#Case Study Helper

[lizziela]

I think I might have a type...

just maybe, I'm not sure...

[putrefacion]

LUTE’S CORE TRAUMA DOES NOT STEM FROM THE ACT OF SIN ITSELF; SHE WAS ALWAYS MEANT TO SIN. NOT ONLY WAS SHE MADE TO SERVE ADAM AS HIS SECOND-IN-COMMAND & TO ‘FIX’ WHAT EVE SUPPOSEDLY BROKE, BUT SHE WAS CREATED AS A CONTROLLED FAILURE.THE SERAPHIM NEEDED A TEST CASE — A TEMPLATE OF DISOBEDIENCE TO STUDY, TO BETTER UNDERSTAND WHAT EFFECTS FREE WILL & KNOWLEDGE HAVE ON HUMANS, WHERE IT WENT WRONG, WHY IT WENT WRONG. HAD SHE NOT BIT THE FRUIT, SHE WOULD HAVE FAILED THE SIMULATION. THEN THERE'S THE FACT THAT THE EXTERMINATIONS WERE NOT MEANT TO BE PERMANENT! & YOU CAN’T SIMULATE MORAL COLLAPSE WITHOUT RISKING MORAL AGENCY; MACHINES & ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TRAINED TO OBEY WILL ALWAYS DESTABILIZE WHEN GIVEN CONTRADICTORY ORDERS — & NOW WITH ADAM GONE, WITH PENTIOUS BEING REDEEMED [ WHICH GOES AGAINST HER CORE DIRECTIVES AS AN EXORCIST; PURGE ON SIGHT ] THAT DESTABILIZATION IS ACCELERATING; HER OPERATIONAL STABILITY IS DEPENDENT ON ADAM’S PRESENCE, SINCE HER BEHAVIORAL FRAMEWORK WAS DESIGNED TO INTERFACE WITH HIS AS A PRIMARY ANCHOR. IF HEAVEN DECIDES SHE’S NO LONGER USEFUL, SHE’LL BE CAST OUT,

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[harrybrookk]

Mental stress is often caused by neglecting or postponing tasks, leading to increased pending projects and stress. This leads to seeking help from a homework helper, as time is limited and no strategies are available to manage the situation.

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[moonsglare]

“lyney. what is that on your shoulder?”

your words are flat, tone more statement than question, and a sheepish look graces lyney’s expression. the boy—young man, you correct yourself—shifts almost awkwardly on his feet, his eyes darting from side to side as he clearly tries to think up of some explanation for what in the world you’re seeing right now.

“well, father and i went out on a mission,” he begins. “it was supposed to be just reconaissance on a rogue fatui alchemist, but the target somehow figured out we were tailing him. i went after him, but i was careless. he… he managed to get the upper hand and threw some sort of potion at me. father took the hit instead, and i managed to restrain the alchemist. but when i looked back at father after that…”

he gestures awkwardly to his shoulder, whereupon a little black-and-white rabbit toy sits, and you raise a brow.

“she turned into a marketable plush toy?”

lyney scratches the back of his neck. “uh, well. yes, i’d say.”

you sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. today will be a long day indeed. after a beat, you open them again, and study the toy—which is, apparently, the fourth harbinger and more importantly your husband—again.

it’s a little rabbit, about the size of an average child’s toy. its body is mostly white, with patches of black at its hands, feet and the tips of its ears. its expression is one of utter unamusement, eyes half-lidded almost in annoyance. but in truth, it is those very eyes that assure you of the truth of lyney’s story—little crimson Xs that gaze at you with an intensity you would know anywhere.

“arlecchino?” you try hesitantly, the toy’s tiny ear flicks in response. you almost snort—archons above, it really is her. your husband really did get turned into a marketable plushie that you’re quite sure regrator wouldn’t hesitate to mass produce. instead, you shake your head, dropping your hand down to your side. “i take it you asked the alchemist for an antidote already?”

lyney nods. “i did. he said there wasn’t one—“ your eyes flicker briefly with panic, and lyney hastily elaborates, “—b-but he said it would wear off in a few hours! and he’s still alive, so if the worst comes to pass…”

you exhale slightly in relief. “right. well, i suppose i’ll take her off your… shoulder.”

you reach out unsurely to the little toy, palm open. its round head looks down at your open hand from lyney’s shoulder, before standing on its stubby legs and jumping. the plushie is remarkably soft, and you resist the urge to squeeze it. you bring your hand to your shoulder next, and the toy clambers onto it, settling comfortably with one tiny paw braced against your neck.

“comfortable?” you ask, glancing down. you get a sharp nod in response, and another flick of an ear. the absurdity of the situation gets a chuckle out of you, before you reach out and ruffle lyney’s hair. “alright, i’ll take it from here. go ahead and rest, lyney.”

the young man relaxes, nods, then heads off, looking the slightest bit glad he no longer has his father over his shoulder—literally. you, on the other hand, breathe out a slow exhale, moving your hand up to scratch beneath the toy’s chin instinctively, like you would a cat. it softens against your touch, slouching almost, a stubby leg kicking lightly against your collarbone.

you laugh softly. “i suppose i should spend the rest of the day in the office, before the younger children catch sight of such a cute little toy.”

the toy stiffens ever so slightly, ear flicking again, and you take that as an ethusiastic yes with another giggle before heading off to your shared office.

paperwork is, objectively, boring. however, little things can make it more interesting. like having another person to do it with, or in your case today—a sentient plush toy. toychino (as you’ve taken to calling her) ambles around your desk like a little helper, gathering papers and bringing you pens. sometimes she taps her little foot against a specific line, and you make a note to speak about it to her later, when she can actually—hopefully—talk again.

in truth, you’re barely keeping it together. toychino is giving you such vicious cuteness aggression it takes every ounce of self control in your being not to squeeze her senseless. time seems to drag on endlessly, and after what feels like an eternity of torment, the sun finally dips below the horizon, granting you and toychino a moment of reprieve. you bring her back with you to your shared room, setting her down against the pillows as you get changed.

you can feel her eyes on you, ever-present, even as a tiny toy. when you head back to the bed in your night-clothes, her gaze feels intense, despite her expression being almost comically perptually unimpressed. you flop onto the soft mattress, rolling onto your back and taking toychino in your hands, holding her up like a cat from under her small arms.

you can’t help but crack a smile. “you’re quite cute like this, you know. i might miss toychino.”

the toy does nothing but give you a silent, withering glare, ears dropping a fraction. like a pout, kind of. it makes you want to explode into a billion pieces, and you can’t smother the laugh that bubbles from your lips.

“i’m definitely getting a little copy of you made,” you murmur affectionately, rubbing her cheek with your thumb. “my beloved marketable plushie.”

you bring her down to your lips to press a kiss to her soft, cotton-filled head—

—and a plume of white smoke bursts in your face, before a solid weight drops onto your body, forcing a startled ‘oof’ from your lips.

you cough and wave a hand to clear away the smoke (thankfully tasteless, scentless and sensationless), blinking to clear out your eyes. when your vision finally refocuses, you’re looking into bright crimson Xs, shining like cut rubies.

as the final vestiges of smoke clear, there appears your husband—in all her full, human glory. her handsome face is set in an unamused expression as she looks down at you, though you know her well enough to be able to see the fondness lying behind it. she leans in, large, warm hands intertwining with your own and pressing yours into the mattress to pin you down.

“wife,” she rumbles, and you resist the urge to preen and expose how much you’ve missed her voice today. “you’ve had a lot of fun, haven’t you?”

you breathe a small laugh. “most certainly.”

she huffs softly, nosing along your jaw to your neck, and pressing a nipping kiss to your pulse. she’s warm, intensely so, and you feel that heat start to spread throughout your system as well.

“you had your hands all over me today,” she murmurs after a beat, shifting a little higher to whisper her next words into your ear. there’s almost a slight hint of mischief to her tone, but you’re starting to get a little too hot to be sure.

“it’s my turn now.”

(she ends up reminding you for the rest of the night why human arlecchino is a far better option than toychino. however, you still get a replica toy made, much to her utter dismay.)

[meathunt]

Alien idea pt.2

guys sorry that posting takes a bit long, i'm still getting used to managing my time ^^u Also sorry if it has mistakes i'm a bit eepy atm Hope you enjoy and don't be shy in telling me what else you would want to see! The alien pt,1 ----------------------------------------- You really didn't know how you ended up here

And as you push yourself further to the wall of what they shoved you in, what you can only guess is a cage, as they once again tried to reach for you.

At first you were frozen from fear when they quite literally teared you out of the escape pod. You actually are kind of proud that you didn't faint the moment multiple creatures that were double your size crowded around you and the emergency pod.

They were making sounds and if you had to interpret anything they were talking about you, some made motions that looked like go up to grab you or get near while others stopped them mid-way, but it felt like by the second more creatures crowded around you, making you even more nervous.

They were still having a heated discussion while your brain started to run again. You were looking to a place where you could run to, an opening between the walls of aliens that surrounded you. When a loud voice, if you could call it that, shut them all up at once, the tone felt very angry which just fed the need to run away faster.

But before you could make any significant move more than a surprised jump. Clawed hands held you by the armpits, and you were lifted from the ground. You quickly tried to struggle so maybe he will drop you, but instead he held you more firmly, making you whimper in pain as you felt your ribs being too pressured by the hands.

After that someone brought the cage looking thing and you were promptly put in there and carried to another room. The only positive is that in all that confrontation you were holding the emergency package, and none of the creatures tried to take it away from you.

Now you had time to calm down somewhat, you had no idea what to make of finding out that, aliens were real and also that you had no idea what was their intention with you. After all they haven't been really violent or forceful, you being able to "evade them" so far is proof that they have some level of compassion

That starts to fly out of the window when the alien that has been overseeing you says something and then you see the roof of your cage disappear right in front of your eyes. And as he proceeds to lift you, you curse and scream.

Oyrehn has been pacing in his room, working as fast as he can, getting ready his chambers to house you in there, his quarters are one of the biggest in the ship, if not the biggest.

He was baby proofing all the room from top to bottom, all the articles he has read about humans says how curious they are, and will try to escape confinement if they find some possible way even if it actually isn’t safe to do, and he will be dammed if you get hurt under his care.

He had to fight with the medical team on board so he would be able to keep you with him and not in some crate in the medical bay. The things one does for love huh.

He really couldn’t hide how excited he actually was to have human, and to most likely be able to care for them!! He remembers your face and the noises you were making when they were going to take you, you were just so cute! He has studied so much about humans, from the information that they have been able to gathered about your species, a point that made the doctors be more inclined to leaving you in his care.

After some time, he finally finished preparing his room for you, so he decided to finally go get you from the medical bay, he knew the doctor was most likely doing some standard tests on you, just in case, but when he got nearer to the infirmary he heard your little voice, high pitched and grumbly.

The scene that greeted him was the doctor panicking as he tried to give you an injection, a tranquilizer from what he could see, and his helpers were basically holding you down as you struggled. He could see you were getting tired, kicking and shaking but with less force by the second. Oyrehn cleared his throat and the doctor immediately stopped what he was doing.

They talked for a second about how little progress he sadly did in the tests thanks to your uncooperative attitude, and how they will need Oryehn to bring you back so they can get more information from you. After all you were most likely one of the only humans that they have been able to observed form so close and study, it would be such a waste if they weren’t able to observe you more.

That ticked off Oryehn a little, so he convinced them that he will bring you up for checkups when you feel more cooperative, after all, all the stress they were putting you under would most likely harm you.

He got closer to you after finalizing some details with the medical team. Your big eyes looked up at him in what he could only assume is recognition, after all he was the one who took you from your escape pod. You tried to appear intimidating, but he knew that you hardly had anything to defend yourself with, and even if you had something that could cause some damage you were too tired still to really out a decent fight.

So as he took you and got you closer to his chest you were lazily kicking him and trying to push away from him without much success.

The trip back to his chambers was mostly silent except for your occasional howl and his constant clicking, a common way for his species to try to calm down their young.

Whe you both reached his room he made a beeline for the cleaning chambers, as he already prepared the closes thing to a bath he could give you, after all you seemed a little bit dirty, and from what he could see from your little ship, you didn’t really have cleaning supplies on you.

He warmed some cleaning slime while taking off your little coverings, that made you struggle once a new, but between his claws and your meager attempts to get away he made quick work. Once you were naked he lowered you down in the slime, you kicked a fuss while being lowered, at some point holding for dear life to his arms as he continues to lower you on it.

You were honestly freaking out a bit, but as he massaged your shoulders with the slime and even started to scratch your head, you felt everything just weighting you down. How long has it been since you last took a real relaxing bath?

And as fast as you started to trash you begun to relax, slowly leaning against his hands and as he finalized cleaning you, you were already falling asleep, being carried to a soft bed and held close, you really didn’t understand how you ended up here, and as you started to close your eyes and the Alien petted your head once again, you really couldn’t care for the moment.

[wordsarelife]

pairing: slytherin!group x fem!nott!reader (romantic interest to come…)

summary: mattheo’s sure he’s cracked the case this time, but his “genius” plan drags everyone into a mess. theo’s annoyed, blaise is convinced he'll die, enzo’s just trying to stay out of it and draco’s researching ways to dispose of evidence. what started as a small mystery spirals out of control, and now they’re all in way deeper than they ever imagined. oops.

warnings: mentions of drugs, mentions of murder, but in a funny way (you’ll see lol), swearing, teenagers being teenagers

note: chapter one is finally here!! so excited to hear your opinions in the comments. also: what do we think about the possible love interest hinted at the end? are we in favor??

mattheo riddle was sitting on a couch in the slytherin common room, body bend forward, only the the tip of his arse still on the seat. he was holding a magnifying glass, studying a piece of parchment on the table in front of him.

"huh" theo muttered when he came down the stairs and saw mattheo's weird position. "working on your divination essay? you know we have to submit it in three days, you're about five days too early"

mattheo rolled his eyes at his friends lame joke, but didn't look up from the parchment.

"he's been staring at that for the past twenty minutes" draco added, who was slumped on an armchair across from mattheo, reading the newspaper. "he's acting all mysterious"

"that was awesome" blaise' voice suddenly bounced off the walls of the common room, when he and enzo entered, highfiving each other, before peeling out of their quidditch gear. they threw themselves down on the sofa on either side of mattheo, who frowned in annoyance.

"it was pretty peaceful before you guys came along" he muttered, eyeing theo, blaise and enzo.

"well, what's ruined your day, huh?" blaise puffed out air like he was smoking a cigarette, as he leaned back on the sofa and tried to reach for mattheo's shoulder, who moved out of the way before blaise was able to touch him.

"yeah" enzo agreed. "we missed you on the pitch. blaise learned this really cool—“

"this is serious, okay?" mattheo interrupted, reaching for his parchment, that theo had been studying while mattheo was preoccupied.

"that just looks like random numbers" theo shrugged, a little surprised by mattheo's sudden maturity.

"he believes it's a code" draco exclaimed with a roll of his eyes.

mattheo, completely ignoring draco, put on a knowing look. "i believe it to be a code" he said, matter of factly.

draco pointed a lame hand in mattheo's direction, followed by a very clear facial expression that basically said: 'i told you, he's crazy.'

theo sighed, realizing that he probably wouldn't be able to spend the rest of his day in peace, if he wouldn't indulge further. "a code?" he asked. "what makes you think that?"

"well" mattheo smiled smugly, like he had just been waiting for someone to ask about his investigation. "i spyed on your sister—" he paused at theo's sharp glance and lowering gaze. "not like that, mate, come on." mattheo shook his head, like he couldn't fathom theo jumping to such a conclusion. "well, i heard her talking, to pansy. they were discussing something dangerous, i just immediately knew"

"what did they say?" enzo perked up. "are they in danger?"

"life-threatening danger" mattheo nodded ominiously.

theo crossed his arms. "are you sure?" he exchanged a glance with blaise. "last time you said that, you got us convinced pansy had a stalker. turns out her and y/n had been talking about an episode of 'unsolved mysteries', but by the time we realized that mcgonnagall didn't really care anymore, did she?"

"that was a simple mistake, could've happened to anyone"

"i still have nightmares about that day" enzo muttered.

"i had to step down from my position as a prefect!" draco argued. "i was only allowed to be one the next year for special services, which required me to be filch's little helper for a month"

"i said i was sorry" mattheo crossed his arms in annoyance. "and this time i'm sure, by the way."

"you are?" enzo asked.

"i am" mattheo confirmed. "this message isn't any regular one. i know those numbers. it's part of benny's code"

"benny?" blaise repeated. "you mean blackout benny?" he asked with a worried expression as he leaned forward to try and study theo's reaction.

theo's face had whitened, shortly getting rid of any emotion, before anger crossed his features. "i swear to god, mattheo, if i find out my sister's taking heroin or cocaine, you're gonna die a painful death"

"what?" mattheo asked stunned. "what do i have to do with that?"

"i don't know" theo shrugged sarcastically. "who was the one to buy coke from benny for that ravenclaw party last year?"

"that was one time"

"impossible" blaise shook his head. "either you suddenly have eidetic memory, —what should be impossible after all the weed you smoked— or you used that code often enough to remember it."

"i'm kinda convinced it's the second one" enzo shrugged.

"i'm gonna kill you" theo muttered between clenched teeth, but draco's arm shot forward, before he was able to throw himself at mattheo.

"maybe we should all calm down" draco send a sharp look in theo's direction, who finally nodded.

"yeah, yeah" mattheo nodded, slumping back onto the couch, from which he had risen the second he thought he might have to fight theo.

"let's not jump to conclusions without properly thinking"

"couldn't we just ask black— i mean benny, what y/n and pansy wanted?" enzo suggested.

"and get roped into this?" blaise asked in disbelief. "who knows how deep they're in. it starts with coke and quickly evolves to a cartel level of involvement."

"i think we're still pretty far from that" theo smiled sarcastically.

"you all go ahead and search for benny" draco directed.

"and what about you?" mattheo asked confused.

"i'm gonna stay back and search for legal ways to dispose of evidence." he sent a look in theo's direction, who had started frowning at the mention of evidence. "just in case of course"

"sure" theo nodded. the others were easier to convice as they got up from their position and followed mattheo outside the common room.

"so where do we find benny?" blaise asked as soon as they were out of the dungeon, he looked around suspiciously, as if someone was spying on them.

"the code is the answer" mattheo grinned, pointing at the confusing numbers. “each number stands for a different information.”

"i think i got it", enzo mumbled, studying the parchment, mattheo held in the middle of the four. "ehh, he's waiting behind the witch with the black hat? no, wait next to hagrids— does this even make any sense?" he looked at theo, who quietly shook his head.

"he's in the courtyard" mattheo shrugged. "benny had these complicated codes back when he started, but he always forgot where he was supposed to be, so he started handing out the same over and over again. he's in the courtyard, trust me."

"i'm not so sure we should" theo send mattheo a suspicious glance, before he started walking in the direction of the courtyard, enzo right behind him.

a hand slipped onto mattheo's shoulder. "i'm getting the baddest vibes from this, mattheo" blaise muttered, quiet enough for the others to not hear. "maybe we should start asking ourselves how much we love pansy and y/n"

"yeah" mattheo nodded ominiously. "come on."

the courtyard was empty when the slytherins arrived, but there was a shadow creeping behind a tree and when he heard the approaching steps, benny revealed himself.

"remember, confidence is key" mattheo reminded his friends. "we don't know what's going on, but that doesn't mean benny knows that"

"sayonara, nott!" blackout benny greeted.

"'sayonara' means goodbye, idiot" theo crossed his arms, unamused.

"wow" benny shook his head, pressing a hand against his chest as if he had been wounded by theo's words. "why so hostile?"

"yo, benny," blaise stepped in front of theo, puffing out his chest like he was auditioning for a gangster drama. "we need answers. pronto. and no funny business, alright?"

benny squinted. "funny business? i am funny business. what are you even talking about?"

mattheo stepped forward, his expression dark, dramatic, and entirely too intense for the situation. "we know you know about everything, benny."

benny blinked. "what?"

"you know what," mattheo said cryptically and benny shook his head cluelessly.

"don’t lie to us, benny," blaise jumped in, his voice shaking slightly. "we know the stakes are high, but some of us—" he paused for dramatic effect, swallowing hard, "—some of us might not make it out alive."

"okay, whoa," benny held up his hands. "what in merlin’s saggy socks are you talking about? make it out of what?"

theo sighed, glancing at blaise with an incredulous look in his eyes. "ignore him," he furrowed his brows, stepping closer. "have you talked to my sister today?"

"oh" benny smiled and a smug smirk displayed itself on his features. "depends"

"depends?" blaise repeated with a sudden panic in his voice. "oh god we know too much, right? and now we've seen your face, there's no other way" he sank to his knees in front of benny and closed his eyes, as if he was waiting for an incoming shot or hex. "i mean i always knew i would die this way, i'm sure another way would've been way too boring considering my bright personality, at least i go down like—"

"what the fuck are you doing?" mattheo interrupted, dragging blaise back onto his feet by his arm.

"i'd like to point out that we've known how benny looked for years" enzo added and hid a giggle behind his hand. "also: how long was that final monologue supposed to be?"

"you're not gonna kill us?" blaise questioned, opening one eye and then the other to glance at benny.

"the fuck? of course not, i'm selling coke, i'm not a fucking killer"

"well, matter of interpretation" theo shrugged. "but calm down, blaise"

"so, as i was saying" benny muttered, sending a sharp gaze in blaise's direction as if to try and see how many times he would throw himself down on the ground. "depe—well, how much is it worth to you?" benny smirked.

"worth to us?" enzo repeated confused.

"due to your elaborate spending habits, i know you guys are loaded, don't go stupid on me now" benny held out his hand, moving his fingers, repeatedly opening and closing a fist. "well?"

theo sighed, before he grabbed a few galleons and threw them in benny's waiting hand. the others followed quickly after.

"i do think that might be enough to get me to talk" benny nodded, putting the money away. "pansy and y/n were here this morning and bought something for their, well, let's call it an event"

"event?" enzo repeated with furrowed brows.

"wow, very specific, thank you benny" mattheo rolled his eyes. "what did they buy?"

"supplies" benny shrugged, not even trying to break it down further. "well, the usual, had to bring it to one of those giant abondended classrooms"

"how much?" theo asked between clenched teeth.

"oh" benny laughed. "a lot. the girls spend more than double of what you guys just gave me"

"oh god. this is bad." blaise muttered. "we all know what kind of event need this much of supplies—"

"a party?" enzo suggested.

"a massive smuggle" blaise quickly interrupted before enzo could continue. “drug cartel, mafia, pablo escobar level”

"my sister isn't smuggling drugs," theo shook his head, clearly annoyed at blaise's suggestion.

“how do you know pablo escobar?” enzo muttered confused.

“well, i’ve done my research”

“you mean you’ve watched narcos” mattheo rolled his eyes. “told you muggle shows were stupid. you’ve turned all paranoid.”

"well, whatever your sister is doing, i can’t discuss it further, because i have to go now" benny said, mingling himself back into the conversation. "got places to be"

"very practical, huh?" mattheo called after him. "you're probably involved in this—in this eh— drug scheme! yeah!"

"so what now?" enzo asked, staring at the door benny had just disappeared behind. "i mean we know close to nothing, right?"

"we know enough" blaise disagreed. "enough to keep out of it now"

"keep out of it?" theo repeated. "whatever my sister got herself into, i won't just leave her to deal with it on her own."

"well, she's still got pansy" blaise shrugged, unbothered. "isn't one of us going down with her enough?"

"no one's going down just now" enzo said, surprisingly calm. "what is the plan, theo?"

"well, i think we should find draco, tell him what we know and see how to go from there and maybe also search for that classroom."

"i didn't know your name was theo" theo furrowed his brows and send a look to mattheo, who shrugged like he had simply overheard that enzo hadn't been talking to him.

the slytherins walked back through the door to the castle and into the direction of the common room. before they could walk down the stairs to the dungeon, a frantic draco came running up, a thick book in hand.

"ha!" he called as soon as his eyes fell on his friends. "i got it!! the perfect loophole: we're allowed to get rid of evidence, as long as it doesn't include any illegal substances—" he lowered the book. "no! why are you all looking at me like that? took me an hour to find this"

"well, draco—" enzo muttered, but was interrupted by mattheo.

"they're in deep" he quickly said. "meth, coke, heroin and whatever else comes to mind."

"drama queen" theo muttered with a roll of his eyes. "as long as we make sure it ends now and doesn't escalate further, no one is in deep."

blaise shook his head in disbelief. “we’re already in deep. why can’t we just save ourselves and send a nice postcard to pansy and y/n in azkaban? you know, like, ‘thinking of you—hope the dementors are chill.’”

“stop whining,” theo growled, clapping him on the shoulder. “if they’re going down, we’re going down too. that’s what friends do.”

blaise shook his head, muttering, “friends don’t let friends get killed by drug smuggling”

"so far you're the only one speaking about getting killed" enzo smiled. "so you might be a tad bit paranoid. we just go and find pansy and y/n in that abandoned classroom and everything will turn out to be okay."

the rest of the group nodded, before they fell into easy step, enzo and draco following the group as the last.

"i don't enjoy saying this" draco whispered, so only enzo was able to understand. "but if it's really something to do with smuggle, then we're doomed. no one comes clean from that, not even in the wizarding world."

"i know" enzo nodded, sending a fake smile in blaise's direction, when he turned around and looked at draco and enzo suspiciously. "we just have to hope it's anything but that."

"hey, nott?" a sudden voice behind them made them perk up. hermione granger was standing at the entrance of the library, a stack of books under her arm and a piece of paper in her other hand. she was waving it around frantically.

"granger?" draco and theo said at the same time.

"your sister left this here earlier" she handed the paper to theo. "don't know if it's important, but i'd hate losing stuff i wrote down while studying, so i thought she should have it.“

"ehh, thank you" theo nodded. "i'll pass it on."

hermione send the group a tight-lipped smile, tinged with a little bit of suspicion, before she turned around and started walking in the direction of the gryffindor common room.

"well, are you gonna read it?" mattheo questioned, as the five of them stood leaning over the paper in theo's hand.

"i don't know" theo mumbled unsure. "what if it's private?"

"i think private went flying out the window about an hour ago" draco remarked, crossing his arms.

theo sighed, but nodded and unfolded the parchment. this one was a little simpler than the last, a list with names. it took them all a moment to comprehend that their own ones were written on it.

"i'm the only one talking about killing, huh?" blaise screeched at enzo, before he ripped the paper from theo's hands, holding it up and pointing at it like a madman. "this is a fucking HITLIST!"

enzo shrugged. "it could very well just be a guest—“

"AND LOOK WHO'S NAME IS RIGHT AT THE TOP!" blaise continued screaming. "WELL, YOU GUESSED IT! MINE!!!"

"woah" mattheo muttered, his eyes scanning the names. "if anything i should be worried. my name is the first one, yours is only the third."

"technically you just have to be faster than mattheo and draco," theo shrugged sarcastically.

"well, that's really comforting, theo" blaise' eye seemed to be twitching in an unusual rhythm. "especially knowing your name comes last between all of us. i bet you're just waiting to throw us under the bus and save yourself."

"don't be ridiculous, blaise" enzo shook his head, trying to reach for the list, but blaise moved his hand before he was able to.

"enzo is right" draco nodded. "theo would never do something like that, come on."

"he doesn't have to" blaise nodded as if he was seeing through everything. "i mean he's got his killer sister to take care of it, am i right?"

"wait when did we establish y/n was a killer?" mattheo asked confused, exchanging glances with theo. "thought she was just a coke whore or whatever that kind of job is called nowadays."

"you've all gone way too far with your disrespect" theo muttered between clenched teeth. "my sister is neither a killer nor a fucking coke whore, what the actual fuck mattheo?"

"i'm just the messenger" mattheo held up his hands in surrender.

"yeah! he's right!" blaise nodded frantically. "and you know what they say about the messenger? DON'T KILL HIM!!"

"let's just all calm down, eh?" enzo suggested in a soft voice, one of his hands each on blaise's and theo's shoulders. "we just have to find out what's going on. and that abandoned classroom seems to be the best way to do that, right?"

the group all collectively nodded, while mumbling a few inaudible sentences.

the slytherins continued to walk through the giant hallways of the castle, following noise around corners, until they arrived in front of a door, which was probably the one you and pansy were behind.

mattheo outstretched his hand to twist the knob, when a person quickly slid between him and the still closed door.

the group made similar noises of surprise.

blaise screamed loudly.

"you can't go in there" pansy smiled sweetly, "not yet anyway"

"what are you hiding?" mattheo narrowed his eyes, watching the girls expression closely.

pansy furrowed her brows and crossed her arms. "why are you so eager? i thought today was firewhiskey friday. shouldn't you be slurring your words by now?"

"this isn't funny, pansy" theo interrupted from behind. "we're worried."

"worried?" pansy repeated with a hint of surprise. "unusually caring for you guys, huh? and you, blaise? been through it, what?"

blaise exchanged a nervous glance with draco. "for the protocol: i know nothing, about nothing and have no idea who's involved in anything. that should do it, yeah" he nodded, quite proud about saving himself from a seemingly dangerous situation.

"involved in what?" pansy smiled as she shook her head. "is it possible y'all watched too many muggle films about cartels or something?"

"there!" blaise screeched, pointing an accusing finger at pansy, who raised her brows impossibly higher. "she said the c-word. oh god, this is it."

"relax, blaise" enzo clamped a hand around blaise's shoulder. "that was obviously a joke. where's y/n?" he asked, with a little hope to break up the situation before it could escalate.

pansy's eyes wandered to the door. "she's busy"

"pansy" theo muttered in a warning tone. "i want to see my sister. now"

"oh god, she's probably already dead" blaise shook his head, the panic temporarily returning.

"she's not dead, idiot" pansy rolled her eyes. "she's just doing something at the moment."

"doing what? coke?" mattheo snorted, but his laughter quickly died down at the expression on pansy's face.

"you're gonna let us through the door, pansy" theo demanded.

"yeah, he's right" draco nodded with slumped down shoulders, already accepting his fate. "there's no point in hiding it any longer."

"hm" pansy nodded. "i guess you're right"

faster than any of them could react, she had thrown the door open. blaise winced, throwing his hands up in front of his face.

"surprise!" the room was filled with party decor in every possible corner. there was a huge banner that read 'happy birthday', drinks and food had been organized on a table and various guests were smiling at the clueless group of slytherins, who all seemed to sigh in relief at the sight in front of them.

"what—?" blaise let his hands sink down as his eyes flew around the room, almost passing out from the shock of well, nothing threatening ahead of him.

"hey guys" you smiled, walking through the crowd of people. "happy birthday, mattheo" you grinned, hugging the boy, who reluctantly returned the gesture.

"eh thank you" he muttered with a nod, before turning in draco's direction. "that was today?"

draco just shrugged.

mattheo had been so busy with this whole conspiracy theory, he had completely forgotten what day it was, not that he was normally very excited to remember his birthday. this was probably the first party he had gotten since he had been a kid.

that realisation made him unfreeze, as he broke into a smile. "thank you!" he repeated, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before walking into the room and greeting the other guests.

"what's gotten into you?" you still smiled, but looked a little confused as you looked from one boy to the next. they still hadn't walked into the room, the same confusion on their faces as on yours.

"oh god" theo finally mumbled, walking through the group until he reached you, pressing you close to his chest and hugging you. "i'm so glad you're not a coke-whore"

"huh?" you mumbled against your brother's chest.

"long story" draco shrugged, when you found his eyes.

"oh" you suddenly remembered. "so i guess you guys found the clue pansy and i left behind?"

"clue?" enzo repeated.

"well, we thought the best way to keep mattheo from finding everything out was to keep him busy with thinking he's finding everything out." you smiled. "seems like it worked better than we thought" you chuckled nervously.

"benny said you bought a lot of supplies" theo added.

"yeah, party supplies" you nodded. "benny has a side hustle, he's pretty good with the decor and stuff"

"fuck" blaise suddenly said, breaking out in obnoxious laughter.

"oh yeah" enzo said at that. "blaise was sure he was going to die."

"—die for you, y/n" blaise interrupted. "i was ready to sacrifice my own life, so that the bad guys would spare yours"

"aww blaise" you smiled after him as he walked around you and into the party.

"ladies, who's ready for some blaise?"

"don't believe a word of that" draco chuckled, clasping a hand around your shoulder and squeezing it, before he followed after blaise.

"well, now that we've discussed that, are you gonna come inside or what?" you asked, pointing behind you.

enzo and theo answered at the same time: "yeah."

sometime later, you were standing near the table with the drinks, watching mattheo cut the huge birthday cake in the middle of the crowd, when enzo stepped next to you, holding a cup filled with your favorite drink in your direction.

"oh, thanks" you smiled surprised, taking the cup from his hand.

"that was a crazy afternoon" enzo giggled. "but i have to pay pansy and you my respect, you guys got us pretty good. mattheo was busy the whole time, so i guess it was pretty successful. i think the code for benny was enough for all of us to start panicking."

"you really did?"

"well, mostly blaise, but yeah" he nodded, taking a sip from his cup. "i had a feeling it was something like this in reality, although i have to admit i was unsure from time to time too."

"you knew?"

enzo shrugged. "you have a lot of qualities but dealing or smuggling drugs isn't one of them, no offense"

you laughed at that and enzo felt a sudden warmth spread in his chest at the sound.

you opened your mouth to say something else, when enzo and you both saw pansy standing across the room, eagerly waving you over. "oh, seems like i'm needed."

"yeah" enzo nodded with a sigh of disappointment. "it's probably important."

"probably" you nodded, before you glanced back at him. "well, thanks for the drink and everything else" you smiled, before you went off, helping pansy to reorganize a few rogue balloons.

enzo wasn't able to take his eyes off of you.

your smile was enchanting and he was sure he had been under the influence of your special magic longer than he realized.

TAGLIST !

@mehrsdigitaldiary @swaysister @shyamanuensis @mattiesgf @shari-berri @the-lurking-await-you @marikajhaha @livia7137 @idiotussupremus @catiwinky

let me know if you want to be added!!

[delirious-donna]

The Surprise [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: it’s 2am and here I am posting this smut-filled fic because I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about this man. p.s. requests are open for Higuruma specifically so drop me an ask if you wanna give me some ideas for everyone’s favourite lawyer!

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: lingerie, pussy drunk Hiromi (it’s canon don’t fight me), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it folks) and other goodies

Masterlist

“Will that be everything for you today?” The cheery assistant asked offering a genuine smile whilst they rang through your purchases and packed them carefully into a neat little box.

Your stomach fluttered with the thought of what might transpire this coming weekend, a long-planned weekend that couldn’t arrive quick enough. The delicate tissue paper wrapped around the items inside the box before the assistant closed it over, tied a ribbon securely and placed it in a paper bag.

“Yes, that’s it. Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it!”

With a bounce in your step and a sizeable dent in your bank balance, you exited the boutique store to daydream about your husband’s reaction to your little splurge. Neither of you were accustomed to dropping large sums of money so randomly, both believing that an air of caution and frugality would see you through any potential storms on the horizon, but you had walked past this store so many times and finally been tempted into their den of sinful delights.

Inclusive-sized mannequins displayed a range of differently styled lingerie, from demure bridal wear to raunchy strips of leather and wide mesh that would leave very little to the imagination. At first, you were convinced it would only be window shopping, however, when you spied an elegant-looking black bodysuit that seemed like it would hold all your bits in without compromising the sex appeal element, it was game over.

Once you were interested, the friendly young assistant swooped in and soon you were trying it on in the fancy dressing room. The lighting was complimenting rather than garishly fluorescent, and the lull of soft, sensual music added to the overall experience, one you were rather enjoying. The strapless bodysuit hugged your curves and accentuated your décolletage nicely. Clearly, it was designed by scientists to support your breasts without cumbersome straps, and you silently praised their ingenuity. Paired with crotchless fishnet tights that you could secure beneath the suit—a suggestion from your enthusiastic little helper—you knew that Hiromi would likely lose his mind and you couldn’t wait.

Your poor, overworked and perpetually exhausted husband had been burning the candle at both ends for the past nearly four months, neck deep in a case that if he were to win would be a monumental victory in his career. In support, you packed him off every morning with a full lunch consisting of his favourite foods, mostly to encourage him to actually eat instead of consuming mug after mug of rancid instant coffee. In your evenings, you helped him go over witness testimonies, read over his arguments for clarity, and did everything you could to lighten his load around the house. It wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement, you both knew that, and to say he appreciated your support was an understatement.

That’s why when he told you that it was all drawing to a conclusion and that he was cautiously optimistic it would end in his favour, you revelled in that knowledge. Whether it did come to fruition or not, his weekend would be free, and he promised to spend some real quality time with you without the cloud of looming work. There was nothing more he could do, no more past cases he could study and the thought of basking in his undivided attention warmed your heart and soul.

With two days remaining before your scheduled weekend plans to do absolutely nothing but relax and unwind in each other’s presence, you again peeked at the box you’d tucked into your side of the wardrobe, away from prying eyes. Maybe it was a bout of nerves, a moment of body consciousness, that made you pull your surprise out to examine the contents. Whatever it was, you worried your bottom lip once the intimate outfit was laid out on the bedspread.

“What was I thinking… this is too much,” you quietly scolded yourself.

Flopping beside the expensive scraps of fabric, you brushed a palm down your face and reminded yourself that you looked fucking divine in the changing room of the boutique, so why would it be any different now? More so, you knew deep in your heart that Hiromi adored you and thought you were a goddess, one he claimed he didn’t deserve.

A few moments later, you stood in front of the mirrored wardrobe to scrutinise your reflection. Your eyes narrowed as you tugged the sweetheart cups into place and felt the soft squish of your breast jiggle inside. Turning to the side, a hand ran the length of your torso with a grin unfurling at the tight hug of the sheer-panelled fabric. Damn, your backside looked real good from this angle. But maybe the fishnets were too much, you mused, turning this way and that.

You ran your fingers through your hair, wondering if you should try to style it, maybe give it some more volume and texture. It was at that moment, whilst making kissy faces at your reflection with your hands scrunching handfuls of your hair and up on your tippy toes to extend the length of your legs, that the bedroom door opened, and you froze like a deer in headlights.

~

Higuruma Hiromi was on cloud nine. Not only had he won a career-defining case against all the odds, but the judge had also taken less time to deliberate than anyone expected they would. After a hearty swig of celebratory champagne drank from crappy paper cups with his partner and their secretaries, he was on the first train home to truly celebrate with the only person that mattered—you.

What he didn’t expect to find when he entered the house as stealthily as he could manage was the vision of you standing in the middle of the bedroom looking like one of the pin-up models from the magazines he would hide under his mattress as a young man.

Like a slightly tipsy house cat, he tiptoed his way through the rooms, listening for signs of you and driving straight towards the bedroom to surprise you with his unannounced return. The door bounced open on its hinges and he stood, shell-shocked for a moment before it turned to white-hot appreciation.

You looked beautiful, stunning, breathtaking even. There weren’t enough colourful adjectives for how he felt about you at any given time, but right now, modelling a black bodysuit that hugged both your butt and your breasts, he was entirely dumbstruck. Hiromi didn’t know where to look, or whether you’d rather he look away given your strangled yelp of surprise at his sudden appearance. You made no effort to cover yourself or shove him out the door, no, you both faced one another as if neither of you knew what to do or say.

His eyes continued to betray him, slowly caressing the length of your figure and finding new things to appreciate; the sweetheart cups, the gauzy panels that allowed him glimpses of your skin beneath, and not to mention the fishnet tights. He hadn’t seen you wear anything like those since your dating years, and he had forgotten how much he missed them, or how many he had ruined by ripping through the gusset in his haste.

“What are you doing home?” You glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and back to your husband, heat filling your face but something else followed on the tails of your embarrassment, something more pleasant.

Hiromi ran this thumb over his mouth, gaze pointedly fixed on your chest, and you cleared your throat with emphasis until he finally met your eye and the arch of your eyebrow. Already his neck looked red, like a rash had spread from below the collar of his shirt and travelled towards his jaw. If you could describe a person as having hearts for eyes, it would be one Higuruma Hiromi and you adored him for his open adoration.

“We… I won,” he managed weakly, smiling as if coming out of a daze and you blinked for a moment while processing the words.

“You won?”

He chuckled. “I won.”

A wealth of emotions passed over your face until you ended with ecstatic pride, tears near pricking your eyes as you launched yourself into his arms and peppered his cheeks and nose with enough kisses to make him blush more furiously. His hands settled on your hips, his touch more hesitant than you would expect given the circumstances and you pulled back to give him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be more excited than this.”

“Darling…” he started, skimming his fingertips up and down your sides before rounding to your full backside and squeezing as he spoke. “What’s this?”

In your joy, you had forgotten that Hiromi had walked in on you wearing the lingerie that was meant to be for this weekend and meant to be a surprise. You guessed it still had been, although not the one you planned. “Oh, just a little something to show my hardworking man that I love and adore him. Nothing much.”

“Nothing much…” he repeated in a disbelieving whisper. A finger ran the length of your spine, from the top of your backside to near the base of your skull, dragging it slowly and watching you shudder beneath his deliberate touch. Your shoulder blades shifted, pushing your chest out further and into his, which earned you a groan of appreciation.

“I wouldn’t call this nothing much. You look like a wet dream come to life.”

He walked you backwards, the scent of champagne hot on his breath and your stomach curled into a mass of twisted anticipation—heavy in the depths of your belly. Your thighs crashed into the edge of the bed and Hiromi used your moment of imbalance to shove you atop, quickly shucking out of his jacket and crawling over you.

“Hiromi,” you squeaked between peals of laughter. The man in question only hummed in response, his hooded eyes heavy with nothing that spoke of fatigue. The whisky colour of his eyes appeared blown almost completely black by the dilation of his pupils, and he licked over his lips in what looked like anticipation of a hearty meal.

That meal was you…

Any protest you might have offered died in your throat when he claimed your mouth like a man possessed. His tongue curled over your teeth, pushing the memory of champagne into the space he dominated and greedily swallowing your answering moan. His forearms bracketed your head, keeping you caged and unable to run from him, not that you had any desire to, not when you could feel the press of his cock thickening against your lower half.

Loosening the knot of his tie with one finger, you took the moment to grab fistfuls of the shirt at his back, tugging the tails out of his trousers and sliding your palms beneath the starched surface to scratch along his spine. Hiromi shuddered, the disconnect of your lips an audible pop that left a web of saliva between you, only breaking with a quick swipe of your pink tongue.

“I don’t even have my make-up or hair done, you beast!” The half-hearted protest fell on deaf ears, or so you thought when his mouth moved to your neck and down to your collarbone, sucking little blooming lovebites on his journey. When he reached the abundant swell of your breasts, he glanced up whilst his tongue pathed across the top of your left breast, dipping into the valley between and then resuming the path over the right.

“You think I need face paint or styled hair to love you more? Fuck, sweetheart… I nearly came in my briefs the minute I opened the door.” The length of his aquiline nose nudged between your breasts, nuzzling the soft mounds like a cat warming by the fire. Carding your fingers through his hair, you wriggled beneath him and let out a breathy sigh, the weight and conviction of his love settling over you in perfect comfort. There would be no more argument from you, and Hiromi won for the second time that day.

With methodical slowness he kissed his way down your body, stopping to lave the sheer panels at either side of your abdomen and forcing you to arch from the warm sensation of his eager tongue. You’d barely managed to get his shirt off his shoulders before he was exploring you like this was his first time with your body. The white button-up hung down his back, sleeves caught by his elbows, and he made no move to strip it off much to your annoyance.

He stopped abruptly when he reached your pelvic mound, chin resting there whilst his fingers trailed the arch of your foot, up the inside of your calf and tickled behind your knee. “Stop that, mister!” You scolded with laughter threatening to bubble out.

“Spread ‘em and I will,” he challenged with a smirk.

The space between your freshly parted thighs became his home, an arm wound around your hip pawing at the fat of your thigh and the line where it met your arse, eliciting shivers that rippled over your skin like a calm lake disturbed by a skimming stone. He fingered the two snaps that kept the bodysuit in place, stroking firmly over your clothed cunt and pushing the barrier deeper until it started to feel sticky from your arousal. Looking all too smug, he freed the snaps with a grunt of satisfaction, sure that his next step would be to rip through the gusset of your raunchy fishnets so he could taste you. That moment never came.

You felt the vibration shudder through your husband, his head falling forward to obscure what you could see of his face, and you rocked your hips back and forth in invitation. The cool air of the room contrasted by the hot fan of his breath on your slit made you clench around a disappointing nothing, frowning at his sudden pause.

For a long moment, there was only silence. When he looked up, his expression nearly stole your breath. Thick black eyebrows pinched together, visible strain around his drooped eyes and a throaty whine made your pussy flutter with need. This was the Hiromi that only came out to play every now and again. The one who would wring you like a wet dish towel for just one more orgasm, one more mouthful of your hot nectar.

“Crotchless, really?” he murmured, dragging a finger across your puffy folds where the thin membrane of the tights should have resided and you nearly jolted upwards to the ceiling, having forgotten that little fact in the heat of the moment.

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you gave a cheeky wink. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about all the pairs of tights you’ve ruined over the years. These were just a… precaution.” Hiromi groaned, thrusting his face into your pussy without warning. The flat of his tongue ran the length of you, making you perfectly slippery in mere seconds, only for the tip of the wet muscle to fuck into your entrance immediately.

“Oh, fuck… Hiro!”

You yanked great tufts of his hair to no avail; he was lost to eating you out like a man starved. The prominent slope of his nose slid back and forth across your bundle of nerves, and it lit up your insides like the continuous explosion of miniature firecrackers.

Whining from his sudden onslaught, you tried to run by easing up the bed, but your attempts were shot down in flames by sharp insistent tugs of your hips. Hiromi was enthusiastic at the best of times when it came to going down on you, but it was nothing compared to right now. The wet squelching sucks of his lips and tongue flooded the bedroom, only being accompanied by your decadent moans and panting breaths as you tried not to lose your sanity entirely.

Hiromi was lost in you; the scent of your favourite body wash, the taste of your arousal when it trickled from your core mixed with the slight salt of your skin, the plush silk of your thighs beneath his prodding fingertips and the unrestrained noises that caressed his ears.

He almost missed your orgasm so clouded was his mind in the quest to turn you into a puddle of liquid goo for only his consumption. The wave of it crested through the length of your body, vibrating every limb and twitching each nerve ending. Your spine arched from the unmade sheets, the hand coiled tight in Hiromi’s hair spasming and tugging without even meaning to and that’s when he noticed. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his lips around your pulsing clit and sucked it deeper into his mouth.

Stars winked into your vision at being thrust from one orgasm directly into another so violently. Your pussy fluttered ceaselessly, a craving deep in your gut to be filled at all costs, yet right now all you could do was hold on for dear life whilst you bucked and rutted against your husband’s face, wetting it thoroughly. He nosed at your quaking thigh, sharp incisors nipping your yielding flesh until you yelped and tried to close your legs without success.

You became aware of movement, the absence of shoulders beneath your thighs and you blinked to find a desperate predator stripping off his clothes whilst prowling back and forth at the foot of the bed. Hiromi grasped his cock, tugging it down to the base to spread the leaked precum that continued to dribble from his cockhead. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he had already cum, but he was always the excitable type who would leak and leak until you did something about it, usually opting to take him down your throat until he convulsed and spilt everything he had to offer.

Your hand trailed lower down your body, fingers playing in the spit-soaked mess he’d left behind in his hurry to stand and strip. Hiromi whined; head cocked to the side as he watched you play idly with your puffy lips flooded with the surge of blood and circling your pert little pearl. He fucked his fist harder, the other hand rolling his heavy balls until his stomach sucked in and your nostrils flared in warning.

“C’mere mister lawyer, I don’t want you wasting your orgasm when it could be filling me nicely.”

How quickly the tables could turn. One minute he was the predator, pawing and demanding, taking what he wanted without question, and the next he was the prey. Trapped on his back with cheeks a ruddy hue and eyes that begged for clemency. Your much small hand encased his dick, twisting your palm on each upward stroke while you straddled him and rocked yourself against the balls he’d just been palming.

His hands shook with restraint as they reached for your breasts, filling his broad palms and massaging them until you dipped low to claim his lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his mouth and the sensation empowered you, fucking his throbbing cock through your folds until he twitched and whimpered some more.

“Please… fuck. Need to be inside. Might not last. God, you’re so fucking sexy. Don’t deserve you.” Hiromi babbled every syllable, sounding drunk when there was little to no alcohol left in his system.

His fingertips dipped inside the cups of your bodysuit, tweaking at your nipples and you indulged his silent request by allowing him to fold the cups down and let the spill of your tits fill his face. With renewed vigour and enthusiasm, he mouthed at you and ran his tongue in circles around your nipples one at a time.

You keened at the familiar sensation, swept away by a current of pure indulgence when he moved to suckle you. It was the perfect moment to strike, with Hiromi distracted in flicking his tongue over and over, round and round your swollen bud, you guided him to notch at your entrance and slowly sank onto his needy dick. He grunted; his grip tightening on your waist, but he refused to come up for air, continuing to nudge his nose into your breast, lips pulling the nipple taut until he finally released with a gasp.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you more than I can express.”

Hiromi worshipped you with his gaze, eyes full of devotion and unbridled passion whilst you rode him steadily. The sticky pap pap pap of your pelvis meeting his was the soundtrack to your lovemaking, because beneath the sexy lingerie and the ideas you had planned for the weekend, that’s what this was and always would be. You knew he didn’t need the extra faff to love you with his whole heart. You knew that he was aroused by you simply walking through the kitchen in a pair of his boxers.

You knew he loved you for you.

His dappled cheeks darkened further, the furrow of his brow telling of how he was trying to stave off his release, but you wanted him as undone as you had been, and you would not be denied. Leaning forward, your palms found purchase on his shoulders, breasts bouncing freely in time with your hips, and you squeezed around his shaft until the vein in his temple popped and he let out a guttural groan.

Hiromi grabbed around your middle, flipping you up and over so that he could thrust himself into overstimulation without hindrance. Pressing your thighs to your chest, you heard the telltale rip and knew that another pair of tights had fallen victim to Higuruma Hiromi despite your best efforts to keep them safe. His swollen cock pumped thick spurts of his milky cum against your cervix, filling you to the brim yet continuing to sloppily thrust in and out.

“-cum again… gotta—fuckkk. You’re so tight,” he bit through the words, fighting the steady burn of overstimulation to see you orgasm for the third time and you were close. A glob of spit landed against your clit, thick fingers shaking from exertion rubbing the frothy mess into you with insistent motions. He was a man possessed, falling apart for him was as easy as drawing breath and he caught you on your free fall.

You chanted his name in some semblance of a prayer, thrashing and clawing at anything you could reach until you milked him again and he lost the ability to hold himself up. Hiromi fell atop you, his face pressed into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hot shuddering moans stifled by his mouth on your neck while he weakly tried to bear some of his weight onto an arm.

“Stop squirming, you’re not that heavy, Hiro,” you teased with a light slap against his back.

Once you could both speak without sounding winded, you combed your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, moving the strands that stuck to his forehead away until you could trace his eyebrows, his jaw, and the bridge of his nose. “Y’know… you ripped my tights—again.”

Hiromi chuckled, rubbing his cheek against your chest. “I did, and I’d do it again. Maybe give them a miss if we do this again, hm?”

“You liked the surprise then?”

“I already told you that I did, not that I needed it. All I ever need is you.”

It was your turn to chuckle, booping the tip of his nose. “Maybe when I show you the receipt, you’ll change your tune.”

“… sweetheart. How much did it cost? Don’t roll away, missy! Answer my question. Hey. Hey! You have to answer the lawyer when they ask a question.”

[sadpartita]

How Mileven Strengths Byler?

I’ve been analyzing Stranger Things for a while now, and over time, I’ve come to a thesis: Mileven is actually the greatest proof that Byler is endgame, or at the very least, Byler is the most coherent narrative resolution for Mike, Will, and Eleven’s character arcs.

This post is my take on why that’s the case. It’s also a reflection of how I’ve come to interpret the show over the years, even before I became part of the Byler community.

The points I raise here aren’t necessarily new or original, many of them have been discussed in the fandom already. But rather than focusing on what we see on screen and speculating about what it might mean, I wanted to take a slightly different route: looking at how these characters were constructed (in this case, Mike and El), and how their very creation generates meaning.

In that sense, my central argument is this: Mileven, by the way it's written and structured, actually reinforces Byler. Not because of subtext or hidden clues, but because of the internal logic of the characters themselves.

Disclaimer: This isn’t a claim that my reading is better than others, far from it. If it weren’t for the amazing discussions already happening in the fandom, I wouldn’t have been able to develop my own perspective. My goal is simply to show that, even through a different analytical lens, Byler still emerges as the most narratively satisfying resolution.

Now for a quick intro to the framework I’m using:

Semiotics is the study of how meaning is produced, not just in language, but in images, media, gestures, and especially in stories. I’m using a specific branch of semiotics here, French semiotics, particularly the work of Algirdas Julien Greimas. He developed a method for analyzing the deep structure of narratives: what’s really going on underneath the surface.

One of his most important tools is the actantial model, which maps out narrative roles, not just who the characters are, but how they function in the story. For example:

The subject is the one who wants something

The object is what they want

A helper aids the subject

An opponent gets in the way

And a manipulator pushes the subject to act

These roles aren’t fixed to one character, they can shift or overlap depending on the moment in the narrative.

When we apply this model to Mike and Eleven, some really interesting patterns show up, and not in Mileven’s favor.

This post will walk through those semiotic concepts and apply them to Stranger Things, focusing especially on Mike and Eleven, and how their relationship does (or doesn’t) work in terms of narrative structure. I’ll also touch on Mike and Will, and why that dynamic hits very differently.

You don’t need a background in theory to follow, I’ll explain things as we go.

Oh, and just so you know: I’ll be working from the most surface-level elements to the deepest ones in each analysis. So we’ll start with the obvious... and then dig in.

Eleven

Discursive Level

First, let's understand how the show creates meaning through Eleven. Usually we are shown Eleven through the lenses of other characters, taking season 1 as an example, through the main boys' point of view of what Eleven actually is. For the audience, this creates an ambiguity, we aren't sure about what she really is, reinforcing her mysterious and "othered" position.

Also, the show doesn't expose her story line at once, on the contrary, it tells by short flashbacks through the seasons that progressively makes us understand who she really is. Not only it mirrors her identity, that is also fragmented, but also elicit us to want to know more about her and, with more flashbacks, more complacent we are to her as an audience.

Now, taking the visual clues, her shaved head and sterile clothing from the beginning of the show (S1-S2) sets a dehumanized character, more an experiment than a child. While in season 3 she starts to use more colorful wardrobe, making a shift onto individualization and social integration.

Sound also makes a huge difference when Eleven is in the scene, specially when she uses her powers, the sound is never really comfortable, and, when it is, is silence, the complete absence of any noise, which is, for us human beings, something alien. That reinforces the idea that she is different, she is, in fact, an alien (having that ET comparison established), a thought she brings with her, but she didn't want to bring.

In the early seasons, sound is used to reflect Eleven’s disconnection from the world around her. In addition to the unsettling noises tied to her powers, there is also a lot of low, ominous background music when she’s involved in scenes where she’s escaping or hiding. The sound isn’t just about the action happening in the moment — it reflects her emotional state. When she’s hiding from the lab, or when she’s confronted by forces that want to control her, the sound emphasizes the danger and the isolation she feels.

As Eleven begins to settle into her role as part of the Hawkins group, there’s a shift in how sound is used around her. In season 3, the incorporation of more upbeat, familiar music, like pop songs (e.g., her "shopping montage"), signals her increasing sense of integration into society. However, even in these moments, the underlying tension of her powers and past still lingers. The sound design starts to incorporate both the social integration of her character (through music) and her emotional and supernatural isolation (through sound effects tied to her powers).

Narrative Level

In its initial state (S1-S2), El's object of value is clear: she wants to belong, to be loved, and to connect with others. She starts as an object of manipulation, something to be used, therefore, she wants to get away from that by being seen as a human, as an equal.

Taking through semiotics term is not yet a subject, she is an object, here Mike and Hopper are the subjects, they act, protect and do things related to her. Narratively saying, she is more as an object to Mike than an active agent herself.

From season 2 onwards, El slowly gets her subjecthood, therefore she acts by her own objectives. Her stay with Hopper is overprotective, but what makes her arc go forward are her own desires, the desire to discover, to understand that moves the narrative forward.

So, that's her first transformation from an object to a subject, therefore an actant. In season 2 is the first time that Eleven has a relationship that is different from a father-daughter situation, not only by encounter with Kali, but also the romantic movies she watched on the TV, and her late relationship with Mike.

In season 3, those ideals are broken. Max comes as a disruptor in Eleven's life, the only thing El knows at that point it Brenner, Mike and Hopper, so Max comes to change this perspective. It is with that relationship that El actively becomes a subject that not only acts based on their desires, but rejects imposed desires from other subjects.

So she not only changes the way she is, but breaks up with Mike, she pushes away one of the few pillars she has, which is a big character growth.

However, in the end of season 3 she loses everything. Hopper is dead, she no longer has powers, she is far away from Max, the only thing she can get back, though, is Mike, so she does.

Now, before continuing, you see how terrible this is? To be fair, subjugating a female character to this situation is ridiculous and something that should NEVER be gratified, but I'll dive more this in the conclusion

In season 4, El lies to Mike about her situation, she wants to perform an idea that she is whole without her powers, that she can be a normal person, because, in her mind, Mike won't like her if she shows fragility, she needs to be strong. With Mike not saying that he loves her confirming that, without her powers, he doesn't see her that way, that she needs them to be loved.

And, honestly, Mike's "monologue" only reinforces this into El's mind, he was only able to say "I love you" to her when she was using them, when she was being a superhero.

Fun fact: that Mike Confession Scene was NOT a monologue, I'll explain in another post. It is a theoretical thing that no one cares, but I need to say to sound smart.

Deep Semantic Oppositions

Now comes the hardest part: summarize El's character in a simple semantic opposition. And, to be honest, there are a few of them. The reason why that is important is that, when we build the previous two steps - narrative and discursive levels - we use them to justify this opposition, therefore, they are build to reinforce it.

El's opposition I'm diving into is object x subject. Why? That's her storyline, the whole show, the desire to be a subject, but being subjugated into an object by everyone around.

In the first seasons, she is more of an object, being act upon, being experimented, but also, being the key to others' actions (Papa's control, the lab's weaponization, Mike's need for love)

While in seasons 3 and 4, she claims her agency: chooses her name, clothes, friends and battles, the turning point being the break-up, where she rejects the object status, becoming so, a subject.

Mike Wheeler

Discursive Level

Discursively, Mike is a character constructed to be an emotional anchor, he wants to protect, and, when he can’t, he feels bad, feels out of place. His self-image is about being needed, he derives identity from being El’s protector and emotional reference point. Not only for El, but for Will too.

Mike’s character says, not do. He is highly reactive, doesn’t change the world; he tries to maintain relationships and stabilize emotions. In summary, Mike rarely does something to show, he says, he promises and declares. Mike wants to be a protector to Eleven, he says it multiple times, but since Eleven has powers, he might not be necessary, and that breaks him.

However, when he can do this in season 4, when she cannot defend herself from Angela, he does nothing, he can’t react, or maybe, doesn’t want to.

When a couple is determined as the official, usually they move each other forward, both characters grow within the relationship and their motivations and troubles evolve accordingly. However, when looking at Mike, that doesn’t happen, Mike doesn’t have any major character evolution, differently than all the other main characters, which suggests that his drive to evolution is not in El, but something else.

His relationship with Eleven, therefore, is a self-validation tool, since he is in a relationship everything is fine, even so, he’s incapable of validating El’s feelings, since, for him, the status is enough and nothing else is needed.

With that said, let’s look through another lens and understand Mike’s relationship with Will. Here, Mike does the opposite: shows more than says. Which is interesting, is almost like that, with Will, he doesn’t need to reassure anything, just being is enough. Nonetheless, Mike and Will are almost always, if not always, framed into private and intimate moments, and mostly close physically, and consequently, emotionally.

Also, if not romantic, Mike isn’t as close physically to El than he is to Will, something that was really well observed by many members of the Byler community, and, the technical aspects of a text, in these cases, film, affect directly the understanding of the message. Therefore, not taking blocking into consideration when analyzing film is, honestly, superfluous. That said, Mike and Will’s relationship is more intimate, welcoming and, by consequence, less performative and dramatic as Mike and El’s relationship.

Mileven scenes, on the other hand, are fast-paced and, usually tense for reasons outside their relationship. Scenes like Byler only happen to Mileven when there are tensions in their relationship, so, it’s almost obvious to infer that when it’s a love scene, the focus isn’t their relationship, while, when it’s a fight scene, the focus shifts to them.

When it comes to protection, he’s much the same with both, however, he is more complex when it comes to Will, usually his dialogue and Finn’s acting is more complex in Byler scene than in Mileven scenes, which suggest more importance in those scenes. Framing Will and Mike’s relationship so ambiguous and complex is, for semiotics, what makes a relationship authentic, which never happens with Mileven.

Narrative Level

When it comes to the narrative level, both to Will and El, Mike isn’t capable of fulfilling the proper narrative function he’s assigned to, however, the ways he fails is different in both.

With El, Mike is the boyfriend, he has the function of supporting her romantically, so she can overcome the evil with love. Taking season 4 then, overcoming Vecna with his confession. However, Mikes doesn’t know how to help El, cannot say “I love you” when he needs to, he claims to love her, but never actively does anything to prove it and knows that he should be there for El, but rarely is.

He is therefore a failing narrative subject, someone whose role is clear, but who does not fully realize it in action. He’s given a romantic arc, but does not embody the transformation that should come with it. Mike is supposed to be a helper, an object of desire, however becomes an obstacle, a false helper (he lies, creates confusion, etc.). In summary, Mike’s narrative arc feels incomplete and, mostly, forced, artificial, there’s no emotional development or transformation.

With Will, Mike acts like the friend, but also as the unresolved desire. Here, Mike doesn’t have a clear function, but his arc is haunted by possibility. He is unaware of Will’s feelings, but knows how to support him and shows it more than just saying he does. That creates, “semiotically”, a more authentic subject.

Mike is a subject with a possibility of transformation, where he might change his relationship towards Will. Their relationship is structured as a coming-of-age arc or an identity arc that is yet to be resolved. 

In summary, at the narrative level, Mike is more of a genre placeholder in the El arc, he represents what a boyfriend “should be,” but without the corresponding personal transformation that legitimizes the role.

With Will, he becomes a subject in crisis, caught between a role he’s performing and a self he hasn’t yet discovered. It’s less dramatic narratively, but more authentic semantically.

Deep Semantic Oppositions

When looking at Mike’s semantic opposition, it’s correct to say it is Authenticity x Performance. That comes with the idea that, with El, Mike is over performative, he tries to prove every single time that he’s in love with El, while, with Will, he lets his actions shows, he just feels, creating a more authentic experience.

Also, that might encapsulate Mike’s identity crises, that’s implied in all the levels of analysis. His actions towards El feel imposed, proved by the fact that, if it wasn’t for Will almost begging for Mike to do something at the end of season 4, he wouldn’t have done. While with will he’s more emotionally authentic. However, it lacks language or social permission to express it directly.

This tension aligns deeply with semiotic theories of subjectivity, the subject is not fixed, but constructed through contradictory roles and expectations. Mike’s conflict between performance and authenticity is exactly that. The ambiguity created by this opposition is not resolved by the narrative, and that’s what makes it rich for analysis. Unlike characters with a clear arc (e.g., El’s growth from object to subject), Mike’s arc remains unfinished, precisely because he’s stuck in the performance of a role that doesn’t fully fit.

This produces tension for the viewer, and is why so many fans feel there’s “something off” about Mike’s role, it’s not that the writing is bad, but that the character is written to be incomplete.

Conclusion

In conclusion, it's clear that Mileven is not a fitting resolution for either Mike or Eleven's character arcs. For Eleven, Mileven reinforces her position as a narrative object, falling into a misogynistic trope where female characters are portrayed as incomplete or lacking without the presence of a man or male figure.

For Mike, Mileven reduces him to a passive character whose actions have little to no impact on the overarching narrative, as he relies entirely on others — especially Eleven — to define his identity.

While Mileven might fulfill the expectation of a typical romantic relationship, it doesn't serve the characters in the way a more nuanced, authentic partnership would. Mike’s emotional immaturity and lack of self-awareness, paired with Eleven’s ongoing struggle to reclaim her agency, make their relationship more of a hindrance than a fulfilling conclusion to their arcs. Their narrative roles are more about performing a "boyfriend-girlfriend" dynamic than authentically exploring what it means to be in a healthy, balanced relationship.

In contrast, Byler offers a more organic narrative, allowing Mike's character arc to come full circle and providing the space for his actions to truly resonate within the story. It creates a more organic narrative, where Mike can act like himself and act beyond this performative personality he has to Eleven. The subtleties in their interactions, framed by quiet, intimate moments, provide a sense of real connection that doesn’t rely on external pressures or forced conventions. Mike and Will’s bond has the capacity for transformation, both on a personal and emotional level, which is something that Mileven ultimately lacks.

Ultimately, while Mileven may serve as a convenient narrative device, Byler provides a more satisfying and realistic resolution for both characters. It’s not just about romance, it’s about character growth, emotional authenticity, and a relationship that drives the characters forward, rather than keeping them stagnant. Given that the creators have emphasized that Stranger Things is about the characters, not just the paranormal backdrop, Mileven undermines the very essence of the show.

Final Note: I'm NOT a semiotics specialist, therefore, it might have some conceptual mistakes here or there, however, the overall message is clear: Byler endgame :)

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Hiii! I'm looking for good fics with Dust x Swap! I like angst and smut, if possible with a good ending!

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Dustberry Fanfic by BerryBee132 (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Lust invites his lover Horror and the rest of the Nightmare Gang to visit his AU to meet someone, they're all shocked when they see a familiar face but with an entirely different personality

Blue's Café by LaeCanDraw (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Even if Blueberry doesn't go to college and spends his days in his apartment streaming gameplays, he still has a place where he and students can go hang out and relax. The place may be small, but it's cozy and the atmosphere is strangely welcoming to those who enter. What simply started as a backup way to get income for a living is now a place where many interesting things can and will happen, each of them influencing the café regulars' lives in one way or another. COFFEE HOUSE AND COLLEGE AU

The Shape of You by CelestalStars (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Winter King!Nightmare steals Dust away for his own. Blue refuses to leave his friend behind. Somewhat foolishly, he makes a wager: earn the favour of each Court, return with a token from each to prove it before the time runs out, and he'll be permitted to take Dust home. Fail, and be lost to the Fae Realm forever. He's already attracting the attention of Spring Ruler!Ink, Summer King!Dream and Autumn Ruler!Error as he journeys through the Fae Realm... all who which seek to take him for their own gain. But Blue plans to bring his friend home, whatever the cost. (UTMV FAE AU)

A Study in Magenta by oleander_tea (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Blue always dreamed of being a private detective, but due to some life challenges had to settle for working in police. During one of his cases he meets a weird skeleton, who turns out to be a great helper during investigations. Will they be able to solve the biggest mystery? Join Blue and Dust in their adventures and see!

Life finds a way [Dust Centered] by CoralOnTheSea (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Dust has always had only one goal, player this player that. What happens when he meet another skeleton ? Not much, at first. Eventually.. — Dust learns takes care of a baby through trial and errors.

[cozymoko]

https://www.tumblr.com/cozymoko/714371122833063936/welcome-back-i-was-wonder-if-you-could-do-a?source=share

Can you write a part 2 about these headcannons but with the mukami brothers

STEALING YUI'S SIBLING — PLATONIC YANDERE MUKAMIS

Pairing: Platonic! Mukami brothers (separate) x gn! reader

Sakamaki Version: click here!

Format: Headcanons

WARNING(S): Yandere themes, unhealthy, not proofread

Want more Diabolik lovers? → Masterlist! ★

RUKI MUKAMI

Initially, Ruki only allowed you to accompany your sister since she's “Eve”. And clearly, there was no way she'd go without you. Therefore, he provides you every basic necessity a human could possibly need, but that's it. The only time Ruki had a full conversation with you was when you needed help with your homework. To which, he reluctantly decided to help you with.

Sooner than later, you found yourself traveling to Ruki's study weekly in hopes for some afternoon tutoring. Before you knew it, those weekly sessions turned into daily ones; I suppose you can say he's gotten quite attached to your presence. Now, it's become a requirement. Studying for at least three hours a night, by his side, in his library. And dear, there's no reason to ask anyone else for help; you don't need it! After all, Ruki is not one to stray away from a routine.

“You didn't attend yesterday's session, is something the matter? Are you unwell? Or perhaps it's Yui's doing? Even so, try to attend every day or there will be consequences.”

KOU MUKAMI

Kou is an interesting case. Sure, he's nice to you upon your arrival just as he was with a certain blonde. However, the idol took no real interest in anything involving you. That was until Ruki put him on “Child Duty” for the evening. I mean, come on, you're a teen not a damn fetus! As you'd imagine, he was anything but pleased. Surprisingly enough, Kou started a conversation with you, which he found himself thoroughly enjoying. But something tells me those blue eyes have been peering right through you!

There you were seared across from him, your hands neatly tucked in your lap as Kou gently applied the thin mask to your face. It smelt of petals and peaches. Refreshing, and yet you couldn't stop the shiver that wrecked your being upon its contact. Yes, refreshing but also cold. A low snort slipped past his lips as he reached to pinch your cheeks between his thumb and index finger. Perhaps even Kou can find some comfort within your genuine emotions (something you and Yui share).

“Wah~! Filming took absolutely forever today. I even had to skip put on picking you up today, y'know? Hehe, but fret no longer, the amazing Kou Mukami is here to cure your boredom!”

YUMA MUKAMI

I suppose you aren't entirely useless. Having an extra set of hands around the garden proved to be quite the blessing, so why not keep you around? Hah, you may as well call it an excuse! Yuma had always been amused by your energy, — your eagerness to learn about the things he often busied himself with. Soon enough he itching to spend time with his favorite little listener (Yui's sibling).

You could say he's quite protective over you. After all, how can a “defenseless sow” like your sister possibly look after you? The girl can barely pick a tomato properly! Yuma is much more capable of providing and protecting you...or so he says. So whether you like it or not, you're now his little helper. And trust me dear, there isn't anything you or Yui can do about it.

“Tch, toughen up kid, a little dirt won't hurt ya' too much. How are you ever gonna do somethin' on your own? Hah, but don't let others go pushin' you around like this. Only I'm allowed to do that, got it?

AZUSA MUKAMI

Nine times out of ten, you're the one who went out of your way to speak to him. Your curiosity got the best of you, leading you to a very extensive conversation with the youngest brother. And he was arguably not as boring as he appeared. A bit strange, that he was, but you saw no harm behind his abnormal kinks. Seeing how he's the most “normal” one in the house, surely you'll become attached to him in no time.

Azusa is pretty damn clingy once he gets comfortable. Even then, you find it hard to reject him — he looks so sad! You'll find yourself being dragged off to some random place in the manor as soon as you enter the doors! Yui hardly has a chance to speak with you, which is exactly where at he wants. Though she might be Eve, becoming Adam is the last thing on his mind when you're around.

“You don't look too well...did you...have a bad day today? Hmm...what happened? You can hit me if it makes you feel better. I just...I just want to see you smile.”

[covid-safer-hotties]

Alopecia on the Rise After COVID, Study Suggests - Published Jan 10, 2024

by Shannon Firth

The incidence of alopecia areata significantly increased after COVID-19, a nationwide study involving more than half a million South Koreans found.

In a propensity score-matched analysis, incidence of the autoimmune form of hair loss was 82% higher for individuals with versus those without a prior COVID infection (43.19 vs 23.61 per 10,000 person-years; adjusted HR 1.82, 95% CI 1.60-2.07), reported Jin Park, MD, PhD, of Jeonbuk National University Medical School in Jeonju, South Korea, and colleagues.

Higher incidence was seen in all groups older than 20 years, with a greater risk observed both in women and men, they detailed in a JAMA Dermatologyopens in a new tab or window research letter.

The study also revealed an increased incidence of telogen effluvium -- rapid hair loss triggered by stress or other changes to the body -- among the cohort with COVID compared with the control group (adjusted HR 6.40, 95% CI 4.92-8.33).

"These findings support the possible role of COVID-19 in AA [alopecia areata] occurrence and exacerbation, although other environmental factors, such as psychological stress, may have also contributed to AA development during the pandemic," Park and co-authors added. "Plausible mechanismsopens in a new tab or window of AA following COVID-19 include antigenic molecular mimicry between SARS-CoV-2 and hair follicle autoantigens, cytokine shifting, and bystander activation."

Alopecia areata "occurs in susceptible individuals by environmental triggers, such as viruses, vaccinations, and psychological stress," the researchers said, adding that while reports ofopens in a new tab or window documented new onset, exacerbation, and recurrence of alopecia areata after COVID have been increasing, evidence linking alopecia areata to COVID has been limited. Danilo Del Campo, MD, a dermatologist with the Chicago Skin Clinic, described the study findings as "more confirmatory" than "surprising."

"Anything that can stimulate the immune system can trigger other problems, and alopecia areata, in particular, stems from a strong immune reaction," he told MedPage Today.

He likened the immune system to a web of "secret spies," constantly "on the hunt" for infiltrators. Sometimes it simply has the wrong target -- in this case hair stem cells instead of virus cells -- which is known as antigenic molecular mimicry.

Another explanation is that COVID infection leads to a "huge influx of cytokines," which has other downstream effects. Alternatively, it may be that hair stem cells are too close to infected cells or to "helper cells" trying to clean the infected cells, and are inadvertently targeted, known as bystander activation.

Shoshana Marmon, MD, PhD, of New York Medical College in New York City, told MedPage Today in an email that while the "plausible mechanisms" described by Park and his team are "theoretically sound, their specific roles in the context of COVID-19 and alopecia areata require further empirical validation through research and clinical studies."

For their propensity score-matched study, the authors used data from the Korea Disease Control and Prevention Agency-COVID-19-National Health Insurance Service cohort from October 2020 through September 2021. The cohort included 259,369 patients with COVID and 259,369 patients without COVID. Patients were matched along demographic characteristics and comorbidities.

Looking at clinical subtypes, incidence of patchy alopecia areata or alopecia totalis and alopecia universalis (AT/AU) were higher in patients with COVID, at 35.94 and 7.24 per 10,000 person-years, respectively, as compared with 19.43 and 4.18 per 10,000 person-years among controls. Meanwhile, the prevalence of alopecia areata and AT/AU was 70.53 and 12.39 per 10,000 person-years in the COVID group versus 52.37 and 8.97 per 10,000 person-years in controls.

"During the study period, the age- and sex-adjusted incidence and prevalence of AA [alopecia areata] and AT/AU in COVID-19-infected patients were considerably higher than in the prepandemic period in Korea, in which incidence and prevalence of AA and AT/AU remained constant from 2006 to 2015," they wrote.

Park and team acknowledged "potential detection or misclassification bias" in their study, despite using validated sensitivity analyses with several matching variables. They said that "further studies are necessary to validate the association between different populations and elucidate the causal relationship between the two conditions."

Study Link: jamanetwork.com/journals/jamadermatology/article-abstract/2813824 (PAYWALLED)

[harrybrookk]

Students face numerous challenges in completing homework, which requires analysis, writing, quotation, and stream. As a result, they seek online help to improve their work. This article provides tips on how these specialists can impact their work.

For more info, visit at-

[greenplumbboblover]

Not-a-tutorial - Lighting (Basics - indoors)

Previous Part(s):

Not-a-tutorial - Lighting (Basics & Outdoor)

How to use lighting for Nighttime (Indoors):

Here we have a scene where Lolita is studying.

Not too bad of a scene eh?

Now, with indoor scenes, the principle is basically the same, except that you can be even more clever about the lights!

Now, you have noticed maybe that there is a light next to her (in fact, 2, but let's focus on the one on the right for now).

While I like to keep those lights off, and the rest of the lot's lights turned on, we can still mimic it in our lighting!

Setup:

Here, I've put the helper lights setup. All the lot's lights are on, except for the ones on the desk (so it doesn't do weird things to our setup).

Because I like the idea that the desk light would be a warm orange-yellow light, I've set the colour of the front-light to yellow.

Setup:

Backlight = Blue (because it's night!)

Sub-light = Magenta (to make things a little more interesting)

Front-light = Yellow.

Obviously, if you rather want it to feel more "dark", you can always make the backlight and sub-light both blue ;) This would look something like this:

What about scenes with lots that have no lights?

I think we all know how terrible a truly dark sim house can look like, especially in storytelling (it's not the strongest part of the game's lighting engine)...

Now, let's pretend the power has shut off, no lights are working and your sim is, in this case reading in the dark (lol). How would we set that up?

The principle of it is almost the same as our Outdoor Night part of the tiptorial.

Now, we now know how important the colour blue is for our night pictures. However, in these instances I like to not pick and white colours for the front-light. Instead, we're going for a custom colour, Light blue!

Setup:

Backlight = Blue

Sub light = Blue

Front Light = Light Blue (RGB: 59, 138, 218)

Though, if You feel this isn't really working, you can always move the lights away from your sim, for a less intense effect! See:

Here I did add the front light much closer to the sim, and the Sublight more away from the sim, to soften the blue effect. But this is obviously just a choice you can make! 😉

How to use lighting for Daylight (Indoors):

Just like I mentioned in the Night Time section, this is almost the same principle as the daylight part in the outdoor section.

Here we have Lolita in a unlit, daylight room. Not too bad! But we can add a bit more spice to this with the methods we now know :)

Turning on the light next to her helps... but this is obviously without the helper lights. We can make this even more interesting!

Here, I added a red background, orange sub light and a white front light :)

However if the red is simply too much, you can always dim it. It will look something like this:

And if that's not enough... We can always turn on all the lights on the lot to help our scene out!

That way the desks feel a bit more intriguing, but we do lose a bit of the orange in Lolita's hair. (Though just a tad!).

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Dignity

[ dark academia • Aemond x rich • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, class inequalities ]

[ description: Aemond worked his whole life to get into the best university in the country. The class inequality he sees there strikes him, and the target of his hatred is a female classmate from his year, a rich girl from a wealthy family. However, it turns out that what was obvious to him is not so simple and he has to face the consequences of his own decisions. A lot of angst, bitchy, violent, mean Aemond. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He very quickly came to terms with the fact that life is not fair. He understood this when he watched his mother, worried, choosing between buying him a new sweatshirt and buying him a new textbook for school, between paying the heating bills and a new bed so they wouldn't all have to fit into one with an old, yellow mattress.

They didn't starve, they didn't walk around dirty, their mother made sure they looked like decent people, however, they were always lacking things, always had too little money for something.

Although his mother worked two jobs at school, she didn't earn as much as his friend's mother, who bought her T-shirts with Disney cartoon characters, had a whole pencil case of glitter pens and expensive chocolate croissants for her second breakfast.

He envied her and one day, when she wasn't looking, he stole her pensieve and threw it in the rubbish. She cried all day because of this, the pencil case was eventually found, however, she didn't want it anymore because it stank.

The next day she came to school with a new pencil case, even prettier.

From then on he decided that whatever he did would not change anything, so he chose not to worry about it and to stay away from such people. He was repulsed by their feeling that they could look down on him, that they were proud to have new, fashionable things, as if there was any merit in it.

They just got it and he didn't.

Something that could not be bought was intelligence, and he did not lack it.

Therefore, he decided to concentrate on his studies, spending whole days in the school library, borrowing thick, worn-out books to take home, having no money to buy new ones in the bookshop. He set himself the goal of getting into a degree in classical literature at the best, most prestigious university in the country by virtue of his academic results, to win a scholarship.

His mother was horrified by the idea, having no clue how she would help him pay for his stay in the capital, where everything was several times more expensive than in their city.

Not wanting to burden her more, to her despair, after high school classes he would go to work for a friend who ran a car repair shop, working as his helper, every paycheck saved up for his plan.

He felt like he was obsessed with it and did not accept the possibility that he might not succeed.

When applying for a scholarship, in addition to a written essay of at least a hundred pages about his favourite author, he had to appear in person for an interview.

Specially for this occasion, he bought himself an expensive shirt, smart trousers and a suit jacket for the first time and, dressed like this, went there with a beating heart.

The professors sitting in front of him seemed tired and weary of their work, sipping tea from beautiful, surely very expensive, porcelain cups. He looked at them trying to hide the disgust on his face, listening to their questions, which turned out to be trivially easy.

He saw how he was arousing their interest more and more with every minute with his attitude, they started asking him about his life, where he came from.

He sold them the heart-wrenching story of his childhood, the tale of his accident involving his nephew, through which he lost his eye, and then his slow road to the top, presenting himself as a young boy with dreams who had worked so hard for his success.

To his surprise it worked, and after a week he received a letter confirming that he had been awarded a scholarship and a place on his dream faculty.

He cried like a baby reading it several times, glad that no one was home at the time, feeling that he had finally managed to win something for himself in his life.

His mother burst with pride when she found out, while at the same time fearing how he would cope in this group, full of aristocrats and children of rich parents who could afford to simply buy them a place there.

He figured he would destroy them all, show them for who they really were.

He felt within himself some great need for revenge and atonement, although he did not know quite how he was supposed to express it.

He spotted his perfect target at the first meeting of his year with the professor who was to be their mentor during their stay at the University.

Despite the fact that they were all sitting in the same elegant uniforms with the intricate gold crest of their university, he saw that she was holding the latest model of phone in her hands, a beautiful gold ring with a sapphire on her middle finger and an old, expensive watch, surely inherited from some very wealthy and famous great-grandfather.

It came to his ears very quickly that her surname, Howard, was due to her grandfather on her father's side, the baron who had been given that title, which her family had boasted of ever since, living in their mansion in a village near the capital.

He looked at her and thought only of the fact that she was a fucking nepotistic, spoilt brat who never had to earn anything, who was taking the place of someone who really deserved it.

He very quickly caught a good rapport with a boy similar to himself, also from a small town from a working-class family, Criston. Like him, he owed his place to his education and scholarship, although he was not as harsh as he was in his assessment of their new friend.

"Oh, come on. Just concentrate on being content that you're here." He said one evening as they prepared for their first classes together. They were sitting in large, comfortable armchairs by the fireplace in the university's huge library filled with old, oak bookcases reaching the ceiling, filled to the brim with thick, dusty tomes.

He instantly fell in love with the place and only dreamed of spending whole evenings there, imagining how other students, writers and poets sat in his place. He hummed at his words, turning the page of the book he had just read, a history of ancient Greek literature.

"I'm concentrating on this, but when I look at her, I just feel sick. She's only here so her daddy baron can show off his daughter at the University. I have no respect for her and don't think she deserves any. The fact that she is here is a joke and one big misunderstanding." He muttered lowly, Criston sighed heavily, shaking his head, not having the strength to argue with him.

They both flinched when they heard someone's quiet footsteps, the figure of Howard appeared from among the bookcases with several books clutched to her chest and headed immediately for her entrance, her face pale, her lips clenched.

He swallowed loudly, feeling the cold sweat on his back at the thought that she had heard it all, and although he thought it was good for her that he had told the truth out loud, a sense of shame overcame him anyway.

Criston threw him a confused, horrified look and he lowered his gaze and grunted, letting out a loud breath, returning to his reading, recognising that the words of someone like him were meaningless to her anyway.

The next day was their first class with Professor Morris, in which they were to study Greek literature of the Classical, Hellenistic and Empire eras. Their professor, a short, smiling old man with big glasses, spoke with enthusiasm and energy surprisingly high for his age, introducing them to the subject and telling them what they would be working on first.

He said they would start with something simple, a collection of myths that, although passed down through generations and written down very late in history, were a source of inspiration that still stirred the minds of young artists and writers today.

He began with a question about who the Greek gods were in Greek mythology, Howard's hand shot up before he could think of anything.

"As far as the Olympian gods are concerned, they were imagined as humans, or rather the inhabitants of Hellada with the difference that they were immortal by drinking ambrosia and had various powers." She said quickly, their professor nodding at her words.

"That is true, Miss Howard. Why were they imagined as human beings and not, like the Christian God, as a superior, infallible entity?"

Howard's hand shot up again and he pressed his lips together, looking at her impatiently.

Stupid bitch.

"Because they were supposed to be the answer to what was happening around the living population, they were not the determinant of moral values, like the Christian God, but more like guardians whose care had to be constantly sought.

They loved and hated like ordinary people, they were eager for revenge, murder and rape, so they did not represent a pattern of behaviour, but rather depicted the unpredictability of nature and events in human life." She said without stammering, and he let out a loud breath, impatient.

She was doing this on purpose.

She wanted to prove him wrong.

He spent whole evenings reading and preparing for class and in the days that followed, he began to overtake her, watching with satisfaction as she turned to him over her shoulder with furrowed brows, impatient when it was him that their professor allowed to speak and not her.

They were at war.

He saw that she had her two friends with whom she went everywhere, naive girls from good homes who clung to her to wallow in her luxuries.

He felt like laughing at this sight.

He had the feeling that it was getting worse by the week, they were throwing hateful glances at each other in the corridors and shunning each other in the common rooms and the library, not wanting to bump into each other by accident.

He knew she was doing this to prove him wrong, to make herself feel the best again rather than because she was interested in literature.

After the first exams they both had very similar scores, but he felt a sense of pride when he saw on the posted list that he had scored one point more than her, a grimace of satisfaction showed on his face as he glanced in her direction indulgently.

Even though she had second place right after him she turned and walked towards the women's dormitory, clearly frustrated, making him feel better for the day.

And that's when he appeared.

Ronald Collins, a blushing man with slight curves, looking as if he was living in some sort of dreamy state had been introduced to them in class with their tutor and it appeared that he would be joining them mid-year.

No one understood how he managed to achieve this, he didn't look like a wealthy man, he smiled at everyone as if he were a priest at a sermon, with tenderness and care, as if he lived in a completely different reality. He and Criston would sometimes see him sitting on the cloisters with a notebook in his hand, gesticulating and talking to himself as if he were some inspired 19th century poet.

"What the fuck is his problem?" He muttered to Cole, recognising that this man was out of his mind.

In their first class together, however, he proved to them that he was something far more dangerous.

"Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. Trash and kitsch, or sincere, sudden, fiery true love? There are different thoughts about this world-famous work today. What is your opinion?"

He and Howard automatically raised their hand, but Collins preceded them. The professor allowed him to speak first and, to everyone's surprise, he stood up, looking around the room.

"Pontius Pilate asked Christ - what is truth? But I ask you - what is love?! Is there only one kind of love? When we truly love, can we be so desperate as to reach for the finality, for death itself?" He asked, stretching his hand out in front of him, sweeping it in a semi-circle as if he was showing something, a few people couldn't stand it and laughed under their breath, Howard turned to him over her shoulder, looking at him with big eyes in disbelief, and he looked at her feeling that he looked exactly like her.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He bullshitted his way through the next five minutes until their professor decided he'd had enough.

However, what horrified him the most was the results of his first exam, which he saw on a list posted for all students outside the room.

100/100 points Mr Collins 94/100 points Mr Targaryen 94/100 points Miss Howard

What?

"What?!" He heard a familiar voice beside him, Howard stepped closer to the glass as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

She threw him a quick, helpless look as if she wanted him to tell her what had just happened here, but he himself had no idea how that was possible.

How could this fucking moron get such a good score?

"Ah, my sweet rivals!" They heard a voice behind them and turned around, Collins was looking contentedly at his score from over their shoulders, blushing, smiling and dreamy as usual, he could see from so close up that despite his young age he was slowly starting to go bald.

"Miss Howard and Mr Targaryen, the age-old battle between the aristocracy and the working class. So dramatic, solemn, full of contradictions. Love - hate - or perhaps cold calculation? Like Athena and Arachne, like Aphrodite and Persephone, like Achilles and Hector!" He said grabbing Howard's arm and she shook her head, completely surprised, not believing that he dared to say such things out loud.

"− Achilles and Hector didn't −" She began, but he interrupted her, looking up, as if suddenly dazzled.

"− no − Romeo and Juliet − separated lovers − they don't even know yet that tragedy awaits them, that they will not be given the chance to be reunited − but nevertheless this feeling, this will to fight will always prevail." He said worriedly and shook her, as if he wanted to make her realise how serious his prophetic words were, and then he left, wishing them a good day.

They stood horrified, he saw her look at her arms, as if she might have been contaminated by him just a moment ago.

"− oh God −" She muttered, lowering her hands without strength. "− he's an idiot −"

Their war was put on hold as they were forced to turn their gazes to a new enemy, more dangerous and more unpredictable, turning their joint lectures into a nightmare, for some reason having perfect scores on all their exams.

How was it possible that he was always a few points short and he passed everything with the highest score?

He decided to hide in the library as usual, tired and frustrated, and clenched his eyes when he saw that in his armchair, hidden between a few bookcases so that he couldn't be seen from a distance, sat Howard, reading a book even though it was his favourite place and she knew it perfectly well.

"Get the fuck out." He said to her straight out, towering over her with an angry look. She furrowed her brow and pressed her lips together.

"No. That moron is still after me, and he won't find me here. I was here first." She said angrily and turned the page with a quick, theatrical gesture.

He leaned over her resting his hands on either side of her body on the armrests of her armchair, looking at her face from so close that the tips of their noses were almost touching.

"Get. The fuck. Out." He hissed low.

"Fuck. No." She hissed parroting his tone, he grabbed her hard by her arm, trying to pull her out of there, but she immediately lifted her leg and kicked him in the stomach.

He bent down and growled, grabbing her ankle.

"You little spoiled bitch." He snorted, pulling her so that she just fell off the armchair, ignoring the fact that it made her skirt roll up and he could almost see her panties. "You think if your daddy pays for your studies, you're allowed everything?"

In response, he was hit on the head with the book she had just been reading, grabbed his forehead and shouted in pain, closing his eyes.

"Fuck off! I'm studying here as hard as you are!" She snarled furiously, wanting to throw the other book at him, but he grabbed her arms and blocked her movements. They were both panting loudly fighting each other, she tried to hit him with her knee, but he pinned her down with his body.

"Yeah? Oh what a poor girl. She studies as hard as I do. She never had to earn anything, she didn't have to work for long fucking hours after school, studying late to earn a living here, she didn't have to write a 100-page essay to get here, beg the university authorities to give her a scholarship." He hissed out looking at her with hatred, not letting her get away, feeling that he was just pouring out everything he had felt over the years, all the loathing he had for her and people like her.

She stopped fighting him and pressed her lips together, her eyebrows at the same time furrowed in a grimace of pain and sadness, her lower lip began to tremble at his words, her eyes turned red and glazed over from tears.

"Oh, are you going to cry? Are you going to fucking cry now? The poor rich little girl is going to cry because she heard a few words of truth?" He asked in a mocking, sweet voice as if he was speaking to a small child who still doesn't understand much and needs to be explained slowly.

"Fuck off." She exhaled with difficulty, already with less certainty, trying to push him away but to no avail, his hands clenched tighter on her shoulders, her body pressed against the armchair so that she was unable to make any movement, her cheeks red with exertion.

"You're not so snarky anymore? Well, please tell me, how did you earn your place here? Let me guess, you told your daddy - daddy, I would like to study here - will you pay my tuition fees? Hm? Is that how it was? I know, you worked so terribly hard for it." He sneered, arching his eyebrows in a gesture as if he really felt sorry for her, and she burst out crying, looking up at him from below, breathing hard.

"− I wanted to study here because I'm interested in literature, and my dad helped me − what the fuck is your problem? −" She mumbled out almost choking, and he clenched his jaw, his nostrils moving restlessly in rage.

"− my problem is that you've taken the place of someone who's worked all their life for it − some poor boy or girl who didn't have your father's money − the university authorities prefer your money to their knowledge −"

"− then why don't you go and yell at the rector for it? − won't you go to the dean and name some person to take my place, tell them that they are only after my money? − I'll tell you why − thanks to my father's money you can be here for free − thanks to my father's money you'll be able to do your PhD and do your research −" She laughed desperately through her tears, looking at him in disbelief, seeing him turn pale, his lower lip trembling in rage.

"− you didn't know? − you thought our country was paying for your place here, your uniform, your room? − no − but you're right about one thing − you've earned this place harder than I have −" She said emotionlessly, looking at him with a blank stare, and he felt unable to get a word out, his throat tightened, he felt like he was about to vomit, humiliation and rage spreading through his body.

"− you don't know anything about me − you've been insulting me ever since you got here, even though I'm the one you feel sorry for, you're the one carrying yourself like a king, looking down on everyone − and I thought that maybe things would get better, that maybe we'd even become friends − you're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants −" She hissed, pushing him away from her, he stepped back, turning his head away, not looking at her as she picked up her book from the floor and moved ahead, disappearing around the corner.

He slid his back down the bookcase and sat on the floor, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he was trembling all over.

You're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[shyve3]

Deacon Anaylsis

Once again, I'm joining the fandom in yet another post about character analysis! Idk how I feel about posting my fanart at the moment because it's all traditional art, but i'll get to posting that too...someday.

Please bear with me if you're a major Deacon simp like I am or just someone who likes reading character analyses, because it's so much longer than I expected. I have never written so much in my life, holy shit. (EDIT: I probably have. But this is 3000 words. so it's a lot!)

Also: everything I say in this post is just my interpretation of his character. I've littered a few headcanons here and there. And while some of this may sound harsh, I swear I'm not trying to demean him in any way. I love him because I relate to him, so half of this is me calling out my behavior as well, just indirectly :3

Let's start at the beginning.

We see Deacon as Chase's cousin, who's frankly an annoying, nerdy older brother figure in Chase's eyes. He's always *cough* studying *cough* and most definitely not reading hopeless-romantic-fairytale-books-where-there's-a-random-hero-saving-the-damsel-in-distress. I remember when I first saw him, I thought he was the most pathetic dude ever. In a good way of course. But, eventually my opinion of him built up to be a lot more complex.

We see a glimpse of his ACTUAL character in Chapter 10, when he first goes with Chase and Grandpa Ralph to meet Aunt Myra. His mom, Beth, is seen to be pretty strict towards Deacon. She immediately points out the fact that his shirt isn't tucked in and Deacon's dad immediately goes to ask Chase if he has a job before even saying HI! (Can we get a hi, hello, how are you doing???)

His parents are on the stricter side, and we can see how it affects him in many ways:

Deacon is always dressed in super "nerdy" clothes: button ups, slacks(?) if that's what you call them, plain sweaters. He doesn't really get to express himself to them, and his mom most probably still buys his clothes. (He's literally 20! A young adult!) Ouch.

He's scared to stand up to them for the right reasons. Even though his parents are kinda harsh on everyone Deacon doesn't really retaliate back. That type of strictness towards kids can make them a so-called loser who's extremely awkward and can't stand up for himself. It's evident with how Deacon reacts towards his parents, immediately getting shot down the second he tries to say anything.

Deacon working to be a doctor. Even though it's not what he wants, he goes along with their wishes. After all, people would kill to have as much money as his family. He is humble and grateful, which I think is so important in helper archetypes. He understands their reasoning, that they just want him to be successful, even if it goes against what he wants emotionally: freedom.

Even though Deacon HATES the fact that he's the helper, because it's what he's been doing his whole life, he is still on the journey to learn that being the helper isn't always the bad thing.

Helping others doesn't mean you can't be the hero: Deacon has this secret fantasy of being the hero and proving himself to people: it's why he always consumes media related to "saving" someone (like Ship of Sorrows or any other of his romance novels he reads.)

It kinda also ties into why he's such a hopeless romantic. While it seems funny how he's always dreaming of women and saving them and what-not, it reveals a big truth about his character:

He's pretty f'ing lonely. Most people who look for romantic partners in literally anyone (like Deacon idolizing every single GIRL he meets), are usually lonely. He just wants the comfort in knowing, "yay, I finally proved myself to someone!"

I truly believe that he's asexual or somewhere along the aro/ace spectrum for this reason. His "crushes" on women are truly because of his hero complex, idolizing saving them rather than real love. It's silly, but real. I think he's just experiencing a horrible case of limerence with any woman he meets. (That, and I NEVER see him crushing on real life women. We also don't get a chance to see him with women in real life, but ya know. Anyways, this is just a HC.)

When he first started going into books with Chase, he was extremely excited to be a part of something. His fantasy to prove himself the hero became true: for two seconds.

He feels like his role was a "lame sidekick." Bronze was kinda salty to Deacon's closed off attitude, leading to a little miscommunication between them. (As Punko confirmed, in Toffee Break he purposely sent Deacon into a story with an outfit that didn't include underwear. He must've been reallll salty!) Deacon constantly dodges his role, and he's not ready to be a helper, both in real life and in books.

Deacon's self-worth kinda gets worse when they first go into Toffee Break, getting into the way of his story-going adventures. I love how narratonin is such a journey that really relies on emotional intelligence. It's also the reason he struggles to make it through Toffee Break.

He hates when people point out how his help isn't enough and isn't working, even when it's the smallest indication or a tiny jab. Deacon and Chase start arguing about how Deacon's help wasn't "enough", and it digs at him worse than Chase expected. He's extremely sensitive.

"Toffee Break" stressed him out immensely because of the fact that he learned that he didn't actually know how to help out in the story. He struggled with the fact that this story was extremely counter-intuitive.

Usually, his help consisted of careful strategic planning, like what to say around his parents, making sure they are satisified with whatever he does or says, and also hiding the fact that he's not actually interested in the career path his parents chose for him...

Now, his help consists of adhering to the story and what the heroine does. He has to follow behind her (Chase, in this case), and whatever random path she goes down, something that he's never done.

Buddy makes a second dig at him after his squabble with Chase, saying "Guess no one needed your help", to which he says, "Yeah. Guess you're right." and leaves immediately after. While I love them as a duo, their indifference to each others' characters is what makes them so hard to get along with each other.

I talked about in my Buddy analysis how Buddy takes pride in his role as a villainess, something that probably took him months or even years of discipline. Even though he's closed-minded to "changing the story" like Deacon, what sets them apart is his passion for his archetype in stories. In the beginning, Deacon is inexperienced in embracing his role as a helper and it’s what holds him back. That combined with his lack of knowledge of deviating from the story (much like what Buddy suffered with) was double damage. It's one thing to not be able to deviate from the story, but you can make up for it with your passion to a role despite being "confined" to your role. That's something Deacon needs to learn to have.

After leaving the story, he confides in Bronze with how he's always had everything laid out for him by his parents (proving my point to what I said earlier: That type of parenting changes a kid forever. And he's stuck with a closed-off mindset.) After he comes back into the story, he's feeling a little better about his role, and he's able to realize that sometimes, the best thing to do in life is to wing it. After all, you don't get schooling on how to be the helper, sorry Deacon. While he felt like his life and attitude towards helping others was "laid out", he subconsciously learned how to help others in the way they wanted him to.

After this arc, Chase and Deacon bond a lot more over stories and how to go about hunting for narratonin. Deacon's helper role represents him a lot in real life, and he's the voice of reason to Chase's energetic and spontaneous personality. They balance each other out perfectly, spontaneity with reasoning. Basically, they're the perfect storybook duo with Deacon's book-smart and Chase's street-smarts blending together.

I'm pretty sure I saw this in another analysis, but I'm adding it as well because it's such a good point. (EDIT: I can't find who posted it. PLEASE comment so I can tag you...!)

Deacon plays an important role outside of stories as well. In Cinderella Boy, we get a lot of Chase's insights of his life and traits from, who else but DEACON! He's literally a storyteller.

In Dreams by Day, he tells Silver (and us) about Chase's projection habit, which is extremely hilarious. But it's also an indicator of his personality and his little quirks that "Deacon got used to."

He's also a BIG lore dropper for Chase's life. After all, how would we know about Chase's dad, his mom, his selflessness, his quirks and personality that make him a true heroine?

The two keys also play important roles to him outside of stories.

Bronze is essentially telling him all the time: "No Deacon. Being a helper doesn't mean you neglect your own needs to help others. It means putting yourself first and taking the time to reflect on what you really want and THEN throwing yourself at the oppurtunity to help others. And also, stop being a huge people pleaser. I'm salty enough to know that you're a helper because you feel the overwhelming urge to forget about your own needs because you've been taught to put others first." Also the way that Bronze jokes on Deacon's rigid and insecure perspective of things is also kinda funny. While Bronze is mainly joking, he's also saying: "Dude. Are you serious? You have a life and emotions too!"

Silver also helps him. While the heroine key wouldn't seem like the wise advisor, she's wise emotionally. She always looks on the bright side, and after Deacon tells her that "People fail all the time", she says that hoping and wishing sometimes is enough. Passion is enough for someone to succeed. She is optimistic and believes in everyone, much like Chase. these words make Deacon feel better about himself. Surrounded by Silver and Chase will do that to ya! Leave it to a key and your cousin who's also extremely right about believing in yourself to make your life a little brighter. I believe in ya, Deacon!

He goes through a little bit of a mishaps during the Sick Day arc, getting a little too carried away. Once again, he wants to be the hero, and what better way to do it in one of his storybooks? He's also kinda upset about the fact that he's "always working hard for someone else", basically stuck in a moment of self pity. And so, he thinks, extremely in-the-moment: "hey! I should be the hero right now!" and so he does what Chase does: deviates from the story.

Except, he doesn't make it work. With the helper, deviating from the story doesn't go the same way it does with the heroine. This isn't to say that Deacon shouldn't be deviating from the story: it's just more-so how he goes about it. With the helper key, deviating from the story is a lot more risky. You can deviate from the story, just make sure it works with the plot. (and no, don't try to change your role in the story when it’s not subconsciously happening…Sorry Deacon, it won't work.) With the heroine, she can deviate from the story because her role kinda depends on it. She GETS what she wants, because most fairytales and stories GIVE the heroine luck.

Deacon's hero complex got to him again. He followed his fantasies and it backfired, and it's why deviating from the story just in a frenzy of praying you can change your role doesn't work. (It's also extremely unexpected that Buddy has to be the hero of Sick Day, saving both Deacon and Chase. But that's a whole other spiel to go off of...Someone pick it up from here.)

Buddy starts to play a more important role in Deacon's life, something I'll continue to talk about later on in this anaylsis!

The most important lines are "Maybe for once, I wanted to be the hero!" and to which Buddy says, "A real hero takes on his role because he has to. Not because he wants to. There are times we must be the hero, and many times where we need to be a helper."

Basically, he's clowning on Deacon for glamorizing the role of a hero. The whole idea of the hero archetype of the media in general is fed into the magic-guy-saves-the-world, ignoring the fact that heroes do their role for a purpose, a REASON. Not to get a wish. Again, this is another thing he must come to understand. Deacon's a rational guy, but when it comes to proving himself to others, he's an idiot. Once again, his wretched hero complex!

Even after the entire Sick Day arc, he still wants to be put in the spotlight and looks for some way to prove that he's cooler or better in some way, which is kinda funny.

In All that Glitters, Deacon isn't too big of a focus but we can sorta see him piecing together the shift in Chase and Buddy's relationship.

Stargoth are getting closer, and he's kinda smart so he goes, "Wait a minute. Their relationship is mutual. But they're too dumb to realize it." and he senses that shift. With the advice he's been following all his life, which is to think "realistically", he tells Chase to be careful about telling and not telling Buddy things.

As much as they could just tell Buddy about Prunella, to make sure he doesn't get his feelings like he did when he found out about the helper key, Deacon realizes what's more important. He knows Ex-Libris would most probably punish Buddy for getting another key-holder for another key that went missing. Therefore, he encourages Chase not to tell him, but he feels extremely guilty for it.

Also another detail I didn't really talk and I just noticed as I went to read "All That Glitters" was how Deacon has an obsession with horses. Once again, he wants to "change" the horses with his heroic complex that he has despite having the helper key. (Funny, yet goes along with his character perfectly. He really is something.)

The Honor Among Thieves arc is another important aspect that also ties in with Stargoth and Deacon’s perspective of it. He SEES things. He sees stupidity and these dumb pining idiots fighting with each other. Being the voice of reason, he's absolutely fed up with their bickering and their antics at this point. It's also accidentally hypocritical of him:

He's always the guy to get carried away with fantasies of meeting fictional women who he proves himself to. Yet, when he sees Chase absolutely losing it at Buddy's *cough* *hotness* he is SO done. When it comes to Stargoth, Deacon's fitting into the role as a helper perfectly. C'mon! At least it's not a fictional character, DEACON! /j I don't blame him as a very sapphic Cinderella boy stan...

At the end of Honor Among Thieves, they manage to give the story its happy ending despite the crazy antics and curveballs thrown at them. Good job for Deacon being able to deviate from the story AND help Chase. It's a win-win!

He also essentially tells Chase at the end to not feel bad about the fact that they hid Prunella and Goldie from him, because they had reasons to. Even though they would hurt Buddy emotionally, they could physically keep him safe from what would happen if they DID tell Buddy. And of course, Chase goes to sniff the hoodie right after, saying "You ever feel really wrong even when you're doing the right thing?" *cough gay* *but also foreshadowing. Yikes, Deacon. You were right for directing Chase, but it backfired after he found out :(*

The Book of Deacon is the closest we get to seeing Deacon's perspective. And there's many things I have to say about that episode:

First, the dry texts he sends to his mom. He is so tired of being the helper, and while he's writing out the notecards for the stories? Ow, double damage. He's tired of being the helper once again, constantly shifting back and forth between feeling better about himself and his role as a helper, both in stories and in real life, to having it constantly shut down the next second. The texts with his mom confirm, once again, he feels pressured and forced to help other people. That definitely doesn't help him feel better about himself.

The fact that he TOOK the hero key to go into a book as a hero: he's trying so hard to change his path again, only to feel better about himself. His fantasies and desires to be a hero are what help him avoid the role of a helper...

It's also kinda insane as many people have noted that he immediately resorts to CRUSHING on silver in the book. Dude, that's a key! But it also plays into his stupidity and hopeless-romantic character. No, I'm not saying him NOT EVEN SNAPPING OUT OF IT AND ALMOST ASKING OUT A KEY was justified. Just that he is SO irrational when it comes to chasing after women (whether it be fictional or out of his league, like literally. Girl, that's a KEY!), completely forgetting about everything else. After all, it's why he's so unsuited to being a hero when he forces himself to be one.

He comes to the realization that he HATES being a hero. Now THIS is the first token of acceptance we see him getting towards the helper role. This is where he fully accepts his role. He doesn't really like having a set path for himself. While it's probably because of how he hates set paths, possibly hinting to him standing up for himself later on...

He decides to help Chase in Requiem of Blood and Moonlight (finally, and without any sorta self-doubt or worry.) First, he starts with taking him into the story, and a part of him is happy with seeing that Chase is happy with it as well. It's so adorable seeing Deacon actually accept his role, and it's so attractive I SWEAR! Like oh my gosh, he's finally loving himself more!

Buttt it kinda backfires when he disregards Deacon's info on the story and warnings altogether. His help and usual voice of reason is useless to Chase, who is a gay IDIOT (see, there's a pattern here: love fantasizing about relationships that you'll never have makes you stupid.) Now we're faced with the question: what is Deacon's role now?

And that's where Buddy steps in.

Deacon and Buddy bond with their mutual desire to end the story, and they do this by taking on other roles. Even though Buddy's the villainess, he won't hesitate to fit into other roles in the story, and ends up being kinda like the helper. "The keys can take advantage of certain...loopholes." Similarly, Deacon is kinda the hero of the story now, without it being forced. (See Deacon? You can't force yourself to be the hero! Now, you HAVE to be one :) )

Deacon unknowingly becomes the hero after fighting off the wolves when he's locked outside the castle in this arc.

He steps into the scene of Buddy and Chase trying to tackle down Lucifier in the book. It's a parallel to Honor Among Thieves where Deacon was the one helping.

This story is the first story where we see him bonding with Buddy and unknowingly being the Hero without boasting about it nor making a big deal out of it! I'm so impressed.

To sum it up, I think Deacon's a character with a big hero complex built on his insecurities and he's so keen on proving himself to others. His insecurities come from his parents and rigid mindset that you must be realistic even if it's not what you want. The fact that he's so insecure also makes him a hopeless romantic, searching for unattainable standards of romance. He has a hard time accepting the fact that he can help others while also making room for himself, but he's growing to stand up for himself, not just others. My guy is going places! He serves as a voice of reason to Chase, even though sometimes he has to be reasoned with...And his role in stories changes when he isn't busy wishing for it. And, he's extremely book smart, slowly building up street smarts with the help of Chase and Silver as well.

Anyway, that's all the anaylsis I have on him so far.

I can't wait to see what advice he'll have for Chase after Buddy found out about Prunella and the Hero Key.

I just know next arc is going to be ROUGH. Praying for everyone's mental stability! (Can't guarantee we'll get any though.)