#all of their friends have some sort of dark secrets or something but this lad doesn’t

[huffle-dork]

Swap Across the CrystalVerse Chapter 10: Shadow City

Read Swapboys | Crystal’s AUs

Read SITCV | SATCV Masterpost | AO3 Link

“—so it's not just ghosts," Jack says. He's spent the past few minutes explaining the state of this universe to Bro, about the vampires and werewolves and witches in the city. "But don't worry, it's usually pretty safe in Scuabyrg. There's this group called the Night Council—well, there's one in most major cities, but the point is they're basically the government for all these secret creatures. They make sure people don't get hurt. Everydays, as they call the normal humans. I dunno if you'd count as one in their eyes. I do, even though I have a 'special power' or whatever." 

The car is driving steadily down the near-empty city streets, keeping after one of the magic trails. Said trail is getting steadily more blue. 

Bro nods along and hums, “I dunno- my brother is always telling me my powers are like magic. So- don’t really know if I’d count as an everyday, I guess.”

Chase leans in from the backseat. "I'm pretty new to all this magic stuff, but personally, I think you're a special case. Witches here have, like... rules to follow to get and use magic, so you're not one of them. And you're clearly not a vampire or anything." 

"Hmm." Jack nods. "Yeah, Chase is right. You'd probably be something special. Your friends might be, too. Maybe. Do they use magic? I don't remember if you've told me." 

"Alt does!" Bro says with a smile, "He's all about magic. It's become like one of his favorite things- but I think he's pretty good at it. Jackie is human. Fucking great lad though- he's a parkourist! And like the best dad i know~ .... but that doesn't really have anything to do with being special magic." He laughs.

"Ah, parkour?! Hell yeah, fucking great." Jack grins. 

"I did parkour when I was in uni," Chase says. "I mean... sort of. We didn't really know any parkour moves, we really just jumped around. I'm honestly surprised I didn't die, looking back on it. I did fuck up my ribs, though." 

"Whoa, hey!" Jack raises his eyebrows. The magic trail they're following is joined by a second one. "Your trails are merging together, other Chase." 

"Does that mean that Alt and Jackie have met up?" Chase asks.

Bro leans up to look better and then grins, "Huh! I guess so! Well- that makes things way easier!"

“Do you think they found some of our friends, too?” Chase wonders. 

“Maybe,” Jack says. “I hope they weren’t too scared.”

"My friends? Nah- they're tough lads. ...well Jackie maybe but- I'm sure he's fine." Bro snickers. "I'm assuming your friends are also like- supernatural things too?" 

Jack grins. “If he’s as tough as our Jackie, you’re probably right.” Then he nods. “Yeah. Jackie’s a werewolf, Schneep and JJ are vampires, and Marvin is… well, sort of a creature. He’s a witch.” 

“He’s been helping with the whole… how did I die thing,” Chase says.

"Oh! Dude- that's wicked." Bro grins. "We don't have things like that at home! I mean, besides magic- I'm guessing witches are pretty similar to magicians-"

"Probably!" Jack agrees. "We have different types of witches here, depending on where they draw their power from. Plants or earth magic are probably the most common sources, but with practice, people can learn to draw power from anything. Death, breathing, the fucking... concept of chaos itself. And then there are spells and rituals to do their magic." 

"It's pretty interesting," Chase says. "But sometimes a bit hard to follow. I'm not good with all this magic stuff, I think." 

"Oh neither am I- Alt's the one that gets it the most. I'm just there to support him- even if I don't understand a lick of it sometimes." Bro laughs.

"I'm with you guys, too," Jack says. "All I know is magic is the sparkly stuff. Usually. Unless it's darkness magic." He chuckles. 

The car turns a street corner, and the headlights shine on an unusual sight. A large brown wolf is running down the street. 

"Whoa!" Jack slams on the brakes, causing him and Bro to lurch forward. Chase stays where he is. "Okay, there they are!" 

Behind the wolf are several other people. 

Bro catches himself on the dashboard and shakes out of his head. His eyes widen as he sees the wolf. "Oh- that's a biggg wolf!" 

Then, he sees the familiar spark of Alt's magic and he grins. "Hey!" He gets out of the car and then uses some of his super speed and flying to grab Alt and scoops him off the ground into a hug. "Alt!" 

Alt yelps and then squirms in the hug. "Chase! Jesus- why do you always tackle me??" 

"Cuz what if you were in danger and just really needed a hug?" Bro says defensively but with a teasing edge. "Can't a big bro be worried for his lil brotherrr~?" 

Alt rolls his eyes and pushes Bro's face away as he glitches out of his grip. 

The wolf skids to a halt, looking at Bro flying in comical shock. 

"Whoa!" Marvin jumps. "Wow. Jeez." He takes a moment to get his breath back. "Was not expecting... the flying." 

Alt, you didn't mention that, JJ says. 

"Or the speed," Schneep says. Unlike Marvin, he and JJ are not breathing heavily. 

Alt blinks, "I swore we said he was a superhero-" 

"Yeah but I only mentioned he could fly with Schneep and other me." Jackieboy pants, also out of breath. 

"I'm full of surprises!" Bro says cheerfully. "Hi everyone! I'm Chase- but you guys can call me Bro so other me doesn't get confused!" 

Jack opens the car door. "Hey guys." 

"Hello, Jack," Schneep says cheerfully. "I see you found someone!" 

"Yeah, he showed up in our house. He freaked Chase out, and then Chase freaked him out. Oh, Chase came with, by the way." 

And yet, Chase is not visible in the backseat. 

Bro laughs as Jack tells the others of their encounters, "Oh yeah he scared the beejesus out of me! But, he's pretty cool!" He then blinks and looks around, "Oh uh- where did he go??" 

"What is he like- invisible or something?" Jackieboy jokes. 

Jackie shifts back from wolf form slowly. He winces, pressing a hand to the worst of his burns. "I know you're kidding, but yeah, Chase can do that. He disappears. Actually, more accurate to say he appears, because invisible is the default state for--" 

"Ohhhh," Schneep says slowly. "Chase, you do not want to shock them, do you?" 

A voice comes from just outside the car. "Yeah, I think you guys should explain, first." 

"Right, yeah, we never mentioned that, did we?" Marvin says. "Uh... Chase is a ghost."

Alt and Jackie exchange looks and then look back at the others. 

"Like... because he...?" Alt asks quietly, afraid to say the whole sentence. 

"Y-Yes but- not in the way you two must be thinking. They're actually trying to find out why it happened cuz other me doesn't remember! But, he's really chill!" Bro explains with a shaky smile. 

"Oh... well-" Jackieboy says, "at least we know. It's okay, Chase, you don't need to hide."

"Are you sure?" Chase asks. "People get really freaked out." 

"Better to just rip the plaster off, I think," Jackie says, shrugging. 

"Real quick explanation," Jack says. "Ghosts still have the sign of their death on them, especially if they were killed. So you're going to see some blood. And sometimes parts of them don't appear, they just fade away." 

Come on, Chase, I'm sure it's fine, JJ says. 

"...okay." And then Chase appears, slowly fading in. He looks just like he did when Bro first saw him. 

"Oh, fucking hell!" Marvin jumps. "Eyes, Chase, the eyes!" 

"God damn it. Sorry." Chase blinks, and his eyes appear as well.

Alt and Jackie do jump a bit at seeing the eyes. But, they try their best to calm down. Though, they look at Chase's wound with trepidation. Not as much as Bro had when he first saw though. 

"T-Thanks for the warning guys," Jackie says. "Nice to meet you, other Chase." 

"Yeah- for sure," Alt says, looking a bit spooked still but trying to hide it. It's just- hard seeing the splitting image of your brother... dead.

Chase smiles shakily. "Nice to meet you, too. Weird to see a shorter version of Jackie." 

"...Am I that much shorter??" Jackieboy asks, looking at his other self. 

"Yeah, sorry." Jackie is about half a head taller than his counterpart. "Don't feel bad about it, you get a growth spurt when you turn into a werewolf, I'm pretty sure I was your height before that." 

"Fucking! Magic bullshit!" Jackieboy cries, throwing his hands up in the air. Bro and Alt laugh. 

Then Chase looks at Alt. "So... you're my brother in another universe? That probably explains your expression. Don't worry, I'm used to people freaking out." 

"You get used to it," Jack says, leaning back against the car seat. "I've seen ghosts all my life, they're freaky, but mostly harmless." 

"Gee, thanks," Chase says.

Alt flushes a bit and gives him a weak smile. "Uh... yeah sorry- just... hard to see. But, not your fault." 

"He's not freaky! He's cool!" Bro says, putting his hands on his hips.

Chase laughs, the sound strange and echoey. "Thanks, Bro. That does make me feel better." 

"So." Marvin folds his arms. "Now that we're all together, we have to find that Magnificent guy." 

"How bad is this guy, anyway?" Jack asks. 

"He almost burned down the Harvest Moon," Schneep states. 

"...he's pretty fucking bad," Alt mutters, "Now that he knows there's magic around... he's gonna be looking for a source of it."

Marvin bragged earlier that he's the most powerful witch in the city, JJ says, Marvin smiling behind him as he signs it. And that means Magnificent might go after him? 

"There are a lot of witches around, though, right?" Chase says. 

"I know there are quite a few in the hospital," Schneep says. "To help with magical injuries." 

"The most magic in the city would probably be at City Hall or the library," Jack says. "City Hall is where the Night Council meets, so there's sure to be a lot of witches there. And the library has a secret stock supply of magical texts."

"He'd go to a place with more magicians... he drains people of their magic to use for himself," Alt says darkly. "He doesn't care who he has to hurt to get it." 

"Maybe... he got pretty beat up by those wolves in the pub though," Jackie points out. 

"Oh really? Fuck yeah!" Bro grins.

"Hell yeah!" Jackie punches the air. "We're great, aren't we? That's my pack! Heartwoods 7 for the win!" 

Bro and Jackieboy laugh at Jackie's enthusiasm.

Schneep rolls his eyes and looks at the visitors from the other world. "Heartwoods is the name of an apartment complex. Floor 7 is all werewolves, it's one big pack that Jackie's a part of. He's really excited about it." 

"Of course I am, they're like, my best friends," Jackie says. 

"Should I be offended?" Jack mutters. 

"Besides you guys." 

"Aaaanyway," Marvin says. "I say we check out the library first. City Hall has witches, but it has wolves and vamps, too. The library is pretty much only witches. Or, I mean, the secret section is. Anyone can go to the library itself." 

Much easier to get into the library, too, JJ adds.

Alt nods to Marvin and JJ, "Yeah... that's a good place to start at least. ...I'll know when we find him."

"Alright... everyone who can't teleport, get in, then," Jack says, indicating the car. "We'll meet the rest of you there."

"Yay! No more running!" Jackieboy cheers, happily heading towards the car. 

Bro pouts, remembering he shouldn't be flying. "Okayyy back to the car-" 

Alt can't help but snicker- knowing Bro hated how slow cars were too. "Don't worry bro, I'm sure the time will just fly by~" 

"Yer so mean to me!"

"It's gonna be a tight fit," Jackie says. "That comes out to... other me, Schneep, other Chase, Chase, and me." 

"Well I'm not really there," Chase says, passing his hand through the car as an example. 

"Yeah, but you do make things cold where you float." 

"It is not the cold I mind, it is the static electricity," Schneep mutters. 

"Chase, if you're okay with it, I can just summon you to the location," Marvin offers. 

Chase shrugs. "Fine by me. I can explore the city some more." 

Great, that means there's just enough seats for the rest of you, then, JJ says. 

"I call front," Jackie says, climbing into the passenger seat before anyone can object. 

"We're keeping the window rolled up," Jack says jokingly.

Bro and Jackieboy laugh and get inside the car. But, Bro makes sure to knock Alt in the shoulder playfully and give him a soft smile. "Don't do anything reckless until we get there, alright?" 

Alt chuckles and nods, "I'll try my best. See you guys soon."

"Everyone buckle up," Jack says. Then he puts the car in gear and drives off. 

Marvin looks at Alt. "Let's go, then." He holds out his hand for the teleportation. 

I'll see you there, JJ says, and walks into a shadow and disappears. 

Alt nods and takes Marvin's hand, glitching them towards the library. 

---------- 

Magnificent appears on a city street with tall buildings all around. Offices, it looks like. Some of their windows are lit up in whites and yellows as the late shift works, but many are dark. Street lights shine circles of white light on the sidewalk and road.

Magnificent staggers and leans up against the closest surface he can, biting back curses and he grips at his bitten arm. Fucking mutt...! He needs a power source... fast. He's running dangerously low... and he's ravenous. His eyes search around the area, trying to find the biggest source of magic around.

There are pockets of magic all over the city, all varied in the way they feel. There are a couple distant sources of powerful magic, but the closest source nearby seems to be on the street corner. Coming from what looks like a small restaurant or convenience store.

Magnificent is past the point of thinking rationally right now- he's in pain and starving. He stumbles into the store.

At first glance, it looks like a normal corner store, with various items on sale and rows of aisles with snacks and small items for sale. But it's an illusion. Magnificent can see the wares ripple, their images briefly falling away to show more fantastical things beneath them. Strange plants and bottles of glowing liquids and lots of crystals. Behind the counter is an older woman with red hair, a few white strands mixed in. She's a witch, and the magic in her burns as fiery as her hair does. 

"Oh, uh, welcome!" she says. "Um... can I help you?"

Magnificent chuckles deliriously and bares his fangs at the woman. "Why... yes, my dear. You can." He then teleports behind her and tries to grab her from behind, aiming to drain as much magic from her as possible.

The older woman gasps. She reaches into her pocket for something and her skin suddenly gets really hot, to the point of burning Magnificent. But--he still drains her. And she soon slumps over the counter unconscious. 

Magnificent hisses at the burn but- no consequence. He has magic flowing through him again. But- its still not enough.

"Ella, was that someone?" A man with black hair and a beard comes from a door behind the counter. He's magic too, this one feeling cloudy and electric. He sees the sight and gasps, pulling a wooden wand off a display hanging on the wall.

Like a vicious animal Magnificent turns towards the man, grinning wide as the light catches his unnatural eyes. In a flash he teleports so he's in front of the man, lashing out to grab his face and drain him too.

The man cries out, trying to aim the wand at Magnificent. A bolt of lightning fires from the tip but misses Mag by a hair, and soon he slumps as well.

Magnificent lets the man drop to the floor and then throws his head back with laughter. He studies his veins as they glow with stolen power- and he starts to feel more full. He giggles and feels more like himself. There was always room for more but for now, he's satiated. He hums as he now takes in the tiny store, lookin over the trinkets- searching for anything else of use. 

"Damn. Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?" 

What the hell? The store had been empty before, but now, there's a man in the corner, lurking in the spot where a large shelf casts a shadow on the wall. He's dressed in all black, from the overlarge black leather jacket, to the black tank top with "Bite Me" written on it in red, to the black ripped skinny jeans, to the tall black boots whose soles lend him at least an inch of height. His hair is brown and messy, and his eyes are blue with a ring of green around the pupil. Silver rings cover his fingers, and his pale skin has a gray tint to it.

Magnificent freezes and then whips around, lighting his hands on fire as he growls towards the voice. He glares at the man, then stops, finding himself momentarily confused. "...Alt?" But he gets over his confusion quickly. His cub wouldn't dress like that. 

He stands up and regards the man coolly, but keeps magic at his fingertips. "...You look like someone I know, Who might you be?"

"I've gone by a lot of names," the man says, walking towards Magnificent. "These days I like Anti. Short and to the point. But now that you know me, I gotta know you. Who are you?" His eyes flick up and down, scanning Magnificent. "You look like a witch, even a witch I know, but there's no fucking way a witch can do that fucking shit." He gestures at the unconscious witches. 

Magnificent chuckles, "Of course you are." He shakes his head then holds himself taller, "I am Magnificent. I'm more than a mere witch. I'm a sorcerer from another universe."

Anti's eyebrows raise into the air. "Ohhhh. Okay, so you're either one of those crazy cult witches, or you're telling the truth and those crazy cult witches are right. But honestly, I'm gonna guess the second one. Cause again. What the fuck was that." He walks around Magnificent and starts checking out the unconscious witches.

Magnificent laughs, shaking his head. "Even simpleton mortals can guess true things, it seems." He glances at the bodies of the witches and grins wickedly. "I siphoned their power to use as my own. It's a crude method- I have a more elegant ritual back in my own world but... too little time to do that here." He grips at his injured arm again and growls, "Plus... the beasts made me waste power... I was too hungry. Fucking hate that feeling..."

Anti glances back at Magnificent, looking down at the injury on his arm. "Werewolves? Yeah, they fucking suck." He pointed at one of the shelves. "The bottles with green stuff inside are healing potions. You're lucky it's not a full moon, I doubt even sorcerers from other worlds are immune to lycanthropy."

Mag's eyes widen at this and he hurriedly teleports to the shelves and grabs the potions, downing them quickly.

They taste like lemonade with a weird plant-like taste mixed in. His arm starts to tingle around the injury, and his skin slowly starts knitting together. 

"Don't drink too many," Anti calls. "You'll get sick." He crouches down by the unconscious man, leaning in close to his neck. When he pulls away, he looks a little less pale than he did before, and there's a red substance on the inside of his lips that he licks off. He then stands up and watches Magnificent, curious.

Magnificent stops once he feels the wound close altogether and he flexes his arm to make sure its healed. He sighs in relief and then glances back at Anti. He tilts his head curiously, studying him back. "...You're a vampire." He then looks back down at Anti and snorts, "That would explain the fashion sense."

"Heh. Catch on quick." Anti smiles, flashing the fangs. "Most people think the fashion thing is just a gimmick I'm doing. Even if I was to tell them, they'd just be like 'yeah, sure kid, that's cute,' and not realize that I'm older than them and not joking." He leans back against the counter. "So. What're you doing here, then? If you're from a whole 'nother world?"

Magnificent laughs. He leans up against one of the walls, "Well... that's the thing. Usually when my annoyances prance into other universes I try to tag along but... this time I had no idea. And I still ended up in one. And now well... I won't look a gift horse in the mouth." He grins sinisterly, "So many worlds to see... magic to steal, copycats to kill. It's all too much fun to pass up~"

Anti nods. "Cool. So... annoyances? Lemme guess, there are other people from other worlds here too, and they hate you."

"Yes. A bunch of dirty do-gooders who thwart my plans constantly. A duo of brothers. And... well. The human they cart around. The brothers pose a significant threat but the human is useless."

"They always are," Anti agrees. "Alright. I know all that now. Are you gonna go try to find these guys and stop them? Maybe kill them?"

"Mmm... mayhaps. Usually I go to find my other self and drain them- especially since most have unique magic. And knowing my cub... he's probably already found him." Magnificent grins, "But of course- if there's a bigger source to steal or even control then... that will also do nicely~"

"Yeah, I think I know your other self. He's... an 'annoyance.'" Anti snickers. "So. Can I come?"

Magnificent blinks and then grins, "... I don't see why not. It might prove useful to have an ally so versed in this world~" He laughs.

"Hell yeah." Anti grins wide, stretching his arms above his head. "I was so bored. So where are we gonna go, Mag? You want a big source of magic? I know a couple." 

“Ideally yes.” Magnificent giggles. “And a bigger source means common knowledge.. meaning we’ll lead all our annoyances to one spot~!”

"Alright. In that case, we could go to City Hall, or to the library," Anti says. "Those are the two biggest spots. Tons of magical shit, a lot of witches go there. Library might be better, if we break into City Hall the whole Night Council is gonna show up, and I don't think we should start with something that fucking big."

“Hm… no. I already caused quite the scene in a pub earlier. As fun as it would be to take down something called the Night Council- I think subtly is best at first.” Magnificent chuckles. He then gestures at Anti. “Well then, Anti. Care to lead the way?”

"Fucking 'course, Mag." Anti flashed another fanged smile. "Hope you're fast." And with that, he ran out of the shop. 

Magnificent is not expecting him to just- run. But he does laugh and teleport after him.

------------- 

The public library is a big box of a building, with a pair of stone statues out in front. One depicts a woman with bird wings--an angelic figure--and the other depicts a creature with large bat wings--some sort of gargoyle. There are benches out front, too, and it's here where Marvin, JJ, and Alt wait for the others. 

"Hang on a moment," Marvin says, tracing a circle on the ground with a stick and drawing some weird squiggly lines inside. The ground isn't soft, and the end of the stick isn't marked, but his movements still leave behind black lines. "I gotta summon Chase."

Alt glitches closer and watches curiosity, tilting his head. “…never seen a ghost summoning before.”

"It might be different in your world, if a way exists at all," Marvin says. "But here it's pretty simple if you're a witch. You just gotta draw these runes along the edges and the radiuses...radia? Radi? I dunno. And then in the center you write down the runes symbolizing who you're calling. It's easier for stronger spirits, and Chase is probably the strongest spirit I've ever seen. Weirdly so. That's why I think some necromancy bullshit went down with his death." 

Alt blinks in surprise, “Really? That strong huh? Hm… yeah that’s… hm.” 

Marvin pulls his mask down over his face and taps the circle three times. On the third, the black lines light up. Marvin chants something in Irish. "An dtiocfaidh spiorad Chase Brody amach." A beam of light shoots up from the center of the circle, and ghost Chase slowly fades into existence.

Alt glitches a bit at the beam of light and then smiles as Chase appears.

Chase steps out of the beam of light--though maybe it's more like 'drifts' out--and looks around. "Been a while since I've been here," he says. "Y'know, libraries are great. I never really thought about it before." 

Alt looks back at the library and smiles, “Libraries are great. Good place to go if you need someplace warm too.”

Marvin swipes his foot across the edge of the circle. "Hey, Chase." 

"Hey." Chase leaves the circle through the bit Marvin cleared--it must have been working as a barrier. "Hi Alt. Hi JJ." 

Alt grins and waves too, “Yo~!”

JJ smiles and waves. Good to see you. We still have some time until the others reach here. 

"Oooo, y'know what we could do, then?" Marvin pulls out a deck of cards in a clear plastic case.

Alt blinks at Marvin and then grins excitedly and glitches to be next to him on the bench. “Tarot reading!!”

“Exactly!” Marvin says excitedly. 

“Oooo,” Chase says, sounding very much like a stereotypical ghost. “I’ve never seen you do one.” 

I suppose we did have some downtime after all, JJ says. 

“Mm-hmm.” Marvin smiles at Alt. “So, what do you want to try? I can do a three card or five card fortune telling, a love reading, a personality assessment—a whole bunch of stuff.”

“Hmmm…” Alt puts his fingers on his chin to think. “…I dunno man. Whatever you wanna give me I guess! I’m curious just in general!”

“Alright. Hmm, I like doing personality assessments for new people.” 

You did that with me, I remember, JJ says. 

“Yep.” Marvin spreads the cards out on the bench between him and Alt. The backs of them are blue, with silver designs that look like crystals around the edges and an eye on the center. “You’ll need to pick five cards for this. For this first one, think about how other people think of you. Especially your friends and family.”

Alt nods and tries to think of that. Hmmm Chase calls him prickly. Which is accurate. He’s a bit cautious about new people and being touched sometimes. But he also knows his friends see him as kind- even if he felt he didn’t deserve that sometimes. He goes to draw a card.

When he flips it over, the card has an illustration of a man in medieval-type clothing with a hood pulled over his head, holding a bow and arrow towards the sky. The card is upside down, but Alt can read the words "The Hood." 

"Ah, the Hood, a rebellious figure," Marvin says. "When it's reversed like that, it often means someone who's tough on the outside but has a heart of gold. Others see you as sometimes difficult to approach, but worth the trouble."

Alt chuckles and nods, “Yeah that sounds spot on.” Huh… the illustration reminds him of something… something fuzzy from another adventure. Why is it so hard to recall?

"For the next one, think of what you do," Marivn says. "You know, like hobbies and your job and such."

Alt thinks- is magic a hobby? Probably. But also he likes to tinker with things- he wants to learn how to build stuff with magic in them. And his shows- his illusions. Guess his life did kinda revolve around magic now. He draws the second card.

This one has an illustration of a man wearing a cat-like mask, one hand pointing up towards the sky and one pointing down to the ground. At his feet is a white cat with gray patches. It's titled "The Magician." 

"Hey, same hat!" Marvin says, delighted. "The Magician is a force of will power and ambition. Someone who takes potential and makes it powerful. Your 'role', so to say, is often someone who likes making things happen, perhaps taking on big projects." 

Alt beams and glitches slightly in place. “Yeah I like making things! Magic- art sometimes- I wanna figure out how to do like… I dunno- magic machines or something.” He shrugs.

"That guy in the picture has a mask like yours, Marvin," Chase says. 

And that cat sort of looks like Higgins, JJ adds. 

"Yeah, I've noticed. That's one of the reasons I bought this deck." 

Alt looks at the cards closer and blinks, “oh yeah huh… I see it. That mask gets used a lot by other Marvins too.”

"Must be a universal constant," Marvin says. "Do you have a mask?" 

Maybe that bandanna functions as one? JJ guesses.

Alt smiles timidly and fiddles with his mask. “Uh… yeah I guess mine in this one… not nearly as cool though. Dunno if I could get away with wearing a cat mask though.” He chuckles. 

 "Oh yeah. Well, anyway. For this next one, think of... it's hard to describe. Your power, your capabilities, things you can do. Sort of similar to the last one, but more like... like if you were pushed to a limit, what would that be like?" Marvin says.

Alt blinks and thinks of this new prompt. Pushed to his limit huh…? Brief flashes of his Phoenix form comes to mind- raging electricity and bright light. He feels like that fits more than well enough- so he draws another card.

The illustration of the card is bright and vivid, showing a silhouette that's breaking apart into pixels. Two green eyes shine in the dark face, and a long scarf winds around the figure's neck. The title is "The Glitch." 

"Oooo, one of the last cards in the sequence," Marvin says. "Interesting, interesting. The Glitch--or the Error--is a figure who breaks the rules. Not intentionally like the rebellious Hood, it is just in its nature as a mistake. Either you don't think very highly of your abilities, or your abilities exist outside an established system, and are therefore very powerful."

Alt blinks in surprise. That looks like Anti from the IV universe. Scarf and all. Guess if Alt had to think of “glitch” he’d be the first one he’d think of. He laughs, “I think it’s a little bit of both?”

"You seem pretty capable to me," Chase says, giving Alt a small smile. 

"Don't worry about yourself, Alt, I'm sure you can take care of yourself." Marvin nods, agreeing with Chase's statement. 

Alt’s face turns a little red as he smiles shyly. “Heh.. thanks.” 

"Alright. Second to last one. Think of your past. Who you used to be, how different you are now, and how it's all shaped you." 

Alt’s smile fades a bit as he thinks about his past. Honestly? He doesn’t like thinking of it now… his present is so much better. His past was filled with so much hurt and hate… being Impulse, being lost on the streets… lonely and just so so angry. The him from back then felt like a completely different person now. With this in mind, he draws the card.

The card is a very simple illustration of a small child sitting cross-legged on the ground, a light shining down on them and protecting them from the darkness around. In their arms is a beat-up plushie of some sort of pink animal in a paper crown. The title is "The Orphan." 

"I never liked that title," Marvin mutters. "The Orphan is someone who is lost, often without guidance and looking for a sense of safety or home. You probably spent a lot of time on your own, not sure what to do. I'm... sorry."

Alt stares at the card with a heavy feeling in his chest. He slowly nods. “…yeah…” He then looks up and tries to smile at Marvin, “I-it’s okay now though… I’m not alone anymore.”

You have your brother and your friends, right? JJ says. He smiles gently. You're very lucky. They seem great. 

"I'm glad it's better now," Marvin says quietly. Then he clears his throat. "Alright. Last card. Think of the opposite of yourself. Something you don't want to be, with a personality composed of the worst qualities to you." 

Alt’s eyes burn with hatred as one name comes to mind: Magnificent. Power hungry and obsessive, vindictive and hurting innocents. He also thinks of the King, even if it sends shivers down his spine. He would never be like them… controlling the weak and believing themselves to be like gods. With this in mind he draws the final card.

The card that he draws then depicts a man sitting at a banquet table filled with food, and yet his face is thin and sunken. There's something familiar about the static, tattered cape he's wearing. And the title? "Hunger." 

"Ah." Marvin nods. "Hunger, a never-ending want for something, often coming with the ambition or arrogance to harm others to fulfill the want. So, you don't want to be the sort of person who reaches for power no matter the cost. That's a good thing to not want to be."

Alt feels his breath leave him as he sees the card. He’s- he’s seen this one before. Where? Where… It hits him like a ton of bricks. 

He’s in a beautiful glowing forest, a tunic on and chainmail weighing on his arms and chest. He’s.. on the ground, playing a game with two fair folk. What were their names,..? Lasta and Caba. They call Mag and mu Rith the King the name of the card… Hunger. 

Alt gasps slightly and grips at his head, his mind suddenly aching. He… He forgot so much from that journey. Seeing the card again brought some of it back.

Marvin blinks. "Are you alright, Alt?" he asks with surprising gentleness. He reaches out to touch him supportively--and in the process knocks some of the cards onto the ground. He glances down at them, frowning. 

"Alt?" Chase asks. "Do you have a headache?" 

Anything we can do? JJ asks, leaning a bit closer.

Alt snaps out of his thoughts as Marvin reaches out and he looks out at the others, glitching slightly. “Oh s-sorry I just…” He grips at his wrist and adds quietly. “…I’ve seen that card before but only once and… I didn’t… remember where until just now.” He laughs bitterly. “It… wasn’t a great experience. M-More dark magic shit so…” He smiles at the others, “But I’m okay. Really.”

JJ and Chase exchange glances. "Okay... if you're sure," Chase says. "Let us know if we can help." 

"Yeah, we're happy to," Marvin says. He bends over and picks up the cards that fell. "But, um. Also... this is strange, but... the cards fell down in a rough row, that's not... how cards usually fall..." 

JJ glances at him. Is this really the time for something like that? 

"I'm just saying. If Alt's okay... I want to talk about it." 

Alt blinks and then tilts his head at Marvin. “…a rough row? Huh… well-yeah sure. Go ahead.” Honestly, he could use the distraction.

Marvin nods. "Here. They were laid out like this." He lays them out in front of Alt, recreating it for him. 

The Hero: A man in a red hoodie and black mask, standing atop a modern building. 

Flood: A body of water, with rain falling from the sky into it. Beneath the surface are humanoid creatures with tails instead of legs. 

The Doctor: A man in a white coat and glasses, sitting at a desk and looking thoughtful. 

The Moon: A path leading from a body of water across a field, with a full moon looming large in the night sky. 

The Hierophant: A man with dark hair and black eyes--though one is half green--sitting on an ornate chair. 

The Shadow: Someone dressed in white standing against a wall, a black shadow cast behind them in mirror image. 

Fracture: A colorful background broken by a black, branching crack. 

Remembrance: A coffin, half black and half white, surrounded by monochrome roses. 

"I... don't know what it means," Marvin says slowly. "Do they mean anything to you? I think... I think that this sequence is supposed to be significant."

Alt knits his eyebrows together in confusion, looking at the sequence. He tries not to shudder as he sees another card he remembers. “I’m… not sure actually… I mean… the first one kinda looks like a hero I know. And we did meet some mermen earlier… huh…”

"Mermen? Oooo, cooool," Chase says. "Hey, are merpeople real in this universe?" 

"If they are, they don't interact with us at all," Marvin says. He stares at the sequence, tilitng his head. "...huh. If the first two seem familiar, maybe... maybe this is like a fortune telling for your journey. Probably more literal than most readings are. So, first was a world where you met a hero, then was a world of water, then was a world where... a doctor played a key part? Or maybe logic and science? And the moon is here." 

That makes sense, JJ says. We're sometimes called people of the night, us witches and vampires and ghosts and such. The moon, the night, it fits. 

"So these four will be your future," Marvin says. "Somewhere... traditional, or with strict rules. Somewhere with a... pairing? Or a rivalry? Somewhere broken, and somewhere connected to death, but not too connected to death, otherwise the Death card would've shown up."

Alt’s eyes widen. “The last world was very… doctor-y… that means… 4 out of 8… that’s like 50% right.” He pales slightly, looking at what is supposedly his future. “…so we’re not gonna get home for a while… huh…?” He doesn’t like the look of the future cards.

You never know, JJ says. You could go really fast through these worlds. 

“Fortune telling isn’t an exact art, this could all be one big coincidence,” Marvin adds, putting the cards back into the deck. “A hell of a coincidence, but it’s possible. Readings have come out as bullshit before.” 

“Even if it’s not, isn’t it nice to know what’s going to happen?” Chase asks. “To have a deadline, in some ways? Heh. Deadline. Cause… cause I’m a ghost.” He pauses. 

Marvin and JJ stare at him. 

“If I can’t make jokes about it, what can I do?” he says defensively.

Alt snorts at Chase's joke. "Yeah... I guess. Maybe we can be a bit more prepared. Guess we'll just have to see."

Marvin nods. “Always good to be prepared. Like I said, if I’m interpreting it right… somewhere with strict rules, somewhere with a rivalry or duality, somewhere all broken and probably not fun to be, and somewhere connected to death, or maybe memory. I dunno. Remembrance is a funny card, it usually means some sort of moment of clarity after a big change.”

Alt nods and tries to put that all into memory. "Sounds like it's gonna be a real fun time... goddamnit it Mag- I swear this is all his fault." He leans back and sighs but then laughs, "Then again... Visiting other worlds isn't always bad. We usually end up meeting really cool people." He smiles at the others.

Marvin smiles back. “Yeah. Maybe if you could find some way to come back without him, you could. I’d love to learn more about other worlds.” 

You also love to prove that you’re right, JJ says. Especially to people who call you a crazy cult witch for believing in other worlds. 

“I’ve never heard anyone in my life call me a crazy cult witch.” Marvin shuffles the cards absentmindedly. 

Alt beams, "Oh I'm definitely saving this place to visit again! This is one of the coolest places yet! I wanna come back and learn so many things- and look around at your shop some more! Maybe you can even teach me to read the crystaleye cards!" 

“Hell yeah, I’m up for talking cards any time,” Marvin grins. 

Chase perks his head up, looking down the street. “Wait a minute. Is that…” 

There’s a car barreling down the road. That does not look like a safe speed, JJ says. 

“You think anything faster than ten miles an hour is an unsafe speed,” Marvin says. “Jack is just going a bit over the limit, it’s fine.” 

“Bro, he just got his license, are you sure?” Chase says. 

“It’s fiiiiine.”

Alt blinks and looks back where Chase is looking and then laughs. "Oh- Jackie is gonna be clinging on for dear life. He's a dad so- he's alll about safe driving."

Chase blinks. “Your Jackie is a dad? I am too! I mean, I was? I mean, kind of hard to be a dad as a ghost, but I still see Stace and Dec around—oh uh, Stacy my wife and Declan my son. I-I hope I can introduce them to all this someday. Or at least to this new me.” 

Alt smiles, “Yeah- Jackie has 3 kids. Sweetest things. Though I swear Penny is gonna grow up to be a punk- she has that air to her.” He laughs. He smiles more gently at Chase, “I’m sure you’ll find a way, Chase. They’ll probably be happy to see you.” 

The car pulls to a sudden halt outside of the library. Jackie—the Jackie from this world—is the first to get out. “Whoo!” he shouts. “That was so cool!” 

Jackieboy tumbles out of the car, looking sick and pale. “N-Next time I’m driving- ohhh my god that was dangerous.” 

Seems our Jackies are quite different in ways, JJ comments. 

Alt laughs, looking at Jj, “For real.”

Bro hurries out of the car and grins. “Man what a rush!”

Schneep practically falls out of the car after Jackieboy does. “I am going to be sick,” he mutters. “You do not want a vampire to be sick, you will never get the bloodstain out.” 

Bro helps Jackie get over, patting his back. "You're okay, buddy!" Jackieboy groans.

“Heheh… sorry,” Jack says, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t want the guys to be waiting too long. Not to mention how dangerous this guy sounds.” 

“We’re all here now and that’s what matters!” Jackie says cheerfully. “Now we need to break into the library.” 

“No, we don’t need to break into the library,” Marvin says, standing up. “There’s a secret way in.” He points at the gargoyle statue. “That’s enchanted. See?” He walk up to it and puts his hand on the side of the plinth the statue is on. And his hand sinks right through. “It’s an illusion.” 

Alt perks up and glitches to be right by Marvin, seeing the illusion and grinning wide. "Oh cool!"

“I always wondered why there was a big hole in the side of the statue,” Jack says. 

Marvin chuckles. “Right. You can see through them. It’s also enchanted that only people with magic can pass through the barrier. But I know a way to make an allowance for Jack and other Jackie.”

"I thought the library was public..." 

"Probably not the magic part-" Bro comments. 

Well even public libraries close at night, JJ says. But you’re right, the secret part is obviously not public. 

Marvin runs a finger along the edge of the plinth, muttering some vaguely Gaelic sounding words, the eye tattoo on his hand glowing, and the whole illusion part of the plinth wavers and turns slightly green. “There, now everydays can get in for a short period of time.” 

“You guys go on ahead,” Jack says. “I won’t be much use fighting an evil witch. I think it’s better if someone stays out here and keeps watch. I’ll text you if I see anything.”

Alt nods, "If you're sure." 

Bro drags Jackie along. Jackie looks apprehensive but also curious. Alt grins and then leads his friends inside. 

As soon as the group steps into the illusion, they suddenly find themselves stepping out of a door next to the library’s AV section. Some of the lights are off, casting the shelves of DVDs in shadow, but some of them are still on so everyone can see. 

“There.” Marvin points down an aisle towards a set of elevator doors on the wall. “We need to get there. There’s a secret sixth floor.” 

“Will the elevators even work at night?” Schneep asks, frowning. 

“Of course. With maaaagic.”

"Do elevators ever turn off? Feel like that'd be a waste of electrcity," Jackieboy comments quietly. 

"..huh- I never thought of that. Yeah why would an elevator need to shut off?" Bro thinks outloud. 

Alt shakes his head, "Let's focus please?" He looks around and shivers a bit, "Though... the lights being off does make it feel kinda creepy in here."

"Creepy?" Jackie says, looking around. "It does?" 

"Seems fine to me," Schneep says. 

"Well Jackie can see in the dark and you haven't been in direct sunlight in fifteen years, so your standards are a bit fucked," Marvin says. 

Alt laughs, "Yeah that does skew things a bit." 

The group hurries over to the elevator. Jackie presses the call button and the doors open right away, so they all file in. 

Once in the elevator, Alt glitches a bit anxiously. 

Once the elevator doors close, Marvin taps on a spot above the floor five button. A glowing white circle appears with the number six on it, which he then presses. The elevator moves, and they wait. 

Even magical lifts go slow, don't they? JJ comments. Unfortunate. You'd think they'd figure a way around that.

Bro laughs with JJ, "Dude yeah! If you can magical lifts why not make them like- teleport you or some shit?" 

"Maybe some people just like the novelty of it." Jackieboy shrugs.

The elevator doors open again, revealing the secret library. It looks very similar to the library downstairs, with rows of bookcases, small sitting areas, a directory, and a circulation desk. But the style is different. Instead of metal bookcases and modernized chairs and tables, there are heavy wooden bookcases and older-styled sofas and tables. The lighting here is soft yellow-orange, and everything seems to have an art noveau design to it to match the patterns on Marvin's shirt. 

The directory lists subjects like "Spellcasting" "Witch Theory" and "Biographies (200+ yr lifespans)". 

Behind the half-circle circulation desk is a big illustration of a tree with many branches, all labeled with different words. For example, a Nature branch has an Elemental branch coming from it, which has a Water branch, which has an Ocean branch. 

There are a surprising amount of people up here for a library that was so empty in the floors beneath. A man behind the circulation desk waves at them as they come in as he scans a book titled "History of Night Councils."

Alt's eyes start to sparkle as he looks around the library, his smile only getting wider. HIs shoulder buzz and pop with electricity and glitches but he tries to keep himself contained since there's so many people. "L-Look at all of this!!" 

"Uh oh- Alt's enamored," Bro snickers. 

"Shuddup I didn't give you a hard time in the hero world!"

Chase laughs. "No, I agree, it's so cool to see, isn't it? Even if I don't understand all of it. But... we need to focus. We need to warn these people about Magnificent." 

Marvin nods. "Jackie, come on, we're talking to this circulation guy." 

"What?" Jackie says. "Why me?" 

"Because you're better at talking to people than I am and also those burns will help sell how serious the situation is." 

Jackie sighs. "Okay, fine." 

Alt shakes out of his awe and goes to follow after Jackie and Marvin, "I can try to help to!"

Outside, Jack sits in his car with the power off, trying to make it look empty. He glances up from his phone to scan the area--and sees someone suddenly appear out of the shadows. And someone else suddenly appears next to them, teleporting into view. "Oh shit," he whispers, and starts writing a text. He hopes it will reach them in time. 

"This is the place," Anti says to Magnificent. "There's a secret floor on the top where all the witches and shit hang out."

Magnificent dusts himself off as he stands tall and eyes the library. Oh... he can already feel the magic brimming within and he grins wide, his eyes glowing. "Excellent. We should pay them a visit~" 

Anti grins back. "We should. I never liked these uppity fucks. They think they're greater than they actually are. I think the floor is warded against teleporting, so we'll have to go through the library the usual way. Though it's not really all that usual, actually. There's a secret passage here." He walks up to the gargoyle plinth, demonstrating the illusory side much like Marvin did for the others earlier. 

Magnificent follows after and then snorts at the magic, "Ah, so simple." He chuckles, "Let's go then~" He heads inside.

[tortillasconsal]

Tell me your hcs for Jason the Toymaker, Julius the Dressmaker and Candy Pop? Please and thank you💕💕💕

I will only do Jason since I don't know enough about Candy Pop and I don't want anything to do that that Diet Coke Walmart Chinese copy yaoi Jason and their weird ass creepy ass annoying ass lying ass creator.

Headcanons for Jason the Toymaker

For what I understand about the original character, Jason is a sort of interdimensional demon. Or at least that's what he's gonna be in my AU albsakab

His store shows up apparently out of nowhere on almost forgetful and hidden locations so it doesn't get too much attention apart from his prey. A dark alleyway, a lonely street, an abandoned park, sometimes shamelessly in the middle of a highway or the middle of nowhere.

It is a sort of door towards his realm. At first like a regular old-styled toy store filled with trinkets and colorful toys of all kind, but behind the cashier place where Jason Meyer would assist you as a customer, behind that door where he shows up from. There could be a regular living room with a kitchen and some stairs that probably lead to a bedroom. Or there could be an endless corridor of gradually grotesque toys, or a twisted garden where his worm friend waits his dinner, or just plain black darkness.

He poses as a human, a pretty handsome young lad who enjoys building toys and has his own magic store where he apparently lives.

His usual meals are kids who wander into his toy palace and lost people who want a present for their lovely children or partner. Everyone who enters that place will never return.

He has been doing this for ages. Spotted from Victorian England to Cold War Russia. Feeding and searching all over the world for who knows what, and never seeming to be satiated.

Though he enjoys making toys and terrify his customer, his main focus is "The Chosen One".

Nobody really knows what or who is this "Chosen One", but it's something that Jason is always talking about. We can guess that it could be a young woman, since he is always praying after them, acting like a real charmer so he could lure them into his twisted wonderland and make them... His friend?

Like I said. No idea what he's actually doing.

Not even Candy Pop or April Fools know what is up with that man. Not that they care anyway, at this point it just seems like babbles from an old grandpa.

Anyway. There isn't much to talk about when it comes to Jason. What you see is what you get. He's not secretive, just someone who doesn't shout his sad backstory or evil plans just like that. It doesn't seem like a lot anyway.

His biggest mystery is his "Chosen One", he never gives a clear explanation of what he's talking about. Almost like he doesn't even understand it either. All he describes is a person to be with, someone who would listen and understand him, someone who would stay with him no matter what, who is willing to give and do everything for him.

Maybe the concept of love is to much for an interdimensional monster.

Now let's talk about what's easier for me to write.

Jason is not a demon or an angel. He's more of a mythical creature(? A monster from another dimensional plane, a magical dark being. It's hard to describe him, his true self exists on a different plane of existence from our world, with different concepts of reality and physics we could never understand as humans.

To have some sort of vision, his magic resembles a lot of that from Wonderland or Howl (from the Howl's Moving Castle movie)

His true form is unknown, when he gets angry he still manages to keep his human form while he's losing his composure. We can see hints of how it would look like though, with his burgundy hair turning silver white and his hands turning into black monstrous claws.

His magic isn't as strong outside of his store. Neither is he. Due to the difference in the metaphysical planes of our world and his he can't fully function and is very tiring to keep up with the many laws of physics we have. He is perhaps as powerful as a God inside his own place but he's nothing more than a pretty stage magician on ours.

Jason has no relations to Slenderman or the mansion. He's on his own, living in his magic toy store place behind a weird door he magically makes appear out of thin air.

He does have relationships with Candy Pop, April Fools and the Laughing Jacks (Jack and Jill), along with some connections on some circles of hell. But so far he has nobody living with him besides his toys.

He's overall a very toxic person. He's a "lying possessive control freak" as stated in his wiki. And he loves the attention, he acts like a princess. He doesn't like it when he's not the focus on the conversation and will make people go out of their way to do as he pleases because he doesn't feel like having dirt on his new shoes.

Even though he has the power to clean himself up.

Second request is done. I had a lot of fun writing this since the idea of a Wonderland-like magical being gives me a lot of creative freedom, though I struggled a lot since Jason is one of those characters I don't know much of. I am a Slenderbros girly, I can't help it.

But he is done. A lot shorter, earlier and messier than Jeff's because of what I just said. But done! I'll work on his design soon, but I won't promise a lot since I'm pretty in love with Jason's original design already ^^

[kirric-the-fan]

Did I have a weirdly plot sensible lie-in dream with a well executed plot twist on my bingo card for today? No. Am I making notes of it for a possible translate to precure fanfic? Yes.

So, I was like a general dogsbody/security for a sprawling shopping mall, and it turns out they'd been suffering from some thefts lately. And by thefts I mean, things like business secrets, special contracts, vital recipes sort of thing. Not the petty stuff . So the mall was recruiting spy-like special agents to try and find and stop the thefts. These agents included a number of sensible, regularly trained adults, and myself who happened to hear the right thing in the right place at the right time and wanted to pitch in, but it also included a number of the precure girls, including Manatsu, Yui, Nozomi (for some reason), and most of the most recent couple of precure teams.

So various investigations happen. There's a guy with small ears, a bald head, and a pink-check shirt that is under suspicion, but we're not able to prove it. There's a whole distraction of food, competition between the cure girls and the regular spies. And among it all I'm having to do the normal security job, including cordening off a surprise infestation of snakes in an area of the mall near where I was living (including a couple of small ones which kept turning back into lizards when picked up and handled freely). I used heelies to get around the mall a lot and chase leads, but I was allowed because I was an adult and secretly working for the mall.

I also got dragged off (while on the clock) by some of my old friends, including an old boyfriend who got me some food he owed for a long time in a I'll buy you the next one way, so I was stuck in a group of boisterous lads who I had to explain I had changed my name and didn't go by the old one, and there was a moment of "oh god, how are they going to react", but then they were like "that's so cool!" and all high fives and cheering on and pats on the back, which was extremely bro supportive and weirdly relieving.

And I just about escaped from that to get back to work and see how the snake situation is getting on and the call comes through that the thief has struck again. I caught a glimpse of the bald guy and give chase through the city, this time on rollerskates. Some of the other agents are doing the same, but a lot seemed to have different leads to follow and we're almost all split up.

Anyway, I chase down this guy, and as I'm catching him, he starts to go off-road, and I'm having to skate over rocks, proper cross-country technical stuff, down gullys and rock faces some of which I can only navigate safely on my ass. But I just about manage to keep up. Like, there was a lot of that, including a steep, semi-grassy zig-zag bit, and stoney ruins. But we as we caught up with him, nearly looped all the way around, he was gloating, trying to distract us, it seemed. On the way we he had been saying there was a mole in the agency, and that he had already offloaded the information. But as we caught him, the info was gone and we realised it had to be true. The way he kept gloating about the mole, that they were deep within the agency, closer than you suspect, ready to activate whenever they needed them, implied them to be one or more of the cures. So I get back full circle, and the cures are there, and right on cue it looks like Manatsu and Nozomi might be reacting to something, but then it stops, and they are able to transform (proving to not be the moles).

But a wave of ominous darkness comes through from the nearby plaza, classic villain/monster of the week warning signs, and I take a look. I can't see who or what it is, I can just see the Wonderful cures by their coloured ribbon bits standing out in the darkness, and then a voice comes from the darkness, obviously corrupted, obviously not quite themself, but it's also quite obviously Yui, who I suddenly realise hadn't been in the other cure line up I had witnessed on my return.

I kinda woke up at that point, but yeah.

[consistentsquash]

HP Fic Recs! Snapecase Sunday!

Check out Snapecase! The fest is still going on. Lots of Snape centric fics/art! I didn't get the time to read everything but I got some recs from my reading. Definitely check out the fest for yourself.

5 fav fics with 5 different vibes.

Candles Lit Against the Dark

Pairing - McGonagall/Grubbly Plank.

Length - 11000 words

Vibe - Feel good with a happy ending. BANTER!!!!

Author's summary - It's been a few months since Minerva's retirement, and she'd promised Wil a dinner out. Before she knows it, friends start turning up on her doorstep and then at the pub, not least among them a certain spy who came in from the cold.

Rec - READ THIS! The longest fic of the fest iirc. But also the best! My favorite fic of 2023 so far!! Don't miss this fic! I love literally everything about it. The prose, the really sharp banter, the characterizations, the dynamics of their relationships. A lot of times we get to see the postwar setting when stuff is really raw or when they sort of got over it. This fic has a really low stakes premise of a retirement party but the undercurrents of their history/war is super present. The writing has this really precise balance where it feels light but it is at the same time dealing with tons and tons of complicated PTSD and messy baggage. ALSO SNARRY! Technically background Snarry but not really. It's right in your face. McGonagall's face I mean! :D :D ALSO THE BANTER! Sorry but not sorry! This is an ALL CAPS SCREAMING fic. Some real Seinfeld moments with the sharp banter.

Vibe quote

Wil wasn't a smirker, but it was a near thing. "Not that our dear old Skunk isn't capable of riding a bucking broom into the nearest cloud all on his own, but I did put the wind up his bristles. The therapeutic effects of working with the herd get raised now and then when we're out on the hillside and Severus is in a receptive mood. Harry being one of our lad's personal Boggarts – not that that's ever been a secret – I thought it worth mentioning his recent distress. Divorce and all. Gave my opinion that somebody ought to nudge the lad into beneficial activity."

Rec note - the fic that made me late for work. No regrets.

Womb

Pairing - gen, Phineas POV

Length - 2900 words.

Vibe - Angst with a happy ending. GENDER!!!

Author's Summary - Phineas revisits the question of legacy.

Rec - a solid premise of Found Family with a twist like A Christmas Carol. Phineas thinks his legacy is over because Sirius is dead. But he starts to accept legacy isn't about blood and "adopts" Snape. I mean. Sort of. Technically he saves Snape. I mean. It's complicated! Read it read it read it!!!! OMG!!!! It's a beautiful and eerie fic with lots of unforgivable magic which you forgive anyway because the motive is love. Also lots of gender. Definitely be careful with this fic if you have some gender dysphoria. It has a lot of detach/remove and some really clever techniques to kind of abstract the harder stuff so it doesn't feel dysphoric but these things can be YMMV. Phineas POV! He is super hard to sympathize with because he's pretty much into the purity thing. But you can definitely see where he is coming from and why/how he changes. ALSO SNARRY PRESLASH??

Rec note - So this fic has some serious Giger vibes. Giger designed the chestburster Alien in the Alien franchise. A strange combo of gender imagery.

Vibe Quote

And out came bursting a stick-shaped, sour-shaped man, bawling as only a newborn could, naked as something sprung from the mother, with pigment smearing him in afterbirth.

Some Semblance of Family

Pairing - gen, Eileen POV

Length - 2200 words.

Vibe - Angst with Glass Onion vibes!

Author's Summary - Eileen returns to Prince House on familial business.

Rec - Hardcore Snape fam angst. Really brilliant/sharp Eileen characterization. Love the character study. Also really loved the world building in the fic! Shortfic but does a lot with the word count! It's going to break your heart.

Vibe quote

Eileen realised that her great uncle was right, that she was wrong, that she had allowed hope, as usual, to poison her, and with a bitter, eldritch shriek, she began unburdening herself of her own searing disappointment.

The Watched Pot

Genfic with Snape POV.

Length - 2100 words.

Vibe - Angst!

Author's Summary -In the aftermath, Severus has no plan other than a potion.

Rec - I don't want to spoil the fic because the suspense is a big part of this fic. It's a brilliant Snape POV fic with super sharp characterization of Eileen and her relationship with her son. Heartbreaking. But ofc it's Snape. That's his thing!

Vibe Quote

"It's an old wives' tale, you know," Eileen says. "What is?" "That a watched pot never boils. Eventually, with enough time and heat, everything boils."

It was Magic

Pairing - Tobias/Eileen

Length - 1100 words

Vibe - SCHEMING!

Author's Summary -Tobias and Eileen's wedding day is the result of a magical connection.

Rec - OMG! This fic! Tobias and Eileen are big little liars!! Lots of intrigue/mystery/complicated motives. But you also feel for them and also feel really scared for their future/Snape's future. Super sharp writing which keeps you guessing nonstop!

Vibe quote

It's a small wedding because neither Tobias nor Eileen have any family, at least, that's what they've told each other.

[tarnishedhalo]

S'a good year, this

Ron hadn’t told a soul he’d been sniffing round the online auction scene. Back in London he’d loved going to ‘em in person now and then. They’d been a change of routine, a chance - because these weren’t your general service sort of auctions - to live within the means he’d earned, not the ones he’d had as a little lad living in Hoxton twenty-and-some years ago now. Granted moving overseas had put paid to swanning round Sotheby’s, London, in his best togs, but he couldn’t complain really. The US had its own rich-bids get togethers he could get a hand in on, and the Net – that made things even easier.

And that was how he’d come upon a very specific gem.

Flush with the the takings of a fucking good few months on New York’s entertainment scene he’d signed on to his most trusted theatre for bidding wars and almost fallen out his chair at the sight of lot number #10174. He was decided in that very moment, if he got nothing else out of his bidding ventures, This Lot had to be his. That it’d come up this year, with the perfect number, the perfect vintage on the bottle’s delicate curves – it was fate. It had to be. So he bid, and bid, and the war was fierce between him and a good fifty-seven Very Interested Persons but in the end–

Victory.

He’d practically rocketed out his chair, had Ron, when the lot was called for him. He’d danced round his apartment, scooping up Duchess the pup and waltzing with her as funds were exchanged, delivery was finalised, and the wait for his prized acquisition began. Bless the auction house, it only took two weeks to make it across the pond to his door; just in time for it to wrapped, presentation box and all, and hand delivered. A middle-evening trip up to Casa Riley - sans elevator trouble, he noted curiously - saw effusive happy returns wished when he was met at the door, a card and the wrapped spoils of bidding wars acquisition presented with a muted flourish. And when they were unveiled - his attempt at wrapping neat enough to imply some serious help from May - well…

“S'a good numbah, this'n…” Ron smiled. “-‘Appy birfday, Trouble.”

“Oh.”

A pause between smoke and steel. “My.” Yeah, here it comes. One of the favourite children of Saints long dead and immortalized in prayer, about to drop the blaspheme of a lifetime. However, what ends that tirade isn’t English or Latin but the melodic depths of the language of his ancestors. “naofa... focáil.”

Maybe not intentional. Ron’d come to wish him a happy birthday even though Riley tends to be notoriously if not secretive about it, certainly not the type to advertise, especially the older he gets. Tonight he’d been indulging in playing a selection of his older guitars along with a couple Thelonious Monk albums after dropping his sister off at work.

The coffee freshly brewed scents the apartment’s air along with his sister’s plants, the smoke from the cigarette he’s fidgeting with, a spectral hint of his cologne, all clean and woodsy notes that are never particularly strong. His jaw works a moment or two all the while emphasizing the stubble giving it a heavy shadow.   “I.”  Another pause.  “I ain’t even got the words, Rawnie.”

Even when and where it might behoove him, fear and the expression of on his face is something that Riley hasn’t got in him, but for a split second it seems as though he’s terrified to so much as lift the bottle; fear of breaking it, fear that he might be dozing off in his chair and having a vivid dream, something intangible. Though if he’s being honest, his heart beats like the bass and drum line for War Pigs. His head shifts, eyes dark ~though they’ve always been deeper than his sisters, the green sharper than the brown~ and pensive as he stares at his friend across the coffee table. “Not for nuthin’ but like...I don’t know if I wanna drink it with you, or put it in a vault.”

This of course is a rhetorical sort of philosophy, an explanation of how deeply he’s touched and likewise how he tends to shroud those kinds of emotion deep under his armor of glibness and charm. Then just like that it sort of evaporates as Riley lifts a hand and takes one deep drag of his Marlboro before putting it out in the large heavy crystal ashtray that may or may not be able to shatter someone’s skull a time or two before entertaining the idea of cracking.

He looms large at Ron’s side as he makes a stop beside him. The open neck of his shirt becomes a deep V as he leans down and hugs Ron with a surprising lightness, slowness, every move telegraphed from the careful bend at his waist. A moment later that pressure of him is gone and his jacket is getting left behind on the chair he’d vacated.

“But thanks for goin’ through the trouble, and for thinking of me, a chara.” He makes his way across the sumptuous space that occupies a large portion of the apartment, a combination great room, kitchen, dining area, and to a small glass enclosure near the built-in wet bar. He takes out two crystal tumblers, and a few seconds later, puts three polished stone cubes into one, taken from the same small refrigerator as the glasses themselves. “Onna rocks, right?”

[harrison-abbott]

GORDO

Gordo had sleep problems all his life. Which was a short life: he lived for sixteen years. When he was young his parents took him to the doctor to talk about how he couldn’t rest. They did tests on him. With paper and they tried medication too. He ‘failed’ the paper tests. And the medication gave him these erratic side effects. So they stopped on those fronts.

 At the age of ten, Gordo’s parents split up. The father left. Within the next six years Gordo saw his Dad four times.

 Gordo got heavily into videogames. And because he could never sleep he explored the internet, at night, on his own, in his silent room. (This was the golden age of the internet; before any restrictions, before anything.) For limitless time he would sail the glorious prickly lights of the web.

 His mates liked the net, too. And there were nerds, with it, too: and taught Gordo tricks and secrets; they had a forum where they sent each other goofy stuff. And they had a group game on the military videogame too. Shooting other people.

 The famous shoot em up game. Gordo was the best at it. He got the most kills.

 He was the best because he just had such an amount of time in which to practise.

 There was one night, when the lads were playing games.

 When they had the forum up and were chatting whilst they killed the men on the screen. Gordo posted up this photo. To the forum – and it wasn’t a meme or meant to be funny – it was real. And the image changed the mood in the group.

 “What’s that, Gordo?” one of the boys typed.

 “It’s something I found. What do you think of it?” Gordo said.

 “What do you mean?”

 “I wanted to show you this. To see what you thought.”

 “That’s not cool, Gordo. Could you take that down please?”

 None of the boys said anything apart from the one guy who challenged the image.

 Gordo got angry. And left the forum. Stopped playing the game also, mid-war.

 And stewed, in his room, embarrassed and ashamed, for days, because they hadn’t liked what he’d shown them. Then he thought up some apology to tell the buddies. He aimed to explain that what he’d posted had just been a joke, and he hadn’t meant to offend them.

 But when he tried to log back into the forum, the friends had blocked him from it. And he was no longer in the videogame group.

 Gordo wondered what to do. At first, the betrayal from his mates seemed the worst possible thing.

Then he began to fret that they might snitch him out – to someone else (who? who!) – who might place him in serious trouble.

 There was nobody to speak to. Gordo only ever talked to his friends about things which bothered him [even if it were just mundane shit at school; the teachers who were mean, the girls who were meaner, that sort of thing]. He could not go and tell his mother about it. She would not understand. And would probably freak out more than he was, would most likely tell him to fuck off, get out, which she’d already done several times, after he woke her up accidentally at night. (“Fuck off! You insomniac bastard!”)

 Gordo couldn’t go to school.

 One morning he just didn’t check in.

 Went into town with his laptop instead. He hung about in a coffeeshop, using the WIFI. He wanted to quit the city. Had a little bit of Christmas in his wallet. Just wanted to bail from this town, which had come to suffocate him.

 Gordo looked up where to get a bus, heading north.

 Then bounced down to the bus station and got on this bus with a nice blue 500 number atop it. And it was twilight when he left the city.

 He stayed on the bus for two hours. With the vehicle rolling in dark countryside. Gordo was only one of three passengers on the bus, and he’d never been in this part of the country before.

 And for almost no reason he could pinpoint, he started to feel sick. Put his bag on. And headed to the front of the bus, where the driver was, with that awful raging threat of bile. Assured he was gonna puke up.

 “I have to get off,” he said to the driver.

 “Huh?”

 “I need to get off the bus.”

 “Why?”

 “Let me off!”

 The driver was a bit scared of him. This looming, demented looking teen behind him. So he pulled over on the motorway.

 And opened the doors and Gordo went out of them. He dry retched on the cold black road. Nothing came out. Was nought in his stomach.

 “You all right, there, kid?” the driver called.

 Gordo didn’t answer.

 He just quit trying to vomit.

 And got up straight, and walked away from the bus.

 The driver got out of the booth and hovered in the air and called to him: asked if he wasn’t getting back onboard?

 Gordo walked and walked. Then stepped off the road and went into the fields.

 The driver stopped trying and drove on.

 Nobody ever saw Gordo again. There was a police inquest into where he vanished, why he did so.

 Suicide was the most probable explanation. They searched the forest where the boy got off the coach to see if he was in there somewhere, but nothing turned up.

 Gordo’s mother died of cancer half a decade later.

 She was his only relative.

 Gordo’s old videogame buddies from school found solace in never mentioning him ever again. Was better to pretend he’d never existed.  

[heartofspells]

@wolfstarmicrofic

Prompt: purple

They have an agreement. Or, better said, Sirius set forth a condition, and Remus had decided to go along with it. It had seemed better than the alternative at the time, and he thinks it still does, but sometimes he's not entirely certain anymore.

The two of them have been carrying on for a few months now. It had started as a half-drunken kiss and groping session that had left them awkward around one another for a while, at least until Sirius seemed to have become curious or impatient enough to try it again without the alcohol buzzing their heads into a weird sort of static.

But Sirius is nervous, still figuring things out – and scared, though he'll never admit it, at least not yet, and never outside of the darkness encased behind closed bed hangings – and Remus supposes he is too. He has no idea what this makes him or even who he is anymore. But if there's one thing Remus is solid on, it's Sirius Black.

So Remus had readily agreed. They hide it away, don't admit to what they're doing to anyone, barely speaking about it with one another except in the dark and the quiet, where secrets are kept and held close, safe. Protected.

"What's that?"

James jabs a finger toward Sirius as they walk over the grounds, returning from the greenhouses. Sirius pulls back, casting their friend and disparaging glare as he knocks his poking hand away.

"What're you on about?" he asks, James' hand still fighting to get at Sirius' neck.

"That," says James pointedly, and Remus sees it just before fingers latch around the top of Sirius' scarf that's slipped down enough to reveal the bruise that's blossomed like a glorious little claim. James yanks the fabric away, Sirius squawking in protest, still trying to battle him off. "Godric on a fucking erumpent. Who gave you that thing? It's bloody massive!"

His eyes are bulging behind his glasses. Beside Remus, Peter is gawking, open-mouthed, looking a little impressed. But Sirius is looking increasingly like a caged animal, trying to hide it away, his shoulders slouching with that easy way of his that Remus knows is anything but, a practiced gesture learned at a far too early age. He doesn't say anything, never so much as looks at Remus, but his mouth is tightening around its edges, a tell-tale sign of danger.

"It's bright purple," manages Peter finally, sounding amazed. "Like Dumbledore's robes purple."

James smirks as he studies his friend, eyes sweeping his neck appreciatively. "Those girls, huh? One of them is hiding something feral," he remarks cheekily, and Remus barely fights off the flush creeping up his own neck. Sirius doesn't deny it, only rolling his eyes, and Remus feels something in him shrivel just a little, only enough to really matter. "Look at that, lads. Seems like Padfoot's found himself a keeper."

Remus purposefully looks away, eyes tracking another group of students as they enter the castle, but they snap back as Sirius speaks.

"Think I have, yeah," he mumbles, sounding as though he's mostly talking to himself, but his gaze is fixed intently on Remus.

"What?" demands Remus, voice far higher pitched than he's currently comfortable with, though there's not much he seems able to do about it.

"Er, what?" intones James, some of his amusement dropping away, replaced by a perplexed expression.

Peter glances between them all. "Sorry, but what's happening?"

But Remus doesn't have an answer, only able to stare at Sirius, watching that wonderful smile slowly spread across his features, grey eyes warm and dancing. He looks as he does in the dark, when it's just them and their secrets. He looks like Remus' Sirius.

Sirius suddenly breaks the eye contact, gaze flickering over Peter before settling on James. "It's from Remus," he says, his tone casual. "The mark."

James gapes as Peter looks at Remus in astonishment. This lasts for nearly a minute before:

"He what?" he shrieks, and then he's lunging forward, tacking Sirius to the ground. Sirius grunts, protesting loudly, but James only ignores him through their tussle. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me, you twat?"

"Gerroff me, Potter," grumbles out Sirius, though the words are muffled, his face currently buried in James' armpit.

Peter and Remus stand back and watch them, not offering to help. Peter finally shifts his eyes away from their shouting friends and looks at Remus speculatively.

"Did you really give Sirius that mark?" he asks curiously.

Remus hums. "Did, yeah," he responds.

Peter only nods, his eyebrows lifting a little as he turns back to watch the show, laughing as Sirius lands a solid kick in James' kneecap.

[hopeymchope]

2022: The Rise of the Sneering, Manipulative Protagonist!

...and I mean that in the BEST possible way.

Based on my other writings on this Tumblr, you might read that headline and expect this to be a teardown of the characters I’m referring to. After all, you might think that a certain purple-haired lad with a checkerboard scarf could be described with the same words. But I say thee NAY! I come not to condemn the heroes of Tomadachi Game and Trapped in a Dating Sim, but instead to praise them!

So: Over the past couple of months, I’ve fallen in love with two boys who have truly embraced the notion of being the hero people need even if they’re not the one people want. Not only are they really compelling characters in their own right, it’s also interesting to see how their attempts to “playing the bad guy” contrast with somebody I’ve previously ragged on in this blog quite a bit. 

But we’ll get there. First, let’s talk about these two guys with their somewhat-similar solutions to problems as well as their obviously-similar hairdos.

We begin with Yuuchi Katagari, the protagonist of Tomadachi Game. (Which should really have been translated as “Friendship Game” for English audiences, but I guess someone in localization did precisely 1/2 their job and then rolled over for a nap or something.) Tomadachi Game is about Yuuchi and his friends getting trapped in a series game “rounds” where huge amounts of money are on the line — and unfortunately, huge amounts of debt are given to them from the outset. The kind of amounts that could destroy them and their families. I’ve given a VERY spoiler-free shout-out to it before. (And dont worry. I’m not gonna spoil either of these anime/manga/light novels beyond their setup details.)

The rest of the jist is that it soon becomes clear that the game is rigged towards making them all lose, and Yuuchi? He’s not going to let his friends destroy their lives. But he’s not going to let whoever’s behind the scheme get away with it, either. He wants justice.

A face you can trust. Clearly.

So, although Yuuchi starts off seeming pretty wholesome, once the titular game gets underway and shit begins to get real, he is soon looking a lot more... unhinged. He starts using his intelligence to manipulate everybody around him in such a manner that will lead to exposing more and more information about the game and its mastermind. Yuuchi is willing to act like an absolute maniac if that’s what he thinks the people in charge will want and need to see. He’ll embrace the role of villain externally, but at the same time, he’s working to keep his friends from suffering for their involvement — that is, provided their involvement is innocent. In the course of his actions, he appears to be manipulating all of his friends at times. And sometimes, it’s true. But even that manipulative appearance might be a maneuver in itself in certain cases — cases where, in reality, he’s being totally being upfront and honest with some of them while fronting for other people’s sake. 

It can sometimes be hard to figure out when he’s legitimately winning a game and when he’s legitimately losing one, because he just fronts so goddamn well. He’s easily one of the smartest characters I’ve seen in an anime — I’ve seen one YouTuber compare Yuuchi to the likes of Lelouch from Code Geass or Light from Death Note. And who doesn’t enjoy watching these sorts of master manipulators? .... Especially when they get to unload on people who’re much, much shittier. Having to act like a douchebag to other decent people? That may be necessary at times, but it kinda sucks. The complete jackasses though? Those are always the highlights.

Sure, he’s probably not gonna do it, but I mean... he’d be pretty justified if he did.

Even as things get tougher/darker for Yuuchi and he questions his own morality, starting to think that he really is a bad person at heart... the audience at home never has much reason to doubt his goodness. Even when he reveals some dark secret about his past, it inevitably seems to lead into a context that is actually NBD. And even when some of his friends seem to turn against him, he’s quick to forgive and bring them back under his protection — which they readily embrace. The result is surprisingly heartwarming.

Aw, see? He’s just an innocent lil’ fluffhead.

It just takes a little bit of honest communication to make his manipulative “villainy” into twisted teamwork. And sure, he stumbles a little bit — at one point he’s mean to one of his friends just because he wants to drive her away from him so she’ll be safe. But that same damn night, he rushes to be there for her and makes it all up to her. So even when he’s legit acting like an asshole, he can recover from those events pretty quick. Just because he’s playing 4D chess and acting like a psycho for external observers doesn’t mean he’s being a selfish dick about it for those who matter to him, and I love that.

I might love Leon Fou Bartfort even more, though — it’s hard for me to say. I just *might*.

Claims to hate “hot guys.” Is actually kinda hot though?

Leon’s the protagonist of Trapped in a Dating Sim: The World of Otome Games Is Tough for Mobs. YEAH, it’s one of those overlong titles that tells you “Oh, this is based on a series of light novels.” And it’s even a dreaded isekai story.

Historically, I don’t care for isekais much. Not only are they WAY overdone these days (and even when I write it in all caps and/or bold it, “WAY overdone” feels inadequate to explain just how fucking much isekai is out there currently), but I’ve found precious few of them do much with the conceit that feels unique. I do think Konosuba is pretty funny overall (though it has its obvious downfalls), and I adore the reverse-isekai The Devil is a Part-Timer! But in truth, I think I got more deeply invested in TiaDS than either one of those. This damn thing is something special.

The setup: Leon finds himself reborn in an otome game in which the matriarchical society allows noblewomen to attend an academy in their young adult years. Said academy is ostensibly about academics and etiquette, but it’s really about the men trying to impress the women that they’d make good husbands. Leon’s sister made him play this otome game to completion back in our world, and now, Leon hopes to use his knowledge of the game’s world and events to avoid any danger or drama. Initially, that seems like it’ll be easy because he’s just a background NPC of lower birth. But naturally, he soon finds that he’s going to face a horrible fate if he doesn’t achieve some level of nobility that will get him out of his predicament. And when he swiftly pulls THAT off, he’s forced to attend the same academy as all the game’s central characters. So once again, he tries to stay away from them and avoid their problems. And once again, he predictably cannot leave well enough alone. Both his moral code and his extreme irritation with the school’s highest nobility make him unable to stand aside and let things play out. That’s when he realizes that if he wants to both monitor what events are coming/what “route” the game is on AND also give some comeuppance to those who treat others as “lesser,” he needs to embrace acting like a douchebag. He must vilify himself to become the hero this world deserves. 

“Do you ever wonder why there are so many treasure chests throughout these dungeons? Like: Who put them there, and why?” “Nope. Sure haven’t.”

Leon is nowhere near as smart as Yuuchi, though. Even as he attempts to manipulate events through his behavior, his plans seem to backfire almost as often as they succeed. Sometimes he self-sabotages by acting impulsively. Leon is also probably a worse person than Yuuchi because he lacks Yuuchi’s self-doubt and self-awareness. It’s not too surprising when Leon starts to genuinely enjoy his cruelty on occasion, turning him into something of a “toxic gamer” type who verbally abuses others as he takes them out. (Yes, this supposed otome game has combat in it. Combat with mechs, even. Go figure.) But honestly, if gloating over people he beats in combat is his biggest sin? I think we can handle that. .... Though it is pretty rude, tbh.

Even with that character flaw, however? Leon waffles on his ability to fully play the villain role he’s assigned himself. Yuuchi is much more dedicated; Leon can’t help but make moves behind the scenes to help his enemies out so they don’t suffer overmuch for his actions. Even when he’s in the midst of a fight for his life, he refuses to kill anybody — something which his A.I. companion notes could definitely come back to bite him in the future.

That’s right, Leon has an A.I. companion: Luxion! Luxion was once housed within a robot that attempted to kill Leon. After a simple bit of reprogramming and a transition to a far less intimidating body, he now serves Leon with politeness that only barely masks his grumpiness and loathing. Their back-and-forth is really funny, and it’s cool to see how they gradually come to like each other at least a little more with time. 

Leon gives Luxion the privilege of naming his mech suit.

Even better, though, is Leon’s personal growth as he learns things about himself and how to treat others by comparing his behavior to that of the people around him. You see other characters in this world who first appear one-note come to show FAR more nuance, too. 

Plus, as I’ve said before, the English dub for this show is just insanely fucking good. Top-tier.

As much as I think Leon is great? I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention how cool Angelica is, too. By the end of the season, she was my second-favorite character. Angelica is the otome game’s ostensible villain — the girl who has it out for the protagonist and tries to prevent her from getting with any of the various pretty-boy nobles. She is also, like many of the characters in this show, deeper than she appears on the surface. Viewing the scenario from a different angle gives Leon a new perspective on her whole deal. The same goes for us viewers, presumably.

“Evil” is in the eye of the beholder, my guy.

But let’s get down to business (to defeat the huns): You might be inclined to wonder why I love these guys but despise Kokichi Ouma. After all, isn’t Kokichi ALSO publicly playing the part of the villain in order to draw out a mastermind and end a game — which sounds just like Yuuchi, who I claim to love?

To some of you, I bet the difference is already obvious.

Yuuchi and Leon are both keeping people in the loop on what they’re doing, and they avoid unnecessary cruelty (plus they try to make up for it with quieter acts of kindness). Yuuchi does try to do the “convince his friends that he’s evil” thing a couple of times, but he swiftly backs down on it in less than 24 hours. Because as soon as they need someone, he can’t help but be there to stand up for them. And Leon? Leon never tries to push his friends away. His initial pals at the academy, Dan and Raymond? They are ALWAYS in the loop on his plans. HIs newest friends, Olivia and Angelica? Even though he just met them, he’s still constantly open with them about what’s going on and why he’s doing it. His performance is only for the people he doesn’t know at all or just doesn’t like. 

Part of the fun is in watching them maneuver other people by pretending to be evil and/or psychotic while simultaneously being good-hearted people who show obvious care for others. Yuuchi and Leon are never going to be relentlessly cruel to the people around them without swiftly making up for it, and they’re never going to withhold information that could save lives for personal amusement. That’s only Kokichi’s jam, see?

Be Warned, Though: Neither “Tomadachi Game” or “Trapped in a Dating Sim” are currently a complete story as an anime. Both animes end with the door wide open for future seasons. But if you wish to keep going, the option to explore the source material IS there. Tomadachi Game’s manga is widely available in English online, and the series of Trapped in a Dating Sim light novels even has an official English publication that will take you far beyond the limits of the show. I don’t believe either of those source materials has wrapped up, however. So at some point, you’ll have to hit that wall. 

Personally, I’m going to start digging into those light novels first.

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster.  The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.  This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack  of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others.  Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies.  John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven. 

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together.  He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but  already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it.  A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp.  Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention?  To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one.  I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon? 

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch.  I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice.  I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts.  I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat.  The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man. 

[jadedxrealityw]

-Penmanship- Cedric Diggory x Female Reader

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: I- i love this request. I’m also hella confused by half of it so imma guess? Also i’m putting Lupin in this story because in my dr hes the defense against the dark arts professor and i do what i want really so like-

  Request: Okay so listen honey. A cedric diggory imagine where he constantly gets love letters every now and then from a secret admirer aka the reader. Not so secret though because she has the prettiest handwriting ever and it was very obvious. One day, Cedric like asks for her notes because he needed it??? She mindlessly gave it away because that's her long-time crush okay- and then after, Cedric gives it back and says she has a beautiful penmanship and reader just blushes, thinking about what she had done and- Gdjshdhxbhshgs so she tried like avoiding him because embarrassing really wow and then some days after, Cedric asks her what was the answer. She was like???? Was there a question????? Ced was like look at your notes???? And tHEN SHE RUMMAGES THROUGH HER NOTES AND SAW CEDRIC'S LETTER ASKING HER OUT.I've always been that freak in class with a pretty handwriting 😭 - 💐

  House: Hufflepuff

  Possible Triggers / Warnings: the fluff, Cedric being a cheeky bastard, cursing because i have a foul mouth

   ☼-☪-☼

  Cedric Diggory, 7th year Hufflepuff, quidditch captain/seeker, handsome, charming as a prince,  and one of the most popular guys at hogwarts along with Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, George and Fred Weasley, Blaise Zabini, etc. Anyway, like most girls and boys in Hogwarts, you fell for him. Hard.

  i mean- how couldn’t you, you shared almost every class him and he just seemed so kind and caring. He did have his smug side though that you rarely saw, but it was surely there. In layman’s terms: he was perfect in your eyes, and in your mind, you didn’t deserve him or his weird perfection thing he had.

  so you came up with a strange and somewhat coward way of confessing your feelings. Better than being embarrassed, normally guys and gals would get the young lad alone and confess there undying attraction to him and well- they’d get rejected. Everytime. It was almost as if Cedric had an attraction for no one.

  you decided to send love letters of sorts, but not really. They were more like letters of encouragement and it certainly wasn’t going to be a constant thing, just when you noticed a negative change in his attitude or anything like that. You would write him sweet compliments that you hoped weren’t to creepy as well.

  you just hoped that the letters brought Cedric some sort of happiness whenever he was low.

   ☼-☪-☼

  the Hufflepuff house had quite a grim aura this afternoon. The quidditch team had just lost a match against Gryffindor and even though Hufflepuffs were no sore losers, losing just sucked in general to anyone. It was sad to see your fellow housemates on the quidditch team so upset.

  the worst part was that Cedric had took the lose quite harshly since it would have gotten them a place in the quidditch finals of that semester. Now he would have to wait until next term to assure his team a spot. You noticed Cedric’s pained expression during the end of the game and left early.

  this was one of the moments where you could write something sweet and kind to lift his spirits and write you shall. You snuck back into your common room and quickly gathered up some parchment, ink, and a quill. You sat on the yellow loveseat as you wrote.

  ‘Dear Cedric, I’m sorry that you don’t get to participate in the quidditch finals, but don’t see this has a huge lose. You are still the most amazing quidditch captain and seeker i have ever seen. You should be proud of what you have accomplished so far. I just know you will do much better next term because your the kind of person to grow from your failures and such. It has inspired me to do the same with myself. Have a good rest of your day Cedric.’

  after writing what you needed to say you quickly make your way back to the quidditch field to see Cedric and his team slowly making there way to the changing rooms. Oh no. You needed to think fast. In a rushed state you slip into the boys changing room, no doubt feeling like a bit of a perv while doing so.

  it smelt like pure testosterone. you gaze around until your E/c eyes land on a small locker that had Cedric’s name on the front. Boom. With haste, you rush over and open the locker. The smell of fresh sage filling your nose. Odd. Anyway, you fold the letter and place it gently on on his clothes.

  after that you left.

   ☼-☪-☼

  as Cedric walked into the changing room he sighed deeply, running a hand through his golden brown hair that by then had collected sweat. His male teammates were quiet as they began to strip themselves of their protective padding.

  as the seeker opened up his locker to grab his regular clothes he spotted a folded up piece of parchment. By now he had been receiving letters for a bout a month now, so he instantly knew. He reaches in and grabs it from the locker. Opening it, he spotted the unique handwriting as always.

  as he read the words a wide smile grew on his face. He honestly looked like a lovestruck idiot who had just been kissed by an angel. After a month of receiving these letters, he now had a want for them. They always came when he needed them the most and always brought the brightest smile on his face.

  even after reading the kind words you had wrote for him, Cedric couldn’t help but wonder who was writing the letters with the unique penmanship. He had fallen for the anonymous writer and longed to know who there identity was, so he could say those feelings in person.

  but not once had they mentioned any descriptors that could lead him anywhere, no hair color, eye color, not even there gender. Cedric could less about any of those, but he needed those clues to find them, to find you. All he had was a stack of letters with unique handwriting.  

   ☼-☪-☼

  a week later

  one of the many classes you shared with Cedric was defence against the dark arts with professor Lupin, which was where you were walking into at this current moment. Oh yeah, you were deskmates (assigned) with him as well, which was totally not nerve wracking in the slightest.

  Lupin stood up from his chair in the front of the class as most of his students had taken their seats “Welcome, welcome everyone. Once your seated please pull out your textbooks and turn to-” before he could get another word in Hermione Granger’s hand had shot up in the air.

  professor Lupin gave her a small smile before nodding once towards her direction “Yes, Ms. Granger?” he asked. Hermione’s arm fell and she folded her hands across the wooden desk she sat at “You told us last week there’d be a exam today on the Chameleon Ghoul?”

  as groans fell from your classmates you heard the chair next to you slide across the floor “I haven’t missed anything important, have i?” that deep melodic voice you had grown to enjoy spoke. You turn your head to face the browned haired boy who wore a kind smile and questioning eyes.

  you manage to muster up a reply “Uh- Granger reminded Lupin that we have a exam today” you said cracking a quiet chuckle. He rolls his eyes dramatically and takes a seat in the chair, all while pulling out a couple pieces of parchment with his handwriting on it. You assumed it was his notes.

  “Of course she did. What’s the exam for?” he asks. You sit back in your seat to make yourself look less tense then you actually were. “Chameleon Ghouls” you say, watching the golden brown hair boy search through his notes. A frown formed on his face, one you noticed “Are uh- you alright there?”

  Cedric turns his head to face you, his frown replaced with a sheepish smile “I was at quidditch practice during that lesson. You wouldn’t mind me borrowing yours would you? I- I mean if it’s not to much of a hassle?” he asked. You shook your head quickly, not wanting him to be nervous.

  “Oh no it’s alright. I usually write two sets of notes for my friend Hannah who usually sleeps through her lessons” you say, making him chuckle a bit. You reach into your bag and pull out both pages of notes, handing him one. Cedric gently takes the notes from your hand, his finger grazing yours.

  it affected you more than you’d like to admit. You pull your hand away and place it back in your lap. Cedric smiles kindly before looking at the parchment you gave him. His brown eyes scan the handwriting, a smug grin plastered on his face. It took him a couple minutes to read the whole page.

   “Your penmanship” he spoke

  at this point you were looking at your own notes and for once not paying so much attention to him. You raise a brown in confusion before looking up at him “My penmanship?” you question. Cedric nods towards the parchment he held in his hand

  “The way you write is so unique, i could spot it in instantly among others. I could never forget it” he said sending you a wink. You were confused at first by his choice of words before it finally hit you. The letters. He had seen your handwriting so many times before, so much so that he couldn’t forget it.

  and you had so willingly, so stupidly given away something with your distinct penmanship on it. Oh merlin, you were so screwed. Your E/c eyes widen, opening your mouth to force out some answer but professor Lupin speaks instead. “Now notes away while i pass out the exam”

  Cedric casually faces forward in his seat once again as he slides over the notes you handed him minutes ago. You quickly snatch them and stuff it into your bag as a red hue tinted your cheeks. You felt so embarrassed at the moment and wanted the earth to swallow you up.

   ☼-☪-☼

  “Aright, leave your exams on the table and you may leave” Lupin spoke, while kids stood up from their desks to leave the classroom. In a haste, you sling your bag over your shoulder and make a beeline towards the door, not wanting to even risk Cedric questioning you about the letters. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

  for the next couple days you spent most of your time avoiding the hufflepuff boy who seemed to now show up everywhere you went. Almost like the universe was punishing you for being such an idiot in giving him those notes and you did feel like a total idiot. You really hoped he would just forget you existed.

   ☼-☪-☼

  a couple days later, friday

   you couldn’t avoid him forever though.

  back in professor Lupin’s classroom you had been quietly sitting next to Cedric almost the whole class period. What were you supposed to say to him anyway “We seemed to have finished early, talk amongst yourselves quietly for the rest of the remaining time if you so desire”

  well shit

  you lean back into your chair and sigh deeply. He wouldn’t talk to you right? He should of taken the hit that you were avoiding him, RIGHT? No of course not. You felt a tap on your shoulder and slowly turned your head to face Cedric “Yes?” you say, trying to keep your calm composure.

  “You still haven’t given me an answer, your cutting it pretty close there Y/n” he snickers, leaning in close to you since he spoke in a hushed tone. You instinctively lean back, cause like- boundaries. “I’m sorry, i don’t understand?” you spoke, a confused expression on your face.

   Cedric studies your expression for a moment before chuckling again “I guess i don’t leave letters as skillfully as you do” he says making your face go bright red “Check the notes that you gave me” he adds. You mumble an okay before opening your bag to grab the crumpled parchment. 

   when you unfolded it another piece of parchment had fallen into your lap. It was small and looked like it had been ripped off the sheet and folded up like a note you would pass to a friend during class. You reach down and collect, gently unfolding the top flap to read the words. 

   ‘It’s my turn to write you something my secret admirer or should i say Y/n L/n. Would you do me the honor of going out with me this saturday- Cedric’ 

   you must have read those couple sentences three times before you believed your eyes weren’t defective of some sort. You slowly place the note down on your lap once again, biting your bottom lip out of nervousness. Slowly looking over to your right you saw Cedric with a questioning glance “So?”

   a smile grew on your face before nodding “Yeah i’d love to”

   the date went great, you walked around the school talking about anything you or Cedric could think of. He did question you on why you had sent the letters anonymously and you told him the truth, you didn’t want to be embarrassed. He thought it was funny the way he found out and you though to.   

    ☼-☪-☼

   a month later (bonus stuff)

   you were wearing a yellow sweater with black sleeves and collar, a short denim overall dress over that and black leggings with matching black boots as you tapped your fingers against the wood of Cedric’s chest at the foot of his bed. You were waiting for your now boyfriend to come back from the shower.

   Cedric had been at quidditch practice all afternoon and you knew he went to wash up right after, so it was the waiting game now. What you didn’t expect was what would happen next. The door suddenly opened to reveal Cedric with damp hair and only wearing a towel around his waist.

   you yelp and cover your eyes with both of your hands instantly “Cedric! What the hell!?” you shout. Cedric gives you a weird look all though you couldn’t see it “Your in my dorm! I didn’t think you be in here!” he shouts back, you can hear shuffling of clothes and his walking.

   “Did you walk through the common room like that?! What if somebody saw you!?” you exclaim. You didn’t want prying eyes on him in such a state since you knew almost everyone in your house and others hand the biggest crush on him. The thought made you frown knowing full well he could have anyone he wanted.

   you feel his large hand over yours as he pulls them from your face, his brown eyes studying your expression like always “Who cares if anyone saw?” he questions, your face not changing “Because everyone likes you, what if someone more good looking than me saw you and- eh”

   you look away from him. Cedric exhaled and let go of one of your hands to gently force your chin towards him so you were looking at him once again. “I don’t really care about anyone else Y/n. I’m your boyfriend aren’t i?” he asked, tilting his head with an amused smile. You nod slowly “Yeah” 

   “Y/n i fell for you the first time i read your letters, don’t doubt yourself because your the only girl who has ever caught my attention” Cedric smiles and leans up since he was crouching in front of you to kiss your lips gently. It was like he was sealing his statement with the kiss. 

   you smile against his lips. He pulls away after a couple seconds with a smug smirk “Now my secret admirer, want to cuddle?”

   “I’m never getting over that am i?”

   “Nope, now in the bed”

    ☼-☪-☼

   Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @pxroxide-prinxcesss 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: this is shi for how long it took me lmao. Anyway, requests and taglist are open so like- yeahhh.

[comfortwriting]

Never Alone - The Marauders

Masterlist, Posting Schedule, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts, navigation

The Marauders x Fem Reader x Marlene McKinnon

A/N: As someone who was bullied in highschool for my sexuality and slandered by members of my family, this was somewhat therapeutic yet hard for me to write as I’ve never spoken about it. If you need a helpline, etc please scroll to the bottom of my navigation <3

Requested/About: The reader is dating Marlene McKinnon, once their relationship is made public, other students decide to be openly homophobic towards her. Her cousin, Sirius Black and his best friend James Potter find out, going after the students and comforting her. 

Warnings: Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Mention of conversion, Swearing.

“Are you sure you want to, you know, go public?” Your girlfriend Marlene asked.

You felt your heart speed up, sweat already forming in your palms, you sighed.

“Yeah... just give me one more day” you swallowed hard and looked into her starry eyes “I’m tired of hiding who I am, I’m tired of hiding us - but I’m scared.”

Marlene smiled sympathetically from ear to ear, talking your hand in hers.

“It’s never going to be easy, Y/N, but we’ve got each other and that’s all that matters”

You nodded again and held onto her hand tighter, squeezing it as you often did when you were nervous.

Sharing a kiss, the two of you stood up and walked across the school grounds.

Before you could reach the doors to be engulfed by the delicious mouth watering meals, you heard foot steps behind you.

Two boys in the year above you in Raven Claw had closed in on you, they were glaring but the corners of their lips curled up slightly.

“I never would’ve thought Marlene was a dyke—“

“Leave her alone!” You hissed and the taller student, pushing yourself in front of your girlfriend to shield her.

The two boys shared a glance and started laughing.

“You’d think that being a witch you would fix yourself, make yourself normal.” The other boy spat at you.

Your throat went dry and started to feel tight, boiling blood flowed through your veins and you felt like you could throw up or faint, you wanted to scream, to say something back but you couldn’t.

Tears filled your eyes and your vision went glassy, every noise around you turned into muffled nonsense, you were trapped in a vice with your own thoughts and the disgusting comments from other people, torturing yourself and toying with your mind.

Why can’t I be normal?

Am I disgusting?

What are my family going to think?

Sirius won’t be able to look at me

Whilst drowning in your thoughts, Marlene pushed herself out of your shielding and stood up to the other students, arguing back, yelling and getting out her wand.

“You talk a lot boys, why don’t we settle this another way?”

But Marlene wasn’t as good as she thought, the two boys simply laughed at her, disarmed her and walked away, threatening to spill the truth to whole of Hogwarts.

“Y/N?” Your girlfriend called out softly “Y/N”

Blinking away the tears, you slipped out from your vice and felt as if you had been thrusted back into reality.

You looked up at Marlene and felt ashamed for not doing something.

“Marlene, I’m sorry, I love you.”

She shushed you softly “hey, it’s okay.” Her fingers traced your scalp, holding you in her arms “I love you too... let’s just get ourselves sorted out and head off for dinner.”

Wiping away your tears with your sleeve, the two of you walked into the great hall.

You cousin Sirius waved and ushered you to come over to sit with him and his friends.

James Potter and Lily were away with the fairies, giggling.

Remus Lupin looked a lot better than the previous week and the scratches on his face were starting to heal nicely.

You sat next in between your cousin and Girlfriend. Staring at your plate, too scared to say anything incase the boys had already blabbed to them.

“Well, aren’t you going to eat something?” Sirius asked, taking a sip from his goblet.

You nodded “right, yeah” and stabbed some turkey, piercing it with your fork and stuffing it into your mouth.

“You aren’t usually this quiet” James butted in as Lily left to go to the toilet.

Marlene gave James a sad look and started to eat, hoping the subject could be dropped.

“He’s right, Y/N.” Remus said softly “is everything okay?”

You could hear the intrusive thoughts and comments rise in your head again, the vice getting tighter.

You put your head in your hands and started to cry, you wanted to stand up and run but you were too afraid, you were terrified people would make a big deal and would end up finding out the truth.

“Nothing is okay” you wailed.

Sirius wrapped his arm around you and bent his head next to your ear.

“Can you just try your best to explain what’s happened?”

You shook your head even more and continued to cry, wanting to throw up the food you had worked so hard to chew down and swallow.

Marlene sighed and asked Sirius to come over, Sirius got out of his seat and crouched next to Marlene.

Marlene looked at you, the two of you making eye contact, emotions spinning in the air, your hearts running a marathon, this was it - you couldn’t hide anymore.

“Please can I tell him?” Your girlfriends eyes were pleading more than they ever had in their life.

You nodded and cried even more, holding onto her hand for support.

Marlene let out a shaky breath and looked into your cousins deep eyes “me and Y/N, we’ve been together for awhile now and it’s been kept secret but” she sighed again, her voice wobbling “two boys from Raven Claw spotted us and—“

“They think it’s okay to just toss out a homophobic slur like it means nothing, they think it’s a choice and that magic will make me normal” you wailed, too scared to look your cousin and his friends in the eyes.

James’s eyes widened and Lupin looked horrified, he stood up and walked over to your side of the table.

Sirius had never been so infuriated in his life, his veins were bulging out of his skull, his eyes burning with fury, his teeth gritted.

“Who” he growled.

Marlene looked across at the Raven Claw table and pointed at the two lads who were whispering to one another, grimacing and laughing.

Sirius stood up with his hands balled into fists “James—“

“You don’t need to tell me even once.” His best friend replied, pushing back his glasses.

Lupin pulled you into his arms, Marlene still holding your hand.

“I don’t want them to get in trouble—“

“They can’t get away with this, Y/N” Lupin replied softly “it’s bang out of order.”

Sirius stormed over to the Raven Claw table with James, both of them focussing on one lad each. In synch, they pulled the lads up by the back of their collars, dragging them out of their seats.

“Think you’d get away with it, did you?” Sirius seethed.

The lad stood up and stared Sirius down “want to take this outside?”

Sirius didn’t budge, James still holding back the other student.

“Don’t see why I would” Sirius spat “Homophobes don’t deserve to kept in the dark - protected. You disgusting scum bags shouldn’t be allowed here at Hogwarts!”

“And you expect your cousin to be accepted for who she is?”

The professors got up from their tables and hurried over to the unfolding scene, you could hear the rising in whispers and chatter from the other tables around you.

“It’s going to be okay” your girlfriend reassured you.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of” Lupin said softly “you’re perfect the way you are.”

Dumbledore glided over, staring at James and holding Sirius back from launching at the boy. He knew what James and Sirius were mischievous, yet good natured and kind hearted - he knew the was a reason behind this outburst of rage.

“Can the four of you make your way to my office”

James let go of the other student and followed behind Dumbledore.

“Only if you make that dyke normal—“

Sirius turned around and socked the student in the face, causing him to fall on the floor with a bloody nose.

You hid your face into the crook of Lupin’s neck, everyone now knowing your secret.

“Everyone get out!” Dumbledore yelled, everyone instantly leaving the hall in a hurry.

Dumbledore flashed Lupin a look and nodded.

The three of you were sat in the empty great hall for what felt like hours, your stomach doing flips and you couldn’t stop shaking, Lupin and your girlfriend constantly reassuring you and trying to cheer you up.

Sirius and James walked back into the hall, Sirius ran over to you and picked you up into his arms, the two of you crying.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You shook your head “no but I will be.”

“You don’t ever be ashamed of who you are” Sirius cried “it doesn’t make you any less of the person you are, we all still love you.”

“Are you okay, what happened, I—“

“Those two pricks have been expelled, they’re packing immediately” James smirked, rubbing your back.

You felt part of the weight on your chest had been lifted, James engulfed you into a hug while Sirius talked to your girlfriend, thanking her for being there for you and for treating you nothing short of perfect.

Dumbledore called out your name, asking to speak to you in his office.

James and Sirius smiled and nodded towards Dumbledore, you swallowed another forming lump down your throat and followed your head teacher.

Sitting down in his large and warm office, your eyes were glued to the gorgeous Phoenix sat in-front of you, batting its eyes at you.

“Sirius isn’t in trouble is he?”

“Not at all.” Dumbledore replied “Y/N, I want you to know, you will always be accepted here at Hogwarts and we won’t stand for Homophobia or discrimination of any sort.”

You let out a sigh of relief and nodded, thanking him, not knowing where to look you continued to stare at the Phoenix.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are but I can understand it takes time, it took me awhile too.” Dumbledore smiled softly.

You looked through his half moon spectacles and into his eyes.

He nodded his head, and held out his hand for you to hold.

“You are never alone, Y/N.” His eyes filled with tears, the two of you finally feeling free.

[madame-mimsy]

Theory Behind the Reward Tier Levels in Janus’ Corridor.

Has someone done this, already? Probably. But nothing says mental exhaustion like procrastinating on schoolwork by over analyzing the levels of tiers in Janus’ Corridor of Stored Rewards.

So with the release of the amazing art by James von Hollen (@ignoreitforever on Instagram) of each of the tiers (and the honestly delightfully terrifying images of Janus ripping through a wall like the Shining), I’ve had some thoughts on what the levels mean in relation to them because I am a Fander and we cannot leave well enough alone gdi.

See, at first I liked the idea going around that Janus was just giving tiers based on people he liked, as he’s stated that he prefers Remus over the others in livestreams. But the thing is, he obviously does NOT like Virgil, so that doesn’t quite fit to me. And the idea that it’s just giving preferential treatment to the Dark Sides made sense to me, until the new images came out and we had padlocks galore.

Instead, my theory is that each tier is based on how deep into the secrets he’s promised in his Corridor you go. The further along the more he WANTS to keep them secret, and thus the more money it takes, meta-wise, to pry those secrets loose, and why there is no Janus level tier. There’s no way he’d want to reveal everything he knows, no matter the amount. He (Janus) even got downright angry when people tried bugging him for spoilers in streams.

So instead he has the tiers listed by how willing he is to make that Side “public” or not. (Longwinded theory under the cut)

So first we have the Logan tier: the Federal Education Budget 

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From the Snake’s Own Mouth:

“Ohhh, so you decided to share with us? Then, I suppose I can share with you.”

Honestly, this startled me because of the fact that it looks so arcane and mystical, which doesn’t match how I imagine Logan at all. My friend @onnastik​ pointed out that the creature on the right, surrounded by sigils, is the demon Baur, who among other things is said to “teach natural and moral philosophy, (and) logic...” which fits the bill pretty perfectly. 

Speaking of a bill, the name for the tier fits Logan perfectly, too, to me. The Federal Education Budget is not only the budget used in the American system to make sure kids have free education until the highschool level, but is also part of the college loan system. It signifies public education, and that’s why I feel that Logan is the lowest, and thus most accessible, tier. Janus considers him bland, safe for public consumption, and maybe even wants to put up a front of logical intelligence first and foremost, to make even the broadest view of Thomas seem as intelligent as possible. 

And look at how much the basic tier gives! That’s a huge amount for just the lowest tier, and gives you plenty to enjoy. That fits the ideal of something like a broad education system, and gives a very open feel. Logan’s tier is literally an “Open Book” of all sorts of delights.

And with that horrible pun, we move to Patton’s tier:  The Monthly Allowance.

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“That not enough for you? Fine. I'll give you everything from that last tier, PLUS...”

For all that it is creepy as heck, the fact that Patton’s tier is also a pun is perfect. The candles heat must surely make this... heartwarming. And the addition of blooper reels in the rewards, and the commentary, feel more personal than Logan’s open tier. Which is why I don’t think Patton was the first tier.

Patton wears his heart on his sleeve too much for Janus’ tastes, I bet. All of those emotions just out there where anyone could see? Those bloopers that showcase how imperfect Thomas and the crew are? Yikes. That is definitely something a certain snek wouldn’t want to be the most public option, though, at the same time, Patton’s gentle qualities and general love of the fandom also mean he’s a good symbol to push closer to the front of the Corridor, and doesn’t need to be as hidden as some of the others.

Also the fact that Patton’s tier has a sticker as a reward is absolutely perfect and you can’t tell me otherwise. Can’t you just imagine him going “Thank you so much, kiddo! Let’s watch some bloopers and play with sticker books! I’ll get the cocoa”? He’s the good goofy dad and stickers are fun. Bloopers and being silly are fun. It’s perfect for the sweet lad.

Then we have the illustrious Roman’s tier: A Prince’s Ransom.

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From the Snake’s Own Mouth:

“You want more? Really?? … You can only half tell, but I’m blushing over the fact that we’re worth this much to you. How about, everything in that last tier AND...”

Hooo boi there’s suddenly a lot more to unpack here. This is in no way an insult to the lovely Crew as a whole, but doesn’t it feel like this tier has more bribery going on than the last two? More self-centered reasons to join? It’s not just your name in the credits like Patton offered: it’s your name as a writer. That T-shirt (which I 100% leaped at when I saw this because holy heck it’s so pretty), and of course the mysterious Writer’s Room.

This tier feels very creative as well: look at all the stuff about influencing the show, the art of the shirt, etc. This is all about being showy and creative like our wonderful prince. But it’s not the first tier, even though Thomas is very much a creator. Why? Why is the tier for the showiest, flashiest Side just randomly tucked in the middle, not even the highest for show?

Because Janus doesn’t want Roman to be the first thing everyone sees. Our sweet boy is definitely eye-catching, but he can also be vain to the point of pompous, even annoying. And his fragile ego isn’t something that Janus likely wants to show off. Janus’ statement about “blushing” and “being worth that much to you” even feels like it matches that pride and ego. 

And that fragility is in the crown’s design, too. At first glance it seems fine. Very fantastic, with Roman’s sun symbol in lovely display. But a longer look reveals cracks, broken sections and fissures. And a slight, odd green shine, too. Hmm.

No, Roman couldn’t be made the first tier because of his pride, but his is also the last tier to not have any outright locks on it...

The Strange Dark Son’s tier: OK, Now You’re Making Me Feel Guilty...

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From the Snake’s Own Mouth:

“PLEASE, don’t give us any more money! I don’t know what we could possibly do with it! But alright… since I like you, you can have everything in the last tier, and I'LL THROW IN...”

“Now you’re making me feel guilty” is absolutely what I would expect Virgil to think about someone giving him money because they enjoyed Thomas’ content. He’d freak out, and want to make sure to do something equally nice in return, to say thank you. Hence the thank-you video. 

NGL I can also imagine him panicking and rushing around his room to pick up a random mug and just thrust it out at the gifter in return too, before hiding away in an anxious mess, but anyway. xD

The artwork for this seems to very much be in homage to the Annabelle Doll: a supposedly haunted ragdoll, kept locked in a case at an occult museum.

Something interesting about this doll’s story, though...

Wiki: “According to the Warrens, a student nurse was given the doll in 1970. They said that the doll behaved strangely, and that a psychic medium told the student that the doll was inhabited by the spirit of a deceased girl named "Annabelle". The student and her roommate tried to accept and nurture the spirit-possessed doll, but the doll reportedly exhibited malicious and frightening behavior.”

Huh. Who else do we know that when confronted with too much coddling responds by lashing out?

And this is the first tier with a lock. The glass is chipped (from inside or out?) but the lock is holding. The doll is inert and doesn’t seem likely to do anything unless disturbed, if it matches the original story. Which seems to fit Virgil relatively well. Sure, he’ll make you anxious (maybe those cracks are where the influence leeches free), but doesn’t seem intent on outright harm. Also the cracks and the creepy living doll cabinet as a whole made me think of spider webs and our boi’s Halloween decor, so I thought that was excellent, honestly.

This tier is hidden behind Roman’s shining pomp. It’s outright locked away, as if to keep it from seeing the light of day. The Dark Side tiers both seem this way: hidden from prying eyes by the splendor of the first few tiers.

And the most hidden one of all... Gross Profit.

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From the Snake’s Own Mouth:

“Oh you bougie rascal, you! Your generosity is seen and I truly thank you for it… but a few kind words from me aren't enough, I'm sure... so how about, you get everything from the last tier ALONG WITH...”

Firstly we have exclusive tier level gifts that Janus won’t even reveal. Meta-wise, this is likely more because the team has to decide what those gifts ARE, and how to safely ship them, but the way it sounds in the description not only feels super secretive, but also very much like Remus to me, as well. I’m pretty sure any and all gifts from him are a surprise in some way. Whether that is pleasant is debatable, but it’s still a surprise!

The highest tier also looks to have the highest security. Look at that sturdy, metal bound chest and huge padlock. Not only that but it also has chains wrapped around it to hold it shut, and even then, the contents are actively seeking to escape, like our delightful trashman would. Even the shuggoth-like appearance matches his presence as a shifting, terrifying and likely quite gloopy entity, capable of squeezing even where he’s not wanted.  Even the green fabric below looks stained with mud or blood or something equally as upsetting. The image does a great job of showing how hard it is to contain Intrusive Thoughts, as a whole, and is likely a main reason Janus drinks so much “juice” on his birthdays. 

Unlike the last image, this one is outright trying to break containment, and oddly, it almost seems like someone left a golden key in easy reach for just that purpose... A key which also looks rather oddly shaped, to me.

It’s hard to tell from the angle, but it doesn’t look like the eye is a simple circle, but that it has a point, like a heart almost. Or even the ornate letter D from the Corridor logo?

I can’t be sure of that, but what I can definitely be sure of is the sheer amount of lock, key, and chain symbolism our Snekky Fren has to his name.

While Janus has no tier, the entire SITE has his symbol, like a brand. 

Every post, the icon, the about page, it’s there. And the snake isn’t trapped by the lock, but guarding it. It looks to have a green highlight around where a chip is (hmm), but other than that, it looks quite solid, and well-guarded by watchful creatures that never blink.

The shape of the lock looks like it could be heart-shaped as well, like that golden key allowing the Remus tentacles to wriggle free.

They also do a heckin blep and honestly what could possibly be better? 

So yeah, that’s my way overly long ramble about the tier levels and what I think they mean. Maybe if I’m not too lazy I’ll do one on the pictures of Janus playing peekaboo with my nightmares on the about page. 

God but this art is amazing and y’all need to go preesh the artist holy heck. 

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 10

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 3,100

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly, twice a week; will have about ?16? parts total.

---

Three long banquet tables took up the middle of the palace's dining hall. The middle table was reserved for the family and their close friends; the other tables were filled by guests of every sort. Each table was piled high with mountains of mouth-watering dishes; quail and fish; breads and pastries; olives and cheese. Gilded bowls of fresh fruit grown in the neighboring orchards and gardens were being served by dryads, and the satyrs went around with large jugs of wine, ensuring that no one's glass went unfilled.

Dynamene, now dressed in her finest golden peplos and her ceremonial coral wreath, made her way through the high-spirited crowd. After stopping to exchange bows and pleasantries with a faun she'd attended school with as a small child, she heard someone call her name. Turning around, she saw Thoe waving her over to a chair at the main table.

"Your seat's here next to me. You know, since we're seated in birth order," Thoe sighed as Dynamene took her chair. "I don't miss having to sit in order like this."

"What, don't like being reminded you're one of the youngest too?" Dynamene laughed.

"I am still nearly four centuries older than you, and don't you forget it!" Thoe protested, jabbing at her lightly.

"Well, since you're the second youngest of us thirteen here tonight, I suppose you're stuck next to me." Dynamene craned her head to look towards the front of the room. "Where are Mother and Father?"

"Ianeira said they'd be out any minute. Everyone else should be taking their seats soon..."

As if on cue, everyone still on their feet scrambled to their seats. The satyrs hurried to top up the last of the glasses before chugging down the remaining wine in the jugs for themselves. The eleven other Nereids present quickly made their way to the table, talking in excited whispers. "They're coming," Ianeira announced as she took her seat close to the head of the table.

Two figures appeared at the entrance at the front of the great hall, and the crowd's clamor dimmed to a murmur. Nereus and Doris, the esteemed father and mother of the Nereids, had made their appearance at last.

They were both tall and statuesque, though the similarities ended there. Nereus was an imposing man with a kind face, his smile largely hidden behind a vast beard that fell nearly halfway down his broad chest. He rose one hand in greeting to his guests, who called back their approval. "Greetings, my esteemed guests; my dearest of friends; and, of course, my beloved daughters. We are beyond honored to share our hospitality with you tonight."

Doris beamed at her daughters, her dark eyes crinkling warmly. Her long black hair fell in spirited waves and curls to her thighs, decorated on top with a coral hairpiece that matched theirs. "We are gathered here this evening to rejoice; thirteen of our beautiful daughters have returned home to celebrate Dynamene's coming-of-age. Please join us in filling this evening with merriment beyond heart's measure!" She rose her glass in a toast, and the rest of the hall joined her with cheer.

The opening speech given, the crowd returned to socializing. Doris and Nereus made their way to their gilded thrones at the head of the family table.

"More and more beautiful every year," Doris sighed contentedly, looking at her daughters with pride. "I am so glad to see you again, loves. It's so quiet here with you all away."

"I don't know about that; Nerites almost makes enough noise to make up for it," laughed Nereus merrily.

"That's not true!" Nerites protested from the other end of the table. He looked up from the kabob of roasted fish he was chewing. "I make more than enough noise."

The family erupted with laughter at his unexpectedly peeved retort. "I jest, Nerites," Nereus soothed. "You're the noisiest lad on the coast; I promise."

"Especially on days your father and I are trying to sleep in," Doris added smoothly, passing a plate of poached figs to her husband.

"Aye, and the days we're not trying to sleep in, too," Nereus whispered boldly, winking saucily at her. Dynamene nearly choked on her wine as her older sisters laughed at his raunchy remark. Doris threw a grape at him playfully.

"Mind your manners, or we'll be sleeping in separate suites entirely tonight, and it won't matter either way."

"Ah, just having a bit of a laugh, my love." Nereus brushed her hair back affectionately. "But your mother is right; it's not the same here with all of you girls gone. Too bad the rest couldn't come as well."

"I'm surprised Poseidon agreed to let thirteen of us come to begin with," Actaea said, swirling her wine thoughtfully.

"He does have business elsewhere, so he doesn't need all of us tending the palace as usual," Ianeira replied. "Honestly, though, he could have let all of us come and things wouldn't change at all. It's not like anyone else would be there to make a mess."

"Mm, quite right." Thoe took a dainty bite from a pear. "I'm sure he wants to keep the rest there just to prove he can. Another status symbol."

Dynamene stared at her plate. I'm sure he's not doing it just out of spite.

"Do you want something else to eat, Dynamene?" Doris asked. "I know lobster isn't your favorite. Do you want to try some quail?"

"Oh, no," Dynamene rushed, holding up her hands. "Just lost in thought. I've grown more fond of lobster lately, to be honest; especially with lime sauce."

Doris tutted fondly. "Finally getting a taste for shellfish; you really have come-of-age, haven't you?"

Ianeira watched quietly for a moment, then spoke up. "Mother, do you think I could speak to you in private later tonight?"

Doris looked up in concern. "Of course, dearest; is everything alright? Is it something we should speak about right away?"

"No, it's not urgent," Ianeira said. "Just something that's been worrying me." Her gaze lingered on Dynamene, who took notice, before quickly darting away.

Again with that strange air of secretiveness... But what does it mean? Dynamene pondered for a moment.

Oh, well. I suppose if it involves me, I'll find out sooner or later. She reached out to try a bit of quail. Lobster still really wasn't quite her favorite.

---

Some hours later, the feast had ended and the guests had dispersed. Dynamene had retired to take a soothing bath in the wide tub of the grand bath. Worn out from the long day, and stuffed to bursting with delicious food, it felt wonderful to let herself relax in the hot salt water. It wasn't long before she began to feel sleepy, and she knew it was time to head to bed.

Freshly bathed, and with her damp hair hanging loose, she put on a fresh chiton that smelled of the ocean outside. She felt so much more relaxed since they'd arrived at home. She left the bathroom and wandered down the dimly lit halls to her childhood bedroom. The gentle orange glow of the torches set a warm, soft light everywhere it touched. Her bare feet weren't cold against the ground here, unlike with the cold marble at Poseidon's palace. It would be nice to sleep in her old bed again tonight.

She was almost to her room when she heard quiet voices coming from Ianeira's room. She paused, remembering Ianeira's request to their mother. Surely she was hearing them talk about whatever it was that troubled Ianeira.

She hesitated outside the door. It wasn't right for her to eavesdrop, but when she remembered that had persisted since her sisters' meeting with Poseidon, she couldn't bring herself to walk away. Brushing her hair away from her ear, she leaned in to listen.

"...worried about her, lately. It wouldn't be a concern if you hadn't sent us to a place like that in the first place. I just don't understand. Why?"

Ianeira's tone was rather vulnerable, now that she was speaking in private with her mother. It took Dynamene by surprise; for so long, Ianeira had been the one guiding the rest of them, and now here she was herself seeking counsel with her mother.

"We sent you to Poseidon's palace to broaden your prospects," Doris answered firmly. "To give you opportunities you could never have here. Your father and I are rather ancient by the rest of the pantheon's standards, and our influence has already peaked long ago. It was our hope that, by sending you to serve Poseidon, that you might meet others, gain an education, and make your own way in the world."

"The tutors were top-class," Ianeira admitted. "But Poseidon himself is a geyser, just waiting to blow. Don't you remember what he did to Adamas? Ripped him in half without a second thought. We were there, serving him, when that happened, remember? We saw the body, Mother. I can still hear the screams some nights..."

"I think about it more than I ought to," Doris whispered. "And I am sorry that you had to witness it. It was an unspeakable act. But I don't believe for one second that he would ever harm any of you."

"It matters not what you believe! I don't want to risk that happening to Dynamene! If he was capable of doing that to his own brother on a whim, what would he do to her?" Ianeira cried.

Doris sighed. "Your father and I have always had faith that Poseidon would never lay a hand on any of you. All fifty of you are clever and resourceful; we know you would never tempt fate with him. And he would never tempt fate with you."

Ianeira laughed humorlessly. "Tempt fate? Oh, Mother, if only you knew."

"I don't understand, Ianeira. Why are you afraid for Dynamene? What do you fear Poseidon is going to do?"

"It's more about what Dynamene might do at the moment, Mother," Ianeira said, her voice defeated. "You see... Dynamene is infatuated with Poseidon."

 One could have heard a pin drop. Dynamene clapped her hand over her mouth, hiding her gasp of shock. How long had they known about her feelings for Poseidon?

"...She has always been a passionate girl," Doris murmured. "Always a bit of a romantic. But, I suppose, this really isn't so surprising of a development. Of the fifty of you, one of you was bound to become enamored with him."

"I'm worried for her, Mother," Ianeira whispered. "She's still so young; she's still a child in so many ways. I don't know what to do."

"Dynamene is at that strange stage where she has the desires of a woman, but the reasoning of a child. She is inexperienced. It will just take time; she will grow and learn."

"But that's what I'm worried about, Mother!" Ianeira pleaded. "She's already so infatuated with him, and this is Poseidon! If, in time, she really does fall in love with him, and he lays claim to her - what can we do to protect her from him? She'll become his consort, and then..."

"Dynamene is still too young to truly know romantic love. I assure you, dearest, what Dynamene feels right now is just a passing fancy. Poseidon is a powerful god, and he is handsome; I would be more surprised if she did not develop an attraction to him. But Poseidon is infamously cold and stoic. Nothing will come of it, you have my word."

That stung. Dynamene winced, her face flushing with humiliation. It was uncomfortably jarring to hear her family speak candidly about her innermost feelings this way.

"I don't want to risk that! Dynamene is around him all the time, as we all are, serving him at the palace. Please, just request that Dynamene remain home longer, even if only for a year. If it's truly a mere crush, then her feelings for him should fizzle out by then."

What? The gears in Dynamene's mind began to turn rapidly. Ianeira was asking Doris to keep her here even longer...

Almost as if the whole point of the trip had been to get her away from Poseidon.

Dynamene swallowed hard, feeling a surge of angry betrayal wash over her. Her clenched fists had begun to shake. She resisted the urge to barge in; they were still speaking, and she wanted to listen until the end.

Doris was quiet. "I will consider it. But the thirteen of you have only just got here today; it could very well be the case that, by the time the month is up, Dynamene's attention will be on someone else."

Dynamene heard Ianeira exhale. "Thank you, Mother. I just... I just want her to be safe."

"I understand, my child," Doris comforted her. "But have faith; everything will turn out just fine."

Dynamene couldn't stand to listen to anymore. She ran to her room and slammed the door shut, angry tears forming in her eyes.

They had known. They had known this entire time how she felt. And now, instead of supporting her, or even just hearing her out about her feelings, they were trying to keep the two of them apart. Her sisters, the people she trusted most in the whole world, had betrayed her trust.

Any joy she'd felt from their homecoming dispersed within her chest, replaced by the hot, prickling sensation of rage. How could they do this? She wasn't only angry at them; she was angry at herself, too. How could I have been so blind?  She asked herself angrily. Of course they'd never accept my feelings for Poseidon. If one thing's clear now, it's that they hate him. They've never spoken to him the way I have. They've no idea.

I never wanted to stay here for a month from the start, let alone a year. By the time we go back to the palace, the council of the gods will have taken place, and Hera will have done her best to force someone else upon Poseidon. I won't let that happen. I'll do whatever it takes to go back before then.

A gentle rap on her shut door broke her out of her angry reverie. She didn't bother to check who it was before shouting, "Go away!"

But of course, the door opened anyway, revealing the last person she wanted to see: Ianeira.

"Leave me alone," Dynamene snapped at her.

Ianeira stared at her in shock. "What's gotten into you? I just came to check on you. Is something the matter?"

Perhaps now wasn't the right time to break out into a fury. Dynamene unclenched her jaw and took a breath. "No, I'm sorry for snapping. I just have a headache."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ianeira said, coming to sit next to her. She reached out to stroke her sister's hair, but Dynamene pulled away.

"Well, I'll keep things brief then," Ianeira started over. "We had a good time today, didn't we?"

"Yes," Dynamene muttered as she looked away. It was going great until now.

"I know how refreshing it is to be here at home. It's where we belong, really, although with how much time we've spent at Poseidon's palace, it can be hard to remember."

Dynamene was silent, knowing where her sister's words were leading to and loathing it. Ianeira carefully ventured onwards. "So... How would you like to take the year off and stay here, at home?"

Dynamene looked at Ianeira with loathing in her eyes. "So you can keep me away from Poseidon a little longer?"

Ianeira's mouth fell open, but no words came out.

Dynamene jumped to her feet, unable to rein in her rage any longer. "You can't even deny it, can you?! That this whole trip was a ruse to get me away from him! Is that the real reason why you left me out of the audience?"

"Why... How on earth could you possibly know that?" Ianeira shot back, standing up.

"I have a predisposition to eavesdropping, I guess," Dynamene clenched her fists. "I heard what you were saying to Mother. How dare you decide what's best for me like that?! You haven't even asked me about any of it!"

"About what? Your infatuation with a madman?!" Ianeira yelled back. Her eyes were snapping with long-repressed frustration and anger, and Dynamene couldn't help but shirk back. "You think I haven't lost sleep, worrying about this? And now you want me to compromise with you over it?!"

"How dare you say that!" Angry tears threatened to overflow from Dynamene's eyes. "I don't need you deciding what's right for me! I've already made up my mind; I want to stay with him! I want to be with him!"

"Be with him?! Are you insane, Dynamene?!" Ianeira threw her arms up in disbelief. "You want to be with the man who tore his own brother apart without a second glance? Is that the same fate you want, once he decides you too don't meet his standards?!"

"He would never do that to me!" Dynamene cried, clutching her bracelet. "He wouldn't! Even when he caught me spying, he-"

"He what?" Ianeira's voice went deadly quiet. "You did what?"

"I..." Dynamene knew she had made a mistake, and she looked down.

"You spied on him? Why?! Are you even thinking?! If Mother and Father knew-"

"I had to know what he was talking about with Hera! I don't want him to be with anyone else; I love him! I love him!" Dynamene's voice cut off as she began to sob with abandon. "Please, don't tell them! They'll never let me-"

"How could you say you love him?! He has no heart! He cares for no one, not even us!" Ianeira hurled. Her hair was steaming with rage. "You're not even thinking, taking risks like that! There's no way you're returning to that palace! You're still a child; Poseidon will ruin you! I won't let him do that to you; not you, or any of my sisters!" Her shouts echoed in the small room.

"You can't stop me!" Something within Dynamene had snapped. "I'm not a child anymore, and you don't control me!" She threw open the windows and let the night wind pour in, billowing about her. The black seawater swirled many feet below.

"Wait, Dynamene, don't!" Ianeira cried out, reaching for her.

Dynamene dove headfirst out the window without a second glance. She plunged into the cold ocean water below, the thin fabric of her chiton swirling about her.

I won't sit by and let others decide my life for me! They could never know how I feel. They won't even try to understand. Tears drifted from her eyes, leaving a trail of bubbles in her wake. That's just fine. I'll take things into my own hands. I'll find a way; I will.

Dynamene let her body disperse into the water, swimming away as fast as she could into the dark waters of the night.

---

Author’s Notes: This part has taken me the longest thus far now. I gave myself time to recharge before finishing it because I wanted the emotions to be strong. Can't do that if I'm suffering writer fatigue. I watched part of The Little Mermaid and felt ready to continue. Here we are!

Can you blame Dynamene, Ianeira? Have you LOOKED at Poseidon, I mean REALLY LOOKED? Man's got the looks of an angel. Too bad his personality doesn't match.

The parts now have names (on ao3)! We're at part 10 now; I thought names might help tell them apart. No spoilers in them, but descriptive enough that people who have already read them will hopefully be able to tell which is which.

Nereid birth order:

Ianeira - 1

Actaea - 6

Callianassa - 23

Eione - 27

Thoe - 41

Dynamene - 50

[lovelylou]

since 2020 is almost over, i thought i’d share (some of) my favorite fics that made my 2020 a lot better.

[note: not all of these fics were written/published in 2020, although most of them are, there are some that are older, but that i’ve read or re-read this year]

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tastes like summer, smiles like may by outropeace

“Is this true?” Harry grabbed the beta by the shoulders. “Bryce, where did you hear that?”

“There’s rumors going around the castle,” he smirked. “stories about his beauty and his cold attitude. They know he is an omega only because of his scent, but he has never had a heat.”

“Do you know what this means?”

Bryce smirk grew into a big smile. “He can’t give you an heir.”

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

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But It's Useless by thinlines

“Hey.”

Louis was even hallucinating now. He closed his eyes.

“Hey, you.”

He chuckled wetly, head still leaning against the door.

“Can you get out of the way? You're blocking the door.”

He exhaled sharply before slowly turning around. His eyes fixed onto muddy Nike trainers before it traveled up to impossibly short jogging shorts. The yellow color was atrocious, simply ghastly.

“What happened to being polite, Harold?”

OR Omega Louis would never guess that he would be trying to hack into Alpha Harry's Wifi. That is until everything changes when he tries to get to know his enemy.

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haunted by the ghost of you by missandrogyny

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

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On the Edge by zanni_scaramouche

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane.

Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes.

A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

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even the best laid plans by falsegoodnight

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

-

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

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The Compulsion to Find Love by Toomanytears

The most prestigious English third-level institution, Candling University, accepts omega students for the first time and Louis Tomlinson applies with bright eyes and brighter ambitions. There he encounters personal obstacles, traditional mindsets and a beautiful boy who inverts every prejudice Louis has ever known.

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Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

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UN(RE)SO LVED. by daddyharrie

The ghoul boys are back, but this time around there are some unresolved feelings involved. Harry is a skeptic, Louis is not. Watch them go on their ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?

Or, BuzzFeed Unsolved AU.

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Hate to Smoke (Without Me) by louhazpride

“For fuck’s sake,” he huffs, grabbing the pillow and pulling it on top of his head in an attempt to block out the banging coming from the other side of the wall.

It’s the third time this week that his neighbour has woken him up in the middle of the night with his little ‘rendezvous.’ Honestly, he's quite sick of it. There’s only so much sex he can bear to hear in one week and he has already hit his limit. If he wanted to listen to someone having sex, he’d turn to porn.

As if the noises weren’t enough, Harry immediately becomes aware of the faint aroma of weed filling his flat.

“I’m going to murder him.”

Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

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Three Days in February by writing_practice

“We have to get out of here, outside,” Harry whispered, turning his hand in Louis’s grip to hold on and pull them both to their feet.

“And how do we fucking do that?” Louis hissed, carefully rising and pulling Harry to his feet before Harry could do it. His gaze darted to the front then back of the arena. “None of the doors are where they’re supposed to be.”

“What?” Harry looked around again too, couldn’t see any doors, only knew that they must be there, somewhere. “How do you know?”

Confusion slid over Louis's features.

“Because we’ve been here before, Haz. It’s the O2.”

The show. It must be the first night of their tour. They were too late; they were out of time.

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a lot of Harry and Louis alone together, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

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Coming Up For Air by stylinsoncity

It's a long plane ride to LA but sitting beside Harry makes time fly.

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I'd Give Up Everything Just Ask Me To by Rearviewdreamer

They don't usually exchange Christmas gifts, but this year is different. This year, Louis knows exactly what he wants to put under the tree to make his boyfriend smile. He just doesn't know how he's going to get it.

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bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

-

Alternatively titled 'the peach fic.'

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Sometimes You Just Know by 2tiedships2

“Dear diary. Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why...”

“What are you doing?” Louis mumbled as he bit into a piece of toast.

“It’s been almost two years and today Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson reunite. Louis is very excited about…”

Louis’ chair screeched along the kitchen floor as he flew up out of his seat, quickly grabbing the paper from Niall’s grasp. As he scanned the page he found it amounted to lines of nothing.

“What is this?” Louis asked again. “We’ve discussed how Harry Styles will never be spoken of in this flat. I don’t care how long it’s been.”

Niall snatched the paper from Louis and proceeded to draw a line across the page before writing.

“Today is the day that he-who-shall-not-be-named is coming to dinner.”

Or the one where Harry and Louis don’t believe in soulmates… until they do.

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eyes off you by soldouthaz

“Just promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to keep us all safe while we’re in there,” Liam says.

Through the crack in the door, Louis can just barely make out the broad curve of Harry’s back, the slope of his curls as they tumble down all sleep-soft and lazy, and the sharp twist of his arm - all leading down to where he’s got his pointer and middle finger crossed over each other behind his back.

“I promise,” he tells Liam firmly, “I promise.”

--

or; a charlie’s angels inspired fic where louis is the brains, harry is the charm, liam is the muscle, and niall drives the getaway car - and zayn is there, too. sometimes.

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Welcome to The Rivalry by 2tiedships2

“Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?”

Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?”

Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?”

“Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?”

As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again.

Or a reverse You’ve Got Mail au inspired by the Ohio State/Michigan rivalry. Featuring duplex neighbors, (kind of) enemies to lovers, and an anonymous Twitter feud between omega Louis and alpha Harry.

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Cold Little Heart by seducedbycurls

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham

Louis really could use the help.

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[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Harry and Y/N hook up in Y/N’s childhood bedroom

This is part of @berrynarrybanana​‘s Sex Bucket List Fic Challenge! My prompt was “childhood bedroom” and YOU KNOW I got excited as fuck about this. Big thanks to Casey for setting this all up! Enjoy!!! a little baby blurb with 1.5k wc!

It wasn’t bringing him home that made you nervous. No--in fact, your mom would love him and your dad would be thrilled to meet the man your sister had been teasing you about for the last six months. She loved to say anything to make you blush and roll your eyes, pulling questions from aunts and uncles at any family gathering.

It started as something super casual, which was always the go to line of defense when she brought it up. A few mutual friends, a bar on the Sunset Strip and a few rooftop bellinis. But texting your sister a sneaky side profile pic of the newest celebrity that had wandered his way into your circle was by far the biggest mistake you could make. 

You never thought that one day he’d wind up sitting across from her at the dining room table, your face going red from the stories she told about the first time you got too drunk, the black eye you got from volleyball in 10th grade, the stupid things you’d said after your wisdom teeth surgery.

You never thought that exchanging numbers and a few texts about the loaded nachos you’d drunkenly shared would lead you here: the hallway outside your childhood bedroom, with a thumping in your chest that had beads of sweat forming on your hairline.

Your sister wasn’t the only thing you weren’t ready to face that night. 

“It can’t be that bad,” he said behind you, his voice quiet so as to not give away the stealth mission of sneaking his duffle bag into your room. 

The guest room is very nice, Harry, your mom had smiled that night in the kitchen over a glass of merlot. I’m sure you’ll find it quite comfortable. 

You weren’t shocked. You’d never had a boyfriend sleep over, but your sister had. She’d been sneaking her boyfriend of four years down the hall in the early morning of the hours for a while, ruffling the blankets and pillows in the guest room to make it look like he’d spent the night in there. 

So fine, not only was it embarrassing that at 23 your parents were still treating you like a teenager, but the fact that the boy you somehow managed to bring home was Harry Styles made this feel even more humiliating. And you hadn’t even opened the door yet. 

You’d warned him, sort of. You told him that they’d want you to sleep in separate rooms, and you warned that the last time your childhood bedroom had been updated was when you started high school. He didn’t seem to understand what that meant.

You pushed the door open and held your breath, stepped inside and let your eyes sweep the room, the light purple walls weren’t as harsh in the evening, but the posters stared back at you with daunting eyes. 

You turned around to gauge his reaction, the corner of his mouth had pulled up slightly, his lips pressed into a thin line when you met his gaze. 

“Shut up!” You groaned, twisting your face when he dropped his bag on the ground. 

“I think it’s endearing,” he said, the smug smirk grew into a full blown smile. “I mean, Bieber Fever is a thing, right? He was irresistible back then.”

You reached a hand forward and smacked him across the chest, moving around the side of the room to pull the shade down. “I was fifteen when they let me redecorate, okay? You should have seen the butterflies on the wall before that.”

He let out a quiet laugh, unzipped the bag and tugged out a pair of athletic shorts and you shut the door. Your parents had long slipped upstairs to bed, your sister and her boyfriend were likely still in the living room, but your secret was safe with them. “So you’ve got a type, then.” 

“Hmm?” You eyed him, heading for the closet to find pajamas. 

“Two handsome lads with voices that sound like absolute honey,” he pointed at the poster that hung near the window, the expression on his face was serious, but it broke into a smile when you blinked back at him.

“The guest room is quite comfortable,” you threatened, using your mother’s words from earlier to let him know you meant business. 

“Baby,” he took a step towards you and opened his arms. “I mean it, it’s fine, I’m just messing with you.”

“Well it’s not funny,” you pouted. “Imagine the horror when my mom said they wanted to meet you. And I knew I had to bring you here.”

“To the shrine?” He couldn’t help himself, but when you let out a groan of displeasure, he came even closer, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Alright,” he laughed. “I’m done, that’s it.”

“I swear to God,” you looked up at him, tugging out of his grasp. “I’ll tell them you snuck in here and wouldn’t leave. They’ll never make you shrimp scampi again.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” he nodded, held his hands up as he backed away and returned to unpacking. He left it there for while, brushed his teeth beside you in the bathroom down the hall and climbed into the floral sheets once you’d switched the light off. 

You stared up at the ceiling and ignored the nervousness that bristled down your spine. If the internal monologue that typically graced the nights you spent together wasn’t enough (why is he into me in the first place? How did I land someone as funny and loving and talented as him?), the added layer of the posters and the yearbooks strewn across your desk made it nearly impossible to fall asleep. Surely he’d realize that you were just another normal girl, too boring and ordinary to keep up with a life like his.

He turned towards you suddenly, rolled onto his side to get a better look at you. You could see his eyes through the dark, a small smile on his lips before he whispered.

“M’glad you brought me home.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, readjusting the pillow beneath his head. “I know you were kind of freaked but, I think dinner went well.”

You had to agree with him. Your dad was more than eager to show him the records he’d collected in the basement, your sister’s boyfriend was thrilled to discover they had the same taste in beer. He was polite and pleasant--not that you expected anything less--and somehow, he seemed to fit in quite naturally.  

“It did,” you said, melting into his side when he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you close. You indulged him for a minute, let his mouth meet yours in the dark cover of night until you heard footsteps in the hallway. 

You pulled away automatically, eyes wide until you were sure you were safe, you sighed and looked at him. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because my parents are home and my sister is gonna climb into bed on the other side of that wall.”

His eyebrows pointed together, a devilish look on his face. “You don’t want me to fuck you right here?”

“It’s not that I don’t,” you put a hand on his chest to keep some distance. “It’s that I don’t trust you to be quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” he pulled you closer again, “promise.” As much as you wanted to resist, you couldn’t. His hands moved along your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake when you let yours reach up to cup his face. 

Surely this wasn’t your brightest idea, but the excitement of having him here and having him now made thoughts of what if float out the window and down the block--the same one where you had lemonade stands and graduation parties.

You’d gotten used to the way he easily slid your shorts down to your ankles, fingers nestled between your thighs when your back arched to grant more access. He pressed kisses to your jaw, hummed in satisfaction when you let your hand grip his length beneath the sheets. 

It wasn’t long until your clothes littered the floor, every inch of your body ached for him despite the risk and the possibility of being caught. But when his head dipped below the duvet and his tongue met your center with agility, the posters and the embarrassing stories from the dining table vanished into thin air. The only thing that mattered was the way you gripped the sheets and the way he slid into you with ease.

“Don’t--be--loud,” you reminded with broken words, rhythmic and punctuated by the pleasure that traveled through your veins. 

“M’not,” he laughed, his voice was throaty and strained, “you’re the one making the most noise.”

“Cause it feels so good,” you sighed. 

“S’the point, baby,” he leaned closer now, caught your lips in his and buckled his hips against yours, deeper and harder until you swore you saw stars. 

“Let me feel you,” he begged, adjusting your legs to get as deep as he could, pumping into you harder and harder by the second. 

He found release soon after, whispers of your name circled the room and fell back on the sheets by your side, breathless and sweaty. 

“Do you think he was watching? Bieber, I mean.” He eyed the poster across the room, let his lips twist into a smirk when you rolled your eyes. 

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

sex bucket list fic challenge | my masterlist | come chat

[xomarauders]

ever since I read that line in Order of the Phoenix where Ginny says “Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!" (ch. 33) I have created many head canons of them being pals. 

here is an example of one of those moments <3

tw: implied PTSD 

__

The house was more ominous at night. Almost as if all the dark magic they worked so hard to get rid of during the day was seeping out of the dusty walls, vibrating in the air, and making one’s skin tingle. Ginny lie awake, not because of the house and its horrors but because of her own mind and the demons that have remained there since she was eleven. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to go to sleep, but the moment her eyelids close together she sees his face. She hears his synthetically understanding voice as she remembers how she bore her young, naïve heart out to in a cursed journal that she would never truly be rid of. Her eyes snapped back open and she lets out a slow, but shaky breath, afraid she might wake Hermione, who was fast asleep next to her, apparently oblivious to the darkness swimming around them and inside of Ginny’s head.

It is unsurprising that Sirius hates this place. She did not understand why Dumbledore made him come back here, but her mother constantly reminded her to not question the headmaster’s judgement and so Ginny said nothing. She exchanged looks with Lupin at the dinner table, a mutual concern seemingly running between them, but she never spoke. It was not her place to.

During the day it was easier to be in the house. Fred and George were a great distraction, even Sirius with his ever-declining mental state seemed to perk up whenever the twins pulled pranks and got on their mother’s nerves—which really was not all that hard to do. Sometimes, though, it was tense in the house. Order meetings were becoming more frequent—they were planning on brining Harry soon—and the news shared amongst members was rarely good. Ginny was unable to attend the meetings, of course, but from what she heard from Lupin and Bill’s mumblings at dinner and the information she was able to persuade Tonks to share, she knew things were not in their favor.

A small meow at the foot of the bed suddenly made her jump. She sat up, her long, red hair flying forward with the motion, to see Crookshanks stretching and finding himself a more comfortable position to sleep. Ginny rolls her eyes, glancing down at Hermione to see that she was still asleep—she was. Unable to entertain the idea of rest anymore, Ginny shoves the blankets off of her and sneaks out of the room, careful to step over the creaky floorboard George had pointed out to her earlier as she wandered into the hallway.

It was cold, and Ginny mentally scolded herself for not thinking to grab her jumper. She folds her arms, attempting to preserve her body heat and continues to travel down the hallway and down the long staircase. This house was too big, she thought, as she passed rooms that have probably been locked for years, rooms that were being used for nothing but to hold deep, dark, pureblood secrets.

One door was open, though. One Ginny had never been in, one she was probably not allowed to be in. Still, she was Fred and George’s sister which meant she had curiosity coursing through her veins, and so she pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. There was a huge green rug in the middle of the room with silvery designs running across it. A mahogany desk was settled in the center of it, thick layer of dusk and cobwebs covering it and the various objects sitting upon it. There were several books, a few ornate decorations, and some gaudy candlesticks. Crooked photographs hung on the wall, pictures of unsmiling people with charcoal eyes. Ginny scrunched up her nose—Kreacher has obviously neglected his duties to clean this room, much like the rest of the house. She wonders if anyone else has discovered this space.

“You know, this house isn’t exactly one you should be wandering about in at night.”

Ginny whips around, her heart leaping into her throat for a moment before realizing it was just Sirius. He was standing in the doorway, his shoulder resting against the frame, a somber look on his face. The clothes he was wearing seemed to drown him, his body still extremely thin after all those years in Azkaban. The hair on his head had been tied up in a knot on his head, wand pocking out the side of it.

“Sorry.” Ginny says after she remembers how to breathe. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Sirius shrugs. “Neither could I. Would you like some tea? I was going to make some.”

Ginny nods, following him out of the room and down into the kitchen. They are both silent, taking comfort in one another’s presence but unwilling to discuss just what nightmares had been keeping them up. Ginny sits down patiently as Sirius begins to make the tea, his hands shaking slightly as he goes about it. She doesn’t mention it. It was a bit funny to her that Sirius made tea the muggle way, warming the water with a kettle and allowing it to steep for several moments. For as impatient as he was, he seemed to take his time with tea.

“Thank you.” She says once he puts a cup in front of her. He offers her a tight smile and sits across from her. Again, it is quiet, but the darkness that was earlier overwhelming Ginny seemed to be drifting away, leaving her feeling something close to content.

“Remus’ mother taught me how to make tea.” Sirius says, staring down at his cup. “It was the summer just before…seventh year? I had been living with James for some time at that point, so it must have been. We decided to take a trip to Wales to visit Moony. Their house was so hidden, tucked away from the rest of the town. It was safer that way, I suppose. For Remus. Anyway, I had woken up early, before the rest of the lads. Nightmares were still a common occurrence for me and so I snuck downstairs in an attempt to not bother anyone. Hope was already up. I was surprised, the sun hadn’t even started to rise, but she was sitting there at the small, wooden table reading some muggle novel.  I remember she smiled at me and offered to make tea. She didn’t even question why I was up. She just offered tea. So, I said yes, even though it felt like I wouldn’t be able to stomach anything. And she made tea. It became sort of routine during the week we stayed. I would wake up in the early hours of the morning and Hope would be sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me. When it got down to the last few days, she showed me how to do it myself. It was calming, doing all the steps instead of rushing the process like us wizards like to do with so much. Even after we left the Lupin’s home, I would still wake up with nightmares and make Hope’s tea.”

Sirius looked up. “I still don’t know why the dementors didn’t take that memory from me. Maybe because of the nightmares that preceded it. Either way, I’m glad that Hope Lupin remains untainted in my mind.” He smiles slightly and Ginny grins back.

“She sounds like professor Lupin. I found myself having tea in his classroom many times when he was at Hogwarts.” Ginny shrugs. “I have nightmares, too. I think he might have known.”

Sirius hums, a soft look appearing on his face. “He tends to know those sorts of things.”

Ginny was unsure what the whole situation was with Sirius and Lupin. She knew they were close, that there was some sort of history there, something that likely went beyond friendship, but she never asked about it. It was apparent to see, though, in the ways that Lupin could calm Sirius unlike anyone else and the lingering looks they exchanged as well as the gentle touches they gave one another. She wondered if they would ever be able to recover what they once had in full force instead of dancing around one another with hesitancy. Maybe one day when the war ended they would be able to find some sort of peace with one another.

“Are you ever afraid it will never end?” Ginny finds herself whispering. Thinking about the war caused an ache in her chest, one she was afraid would become chronic as time went on.

“Mm, I suppose.” Sirius replied grimly. “Not so much that the war will not end, eventually it must. I’m more scared of what we will lose in the process.”

He was thinking about Harry. She knew he was thinking about Harry because that’s who she was thinking of. The whole fate of the world seemed to fall upon Harry Potter’s shoulders and Ginny feared that there was nothing she could do to protect him from it all. She wishes she could just take him away somewhere to hide, to wait for everything to blow over, but she knew Harry would never agree. He cared too much about everyone else even if they did not care about him in return. It was his fatal flaw, but she supposed that’s why destiny or fate or whatever decided to do this to him.

Ginny shifted slightly in her seat. The idea of losing Harry was one that haunted her mind almost as often as Tom Riddle did. He had become such a symbol of hope for her, a hero that had rescued her in the chamber of secrets but also as a friend who never saw her as the victim. Someone who she could banter with and laugh with. Someone who acknowledged her strength and was not intimidated by it like so many other boys she had dated. Harry was always the one in her mind, no matter how much she tried to get over him. She could imagine spending the rest of her life with him, despite how silly that sounded to say as a fourteen-year-old girl. Which is why losing him scared her so much.

“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” Ginny asked. Sirius looked up, his face looking wearier than she had ever seen, a hollow look in his silver eyes, as if his mind were somewhere else.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Yeah, he will be.”

Doubt lingered in the air like some poisonous fog that threatened to suffocate them, much like the rest of the evils within the house. Ginny almost wished for it, and that thought horrified her more than anything. It was too dark, too much like the thoughts she had when Tom Riddle was corrupting her mind. She took a long sip of her tea as a distraction, the heat of it scalding her throat as she did so. Her hands were quivering as she set the cup down and she tried to hide it as best she could, but Sirius noticed.

“I am definitely not as good as Remus when it comes to…expressing concern and offering counsel” he began tentatively, “but, I can listen. If you would like to talk about it. Whatever it is that is keeping you up.”

Ginny looked up him, at the kind but awkward smile he had plastered on his face and thought for a moment that Sirius was the best person she could come to with this. His mind had been toyed with for years by those vile dementors, so, if anyone could understand the feeling of losing their mind, it was him.

“My first year at Hogwarts, I was possessed by Tom Riddle.” She states bluntly. Sirius does not flinch. “Sometimes, especially at night, I can still hear him in my head. Telling me to…do things. To hurt people. It frightens me. I worry that he’s still there, that somehow he has been taking shelter in my mind waiting for the right opportunity to use me again. And so, I don’t sleep. If I don’t sleep, then he can’t take over my subconscious. He can’t control me. But it’s making me feel like I’m going insane. Makes me feel like, deep down, I am a terrible person.”

She exhales shakily. It feels nice, to say it out loud. Even if it sounds that much crazier to her, at least she did not have to hide it. Sirius remained silent, looking at her with an expression of thoughtfulness. He never seemed like the type to think before speaking, but maybe this was a special case. Maybe he did think she was crazy but didn’t want to tell her that straight out. Maybe professor Lupin had rubbed off on him.

“I get it. The feeling of going insane, I mean. And, though I’ve never been possessed, I have been under the imperious curse, so I can understand not having control of yourself. And it is terrifying, Ginny, you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t scare you. Voldemort isn’t possessing you, not anymore. And you know that. But that doesn’t mean the fear automatically goes away. It’s going to take time.” He leans forward, resting his elbows against the table and looking her in the eye. “But, you have to know that you’re not a bad person. Everyone has their demons; everyone has light and dark inside of them. I came from a family of bloody pureblood supremacists; doesn’t mean I was destined to be one myself. It’s what you choose to be that matters.”

Ginny’s a bit surprised at the tears burning in her eyes and she bites down on her lip. “I’m just so tired, Sirius.”

“I know. I know.” He moves out his chair and swiftly makes it to the other side of the table, kneeling beside her and pulling her into his arms. She lets out a sob that she feels like she’s been holding for years as she grips the back of his robes, sobbing into his shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Sirius whispers. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

She cries herself to sleep, waking in the morning to find herself tucked into yet another bed in some random room of the house. The sun was shining in through the window though and Ginny felt a flicker of ease and contentment rush through her. She sits up, feeling a warmth against her feet, and sees a giant, black dog resting at the foot of the bed. She smiles.

The house was more ominous at night, but the mornings didn’t seem so bad.