Hi. Hello. H-How are you?” He pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“Oh, another year gone. Though it’s always nice to see you again.” You brought out the sign-in scroll and feather pen. “It seems once a year really isn’t enough time for us to chat, don’t you think.”

“Y-Yeah. Ha ha! Agreed!” His fingers brushed against yours as he took the pen. His rose cheeks heated as he began signing his name. “You look…” He dotted the ‘I’ of his name. Glancing up to see you smiling down at him. Beautiful. He straightened up again. “G-Great!” 

You giggled. “You’re not half bad yourself.” The two items disappeared in a flash of gold petals. The door to your right opened. It was nearly routine at this point. His eyes flickered between it and you. 

“I’ll uh,” He pointed with his cane before glancing stiffly. “I’ll just uh, get going now.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” Your eyes never left his departing figure. The crisp white suit draped over his shoulders nicely. Hair flicking out from underneath his hat in a bouncy quaff with each step. You felt it again, the stir behind your navel. A shuddering breath filled your lungs before releasing once more. Just seeing him made coming down here worth it.

And although you observed him, you didn’t notice the very details that had the man nearly throwing up in the lobby. He was sweating, feeling drenched in it as he slowly took each step towards the conference room door. He could do this. He already talked himself up about it! He’s ready for this! 

He took a deep breath, exhaling sharply through his nose. His posture straightened and he nodded to himself. “Y/N!” He turned around, as he called your name, a bit louder than he meant to. You looked up. Eyes meeting and he nearly forgot what he was going to say. “Uh…” Okay he forgot everything he was going to say. “Um. Well,” He averted his stare, finding something else to reacquaint his thoughts with his mouth. “So, I know it's been awhile, and we’ve. Well what I mean is. You and I, together…” His eyes widened, “Not! Together! I just mean, we’ve met, and have for sometime now and it’d be nice to be together–” His hands frantically waved about trying to explain his point. “Not like that, I just mean, to sit down together and talk, but like um, maybe with some food, or like uh…” 

“Dinner?” You questioned, trying to figure out exactly what he was saying. It felt like deciphering code.

“Yes!” A lightbulb went off in his head as he pointed at you, face filling with excitement. “Us and dinner!” He finally seemed to find his bearings. “Would you like to join me… For dinner?” Lucifer was nervous, sure, but he also spent way too much time talking to himself in the mirror, hyping himself up for this very moment, just to let it go by for a whole year again. 

You simply stared, mouth opening in shock. The fluttery feeling in your stomach from before crawled up into your throat as you replayed his words. He wants to have dinner? With you? You smiled, and brightly, too. He noticed and felt confidence surge through him. Why did this make you so happy? To eat dinner with the only person to make you feel like this. 

“I would love to!” To eat dinner with Lucifer… Lucifer. Your once joyful feeling began to fade away. What would he say… Smile faltering. A heavy liquid filling your lungs as you try to gulp it down. To find a clean breath for some sort of release. “I just…” You glanced away, seeing Lucifer’s expression begin to mimic your own. “I just don’t think… It could work.” You explained. “With me being up there and you… down here.” Your eyes stung, not meeting with him.

He felt a piercing clutch within his chest. Head downturned and eyes shut in defeat. “Right.”

─── ⋆⋅

“I don’t understand why it’s not working. Think Charlie, think! Think, think, think, think, think…” Charlie mumbled while pacing her thought-board. The residents of her hotel watched, each with their own expressions. Mostly worried, though Niffty seemed excited.

Angel stepped closer, “Yikes.” He held two of his hands up, the other two placed on his hips as he leaned forward. Husk was pouring a morning drink–if you could call whiskey that–into his mug as he watched the chaos unfold.

“We do trust falls every morning… We talked about our dreams and goals…” The mumbling from the princess continued. “Come on, come on, come on!” She moved another red string across the board.

“Charlie?” Vaggie spoke up. “Sweetie… You, uh, you good?”

Said girl turned, “Nope, no! Not really! Ha Ha!” Her eyes were noticeably red and veined and she shifted through some more of her papers. “I’ve been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn’t working!” The last word was forced out with a little bit of irritation as she scrunched the paper she held. “We’ve done trust falls. We’ve tried sharing our feelings. We only have a couple months left before the angels come.” A maniacal laughter released from her, horns appearing briefly. “And at this rate–”

“Maybe it’s time–” 

“No!” Charlie cut her girlfriend off.

“–to ask–”

Charlie ran up to Vaggie, squishing the girl's cheeks. “Don’t! Say it!” Her eyes were viciously wide as she begged.

“–your dad.” The princess released a guttural groan, her head deflating along with her entire body at those words. “Charlie, I know you don’t want to, but we need every advantage we can get.”

“He let the extermination happen to begin with! They just had a meeting at the Embassy and said, ‘Go ahead and kill everyone!’” Charlie inhaled deeply, a gasp insinuated a brilliant idea entered her mind. She turned towards her thought-board. “That’s it!”

“Kill everyone?” Vaggie asked.

“No!” She turned back. “A meeting with Heaven!”

“Didn’t we already try that?”

“Well, yeah… With Adam. He was an ass~hole. But he isn’t in charge of all of Heaven. We could go to the top!” She pointed to the sky. “There’s sure to be some angels who will listen.” 

“And how do we do that?” Vaggie asked. 

“Well… I guess we could ask my dad…” Charlie whipped out her phone, scrolling through her contacts before reaching ‘Dad.’ She stared at it, finger hovering with hesitation.

“What’s the holdup?” Husk asked. “You got daddy issues?” He inquired, causing Vaggie to glare at him.

“No!” Charlie hid her phone. “We just… Have never been close.” She walked a few steps away, bringing her phone back out to stare at it. “After he and Mom split, he never really wanted to see me. He calls… Sometimes. But only if he’s bored or like, needs me to do something. It got better for a bit but this past year has been super bad. And weird.”

Husk smirked. “Daddy issues.” He muttered towards the others.

“Okay, well, if you can’t call the big dick in charge, then who?” Angel leaned over the back of the couch.

Charlie thought for a moment, recalling the Embassy, her meeting with Adam, and how it went horribly wrong and… You. You!

“That’s it!” She put her phone away, grabbing her jacket from the floor before putting it on. She began brushing her fingers through her messy hair, trying to flatten out the stray piece. 

“Woah! Woah, what?” Vaggie came closer and tried to calm her down while also helping to fix the blonde’s hair.

“The Embassy!” Charlie bounced in place. “We have to go to the Embassy! There’s someone I know who can help! Come on!” She grabbed Vaggie’s wrist and bolted out the doors and through the streets of the pride ring. 

With the pace Charlie set, dragging her girlfriend along, it didn’t take very long to arrive at the Embassy. The architecture of it stood out from all the other buildings in the city. Vaggie took one look at it and groaned to herself. The princess slammed the front door open and strutted inside, having let go of Vaggie. Her arms swayed confidently down the aisle, eyes set on a certain golden bell.

“Uh, Charlie?” Vaggie followed behind her hesitantly, glancing around. “There’s no one here.”

“Oh, there will be~!” Her eyes narrowed in on the shiny object before slapping the small knob on top. A familiar chime echoed throughout the place. The shining gold light appeared, flower petals and feathers fading into view and fluttering giggles became louder.

“So then I see her get spun out from the room, papers flying everywhere, and the all-knowing Dick is rifting his ass off like ee-oouh…” You opened your eyes finally, seeing as you weren’t lounging by the pool with your angel posse anymore. No, instead you were at the Embassy. You turn around to see a familiar someone, her face glaring at you as she stands with a strong posture. You sighed, putting on your best smile. “You know, when I said ‘Come again,’ I didn’t actually mean so soon.”

Charlie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She came looking for answers. And she was gonna get them! “Hi, Y/N. Nice to see you again.” She spoke flatley though she did her best to make it seem light and airy. You glanced past her and noticed another girl standing. She had long white hair, part of the framing pieces covered her left eye along with a pink eyepatch. Your brow rose, stare shifting above her head before connecting to her avoiding eye. “Oh, right!” The blonde’s demeanor changed as she displayed the woman with a big smile. “Vaggie, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Vaggie. Now that introductions are out of the way, we were wonder if you could–”

“Heaven doesn’t have any plans to meet for another three months.” You interrupted, looking down at your freshly done manicure. “All other inquiries must be brought up then.” You glanced up at her. “Bye-bye, now!” You waved with a wiggle of your fingers and went back to where you were, seeing the gold gates once more and walking towards them.

“Y/N?” Saint Peter voiced as he saw you walking towards the gate, “I didn’t know you were scheduled for a visit today?” He noticed your eye twitch.

“I wasn’t.” Once the gate fully opened, you went to take a step and you were in front of your desk again. Your widened eyes soon squinted at the culprit, seeing her hand still hovering over the bell.  

Her face was inquisitive, curious, looking from the bell to your appearance once more. You watched as she finally connected the dots to your summoning. She nervously laughed. “I just have a question and I re~ally need your help to answer it!” She spoke all too quickly as if you’d disappear before she could ask.

This girl was annoyingly determined, you’ll give her that. Unfortunately, ignoring it won’t make it go away. You crossed your arms. “You have ten seconds.” 

Her expression lit up with a smile, “Okay, so, I was wondering, and I didn’t really want to ask my dad, but I thought maybe you might know better anyways since you work so closely with Adam and might have some connections with anyone higher–”

“Five seconds.”

“Is there any way to arrange another meeting with Heaven?”

“What?”

“And not just, Adam-Heaven. I mean like Heaven-Heaven, you know?” Her hopeful eyes were large as she stared, awaiting. Like a small puppy.

“No.” You disappeared. Again.

“Charlie, let’s just go.” Vaggie tried to convince her girlfriend but the princess was not having it. She released a mighty breath before raising her hand and slamming it down on the bell. Fast, repeatedly. The constant chimes were endless.

You had barely caught a glimpse of Peter before being called back down. Arriving to the incessant rings of your bell. An obvious irk appeared as you watched the girl in front of you glare at the golden bell. Her eyes didn’t even raise to meet you, you just watched as her tongue poked out in concentration, her focus remained on her task. 

“Charlie…” Vaggie wearily called out.

“Enough!” Your hands shot forward, pressing down on hers and the bell all together, the ring dulled as you cupped the shell. 

The princess inhaled sharply, feeling your warm touch on her slightly colder hand. “You’re… Here?” She asked quietly, eyes glancing up to meet your irritated glare. “Like… like physically here! I thought angels didn’t come down here!” You rolled your eyes at her words before releasing her hand from your grasp and the bell.

You scoffed. “Of course I’m here.” You crossed your arms. “An angel must be physically present in Heaven’s Embassy at all times. Though we altered the rules slightly because, well, nothing happens down here.” You lightly laughed, shaking your head. “Could you imagine if we left this place unsupervised? Anyways!” You perked up once more. “As much as I would, just lo~ve to assist you, unfortunately there’s no possible way to request a meeting with heaven before the next one. How about you ask your father.” You narrowed your eyes on her.

“I can’t!” The irritation pierced through her tone. “He’s not… I just… He won’t bother with what I’m trying to do!” 

Her words caused your brows to crease. “Why? Is he…” You cleared your throat and turned your head away. “Is he okay?” Your eyes flickered to her. 

“I don’t– I mean, I guess?” She squinted at you. “Why do you care?” 

“I don’t!” You huffed, causing her and now Vaggie to stare at you in confusion. “Listen, I can’t help. See you in three months!” Gone. Once more. Not even taking the time to hear them out.

“Ugh!” Charlie’s hands came to her forehead, dragging down her entire face. “She’s not listening!”

“I told you. Angels won’t understand, we can’t trust them.” Vaggie tried to meet eyes with her. A comforting grip was welcomed on the princess’ shoulder. Charlie sighed, glancing down at the bell. Her hand rose, reaching out to ring it once more. 

“If she won’t listen…” She spoke softly, fingers getting closer. “Maybe she’ll understand once she sees it!” Her idea blossomed a new light within her eyes. Hand snatching the bell, careful to avoid the knob on top and dulling the sound of the shell before it could chime. 

Vaggie’s eyes widened, “Ch-Charlie!” She watched her girlfriend brush past her and book it towards the exit.

“Come on!” The blonde shouted, hands tucking the gold bell into her side as she bolted out the doors.

Vaggie ran after her, jaw slacked. “You–you can’t just take that!” Damn! When did her girl run so fast? “Charlie! Put it back!”

“It’s just for a second!” Of course the justification doesn’t make up for the fact that she is steali–borrowing! Definitely borrowing–the shiny angel bell of summoning. Exactly! She was just borrowing it! She’ll put it back! She just needed to show you exactly what she’s doing. She’ll do anything before having to call her father. Anything.

She bounded through the hotel doors, a bright and cheery smile on her face. The sound caused those in the lobby to snap their heads in her direction. She paid no mind as she ran towards her thought-board. 

“This’ll work! I just know this is gonna work!” She stepped happily side-to-side, clutching the bell preciously to her chest with both hands. “She’s gonna see everything we’ve done! And surely she’ll see it’s worth bringing it up to all her friends and even try to help us! This is perfect!” Niffty appeared, copying Charlie's bounce almost exactly with a huge grin on her face and giggling maniacally. 

“Charlie!” Vaggie yelled, out of breath and standing at the front doors. “Don’t you dare ring that–”

Ding~!

The same heavenly ring sounded upon impact, there was a pause as Charlie waited. The bell held poshly in her hands as her widened puppy eyes stared at it. 

The familiar flourish of glittering golds and fluttering flowers swirled, drawing the crowd into the warming glow. Angel and Sir Pencious creeped closer, awed expressions curiously enraptured by whatever Charlie had brought into the Hotel. 

Husk began pouring another glass of bourbon. “Here we go.” He said, pulling the drink up and gulping a sip down.

The princess sprung in place, watching as the feather cocoon unfurled to reveal none other than you. Your eyes were shut, expression invoking an unexplainable frustration as you released a sigh. “You really know how to ruffle an angel the wr–” Words fell off your lips as soon as your eyes opened, seeing the foreign walls surrounding you. “Where am I?”

You slowly peered at your environment, the dark crimson coated nearly everything in sight; the dingy carpet, the clawed wallpaper, the crusty couch. The gold accents were dull, completely opposite to what you would see upstairs. A bug crawled across the floor and a small… Demon? Ran after it while laughing.  You finally landed on those gawking at you. Three people stood behind the couch. A tall spider-looking fella, a cat-like one with wings, and one that resembled a snake. A lurking shadow loomed from the balcony atop of the stairs, watching. Waiting.

When you turned towards the agonizing pain in your side that seemed to dig further and further in, she was joyfully holding your bell in her hands, a grin presented guiltily. “I am sooo~ sorry but I just really needed you to see exactly what we were doing here an–”

“Stop!” You shouted at her, wings presenting themselves widely and at their highest peak. Your voice echoed with something powerful, something both heavenly and haunting all at once. It was silent for a moment, the cutting tone of your voice froze everyone in place. A seething breath escaped between your gritted teeth.

“Alright, is this what I think it is?” One of the people behind you with a thick accent asked as he shifted his weight onto one hip. He had no care in breaking the thick tension that hung in the air.

“Who iss thiss?” Another one asked, his S’s pulled out as he spoke, eyes flickering between you and Charlie.

“Heh heh.” The princess looked warily before she jumped forward, arms stretched out to present you. “Everyone, this is Y/N!” You simply squint your eyes at the blonde as she bounded about.  “Y/n this is Angel Dust and Sir Pentious. They’re guests at the hotel and undergoing the rehabilitation process!” She then walked over to the other two. “And this is Husk, and this is Niffty! They work here.” 

“Shiny!” The shorter one, Niffty, snatched the bell from Charlie’s hands. Her single pupil dilated as she stared at it. You snapped your fingers, the item disappearing into thin air. 

“Are you trying to piss Heaven off?” You glared at the princess. “Or just me.”

“No! No, no, no.” She stormed towards her thought-board. “I know this isn’t the best situation but if you please. Please! Just look and hear out what I’m doing. I just know you’ll understand.”

“How is Feathers over here supposed to help?” Angel asked, his eyes sizing you up with a tumb jutted out in your direction.

“Shee~e works for the Angel Support Services!” Charlie nervously chuckled, gauging everyone’s reaction. “In Heaven!”

“Angel Support Services?” The spider raised a brow, a set of hands on his hips while the other’s crossed in front of him. A laugh bubbled, “You’re tellin’ me you work for ASS ?” 

You groaned, hand sliding down your face. “Adam’s doing…” 

“Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart, I know all~ about working for ass.” He smirked, wiggling his hips side-to-side to accent the word. “I just didn’t think Heaven got down and dirty like that.” 

“How the hell did you get an angel down here?” Husk's question was forcibly shocked, his tone spiking as did his brow.

“You heard it here first, folks!” Static surrounds your ears before coming to a dull buzz. A man clad in a red suit appeared from an inky shadow, cane in hand and an unnerving smile revealing his sharp canines. “Yes! An angel indeed, seen with my very eyes!” His hand shot out, snatching yours. “Name’s Alastor, a pleasure to mee–” The sizzle from your hand in his made him break the connection immediately, his eye twitched but grin never faltering, though it was now strained. He looked down at his hand, noting the obvious burn on his palm. His pupils slid to you. “Quite the bite you got there.” His voice altered slightly, muffle through his odd filter.

“Don’t. touch me.” You turned away from him. The sound of radio frequency slowly began growing louder until you snapped your head in his direction. It silenced immediately, his head tilting to the side and the smile never changed. It just grew. 

Charlie scooted herself into your vision, putting a buffer between you two. “This is Alastor!” She displayed him. “He manages the hotel.”

“Yes, I’ve always thought this little dream of Charlie’s was worthy of an investment.” He added, holding out his mic'd cane to the lobby.

You ignored him and stared at said girl, seeing her confidence fading, the cheery smiling now slipping the longer she tried to convince you. Perhaps this ‘little dream’ of hers wasn't bound to fail from the start. Was it pity? No… Something else. You took a moment, looking at her closely. It was her eyes. 

The same ones you got to see once a year.

You heaved put an exasperated breath, turning towards her thought-board. Eyes grazing over her various pages and drawings. The red strings connect certain areas in hopes of creating more brainstorming opportunities. “Friendship circle?” You read aloud. 

“Y-Yeah!” Charlie swerved past the couch to stand in front of you. “I-It’s where we all sit down in a circle and say something nice about one another. I came up with it.” She walked forward and pointed at a few more pieces of paper that were connected with pink string. “It’s to help recognize kindness within your friends and have compassion for others! And–” 

“Hey, uh Sweetie.” Vaggie walked forward, her hand setting on her girlfriend's shoulder as she cleared her throat. “Why don’t you ask about the meeting?” She whispered out the last bit.

“Right! The meeting!” Charlie looked at you, seeing your wings flutter as she spoke. You remained stagnant, eyes flickering across her pinned papers. “The reason we want to meet with Heaven before the one at the Embassy is because we need more time!”

You tilted her head at this, eyelids narrowing. “More time?” 

“If I can just get into Heaven to meet with someone higher than Adam before the next extermination, maybe, just maybe–”

“What?” Your neck nearly snapped with how fast you turned towards her.

 “–I can convince them to work together and–” Charlie clearly didn’t hear you as she continued, but you froze. The word repeats like a drum within your thoughts. You glanced back at her drawings. “Extermination…?” You whispered, eyes shaking as her voice slowly drowned to a muffle in the background. Your glazed over eyes focus on a drawing of a figure very similar to one particular man. The very first man. You felt your jaw clench at the sight. Adam.

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tags :: @reinam00n @rebecca-hvnstn @sirenetheblogger @ems-emeralds @angelicwillows @lvstyangel @wobblesthewaffle @saintomie @certainlygay @ravenswritingroom @nanamunath

[weathertheraine]

Pirate AU!! Thank you @stringofturtles for watching OFMD S1 with me and re-igniting my Pirate Emotions so I had the motivation to finish this. The first sketches have been sitting in my files for months so please forgive the fact that they look different skdfjh.

More fleshed out AU details under the cut !! :D

- The kids are a little older than canon - the third years in their early 20s - but the story still starts with the second and third years as an established crew who then pick up the first years and the coaches.

- Daichi as a Captain is of course very much like he is in canon. He works very hard to take care of his crew and takes on a huge responsibility for providing for them (as well as making sure they don’t die in idiotic ways). Suga is First Mate so it’s his job to make sure DAICHI is okay and not worrying himself to death. He also has a good handle on morale/the emotional state of the crew.

- Asahi is the first line of offence when dealing with other ships. He doesn’t like actually hurting people, but he’s good at breaking ranks and barrelling through defences to get hold of whatever Karasuno needs. He was ‘off the team’ and out of commission for a little while after he lost his hand (not seeing combat while he was in recovery, and needing to build up his courage again). Noya played a huge part in helping him back onto his feet, and has been kind of protective ever since.

- Noya’s job is to make sure the ship isn’t boarded, so he very rarely leaves it.

- Ennoshita and Kiyoko work together as navigators and managing the little money the crew has. Ennoshita is the only crew member in the beginning who can kind-of read (Kiyoko can only read a little), and they work a lot with maps and planning out journeys.

- Tanaka is great at intimidating opponents. His eyepatch is totally for show - he thinks it makes him look cooler and scarier. His parrot doesn’t often co-operate with him.

- Narita and Kinoshita take care of maintenance and supplies and making sure there isn’t gunpowder anywhere there shouldn’t be, as well as things like fraying rigging and rotting boards/canons secure and the like. Of course, things like that are everyone’s responsibility, but these two consider is theirs particularly. It’s thankless work but the boat would definitely have burned down by now if not for them.

- Enter the first years!

- Kageyama is a prodigy swordsman with a huge reputation as a lethal pirate, although most people who spread those rumours don’t realise he’s as young as he is. He was marooned by his previous crew for being a controlling Captain (who should never have been captain in the first place, having only his fighting talent as the real reason).

- Hinata recently ran away from home to “become a pirate” without much of an idea what that actually entailed, and ran into Kageyama without knowing his reputation. All he knew was that this guy was incredible fighter, and he demanded that he teach him to fight! He now won’t leave him alone.

- Tsukishima ran away as a very young child in an attempt to find Akiteru, whose sailing ship was attacked and lost at sea. He fell in with pirates along with Yamaguchi (who was picked up after surviving a shipwreck), and the pair ended up sticking together as they bounced from ship to ship, ready to run whenever it seemed like tensions were getting high. They (read: tsukki) are going to need to break this habit, if they’re going to be a real part of this new crew.

- Tsukishima and Yamaguchi can’t sleep if they’re not in the same hammock. Embarrassing. The reason Yamaguchi was so tiny as a little kid is that he didn’t get enough food. Tsukishima still tries to sneak him extra (and gets in trouble with Daichi).

- Tadashi ends up as a sharpshooter, one of the few kids who’s confident using a pistol

- Hinata and Kageyama spar together all the time. It’s GOING to end in a make-out the first time Hinata successfully beats him.

- Neither of them have noticed that Tanaka’s eyepatch switches sides.

- Yachi is picked up when the crew stop in a bar in her town. She’s a better-off girl, about to be talked into an politically advantageous marriage, and desperately wants to get out of her situation. “Running away with pirates” was admittedly pretty drastic, but anything sounds like a good idea when Hinata suggests it so sincerely!!

- Ukai is a washed up older pirate, without a crew. Takeda is a very unlucky literature teacher who just happened to be on a sea voyage. They both ended up taken as hostages by the same (meaner) pirate crew, who were then stolen by the Karasuno kids. Although, it’s kind of unclear at this point whether they’re actually prisoners… They’re being treated very nicely (especially Sensei) and are in danger of getting attached…

[daistea]

(Def not King lurkin into your asks)

Saw that you take requests,,, 👀

What's your thoughts on a sexual relationship with Mithrun? I always get a little stumped with those requests, and you're just *chefs kiss* when it comes to your characterization of him

CRIES HELLO THANK U ILY

ummm tw: spoilers maybe? and nsfw

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Pre-Demon

Mithrun is a total slut, sorry.

That's not a bad thing, obviously, it's just what he is. I mean, he doesn't admit or acknowledge it. He has a very difficult time accepting his preferences. He's just a slut in denial.

That's all.

Pre-Ending, Post-Trauma

Mithrun hasn't had a real boner in forty years, sorry.

He has no interest in being intimate with anyone. He's really casual about the subject, though, because the Canaries--- sans Pattadol--- are pretty honest and open with each other. Shameless.

Fleki thinks he needs to get laid, but she doesn't care enough to push the subject.

Mithrun isn't emotionless, though. He's just preoccupied. His sex drive is extremely low at this point. However, he's observant enough about others to notice how you feel.

He'll have sex just for the sake of having it. He's kinda forgotten how it feels. And he still has pleasure receptors and nerves and all that nonsense. He can still physically react. You just have to do some work. He's not going to be super enthusiastic, but still consenting ofc

Mithrun is a total pillow princess at this point.

It's a bit calming, actually. Kind of therapeutic.

He's relatively quiet, but sometimes he can't help but exhale shakily, or groan. His touches are light. He's not very passionate. But sometimes he looks at you with these slightly dark expressions, as if he's considering something more. Something you don't quite understand.

Post-Canon

It starts out slowly. Mithrun doesn't immediately regain a sex drive. It needs cultivating.

The first time is really important. Depending on who you are and what you're like, it could range from soft and explorative, to rough and frantic.

Mithrun is a switch. I see a lot of depictions of him as a bottom, and I see that point of view, I really do. But I genuinely believe he'd work both roles. He would like to be dominant sometimes. Other times, he just wants to sit back and let the new feelings take over.

He likes being called a good boy.

He doesn't really enjoy the fact that he likes being called that. It's demeaning and it kind of makes him a little irritated, but holy crap does it set him on fire. 'Good boy' should only be invoked in the most passionate or rough of moments.

Mithrun can be rough when he feels like it. He can push you against a wall with the intent to make you forget your own name. He can leave bruises with how tightly he digs his fingers in. He bites, as always, but harder.

Speaking of biting, he'll usually bite your shoulder to keep himself from making much noise.

Mithrun wants to consume you entirely. He wants every inch of you. Your focus should be on him and him only. He likes hearing his name from your lips. Over and over. And he will often ask you who you belong to. He sounds calm in those moments, though, level-headed and scratchy as always, but there's a hint of expectance between his words.

He'll say it back, too, but in a very casual way, as if he doesn't quite understand why you want him to say that. Of course he's yours. Does it need to be acknowledged?

He has no shame, either. Anywhere, any time, if he wants it then he'll initiate it. He only pulls you into private alleys or closets because he knows that's what you prefer.

When you take charge, he enjoys that too. He likes looking up at you, taking in the view, letting his hands wander.

Whether he's top or bottom really depends on his mood.

If he's feeling especially jealous or possessive, he leaves a lot of marks.

He likes praise. He doesn't really give it back, though.

He's not very talkative during the deed, but if you talk often he'll just end up clamping a hand over your mouth.

He enjoys wrapping his fingers around your neck. He doesn't really like that in return, though.

No mirror sex.

He really likes oral. He can be a little selfish with it, actually.

Mithrun isn't a sadist LOL but he does like to tie you up sometimes and leave you hanging. It also depends on how you are as a person and what your dynamic is like.

If he's not in a dominant mood, he's a pillow princess again. Those are the days when he's not feeling as much, when he's not as locked in to his desires. Or, when he's just mentally or physically tired.

No matter what mood, he still needs a lot of care and affection. He needs every ounce of your focus.

He doesn't provide much aftercare. You're the one doing that, no matter who topped. But he eventually learns a bit and starts kinda reciprocating out of sheer habit, because he knows it would make you happy.

As I always say, Mithrun stares a lot. His gaze follows you everywhere, and he'll never get tired of the sight of your body.

He sorta passes out afterwards. It's one of the rare times when he doesn't need a sleep spell. He often will just pass out on top of you.

In general, he's a switch and how he acts is highly dependent on his mood for the day. He needs a lot of attention and affection, and likes to mark you up. He lacks shame, he'll initiate it anywhere. He's relatively quiet, but breathy. Sometimes, he touches you like you're porcelain about to crack. Other times, he manhandles you like a rag doll and does whatever he pleases. If you're able to, manhandle him in return, he'll probably get a little pissy with you but it's still funny.

:0 !

★・・・・・・★

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Code: White Analysis

I finally saw the Spy x family movie Code: White!!

It was fantastic. I loved it 💖

Here's what I think (spoilers below the picture 😉):

Twilight

It's super evident Twilight cares A LOT about his family. As soon as Handler tells him someone else will take over Operation Strix, he's worried and, during the movie, he goes around like a crazy man doing all sorts of crazy things to keep his family. Nevertheless, the biggest giveaway about this happens when:

Twilight puts Anya before his mission!! Yes, you read right: Agent Twilight receives a direct order from WISE telling him that recovering the microfilm had priority over rescuing Anya and Mr. Spy puts his daughter's safety first and goes to her rescue (which eventually led to getting the microfilm back, but still).

Yor

Yor is a total mom here. She protects her baby and plays with her too 😌 She acts like a mom too because she's always trying to keep the family together; she's the one who reminds that to Loid when he's all frantic working. Here, Yor displays one of her best quality: emotional intelligence. And of course, during the movie at the big fight scene she looks like a total badass.

Now about the big Twiyor moment...

Like I mentioned before here, there's a fake and a real Twiyor moment in the movie. The fake Twiyor moment happens when Yor gets drunk and asks Loid to tell her how he really feels about her (!!!)...before passing out 🫤 You've probably seen plenty of images about that:

The real Twiyor moment happens later, thanks to the captain of the Twiyor ship 🫡 Anya Forger, who pushes her parents to ride the Ferris wheel alone so they can flirt. Here, Yor tells him (crying) that she saw him with his "girlfriend" and Loid clarifies it was just a random stranger (it was Nightfall) asking for directions. This is when the real Twiyor moment happens:

Listen, we could argue that Twilight here was being a liar and trying to fix the situation between them "for the mission", but I choose to believe something different. In my opinion, Twilight was being sincere and he wanted not only to reassure Yor but to pour his heart out and reassure himself. Come on, the man repeated their wedding vows! He was getting carried away (it was too much for our shy Yor) and if it wasn't for Yor punching him out of the Ferris wheel, I think this would have ended in the Twiyor kiss we've all been waiting 😆 (maybe one day!).

Something worth mentioning is that when Twilight and Yor get off the Ferris wheel, Anya reads their minds, but we don't get to know what her parents are thinking 😏 she just smiles and that's how she knows everything is okay between her parents. Little sus, right? I am sure Anya knows what's really going on between those two (read about that here).

This happens again, when Twilight rescues Anya from the kidnappers. We all know Mr. Spy is bad at expressing his emotions, so when he's finally reunited with his daughter, he doesn't show much of anything. Anya hugs him, picks her head up and reads his mind. Just like the last time, we don't get to know what Anya reads inside her papa's mind, but she smiles. Funny how this only happens twice in the movie, in both occasions related to his wife and daughter 🤔

So now, the big question: Is this movie canon?

In this case, every person who sees the movie can form their own opinion about that. In my opinion, since there was no identity reveal nor anything that would change the plot in the manga, I think it's okay to consider it canon. So, until the author says it's not canon, I'm going to consider it part of it.

Overall, it was a fantastic movie, very funny, with plenty of Forger family moments and that something that makes Spy x family so special 💖

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

You're saying that zutara wasn't supported by the writers and shouldn't have been an endgame. That's a lie! and you can verify this, for example, by reading this post. Zutara has a huge support of writers and actors, she was supposed to become a canon! We were just robbed.

https://www.tumblr.com/crienselt/744143410729041920?source=share

I can show you lots of videos of Grey Delisle saying Azula and Zuko are totally fucking (including one she recorded for my birthday), and there's an infamous clip of Bryke proposing Azula and "The Blue Spirit" as a potential ship in a pannel. Somehow I don't think you'll take that as meaning my OTP is canon and was just robbed of it's endgame at the last second - but apparently tumblr posts are solid proof, therefore my argument is perfect and all you Zutara fans are now gonna have to accept that you ship Katara with a guy that canonically (by the standards YOU GUYS are trying to set at least) loves incest even more than Jaime and Cersei Lannister did. And oh, would you look at that! During one of the times Grey mentioned Zucest, Dante said "The Fire Nation are a bit like the Lannisters." See the links if you don't believe me. WHERE'S YOUR GOD NOW?

The creators/showrunners, writers, and lead writer have all said a billion times "Kataang was always the heart of the show and by the time the first episode aired we were set on it being endgame. Some people in the crew liked BOTH Kataang and Zutara, but Zutara was NEVER seriously considered as a real possibility for endgame or even temporary romance. The only love triangle ever considered was Aang, Katara and MALE Toph."

It doesn't matter how many interviews yall fake, how many clips you take out of context, how many deleted scenes you claim existed without a shred of proof to back it up, how many times you go "but this actor whose job is ACTING not WRITTING says he likes Zutara" or "This writer that wrote tons of Kataang episodes said the word Zutara once when writting a scene between Zuko and Katara" - your ship is still fanon. That's not a dig at you or saying it's bad, it's just a fucking fact.

Write some fanfic if you like it so much, but don't turn the production of the series itself into your fanfic just so you can lie to yourself about how there was ever any chance of you getting what you wanted in the actual canon.

And for real, you're gonna try to use the LIVE ACTION as proof? The thing the creators disowned? Netflix's over-glorified cosplay session that everyone keeps saying "It's mid at best" is THE argument you go for? Have some goddamn standards, I'm begging you.

[stgosupremacy]

HI SO TODAY WE R GONNA ANALYSE EVERY OFFICIAL SATOGOU POSTER (ok i couldnt get my hands on them all but)🥰

heres the thing no one asked for

there's hearts. 💯❤

honestly pretty chill but THERES HEARTS-

ok so theres not much else going on here but this is rlly cute of a poster lmao of the boys all cosy and cute <33 and ash drinking this cool soda lol

pikachu looks so cute omggggg

(@skyecrystal pointed out this was released on valentines day hehe) 😏

MORE HEARTS MWAHAHAHHAHAHA ok but like all their pokemon are clearly routing for them (esp lucario look at him)

ALSO random but i love how it's gohs pokemon looking directy at the present in gohs hand lol like theyre just waiting for him to fess up....AND GOH DEFO GAVE THAT PRESENT TO ASH AFTER THE SHOOT 💖😊😊

ehhhhh 4 gays 1 picture, keep scrollinggg....

(theyre all literally like 2 inches apart bahhaa)

OK BUT IM SORRY HHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH WHY THE WEDDING SUITS LMFAOOOOOOOOOO 🤨

love how ash is just totally sweetly oblivious and just smiling...

...gary is just acting chill and cool as always...

and goh is....just blushing and is internally screaming we can tell ok

I LOVE THIS ONE SMM LOL LOOK AT MR MIME HE KNOWS BAHAHAHAHHA 😏😏

and goh l i t e r a l l y getting distracted by ash- look at him !! 💖🤨 so distracted in fact that the ICING IS COMING OUT THE PIPING BAGGGGGG UGHGHGHHGH

and then chloe just being adorable ofc awh lmao

ah then we have to appreciate sobble and pikachu looking down at their trainers like 'we know what you guys are' 🥰

iLOVEEEE this one but the ones to come knock it off the bar holy heck 😤-

they literally couldnt be any close in this BAHAHHAHA AWWHHH teyre so cute <33 and ash's arm around him 🥺 I love how are just squashed up together while iris has the spotlight but they happy ^^

wait but we have to appreciate iris tho- LOOK AT HERRRRRR 💜💜

so uhhh...

still speaking of iris, she's so cute feeding pikachu right omg <33 💜🥺

andddddddd as much as i love and adore iris i couldn't help but notice something elseeee....it's not even that obvious idk if yall saw but

ash is feeding him.

he is literally feeding him-

ANDGOHISBLUSHING

LIKE

wow

also love goh's red socks theyre slayin

BUT ANYWAY gosh i love iris OBVS but everyone was like aww iris and pikachu cute aww-

LIKE HELLO?? have you seen this over here omg. the little cherry blossoms falling on them too (i cant help but notice some are shaped like hearts but they normally are anyway 🥰)

so yeah this one was defo anipoke being bold but uh

yall know which one is last 🙂🙂🙂

....

so i was like wow that is some REALLY good fanart dam-

BUT THEN

NO WAY THIS IS ACC REAL??????????????? NO IT RLLY IS OMG I LITERALLY CAN'T HOW IS THIS OFFICAL LMFAO look at them 😰

GOH IS FULL ON BLUSHING WITH ASH BEING PAINFULLY OBLIVIOUS AND WINKING????? AND THEN LOOK HOW FKN CLOSE THEY ARE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE 🥰🥰🥰🥰 his cap is all squahed upwards bc of how close they are LMAO and ash is casually feeding himm...

again.

c'mon you can't tell me this isn't hinting at SOMETHING HERE 🙂🙂 WHOEVER IS DRAWING THESE OFFICIAL ARTS THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART <33

no like seriously combined with the gay shit from pokemon journeys they HAVE TO BE CANON LOL 🤩

THIS WAS SO FUN 😍 considering to tag this as satogou week 2023....which wasn't even my intention anyway but...HEY LETS DO IT!

#satogouweek2023 <3

(me considering if anyone is acc gonna read all of this 😀😀 )

[silverzoomies]

Honeysuckle

peter Maximoff x reader smut

chapter 2: later gator

warnings: female reader (sorry), sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, overstimulation, shameless smut, rough sex, kissing, porn with (slight) plot, canon divergence

word count: 5142

a/n: to anyone who reads, thank you for enabling my deranged bullshit,, ilysm

some more notes regarding canon divergence: idfk where peter's house was originally supposed to be set (in dofp). but in this fic, pretend it's in westchester. got it? good. also, i love the concept of pietro being his birth name so much, i had to throw it in,,

chapter 1 here.

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You showed up to Peter’s (his mom’s) doorstep a little less than an hour later. 

Now, Peter personally thought you could’ve been a lot quicker about it (what if he was dying?? Like, yeah, he sort of was). Whether he thought this because of his natural impatience, or his rambunctious, horny brain; he couldn’t tell. But Peter knew he didn’t have any right to complain. Considering the-uh…circumstances. You were the one doing him a favor.

Even if you didn’t necessarily know about said favor yet.

Raising your fist to knock at the front door, your knuckles didn’t get a chance to make contact. In less than a nanosecond’s time, you found yourself behind an entirely different door. The door to the basement. Peter’s basement (well, technically, his mom’s. But let’s ignore the logistics, he thought).

The door slammed shut behind you with an abrupt rattle. Your back was pressed hard against an amalgamation of Star Wars posters covering it, as Peter kept you trapped before him. And you stood at the very top of the basement stairs. A large hand of his clasped over your mouth, just in case you felt the need to freak out. At least his mom wasn't home to overhear anything if you did. Thank the high powers for impromptu, grocery trips.

His toned, shirtless body idled a little too close to yours. Leaning into your personal space further than he normally would. Peter was perched one or two steps down from you, keeping his head tilted up. He blinked with a dark, half-lidded gaze. And he stared into your questioning eyes with a heavy intensity. You were caged in. With his other hand next to your face, pressed flat against the door.

Peter panted breathlessly. He was an exasperated mess of burning heat and steaming sweat. Sweat which reeked of a sickly sweet smell you didn’t recognize. And you assumed it to be…perfume? Or something? You really couldn’t guess. Whatever it was, it threw you for a loop. As the sweet scent met your nose, a pleasant chill surged along your spine. Peter was so intoxicating.

Peter’s cheeks burned the brightest shade of red you’d ever seen on him. And you noticed, in his eyes, Peter’s pupils appeared impossibly big. Both were a stunning, black abyss of carnal desire.

You didn’t seem to pick up on that desire, however.

“Hey.” Peter huffed with a casual, lazy smirk. Breathless when he spoke. As he pulled his hand from your mouth, a subtle, lingering sweetness clung to your lips. You furrowed your brows, giving him a confused look. “Uhm…hi?” You shook your head, smiling uneasily with a laugh, “Are you, like, okay, dude? You look like a mess! What was up with that text, by the way? Are you sick?”

Peter blinked in a hazy, sweltering daze. And he promptly shook his head. He impatiently drummed his speedy fingers with the hand pressed against the door.

“Huh? Nah, I’m-...I’m totally bitchin’, babe. Just-” A pause, and Peter’s bright blush spread to the tips of his ears, “Actually…if I can keep it real fer a sec? I’m-uh…I don’t really feel like myself right now.”

His statement made you even more concerned. He could tell in the way your expression shifted. Your brows pressed together further, and your worried smile fell into a small frown. The rational part of Peter’s brain ached with shame, his heart twisting at the sight. The last thing he wanted to do was worry you.

But the spicier portion of his brain found your innocence way more arousing than it should’ve been. Peter slapped himself internally. Chill out, dude. Don’t be gross.

“What do you mean? Not yourself? You seem fine to me. A little sweaty, and maybe a little tired. But otherwise…” You forced a lighthearted smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair, “Same ol’ Peter.”

Peter’s heart raced to roadrunner speed in his chest, pounding rapidly. God, you were too cute. With his bangs hanging messily in his face, he let his eyes roam across your features. So soft, and so nice. An echoing voice in the far, dark recesses of his rampantly horny mind screamed at him. Begging Peter to take you right then and there on the basement stairs.

But Peter was conscious enough, that he cringed at himself for even daring to consider such a warped thought. 

“It's nothin’. Don’t worry ‘bout me, kay? Probably just comin’ down with somethin’.” He lied, feigning a chillaxed grin, “Like ya said, same ol’ Peter.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight from foot to foot. If the look on your face was anything to go by; Peter knew for sure, you could see right through his bullshit. Aside from the fact that you knew him well enough? At the moment, Peter was as transparent as the shattered glass he left on the floor of Hank’s lab. 

Peter guiltily dropped his gaze from your face, and to your belly. But as his eyes dragged slowly downward, he instantly regretted this action. Prior to this moment, Peter hadn’t noticed what you were wearing. He’d been in too quick a rush to drag you into the basement. 

A tight, crop top hugged your upper body, leaving your belly exposed. The mere sight of your bare skin almost made him bust a nut in his sweatpants. Peter swallowed hard, and that honeysuckle sweetness sank down his throat. He coughed, and drummed his fingers a little faster against the door.

“Uh huh? Are you sure?” You asked, reaching up to brush Peter’s bangs out of his eyes.

At that moment, a hot, sticky wave of sexually charged static shot through Peter’s veins. He dropped his head, the messy fluff of his hair meeting your tummy. With both hands now pressed to the door on either side of you, Peter’s fingernails dug into it. He huffed a desperate laugh, and shook his head.

“Toooootally aces, babe.”

You rolled your eyes with a playful, but concerned scoff.

“Hey, Peter, seriously. Talk to me, okay? What’s wrong?”

Your tone was as sweet as the sugary taste on Peter’s tongue. Enough to give him a toothache. And in a comforting gesture, totally innocent; you brought a gentle hand up to his shoulder. Your palm rested there without flinching, even despite the feel of his sweat under your skin.

“Jeez! Honey, you’re burnin’ up! Are you sure you’re not, like, really sick?” You pressed.

Peter felt the soft touch of your hand to the top of his head. Your fingers carded through his slightly damp hair. The tickling sensation of your fingertips sent tingles down his spine. And Peter’s body set itself ablaze. These were simple touches. Your fingers in his hair, your other hand lightly squeezing his muscles. Nothing too suggestive.

But his horny, addled mind reacted instantaneously. The very second Peter sensed your fingers were close, he sucked in a harsh, ragged breath. And as you made contact, he visibly shuddered. His fingernails dug themselves deeper into the door, leaving tears in the posters there (major apologies to Luke Skywalker and the gang). Peter raised his head from your belly.

And finally, he looked up into your eyes again. Or, at least, he tried to. Immediately upon seeing your pretty face, his gaze dropped straight to your lips.

“Shiiit…lovesick, maybe...” He tiredly blinked, huffing another breathless laugh, “Damn…yer really pretty, y’know that?” Peter’s teeth dug into his lip, as he subconsciously leaned an inch closer into your space. Your heart skipped several beats in your chest, and your eyes widened. The cutest blush flooded your soft cheeks as you gasped. And Peter’s dick twitched painfully beneath the fabric of his grey sweatpants.

“Dude…what??” You asked, barely audible. Scoffing in disbelief, you giggled, “Yeah, okay, somethin’s definitely wrong with you, man. Need me to call a doctor?” And you muttered under your breath, “ Or a mental ward, maybe? ”

Peter snickered in response, his smile spreading wide and showing teeth. The corners of his mouth pressed up into his dimples. And he shook his head, embarrassed beyond all human comprehension.

Another searing wave of horny torment swarmed Peter. And this one stung like hell. Peter’s cock throbbed with an ache he couldn’t ignore, even if he tried. He exhaled shaken breaths, reeking that thick, sweet scent. And without intending to, Peter rocked his hips forward. His bulge lightly brushed against your leg.

You squeaked with a gasp, tilting your head down. And realization seemed to dawn on you suddenly, as you noticed the shape of Peter’s hard dick in his sweatpants.

The softest, little “Oh… ” was all you could muster.

Peter bolted from the stairs before you could say anything else. He quickly paced in circles through the basement. Slow enough, this time around, that he didn’t appear as a blur. Just himself, in all his sweat-drenched, obvious boner glory. His cock bounced under his sweatpants as he moved. And you had to wrestle with god himself to resist staring at it. Maybe you understood the level of stress Peter was under. Because you saved him the humiliation, and failed to mention his situation aloud. “Y-uhm…You gonna be okay?” You asked, your voice somewhat hushed. “Me?? Hell if I know! Probably!” Peter threw his hands up as he rushed around, expelling his pent up energy, “Look, I’m, like, really sorry, babe. I shouldn’t’ve-...it’s just-...I’m goin’ through a majorly weird thing, and I need-” He stammered awkwardly over his words, stopping himself with a frustrated groan.

Stepping slowly down the stairs, you came to a halt as your tennis shoes reached the basement floor. You rubbed your arm for self-reassurance, shyly looking around with an intake of breath.

“You need what? Please don’t be afraid to talk to me, dude. I’m not gonna think less of you or anything.” You spoke with a tender insistence.

Only, your sweet words flew right over Peter’s head. Straight out the basement window. Later, gator.

Peter was too busy stopping dead in his tracks, his eyes giving you a not-so-subtle once over. And the image he took in, made it ultimately harder for Peter to resist his instinctive, lustful needs.

Standing in his (his mom’s) basement, looking so vulnerable, you avoided Peter’s gaze. The crop top you wore hugged your figure a little too tight. Showing off the swell of your tits, with a collar that hanged way too low to be modest. Long, thin sleeves covered your arms. Peter shamelessly let his eyes trail even lower. Past the soft, exposed skin of your belly. Skin he wanted to mark with his teeth and cum. And down to the short skirt - Peter had to do the mother of all double takes just then - hanging over your smooth thighs. And were those thigh-high socks covering your legs, or was he just hallucinating some sexy mirage? 

Your knees bumped together as you shifted your weight, your skirt fluttering with the movement.

Somebody call 9-1-fucking-1. Alert every doctor in the Westchester area. Because Peter might’ve actually gone straight into cardiac arrest. If he were to die right now? After seeing you, looking like that? Totally worth it. Amen.

“Peter? Did you hear me, honey? Is there-...I mean…is there anything I can do to help?”

Peter didn’t, for the life of him, expect you to say something like that.

Your eyes oozed innocence and genuine kindness. And Peter wanted to roll his eyes over it. You were so ridiculously nice in the face of an awkward situation. The apples of your cheeks burned hotter with every word you spoke. And though you may not have understood what Peter was going through, you offered your help anyway. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked. Subconsciously, you swiped your tongue across your lip to wet it. And again, your sock-clad knees knocked together with the adjustment of your shy posture.

Peter fought with all his mutant might to ignore another, painful influx of heat washing over his body. But ultimately, he failed. Miserably.

“F-Fuck-” He choked.

His dilated eyes flew open wide. A fwip, and Peter appeared in front of a nearby wall, hunched over next to a Ninja Turtles: Turtles in Time arcade machine. He kept his back towards you. And through the sheen of his sweat, you could see the way his muscles flexed. His body twitched, hips subtly bucking forward. Peter braced himself with a hand against the wall, groaning a series of soft noises into his other palm.

So,-uhmmm...maybehetotallyjustblewaloadinhispantsorwhatever. No biggie.

“Peter?? Holy shit-” you called.

Worried for his well being, you quickly raced towards him. And with a low grumble of a sound, Peter banged his head lightly against the wall. Mortified and supremely embarrassed, he slowly turned, pressing his back to the wall. You were much closer now. Close enough that Peter could reach out and pull you into his body if he wanted to. And he did want to. He wanted to so fucking bad. The very last remnants of his self control told him not to.

Time to bite the silver bullet, and face the music; so to speak.

Peter placed a trembling hand on your shoulder, the palm of it massive. And you jumped at the rough strength of his touch. Peter sighed, shaking his head. He avoided your gaze. And in his eyes, he carried with him a heavy, exhausted weight. The kind of tiredness you could see from a mile away. Peter knew he probably looked like a disgusting wreck. Not his most attractive, he had to admit.

Little did he know, you thought he looked drop dead gorgeous like this.

He hesitated before speaking, struggling to let the words slip off his sugary tongue. Once Peter finally opened his mouth, he rushed through his explanation in rapid succession. And the only reason you understood, was because you’d been around Peter for a long enough span of time. Luckily enough (or unluckily, depending), you’d become accustomed to his speedy, speech patterns.

“IIIIIIIIII fucked up real bad, babe. Like, really really bad. In Beastie’s lab. There were these nerdy, science chemicals, y’know? He’s always got stuff like that lyin’ around. Which, if you ask me? Is totally hazardous. Amiright? And I may have knocked some over. Because I was goin’ too fast and I wasn’t payin’ attention. Classic me, right? Pffbbt. So, anyway, I breathed in some, like, pink stuff. Kinda tastes like - you ever try honeysuckle as a kid? It tastes like that. It’s really sorta nostalgic. Reminds me of when I was- Uhm -sorry, I’m totally off track here. So-uh…ever since that happened? I’ve been stuck like this fer hours. And I’m not gonna lie to ya. It hurts. And it’s all hot ‘n stuff. Uh-”

You interrupted his nonsensical ramblings with a wave of your hand. As if suggesting you had a thought to add. Peter tried to ignore the way your blush spread down to your neck. And any thoughts he had about dragging his tongue sloppily across it, were shoved back down into frisky hell. Where they belonged.

“Uhm. S-...So, did you try-” You started. And Peter already knew ten thousand years ahead of time, what you were about to suggest.

“Beatin’ my meat? Yeah. Only a dozen times.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Peter let out a long, awkward sigh. The exhale of it wavered with the shuddering of his overheated body, “I think-...y’know, if I had to guess? Just throwin’ whatever thoughts out there. Darts on a board. Fwoo -” He made a throwing motion with his hand, “I think I just need to-uh…like…pfffbbt… bang ‘er whatever, y’know?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. ” Peter sighed once more, throwing his head back against the wall. Clearing his throat with an unrelaxed cough, he continued, “Soooooo …ya think we could…I dunno…I don’t wanna…fuck up things between us more than I already ha-”

Peter was fast.

But even whilst carrying the oh, so sacred speedster gene, he didn't see you coming. Lost in a heated, sex-crazed haze of confusion and hesitation; Peter was completely caught by surprise when you interrupted his words with a bruising kiss. For a fraction of a second, his rational mind ran through a million questions at lightspeed. Why the heck would you kiss him? Did you have feelings for him? Were you only trying to be nice? What did this even mean to you? Did it mean anything? But before he could register a single one, his carnal instincts took over.

With the inhumanly fast beating of his heart, came fuzzy, blistering, hot desire. Peter’s cock swelled his pants, the veins intertwined through it pulsating with every beat. He growled into your mouth, kissing you in a filthy, sloppy blend of teeth and tongues. You drank down the sweet, honeysuckle taste on his lips. Thirsty for it, as if swiping your tongue across them would bring you infinite serenity.

A beat passed.

Peter had you in his bed in an instant. The ultra-fast movement shook you to your core, leaving you a little dizzy. There wasn’t a single moment to catch up, before Peter’s lips enveloped yours all over again. He kissed you with wet, deep desperation. Moaning hot puffs of air through every, abrupt pause between kisses. Your fingers rushed to graze across the skin of his chest, over his toned torso. Peter allowed you only a meager moment to feel the bump of his abs under your fingertips, before he suddenly moved.

Rolling you around swiftly amongst the sheets, Peter frantically searched for more physical contact. Desperate to be as close to your body as he could. The heat coursing through his veins heightened to a scorching blaze with your every touch. Your hands in his hair. Your lips and tongue against his. Peter let his own, trembling hands roam all over and down your body. A body he’d admired in secret for far too long a time, he now realized.

But now? You were here. In his bed. Melting into a hot, submissive puddle underneath him. And Peter, in an impatient, concupiscent state of mind…found he just couldn’t fucking hold back anymore.

“I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, I gotta have you. I gotta feel your pussy around me, babe. Please-” Peter whispered hotly into your lips, moaning with swirls of his tongue.

"P-Peter ~" You mewled his name, and he fell even weaker into your kiss.

He pulled away for a beat, his lips coated in sticky, sweet saliva. Peter jerked the collar of your crop top down, along with anything underneath. One of your tits popped out with a bounce, the nipple hardening upon exposure to the air. He palmed at your breast, leaning down to harshly sink his teeth into your neck. Peter's tongue traveled up to your ear, where he whispered with a whine.

“Look at this hot fuckin’ body. You been hidin’ all this from me? This whole time?” His thumb flicked your nipple, vibrating with a soft, superspeed buzz, "You got some bomb as hell titties, baby."

Those mild vibrations against your tit pulled quiet moans out of you. And you giggled at Peter's comment, bashfully shaking your head as you pulled him up for another kiss.

"No shit, they've been there the whole time, dumbass. All you had to do was ask." You breathed into his lips. And Peter huffed a hot laugh, lightly nipping your lip.

"Woulda asked sooner, had I known." He breathed, humming a low moan, " Sooooooo much sooner."

None of your clothes were pulled from your body. Peter was in too much of a rush to get his dick inside you. His speedy-fast brain sent itself straight into auto-pilot. There was no controlling his actions from this point onwards. Bye bye, rational thought. And using all the strength he had, Peter forced your legs apart. He threw both of your shoe-clad feet over his sweaty shoulders.

Peter’s hot fingers darted down to push your panties aside. And the instant his eyes gazed upon your righteous, angelic pussy; he choked out a whine of relief. Something instinctive. A sound he didn’t even mean to make. 

Shoving the front of his sweatpants down, Peter hastily grabbed his enlarged, aching cock. You glanced down curiously, just to have a sneaky peek at your best friend’s dick. And at the sight of it, you audibly gasped. Your cunt immediately reacted, weeping an onslaught of slick heat just for him. You also, just so happen to notice the thick, sticky cum coating his length. Which meant, Peter had quite literally creamed his pants sometime in the last five minutes or so. Your entire face lit like a match, colored strawberry red at this realization. And you couldn’t help but wonder what must have triggered such a strong reaction in him. That pink stuff Hank’s cookin’ up in his lab must be out of this world.Not a single word of warning was given, as Peter shoved his swollen, needy cock as deep into your pussy as it could go. Using his cum as lubricant, he forced his way quickly through your tight walls. Hitting your cervix in an instant. Hot, breathy moans smelling so sweet, rang out from above you. As Peter began relentlessly pounding you into oblivion. 

Your pussy was the holiest of holy sanctuaries. Fucking outrageous.  

“Fuck! Fuck, that’s it! God, baby, yer so tight. So fuckin’ wet-” Peter spilled every word, with no filter.

"P-Peter~! Ah! You feel so good, Peter~" You moaned. While plunging his cock into your dripping cunt, Peter dropped his head. Silver hairs pointed out in every direction, his bangs covering his eyes. And he posed a timid thought aloud.

"Pietro." His humid breath tickled your ear, "P-Please. "

If you could blush any further, you would have. Pleasant, tickling goosebumps erupted across your skin. Biting your lip, you frantically nodded. Your hands traveled to his hair, where you gently grabbed the sides of Peter's head to pull him up. You met his eyes with an adoring grin.

"Fuck me, Pietro. Please, fuck me fast. As fast as you wanna go, baby. I'm all yours." 

Peter nearly came, and you felt the veins of his cock vibrate against your walls as he fucked you. You threw your head back, whining with a coquettish squeak. 

Fucking you missionary wasn’t enough.

Peter hit all those spots inside you that made you squirm needily underneath him. But he wanted - no - needed to be even closer. He so badly wanted to hold you against him, while he made mindless, risky, speedy love to your perfect, little pussy. His thoughts were all the more amorous, as he felt the way your plushy walls squeezed around his cock. Choking out a groan, Peter took to pulling you with him. As he rolled around in a flash, adjusting positions.

“Gimme just a sec, princess.” He breathed.

Finally, at long last, he found something perfect. And so fucking close. Peter spooned you on the bed, wrapping his muscular arms tightly around your body. His muscles strained under his burning skin as he held you in a firm grip. And with his chest pressed to your back, he kept fucking you. Peter’s pulsating cock stretched you open so wide, pumping into your cunt at a faster pace.

Like, super speed fast. Fast enough to be so overwhelming, you couldn’t think straight (you were brainless on his dick at this point, honestly). But not so quick that he’d hurt you.

One of his big hands traveled down to your skirt, which he lifted up over your ass. Peter pressed himself even closer. Letting his pelvis meet the soft, bounce of your ass cheeks as he fucked you fast and hard. Only because you asked so nicely, and not at all because you had him completely pussy whipped. Burying his face in your neck, he inhaled your scent. And Peter peppered your skin in wet kisses.

He was close to his peak. Peter could feel it. These last, several, miserable hours had all been building up to this very moment. Dozens of nut-busting sessions later. This was definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, exactly what Peter needed. And for you to be the one to give it to him? Talk about a major fucking score.

Peter’s moans became even more desperate, more akin to pathetic cries the closer he got to release. His body flared up in a steaming heat, bracing itself for oncoming ecstasy. And Peter thrust his cock into you faster.

Faster. Faster. Faster. So much fucking faster.

“T-Too fast! Too fast, Pietr-I can’t! Please-” You suddenly cried, your cunt clamping down on Peter’s cock even tighter. If he didn’t slow down, you were surely going to squirt around his dick. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t stop, babygirl. J-Just gimme- fuck, why are you so fuckin’ tight?? Fuck -just gimme one more second, please- ”

Your pussy fluttered, pulling his cock in deep. And Peter found it then. The cusp of his agonizing, excruciating journey through rampant, horny torment. A number of things helped guide him over. Your cute, broken squeals of pleasure were the first. Peter never would have guessed that anything could make you moan like that. But, fuck, he wanted to lock the sound of your cries deep into his core memory, for the rest of his days.

“Keep going, Pietro~! You’re- ahh -so fast, you’re gonna make me cum, baby!” 

Your movements further spurred him on. Peter was completely thrown, as you met each of his thrusts with the rocking of your hips. Your ass jiggling with every bounce against his pelvis. So soft. Even despite the overwhelming speed of Peter’s thrusts, you kept going for his sake. As though you couldn’t get enough of his cock. And Peter swore to himself, he would worship the ground you walked on once this was all over.

“I-I’m cumming Pietro! Cumming just for you! FUCK!!” You cried as your eyes rolled back. Your body erupting into a brainless, blissful, quivering mess of orgasmic euphoria.

Okay. Yeah. Peter was totally gonna make you his religion after this. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum fer me, babygirl? Please cum fer me. Please -” He moaned.

Peter felt the gummy walls of your cunt squeeze him in a vice grip. And he shut his eyes tightly, emitting an obscene, filthy moan. A hot gush of your slick sprayed from your pussy with each thrust of Peter’s cock. Staining his bedsheets and coating his thighs. 

The final nail in the coffin was the moment you turned your head just so. In your own, overstimulated, post-orgasmic daze. You pressed your cheek to Peter’s in a gesture of reassurance. A silent indication that you weren’t suffering too much as he fucked you at mach speed. Peter felt his heart flutter, much like a hummingbird, at the closeness. 

Maybe he really was in love with you. Maybe he wasn’t as influenced by boner plague as he thought.

A metaphorical coil tightened deep in Peter’s gut. Pleasurable, buzzing tingles bolted through every one of his nerves. Finally, the coil snapped. Something like a volcanic eruption of blistering, syrupy ecstasy freed him. Releasing Peter from the shackles of hard cock disease. One, last plunge of his thick cock in your cunt, and Peter lost it.

He spilled his sweet, sweltering cum so deep in your pussy; you could’ve sworn you felt the heat pooling in your belly. Peter filled you up with everything he had, until there was nothing left to give.

The wavering burns that once infected Peter’s body, finally began to subside. At long last.

Peter was left with a massive headache, and painfully sore muscles. And because he was so incredibly exhausted; he didn’t pull himself away from you. Nor did he pull out. For whatever reason, he couldn’t. Peter wanted to stay there. Buried deep. Pressed against your back. Forever, if you let him.

A blissful wave of sleepiness hit Peter like a truck. And a dopey grin spread across his face. Showing off those dimples again. Peter’s dark eyes fell half-lidded, the smokey rings around them so much more evident. He dropped his head to the pillows, his hair fluffy and tousled across the fabric of them. In his sleepy, mellow haze; Peter let out the dorkiest of giggles.

“Wow…wow- fuck…I can’t believe you actually let me do that, babe…holy shit…” He laughed in breathless disbelief, "You're a goddess."

As if priding himself on what he’d done to you, Peter thrust his hips upward. Just one more time for good measure. His softening dick remained buried between your slick walls. And his face scrunched up at the overstimulation of this movement alone. Peter eventually stopped altogether, instead choosing to nuzzle his nose into your back. Breathing in your scent.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He tiredly confessed.

Through your own exasperated pants of air, you scoffed. Laughing breathlessly at Peter’s unprompted statement.

“Please. Be serious, dude.” You huffed playfully, “You’re not in love with me. You were just really fuckin’ horny, Pietr-...Peter.”

You felt him shake his head, before he buried his nose further into your back. And he hummed in content.

“Mmmmm. No, like, I’m bein’ deadly serious, baby. Totally legit. We shoulda done this wayyyy sooner. Yer really hot ‘n stuff. And yer so cool. And so nice to me all the time…” Peter pulled you tighter against him, “ Call me Pietro again. I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

A pink hue - pink like the lab substance that started this entire, degenerative ordeal - flooded your cheeks. You brought a shaky hand to Peter’s hair, letting your fingers lightly massage his scalp.

“Pietro.~” You teased in a sultry, sing-song voice, “Y’know Hank’s gonna rip you a new one the next time he sees you, right?” The only response you got, were Peter’s soft snores. An echo of the first nap he’d taken since he was a small, troublesome child. Annoyed in the most affectionate of ways, you dropped your head to the pillows. And as carefully as you could, you pulled yourself from Peter’s cuddly grasp. His soft cock withdrew itself from your pussy with your movement. You shuddered, feeling a tingle that raced all the way down to your toes. 

Before tip-toeing to the basement bathroom for a shower, you took one last glance at Peter. Your best friend in the entirety of the expansive cosmos...who also just gave you the best dicking of your life. Lying there peacefully, quietly snoring. Looking a handsome goddamn mess. In his sleep, you noticed his fingers twitch. Another way for his body to expel pent up energy, you guessed.

Leaning over the bed, you placed a feather-light kiss to his forehead.

“Watch where you’re goin’ next time, dipshit.” You whispered with a soft smile.

[nekropsii]

Atomic Ask Bomb 3!!

We got a shorter one this time around! I hope everyone's evening is going well!

Content Warning: Long-ish, Discussions of Ableism + Queerphobia, Weird Cronus Moment™.

Same. I'd read a fanventure about that, I think.

Like, I don't personally believe WV would be allergic to being a mentor or something of a father figure, but I do have to wonder the level to which he was wigged out by the way that Dave and Karkat treat him, because Dave in particular imprints on him in a way that is... Kind of strange.

The later portions of Homestuck really baby WV. It's upsetting.

------

Easy. The actual things wrong with them.

A lot of the discourse surrounding them is fabricated, or has such poor priorities it might as well be fabricated. Most critical conversations about them surrounds things people just made up over the course of years of mythologizing their #Problematicness.

For Example: Most of the discourse surrounding why Horuss had problematic writing had to do with how he was "Bad Otherkin Representation", when the real issue was the fact that Hussie was conflating Being Otherkin with having a Dissociative Disorder, and in turn saying both of them are the exact same level of Fake And Gay for the exact same reason, because to Hussie they were the same thing. To this day, people get startled every time I point out that Horuss is canonically a System despite him bringing it up just as regularly as he does being Therian. Those are totally wack priorities.

------

...That's scary... I don't even have words...

------

LOL. The Lost Weeaboos was a Grade A bit. Thank you Aranea, very cool.

Honestly, I don't even count Cronus as a "facade character", because it's not like he's making any efforts to hide jack shit. It's been... Interesting, watching several people refer to "his facade" lately, when, like... What are they talking about, honestly? He's pretty bold-faced about his whole deal. This isn't really a Dave situation where you could be capable of falling for it when you're younger, because Cronus couldn't be doing a worse job at "hiding" how awful he is. He's not even trying, because he knows he can get away with it. What are the other Alphas gonna do? Leave?

Hope you're having a good time!! The Alpha Trolls may be a Trash Heap, but they are my Trash Heap.

------

There comes a point where it's almost comedic how unaware people are of it... Like, what do you mean you know he's a Horse Therian but not that he's a System? He literally calls himself the Host of a System and talks about Switching. IN THOSE TERMS. He's not even obfuscating it by using some esoteric Troll terminology, he is LITERALLY using the words "Host", "System", and "Switching".

It's painful. I know this is a moment befitting of an XKCD comic, but... Jeez. You'd think these things would both be on the same level of common knowledge, considering how they're traits that are directly related to each other and given equal amounts of screen time, but nope!

Unfortunately, it is a situation where this is relevant. Sad!

------

All characters will become AroSpec and/or ASpec with the help of my Beam Attack.

... Except for Cronus. It's just not funny when it's him. Due to The Themes. It's not fun to headcanon a character as any minority when a huge part of their character is that they pretend to be minorities for Pity Points to eventually cash in for Sex. Ew. Making him literally anything other than Just Cronus plays directly into so many vile Queer stereotypes it's insane. Those are stereotypes that have gotten people actually genuinely killed. Just... Ew. Gross.

------

[ihavemanyhusbands]

The Wine of Your Blood

Also on AO3

A/N: As usual, thank you to G <3

Pairing: Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Father Paul's transformation, he is tormented by a hunger only you can quell.

WC: 5.1k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, vampirism, blood drinking, religious imagery and symbolism (I'm not a religious expert tho I grew up catholic, sorry if I used wrong terms), canon divergence, hierophilia, corruption, graphic depictions of sex and some violence, unprotected sex (do not try at home), cunnilingus, ummm let me know if I missed anything pls!!

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

The silhouette was there again, shrouded in a thick fog that rolled in from the tempestuous sea. It was tall and statuesque, like the guard of some mythical place – monstrous and terrible. Golden light blazed behind it, flickering like an ardent flame. Or like a beacon, slicing through the night’s darkness and calling you home.

You could not see its eyes, and yet you could feel the prickle of an assessing gaze. The siren-like lure was undeniable, and for a moment you could understand why sailors jumped into the sea with total abandon. 

But you were not afraid. You’d seen this apparition for various nights now, like an omen, even if you didn’t really believe in that sort of thing.

The real questions were: What was it presaging?

And why, especially, did it feel so inevitable?

————-

You awoke, as you often did in the late fall, to a gentle rain. As the day progressed, you knew it would grow in intensity, but for now, there was peace and quiet.

You stared at the drops trailing down your window like glistening tears of melancholy. The milky white early morning sky was the same as it ever was, casting a thin, watery light on everything.

When you finally pulled yourself out of bed, you peeked into your grandmother’s room to find her still out, snoring softly. Her breaths no longer sounded like wet, raspy gurgles, which made you sag with abundant relief. 

Sarah had diagnosed her with a mild case of pneumonia the previous week, but even so you knew things could turn for the worse on a whim. Your grandmother was nearing ninety, and while she had always been a sturdy woman, her body could only take so much now.

For a minute, you were seriously starting to consider getting in touch with the new priest, Father Paul, once again to talk last rites. For your grandmother’s sake, you wished Monsignor Pruitt could have performed them, but he was still recovering in the mainland.

But that all would be a problem for another day, given that she was doing much better. 

Still, she had adamantly refused to miss mass, and while she wasn’t strong enough to leave the house, Father Paul had been gracious enough to swing by for a house visit on Sunday.

He seemed like a fine man, soft-spoken, amiable, and welcoming. Not to mention, he had quite a charming way about him, especially when he laughed. Perhaps you shouldn’t be taking notice of that, but you couldn’t help it, despite how conflicted you felt in his presence.

There was something vaguely familiar in his dark eyes you couldn’t place — something that seemed far older, perhaps wiser, but definitely weathered. At times, prolonged eye contact with him seemed daunting, but you attributed it to your general wariness of strangers.

He hadn’t been at Crockett for very long, but you appreciated the effort he seemed to be making with everyone on the island, but especially with your grandmother. There had to be some way you could repay his kindness… perhaps in the form of a homemade treat.

You padded over to the kitchen to make some coffee, rummaging through the cupboards to see if you had all the ingredients to make some banana bread. 

You spent the rest of the morning cooking, your grandmother’s small house warm and permeated with the sweet, enticing smell of baking bread. You got ready after that, making sure your grandmother ate some breakfast and took her medicine before you headed out. 

Gravel crunched under your rain boots as you trudged over to the Monsignor’s house, where Father Paul was currently residing. You nodded in greeting at passerby, stopping only to spare a few words with Leeza Scarborough, who was on her front porch reading.

When you arrived at the house, the curtains were drawn and there seemed to be no lights on inside. You frowned in slight confusion, given that it was past noon. Perhaps he was out and about, but with so few residents on the island, you surely would have seen him.

You stepped up onto his porch, hesitating for a moment before knocking on the door.

“Father Paul?” You called tentatively. 

No answer. You tried knocking again, waiting for another few minutes.

When you were about to give up, you kneeled to set down the tupperware, and the door suddenly opened to reveal Beverly. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing you there and you quickly straightened.

“Oh, Beverly,” you said as a form of greeting. “Sorry, just wanted to drop something off for Father Paul. As a thank you.”

She cleared her throat, hands clasping in front of her. “I’m afraid Father Paul has fallen ill and is currently indisposed for visitors…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said sympathetically, further confused by the slight worry you felt at the news. “I can just give this to you, then. I’ll talk to him when he’s better.”

“How nice of you to do this,”  Beverly smiled tightly, eyebrows raising just a little. “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it, though I’m not sure if his stomach will be able to take it right now… Oh, I just hope it doesn’t go bad.”

You gave her a wry, uncomfortable smile in return. “It’s the thought that counts, right? Erm… I’m just glad he’s got someone to take care of him.”

“He’s in good hands, I assure you,” she nodded. “Mine, and the Lord’s, of course.”

You nodded in return, starting to back away slowly. “Right. Well, can you tell him my grandmother sends her regards?”

“Of course, I will let him know. Good day now.”

And with that, she shut the front door. You shook your head and let out a sigh, glancing only once back at the house as you walked away.

—————

For once, the night was clear. The stars and the waxing moon were visible, keeping you company as you stepped off your porch. The air was fresh and crisp, smelling faintly of petrichor. 

You stretched a little as you looked up at the sky, thanking whoever was up there for letting the rain cease for the time being. It seemed like forever since you’d last been able to go out for a nighttime jog, no one around to talk to or look presentable for. It was the perfect time to clear your mind, now that a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. 

You started down the gravel road, the wind whistling in your ears. Your legs kept a steady rhythm, the old houses of all your neighbors whizzing past your field of vision. You passed by the school and the convenience store, winding away from the main town area towards the harbor. 

The moon’s reflection made the black waves glitter, endless, ominous, and hauntingly beautiful. You stopped for a moment near the pier, looking beyond the water at all the distant lights of the mainland. So close, and yet so far. 

Sure, you yearned for all the mainland had to offer – an entire world that wasn’t just bite-sized, predictable, safe. But you could not yield to those selfish fantasies, not while someone who gave you so much throughout your life now required your help. You closed your eyes and breathed in the salty breeze.

Perhaps someday…

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The familiar voice made you almost jump out of your skin. You whirled around to find Father Paul a few feet behind you, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Maybe you’d been so distracted that you hadn’t heard him approach, but it still felt eerie.

“Oh, I’ve startled you, I’m so sorry,” he said with a nervous chuckle. 

You placed a hand on your chest as if to placate your racing heart. “It’s okay, Father. I just wasn’t really expecting to see anyone, is all.”

“Especially not the priest, right?” he raised an eyebrow, which made you huff in amusement.

“Guess I just thought you didn’t come out at night.”

He smiled lopsidedly, looking down and clearing his throat slightly. “You know, I think I’m becoming more partial to nighttime. I guess you could say I’m an insomniac.”

“All that weight on your conscience?” You said as he approached, standing next to you. 

“Something like that,” he sighed, now looking off into the distance. “Thank you for the bread. It was delicious.”

You shrugged it off modestly. “Grandma’s recipe. I’m just glad she’s right as rain again. Maybe… Your prayers helped. It’s what she insists on, anyway.”

He shook his head, a loose dark curl brushing his forehead. “That’s much too kind of her.”

You assessed his profile for a moment. “How are you feeling, Father? You were out for a few days, too.”

“I definitely needed some fresh air. Now, I’m much better,” he said with a smile, meeting your gaze. “I could not stay cooped in that house any longer. I’m really looking forward to our next mass.”

You said nothing, unsure of how to respond. Despite the fact that you’d grown up religious, you weren’t really practicing anymore. Sometimes you’d accompany your grandmother to sermons, but you often tried to find excuses to skip them.

So far, you had only been to one of Father Paul’s, and you had to admit there was something rapturous about his speeches. They were not only engaging, but the passion behind them was sort of infectious. You even caught yourself leaning forward in your seat, which you quickly corrected. 

It only added to the confusion of how you felt about this man, but such a mystery was undeniably alluring.

“Will you be joining us?” He asked. “No pressure if not, but it’d be nice to see you there.”

“Ah, is that what this is? You’re trying to convert me or something?”

“You’re very clever,” he observed, his grin broadening. “But no, that's not all it is. Part of it, sure, but I don’t want you to miss out on something really special.”

You couldn’t help the slight blush that spread across your cheeks, your heartbeat suddenly spiking once again. His easy, confident smile faltered for a moment, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The bestial hunger that had been tormenting him for days, rendering him weak and sickly, flared inside of him. 

“T-think on it, but like I said, no pressure on my part,” he added quickly, gasping a little as if he lacked air.

You nodded, failing to notice how he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists. His muscles were taut with self-restraint, rooting him to the spot. Luckily, you moved first, taking a step back. 

“Alright, thank you for the invite. Um…I should probably finish my jog and head back home,” you said, gesturing behind you. “Don’t get in too late, Father. You don’t want to catch another cold.”

————

Despite the fact that he was a passionate speaker, you had never seen Father Paul so worked up. 

He started by speaking about eternity and how hard it was to visualize it. The fire inside him was stoked as he spoke of God’s gifts, his miracles and his mysteries. How they were something tangible, something within reach of every grasping hand… even if one couldn’t understand them.

Then the fire turned into a feverish glint in his eyes, his skin paling considerably. He stumbled over his words, pausing to keep nausea at bay. Sweat broke out across his forehead, and he dabbed at it with a handkerchief. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just a little dizzy spell, but I’m fine now.”

Still, he braced his hand on the pulpit. You noticed Beverly was also leaning forward in her seat, ready to spring to action if need be. That was all the confirmation you needed that something was wrong.

But for a moment, as he continued talking, things seemed to settle. You relaxed in your seat, folding your hands on your lap.

“No abstracts. No colorful exaggerations. No. ‘Rebirth’, ‘Second chances’, ‘E-eternal li…’”

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull as his words faded into a shuddery exhale. He collapsed onto the floor, thudding heavily down the steps as the panicked voices of the congregation rose in volume.

Beverly reached him first, of course, but you knelt at his side only moments after. You hadn’t even registered you were running until you got there, cradling his head in your hands.

And even if he was unconscious, you could’ve sworn he leaned closer to your touch.

—---------

It was an audacious plan, you knew that well enough. Still, that clarity didn’t stop you from attempting to go through with it. 

As soon as Sarah Gunning arrived to attend to Father Paul, Beverly had kicked everyone out, holding firm even as you insisted you wanted to stay. Her stubborn will was infuriating, but perhaps also commendable, in a way. You had to bite back a few bitter words as you left, but that didn’t mean you intended to stay away.

You waited for her to leave Father Paul’s house, which didn’t happen until after the sun had set. Even when you couldn’t hear her receding footsteps any longer, you waited a few more minutes before approaching the front door. 

You raised your fist to knock, but the door suddenly opened to reveal a haggard-looking Father Paul. There were dark crescents hanging from his eyes and his skin was so pale it was almost translucent. 

For his sake, you held back from gasping, but he could still see worry written across your features.

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” you said with a small smile. 

“Keen senses,” he said softly. “Would you like to come in?”

You hesitated, despite the fact that a ‘yes’ was on the tip of your tongue. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Gave us a real scare earlier.”

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as if staving off an ache deep within him. In the dim light, you noticed the corners of his lips were a dark red. For a moment you wondered if he’d been drinking the sacramental wine.

“It may not seem like it but… better,” he said, mustering a small smile. “I fear I-I may owe you an explanation.”

“Oh, Father Paul, you don’t…”

“Please, I insist. I can make us some tea, if you’d like,” his voice dropped into the faintest whisper. “Just, stay. Please.”

The desperation in his voice gave you pause. You searched his face for the answer to a question you didn’t dare ask, and perhaps you deluded yourself into believing you found it. 

You nodded, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes. You heard him shuffle about in the kitchen, and you wrung your hands nervously as you glanced around the small, austere rectory. 

This was wholly improper, you knew, but you felt a magnetic sort of pull towards him that was getting harder to resist. It was easy to deny it at first, brushing it off as curiosity and excitement over having a newcomer on the island. 

Most were wary, but you… you wondered if he could be your link to the rest of the world. Your appetite for that dream was only whetted, closer to your fingertips than ever.

“Water’s boiling,” he said as he came into the living room. “Sit, please, make yourself comfortable.”

Obediently, you did as told. There was a palpable tension in the atmosphere that made your skin prickle. He sat across from you, gripping the armrests of the chair as he adjusted himself, unable to find a comfortable position.

“I have to insist that you owe me no explanation, Father. I just worry about your… condition,” you said.

“It’s no ordinary ailment. I think you’ve sensed that already, haven’t you?”

You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this, but willing to listen. 

He continued. “You have witnessed miracles here on the island. Things that you can’t explain and yet are so clear to your eyes. Were you listening to my homily earlier?”

“Yes, Father,” you said, even if you’d only been half-listening. 

But he was speaking the truth, if Leeza Scarborough was any indication. She had risen from her wheelchair just a few days prior, no longer in need of it. Since then, you’d seen other changes around Crockett, some of them more subtle than others. 

You clasped your hands on your lap to keep from moving them. “You mean to say you’ve brought about these miracles?”

He smiled patiently, indulgently. In this light, his eyes seemed darker than you’d ever seen, like two chasms you could get lost in.

“No, not me. God. I am merely a vessel for His glory, and all of the gifts He wishes to impart on us,” he said, leaning forward slightly and resting his forearms on his knees. “On you in particular.” 

“Me?” You blinked, genuinely surprised. “What sort of gift?”

“The gift of life anew. Rebirth. A holy transfiguration, if you will.”

His gaze was fixed on the way your throat worked as you swallowed hard, on edge despite your curiosity being piqued.

“You see, I was visited by an angel. Larger than life, with a greater wingspan than even an albatross. It was utterly magnificent… as well as horrifying. I was afraid at first, of course, for we all fear things that are unknown to us. I was on the brink of death regardless, but see me now, restored, in my prime!”

You frowned, a myriad of questions on the tip of your tongue, but then Father Paul doubled over, clutching his stomach. His dark brows were furrowed from the influx of pain and you instinctively rose to help, but he lifted a hand to stop you.

“But to be reborn, the old self must be destroyed, and thus… and thus it is not an easy road to walk,” he rasped.

You knelt beside him, concerned and abundantly confused all at once. “What do you need? How can I help you ease this pain?”

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, pleading, desperate. Like a wounded animal, almost. You wondered if he, too, might bare his teeth in warning.

“There is this hunger inside of me that I cannot seem to dispel. I-I fear it threatens to consume me,” he swallowed hard, straightening into a sitting position once more. “God asks terrible things of us sometimes, but I cannot help but think this is a test of my strength. My will.”

“I want to help,” you said softly, so softly, daintily placing a hand on his knee. 

But his ears were keen, as he’d said, and he heard you perfectly fine. Still, his eyes – glazed over in pain and hunger and desire – searched yours for any sign of doubt. Instead, he found resolve, as well as a very clear distress at seeing him suffer so much. 

Oh, pious, gentle little lamb. What a good heart you had. The idea that your blood might taste just as sweet made his head spin, his beastly hunger lashing out inside of him.

His hands cradled your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone ever so slightly. You found yourself leaning into his touch, too entranced by him to think objectively about the morality of the whole thing. The charge in the atmosphere changed into something more taut, all too close to snapping.

“You do not know what you are offering,” he said, holding fast to his self-restraint even as his mouth watered. 

“Maybe you could show me, then.”

A slight chuckle escaped his lips at your eagerness, one of his hands leaving your face to pat his thigh. “Come, would you like to sit here? Perhaps I shall whisper it in your ear.”

You started to lift yourself, but then hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as I’ll ever be of anything, my dear,” he assured, his smile momentarily taking on a certain edge, like that of a wolf’s.

You situated yourself on his legs gingerly, closer to his knees, but he brazenly grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. You gasped, a tingle forming between your shoulder blades and slowly crawling down your spine.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he relished the feeling, his arms circling your waist to keep you from squirming. “I hope you didn’t catch a fever from me.”

“I-I didn’t realize this was the sort of hunger you were referring to, Father,” you said tremulously, more heat sparking in your lower abdomen.

He traced his nose against the bare skin of your arm. “Not quite, but it’s making your heart race, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept to your cheeks, silently willing your heart to slow as it hammered insistently against your ribcage. Tenderly, he brushed your hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck. Instinctively, you tilted your head back, showing more of it. 

He hummed in approval, licking his lips. “Here, just a little taste first.”

He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his face. He kissed the tip of your index finger before taking some of it into his mouth. His inky black eyes held your gaze as you suddenly felt a painful prick on your digit that made you gasp once more. 

He groaned softly, holding your wrist as he lapped at the thin rivulet of blood. The mere sight paralyzed you for a moment, but it’d be a lie to say it didn’t make your cunt throb. 

And to make matters worse, the small rush of shame that followed this realization only seemed to turn you on more. Without thinking, you raked your free hand in his hair, tugging his head towards you. 

“Do it,” you rasped, your tone dangerously close to begging. “Please.”

“God bless you,” he said deliriously, clasping you tighter against his chest. “Oh, God bless you. I-I want to make it good for you, too.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and letting out another weak sound at your dizzying warmth. You shuddered and he scented a small note of fear as you tightened your grip on his hair. He shushed softly, soothingly, his lips ghosting over a quivering vein.

When his teeth first pierced the sensitive flesh, you let out a pained mewl as all of your muscles seized. Then — as fast as it had come — the pain vanished and you went slack against him. Stars danced in your vision as you felt the vibration of his groan against your throat.

Every single one of your nerve endings was alight with pleasure, which only seemed to grow in intensity.

Without you really noticing, your hips rocked back and forth, clothed cunt dragging against his leg in short, desperate movements that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. He gripped one of your hips tightly, guiding your movements with urgency.

In the kitchen, the kettle started whistling loudly just as an orgasm hit you like a freight train, rattling your very bones. You felt yourself melting in a way you never had before, toeing the line between life and death. You’d have gladly gone to heaven in that moment – or hell, for that matter – if fate so decided. He held you steady throughout, running a soothing hand up and down your spine.

Just when exhaustion began to creep in from the blood loss, he painstakingly pulled away, his mouth stained crimson. He looked drunken and dazed, like he was caught in between dreams. But he also seemed less frail, and definitely more alert, pupils fully dilated. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, gazing at you adoringly. Reverently, even. 

Diligently, he lapped at the weeping puncture wounds. His lips left a smear behind as he kissed your collarbone, hands ripping at your blouse to expose more flesh. Panting, you tried to undo the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers, but he stopped you.

“Lovely, eager thing. We’ll get there. Let me take care of you first,” he murmured against your sternum. 

He tore any garment that stood in his way fervently, until you were practically naked in his lap. Your back arched, taut as a bow, as he continued leaving sanguine kisses in his wake. He hauled you into his arms with preternatural strength as he stood up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you into his bedroom, laying you down on the bed gently. 

There, standing over you, he seemed every bit the statuesque figure that plagued your dreams.  His eyes glinted in the half-dark,  reflecting the moonlight spilling in through the window. He sank to his knees as if preparing for prayer, his grin hungry as he hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“Come here, little lamb. My most precious sacrifice. My hunger for you has not nearly been sated,” he said, licking his lips. “I am yet to make a feast of you.”

A kiss on your navel that had you shaking all over again. If you had come so hard without so much as a caress, you couldn’t imagine the delirium of his mouth where you ached for it most. Perhaps then, you would truly cross the line for good. 

He discarded the last garment covering you, revealing your glistening, slippery cunt for his appraisal.  He made an agonized sound, ducking his head immediately to kiss your inner thigh. The tip of his tongue traced your skin just a little bit, getting a taste of your divine essence. 

He knew then and there that he was utterly lost; That he would no longer know a  greater devotion than this. What a perfect altar for him to worship you, the cradle of your thighs.  It took all of his willpower not to sink his teeth into your femoral artery and drain you further, until all of your blood mingled with his. 

Another day, perhaps, when you’d recovered some.

Instead, he finally licked a long, languid stripe through your soaked folds. With a low moan, his mouth latched onto your overly sensitive bundle of nerves, making your entire body jerk. He gripped your thighs harder as you squirmed, your fingers burying in his dark curls and holding on for dear life.

You hadn’t expected him to be so good at it, but then again, it was a night of surprises. Not that you could ever complain, anyway. Your wanton moans only encouraged him further, his lips and tongue and even the slightest graze of his teeth making you buck and arch on the mattress. 

Once more, you felt a tidal wave begin to form, making your breath come out in sharp little exhales. But you didn’t want to let go again quite yet, at least not like this, with so much distance between your bodies.

You resorted to pleading, attempting to pull his head back. “F-Father wait, please, I want—”

“Don’t hold back from me,” he urged hoarsely, between licks. “Come on, give me one more. I’ll reward you doubly, I promise.”

You began to protest once more, but with an expert swirl of his tongue, the wave finally crested. Violently crashing against the rocks of your sanity. Your eyes searched for heaven again at the back of your head, mouth falling slack in rapture. He made sure you rode it all the way through, softly murmuring praises.

You lay there spent, chest heaving with great, deep breaths. He chuckled, both amused and inexplicably fond at the sight of you so undone. He pulled back to make quick work of his clothes, smears of dry blood further darkening his black shirt.

“I fear you might be turning me into a glutton,” he said, removing his collar and setting it down on the nightstand. 

Your eyes trailed his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt, and you gave him a weak, teasing smile. “You are not the only insatiable creature here, Father.”

“I see that now,” he grinned, his canines all too sharp. “What a great gift He has bestowed upon me, bringing you here.”

His jeans were next to go, merely kicked to one side, and his body slid over yours in a warm embrace. Then finally, mercifully, his lips found yours in a slow, searing kiss. It was the last piece missing from the puzzle that connected you; The last nail on the coffin of your fate.

You tasted yourself on his tongue,  moaning into his mouth as you cupped the back of his head. Ankles crossed behind his back, pressing down, silently urging him closer. He guided himself into you, moving slowly so you could get used to the stretch. There was a growl low in his throat as he bottomed out, and his kiss became fiercer. Possessive, even.

The only sound in the dimly lit room was that of flesh slapping together lewdly as he quickened his pace, your sharp breaths and wistful sighs. The way he whispered your name like a prayer as he nearly dissolved with passion. It was then that you broke the kiss, tilting your head to the side as his lips chased yours in a dreamlike, desperate state. You shifted, baring your throat for him to ravage once more.

“Just like this,” you murmured, eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones as you readied yourself. “I’m yours.”

“Only a little more,” he promised, kissing the base of your neck before tracing his way up with his nose. 

A gasp, and then you were submerged in that languid, morphine state. Ecstasy hit him like lightning, and he was no longer able to hold back. He trembled against you as he came, crushing you tighter to him, buried to the hilt. You felt heat flooding you as he sealed the puncture wounds again, lips finding yours right after.

He rolled off of you only to tuck you both in, drawing you close and kissing the top of your head. His onyx eyes scanned your beatific features, wonder and amazement written all over his own. 

“The night suits you, my dear,” he said, wiping strands of your hair away from your sweat-dotted face. “Perhaps it would be less lonesome with you around...” 

He seemed truly vulnerable in that moment, smaller, entirely human. Eyebrows pinched together in consternation, lips pursed with some guilt at his actions. You snuggled even closer, leeching off his body heat. If anything, seeing this side of him, complex and familiar in a way you instinctively understood, reassured you.

“Will you take my hand and guide me through it?” You asked, voice low and wistful.

He nodded, lacing his fingers through yours. “Through the valley of the shadow of death and beyond. There is still so much for you to see,  and the gift of time is at our disposal. Isn’t that a lovely thought?”

Yes, yes it was. Comforting enough to finally drift into dreams of the stars beyond the horizon.

[frankencanon]

One Piece Theory Regarding the Vinsmokes' Genetic Modifications — Specifically Their Eyebrows

(Hopefully this hasn't been done already...)

Hypothesis:

Vinsmoke Judge's research into Human Modification involved Devil Fruits. Specifically, he was trying to give his children Devil Fruit abilities without drawbacks such as a weakness to water and Seastone/Kairōseki.

Evidence:

Please take note of the image above. Notice any common denominators...? That's right, you guessed it — swirls! Every single fruit has swirls on it, whether on the body of the fruit itself or on the stem. And you know what else has swirls? The Vinsmoke siblings' eyebrows. In fact, if you look at certain fruits (such as the Gomu, Hana, Awa, Mochi, Bijo, and Ope fruits) you will notice that the stems look literally identical to the siblings' eyebrows. Coincidence? I think not!

Most of the siblings seem to each possess a unique ability that their fellow siblings do not share, almost as if they'd each eaten different Devil Fruits; Reiju has "Poison Pink" (poison fruit?), Ichiji has "Sparking Red" (spark fruit?), and Yonji has "Winch Green" (winch fruit???).

Thanks to Caesar Clown and his SMILE fruits, we know that it's canonically possible for a person to artificially replicate the effects of a Devil Fruit.

Caesar's faulty fruits lacked the distinct swirls present on actual Devil Fruits; Thus, there is likely a connection between the lack of swirls, and the fact that the SMILE fruits are faulty.

[Spoiler Alert for Chapters 698 and 840] Both Judge and Caesar based their scientific experiments on the "Lineage Factor" (referred to as the "blueprint of life itself, present in all living organisms") that was discovered by both Vegapunk and Judge working together — without it, neither the Vinsmokes' genetic modifications nor Caesar's SMILEs would have been possible. In other words, their experiments are intrinsically linked with one another.

[Spoiler Alert for Chapters 1077-1078] Vinsmoke Judge and Caesar Clown, both previously members of MADS — an illegal scientific research institute headed by Vegapunk himself — have recently joined forces to create their own organization which they have dubbed NEO MADS. Why is this relevant? Because if you consider the previous points of evidence... Caesar Clown has succeeded in creating faulty, mock Devil Fruits that are lacking the swirls characteristic of real Devil Fruits. Vinsmoke Judge has succeeded in creating genetically modified humans with superhuman abilities who possess swirly eyebrows reminiscent of Devil Fruits. Caesar has the fruits, Judge has the swirls... Combine them, and you just might get a fully functional artificial Devil Fruit.

...Okay, that got a bit away from there.

But what I was trying to say is that I believe the swirly eyebrows to be related to Devil Fruits since (1) they both have similar swirls, and (2) because I know that Judge and Caesar have recently teamed up, and the only thing that was missing from Caesar's SMILEs (visually, at least) was the swirls.

Creator of Non-Swirly Fruit + Creator of Swirly Eyebrows = Creation of Swirly Fruit. Yes?

Yes.

Also relevant: [Spoiler Alert for Chapter 1007] Apparently Dr. Vegapunk was able to create a mostly-but-not-totally-successful replica of a Devil Fruit — the Uo Uo no Mi, Model: Seiryu — that was unintentionally eaten by Momonosuke.

He was only able to do this thanks to his knowledge of the Lineage Factor, and access to Kaidou's own.

In other words!

TL;DR:

The creation of artificial Devil Fruits and the genetic modification of the Vinsmoke siblings are intrinsically linked via the Lineage Factor.

Because of this, I believe that Judge's genetic modifications and experiments on his children involved Devil Fruits in some way, shape, or form — and that is why their eyebrows swirl like the stems of Devil Fruits.

[i3utterflyeffect]

I would like to hear these thoughts you say you have about Alexcrafter?

OKAY this is probably insane but hear me out: alex is literally one of the few people who have ever seen ACTUAL LIVING STICK FIGURES outside of videos because uhhhhhh

this might have just been because alan didn't think anyone would pay that much attention during the pigstep fight (which is fair, the fight's sick as hell)

but they're all listed as like. fictional. completely fictional.

so my theory is that PEOPLE DON'T FUCKING KNOW THEY'RE REAL. as far as most people know it's just like real life; it's just a not-living animation.

i assume the animator wouldn't show any behind-the-scenes videos unlike Alan, but the only people who realizes that this is real is a few artists and animators...

The people who Alan messages about it...

And Alex.

Although now that i look at the messages from AVA 2 there's. extremely concerning implications to what 021 says.

ANYWAY. There is totally a possibility that the other mercs are convinced they're just keeping the peace because of this!!! an entrance into their world is a very very dangerous thing and i don't think yellow realized that. so if alan hadn't been there this could have been avoided but unfortunately there probably wasn't any way it'd turn out well if he didn't intervene

anyway thank you you just made me look up some stuff that made me think about this theory harder and originally it was just because it was funny but now i'm. hm. i'm considering this may be canon

[zmediaoutlet]

hey i saw your post about ao3 house style and i can totally relate to it, so i thought maybe you could share some wincest fic recs? please and thank u 🙏

you know what bud, I will indeed share some wincest fic recs bc you should rec the stuff that is good and leave the crud in the dust, right? Right. So -- here are uhh a number of recs as they occur to me, which actually read like a person wrote them instead of an AO3-trained algorithm of some kind. Plus I only rec stuff if I actually like it so consider these Z Certified or something.

The Fremont Street Experience by @nigeltde-fic -- a quick 1200 words that's a fizzing jolt of champagne right under the heart. New love that's just bursting with all that could be. Anticipation fizzes in Dean's veins, dances in his fingertips. The sand shimmers, hazes, glitters. There's so much sky. It pours into the road at the horizon. -- see?

Miles Ahead by @egipci -- a fully-formed entirely real paragraph of 750 words in which we see Sam Winchester in all his want and wanting, and I want to crawl inside the narrative presented and live there year-round. You were pretending to sleep and every once in a while a car would pass by and the headlights would fill up the inside of the car like midday and then I would look at you out the corner of my eye. All the way I thought about Mexico and you there sunburnt. -- I mean my god.

Countdown by @mollyamory-again -- another tight 1200 of just a normally-tense night that dissolves in sweet established-vibes intimacy. Brothers who feel like brothers and also an earned and real -- not hotness exactly but just adults who have sex who act and think like adults, which is not as common as you'd hope! His fingers skate over Dean's skin in lazy patterns; they find their old places, and Dean shoves up to meet them, asking for more and getting more all at once. Sam missed him, Sam wants him; Sam is here, so they can do this, Dean wants so badly to do this.

Four Winters: I by @lindencypressbirch, who got deleted and so we'll just call her Linden. Stretching all the way up to 4700 words this time, Linden takes us through a godawful piece of shit of a day in which Dean Winchester Is Handling It, until of course he isn't -- but he is, because he has to, because what other choice is there? This one does a great job of showcasing the misery without lingering on it in a maudlin or tedious way. There's just the job, and then the next job after. After another moment or two he scrubbed a hand over his wet face and went looking for his thermos, and the last of the cold coffee it held. Because they had power now, yes, but there was no telling whether they would have power later, and as they were clearly not going to be going anywhere for a few days, he had work to do before it maybe went.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez, which is allll the way up to 7k and retains interest throughout. The big strength in this one is that Sam is competent, steady, believable-from-canon Sam when we get so much over-the-top meathead jerk or simpering babyboy who reads 15 when he's mean to be 40. I'm just blown over by all that SAM. This fic is really about Dean's misery in s7 but it's dealt with pragmatically, almost implacably; more ott than the show went on some details, but the overall vibe is nevertheless: they will get through it because this is who they are. I appreciate that always and forever. He's the one with the secret, now. He hadn't meant it to be that way. But Sam asked Dean to trust him, and Dean said okay because he was sorry for using the F-word. Sorry for putting that look on Sam's face, for making him feel like a freak, the way he hadn't been for laying him out with his fist. It's ridiculous, how he still folds like a house of cards where Sam's concerned, no matter how many times he's told himself he won't do it again. But now he's stuck with the lie, and has no one to blame but himself.

That's probably enough to be going on with. If you read these, please leave a comment to tell the author that you appreciate their work, because it should be appreciated.

[thebiballerina]

Suggestions for More Varied Polyamorous Ship Tournaments

For me, half the fun of fandom-focused brackets is to learn about media that people are passionate about, maybe even ones that you are totally unfamiliar with. While I love Leverage (2008) with all my heart, it has gotten a little repetitive to see Hardison/Parker/Eliot win or place in so many OT3 or polyamory poll tournaments (at least five that I know of—see footnote), when I know there are so many interesting polyamorous ships out there. Since I understand the appeal of the H/P/E OT3 and I know Leverage fans will be dedicated no matter what, I propose that it could be helpful (and fun) to see a wider variety in types of polyamory poll tournaments. After all, there are many different ways that fans might consider a ship to be "best".

Thus I have developed a list of suggestions (thank you @doctorbeverlycrusher and @mary-louise4760 for your assistance here). This includes a mix of aspects that a ship can be ranked as "best" in, and specific ship dynamics. Feel free to ask for clarification or examples of any of the list items, add your own suggestions, and use these as inspiration for poll tournaments. (Some of these might need to be combined/altered to get enough potential contestants.)

Aspects/Dynamics to Rank Polycules By

"Do not separate them.": It is difficult to imagine any relationship within the group without the whole set being involved, whether romantically or queerplatonically. e.g. Many fans say this is why they would favor the Leverage OT3 over other polyamorous ships.

"Please do separate them.": Two or more partners should keep other partners firmly in-between them at all times. Keeping the polycule together is essential to continued civil interaction.

Rejection of canon love triangle/infidelity: Fandom took one look at that plotline and said, "No way. They have two hands." Or whatever the equivalent statement is when one runs out of hands for applicable partners.

Shipping Wars: The best resolution. Fixes many things.

Shipping Wars: The best non-resolution. Fixes nothing, but is good anyway.

Shipping Wars: Worst but technically effective resolution. Fixes the war, but creates new issues.

Shipping Wars: The funniest resolution. May overlap with some of the above three.

In-Universe Wars (or Conflict/Politics): The best resolution. Diplomatic!

In-Universe Wars: The best non-resolution. Undiplomatic!

In-Universe Wars: Worst but technically effective resolution. Diplomatic with respect to this issue, but also creates new ones.

Unexpected package deal: Essentially, the opposite of the identity porn trope where someone has feelings for multiple people that turn out to be a single person.

Seduction plans rapid-pivot: e.g. Sometimes your plans require seducing someone that turns out to be happily in a relationship, so clearly the only choice is to seduce both them and their partner.

Jealousy plot rapid-resolution: Sometimes you think someone will be angry or jealous about you having feelings for or ending up in an encounter with someone they also have feelings for, but they are very much not upset. Maybe even the opposite of upset.

Fake relationship rapid-resolution: Life hack! Turn the fake/arranged partner(s) into additional real partner(s). Often a subset of the above bullet point.

Hands-on instruction: So dedicated to helping their friend with romance/sex that they end up demonstrating. Thoroughly.

Couples (or established polycule) bonding exercise: We can fix them. Or make them worse. Or just seduce them.

Couples (or established polycule) unbonding exercise: Have you ever seen a couple mildly argue about how one of them caught up on a TV show alone when they were supposed to be watching it together? This, but with seduction.

Organization/scheduling proficiency: Have you ever tried to handle finding overlaps between multiple schedules? It's difficult. So I think there should be a competition for polycules that handle that best.

Sneak attack potential: "What's this? It's their third, with the steel chair!"

Heist crew

Band: This one can work for many different sizes of polycules, if you are flexible with the type of music group.

Ship^2: The ship crew. Works for ocean ships, starships, airships, and any other varieties.

Witch coven or assorted magical circle

Supernatural leaders: e.g. vampire colony, fairy council, werewolf pack where the alpha wolf only exists as much as it does in real wolves, etc.

Competition champions: The ideal team. Could be sports. Could be trivia night. Could be that they are just killing it at karaoke.

Competition contestants that somehow make everyone lose

Accidental legal polygamy: They weren't trying to all end up legally intertwined, but untangling that seems more effort than it is worth.

Canon co-parents: A canon plot means a kid has 3+ parents or parental figures. The ship writes itself.

"It takes a village," ("and the village takes each other"): One child (or set of children) takes so much wrangling that the polycule is just efficient.

Most awkward stepparent(s) configuration

Most chaotic potential family gatherings: e.g. In-laws who have to awkwardly try to get along when they hate each other, now with even more in-laws!

Best pet owners: Sometimes joint custody of a pet is a lot of work, and consolidation is ideal.

Using These Suggestions

All are welcome to use these ideas, altered or unaltered, in your own poll tournaments/games. No additional permission is required, though I would appreciate it if you linked this post somewhere on the poll blog, so others can find it. Also, if you let me know you have a tournament along these lines (whether directly inspired by this list or not), I will be happy to give you a shout out in the notes.

Footnote

Here are the poll tournaments I'm referencing when I say Leverage's H/P/E has won or placed in five that I know of.

Champions

@powerpolyculeshowdown (2023-03-09): Won in the final against Yoo Jonghyuk/Han Sooyoung/Kim Dokja from Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint.

@polyam-ship-showdown (2023-02-28): Won in the final against Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler/Jack Harkness from Doctor Who.

@throuple-tournament (2024-04-04): Won in the final against Thanatos/Zagreus/Megaera from Hades and Nathan/Vlad/Ursula from Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites.

Placed

@ot3showdown (2023-05-12): Runner-up, lost in the final 49%-51% to Kirk/McCoy/Spock.

Ongoing

@bestpolyshipbracket: Currently in the final round, so H/P/E will either be in second or first place.

[quirkwizard]

Keystone-Ranking My Hero's Academia's Arcs

To All my Friends and Followers, I am proud again to announce another double milestone. Not only have I reached over 10,000 total posts on this blog, but I have reach over 3,000 followers. Who would have guessed this little blog I made for fun would have made it this far? Because I am frankly flabbergasted that this blog has made it this point. I thank all of you for your support and truly wish that I can make this blog something worthy of your dedication. For this momentous milestone, I once again decided to do a massive project. This time, it will be ranking all the arcs of My Hero Academia.

So before I begin, let's cover some ground rules:

-What I will be considering an arc, as well as where it starts and ends, will be defined by the Wikia, making for a total of twenty one arcs.

-This will mainly be focusing on the manga. While I will mention the anime here and there, it will not play any major role in how I rank these arcs.

-This ranking will be relative to the rest of the series. So if I put an arc lower on the list, I'm not saying it's the worst manga as a medium has to offer, just not up to the standards of the series.

-This will be a series of pros and cons covering each of the series with some notes. This will involve a lot of generalizations and summarizations of points, as well as maybe skipping out on what I don't have much to say, but is the easiest way to get my thoughts across.

-This will be looking at the arcs without the context of later ones. I will review the arcs on their own and will only consider what has happened before in the story when that arc came out. That means that certain events will not "ruin" arcs retroactively, but can be held against the arc they happen in.

-The Final War Arc will not be covered here. Not only because that arc is not completed at the time or writing, but is far longer then any other arc in the story and has so much to cover with it, feeling like there are several arcs going on all at once. Even if it was done, I would still cover it on it's own.

Without further ado: the ranking of My Hero Academia's Arcs.

Stars and Stripes Arc: (0/10)

-This entire arc is built around Cathleen, a one note character that doesn't have any interesting traits or arc. She was never established before, even when she should matter to characters like All For One and is suddenly the most important hero currently active.

-My worst fears are confirmed that Tomura is nothing more than a meat puppet for All For One. All his unique traits and character is under lock and key for this entire arc, leaving us with a very bland villain that I have no interest in reading.

-The whole fight is a forgone conclusion. Tomura can't lose because he's the main antagonist who is next to unkillable and he can't get "New Order" because then he would be way too powerful to beat, robbing the arc of any tension it tries to have.

-The fight itself is not interesting, which is a problem when most of this is a fight. It's Tomura getting ragdolled over and over again while Stars and Stripes keeps using her Quirk in a lot of empty spectacle. No real cleaver plans, just slapping each other back and forth.

-All these factors together rob any emotional investment a reader may have had in the story. So in spite of it only being seven chapters long, it feels like a total slog to get through, simply waiting for canonical filler arc to be done with so we can move on.

-"New Order" is a slap in the face to the entire power system. It's such a vaguely defined ability with what it can actually apply with its rules. It felt more like Tomura was fighting a wizard from a whole other series, adding on to the various frustrations in this fight.

-The main consequences could have been replaced with a single chapter. Just have Tomura writhing in a cave over his body rejecting "All For One" and have Nezu analyze and pick up information on him from the footage of the PLF War. It would have been so simple.

-The actual consequences of this arc are minimal at best. You could honestly skip this arc and not really miss much in the grand story of the series. Again, making it feel like a filler arc. It makes this whole outing seem wholly pointless in the broader narrative.

=I've said my peace on this arc many times over. I struggle to think of anything good about it. It was a chore to read the first time and it took so much willpower to not turn this into another giant rant. I honestly hope I never have to go through or think about this arc again.

Tartarus Escapees Arc: (1/10)

+I like the idea of this arc. Having Izuku regress into his self-destructive tendencies and isolating himself is a really good way to go with his low point. And this is well conveyed in the art, both in and out of costume, which I just want to is really solid this arc.

+Uraraka's speech was certainly a highlight. It's a great moment in her own arc about understanding and wanting to truly save people and gives her the relevance she has so desperately needed. Ending it with the narration of everyone being a hero was a good bit.

+I liked a lot of the bits with Stain, especially his talk with Toshinori. Having Stain, the man who misunderstands All Might the most, gives him the peep talk he needs to get out of his funk.

-The reaval of "Fa Jin" was such a massive miss for me. Not only does it not add anything to Izuku's arsenal outside of hitting even harder, it undermines one of the most interesting fights the series has had thus far by overpowering his enemy rather than outthinking them.

-There is little lasting consequences for some of the characters. Endeavor is an abuser that made a serial killer and Hawks killed a villain in front of everyone. They both say they're getting work done and everyone kind of moves on from it without issue.

-The concept of Izuku cutting off everyone around him, while interesting, wasn't anywhere near fleshed out enough. It's only a single chapter of him on his own before he's saved by the rest of Class 1-A. Kind of makes the arc's name feel like a misnomer.

-Bakugou's apology feels rather hollow given the actual phrasing and the lack of any kind of real response for Izuku. This extends to All Might, but to a lesser degree. These two are the most responsible for Izuku self-destructive mentality and it is quickly brushed to the side.

=Another arc that I've talked about before, but none of the good parts of. I think it's well above something like the Stars and Stripes up, but it's lack of real payoff for so much that was set up really shoots this all the way to the bottom of the list.

Quirk Apprehension Test Arc: (1/10)

+Aizawa has a solid character introduction and effectively sets him up. What seems to be a lazy bum actually hides one of the most strict and dedicated heroes in the entire series. A seemingly rough, pragmatic disciplinarian with a secretly good heart underneath.

+Having Izuku need to work under Aizawa was such a good move for his first day. He really learns just how much of a problem his power is going to be and how much personal responsibility a hero has. It's a good splash of cold water to Izuku's relentless optimism.

+This is the arc where we get Izuku taking on the name Deku. Not only is the moment around it cute and gives us his official nickname, but I like how it starts the trend of Izuku redefining his life, taking the mocking nickname, and making it the name of a real hero.

-The arc is strictly business, for lack of a better phrase. We don't get much expansion on the characters we know about or understanding of the other characters or their powers in spite of the fact that this test would have been the perfect place to introduce them to us.

-All it really has going for it is the one moment of Izuku throwing the softball with his finger. The ultimate, emotional climax is a character flinging a ball really far. I know that sounds like I'm being facetious, but there isn't a lot else happening in the arc worth talking about.

-We do get the early main trio of Izuku, Iida, and Uraraka interacting, but there isn't enough to go off of to get a real sense of their dynamic and characters outside of the basic traits we already established. Maybe how they view each other as people, but that’s about it.

-While the threat of expulsions is threatening for the characters, it's pretty empty from a meta perspective. We know that if Izuku was expelled, the series would be over. The reveal of the test being a ploy does give Aizawa some character, but makes it feel a little pointless.

-In the end, I'm not entirely sure what the point of the arc was. At least, enough to make it its own standalone story. Sure, Izuku develops the finger flicks, but that could have been shuffled to one of the other two arcs after this one and it would be fine.

=An arc that's ultimately a victim of its length. If it was tied into the arc proceed or succeeding it, it would have been fine. On its own, it doesn't really offer much value. I still think it has its points, but not enough to reach past this lull in the series.

Remedial Course Arc: (2/10)

+The interaction between All Might and Endeavor was great. Yeah, a lot of people forget that happened this arc. Endeavor is uncertainty of what to do and turning to his rival is good in it's own right and works as a good springboard for Enji's arc going forward.

+The other character work was fine as well. Bakugou learning to be less of jerk to people as he learns to deal with a younger version of himself is nice. The Shoto, and to a lesser extent Inasa, stuff wasn't as prevalent, but I think it's a good steppingstone in his character.

+I like the one-off chapter with Aoyama and how he connects himself to Izuku and how much their Quirks can cause issues. Giving a minor character like this a one-off chapter like this is a good way to flesh out these characters without taking up too much time.

-Speaking of important stuff, this arc introduces the Quirk Singularity. For what turns out to be such an important idea, I don't think it does the best job building the groundwork. Like there wasn't enough set up to it before or in this arc for it to make sense.

-This arc is very much removed from the rest of the story. I wouldn't mind that but doesn't really give us much in its place. Outside of the few bits I mentioned before with Bakugou and Endeavor, it doesn't feel like it adds much else to the world or story.

-A lot of this arc is more comedic. If the comedy doesn't work with you, it's going to wear down on you fast. Outside of one or two bits, I found myself stone faced at a lot of the gags. Which is really odd because I do think Hori can do comedy, but it's not done well here.

-These two issues create this odd back and forth with the arc. The interesting moments are either small or side pieces while the actual meat of the story feels superfluous. So it can be frustrating to read through this when all the good feels so buried under everything.

-Which I think leads to the biggest sin of the arc: it's so forgettable. Out of all the arcs I went over, it's the least I remember about, not even long after rereading it. Despite having some pretty important moments, I just mentally gloss over it.

=This arc gets a lot of hate, and I get it. It does feel like a pretty low stakes arc where a lot of aspects can grate on people. I can't muster much bile for it, and I still think that there are some redeemable moments here, but certainly earning a spot this low on the list.

Joint Training Arc: (2/10)

+I really liked a lot of the new Quirks on display. I think a lot were pretty neat, or at least unique enough to be intriguing. Plus seeing some of the Quirks interact across both classes makes for some fun moments and dynamics between the various characters in play.

+I do like some of the minor pieces of character we do get. Tokoyami's flashback about controlling Dark shadow, Shoto using both halves of his power, a beat in Momo gaining confidence again, and Monoma's backstory reveal are all solid parts of this arc.

+Round 3 is a major highlight of this arc. A tense battle where it feels like each character is giving it their all with sheer power or clever planning. It feels like such a big battle that is constantly changing, ultimately ending in a surprising, but satisfying payoff of a draw.

-This arc is too long for its own good. Over twenty-four chapters of characters engaging in a consequence free training exercise where the plot isn't really developing outside of a handful of moments. It really wears down on you fast, especially week to week.

-As for these fights, I think a lot of them are pretty mediocre. Whether it be because of the low stakes, the lack of real emotional moments, or simply how the Quirks are used, I found it difficult to really invest in the fights. That is a big issue when most of the arc is fighting.

-Outside of Monoma and Juzo, there is very little in the way of meaningful development for Class 1-B in this arc. And if there was any point in developing these characters, this would be the time. It feels wasted, making the characters feel more like vessels for the powers.

-I really don't like the Round 4 fight. What comes across as Bakugou's big development rights hollow. Not only is the other side kneecapped to make Bakugou look better, but it doesn't really feel like Bakugou learned how to actually work with other people on this.

-To this day, I still have mixed feelings on the "Black Whip" reveal. I don't mind the concept of Izuku with multiple Quirks, but it wasn't built up enough to make this a worthwhile pay off. It seems more like Hori did this in because he ran out of ideas for what to do with Izuku.

=While I certainly don't think this is the worst arc, I can wholly understand why people are so frustrated with this arc as it was happening. There's very little in the way of plot or characters, so it ends up feeling like it drags out too long for its own good.

Provisional License Exam: (3/10)

+I like a lot of the world building in this arc. This whole rescue operation part of the test really shows just how important the non-fighting parts of hero work are, like how you act around civilians, which helpfully sets up how things are headed post All-Might.

+I liked Inasa. His design is great, his power is cool, and he has such a fun personality that you can't help but want to see him. His role is interesting as well, having Shoto's worry about being like his father externalized in someone who sees him only as Endeavor's son.

+I enjoy a lot of the development with the class. Things like the Super Moves, the dorms, and the bits spread throughout the arc does a lot to flesh them out. Obviously, the biggest bit is with Izuku and Bakugo, their battle showing how much them and their dynamic changed.

-The arc is not paced that well. This section is twenty-three chapters long, but it feels so much longer with how everything drags on and not a lot of interesting stuff is happening in them until the very end of the story, whether that be with the fights or the characters.

-The fights aren’t that amazing. It’s not that interesting to see 1-A fight a bunch of jobbers. And when they do fight more prevalent characters, I don’t feel engaged with it. A lot of the action are resolutions to the fights aren’t clever or have a lot the emotional impact they usually do.

-The new characters aren't that well developed, even as far as one-off characters go. Aside from Inasa, there's barely anything to go off of for them. It feels less like an expanded cast from all these schools and more like bloat that Hori didn't know what to do with.

-As much as I like Inasa, I think his whole thing with Shoto is kind of dumb. Like Inasa somehow carries this undying grudge against Shoto and his father because both of them look angry at him. And the resolution ends up being rushed in spite of the focus it gets.

-While I do praise Izuku vs Bakugou, I recognize that it's focused way too much on Bakugou. This feels like it should be doing something for both of them, but a lot of the attention in and out of story is on Bakugou, making it feel incomplete and diminishing Izuku's role.

=For all the buildup of these characters becoming heroes, them pulling it off seems… underwhelming. Which honestly feels like a good way to describe a lot of this arc. A lot of potential for something big and impactful that just didn't stick the landing.

UA Traitor Arc: (3/10)

+The traitor reveal was handled so well. The reveal and backstory were great and I think adds a lot to Aoyama's character. He wasn't an evil pawn, but a terrified kid who was forced into a deal outside his control, now horrified over the safety of himself and his family.

+The villains had some good moments. A lot of it is set up for next arc, but Toga and Spinner especially had the most interesting bits here, with Toga expressing her complicated past and feelings while Spinner is pushed into a role he never wanted for his friend.

+I enjoy the bit with Izuku and Urakara near the end of the arc. It honestly refreshing see these two connecting with each other again and what they talk about is solid stuff, trying to come to terms with their own conflicts feelings about wanting to save the villains.

-In spite of my liking of the reveal, it's far too late. Aoyama's actions as the traitor haven't been a factor pretty much since Kamino onward. So when this reveal comes, it doesn't have the emotional weight it feels like it needs, especially for such a minor character.

-There's very little fall out for Aoyama being the traitor. Besides how it's entirely beneficial for the heroes, no one else really reacts to it and there isn't any fallout. Not even Bakugou, the students most affected by it. It makes 1-A feel like a hive mind rather than their own people.

-In fact, a lot of this arc relies on the reader still being invested in the arc, Aoyama as a character, and there being this powerful bond between whole of the class. There's a lot riding on the emotional core which hasn't been set up as well throughout the rest of the story.

-There are some residual frustrations from the Dark Hero Arc. In spite of all the major moves the last arc did, there is barely any follow up on most or anything with the characters taking a break. We're skipping all that for more training and getting right to the next plot point.

-The villain stuff was good but did suffer from some clunkiness. I didn't really feel like it told us anything new and what it did add felt confusing at points. Did you know that Tomura and Spinner were best friends? I didn't know Tomura liked the guy.

=So I feel like I'm one of the few people that actually like how Aoyama was handed, which elevates the arc above a lot of the later parts, but I still think it's mire by the same issues of this part of the story. It had its moments, but that's all it really had to offer.

Final Exam Arc: (4/10)

+I think the idea of the arc is pretty strong. Not only do we get to see more of the teachers in action, but it’s a cool watching the students go up against the worst opponents possible, with each one needing to overcome some kind of weakness in order to nab the win.

+The fight with Deku, Bakugou and All Might was good. It's their low point, with the two literally and metaphorically trying to overcome All Might, and only able to do so by learning from each other, effectively pushing the both of them forward in their own development together.

+The Momo, Shoto, and Aizawa fight was pretty good. While not as well established in the manga, I do like the confidence issues between the two and how it ties into their leadership abilities. Again, it's a good example of the two learning and growing from each other.

+The ending scene at the mall was well handled. It's such a great one eighty from the tone and really raises the tension. Then there's the set up with Izuku and Tomura's clashing ideals, ending with Tomura truly realizing his goal. All around good stuff.

-The structure of this arc is a mess. All the fights are happening simultaneously and there is constant cutting back and forth between them. This means that all the fights struggle to build up any momentum before quickly cutting away at the most jarring of times.

-On that note, the fights aren't that impressive barring the two I mentioned before. They don't really have anything to offer in either story or spectacle. It's a bunch of pretty basic fights where we are given focus to some of the blandest characters in the series. -While this arc is built around the students going against their worst opponents, there isn't a lot of interesting growth or dynamics. Of all the side characters, we got Mineta and Koda, who aren't that engaging to read about, nor are they developed in engaging ways.

-In spite of the greater focus on character and having tangible threat of loss, this still suffers from a lot of school arcs suffer from. An educational setting like this doesn't have much tension to it. All we really have are the fights, which aren't that good.

=Yeah, this is quite the rough patch between a lot of stellar arcs. I hoped that it was merely a victim of placement, and it had its good points, but that arc is such a mess that it's hard to get much out of it. Not the worst, but not one that I am eager to revisit.

MLA Arc: (4/10)

+The MLA is an interesting concept. A political cult wanting to give power back by letting people use their Quirks without oversight. There's a lot of interesting perspectives for that topic, both in and out of the MLA, for why people may or may not want this to happen.

+Tomura is easily the MVP of the arc. His speech to Garaki was good, but his backstory with the highlight. Seeing the sheer lengths that the world, his family, and All For One poisoned Tenko into this being of pure hatred was equal parts engaging and tragic.

+Toga's backstory was good as well. While I have my issues with how nebulous Quirk Therapy is, that ultimately doesn't detract from it. It sets up the ideas of love and it's the expression and repression that prevail in her character and their importance going forward.

+I like Re-Destro in this arc. He parallels Tomura as a rage-fueled heir to a criminal legend, but contrasts it by being someone who is totally in control of his feelings and power, as well as being successful as running the empire that was left behind by Destro.

-This arc introduces Awakenings. I have never liked this concept, even when it is first revealed. It felt more like a lazy way to give characters power ups when it was convenient. This was especially the case with Toga, even if it fits with her whole love theme.

-The MLA Executives aren't interesting villains. They're one note obstacles to the LOV. I get not every character will get focus, but you think the heads of this massive group of would be given some depth, especially with a basis of the MLA has so many angles to cover.

-The barely functional LOV somehow beating and taking over the biggest group of villains in the country is such a massive leap in threat and scale. For them to survive the fight, let alone totally dominate, feels like Hori needed to hand them the win for the story.

-Following that, this is where a lot of the rushed pacing. It seems as though that the story and characters are trying to rush the story as fast as possible to get it to the point where it needs to be rather than taking its time to make sure all of the steps are set up beforehand.

=I know this arc is a fandom darling, but I really don't care for a majority of it. For me, it's few strong moments to hold up this ultimately weak arc. Especially since it's where a lot of the flaws of the later half of My Hero Academia came to the forefront for me.

Battle Trial Arc: (5/10)

+The arc does a good job of establishing the weight of heroics in the world. While Aizawa laid the foundation, showing how the students failed in the trial in their own ways shows just how much pressure that goes into hero work. The recap of all the flaws and mishandling of the training exercise is really neat.

+This does a great job of showing off Izuku's value as a fighter and as a character. In spite of having the strongest Quirk around, his brain is his most valuable weapon, able to plan around somehow who vastly outclasses him. His vocal declaration of Deku being the name of the hero is such a simple yet powerful moment for him.

+In fact, that fight itself is super neat. Izuku has a limited ace in the hole, but Bakugou has a massive advantage in skill and a psychological edge. Meanwhile Uraraka has to deal with the villainous Iida. It makes for a fun dynamic in the fight on how everyone plays off each other in personality and powers.

+All the character establishment is well handled, something hard for any series. We get a solid mix up of the dynamic between Izuku and Bakugou, good understanding of Iida and Uraraka while having foundational moments for Shoto and Momo. Plus, Ojiro and Hagakure had a cute little moment in there as well.

-None of that is extended to any of the other characters. Again, with all of these characters together, it would have been a really good chance to establish more about them as an ensemble cast. Even if it was only in minor ways like the previous examples it would have helped a lot going forward and made them feel less like cut outs.

-By extension, we only got the one fight out of the arc. Look, I'm not asking Hori to make five extra chapters here. All I'm saying is that I think that it would have been a good chance to get a better showing of the characters’ abilities and personalities by having them fight and bounce off each other before moving forward.

-Look, I know I keep harping on the art, but its flaws become a lot more apparent when trying to do action scenes. It can make certain motions seem a lot more awkward than cool. Again, this may just be hindsight, but it was pretty distracting coming back to read this seeing how much the art hindered the experience.

-The structure of this arc is so bizarre in how it's laid out. The actual order of the panels seems like things are happening oddly or even out of order. Seriously, go back and read the lead up to Izuku confronting Bakugou at the end. It's janky as all get out. This is not helped by the pretty sloppy artwork with the characters.

=The first real fight of the series and it goes off with a bang. I do think this fight is a highlight of the early series, delivering powerful emotional moments and unique dynamic, both in combat and character. Though the series is still green and the early flaws of the series being the most prevalent here really holds it back.

PLF War Arc: (5/10)

+Izuku has some of his strongest character work here. Push to the brink, he regresses back to that totally destructive mindset and constant doubt of his early series version. And having the arc resolve with him having empathy for Tomura after everything he did is just great. No issue with how he was handled this time around.

In fact, I think a lot of the character stuff is pretty strong. Bakugou gets a nice moment by saving Izuku, Enji has to go through some of the harshest development when faced with Tomura and Dabi, and Uraraka is confronted with the most moral complexities of villains. And hey, the arc actually got me to like Miruko.

+The rest of the villains were solid as well. I really like the stuff with Hawks and Double. It works as a nice microcosm of a lot of the conflicts about heroes and the world's inability to understand villains and their issues. Toga's growth and confrontation Uraraka over understanding hero’s savings villains is all around good.

+The Dabi reveal was amazing. What was such a predictable plot point was turned into this amazing reveal, doing a total one eighty and Dabi's character for me. You take this melancholy loser and make it so he dances and reveals in all the suffering he is causing Endeavor. It's great to see it pay off in such a bombastic and impactful way.

-This arc continues the unfortunate trend of Tomura's power creep. His already insane level of power has skyrocketed without any sort of in between. And Tomura getting possesed is one of the dumbest things to happen in the story, robbing Tomura of all his character and agency in favor of someone else stealing his spotlight.

-Not everything is great on the heroes' side. Midnight's death is one a terribly handled aspect of the story, made even worse by Gran Torino somehow surviving and is the only notably causality on the hero's side. And while I get it's supposed to be Kirishima's moment, having Mina set up and undermine like that feels mean spirited.

-Some of the villains in this were let down. All of the relevant MLA members get off screened. I get they aren't the most important, but you think there could be someone more. Then there are the High Ends. You introduce a squad as dangerous as Hood, have them be an issue with one hero, and then kill them all. What was even the point?

-Aside from the Dabi reveal, all the other ones fall flat. Mr. Compress' backstory is here and gone. Oboro is a literal who that requires supplementary material to know who he even is. Mirio comes back with little fanfare and contributes next to nothing in his fight. And Best Jeanist's return raises so many questions, and not in a good way.

=I get this arc is super popular, but for me, it's one of extreme highs and extreme lows. When it's good, it's really good, but when it's bad, it's pretty awful. It's like for every positive, there's an equal negative in the same field. I ultimately believe that the good outweighs the bad, but not enough to make me rank it any higher.

USJ Arc (6/10)

+This arc goes zero to one hundred real quick and it's great. We go from low stakes practice to everything going wrong. The villains are attacking, the adults are out of commission, and All Might is nowhere around. It does a really good job of making this tension situation with real danger, making the pays off that more powerful.

+This is where we get more from the UA characters, doing a surprisingly good job of characterizing a lot of them in spite of having such a short time span, giving a lot of their characters their own moment to show off. Same with the teachers, with us getting more layers to the teachers, like Aizawa genuine care of the students.

+This is where a lot of Izuku's major character traits come about, really show off how much of natural leader he is and just he proficient he is in planning. What's more is the self-image and self-destructive issues come to light, such as giving up the president spot and when he tries to save All Might, adding a lot more to his own character.

+All Might is handled really well in this arc. Not only does it give us a deeper glimpse into his character, but just how he's handled thematically. It goes a good job of showing All Might's power with how he and how hopeless things are without him yet gives us a reminder that power is fading and is one a time limit.

+This may just be hindsight, but I like Tomura for this arc. He's the big bad but is almost constantly undermined and humiliated at every other turn, both physically and ideologically. It's a subversion that's hilarious in the moment but does set him up well for further development and helps parallel him with Izuku's own growth.

-Again, a lot of the early series flaws are present here. It legitimately feels like there are panels missing from the pages or that the panels are really awkwardly structured, such as a having a big moment in a tiny panel or panels not flowing well from one to another. It can make it a very jarring read and takes a lot from the experience.

-Man, for being the climatic fight of the arc, the actual battle with the Nomu and All Might feels super underwhelming. It may just be that the anime spoiled me, but it lacks a lot of impact a fight like this needs, the art doesn't convey the action, and is over pretty quickly. It makes the ending feel pretty flaccid, especially for the first big arc.

-While the main players of the villains’ side are cool, it does feel like a lot of minions leave some to be desired. Seriously, outside of Izuku's group, it doesn't feel like any of the students are under real threat from the horde of minions. It can make it seem like a lot of initial villains were pretty empty outside of the three heavy hitters.

=A big arc that finally expands the world and threats outside the school. Which it does a pretty fine job of. It's not exactly the same high of the anime, but it isn't too bad either. I think it works best when you see it as the punctuation to set up for the greater story. Now that it's done, we can start moving on to the real meat.

Endeavor Agency Arc: (6/10)

+I like the opening chapter about interviews. Besides the fact that most of the gags land and how I've really wanted to see the kids learn stuff like this, I really like the world building behind Super Moves. That they aren't just aces in the hole for a hero, they are a means of brand recognition that help solidify a hero's image.

+The Christmas part was just plain cute. I'm all for the characters doing non-plot stuff like this and I like a lot of the gags with it. All the different gifts people get, the background gag of Mina trying to dress Bakugou, and Eri getting all the holidays mixed up. It's a fun little break that doesn't mess up the plot or pacing too much.

+The family drama was well handled. I think it's interesting how Hori handled the family dynamics of the Todorokis. He gave each of the members their own perspective on a complicated situation, but doesn't invalidate any of them, nor does he try to quickly redeem Enji or say that any one of the family members needs to accept him.

+In fact, Enji is great this arc. Besides the small ways he is humanized on a more personal level and the natural dynamics he has with the characters, it does a great job by trying to separate the ideas of atonement and forgiveness in the arc and what the two really mean, something I believe is key to understanding Endeavor's story.

+The pacing of the arc is near perfect. Everything gets the attention it needs in the time it needs and nothing feels like wasted time or out of place. It goes a great job of setting up the next arc with Hawks' spying and Tomura's growth without detracting from the current plot.

-For an arc called the Endeavor Agency, there isn't a lot of time spent at the agency. The trio isn't learning about being heroes or having their characters really bounce off each other, whether it with their Quirks or overall personalities, skipping right to the end of it. It feels like a lot more could have been done with these three together.

-There are some worrying trends that come with this arc. Like how instead of getting anything with the agency, everything was frustratingly skipped over in a time jump. Then Izuku learns how to use "Black Whip" way too fast, mastering this wild power in a week. It contributes a lot to the rushed feelings of the later arcs.

-Ending is super lame. His design is middling, his power isn't that great, and his whole motivation is just worse Stain. I wouldn't harp on him as much if he were a bit villain, but Hori could have done more with him considering his importance to this arc. Heck, Starchild was more interesting and he's barely in this story.

=An arc that is often lost and forgotten by being sandwiched between two larger, series defining arcs. Which is a real shame because I think it offers quite a bit with all the drama doing on with the Todorokis and the levity of the early chapters. All around a pretty solid arc and does a lot to set up the next big arc well.

Entrance Exam Arc: (7/10)

+If I was rating solely on chapters, Chapter 1 would get a perfect ten. It does such a good job of setting up the world, the characters, the themes, the tone, and the conflicts in the amount of time it has. It's such an amazing foundation for everything going forward. It's honestly impressive all the leg work it does this early on.

+The exam is set up really well. Having there be Hero Points and the Level Zero robots was a smart way for Izuku to have his cake and eat it. He still gets to have his moment of heroic sacrifice, but it was that noble spirit was what got him that spot in the first place. Him finally getting in is such as powerful emotional moment as well.

+The whole reveal of "One For All" is such a good endpoint and hook for the series going forward. Izuku may have been gifted the greatest power in the world, but now has to deal with some of the most dangerous drawbacks in the whole series to limit it, still keeping the stakes giving him plenty of room to develop his power.

+The arc does emotional moments really well. All Might telling Izuku he can be a hero, Izuku triumphantly standing on top of the trash pile, to him rushing to the forefront to save Uraraka. Again, in spite such a limited amount of panel time, it makes each moment feel so much bigger and more impactful then it has any right to be.

+On that note, it does a great job of endearing and connecting you to characters. Izuku's position as an underdog is immediately sympathetic, as is All Might's unenviable role as the top hero. Which I think is a real achievement given how early we're into the manga and how hard it can be to establish characters in the beginning.

-As for the rest of it, most of it's just Izuku training and doing the exam. That's it. It's not terrible and it really goes to show Izuku's dedication to being a hero, but it's not something to really write home about. This could simply be that the first chapter was that good, but it's not as exciting going forward.

-Some of the early art is kind of rough. This could just be because I'm more used to the cleaner style of the later chapters, but it comes across as rather jagged for a lot of the characters. This doesn't feel like a intentional style choice, more of a series finding its footing and with the art style and designs needing refinement.

-This extends to the major players of this arc. Again, benefit of hindsight, but it they seem more like exaggerated versions of themselves. All Might comes across as a lot more callous, and even with the worst version of himself, Bakugou telling Izuku to jump off a roof seems really out of character for him.

=Ah, back in the days that My Hero Academia was the little manga that could. First impressions are equal parts important and difficult, so it really is an accomplishment that the arc is as well put together as it is. It all works as a great foundation for the story. With such a strong start, it's no surprise that it got pick up for more chapters.

Pro Hero Arc: (7/10)

+While the last few arcs did some leg work, the Pro Hero Arc did a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to Enji's character. It takes this one note antagonist and actually makes him the underdog hero while still acknowledging all the bad stuff he did. It's honestly impressive how well this was pulled off given its starting point.

+The fight of Hood was great. Not only does it involve two of the most visually interesting and versatile fighters we've had thus far, giving a lot of ways to mix up the fight, but it manages to pull out some really strong emotional moments. This mixed with the pitch perfect pacing, and stellar art makes for an enjoyable experience.

+Hawks is such an enjoyable addition to the cast. Not only does he have an amazing design and power, but he’s also such a fun personality to hang around with. What seems like a total slacker, goofball is one of the most perceptive and skill heroes around. You're just interested in seeing what he does and how he bounces off Enji.

+And then it all gets flipped upside down by the end of the arc. Hawks was a kid raised to be a hero and is now going to infiltrate the League. Not only does this raise a lot of intrigue for the upcoming story, but it feels like such a massive upset from what we've seen of Hawks and the hero world as whole to have this happen.

+The out of battle stuff was nice as well. Besides Izuku getting his first fan in Kota, the fall out of the Todoroki's was well handled. In spite of his attempts at redemption, Enji's still hurt people and they aren't going to forgive him. It would have been so easy for quick forgiveness, but this makes Enji and Shoto's story all the stronger.

+The flash backs we got at the end with Izuku were pretty cool. It's interesting to see All For One in his younger years and how his empire camp to be. In the frightening world of Quirks with desperate people, his power to give and take power made him a king. It's a unique way to put him in power while still fitting within the world building.

-The other pro heroes have… neat designs. Look, for an arc that's supposed to be about the top heroes of Japan, there is shockingly little shown outside of Hawks and Endeavor. While they are the main characters, you couldn't have thrown a bone to the other characters? Maybe even revealed their Quirks or show off their personalities?

-Hood isn't that amazing of a villain. He's certainly a physical threat, but the fact that he's an intelligent Nomu doesn't really factor much into his character. He wants to fight, but that doesn't really give us much to work from. It feels like Enji is fighting some reflection or contrast and just something he needs to set on fire.

=Yeah, this was surprisingly good. The fact that Hori was able to turn around Enji’s to this degree is really impressive, but I do think that there is a lot more going on with the arc. It’s a good break from the main cast to flesh out the world and develops a lot of interesting ideas and plot points with the introduction of Hawks.

Culture Festival Arc: (8/10)

+Gentle and La Brava are great. They're so wonderful and different from everyone else. Their status as total jokes, both in and out of the series, betrays the fact that both are competent in their own ways and have a lot of care for one another. They're good set up for the later humanization of the villains of the series.

+I like the fight between Gentle and Izuku. Gentle's power is so cool to see in action and leads to an interesting fight dynamic. He isn't stronger than Izuku, but he's so tricky to deal with that it gives him an edge. It feels less like a brawl and more of the two trying to outfox each other, making it more distinct from other fights.

+This works as a good breather and much needed break from the more dower tone for the last few arcs, making for a comforting read. On that note, this is hands down the funniest arc in the whole series. Gentle and La Brava alone would qualify this arc for it, but a lot of the students have some good gags sprinkled throughout.

+I like a lot of the character bits we get. Not only does this arc actually develop Jiro and Eri, but it ties well into some of the general themes of the series. With how everyone is battered after the raid. It shows the kind of pressure that heroes go through and the importance of other kinds of heroics like Jiro's music.

+Not only does the arc establish the point of heroes saving people without fighting in Eri and Jiro's storyline, but the humanization of villains I mentioned before. La Brava and Gentle are both sad victims of circumstance who found strength outside the system in each other. It's affectively a microcosm of the major villains of the story.

-As much as I like this arc, I can admit it goes through kind of a whiplash plot and tone wise. Going from the Shie Hassaikai Arc to this is still pretty jarring to have everything stop and be light on both. I still like it, but I sometimes get the feeling of looking at my watch and wondering when things will be moving forward.

-There really should have been more exploration of the students. If you're going to do a plot light arc based around the school, it would have been a great time to see more of the students. If not from Class 1-B, who are major focuses of the next arc, then at least some of the lesser seen students could have had something going on.

=Probably one of my more controversial picks. I know this arc gets dogged on a lot by the fans, but I think that is wholly underserved. I thought it had a lot of value, even beyond its lighthearted story. And hey, I'm fine with taking breaks from the plot if I believe what's happening is worthwhile, and I certainly think it's worthwhile.

Sports Festival Arc: (8/10)

+In spite the low stakes of sport events, the arc manages to keep the tension up and mix things up with all the strategy and powers at play. Sure, running an obstacle course or doing a cavalry race isn't that cool on paper, but actively fighting against a horde of another students all with their own powers keeps it interesting.

+This arc really shows off some of Izuku's finest qualities. It was interesting seeing Izuku try and plan his way around the events given his huge disadvantages and amazingly shows off his character. Everything from his planning abilities, his skill in leading other people, and his genuine desire to save other people.

+Shoto was certainly the dark horse of the arc. While set up to be important early on, I don't think anyone could have predicted just how well his character and back story was done. That backstory really starts to delve into the darker themes of the story with his father, one of the top heroes, being an abuser that used his kids as tools.

+Of course, the Shoto vs Izuku fight is amazing. There is no contesting this. This is one of Izuku's most defining moments, effectively throwing away at chance at winning just to save Shoto. It ends in an emotional climax of Shoto regaining his power and Izuku losing, making for an subversion that makes sense and is satisfying. +The other side character work is done well, giving us more layers to them. Like hints of Iida's more vengeful side, Uraraka having this frightening amount of drive, and Bakugou showing some real respect to other people. It helps to subvert and expand on the characters, all while delving into more of their motivations and goals.

+This character work extends into more world building, especially with the new side characters. Shinso do a lot to build up the unfair the world can be in regard to Quirks while Mei introduces other aspects of the school and heroism as a whole. And this is all while they're both still fun characters to read about in their own ways.

-As for what happens in the rest of arc… it's pretty good. If you remove the highlight moments, most of the arc doesn't stand out as much in terms of what actually happens in it. I don't think it's bad by any means, but it's not something as amazing or exciting as the few highs of this arc and tends to skew a lot of people's perspectives.

-This extends to the other fights as well. Outside of the one standout I mentioned before, there isn't anything that spectacular to me brings up some frustrations like how Izuku was saved from Shinso by a Deus Ex Machina. Heck, the impetus of Momo's whole character arc is relegated to a single cartoonish panel summarizing the fight.

=I know this is a fandom darling and I feel a lot of that comes from the anime adaptation. To me, when looking at the manga, it's an arc of some extreme highs, but was above average to good with the rest of it. Certainly not my favorite but still a good arc.

Forest Training Camp Arc: (9/10)

+As someone who really likes to explore the mechanics of Quirks and hero work, I enjoy the various ways these Quirks can be trained and evolved and what kind of roles and pressures they would have to handle. Sure, cooking isn't something we really think about with heroes, but it makes sense to know that for disaster work.

+It's really satisfying to see Tomura use all the lessons he's used thus far, putting aside his short-sighted schemes in favor of a more thought out goal with a plan to turn the narrative against the heroes and capturing Bakugou. That mix with the inherent threats of the villains makes the League seem like a serious contender.

+A lot of the villains are pretty good. They don't have a lot of depth right now, but they don't really need to for the purposes they serve. They are all established enough in their own ways that they are interesting to see and makes you want to know more about them, leaving things open for use to learn more about them later.

+I like a lot of the minor stuff we got with the students. A lot of the pre battle antics are good at fleshing them out, but they really start to shine in the second half of the arc. Whether it be as active players in the arc, like Tokoyami and Shoji, or setting up for their own stories, like with Uraraka and Aoyama, it's all good stuff to read.

+Izuku vs Muscular fight is great. There's some real tension with Kota being threatened, we see Izuku being more emotionally and physically broken than any other point in the series. Only for him to overcome it with one of the most emotional panels in the series. The Million Percent Smash being such a perfect punctuation with the whole battle.

+I appreciate the arc ending on such a dower note. In spite everyone's efforts, the villains won. They kidnaped Bakugou, a huge portion of the students are in critical condition, and there is a potential mole within the walls of UA. It works as an affective low point for the next arc to build off of for the story.

+And in spite of the dark tone, the arc still manages to be really funny, like all the small interactions between characters, like Shoto subtlety throwing shade at Bakugou. And I standby that Izuku suddenly getting punched in the nuts is still one of the funniest moments in the entire series. I will die on this hill.

+This arc hits a perfect balance of pacing. The first half of the story is full of fun antics and lighter moments between the characters while the latter half is full of highly emotional action with a new gallery of rogues. And when it hits the ground, it hits hard and fast, never letting up on the fights and intrigue with the characters.

=While not as groundbreaking as some of the higher ups, I still hold this arc in a special place. Everything from the characters, to the fights, to the emotional beats are all handled so well that I often consider it the best of arc of the series. Even if you twist my arm, the only fault it has is that I simply like the other arcs more than it.

Stain Arc: (9/10)

+The art style drastically improves this arc. While I certainly saw a leap in quality once we got to the Sports Festival, the manga really starts to hit its stride once we reach Stain. The characters have more detail to them, the backgrounds pop a lot more, and the paneling is handled a lot better, making for a stronger experience.

+I like a lot of stuff with hero names and internships. Agian, it's a quick and easy way to help us understand and endear ourselves to the character while still developing the bigger ones, such as Iida's uncertainty as a hero after his brother’s injury or Bakugou trying to learn more about the social nuances of being a hero.

+The Full Cowl was such a good idea. The bone breaking was a neat gimmick to start with, but ultimately unsustainable concept. This offers a good side grade that still fits within the power. It gives Izuku far less power but grants him more control and a way to measure his progress throughout the series.

+Tomura and Izuku get some much-needed development. This arc sees them both growing beyond their world view when faced with an outside force, with Stain acting as their reality check. It sets up how the two will grow opposites throughout the series and further reinforcing the two parallels of our two main leads.

+Shoto and Iida get some time to break out of their original shells. While it's nice to see Shoto being far less cold to people, Iida going on a revenge quest is such a drastic yet believable turn for him. Having his righteous vengeance turn on its head and how such a thing would only sully the family name is all great stuff to read.

+Stain is such a great villain. He commands every single scene he's in and always remains a real threat in spite of his lackluster ability. Though the real meat is how much he's able to challenge the world and characters we see. The man has an iron clad code, one that makes he ready to lift up or deconstruct anyone he comes across.

+The fight with Stain is great. Stain is outgunned and outnumbered, but never outmatched, having much greater skill and what amounts to a one hit KO. That mixed with the closed off arena gives him a massive advantage. It's such a uniquely balanced fight and leads to a lot of interesting back and forth, yet still makes Stain a real threat.

+It feels like there were some real consequences to this arc. Stain wasn't some one-off villain, he changed everything, inspiring more villains and building up for the next big arc. Then there are hints to All For One, the who harmed All Might, being behind everything. It builds up a lot of intrigue for the rest of the story.

=Yeah, there is a good reason everyone talks about this arc. While Stain is the standout figure of this part, I do think it does a disservice to the rest of the arc to only bring up him. It's able to balance so much so well with how each of the characters grow and all meet up in fight. So yeah, it's well worth all the hype it gets.

Hideout Raid Arc: (10/10)

+This handles a lot of the aftermath of Forest Camp Arc well. All the students emotionally handling things and the teachers dealing with the fallout being well done. Giving Izuku a very real threat of damage to his body if he keeps pushing himself too far, set up some real stakes for his training and any future battles he has.

+I like a lot of minor moments between the students. Things like the debate at the beginning of whether or not to save Bakugou helps flesh out the class a lot. Then the bit of Momo and Iida keeping their friends from rushing in are good moments for them while still establishing just how big of a threat All For One is.

+And this is the arc where I think Bakugou clicked for me. We got hints of his depth before, but this is where it comes together. It gives us such an interesting peek into his headspace, like the view we got of his home life and getting his perspective on the concept of heroism and how it ties into winning for him.

+All For One's reveal was handled so well. The shadowy man we've heard so much about comes out with a devastating attack, destroying any opposition and horrifying the nearby students. It's nothing truly groundbreaking, but It's all presented so well that it elevates so much in the eyes of the reader as an impossible threat.

+The All For One vs All Might fight is one of the highest, if not the highest peaks in the series. What else could I possibly say? The beats are simple, but the execution is nigh perfect. The back and forth of the two, the reveal of Small Might, the second wind of power, All Might learning from Izuku, and the United States of Smash. All amazing.

+And while many people remember the main fight, I think the aftermath is just as good. The conflict between Izuku, Inko, and Toshinori is so natural and gripping, with Inko wanting to protect Izuku in spite of his dreams and this in turn hardening's Toshinori to the resolve of his new mission of training Izuku.

+Said aftermath sets up some many interesting and exciting plot points. The fall out of All For One's capture, All Might needing to deal with his life after being a hero, Izuku having to bear the weight of "One For All", Bakugou feeling guilt over All Might losing his spot, and the still immature Tomura now being out on his own.

+The tone is really well handled here. It gets pretty grim, but it doesn't get so dark that it takes you out of the experience and hits all the hopeful moments just right. And again, the comedy is oddly strong here. All Might opening his big entrance with a pizza delivery line and the rescue gang trying clothes on in a thrift store.

=Now, I don't need to tell you why this is good. What you may be asking is why it's not at the top. While I do think that All Might vs All For One is amazing and a good chunk of the arc, but there's still the rest of it. Again, it's some good stuff that gets overshadow a lot, but it's another case of something so amazing elevating the rest of the arc.

Shie Hassaikai Arc: (10/10)

+Not only is this arc unique from all the other arcs thus far, giving us our first real look at the hero world, the arc is great technically as well. It's always keeping up my interest and doesn't drag on at any point. The art is really good, especially with the character designs. Everything is as long as it needs to be, and nothing feels awkward.

+I really like how Izuku is handled here. He has been defined by his self-image issues but tackling that as All Might's successor is interesting. It does everything in its power to make you question if he was worthy, yet is always showing you his merits, namely his relentless will to help people no matter the threat may be.

+Sir Nighteye and Mirio are both good characters as well. They do work to contrast's Izuku own feelings and his role but are still enjoyable characters in their own right. Mirio as a hard-working hero with a good heart and Sir Nighteye as a fatalistic naysayer are both great in their own ways.

+In fact, a lot of the side characters are good in it. Kirishima gets a lot of good development, Tamaki is fun to read as the shy dork he is, Rock Lock presents a unique perspective on hero students, and Fat Gum is Fat Gum. Even with the more minor characters, they stand out enough to be interesting in spite of their lack of panel time.

+To me, this is the arc where Tomura really hits his stride as a villain. Without any proper support, he grows into the leader needs to be the League. Not only does this lead to some of his best moments and sets up his story but adds some much needed layers to the burgeoning villain, showing some real care for his teammates.

+Overhaul is such a great villain. Not only is he a massive threat in power, resources, and overall abilities, he acts as a good foil not only to Izuku, but to Tomura as well while still being his own character. His plan and goal are so unique for the setting, yet offer a frightening endgame, effectively controlling the supply and demand of Quirks.

+By extension, I think this does a lot to characterize the rest of the villains. Obviously, Twice and Toga get the bulk of it, building them up as people beyond their gimmicks, but the rest of the League gets their own moments to shine. This extends to the yakuza minions, who I think are my favorite ensemble of villains in the series.

+This arc ends on such a great note. Sir Nighteye's death crushes the heroes' side in spite the reconciliation. Meanwhile, Tomura gets out like champ, getting revenge on Overhaul and leaving with a dangerous weapon in his hands. It's a good way to start the slow shift of the dynamic between heroes and villains going forward.

=So while this doesn't think this hits the same highs as the Hideout Raid, I think it does accomplish more with its scope. It has a lot more to juggle in comparison to the Hideout Raid and pulls it off with flying colors. It obviously doesn't hit the same peaks, but holds as consistently level of quality, making me prefer it.

[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.