#I’ll send you the links when I get them but I might not be actually on there
Note
i am disrespectfully slamming into your door demanding entrance into your drawpile sessions (only if you're comfy. im exaggerating)
they’re all done on @/dustsansm1’s whiteboards!! I think I’ve seen you on there before so I can dm you the next link once it opens :^)
#tbh I usually get on the boards hours after everyone’s gone so#I’ll send you the links when I get them but I might not be actually on there#cuz literally my last post was all doodled 7 hours after the board opened SDGHDS#ty tho <3#dtdrawz speaks#chasmbreach
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Keys guide to scam spotting v3
What kind of scams are on tumblr? Quite a lot, actually! As a result, this post will link to posts I’ve made (or by others) that explain what kind of scams are out there. Please be aware these posts are quite long but give as much detail as possible. I’ll add them here as I write them or add ones I have found.
Pet donation scams - Scams that use stolen pet pictures and impersonate the owner.
Donation scams - Scams that use medical emergencies/etc and steal fundraising posts from Facebook/etc.
Romance scams - Romance isn’t always from someone with good intentions they might just want your money.
Commission scams - The high price offered isn’t true, unfortunately, and you’ll not get paid.
Fake check scams - The check isn’t real when they offer to send you support with it.
Mutual aid scams - No you don’t pay someone to share your campaign.
Gift card scams - Not too common but blogs who promise you can win these from a link aren’t legitimate.
Palestine based scams - Sometimes the blog asking you for funds is stealing their content off a legitimate fundraiser for someone in Palestine.
Diabetes and Insulin themed scams - Written by my friend @12percentspider , this post explains how diabetes works and why the person asking you for $300 (claiming they need insulin and are down to their last pen) is a scammer.
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Coffee Shop: VII
Simon Riley x Fem!Reader
You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.
Coffee shop Masterlist
The next morning as Simon lay in bed, he clicked on the link you texted him about the adoption website. Navigating to the section for dogs, he was surprised to find only one listing – the last puppy up for adoption.
It was a male German Shepherd puppy, approximately two months old. Knowing the pup was too young for K-9 training, Simon decided that having a companion at home would be comforting until then. Quickly filling out the online form, within ten minutes, the puppy was officially Simon's.
The shelter informed him that his new furry friend would be ready for pick-up at noon. Simon went about his morning routine, enjoying breakfast and engaging in a rigorous workout until it was time to pick him up.
Leaving the shelter, Simon stared at the small canine now occupying the passenger seat. The puppy looked up at him with big brown eyes, tilting its head to the side. Simon reached over and noticed the collar was blank.
“No name, huh?” he mused, and the puppy yawned in response.
"Like a little ghost," Simon remarked, and the puppy turned its head, seemingly considering the suggestion.
"Should your name be Ghost, hmm? Well, that might be a bit confusing on base." The puppy whined and laid down in the seat.
"Ghost Jr.?" The puppy didn't seem convinced, and Simon nodded, "Yeah, it doesn't have the same ring to it."
Simon reached for his phone and snapped a picture of the puppy, deciding to seek suggestions for a name from the team by sending it to the group chat Johnny had created.
Ghost: Name recs?
Johnny: Bartholomew
Captain: Bloody hell, Soap...
Johnny: What about Ghost Jr.? He has your eyes, L.t.
Gaz: Doesn’t really have a ring to it, mate.
Ghost: Thought so too.
Captain: That little pup does look like a Riley.
Ghost looked at the message and back at the puppy.
“What do you think of the name Riley?” The puppy stood up and started walking over to Simon, nestling himself in his lap before closing his eyes.
“Okay, Riley, I gotta drive, mate; you can't sleep there.” Simon picked him up and placed him back on the passenger seat, but Riley got up and made his way back into his lap.
“Bloody hell. Fine, just don’t move around or I’ll crash.”
Simon picked up a few things for him on the way home and set up a corner of the living room for him. After finishing, he sat down on the couch and took a few different pictures of Riley, sending them to you.
When Simon's name lit up on your phone, you eagerly grabbed it, swiping it open to reveal his notification. Your mouth dropped at the sight of the adorable puppy.
Y/n: WOW, you actually adopted him!? He’s so cute!! Did you decide on a name?
Simon: Riley.
He sent another picture of Riley, the puppy looking down at the camera, lifting his paw up, and you nearly melted.
Y/n: Riley is such a cute name for him. Have you bought him any clothes or toys?
Simon smiled as his eyes read over the message. So, you think his last name is cute, huh?
Simon: Riley is my last name.
Simon: Clothes? Dogs need clothes?
Y/n: Oh, I didn’t know that. The name suits him. He’s like a mini you :)
Y/n: They don’t need clothes, but it makes them look really cute. He might need little shoes since it’s getting colder.
Both you and Simon found yourselves smiling at your phones as you texted back and forth. The conversation shifted, and you asked him about his day. You even sent him a picture of your cat Missy, to which he replied.
Simon: She looks hateful.
Y/n: No, she doesn’t! She looks cute.
Throughout the day, you and Simon exchanged a few pictures. Simon shared more photos of Riley, curled up next to him while watching a movie. In return, you sent a picture of yourself in your garden, busy planting new flowers.
This led to Simon asking more about your garden, and you gladly shared details about your favorite plants and flowers. You took him on a virtual photo tour of your backyard, showcasing a thriving fruits and vegetables garden.
Simon: What type of stuff you growin?
Y/n: Some onion, garlic, potatoes, cabbage, cauliflower, zucchini, carrots, and some others I can’t remember off the top of my head.
Y/n: I even have a cute little apple tree!
You snapped a picture of Missy sunbathing next to your basket full of produce. Simon smiled at the stretched-out cat, leaning over to show Riley the picture.
“You fond of cats?” Riley started nibbling on the hem of Simon's jacket.
The following day, in the afternoon, you found yourself finishing the batch of apple strudels you had baked, only to realize you had made too much. A sigh escaped you as you surveyed the pan filled with the pastries and glanced at the abundance of produce you had harvested the day before. The realization hit that, being just one person, much of it would go to waste before you could use it all.
You decided to put some of the strudels into a container. Grabbing an extra basket, you carefully arranged half of the vegetables you had picked yesterday.
I'm sure Simon wouldn’t mind a free delivery?
With a small basket and container in hand, you made your way up his driveway and rang the doorbell. Simon peeked through the peephole and cursed when he saw you on the other side.
“Just a second.”
He quickly retreated to his bedroom, donning sweatpants and a hoodie before returning to the door, opening it.
“Hi, sorry to bother you so randomly in the day. I just wanted to drop these off since I had extra.” Simon looked down at the basket in your hands, and then his gaze went to you. He was about to thank you when Riley went between his legs, walking to you. Your eyes grew wide, and you put the basket down on the ground.
“Hi Riley, aw, look at how cute you are.” Simon smiled down at you, loving the way his last name sounded when you said it. Riley was licking your face, and you laughed.
“Would you like to come in?”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude if you're busy.”
“Wasn’t doing much before you came.”
Simon had been lying in bed, watching a Gordon Ramsey cooking video in nothing but his briefs.
“Okay,” you smiled up at him, and he reached over, grabbing the basket you brought. You picked up Riley, and both of you walked inside.
Simon's living room bore witness to his minimalistic approach to decor, featuring only a couch, a TV, and a coffee table. As you stood in his living room, the blank walls and empty space caught your attention.
“Sorry love, don’t really know how to decorate.” You laughed, placing Riley down.
“There’s actually a Ross not too far from here. Maybe you could get a lamp… or two. Maybe a painting?” You glanced around, noticing the absence of a dining table or any items on the counters in the kitchen.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this house was for sale.” Simon laughed, placing the basket you brought on the counter.
Simon raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of a Ross.” You turned to face him, eyes wide, “You're joking, right?”
“Dead serious, love.” You pulled out your phone and showed him a picture of the Ross building. “You're telling me you’ve never been inside one of these?”
Simon shook his head again. What was the big deal about this store?
"They have everything in this store! Furniture, clothes, skincare, shoes, purses, home decor, even some spices and snacks, but I wouldn’t trust it. You have to go, Simon! They even have clothes and toys for dogs.” Glancing at the time, Simon looked back at you.
“You have anywhere to be right now?”
“No, I don’t really have things planned on the weekends besides spending time with Missy.”
“You think she’d mind if you were gone for a few hours.” Your smile grew as you caught on to what he was hinting at.
“No.”
Simon placed Riley in the large cage he had bought, and the drive to Ross took only around five minutes. The short trip to the store became a chance for Simon to discover more about your interests and preferences for small talk of course, not that he wanted to know more about you, of course not.
As you walked into Ross, you rambled on about various pieces of furniture and decor, grabbing a cart and leading Simon towards the furniture section. Simon's eyes widened as he checked the price tag for a nightstand.
“Are these things broken or chipped? Why are they so bloody cheap?”
You laughed as Simon added the nightstand to his cart. Navigating through the store, you selected a stylish black lamp, and Simon followed suit, placing it in his cart. Moving on to the decor aisle, you looked at various candles, allowing Simon to sample a few before he settled on one with a pine scent.
You continued adding small decor items for Simon's coffee table – throw pillows, throw blankets, a rug, a bookshelf, minimalist frames, place mats, and even a skull wax warmer with some clean linen scented melts. Your choices filled the cart with a mix of stylish and cozy additions for Simon's home.
In the kitchen aisle, you insisted on essential items – a fruit basket, organizers for his pantry and fridge, additional pots and pans, and more cooking utensils. Simon, who only owned one pan and one of each silverware, recognized the practicality in your suggestions.
In another aisle, he saw you looking at a cat mug before putting it back and wandering into another section. He quickly grabbed the mug and placed it at the bottom of his cart before making his way to you.
“You ready, love?” You hid something behind your back and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll meet you up front. I just need to look at something real quick.”
You found yourself in the doggy section of the pet aisle, examining various toys and outfits for Riley. Noticing he only had one rope chew toy, you felt compelled to get him more. You selected a little squeaky bone chew toy, a tuxedo, a sweater, and some adorable little shoes – perhaps a size too big, but too cute to resist. To complete the ensemble, you even chose a fluffy bed for him to sleep on.
Doubt crept in – was this too much? Should you put something back? Would Simon find it odd? Shaking off the uncertainty, you shrugged and placed everything in your cart. As you made your way to the registers, you spotted a clearance aisle filled with past holiday-themed items. A cute black and white skull mug caught your eye, and you picked it up.
He asked you to draw skulls on his bookmark, and he really liked the skull wax warmer. I’m sure he’d like this.
Placing it in your cart, you walked to the registers. Meeting Simon at the front after both of you finished paying, you helped him carry his bags to the car while he handled the nightstand.
When you returned to Simon's house, you dove into helping him unpack everything in the living room. You organized items, rearranged furniture, and experimented with different placements until the layout felt just right.
While you were busy making his home feel cozier, Simon had taken charge in the kitchen, using the ingredients you brought to prepare a meal. He made oven-roasted vegetables and steak, with guidance from a Gordon Ramsey video. Pulling the newly purchased mug from the Ross bag, he washed it and filled it with ice water.
Unbeknownst to Simon, you had stationed yourself on the floor behind the couch, secretly dressing Riley in a little tuxedo. Just as you finished putting on his tiny pants, Simon walked over with two plates, setting them down on the coffee table. Trying to conceal Riley, you quickly grabbed some black kids' sunglasses from the bag and placed them on Riley before picking him up and showing Simon.
“He looks like the dog from the bookmark! I couldn’t find a toy assault rifle, though.” Simon paused for a few seconds, looking at Riley and you holding him up with a big smile. He laughed and picked Riley up, your hands brushing against each other for a moment.
Simon couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat, feeling your hand against his. A foreign sensation of touch, yet Simon found himself yearning for his hand to linger against yours a few seconds longer.
“I have to show the boys this.” Simon laughed, handing Riley back to you so you could hold him up. He took a picture from the side, excluding you, but the moment he sent it, the boys bombarded his phone with questions, asking if those were your hands and if you two were on a date.
“I also got him another outfit, it’s this sweater and some little shoes for when you take him outside when it starts snowing.” Simon smiled as you gestured towards the other outfit laid out on the couch.
“Thank you, love, for spending your money on him. You really didn’t have to.” You smiled and got up, sitting on the couch.
“It’s no problem at all. I wanted to see him dressed up.”
“He’s definitely going to be a ladies' man at the dog park now.” You laughed, finally noticing the two plates on the coffee table.
“Oh! Is this for me?” Simon walked over to the kitchen, bringing your new mug. “No, it’s actually for Riley.” He approached you with a grin and placed the mug down on the table in front of you.
Your eyes grew wide upon seeing it. “Oh my god! I was thinking about getting this mug at Ross!”
“It’s yours, love, and I cooked dinner for us as a thank you for spending your day helping me spruce up my place and for sharing your garden with me.” You smiled, looking at the delicious meal in front of you. Simon had used the potatoes, carrots, and everything you gave him. The aroma filled the air, and you realized how hungry you were. Almost forgetting the mug you had bought him, you dug through the bag and pulled it out.
“I almost forgot. I actually got you a mug.” When you handed it to him, he smiled, looking at the little skulls.
“You know me so well.” You smiled up at him, and the moment lingered for a few seconds before Riley tried to jump on the coffee table to get to the food.
Simon put on a movie, and both of you enjoyed dinner together, sitting on opposite ends of the couch and sipping from the cups you had bought for each other. After finishing, you insisted on washing the dishes he used to cook, despite his multiple offers to handle it. You expressed gratitude for his effort in cooking, considering the least you could do was tackle the dishes.
Once done, you both indulged in an apple strudel, using the moment to learn more about Simon—his favorite color, a few favorite foods, little details that brought you closer. As the night grew late, you decided it was time to head back home.
“I should really head back home; it’s late.” Despite spending the day with you, Simon felt a twinge of disappointment at your leaving.
“Let me grab my keys; I’ll walk you home.”
“Oh, are you sure? I mean, I only live a few houses down.”
“I insist; it’s dark out. You only live a few houses down anyway; it’s no bother.”
Strapping Riley to a leash, the three of you walked to your house. You pointed out various flowers and plants around your front door, and Simon mentally noted them down, remembering the ones you said you didn't have.
“I had a lot of fun today, and thank you again for cooking and for the mug.” Simon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket while Riley sniffed around your flowers.
“I should be the one thanking you; my house doesn't look like a prison cell anymore.” You laughed and lightly shook your head. “Maybe next time you could come over, and I could show you how to grow a thing or two. You could meet Missy.”
“Sounds like a plan, love.” You smiled and kneeled down to say goodbye to Riley.
“I���ll talk to you later, goodnight Simon.” You grabbed the keys from your pocket and unlocked your door.
“Goodnight, love.”
When you closed the door behind you, Riley let out a low whine. Simon turned and began walking away.
“I know, Riley. I feel the same way.”
#call of duty#cod#cod fanfic#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod mw3#call of duty modern warfare#writers#cod mwii#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley cod#simon x reader#simon riley#cod simon riley#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you#ghost x reader#cod ghost#ghost cod#ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#ghost fanfiction
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why is headless women art bad? i can see why it's seen as objectifying but why is it such a big deal to make art out of the female form? (sorry if i sound agressive this is a genuine question)
Hi anon! You certainly don’t sound aggressive - I’m actually very grateful for the opportunity to collate my current thoughts in one place, so thank you for the prompt. I’m going to try my hardest to keep this short.
For any women who haven’t seen posts on this topic previously, some examples of the ‘headless women art’ trend I’ve been talking about for a while now are below. They’re often missing their limbs, at various points of amputation, as well as all or part of their heads (if she has her eyes, I generally don’t count it). Sometimes their heads have been ‘replaced’ with other objects, typically plants or mushrooms, though I wouldn’t count a woman with an animal or bird’s head. They’re often naked.
So, per Anon’s question, why is it a ‘big deal’?
I mean, really, it’s not. It’s an absolutely minuscule deal - it’s as dwarfed by the issues of the sex industry, femicide, and systemic sex inequality, as we are by the Sun. And yet, much as our bodies are made of particles formed in dying stars, I see elements of the large within the small… ok, I’m not getting poetic.
It’s not a big deal, and I don’t necessarily think it’s wholly terrible either, which is why in my analysis posts on the topic I try to ask questions more than criticise, and criticise gently when I do so. What it comes down to is that I spotted a pattern, and wanted to acknowledge that pattern, think about it, and ask other women for their thoughts on it.
With that said, there are certain things that I question particularly, and have seen other women question, which I’ll list:
Remove her legs and she can’t run, remove her arms and she can’t fight, remove her mouth and she can’t shout, and remove her eyes and she can’t look back at you. You totally disempower her when you remove almost every body part capable of action.
By removing her head you also remove her brain (her personality and internal identity), and her face (her visible external identity). By anonymising her you strip her of her individuality, and depict all female people as a result - so what message are you sending about all female people with your depiction of us, naked and dismembered?
A (living) woman’s neutral existence requires her to have her head. By removing it, you are making an active choice to step away from the neutral (and it’s on you to defend that choice), and you are also by necessity depicting a dead woman. You ask about ‘art out of the female form’ - the living female form has a head. Why remove it?
The simplest test of whether something might be sexist, is to see whether it applies to men and women equally. Are (straight) men decorating their homes with ‘bits’ of male bodies? Do men in general feel conscious enough of, yet alienated enough from, the appearance of their bodies that they seek out their representation, sans heads, to reflect back at them? Why not, if women are? Would it be strange if they did?
As a follow up, since many of these pieces are made by women (often straight women), are (straight) men often focusing their artistic output on depicting ‘bits’ of male bodies? Do men regularly choose to create art intended to depict the ‘beauty’ of the male form? If not, why not?
You mention objectification - what links are there between objectification and violence? Could self-objectification be used to normalise violence against the self, or even excuse it? What about violence against others who are like the self (ie violence against other women)?
As I say, I’m not necessarily saying this artistic trend is exclusively a bad one, or that people/women in particular shouldn’t be decorating their homes however they please. It’s just something I’ve noted and found interesting, and like many apparently free choices, I think feminist women have a responsibility to interrogate their own and others’ motivations.
This is a hasty overview, and I’ve probably missed things - I’ll reblog with additions if I think of any, but you can also see my previous posts on this topic, and other women’s contributions, under my “Headless Women Art” tag. Thanks again for the question!
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Best Kept Secret
chapter twenty nine : the best kept secret (epilogue)
ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ☆ main masterlist ✧
pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader
rating : 18+ mdni
word count : 6.1k words
summary : an epilogue for our lovers.
warnings: tooth rotting sweet fluff, language, mentions of sex, an ending so sweet i made myself sick with emotion like omg.
a/n: crying my dick off rn. my moms bringing dinner home rn to celebrate me finishing this and i can't stop crying
☆
The morning sun is warm against your face, you bask in it, unmoving and only half awake until you feel a tiny hand slapping your cheek. The illusion of tranquility is immediately shattered as you softly laugh.
“Mama?”
Your eyes flutter open and you’re greeted by the sight of a little boy in linen pajamas, one pant leg rolled up over his knee as he stands beside your bed.
“Everyone’s awake.” Your son rubs his eyes as he looks up at you, pointing towards your bedroom door.
“Already? Well thank you for telling me.” You reach your hand out which he happily takes as you pull him to your bed side, placing a soft kiss into his dark curls, attempting to smooth out the disarray they're in to no avail. He giggles, pushing your hand away before pointing past you.
“Buir is wearing the birikad in bed again.”
“You’re very observant, sweet boy. Why don’t you go get your brother, bring him here and I’ll send buir to the nursery.” You give him a sleepy smile before you hear the familiar sound of tiny feet running across wood.
You shake Din’s shoulder, his snores stuttering as he sits up in one hasty motion, his eyes still closed as his fingers run through his mess of hair, identical to Arin’s frenzied curls.
“Bottle? Diaper?” His voice is thick with sleep, you reach over, rubbing his back as you sit up as well, kissing his shoulder.
“Stand down, nothing that serious. A certain someone just ran in here and told me there’s signs of life in the nursery.” You run your hands along the fabric strap on his chest. “And he pointed out that you fell asleep with the baby carrier on, again”
“Grogu said all that?” He turns to face you, eyes barely open as he leans towards you to kiss the tip of your nose.
“Save your jokes for someone who actually thinks you’re funny, Djarin.” You pull him in for a kiss by the fabric harness on his chest. When he tears himself from you at the sound of a small cry you stare at his sleepy grin.
You will never get tired of that smile.
“Sounds like someone wants to hear my jokes.” He groans as he stretches, tossing his lower half off the bed before reaching around for his leg, reattaching it and standing.
“Careful in the hall. Lately your son has been insisting on carrying his brother everywhere so you might run into a brawl out there.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” He yawns before disappearing in the direction of the nursery. Moments later you hear a small scuffle before Arin appears in the doorway holding a very angry Grogu in his arms.
“Put your big brother down, Arin.”
“Little brother.” Arin attempts to correct you as Grogu lets out a squeal of protest. You shoot him a look as you take the child from him, setting the tiny green boy in your lap as your youngest son climbs into bed to join you.
“Just because he’s smaller, doesn’t mean he’s your little brother. He’s still older than you.” You kiss your eldest on his wrinkly forehead as he relaxes in your lap, raising a little green claw to throw a pillow at Arin from across the room. “Grogu, No magic throwing at your siblings.” You chastise him softly, taking his hand and lowering it, reminding yourself to cut his nails later. “Come here.” You beckon towards Arin who instantly jumps up into bed with you, snuggling up next to Grogu as you give both of them a squeeze which Arin wriggles out of, settling on sitting beside you instead.
“And then I told your mother that I was going to find someone who does like my jokes.” You hear Din in the hall before you see him. When he steps into the bedroom the little girl in his arms is just a bundle of giggles. He sets her down on the floor, after a few shakey steps she makes it to your side of the bed.
“Good morning, little flower.” You lift Grogu off your lap, setting him beside his brother who already seems to have gotten over the pillow incident as he tells him everything he wants to do today. You pick up the toddler now demanding your attention. “Did buir do your hair?” You examine the two braids her wispy curls are in as she nods. You cradle her in one arm before looking at your riduur. “Where’s the rest of my garden?” You raise an eyebrow at Din who promptly turns around, revealing an identical copy of the girl currently in your arms, strapped into the fabric harness. The only difference between the two girls is the frown that one wears.
“She didn’t wanna laugh at my jokes so she had to sit in the back.” He shrugs as she kicks her little legs and you reach your free hand out for her.
“Give her to me you evil man.” He grins, reaching behind himself as he carefully removes her from the harness before holding her up to his face so their noses are touching.
“Do you want to go with your mother or stay with me?” He scowls at her which earns him a sharp yank to the hairs on his upper lip. “Dank farrik!” He pulls her away from his face, holding her out towards your waiting arm. “Just like your mother, always so mean to me.” He puts on a mock tone of hurt, both your daughters are finally smiling at the sound of it. You beam down at your girls.
“Dank farrik!” Arin’s voice fills the room as he shouts, you immediately glare at Din.
“Wonder where he gets that from.” You grumble before focusing on the girls, leaving your husband to deal with your sons. “You’ve got a big day ahead of you little flowers.” Both girls look up at you, you see your own eyes reflected in their identical faces. If it weren’t for their wildly different personalities you’d never be able to tell them apart.
They both give you a curious look before their attentions are drawn to Din who has started shoving your other two children in your direction, clearing a space for himself on the bed.
“You shouldn’t say that, ad, it’s rude.” He puts on a serious tone but neither Grogu nor Arin seems intimidated in the slightest, they only fuss as they’re squished between you and Din when he rolls back into bed on his stomach.
“You say it every day.” Arin stretches out, laying across his fathers back while Grogu seems content to stay snuggled up between everyone. “You said it yesterday when Lily put a frog in your shirt.” Din groans loudly, face down into his pillow. You frown down at your daughters. Lily looks entirely unbothered by the revelation of this information, her expression returning to its comical state of sterness. You raise your eyebrows at her, waiting for a confession but you know she won’t say a thing.
So you look down at Grogu.
“Did that really happen?” Your other three children all turn to stare at him until finally he nods.
“Told you.” Arin grins before crawling onto his fathers back, tugging at his hair gently.
Who could have predicted you’d raise such stubborn children.
“Why would you do that? Where did you find a frog?” You look back down at the girls in your lap. Lily remains a vault so you look to the other. “Daisy? Where did your sister get a frog?” The corners of her lips tilt up.
“Grogu brought it in through the window.” Her voice is soft and high pitched as she fights a smile.
“And why did he do that?”
“He was hungry, but buir made lunch, so he gave itta Lily.”
“And why did she put it in buir’s shirt?” You aren’t cross with them, you just can’t help but want her to keep talking, she’s so well spoken for her age and you can’t help but indulge.
“S’ buir’s fault.” She whispers, pointing at her father.
“Was it now?” You put on a surprised voice, Din’s head turns to the side so he can look at you. “What did you do to deserve such a thing?”
“She’s terrible to me, just like her mother.” He laments, reaching a finger out, ticking her neck. Lily’s stern expression falls in an instant, turning to high pitched laughter.
“Buir made ‘er sit in the back of the birikad.” Daisy continues to tell her tale, looking up at you for approval the entire time.
“Why would he do such a horrible thing to such a lovely girl?”
“She putta worm in his sock.” Grogu nods in silent agreement as Daisy continues on. “So he put ‘er on his back an’ she pulled the back of his shirt down an’ she put the frog in his shirt an’ he said dank farrik.” She takes a deep breath when she finishes and you look at your husband.
“So when you said everything went smoothly while I was out-“
“Aside from the worm and the frog everything went smoothly.” He grins for a moment until a small hand grabs him by the ear, you sigh as Arin grabs his fathers hearing aid, tossing it up into the air, on instinct Grogu reaches up, holding it in place in the air.
“Kriff-“ Din grumbles, tilting himself to the side to roll Arin back onto the bed before getting up to retrieve his hearing aid.
“Kriff!” Lily speaks for the first time all morning, her voice like a little chime.
Din has a guilty smile plastered on his face as he looks at you, scooping both boys into his arms as he lays back down. They squeal and try to wiggle out of his arms but he only has eyes for you as he keeps them caged against him.
“She has a terrible mouth, just like her mother.” He whispers.
You roll your eyes, unable to fight off your smile as you set your girls down on the middle of the sheets, once free of your hold they waste no time before joining their brothers in using Din as a personal playground.
You don’t care that you all have to huddle together to fit on the bed.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
☆
Socks, socks, socks, diapers, socks. They’re only going for an overnight but you can’t be too careful.
“Where are my little flowers?” You’re packing the overnight bag for as Din comes wandering in, putting on a real performance as he puts his hands on his hips. He stares at the ceiling as Lily squeezes between you and the table, hiding her face in your skirt as Daisy ducks under her crib, her yellow socks sticking out. He comes up behind you, wrapping himself around you as he sets several bottles into the bag you’re working on. “Have you seen my little flowers?” You hum softly as he kisses your cheek.
“I have not.” You turn grinning at him as he gives you an exaggerated sigh.
“That’s a shame, I wanted to see if they wanted to read with me for a little while…”
“M’right here!” Lily reaches out from the other side of you, grabbing his pant leg as he grins, reaching down to pick her up.
“Oh my goodness, would you look at that.” He grins, nudging the crook of his nose against the side of her face and kissing her cheek until she pushes him away.
“Itchy.” She whines, slapping him on the mouth.
“The stubble isn't going anywhere little lady, your mama likes it too much.” He raises his eyebrows at her, receiving a small frown in return. “Any other ladies wanna come read with me?” He speaks loudly, the little legs sticking out from under the crib don’t move so he shrugs, giving you one last look before taking Lily out to the living room.
“The coast is clear.” You go back to folding as your daughter wiggles her way back out, coming to stand beside you until you lift her up onto the changing table so she can watch you work. You hum different little songs to her, sometimes just a few notes, sometimes an entire melody, letting her hum and sing them back to you as you finish up, putting their blankets in last before you start dressing her to go. “Are you excited to have a sleepover at your aunties house?” She beams at you as you pull a thick jacket over her head, bundling her up as you tug a hat down over her ears.
“Yes mama.”
“Good, don’t forget to be extra well behaved.” You lace her little boots, lifting her up and setting her on the ground. “Aunt Elaine and Auntie Lysa are going back home later this month so you won’t see them for a bit.” You pat her head as she nods, her cheeks already going rosy from being a bit warm. “Now send in your sister so she can get changed.” She runs out of the room, calling out her sister's name and like clockwork you dress each of your children for the cold. As usual Grogu doesn’t want to wear his hat and fusses as you trim his nails but other than that it doesn’t take long before you’re ready to go. Wrapping a scarf around Din’s neck on the way out the door.
You don’t mind the walk, although with four kids it takes a little longer than it usually would. Din straps the girls into the carrier, holding Grogu in one arm and the large canvas bag in the other while you hold Arin. The cool autumn air filled with the sounds of babbles and chatter as you walk. Elaine and Lysa rent space on the outskirts of the city so you don’t even have to go deep into the afternoon foot traffic to get them there.
When you ring the doorbell you’re immediately swarmed by the excited pair. Lysa takes Grogu from Din in an instant as Arin squirms out of your arms to hug Elaine’s legs.
You’re happy to have family so close to home.
☆
It’s hard to not feel tired the moment you’re briefly child free.
The second you get home the couch beckons you towards it but you resist, you have plans for tonight. Din on the other hand, doesn’t fight his fatigue in the slightest.
“One whole night without kids.” You turn to grin at him but he immediately collapses into bed, pulling the covers up over his shoulders. You immediately yank it back down.
“No sleeping, we don’t do this often enough to spend what precious time we have sleeping.” He sits up enough to grab you and pull you down on top of him with a soft thud.
“We haven’t slept properly in about four years, let’s just sleep for a few hours, then we can spend the whole night together.” He mumbles, voice already groggy.
“We have to go soon, I want to see the lights.” You complain but turn your head to lay on his chest properly, happily soaking in some of his warmth.
You are tired.
And you do have a couple hours to spare.
“I suppose a couple minutes won’t hurt.” It’s still early in the afternoon and you don’t have plans until sundown, when you turn to see if he’s okay with that he’s already fast asleep. Eyes shut and lips slightly parted as his arms absentmindedly hold you tighter.
You lay back down his chest, inhaling the subtle scent of detergent on his top as you let yourself succumb to the exhaustion you rarely even let yourself acknowledge.
☆
You open the closet, taking the boxes sealed shut with locks and setting them on the bed.
You love your people, and you love being the queen, but sometimes you just want to be Din’s. You want to walk through the marketplace without being swarmed, you want to hold his hand under the moon without people asking who he is.
So every few months, when Lysa and Elaine take the kids for a whole night, you live in secret once more, just for a few hours.
You search through your dresser drawer until you find the key, twisting it in the lock before tossing it aside. You reach in, holding up the contents just as Din’s arms wrap around your waist. You jump a little bit, you hadn’t heard him come in.
“Do you miss it?” he murmurs.
“Sometimes. For the longest time this was all I knew you as.” You stare into the silver steel, looking at the two of you reflected against the beskar. “I prefer you without it though.” You set his helmet down onto the sheets before turning around in his arms, holding his face as you held the helm. “Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes. Never when I’m with you.” His lips rest against your forehead for a moment, content to just stay in that position for a while.
“We need to retire the nursery soon, the girls are getting too big for cribs.” you mumble.
“What if we want one more?”
“Last time we wanted one more we got two.”
“One more wouldn’t hurt.”
“They already outnumber us four to two.” You smooth out the fabric of his tunic with your free hand.
“Mhmm, I know. I’m just not ready to get rid of the cribs. When did they get so big?”
“Grogu’s still little.”
“He’s a little bigger now I swear.” You laugh softly kissing his cheek.
“That’s what kids do. They get bigger.” You release your hold on his shirt.“No more sad talk. We get one night alone every six months, I don’t want to spend it all melancholy.”
“Fine, fine.” He takes the helmet from you. “Finish getting dressed if you wanna get there before sundown.” You grab his flight suit from the box, tossing it to him just before he shuts the fresher door. Searching through the box you find your cloak, Leaving behind the weapon you’ve come to learn is called the darksaber as you get ready.
Lacing your boots and pulling the cloak over your head you give yourself a quick once over in the mirror.
Unrecognizable.
As you turn to face the now opening fresher door you’re hit with a wave of nostalgia. The dark brown fabric of his flight suit now accompanied by scraps of armor that you’ve purchased over the years. The only actual beskar items being his leg and helmet, a helmet that you let your sons decorate to keep him from being recognized, neither one of you willing to take the risk of someone connecting the dots regarding his identity.
Messy streaks of green paint run along the outline of his visor as he holds a hand out towards you. You eagerly take it, the two of you rushing outside to the bike, covered with a tarp.
You happily wrap your arms around his waist as he kicks the engine to life, wasting no time before shooting off into the trees.
You don’t mind living in secret as much as you used to, after all, it’s only temporary now. One night, every so often, isn't so bad. Especially now that it isn’t out of fear or necessity, now you do it simply for the sake of being unobserved. You aren’t exactly discreet about the fact that you are together. Although no one ever asks, it's more than apparent who the father of your girls is, and while nobody would dare question you about his parentage, Arin looks more and more like Din every day.
But sometimes you just want to walk with him without everyone thinking about those things.
So you wear different faces, and use different names, and go back to keeping secrets, just for a few hours.
Din brings the bike to a screeching halt in the ship lot, handing over a fistful of credits and taking your hand once more.
“Ready to go, Dorthea?” You can hear his big dopey grin as he drags you towards the bustling sounds of the vendors.
“Of course, Oskar.” You follow behind him as he continues to pull you onward, wanting to get there in time to see the lights.
It’s your favorite part of nights like these.
Every colorful light turns on one by one and somehow also all at once, the flickering and shimmering of the colors as you stare up at them, Din’s hand in yours. It takes a few minutes but when it’s done it’s like the night sky is entirely lit up, your own personal set of stars.
“Happy now?” He pulls you deeper into the markets while you nod, giving your hand a squeeze as you pull him towards the familiar stands, picking up a few different sweets and knickknacks as you always do.
You point and giggle at anything particularly dirty. Somehow, despite all this time and his anonymity in this situation he still manages to get flustered when you dangle leather instruments in front of his face.
His favorite part of nights like these is the music.
You wouldn’t have suspected it based on how stiffly he dances but he loves nothing more than rocking back and forth with you on the cobblestone street.
Tonight a string band plays upbeat music and the square is full of people moving in circles around each other as everyone moves to the beat. When you pull your eyes from the frenzy of swirling vibrant fabrics he stands with his hand out, as if he even has to ask for such a thing.
You wrap your arms around his torso as he spins you around, pulling you into the crowd, people parting to squeeze you into the space. You can’t speak, the music is too loud and you can’t see each other's faces but you still manage to remain in sync. He doesn’t wear gloves anymore, wanting to feel his hands against yours. You stay close, moving in sync, grins on your face as you press your veiled face against his helmet, wanting to be as close to him as possible. The lights shimmer against his armor, the beskar reflecting the lights as you move, colors melding together as his hands go from your hands, to your waist, then to your back, your bodies flush as you dance until you can barely stay upright.
You both stumble back into the cabin, giggling, giddy messes.
Tripping over each other as you get into bed, stripping layers off of each other in the process.
And he loves you like it’s the first time.
That’s how he always loves you now, never that panicked, fearful love where tries to take in every single drop of you for fear of never tasting it again. No, now he loves you like he can’t believe it. Every single time you unbutton your trousers or step out of your skirt he gawks like he’s never seen a pair of legs before. He’ll drop to his knees at the sight of your chest, no matter how many times he sees it. His devotion seemingly knows no bounds and as time carries on that fire refuses to die.
The only difference is that he isn’t afraid to love anymore.
And neither are you.
☆
The kids love the garden.
Maybe even more than you do. They’re careful, even when they’re chasing each other around in circles, to never step on the flowers. None of them are running now though, Grogu, Arin, and Daisy are all with you in the gazebo. It never ceases to amaze him just how easily you can calm them down. Grogu sleeps in the crook of your arm while Arin sits by your feet. Din watches as the little one pricks his finger on the needle he’s currently weaving in and out of the hem of your skirt. He doesn’t fuss though, he’s tough, just like his mother. He flinched before furrowing his brows and continuing his work. Daisy lays on her stomach on the other side of you, crayons are scattered across the gazebo floor as she colors in her notebook.
And you, in the center of it all, radiant, perfect, you.
Reading one of your romance novels.
Summer’s nearly gone now, the little ones are all bundled up in sweaters and scarves and you’re draped in a thick green shawl that you pull tighter around you as a crisp breeze blows by.
He’d stand and stare at you as long as you’d let him if a tiny hand didn’t reach up and pinch his jaw.
“Buir.” Lily snaps him back to reality.
“Yes, ad?” He looks down at her, seeing your eyes represented in the little girl in his arms.
“You’re starin’ at mama.”
“That’s awfully perceptive of you.” He hums as she looks around, a look of concentration on her face as she stares at the ground where she continues to speak to him.
“You say starin’ is rude.”
“I’m allowed to stare at mama.” He has to stifle a laugh as she scolds him.
“Why’s that?”
“Because we love each other.”
“If you say so.” She’s already lost in the conversation as she turns around in his arms, pointing at the yellow petals on their left. “Sunflowers.”
“That’s right, beauty.” He continues to carry her tucked in one arm down the path. “What about those?” He nods in the direction of a bushel of pink flowers.
“Tulips.” She’s always been so serious about the flora, just like you.
“Correct, brains.” He kisses the top of her head, brushing a stray curl out of her face as she points up ahead.
“Daisies.” She announces proudly, turning to him for approval.
“When did you get so smart?” He gives her a shocked look that makes her crack a smile.
“Mama taught me.” She states matter of factly as she crosses her arms.
“Well then, your mother is very smart.”
“Smarter than you.” He gasps as she giggles.
“That can’t possibly be true.”
He carries her over towards the daisies, pointing at the vibrant blue petals of the flowers beside them.
“I’m just as smart as your mother, look, these are roses.” He pokes her in the belly as she shrieks.
“No, buir!”
“Are you sure? Oh wait, you’re right, those are peonies.” He grins at her as she shakes her head wildly.
“Buir! They’re lilies!” Her cheeks go rosy as she giggles, he gives her a confused look, squinting at the flowers one more time.
“Are you sure? I’m almost positive those are daffodils…” He leans forward, kissing her chubby face as she continues to giggle.
“Is he being mean to you?” Your voice fills the air as he turns, you’re holding your skirt up as you walk towards them, holding your arms out for Lily.
“Me?” He says theatrically as he hands the squirming toddler to you as she reaches for her mother. “If anything she was being mean to me.” You always tell him that he was born to be a father, but you, when he looks at you he almost can’t believe just how good you are at it. Lily wraps her arms around your neck, she kisses your cheek as a tiny hand ever so carefully holds onto your necklace. With a small yawn, Lily buries her face in your neck as you smile, your eyes turning from your daughter to him.
“You know she said you’re smarter than me?” He whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?” You smile and it’s like his heart wants to burst from his chest.
“I’ll never get used to looking at you.”
You always say that as if he doesn’t know what that feels like. Everytime you so much as enter a room he feels the same as he did the first time he saw you.
“Where’s the rest of your ducklings?”
“I took them back to the cabin, Daisy was sleepy so I assumed this one might be too.” You rub Lily’s back, the little one is seemingly already asleep in your arms.
“Want me to take her back to the house?” He offers but you shake your head.
“I have to go get your present anyway.” You grin.
“I’ll be here.” He gives you a quick kiss before you turn in the direction of the house.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. You’re annoyingly good at gift giving. Despite the fact that you have already given him the greatest gift he could possibly ask for in the form of three little ones and loving his own like you carried him yourself. You still manage to one up him every time.
While your competitive nature towards each other has lessened quite a bit from it’s initial amount it’s still a notable part of your marriage, anniversary gifts being the biggest competition of all.
The gazebo is empty when he returns to it, carefully stepping up onto the bench to reach into the rafters where he’s hidden your gift. He grabs the wooden box, stepping down just in time to watch you step inside with him.
“Can I go first?” Your fingers twitch as you nervously mess with your skirt. You look exactly the same as you did when you left which has him a little confused but still smiling.
“Sure.” He sets the box down behind him, hopefully out of sight as he turns back to you.
“Don’t be mad.” You have a sheepish smile on your face that already has him worried.
“What could I possibly be mad about?”
“You know how we always say that we aren’t going to use the seemingly infinite funds we have at our disposal?” You rock back and forth on your heels anxiously.
“Yes…”
“Because we don’t want them to be spoiled.”
“I’m not following-” He really isn’t.
“Well I may have gone the tiniest bit overboard, and we never said we couldn’t spoil each other.” You bite your thumb nail as you stare at him. “If you don’t like it we don’t have to use it.”
“I’m starting to get nervous, sarad.”
You reach into the pocket of your skirt, holding out a familiar little sphere.
“Grogu thought you might want this back.” You place the gear shift knob into his palm. “Happy Anniversary, Din.” He stares at you, bewildered as he rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. “Obviously it isn’t your ship exactly but it’s pretty damn close.” You muse softly and he nearly drops it.
“Wait- you, you got me a ship?”
“It’s in the lot by the markets we can go later-” He cuts you off, immediately wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you as he lifts you a few inches off the ground.
“You found another Razor Crest?” He’s breathless as he feels a rush of gratitude that only you can give him swelling in his chest.
“I built another Razor Crest.” You smirk, clearly pleased with yourself. “Grogu helped, of course, to make it authentic, and this one has less weapons and more child safety measures but other than that it should fly the same.”
“You brilliant woman.” He can’t help but stare at you in disbelief, how he has been blessed by you will always be a mystery to him.
“Now we can travel whenever you want, you always say you want to show them the galaxy.”
“I- I don’t know what to say.”
“Good, you talk too much.” You kiss him, he’s genuinely speechless, what do you do when the woman who has given you everything gives you more?
“Your turn.” He whispers, feeling even more nervous about his own gift now that you’ve given him what is quite literally the perfect gift.
He hands you the simple wooden box with a little latch to keep it shut.
“The failsafe?” You look up at him as he nods, popping clasp up as he opens it, holding it out towards you.
“How did you- when did you?” Your eyes are growing wet as you stare into the box before looking up at him.
“Took a little while to put it all together.” He murmurs, pushing the container into your hands until you finally take it.
“You kept all of this? All this time?”
“Do you like it?”
“Like it? I- It’s everything, Din, quite literally everything.” Tears flow freely now as you sniffle. You sit on one of the benches within the gazebo, carefully going through each and every item, looking more shocked than he was when you gave him your gift.
He’s glad you like it, after all, it took him a few years to put it together.
You sift through everything, wiping your eyes every so often as you do.
A plastic blue lily, wrapped in black lace. A silver anklet with gaudy sapphire jewels dangling from the clasp. Several sheets of parchment with ink illustrations on them. A handful of pressed and dried leaves. A couple of pink and gold buttons. And a candy wrapper.
The centerpiece of the gift being a rectangle wrapped in thin brown paper, tied with a green bow.
You hold it carefully, he watches as your fingers trace the ribbon.
“That’s your real gift, the rest is just some stuff I saved.”
“It’s a wonderful gift, Din.” You wipe a few stray tears on your shawl. “It’s all perfect.” You carefully peel back the paper until all that’s left in your hands is the tattered and worn book.
The Smitten Paladin.
He watches with a smile as you flip through it, realizing it isn’t any old copy of the book. It’s your copy. With his favorite color, and your rules written out within.
“Oh, Din.” He watches as your face scrunches up with emotion, the way it does when the kids hit different milestones, or when the two of you finally got married.
“How about we call this one a tie?” He can’t help but feel a sense of pride, finally finding you something on the same level as your gift. Of course it wasn’t an easy task to top a ship like that but a part of him can’t help but think that he couldn’t have found you a better gift than this.
“Actually…” You smile despite the puffy redness around your eyes and he groans.
“No actually, let me have this.” He pulls you to him, kissing the bridge of your nose first and then your lips, letting him indulge in you for only a moment before pulling back.
“Are you sure? It’s a pretty good gift, good enough to tip the scales.”
“Fine.” He sighs, an exaggerated look of defeat crossing his face.
“Close your eyes.” He doesn’t argue with you, shutting his eyes as you manipulate his arms so he’s holding his hands out, feeling something extremely light being set in his palms. “Now open.”
Socks.
Socks that are too small to currently fit any of his children.
His heart races as he holds the little brown booties in his hands.
“Are you serious?” He can feel his face getting hot, and his mouth going dry as he whispers, kneeling down in front of where you sit.
“We can manage one more member of Clan Mudhorn. This does mean we’ll have to keep the nursery for a few more years, and expand the cabin-”
“I’ll build you a dozen cabins if that’s what you want.” His brain moves at a million miles an hour as he stares in awe at the gift that is you. “Dank farrik.” He can’t help it as he whispers to himself, hands on your stomach.
“I win.” You tilt your head to the side, grinning at him as you take his face in your hands.
“You win. Every single day you win because you gave me them and you gave me this.” He lets you pull him up to meet you halfway, kissing him once more. His hands on your hips. “I love you, so kriffing much.”
“I love you.” You wrap your hands around his. How did he get this lucky? How is he deserving of this life you have given him?
He holds your hand when you walk back to the cabin, finding the children in the main room, making themselves a pillow fort as you rush to help them he watches from the sidelines.
He spent a lot of time watching you.
Watching you wander, and read throughout the castle.
It’s hard for him to believe that now he gets to watch you be a riduur and mother.
Because of you he gets to have a home.
Because of you he has a bed, and a house. Because of you he found his way back to Grogu, and now he has three more little ones and another on the way.
Because of you he can just be a man, a riduur, and a father.
With you he can just be Din.
☆
a/n : i'm like sick to my stomach with crying so that's cool lmao. i thought i would have more to say but this is it and i'm proud of it and i'm happy to have shared it. i can't believe i was lucky enough to have so many people to share this story with. from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
#lincolndjarin#the mandalorian#best kept secret#bks#din djarin#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian x you#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin fanfiction#mandalorian smut#din djarin smut#pedro pascal#din djarin/reader#din djarin/you
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The goal of Fandom Friday: provide a place where people can shout-out their favorite creators from the week, whether it’s a piece of fan art that made you smile or a fanfic that moved you. Drop a link to your favorite creations this week into my ask box along with what you loved about it, and I will give them a shout! It doesn’t have to be Star Wars either! If it’s on another website (AO3, Twitter, etc.), please be sure to state that as well.
This happens each week, so don’t feel like you’ve got to get out everything in one week. Just keep track of them throughout the week or send me an ask whenever you find something, and I’ll drop them all on Fridays (or throughout the weekend if I get a lot). The cutoff for each week is THURSDAY 12 PM (I’m in the Pacific timezone). Anything received after that will roll to the next week. A summary of the weeks’ recs will be posted at the end of the weekly queue, so check back here for all of the awesome fics and art! And be sure to go give the creations on that list some love (and don’t just share the ask responses I put out).
2024 Fandom Friday Weekly Summary Master List
Rules and additional details under the cut! PLEASE make sure you read the rules before sending something in. If your submission violates any of the rules, I will delete it.
Rules:
Please send submissions to my ask box (sending them all to one place makes wrangling them easier each week). In your ask, please include the creator’s handle, a link to their work/post (if links aren’t working for the ask, please DM me them), and what you loved about it!
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TW BLOOD
(bit ltr on)
TW REFERENCED CHARACTER DEATH
@naffeclipse
Part 1 | Part 2 | This is Part 3 | Extra
Gonna add some after comic shenanigans because I have thought of a LOT
It'll be linked as Extra
likely will be comprised of memes with maybe some serious
Long post under the cut!
And rambling right after
like. a lot. jkfdjklsd
It’S DONE
Well besides the extras and memes I’ll include in another part that. I don’t know when I’ll finish. But stay tuned I’m gonna go ham. I can't wait to share the memes especially loll
Fair warning my rambling here gets a little all over the place so if I repeat myself. Sorry lol.
If I knew how to include a second read more I would
anyway , I think I've made this comic lighter towards the end of this comic (both on purpose with the backgrounds and story lol) but this ending I hope is a combination of bittersweet and hopeful. Y/n gets to have a new family and connection to humanity that I think would be beneficial.
How they’d take finding out Y/n is a VAMPIRE is it’s own can of worms that you can decide for yourself how would go down. Best outcome is that Y/n continues to watch over the generations influenced by Vanessa and her family during their immortality.
Gregory and Cassie still haven’t been introduced in the Naff’s Cryptid Sightings universe by the time I post this, so if/when they are their characterization most likely will be different. And ggy likely won’t be placed in the au. Which is completely understandable! Tho an alternative path following canon fnaf more with 3 star fam, ggy n such is a concept I LOVE in the Cryptid Sightings world! I’ll go into it more ltr
Greg and Cass already have cryptid parents but now they get Uncle Eclipse and Uncle/Aunt/Pibling/Auncle/Etc Y/n. And Y/n gets to have one more purpose in protecting these ppl they will grow to care a lot about that knew Vanessa when Y/n couldn’t connect with her. Lots of sharing stories abt Vanessa occurs.
I’ll joke abt this in the extras & memes part but I think It would be so funny if Y/n can one moment be depressed and then Eclipse mentions Cass & Greg and they’re like “RIGHT I NEED TO PLAN HOW IM GONNA SPOIL THEM FOR THEIR BIRTHDAY” or “I LOST TO GREGORY LAST TIME IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN” or “I NEED TO CHECK UP ON THEM AND MAKE SURE THEY’RE ACTUALLY RESTING AFTER THEY FOUGHT THAT CRYPTID”
Eclipse is simultaneously grateful they have a new source of motivation, they haven’t seen you like this in a while, and he doesn’t dislike Gregory or Cassie. BUT since Cassie and Gregory are still Cryptid Hunters, it isn’t IDEAL lmao
On to elaborating on the comic: I love 3 star fam (by extension cassie) and Vanessa had growth offscreen so now her dying wish to y/n is like:
Nessie: hey. Make sure my kids (that aren't kids anymore) don't die ok cool cool
Sure Greg and Cass have Freddy and Roxy but between:
Demonic cryptids that have no experience being a human NOR a cryptid hunter human at that
Vs
Friend that might just be there still since if these cryptids could have humanity there's a chance my friend sending me memes that are so in character with their personality is ALSO still human despite being vampire and maybe ness & them could reconcile and Greg and Cass could finally meet the only person ness would have considered family and-
Nessie never would have considered y/n still having their humanity if it weren't for Freddy and by extension Roxy
And btw Ness would not have given her phone to y/n if she wasn't sure that y/n wouldn't hurt Greg and Cass.
She. Didn't expect y/n to go the extra mile and meet them in person. The phone would give y/n their contact information and all the photos of memories they missed out on
Y/n cries when they unlock ness's phone and Nessie still hadn't changed her password
The video she made that y/n sees at the end is when she was first entertaining the idea of y/n possibly still having their humanity, but still wasn’t sure. It was a video that she only ever planned on y/n seeing if she either died and/or she was sure y/n was still human in some regard. She wanted to leave y/n with something in that scenario.
Vanessa here meeting Vanessa in Cryptid Sightings and Lost episode canon would certainly be something. Vanessas from canon Cryptid Sightings would just. Not know how Vanessa got over it and neither does Ness here know
Also, there are some details for this canon divergence au that are completely settled to me and other details I don't have a solid idea for. Like, I'm not SET on how Nessie and Greg would meet, ness and Cass, if it would be at the same time, who would be doing the glitchtrapping. Prob becuz some of those are still unclear in canon canon FNAF and others I'm just indecisive
I'll leave it a little loose, up in the air
Also the possession being done by the same cryptid wouldn’t be possible with Cryptid sighting’s universe rules so. I’m not gonna bother figuring out those details for this comic.
But I do love the idea of Nessie growing closer to Greg and Cass and at least Ness and Greg sharing a bond over dealing with Glitchtrap
Speaking of glitchtrapped GGY in cryptid au-
The wizards FAVORITE now being in same universe as demonic cryptids that would absolutely want to slaughter Glitchtrap for possessing a KID? Making him kill multiple people, including a kid his age? Tasty. Scrumptious. I want to make a separate post just thinking Abt how canon crew for cryptid sightings might react to GGY, especially Cryptid Sun & Moon/Eclipse. I'll save most of that rambling for that potential post since there's so much angst potential.
While im here, I’ll ask. Naff, how would Eclipse react to a child, possessed by a demonic cryptid, having killed other children? Or. Is that a spoiler since these characters could be introduced in a reunion work and whether Cassie gets possessed to mirror canon fnaf is still up in the air? 👀
@/puhpandas can be blamed for my brain rot of the GGY story and dr rabbit stuffs and the potential it could bring.
Tho I don't expect to see GGY in any continuations of cryptid sightings lol I don't know how that would work when cryptid sightings already has laid down rules for possession in that universe and Glitchtrap is already gone. I'll happily see what Gregory and Freddy are like when they (hopefully) appear in future continuations of cryptid sightings
But since this is canon divergence I can indulge in three star fam real quick
To follow canon canon FNAF (or at least the fanon built off of the scrapped security breach canon as well as what stayed in sb), Vanessa would be saved by Gregory and Freddy, I'm undecided if Cassie would join in sooner or later. Nessie would regardless have to stomach being around kids that remind her of her trauma since she can't just fully IGNORE them. Gregory would have no one since I love the angst of the theory he killed his loving family as GGY
So. Nessie would probably know that and it would make the situation hard.
Vanessa would grow a bond with Gregory and Freddy at some point, Gregory has a head start due to. Y'know. Glitchtrap. Hard to not have some sort of connection to the kid that went through what you did too.
Anyway, Vanessa here would be saved by Gregory and Freddy to match up with canon. Or at least, the fanon I subscribe to for security breach since canon was lack luster and scrapped all the good ideas for Vanessa last minute.
Nessie and Gregory would have the shared experience of dealing with Glitchtrap trauma and Cassie gets roped, just like canon, with the whole Mimic situation. Then Nessie has two kids that she can't fully ignore but also can't stomach COMPLETELY being there for. Fun.
But since I adore 3 star fam too much, Vanessa is able to grow attached to Gregory like a big sister eventually (i adore big sis nessie dkljssfkld look at @/boringa55binch 's stuff you'll get ITTT)
When I'd imagine Cassie would be introduced, I bet Nessie would have a harder time with her around since what we've seen of Cassie in canon is only of her getting fooled. I bet Nessie would have a harder time around her for that reason.
But it's not like she COULD leave them completely alone since she's the one with the most cryptid hunting experience. And if these kids are SO INSISTENT about getting into trouble, fine. She owes them after all
I've been undecided if Cassie would be apart of the gang when Nessie is saved so that's up in the air for what ppls like most
Time skip is about 20-30 years ltr I've determined so, Ness did die when she was relatively young. (The circumstances of how she died are a plot device yes i will admit shush it isn’t terribly important sorry jklfdsjksfd)
I'm not the greatest at drawing aged characters so there you have it, Cassie and Gregory are in their late twenties early thirties.
Nessie knows it is a gamble to ask Y/n this favor. But, she's a worried big sis, being around Roxy and Freddy I bet would have softened her heart to the general idea of cryptids not being bad, and y/n doesn't seem to be bad atm. It could be a ghost that'll haunt watch over them, or Nessie's best friend can continue to be long distance buds with Nessie's new family.
And if Y/n was truly gone and all that remained was the vampire tendencies, by this point she has trust Gregory, Cassie, Freddy, and Roxy can keep each other safe. If it was truly a mistake to give y/n her trust.
So, that's why y/n hypes themself up and visits the graveyard when Gregory is there. And it did take a lot out of them but y'know I like the idea of y/n getting close with the gang.
It does make the next cryptid reunion a little weird.
Y/n & Eclipse: YOU DIDN'T MENTION VANESSA WAS A PART OF THE CREW NOW??
Freddy & Roxy: YOU NEVER TOLD US ABOUT VANESSA
Like, imagine both describing Vanessa in previous reunions, and NOW they're finding out it was the same person.
Vampire reveal set aside for later, this is y/n's newest reason to LIVE (mentioned earlier im gonna indulge on details down here)
They can't die yet! They still have memes to send to these kids! Jokes to tell! Series to make them binge with Y/n over a call! This is the gosh darn happiest Eclipse has seen them in decades!!
Flipping between seeing Gregory and Cassie as their nephew and niece and competing with Freddy and Roxy over the title of parent. Regardless of age. (they joke but Y/n never actually competes for the title, they are much too anxious of doing something wrong. Plus, Roxy and Freddy would be pretty tough to beat)
I also think it would be hilarious if Y/n sent out Eclipse with a chancla when Gregory does a Human Hero Complex goof up that painfully reminds y/n of their Human Hero Complex goof ups. He isn't allowed to make the same mistakes without consequence. And y/n WILL stay back in the bushes with goggles to SEE IT HAPPEN. Eclipse ain't worried abt y/n's mental state when they're too invested with their Nephew and Niece.
Gregory: We are adults.
Y/n: Yeah but you're also stupid humans who don't know when to quit.
Eclipse does get a chuckle they're now complaining so much abt human's having these stupid hero/martyr complexes when they were a human not so long ago themself lol
and
didn't mention before but
Y/n and Vanessa compared to Cassie and Gregory parallels that would could be explored.
ANYWAY (get an “anyway” tracker for this post 💀)
Cryptid Sightings doesn't have Cassie or Gregory in their cast of characters yet so (i think I mentioned this earlier but still), this could age. As of writing this, no reunion fic has been published. Might make a note of that if I release this after the fact. But still. Indulge with me in the hyjinks. I haven’t even begun on Freddy being a dad to y/n and possible Roxy dynamic with y/n lolll.
This au of an au of an au still has lots of angst to be explored like. Oh yeah, Gregory was controlled by Glitchtrap too and has a fuck ton of ptsd SINCE HE WAS TWELVE
Fun discussion for later at thanksgiving over zoom. One that Greg is just like: Can we get back to video games pls. now.
The bombshell that will be Y/n revealed to be a Vampire is still up in the air like I said earlier. But, y'know, it might go better this time.
Y/n hopes for that. Hopes. Funny, you haven't smiled this much in a while.
Vanessa's death hurts. Both of them were too young for their fates. It hurt especially when they were saying goodbye for the very last time. Nessie's death was coming and Y/n knew that, but at the same time. Y/n can focus on caring about people Nessie cared about. People Nessie trusted them to care for.
I like the idea of Y/n continuing to watch over and keep in contact with the people Nessie has impacted in some way. Nessie to Gregory and Cassie to whoever they inspire and have become their successors. And they got so much more they are looking forward to now. Knowing humans and sticking around them even digitally has its risks but I think it could be pretty grounding. They have even more dates to look forward to aside from halloween. Which, will be fun to celebrate with Gregory and Cassie fam.
They can't wait to do some more living.
#*ends with direct thingie from lost episode* oh yeah Im so smurt#Last Goodbye and First Hello comic#I have to go write an essay now#yes those are scars on cassie she did not get away from the cryptid mimic unscathed#3 star fam#<- mostly HINTED at/referenced#my art#MDN art tag#cryptid sightings#cryptid sightings fanart#vampire!y/n#the lost episode#cryptid sightings the lost episode#glamrock freddy#fnaf vanessa#vanessa a.#fnaf vanessa a.#fnaf cassie#dcamv#daycare attendant multiverse#gregory fnaf#fnaf gregory#gregory fazbear#cryptid hunter!y/n#cryptid hunter y/n#tw blood#blood#cw blood#cw character death#character death
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Santa, Baby (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)
Author’s Note: Sooooooooo this fic was supposed to come on December 23, but I procrastinated with it and didn’t end up finishing it until yesterday, and I don’t want to wait until next year to post because I’d put money on it that I’d forget. And it’s still December, so it counts. Enjoy :)
Summary: You want to do something on the sexier side to surprise Matt at Christmastime, but you don’t know how he’d take it. When Matt takes an unexpected night off from vigilantism, you put your plan into motion.
Warnings: Fluff (established couple, soft domestic sweetness, kisses), smut (holiday themed sexy outfits, oral - m and f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie), swearing
Other Characters: Karen Page (Karen x Frank)
Word Count: 3,809
“Hey,” you say with a smile as you open the door, the office of Nelson, Murdock, and Page on the air of the quiet side of things for what you know has been a busy week for the trio.
“Angel, what are you doing here?” Matt smiles, taking a few steps forward from Karen’s desk to meet you in the middle of the reception area.
“I cut work early to run some errands and I was passing by, so I thought I’d pop up,” you hum, placing a quick, sweet kiss on his lips.
“Well, I don’t want to be a bummer, but I gotta go to court soon for a discovery hearing.”
“It’s okay, Matt. I actually came here to ask Karen a question.”
Surprised little “oh”s escape both of their lips, turning toward one another one shock.
“I guess I’ll leave you to it. See you at home, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Matty. You’ll do great,” you say with a kiss to his cheek, waiting as he grabs his jacket and makes it out of the office.
“So what’s up?” Karen asks with a smile as she sits on her desk, and you move to match her body language.
“Well, I had an idea, but I don’t know if I should see it through,” you explain. “See, I wanted to do something for Matt for Christmas, but I don’t know if he’d get his knickers in a twist. I mean, I already got his present—which has been hell to hide from Mr. Super Senses—but I want to do a little something more for him.”
“Like what?”
You feel your cheeks burn hot, suddenly a little embarrassed. You don’t know why you are—you’ve talked to Karen about this kind of stuff plenty of times before, and she has to you. You just have that kind of bond and friendship.
“Well, there was a really cute Santa babydoll dress that I was thinking of getting, but I don’t know if that’d be weird for Matt—making Christmas sexy like that.”
“He’s never hinted around anything in that sphere?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I guess I can understand where that might be an odd thing on different fronts. Making something that shouldn’t be sexy sexy, and then the religious element.”
“So it’s a bad idea then, huh?”
“Maybe that one specifically, but I’m sure there’s another. It’s fun to do sexy holiday things like that. Frank and I love doing them.”
“You do?” you smirk.
“That’s a story for another time with lots of wine,” she laughs. “But I’d look for other options, you know? If anything, Christmas and Valentine’s Day are perfect for something like that because of the softer fabrics, and I know Matt has a thing about that. Just poke around. I can even go shopping with you, if you want.”
“I’ll browse, and if I can’t find anything, we can look together. I’m assuming you’re trying to do something with Frank?”
She blushes deeply. “Yeah. But he doesn’t have a thing too much about Santa, so maybe send me the link for that babydoll?”
You laugh loudly in the quiet office. “Sure thing, Kare.”
As you dry the dishes from dinner, you feel Matt slip his arms around your middle, pressing you flush against his back and holding you close, his chin on your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck.
“I think I’m gonna stay in tonight,” Matt whispers against your skin. “It’s chilly out.”
“The Devil is scared of a little wind chill?” you smile, trying and failing to turn around in Matt’s grip from behind.
“He likes it a little warmer.“
“Poor thing,” you pout, craning your head to the side, giving him a kiss on the side of the nose. “You’d never survive New England winters.”
“Good thing we live in the best city in the world.”
“You know what I think?”
“Lay it on me, sweetheart.”
“I think my big strong devil is a snuggly, needy, softy. In all the best ways.”
“Me? Needy?”
“We’re all a bit needy, Matty. You, for example, need me.”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” he smiles, letting you turn around in his grip, holding the side of his face and kissing him properly.
“Well, I need you, too, so we’re perfect for one another. And, you’re my human radiator. Blankets don’t stand a chance against my man.”
“Can I get that in writing?” he smiles, his hands on your waist spinning you around to he can give you a kiss.
“Sure thing, baby,” you mutter against his lips.
“Let me put these away.”
“Dish duty is on me tonight. Don’t mess with the system, Matty.”
“Can the system go out the window for one night?”
“My creature of habit wanting to throw routine out of the window?”
“C’mon, angel.”
You lean forward once more, your lips meeting softly once more as you moan into the kiss.
“Okay,” you whisper, running your hands down his arms, moving from between the kitchen counter and his body and onto the couch.
Grabbing your laptop off of the coffee table, you whip it open and weed through your emails, deleting the copious and redundant notifications from different stores regarding sales, special memberships, and the like. Shortly after, Matt makes his way from the kitchen to the seat next to you, returning your computer to where you initially picked it up before he slides you into his lap.
“Hi sweetheart,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your neck.
“Hi Matty,” you hum, snuggling into him. “What do you want to do tonight?”
“What do you want to do? We can pop in a movie, play a game—.”
“You didn’t bring any work home?” you ask, surprised that’s night is completely free—including his Deviling duties.
“Not tonight. I wanted to focus just on you tonight.”
“Mm, that’s sweet.”
“What do you have in mind for tonight, angel?”
You let out a sigh as you rest your head on his shoulder, thinking about the different cozy home activities you could do together when a thought crosses your mind.
“I guess tonight is a good of night as ever,“ you hum.
“Angel?”
“I have an idea, but it’s a surprise.”
“You’ve managed to keep a surprise a secret?”
“Rude,” you chuckle, kissing his cheek as you move to turn and straddle his lap. “You stay right there, Mr. Murdock. And you swear to me on my boobs that you won’t use your senses to try and ruin my surprise.”
“You want me to swear on your boobs?”
“You know you love them. Swear on their softness that you won’t spoil the surprise.”
With a cheeky smirk, he spreads his large hands against your waist.
“I swear I won’t—,” he says into your right boob through your sweater with a kiss, mirroring the action on the other breast, “—ruin your surprise.”
“Thank you,” you hum, running your fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead before you get up, moving to the bedroom and closing the sliding door. Moving to your side of the bed, you pull out a box from underneath mattress, moving to slide on the satin bra and panty set you got from a local boutique. With the bra straps on properly, you tie the long satin tails that act as cups into a nice big bow, mimicking the motion for the ties that are on the hips of the matching panties. Whipping your head up and down to revitalize your hair from the day, you take a deep breath before you open the door, expecting to see Matt on the sofa.
“Matt?” you call as you move into the living space, looking around as you try to find where your boyfriend disappeared to into the apartment. “Matt, where ar—?”
“I need you to help me figure something out, sweetheart. Were you naughty or nice this year?”
Turning around in the dark apartment, your eyes finally focus at the top of the roof access staircase. In all his glory, Matt leans with a smirk against the old brick, bare chested with Santa pants of all things hanging low on his hips, the suspenders on the waist leaning haphazardly down, while a red fuzzy hat sits on his head.
“Your heart rate is telling me you might have made the naughty list this year, angel,” he says as his smirks grows, slowly descending the steps.
“N-No,” you stutter. “I’m just . . . Surprised by the outfit.”
“Why?”
The incoherent stutters that fall from your lips only make Matt laugh as he makes his way over to you, resting his hands on your waist and pulling you in for a kiss before resting his forehead on yours.
“Too much?” he whispers, his thumbs moving back and forth on your skin.
“No, not at all,” you tell him. “Like I said, I’m just surprised.”
“Why?” he tries again.
“I didn’t know how you’d be about sexy Santa. Actually, I didn’t know how you’d feel about making anything Christmas related sexy.”
“Well, it’s a little odd. The pants are really nice and soft, though. And, the way I look at it, we’re not making the root of Christmas sexy, just a commercial element sexy. Now, let Santa unwrap his gift,” he whispers, his voice at a dangerously rich and gravely timbre, his hands slipping down over the globes of your ass, squeezing the exposed flesh.
“Mm, but I thought patience helps you get on the nice list?” you hum as you begin to place slow kisses onto his chest, pulling him by his dangling suspenders to keep him close as you step back toward the bedroom. “Patience is a virtue, after all.”
“Virtue, suggestion,” he chuckles, moving his hands up to the side of your face to kiss you. “Please?”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you smile against his lips as he lies you down on the mattress, pillows at your head. “Open me up, Matty.”
“Mm, thank you, sweetheart,” he hums, his large hands gliding across the surface of your thighs and spreading you open, allowing him to get closer into your body. As his hands move up, his thumbs swipe against the satin of my bra. “It’s such a pretty bow. Hate to ruin it.”
“I can guarantee you, the things underneath it are prettier and softer.”
Matt lets out a soft “Ah”, his smile growing wide on his tender expression before he kisses you, pressing soft embraces down from your lips to your neck, and finally to your chest before his teeth take hold of the ribbon’s tail and gently tug it undone. You let out a little gasp, partially from the cool air of the loft, partially from the way the satin drags along the sensitive skin. Instead of using his hands like you expect, Matt nuzzles his nose against the fleshy mounds, placing little kisses all over the supple skin. You moan softly as he embraces your breasts, leaving no centimeter of the skin untouched, his lips desperately chasing the fatty flesh as it moves around. You gasp when you feel his large, calloused fingers graze the side of your breast as his mouth catches the other one between his lips, sucking at the nipple.
“So good, Matty,” you whine, the hot breath through his nose fanning over your chest as he opens his eyes and tilts his head up, working to lock eyes with yours. The Santa hat remains on his head, but only slightly. “Baby . . .”
Matt slowly pulls off of your nipple, moving to leave wet kisses all over the rest of your chest and up your neck.
“Can I unwrap the rest of my gift, angel?” he gravels, his beard scratching against your skin.
“Of course, Matty. But there’s something I’d like to do first?”
Wrapping your legs around his waist, you switch your positions on the mattress, letting the bra slide down your arms and off of your body. As you flick it to the side, you move down Matt’s body, grazing your fingertips along his pants, slowly moving to peel them off of his body. He lifts his hips up in an effort to help, letting you slide the velvety fabric off so it can join your bra on the floor. But before you can bend down and take hold of Matt’s rock-hard cock, he stops you.
“Hold on, angel,” Matt hushes. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion as he twists to the side and rummages through his bedside drawer. When he lays his back back down, you have to work not to laugh at the sight before your eyes.
“You are a stupendous dork,” you laugh, your smile so bright it lessens your view of him.
“What? It’s Christmas rules—kiss what’s under the mistletoe,” he smirks as he dangles a fake sprig of the weed over his semi-hard cock.
“Well, I can’t upset Christmas rules,” you chuckle, kissing his tip and all the way down to the base, repeating the motions all over his length. Somewhere in your process, the mistletoe doesn’t get held as high before it’s eventually on the ground with out other pieces of clothes.
“(Y/N),” he breathes.
“Yeah, Matty?” you murmur against his base by the patch of small, dark curls on his skin. “Can I suck you off, Matty? There’s no more mistletoe.”
“I need your lips around me, angel. Please.”
With a long lick, you bring your lips back up to the tip and slowly take him in your mouth, having to be conscious of his girth. Each bob of my head brings you down a bit farther on his length until you’re roughly an inch and a half shy of taking him all the way.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so good,” he praises as he gathers up your hair, making sure you don’t swallow any of your locks as you go up and down. “So good for me, angel.”
The head of his cock his the soft flesh of the back of your throat, coating it with his salty precum, the movements only making you gag slightly. He helps you create opportunities to readjust as you go down on him, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable as you work. As you breathe through your nose, you bring your hands down to fondle Matt’s heavy sack, making sure he’s thoroughly taken care of. Between your hand and your mouth, you can feel every last ridge and vein that will bring Matt pleasure, and you briefly wonder if this is even a fraction of what Matt feels—being able to sense every last thing around him. Maybe you just know his body well enough. Whatever it may be, Matt guides you up and off of him by your hair, allowing a long line of saliva to connect from his dick to your chin. He pulls you into a a deep kiss, the embrace wet, needy, and sloppy with passion. As you straddle his waist while out tongues go back and forth, you can’t help but grind into his gorgeously defined muscles, spreading the slick pooling in your satin panties all over the fabric. Matt’s hands slide down to the globes of your ass, squeezing the flesh before giving both cheeks a firm smack, the sound echoing in the spacious bedroom as the sting spreads across your skin. You bite down on his lip as you kiss as response, which only makes Matt moan into your mouth, repeating the movement with his hands once more before he leans forward, your back returning to the mattress while his hands slide around to spread your legs wide.
“Do you want me to eat with your panties on, angel?” he teases as he kisses and marks up your inner thighs. “Would you like that, angel? Or do you want my mouth on your pussy and my fingers in you?”
“It wouldn’t be much of a present if you didn’t unwrap the rest of it,” you hum, biting your bottom lip as you watch him worship your inner thighs.
Dragging his fingertips up the sides of your legs, he finds the bows and pulls them undone, his hands sliding your hips up so you’re slightly off of the mattress. He grasps your panties with his teeth and slides it away from your body, only briefly removing his hands from your legs to take the fabric and throw it aside. His large, calloused digits are quick to move back between your legs, two of his fingers grazing and expertly parting your soaked lips. Matt brings his mouth close to your core, enough for you to practically feel his lips on you, only for him to hover just far enough away from you. He lets out a shallow breath from his mouth, pulling a sound that is part wanton moan, part erotic pornography sounds from you, as he coats your heat with his. When he is satisfied with his work, his lips wrap right around your swollen clit, gently sucking as his tongue slips in every now and then while he works.
“Fuck,” you choke out as he devours you, his beard tickling and scratching at your thighs. “Matthew!”
He just hums into you, sliding two fingers into your core while his other hand wraps around your hips to keep you down as your body begins to writhe and buck uncontrollably. He moans into your dripping cunt, which only makes you cry out into the room louder. Matt moves his tongue and mouth faster while his fingers tickle and scratch your inner spongy walls as his mouth rips a violent orgasm from you. You scream out at the top of your lungs as your body arches off the mattress, an entire sheen of sweat spreading over your skin as Matt relentlessly drags out your orgasm until the contracting muscles of your uterus physically hurt.
“Matty, Matty, oh God, Matt,” you groan, sounding like a woman possessed as he pulls his fingers out of you and releases your clit from his mouth, a line of slick connecting your core to his lips before licking his fingers clean and giving the swollen bundle of nerves a few gentle kisses. Matt places a few kisses on your inner thighs before going straight up your body and to your lips, holding your face in his hands as you kiss one another deeply and passionately.
“More, Matty,” you moan into his lips, pulling at his bottom lip between your teeth. “This gift isn’t over til you cum, baby.”
Matt laughs so warm and happily, it’s like the sun is in the bedroom.
“Whatever you say, angel. You are the gift giver, after all,” he affirms, his lips puckering all along your collarbone.
“Tell me how you want it, Matt. What position do you want, Matty?”
Matt licks a long line up your neck to the shell of your ear, his Santa hat no longer perched atop his head.
“I want you under me, on your back, your legs as far up as they can go, while I fuck you over and over,” Matt whispers in your hear, his voice deep and seductive in its commanding tone. “Can you do that for me, angel?”
“Yes, Matthew,” you breathe.
“Good girl,” he tells me with a harsh squeeze on my hips, his hands sliding back around your legs and bringing them as high up and as close to your chest as your body will allow. Matt slaps his cock repeatedly on your slick, swollen lips before he holds his dick steady as he pushes in, the angle of your legs making everything tighter and making you feel everything on a new level, making the feeling so extraordinary and increasing the pleasure. Bent in half like this, Matt easily hits your back wall and has no problem pounding into you over and over once he gets the angle just right. His strong arms help hold your legs in place, his hands cradling your neck, thumb on your cheeks as he brings his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply and repeatedly as he hits the special spongey spot in you again and again. Your hands grip his muscly arms, pressing little red and angry half-moon shapes of your fingernails into his fair and hairy skin.
“So fucking good, angel,” he grunts into your mouth. “Fuck, s’tight and wet.”
“God, you’re so big!” you whine.
“God isn’t here, angel. Just me, my cock, and your tight cunt.”
“Ma—aahhh! Just like that, Matty, right there!”
The way that Matt’s pelvis slams into the back of your thighs is insane, hitting every right spot over and over again as you start to see stars.
“Sounds like you’re close again, angel,” he grunts. “Are you gonna cum for me again?”
“Mmm!” you whine.
“Words, babygirl.”
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you cry out.
“Squeeze my cock, angel. Cum for me.”
With one more hard thrust in just the right spot, you have another earth-shattering orgasm at the hands of your boyfriend. His grunts and the way his hips begin to falter tell you that he’s not going to last much longer if he keeps snapping his hips like that.
“S-Stay inside me,” you beg, holding onto his shoulders. “Fu—Cum inside me.”
Matt’s face contorts, his mouth hanging open and his brows furrowing in pleasure as he moans loudly, hitting deep and releasing his large load. You lie on the bed panting, impossibly close to one another as you both come back down to earth from your cosmic highs.
“Holy shit,” you breathe before you tilt your chin up and press a kiss to his pink, swollen lips.
“I know,” he chuckles with a little grin.
With a few more kisses, he leans back and pulls out to unfold you. As he does, you can feel his cum dribble out of your hole.
“Fuck, that smells nice, you and me together like that” Matt breathes as his thumbs rubs back and forth on your legs. “You’re so beautiful, angel.”
“You’re not bad yourself, there, Murdock.” Taking his hand in yours, you pull him back down on the mattress with you. “Did you like your gift?”
“I loved it,” he smiles, rolling into you for a kiss.
“I mean, I still have an actual gift for you, not just amazing sex.”
“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” he teases. “I love you.”
“I love you more. But I do have a question, though.”
“Mm?”
“Do you think we just got ourselves put on the naughty list for all of that?”
The room is silent before you both burst out in laughter and snuggle into one another.
“I think an exception can be made for us—we were doing something nice for one another.”
“A lawyer through and through, you are.”
“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”
“Merry Christmas, Matt.”
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#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock smut#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock fanfiction#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x fem!reader fluff#matt murdock x fem!reader smut#matt murdock x fem!reader fanfic#matt murdock x fem!reader fanfiction#daredevil#daredevil x reader#daredevil fanfiction#daredevil fanfic#daredevil x fem!reader#daredevil netlfix#daredevil disney+#marvel#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction
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Sunsets and footballers (Part 69)
Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (12)
Masterlist (other parts here)
Join our WOSO Discord chat! Link in bio :)
((**2.3k**))
Immediately following Part 65 with Leah and Jordan.
((**Sorry for the lack of posting. Life and... procrastination getting in the way. I'll try to post more, starting with smaller chapters. Much love! Jae.**))
Leah POV
Leah woke to excited kisses on her face, expressed with an overeager tongue. She chuckled herself awake as Blu attacked her in a way she hadn’t experienced in a while. She turned her head away but he persisted.
“Alright, alright, I’m up Blu.” She said, sitting from where she’d been lying in YFN’s bed. They’d almost fallen asleep on the couch, but her cramps and Jordan’s empathetic looking after her had kept them awake until the end of the movie. They’d both reluctantly parted ways, but at least she was allowed to stay over. She took the win with that.
“You’re such a pain, you are,” she teased as she pet Blu. He rolled onto his back, his short legs bent as he offered his belly for her to rub. He always did love belly rubs. “Argh, I missed you.” She groaned into his belly as she kissed him.
She heard footsteps in the kitchen and yelled out. “Did you send him in here?!”
Jordan poked her head into the room with a smirk. She was always so happy in the mornings, no matter how tired she may have felt. “Well he couldn't reach the door handle by himself, Lea.”
“You little sneak,” she replied with a grin.
“Breakfast?”
“Yes please, I’ll be out in a minute.”
She shrugged. “Take your time, the shower is right there. It’ll be good for your body…”
For her endo.
Leah nodded in a grateful agreement from where she was half-sitting up, still rubbing Blu’s belly. “Thanks Jord.”
She showered making sure to soak in the warm water and when she returned to YFN’s bedroom, a few of Leah’s old clothes were on the bed. Clothes she hadn’t seen in over a year. Her heart sunk knowing that Jordan had kept them this entire time. She put her old clothes on and smelled them. It smelled like the laundry liquid they use to use when they lived together in London. She made her way out to the kitchen where Jordan was plating up breakfast.
“Good timing! I was just finishing,” she smiled and then paused with the spatula in her hand at the question on Leah’s face. She sighed. “I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out. I have a few more of your clothes if you’d like me to pack them up for you.”
The offer made her heart sink even further. “No… no you keep them.” She replied quickly and then followed up with an excuse. “I mean, who knows, I might need them for another sleepover if I’m lucky.”
“If you’re lucky,” she murmured as her attention went back to plating up the food. Leah couldn’t help but see the satisfied look on her face from her answer though – like she wanted to keep her clothes.
They sat at the dining room table.
“Oh, I forgot the cutlery,” Jordan said as she put their plates down.
“I’ve got it.” Leah collected the silverware from the kitchen and was about to return as Blu hopped excitedly towards her. Seeing him so eager to play with her and actually remember her was everything to Leah. She faked a jump towards him and then ran around the kitchen counter, Blu in pursuit with his tiny legs. Jordan laughed amusedly from the table.
“He’s actually catching me!” Leah exclaimed.
“He’s gotten quicker!”
She let him chase her around the island a few times until Blu began to wear out and that’s when she let him catch her. She faked falling down and he leapt on her with more kisses. It was perfect.
She sat up and kissed and pet him as if making up for lost time. “I really, really missed him.” She admitted. Leah was always stoic, always had her emotions in check. Only with Jordan had she ever properly opened up, and for the past year, she’d closed that emotional side out to deal with not having her around. And so it was hard for her to open up, to admit her feelings, to admit she missed him and Jordan and their life, but she did it because she trusted that her vulnerable self would be safe with her. It always had been, even before they were together.
“Do you want to see him more?” Jordan asked. Leah looked up from her place on the ground. What exactly was she offering?
“I’d like to see you both more.”
“I’d like that too, but Lea, I… I need time.”
Jordan was sticking up for herself. She was proud of her.
“I know, Jord. Take as much time as you need – I’m here to stay. Whatever you want, whatever you need.”
Jordan played with the eggs on her plate. “It’s a bit harder now that we’re in different cities…”
Leah knew she was looking for reassurance. “YFN and Lucy do just fine in different countries.”
“They’ve been through a lot in a small amount of time,” she sighed, suddenly empathetic for them. Jordan was always the one who felt more and wasn’t afraid to show it. “Lucy messaged me this morning. She’s organising a surprise party for YFN’s birthday.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, she sort of threw out the idea of us both going to London today to meet up with them.”
“YFN won’t be suspicious? It is a ‘surprise’ party, right?”
“Yeah, but Lucy has worked it so she’ll be busy all day with players and things, which will give her a chance to chat to them all while she’s distracted. Something about us going into the Lumos office?”
“Oh, she was saying she had that pencilled in for this week sometime… wait, was it Lucy who invited the girls over to their house last night?”
Jordan smirked. “Yeah, she’s so sneaky. She had a few of the girls ask YFN about interviews and photos, and then suggest today because it’s everyone’s day off after the matches yesterday.”
“The confidence of that woman. How sneaky,” she agreed.
“I think she has to be to avoid YFN finding out. She’s really good at picking up on things,” she smiled at her plate.
Leah wondered at her expression. “Do you miss her being around?”
Jordan nodded. “Yeah, but I know London is best for her right now. I do wonder if she’ll come back to Birmingham and live when she’s healed. I hope she does. She’s really good to be around. She makes me a better person, and she’s always there for me.” She cleared her throat as if she’d opened up too much. Her eyes met Leah’s and just as quickly flickered away.
“What about your birthday?” Leah murmured. It was also coming up soon, just a week after YFN’s.
“It’s a joint birthday that Lucy is planning. She knows YFN and I would both love that. And I’m not too fussed on surprises…”
Jordan distracted herself by pushing the food around her plate, though Leah knew that look on her face. She was turning 31 and didn’t want to admit how it made her feel.
Leah reached out hesitantly and laid her hand over Jordan’s. She paused her actions and stared at their hands, smiling smally. They both knew what it meant.
“Lea… do you want to go to Lumos today with me?”
“Yeah… yeah alright,” Leah chuckled nervously, not expecting the offer. More time with Jordan.
“I’ll text YFN…” Jordan said as she withdrew her hand and typed the message.
“Do you have training tomorrow? You can stay the night if you’d like.”
Their eyes met and they both spoke without words. Were they ready for that? Another night together? Should she stay at Lucy and YFN’s or Katie and Caitlin’s instead? Would it be too much to be in Leah’s apartment again? Jordan’s phone dinging broke their thoughts.
“Oh… it’s a pet party. She going to do a whole lot of interviews with everyone’s dogs and cats. She asked if we could bring Blu-” Jordan said, ending the sentence abruptly at the face that she said ‘we could bring Blu’ and not ‘I could bring Blu.’ Leah felt like her heart was simultaneously healing, and feeling like it might explode all at once. Jordan looked up at her. “Can Blu stay too?”
Leah was nodded before she ended the sentence. “Of course he can. I think we should bring one of his little outfits to wear for the interview too.”
“Well we do want him to be comfy, right?” She teased.
Leah did the dishes while Jordan packed her overnight bag and clothes for the interview. During that time, YFN had called for an ETA, and during the conversation had offered for Lucy and YFN to drop Jordan at her house on their way through to Manchester the next day, to save Jordan the drive. She sounded a bit flustered with the last minute chaos that was unknowingly instigated by Lucy, but she tended to work quickly and efficiently, so they both knew the call was because she didn’t have time to text.
“See you two soon! Love you!”
They packed the car, moving symbiotically like they used to. Leah packed YFN’s things, Jordan packed her clothes, Leah went back for Blu and his things while Jordan did another once over through the apartment to make sure nothing was left behind or left on. Then, they were on their way. Leah’s country music began to play through the speakers and she was caught unawares, fiddling with the buttons to change it. Jordan caught her fingers with her own.
“It’s okay, I miss this.” She smiled as she let her fingers stroke Leah’s reassuringly before letting go. Her skin felt it was tingling and she immediately wanted her to touch her again. The sudden closeness wasn’t at all unwelcome, though it did make Leah nervous in the best possible way. She had three more hours in a car with Jordan and another night together in her London apartment. The thought made her smile as they began to talk.
They drove straight to Leah’s apartment, only stopping once for Blu along the way, though he was good as usual and slept for most of the drive. It had been just like it was when they were together, though this time, Leah appreciated Jordan more. The way she spoke about things she loved, the way she misunderstood jokes, the way she sung, and way that she laughed. She despised herself for ever taking Jordan’s company for granted.
The worried tension that Leah held in her shoulders eased also, her not having realised that she’d been so on her game to make sure she didn’t make a mistake with her. Now it was back to the good old days. Just the two of them.
Leah drove them straight to her apartment where they unpacked and got changed for the media. She noticed Jordan trying to hide the fact that she was looking around to see if anything changed but it hadn’t. Leah made sure she’d kept her apartment the exact same as when they’d both furnished and rearranged it together. It never felt like home without her and so it made sense to her to keep it the same.
They arrived at Lumos to a car park ridiculously packed, with several cars they noticed. Someone guided them in and as soon as Leah had parked, they both looked at each other as if to say ‘what have we gotten ourselves into?’
A Lumos worker greeted them and led them to the entrance. They followed the sound and found the large, main room full of office desks there, though nobody was working. Everybody was standing, drinks in hands and food being walked around. It was like an office party. A very large office party. Since when did they have so many employees?
Many heads turned towards them, some they knew and some they didn’t, though none of the Lumos staff or players managed to beat Jen Beattie to the pair.
“O Captain, my Captain,” she grinned as she approached. “Jordy! How are you?”
Jen took them both into a hug at the same time and Leah enjoyed being pushed up against Jordan, her arm coming around her and lightly pressing her back. She looked down and saw her little smirk.
The three split as Beth shouted her way over.
“Hello you two! Y’alright?” She grinned and let Jordan know how much she missed her with a hug. “Has anyone give you the rundown?”
“No…” Jordan admitted.
Beth gave Jen a look.
“Hey, I barely had time for a hug before you smashed your way over.”
Beth took in a deep breath as if to prepare herself for a speech. “Alright well these are the offices and conference rooms, that one up the end is YFN’s but I don’t think she’s seen it yet… the company did it as a surprise but she’s been so bloody busy that I think Lucy rolled her right past it,” they laughed at the idea of Lucy pushing her wheelchair past it knowing how embarrassed she would have been, “and everybody is downstairs in the studio, so we’ll head down there.. everyone’s been waiting for you two you know! Let’s go!” She started walking. “Oh and the wall…” she pointed to the large purple wall covered in signatures made with yellow markers. Players upon players.
“…that’s so cool…” Jordan interrupted. Leah agreed. It was definitely something.
“…yeah YFN wants everyone to sign it so you can do that when you get back but for now let’s just go find the woman of the hour.”
Leah and Jen rolled their eyes at each other and laughed at Beth overeager as per usual. They followed her towards the music blaring from the basement not knowing what to expect, though whatever they expected couldn’t have exactly prepared them for the chaos of the Lumos content studio and the amount of players that were there.
“Oh… shit.” Jordan said with wide eyes as she reached out and clutched onto Leah's hand.
#woso#womens football#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso soccer#engwnt#lionesses#woso x reader#arsenal women#aston villa women#jordan nobbs#leah williamson
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request: “hi again! i loved the long day fic and wanted to send in another request. could you do a sethxreaderxpaul where the reader gets in a small argument with paul and she runs to seth and he comforts her and its a little tension between the boys til paul apologizes?”
warnings: angst??
word count: 2.05k
part 2 linked here
…
“y/n i’m not doing this right now.” paul threw his hands up exasperatedly before walking into the kitchen to grab his keys.
the two of you had gotten into it over the fact that you had run into your ex at a mutual friend’s house party and didn’t tell either of the boys about it. paul found out through your ex who had messaged him claiming that you professed your undying love for him which you and paul both knew was a lie.
unfortunately for you, paul was quite a jealous hothead at times. only this time it had resulted in your first real argument with him. “paul-” you started, not even sure how to argue with him anymore. he didn’t even bother looking back at you, just walked out the front door, slamming it on his way out.
you let out a heavy exhale, almost immediately bursting into tears after he left. you didn’t know where seth was and now had no clue where paul was off to either and for the first time since you had started dating the two of them, you felt alone.
not having any idea what to do, you just grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch, sobbing as you tried to figure out what to do. you didn’t even think it was possible for either one of them to get mad at you, let alone mad at you over something as trivial as your ex-boyfriend.
both boys knew that the imprint bond affected you more than the other imprints because of the fact that you had two imrpinters instead of just one. so it was no surprise when seth came running in about 30 minutes after paul had left.
seth barely closed the door before he was running over to you and scooping you up in his arms, “hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay,” seth cooed, allowing you to wrap your arms tightly around him, burying your face in the crook of his arm while sobs racked through you.
“shhhh…” he cooed, “promise everything is alright.” he reassured, pressing his lips to the crown of your head while you attempted to calm yourself and failed miserably.
“i promise nothing even happened.” you blubbered, sniffling as you looked up at seth, “he just got so mad and i didn’t know what to do and-” seth cut off your rambling, shushing you as he cupped your jaw with his free hand, gently thumbing away your tears.
“i know, i know.” he murmured, “i saw it in his head. you didn’t do anything wrong.” he reassured, attempting to figure out how to calm you down as your breaths got shorter and shorter the more you worked yourself up, “can you take some deep breaths for me?” he asked softly, eyes softening as he waited for you to nod and he sucked in a deep breath with you.
you held it for a moment before exhaling, attempting to focus on your breathing instead of how upset you were, “there you go pretty girl. take some deep breaths.” he cooed as you tried to process how something so trivial could hurt your heart so badly, “shhh…”
taking a few more deep breaths, you waited until your breathing had more or less evened out before looking back up at seth, “why is he so mad?” you whispered, bottom lip warbling as more tears threatened to spill.
seth just sighed, “he just gets jealous,” he explained softly, watching you wearily, “you know how he is sometimes. he’s not actually mad at you, i promise.”
you nodded, not sure what to even say, “why don’t we get you into your pajamas, yea? it’s late.” seth asked softly, and you shook your head, more tears running down your cheeks as you thought about going to sleep knowing paul was mad at you.
picking up on what you were thinking, seth quickly offered a solution, “don’t have to go to sleep yet, okay? jus’ think it might help you calm down a bit if you lay down. i’ll get you some water too.” he offered and you thought about it for a moment before nodding.
he got up with you then, carrying you into the bedroom, and gently sat you down on the edge of the bed, “you’re okay.” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he got up to grab your pajamas.
he came back over to you a few seconds later, helping you get changed into one of his t-shirts and sleep shorts, “why don’t we put something on for you to watch for a little bit?” he suggested as he pulled back the covers and helped you get under them.
sighing softly, you took the glass of water he offered you, taking a sip of it before you nodded. he offered you a sad smile, eyes softening when you sniffled again, curling into his side as you laid down with him. “there you go,” seth cooed as your breathing evened out again, gently rubbing his hand up and down your side soothingly.
“what did he say to you?” you whispered hoarsely, peeking at seth. he just sighed and pressed his lips to the crown of your head as he thought about his answer.
“he didn’t really say anything.” he explained softly before continuing, “i just saw the argument in his head. he just doesn’t like knowing that he wasn’t there when you ran into him.” he murmured, referencing the interaction you had with your ex-boyfriend.
“he doesn’t think you did anything with him.” he added and you nodded, another wave of silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. seth just let out another sigh, hugging you closer to him.
it went on like that for another hour or so, you just silently crying into seth’s chest while he tried to reassure you that everything was fine. “do you have some of that anxiety medication my mom gave you?” seth asked softly, figuring the meds sue had prescribed you would likely be able to help calm you down and help you fall asleep so you could get some much-needed rest.
you nodded, pointing to the side table, and seth grabbed the medicine bottle, handing two of the pills to you and then giving you your bottle of water so you could swallow them, “there you go pretty girl.” seth cooed, “you’re alright.” he murmured, holding you close to him as you took some more deep breaths. it only took about 15 minutes for the anxiety meds to kick in, your breathing evening out as you drifted off.
it seemed like you had only been out for a few minutes when you heard the front door open and close followed by the feeling of seth getting up from the bed. you rolled over, still half asleep when you heard paul and seth’s hushed voices from the living room.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?” seth asked paul, sounding much more irritated than you’d originally thought he was, “do you know upset you made her? you can’t do that to her-” seth continued before paul cut him off with a heavy sigh.
“i know, fuck, seth, believe me, i’m well aware.” paul responded, sounding much less mad than when you had last seen him a few hours ago but still frustrated nonetheless. it sounded like he took in a deep breath before he asked, “where is she?”
“she’s in the bedroom but there’s no way you’re going in there right now. she just fell asleep.” seth emphasized, “just - fuck - i don’t know paul.” he said exasperatedly, both men letting out heavy sighs.
there was a heavy pause before either of them said anything again, “i gave her some of her anxiety medicine about 20 minutes ago.” seth said softly, immediately shushing paul who sounded like he was about to make a scene over it seeing as he was never a fan of you taking any of that medicine, knowing how frustrated it usually made you feel. “she was practically having a panic attack over you. she’s been sobbing since you left and wasn’t calming herself down.” seth explained which seemed to calm paul down enough because you didn’t hear anything from seth for another few moments.
“if you go in there and she gets upset then you leave, okay? i am not staying up all night with her crying because you got jealous of her ex.” seth offered exasperatedly and you deduced that paul nodded because soon enough you heard their footsteps entering the room.
seth was the first to reach the bed, gently running his fingers through your hair and you let out a soft whimper, knuckling at your eyes blearily, “hey pretty girl,” seth cooed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple, “do you wanna talk to paul?” he asked softly, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he patiently waited for your answer.
you nodded, rubbing your eyes again as you sat up and saw paul standing in the doorframe frowning at you, “paul-” you whimpered, opening your arms as he quickly strode over to you, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he could pull you into his arms.
“‘m so sorry kitten.” paul murmured against your hair, gently rocking you as more tears rolled down your cheeks. you shifted so you could straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder in the process in an attempt to muffle your sobs.
“shhh… shhh…” paul cooed, “i’m sorry.” he whispered into your hair and you nodded against his shoulder, taking a few deep breaths and sniffling as you attempted to calm yourself down, the anxiety meds helping you a bit more than you’d originally thought they were.
“there you go.” he murmured, gently running his hand up and down your back and patiently waiting until you calmed down to speak. “are you okay?” he asked softly, cupping your face with his hand so he could gently prompt you to look up at him.
you nodded, sniffling, “you made my heart hurt.” you whispered and you swore you saw his eyes water, something you’d never seen from him before.
“i’m sorry.” he whispered back, allowing you to gently run your fingers up his chest, “i didn’t mean to hurt you.” he added, gently thumbing away the stray tears falling down your cheeks.
“i know.” you whispered, “don’t ever do that again please.” you added with a soft whimper and he nodded, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, both of you taking in a deep breath together, “can we go to bed? i just want today to be over.” you asked softly and paul nodded, taking another deep breath before he let you go, helping you get under the covers.
while paul got up to get changed into some clean clothes, seth gently ran his hand up and down your side from his spot seated next to you, “can you lay down with me too?” you whispered and he nodded, getting under the covers with you and allowing you to curl into his chest.
paul came back over a few moments later, getting under the covers with you two. you reached back, grabbing his hand and wrapping it around your waist so he was spooning you. “i love you.” you whispered, “both of you.” you added after a moment, both boys whispering it back to you.
“sleepy yet?” seth asked softly and you nodded, curling further into both boys. “go to sleep then, yea? you’ll feel better in the morning, i promise.” he reassured and you nodded, taking seth’s free hand to hold in your other hand.
finally feeling better, you started to feel sleep take over as you held both of their hands tightly. within a few minutes, you drifted off knowing you, paul, and seth were okay.
#poly!sethxreaderxpaul#poly!paulxreaderxseth#seth clearwater imagine#paul lahote imagine#seth clearwater#paul lahote#seth clearwater x reader#paul lahote x reader#seth clearwater blurb#paul lahote blurb#twilight#the twilight saga#twilight imagine#twilight blurb#sam uley#emily young#jared cameron#embry call#quil ateara#jacob black#edward cullen#carlisle cullen#esme cullen#bella cullen#bella swan#emmett cullen#rosalie hale#alice cullen#jasper hale#leah clearwater
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Keys guide to scam spotting (v2)
Hi! I’m Key (Or Jess depending on which blog you know me from) and I’ll be telling you some better information and detail on how to spot a scam account be it a pet scam or a donation scam. All information is based on my own experiences and I’ll try to keep this post accessible so the only big text is the title. This information should help in understanding how these scams work and how to spot them without having to do too much work. As always, if you appreciate what I do and want to show it, sharing these info posts helps other users see it and learn about blogs that might send them asks.
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What is a donation scam? - A donation scam is when someone is being deceptive to get money by claiming they need mutual aid or support. For example, they are using the story from someone else’s fundraising post in order to get donations and won’t tell anyone their lying. This is called a donation scam. While the story may be legitimate, it is a story stolen off someone else and means the real person isn’t getting the support they asked for because someone else is using it. These stories are often stolen off Facebook/GoFundMe or even Instagram and could come from a private account or group so searching wouldn’t come up with a source. The images may also be stolen from somewhere else too.
How do you spot a donation scam? - Donation scams are usually easily spotted if you take a closer look at the information being given. Stolen stories will often have certain parts removed and replaced with the information the scammer added themselves. Sometimes the post may be composed of two different parts and won’t sound right if you pay close attention. For example, part of the story sounds fine but then the second part of the story seems out of place and doesn’t match up with the beginning. Another thing to check is how old the account is and if you have timestamps on you can see if an older post is backdated. You can also check to see if the account has tagged certain blogs in their post though this isn’t always a sign of a scam.
What is post backdating? - Post backdating is changing the dates of a reblogged post to look older then it really is. While this can be used with good intentions, scammers often use this to trick people into thinking their account is years old or even a few months old. The one way to find this is by turning on timestamps in dashboard settings and checking ‘other notes’ in reblogs. This is the only way to see the true date something was shared. Accounts who backdate posts will often claim someone told them to do it or they’ll say they didn’t know it was bad. However, you can not accidentally backdate a post.
Did the account contact you first? - A common occurrence is that you will get scam asks if you share a popular or trending post. Usually these accounts send asks to anyone they find without care of who it is and might lie as well if you ask them how they found you. In general, a brand new account shouldn’t easily find you unless they were watching the notes of popular posts. Occasionally these new accounts will even send asks to certain accounts they shouldn’t know about unless they have seen the account before. If your DMs are closed, the ask may ask you to message them because it’s urgent but all they will do is ask for money or ask you to loan them some money.
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What is a pet donation scam? - A pet donation scam is where someone has went and looked around for vet fundraisers online and then took it for themselves by saving the images and story while erasing any links that would lead to the real pet getting support. They will then repost it to tumblr and say it’s actually their pet needing urgent care with the post title being very large and in red text for a sense of urgency. Sometimes they’ll say they can’t use GoFundMe because it has a fee or something else. This is a scam because they are not the owner of the pet and have stolen everything meaning no funds sent will be towards the actual pets care.
How do you spot a pet donation scam? - A common way of a pet donation scam is by how old the pinned post is and how many posts are reblogged on the account. Usually there is only a few posts shared and always shared around the same time and then no more. These posts all come from a trending topic, a fandom, or are popular posts. Another thing is checking the bio in Google search and seeing if it’s been took from someone else as the scammer never makes their own bio. Reverse image search their pfp to see who it really belongs to in case they stole it. Another important thing is to check their link and see if it matches up with the vet bill. Since most pictures are stolen off a private group, reverse image search won’t find them. The name they may have is likely not their real name and is stolen.
Did the account send you an ask? - Regardless of what the ask says, it usually requests you to answer it privately or message them so they can tell you thanks. These asks may have several emojis in them as well but their always just copy/pasted and sent to multiple users all at once on a daily basis. The private answer is so the ask won’t show up if someone is looking it up. If their post is public, there shouldn’t be a reason to need a private response to an ask you have sent to many people unless you are trying to hide it. Messaging these accounts is useless because they’ll lie to you when you ask them questions back or just ignore you.
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What is a fake check scam? - A fake check scam is when a generally blank account with no pfp will message you after you used certain tags and ask you if you still need help. Even if you have links to send support, these accounts will ignore that in order to ask for your personal information such as phone number or banking details. They will then offer to send you a check. This is a fake check and cashing it won’t be scamming the scammer. You will lose money instead and the scammer will already move on to someone else. Never give them your private information.
Are there any other scam types? - When you tag posts, you’ll often get messages from accounts claiming they can help you get more attention on your campaign but you have to pay them money or go off-site to contact them. These are fake support accounts and they always use stock images while pretending to be officially affiliated and act like their Digital Marketing title means their not trying to scam you. They get defensive when called out and may start insulting you when they figure out you are already aware they aren’t legitimate.
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What is a funeral donation scam? - A funeral donation scam is when an account posts saying someone has passed away but the images they used are actually took from someone else and may be photoshopped. Bills may be edited to suit their story and names may be changed to someone else’s. This isn’t a real common scam! But it’s happened a lot lately but the basics are the account will steal someone’s pictures and pass them off as theirs and when caught will say they were forced to or know it’s wrong but did it anyway.
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In closing, this is information regarding common scam types you’ll find on tumblr. It’s always suggested to pay close attention to asks you get it they fit the criteria of being sent from a scammer. Answer the asks publicly and call out the blog. The scammer may block you as a result, but it’ll help your ask be seen it someone has looked it up. I suggest never spamming asks to share your pinned aid post because unfortunately scammers do this and you shouldn’t ignore people saying to please stop spamming. Always check to see if someone is comfortable getting these kinds of asks too because it won’t look too good if you have sent them an ask when they say please don’t.
As always, not everyone asking for support is a scammer! Legitimate people are out there. It’s just unfortunate scammers have made it harder for them to get help. You can always do your own research and compare it to what others have given and come to your own conclusion.
#scam#donation scam#pet donation scam#how to spot a scam blog#psa#important information#long post#longpost#pet scam
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I DNF'd Mistorn: Here's Why
Disclaimer: You asked for this. Let me start there. Don't get mad at me, Mistborn lover. If you clicked on this link, and that means you are taking the dagger into your own hand. The wound is self-inflicted!
I did not finish Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson. I know, I know, its actually called The Final Empire. The name Mistborn has stuck with so many readers for a reason, so I'll continue to use it as a shorthand. The book didn't work for me, but I think WHY it didn't work for me might be interesting to read about, especially for fellow authors.
If you have read and enjoyed the Mistborn books, or any work by Brandon Sanderson, I'm delighted. I want to applaud any work of fiction that brings people joy (so long as it or its author is not reprehensible in some way (he said, covering his ass)). I don't want you to think this is me taking shots at you or at Sanderson. I'm just talking about a work of fiction and what it did to my brain.
Believe me when I tell you I have no delusions about being some high-handed minister of good taste. You should see some of the anime I watch to destress at the end of a long day trying to be a self-published author, editor, and, well, just an ordinary semi-functioning human being.
I've read many, many books and loved them, only to come back to them later and find they were … less deserving of my matured tastes. Sometimes books meet us at the right time. If Mistborn was, or is, one such book for you, I would be a jerk and a fool if I tried to tell you that you were wrong for liking it. That isn't what this is. But, if you're at all curious why I didn't like it the way you did, here are my thoughts.
Instead of trying to construct some long elaborate essay, I've decided to present my reading notes as I was writing them. If you're at all familiar with my SPFBO9 opening reads thread, this is in a similar, though much protracted style. This is my travelogue of the first few chapters. If these notes are rough or feel stilted in places, I'm sorry. I DNF'd the book a few months ago, and I found in trying to clean up my notes that I was making up commentary to fill in gaps and I don't think that's fair. I've tried to provide some context where I could.
Pages referenced are from the first mass market edition, published August 2007 by Tor
My Notes:
Starts well enough. Interesting introduction to the fantastic elements of the environment (the ash fall) and the enslavement of the skaa. Some neat 2nd world titles “obligator,” etc.
Not great, not riveting, but competent introduction of world and one protagonist, Kelsier.
He doesn't know what to do with Vin, though. Disconnect between the characters as we're told they are and their actions. Lacking coherent motivation.
(P.5)The slave that stands and stares defiantly sending a chill through the lord so-and-so is a bit melodramatic. Both actions struck me as over the top.
(writing note)…too many “of courses”
The writing is competent and descriptive. The Mist at night is another interesting setting detail.
(p.6) I immediately dislike Kelsier. “I’ll have to cure them of that (fear of the mist) some day.” This is has an unsympathetic arrogance about it. If this is also the man who stared defiantly at lord-so-and-so, hes blasé about endangering these people, and seems to look down on them, much like lord-so-and-so. I suspect this impression is not intentional. I suspect I’m supposed to think him strong and clever. We’ll see.
(7) rolling his eyes at these people. This seems intentional. But it’s also annoying.
(10) beatings beatings beatings. These “peasants” and their daily beatings. Did I mention the beatings? Their lives are harsh! There are beatings!
(‘) what is this talk about Tepper “leading” the skaa? Leading them how? They’re slaves! What decisions are they making? No, really. What is this forced little conflict? It’s pointless.
(‘) “How do you do that?” “What?” “Smile all the time” - there’s no reason for him to ask this. It’s unmotivated dialogue. How do you smile all the time? How? No. Why, sure. “You keep smiling. Is something about our home funny to you?”
(19-20, ch.1) I’m having trouble with Sandersons storytelling. This is coming across as heavy handed and simplistic. Here’s Vin. She was betrayed. There are betrayals. This boy who came to get her who’s nice enough will also betray her. But the ash is free…
I wonder if we’re going to slowly work through the alphabet section by section. Ash, then beatings and betrayal… who knows what could be next? Crime? I bet it’s crime.
Also - Reen’s sayings and betrayal. I think in general I find it a bit affected when we meet a character and they’re immediately thinking of their backstory … but that’s probably not fair of me. I think what comes across as affected is Sandersons execution. There’s a very light fiction - YA quality about Vin’s angsty introduction. I might have loved it if I read it at 14, but not now.
I’d like to think of an example of what would be more appealing to me - the introduction of a character with similar enough circumstances… Actually, Gideon the 9th might be a good example. We get to hear Gideon’s voice in the prose and the dialogue and get a strong sense of her character as well as the specific and very interesting world building details of how she got into the 9th house. Here, Reen’s betrayal is left completely unexplored, and so I wonder why bring it up at all except for that cheap YA punch in the gut of “my brother betrayed me and now I’m here.”
Maybe Sanderson felt some necessity to move faster here. He wanted to get to the city theiving … but it isn’t working for me, so obviously I think it was a mistake. Obviously he was hoping this would create a sense of anticipation that we would eventually find out HOW Vin’s brother betrayed her, but because he leads with it and then doesn’t explain it, it makes it seem like it doesn’t really matter HOW Vin was betrayed, what’s important is that she was betrayed and now she doesn’t trust anyone. It’s just a bit weak.
THE HEAVY HANDEDNESS
(People being mean to Vin - her hard life)
(21) the slap in the face
(23) Theron looking Vin up and down - “eyes lingered on her … running down the length of her body. … She was hardly enticing (didn’t even look 16); some men preferred such women, however.”
(24) “what do you know?” “Enough” - Vin hurts her, expositional dialogue about her brother’s debt and selling her to a whorehouse.
(25) fearing Vin would disappear in a scene she doesn’t have much to do during, we get these unnecessary interjections of her watching the interaction, followed by the explanation of Camon thinking Vin is his good luck charm. This should have been presented earlier, because it just interrupts the dialogue here. But also, it feels inaccurate after Vin made such a useful critique of Camon’s servants. She seems much more useful in other ways than a luck charm, and comfortable offering her criticism without the slightest hesitation.
This chapter ends rather abruptly and without much Go to it. Vin uses her Luck and gets our stuffy official to consider her boss’s mundane business proposal.
The notion that Camon brings Vin along because he thinks of her as his luck charm feels really thin, especially on a job like this where everyone has to look the part. Which raises an important question: what was Vin doing there? I mean literally. Why didn’t Camon have SOMETHING for her to do. Camon didn’t dress her up in any part, she didn’t have any kind of cover story as his daughter or nurse or anything. Just some kid in the room dressed … who knows how while important official business is discussed. She just floats somewhere, doing nothing, as far as anyone is concerned.
VIN’S MOTIVATION
Where is it? What does she get out of making this work for Camon if he has no idea what she’s doing? Why is she avoiding him if this is such an important job? Why is she helping him at all?
The pieces are there, but Sanderson doesn’t put them together.
Camon should know about Vin’s ability to “smooth things over” in some capacity. This would give him a serious reason for her being there on this crucial job. Vin should be motivated to help him because if this lucrative job works out, it will go a long way towards paying off her brother’s debt. Now suddenly there is a sense of urgency for her instead of just having a bad time owned by a “crew leader” getting slapped around. The scam itself isn’t enough. Frankly, it’s kind of boring at this point. It’s a slow moving beurocratic swindle.
(32) Kelsier.
Sanderson is doing a good job introducing some thieves’ cant here as Dockson and Kelsier are planning their job, talking about how they need a “Smoker.” Someone is a good Tineye. The loss of a man to the Steel Ministry underscores the mortal risk these men are taking.
But … there’s something about all this crime play that feels a bit cute, like Sanderson had only a passing, generic understanding of (fictional) gangs/criminal organizations. He’s spent his world building energy on the fantasy aspects of the story - the dystopian Tolkien Lord Ruler and Steel Ministry, skaa, ashfalls, mist - but not on developing the criminal world of the characters, linguistically speaking. They’re all crews working on a job headed by a crew leader. This is the world we’re living in, most immediately, and yet it feels the most underdeveloped.
“Kelsier shook his head. ‘No. He’s a good Smoker, but he’s not a good enough man.’
Dockson smiled. ‘Not a good enough man to be on a THIEVING CREW … Kell, I have missed working with you.”
This stopped me dead. I laughed at the book and put my hand over my eyes. “Thieving crew” is just silly. It’s sixth grade D&D language, but even more ridiculous is the sentiment of Dockson’s statement: that character is somehow a moot point because they are criminals. It’s as if he’s saying: we’re breaking the law, so we’re the bad guys, and bad guys don’t work with “good men.”
Here we see Sanderson’s shallow understanding of the characters he’s portraying. They are stealing from slavers who exist in the service of a brutal, oppressive dictator. But put that aside, and consider we’ve just been told one of their ilk had been caught and beheaded by the Ministry. The risk these people are facing couldn’t be higher. Working with people they can trust, a stand up guy or a “good man,” would be one of the most important things to them. From their point of view a “good man” doesn’t mean a patron saint of the poor, but it means a hell of a lot. If a guy is a drunk who cheats on his wife, you can’t trust him not to turn on you. If he gambles too much, you can’t trust him not to gamble on your safety. He doesn’t keep his apartment clean, how can you trust him to be conscientious about keeping you alive. It all matters - even more so because he’s on a “thieving crew.”
Now, Sanderson probably didn’t give this line more than a moment's thought. He was writing fast and sailed right over it. But that’s exactly the problem. It gives the book a kind of childish, YA feeling.
(33) “Kelsier turned with curious eyes.” I’ve written lines like this, but I almost always revise them because I write about eyes too much. The point is his eyes aren’t curious, Kelsier is, and it shows on his face. I can’t picture curious eyes, and I’m sure you can’t either.
And I would cut the next line of dialogue - going to chastise my brother … we already know he was going to do this because he said so, and the line just isn’t very good anyway. A look of curiosity from Kell, and the promise from Dockson “it’ll be worth your time,” gets us out of the section better. Sometimes the best repartee between characters is a look.
(33-34) the scenes with Vin remain heavy handed, and affected. This section adds almost nothing to the story accept for the disappointingly narrow view of a fantasy underworld that the women in it are only ever whores. This from a world crawling with Smokers and Tineyes? I think not. The clumsy presentation of Vin’s awful life is what makes these sections particularly affected. With her particular ability to use her Luck, I can’t help but wonder why she’s even still here. That seems to be the story to me. Not the abuse, but why she remains when she clearly has the power to get out. She can smooth over deals with reps from the SM, but she hasn’t thought to calm some member of the crew and then just … walk? Go literally anywhere in the city and use her Luck to get work where she won’t be whipped and slapped. It seems like the easiest thing in the world, so why hasn’t she done it? This is what the story here could have been, and it would have been so much more interesting.
Obviously she has to be there so Sanderson can have terrible things happen to her so she can be saved by Kelsier just like he saved the other raped scaa girl (let’s all take a moment to roll our eyes) and then her character can have a trajectory from passive victim to active hero - but that’s an excuse, and excuses don’t make good stories.
That said, as is, these two pages could be cut entirely and with very minor revision to the next session, nothing would be lost. It introduces a hideout we don’t need to know about, abuse that is redundant, over the top and unmotivated, and then Camon says “it’s time.” It’s just a prelude, in which nothing happens, before the actual scene. So just cut to the actual scene.
(36) we finally find out what the Camon job was supposed to be, I suspect because Sanderson finally decided what the details were. It would have been much more interesting to know this earlier, just like it would have been more interesting to understand about the particulars of Vin’s brothers betrayal earlier, so we could understand the context of the story being told.
But a LARGER ISSUE continues to emerge. First Camon tells Vin nothing about his plans. She says she is apparently the only crew member who didn’t know what was going on. Then, as they sit in the waiting room, in the vey belly of the obligator beast, he tells her everything. Why? Because Sanderson wants us to know even though he never decided who this character was.
He wants her to be a passive victim of inordinate abuses by a group of irredeemable villains, who only avoids constant sexual assault through the exhausting use of her secret magic so she can be saved and then learn how to be powerful later. But he also wants her to be a smart, capable member of Camon’s crew who is considered as such, because he knows passive protagonists aren’t interesting and because he wants us, the reader, to know what’s going on, and also think that Vin is cool. She can’t be both at the same time. She either needs to be less of an abject, pathetic victim, or she needs to be less involved in this big important scam - and that means she knows less about it and does less to make it work. As is, he’s done too little with either idea of her character and both Vin and Camon are an unmotivated mess.
(42) steel inquisitor. Cool, creepy, disgusting - something straight out of hellraiser.
(43) “Besides, I’m not about to let a possible Mistborn slip away from us” Ah!
Ch3
(45) after the meeting with the obligator (that was a trap), is the first time Vin ever expresses any interest in getting away. Much too late Sanderson gives us a much too thin reason why Vin hasn’t run away (considering the conflicting versions of her character as mentioned before). It’s little more than an afterthought.
(47) in no more than 2 pages Vin goes from never thinking she could make it on her own to leaving for good, telling herself she’d survived sleeping in alleyways before, she could do it again and - “Reen had taught her how to scavenge and beg. Both were difficult in the Final Empire … but she would find a way, if she had too.”
So far, this is all based on a bad feeling. More motivation conflict - Vin has no problem telling Camon directly how his plans won’t work and that he should change the way the servants are dressed, helps him succeed with her luck in both plans, but sees no reason to tell him “I have a bad feeling about this. That was too easy. Why did that obligator suddenly agree. Doesn’t this seem weird to you?”
Sanderson has many of the right pieces, but he hasn’t been able to put them together coherently.
(45)(And, just as an aside, I’m not sure why a girl who has spent to book so far reiterating to herself that EVERYONE WILL BETRAY ME is going out of her way to tell Ulef she has a bad feeling and to get him to come with her. Sanderson says “if he would go with her, then at least she wouldn’t be alone.” But he has also up until this point defined her character by a near constant desire to be alone - when she is introduced sitting in the window of the hideout thinking her brothers word “Vin wasn’t on duty; the watch-hole was simply one of the few places where she could find solitude. And Vin liked solitude. ‘When you’re alone, no one can betray you’- (37) at the “It’s just another betrayal, she thought sickly. Why does it still bother me so? Everyone betrays everyone else. That’s the way life is …
She wanted to find a corner - someplace cramped and secluded - and hide. Alone.”
(47) "Bringing Ulef was a good idea. He had contacts in Luthadel." These after the fact explanations are no good. This isn't Vin thinking this, it's the author coming up with more justification for Vin's action, but in order for her character to seem active and motivated, this needed to be revised into the section where Vin decides to bring Ulef. Now it's just tacked on - oh, yeah, and, by the way, if you weren't sure it made sense for Vin to do this, Ulef probably knows people. So, there.
It doesn’t wash. Who is this girl? Can she not stand the idea of being alone, or is it the one and only thing she wants? Is she strong and resourceful in spite of her circumstances, or is she a passive victim? Does she believe everyone will betray her, or does she desperately want to believe otherwise because she can’t live in such an unkind world? Sanderson doesn’t seem to have been able to make up his mind. Maybe some of these details were added in revision on the suggestion of beta readers and the result is a checkerboard character. I’ve seen that before where you make a suggestion to a writer and they add your suggestion but they don’t make the necessary changes to the rest of the book so that the new material earns its place, they just throw it in and dust off their hands - job well done, gotta stay on schedule to publish! But now I’m just writing fan fiction about Sanderson’s process. I don’t know.
(55) Vin’s “weakness” - the contradictions/inexactitude of characters seems to be an ongoing issue for Sanderson, at least for Vin. Is she weak and has to pretend to be strong, or is she strong and often chooses to pretend to be weak (so far she has seemed to be weak and act weak, other than her Luck).
Well, that's as far as I got. Kel shows up just in time to be the wrath of justice for Vin. He's the superman who will make everything alright for this feckless girl. Our hero. Did Sanderson lay it on thick enough? Did you get that these people were all so irredeemably and stupidly bad? Aren't you so glad this strong man has shown up to be Vin's vengeance, just like had been telegraphed all along?
Sorry, I don't mean to be sarcastic. This part of the narrative really isn't so bad, its just been so heavy handedly and clumsily lead up to that there's no thrill in it for me. It isn't a bit satisfying. I'm just glad I don't have to read about any of these shallow side-characters anymore. Except, I have no intention to read on, so I don't have to read about any of them anymore.
Is this book bad? Yes and no. I don't want to read any more, and only read as far as I did as an examination of storytelling, so for me its bad. You only get so many eyerolls before I have to say that. The sentences are very clear and coherent. On their own, they are coherent. Together, they fail to paint of picture of coherent characters who drive the action of the story. If you don't have that, at least in my book, you've got nothing.
The images work. The setting, in its broad strokes, is eveocative. I'd love to set a DnD campaign in a world of ash and a dark lord and all that (I'm not the least mad about the cliché of the dark lord, by the way. Who doesn't love archetypical stories?) But, as near as I can tell, there are no human beings in this book. No one is real. The characters are just that, only characters in a book. They are paper cutouts. They fall flat when the hand of the author isn't pushing them around and making them do things.
Fans often hold Sanderson up as the gold standard of a fantasy author who produces work fast. And having read this far into Mistborn, I can say this about it: It reads like it was written fast.
Yes, Mistborn was an earlier book of his, so I can't judge him by it alone. But it is a work that is so often held up as a favorite by his readers. That's why I picked it up, to see what all the fuss was about. There were many things I enjoyed, but what I enjoyed wasn't the narrative. The story and the characters who moved it were the thing that I enjoyed least. The unique magic and broad setting details and description of places and creepy Inquisitors were what I liked best. The proper nouns were fun.
But proper nouns don't make a story for me. So I did not finish Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson.
If I were looking for a light fantasy read that I didn't have to take seriously and I could pick up and put down whenever I wanted because it was never that exciting or particularly witty or clever, but managed to string along one event after another and kept them going, more or less, whether it made much sense or not, until the end, I think Mistborn would be a fine book to dip into. Lots of people have read it. But then, that seems to me to be its major appeal. It’s a book you can talk about with other people.
It's not enough for me, though. There's lots of fun fantasy books out there that feel more coherent, and, well, INTERESTED in the story they're telling. Interested in violence and revolution and crime in an oppressively totalitarian, dystopian world. Interested in the plight of a young girl who only wants … well, what does she want? To be safe? But the only way she finds she can be safe is to go toward danger and realize how very strong she is? Maybe this story would like to be that, but it hasn't been for the first 60 or so pages.
Sanderson's novel felt more interested in the large and vague story shapes around the characters - a city, a dark lord, slavery, soot snow, bad mist, some kinds of magic, and (I cringe to say it) rape and thieving and beatings - but not in the world of their lives.
I've heard good things about The Way Of Kings from people who did not like Mistborn either, but its safe to say at this point that I have reservations about my reading tastes being a good match for Sanderson's work, at least at this point in time.
If I'm looking for fun I'd rather read another swanky, noir fantasy by Douglas Lumsden any day, or the next gothic gaslamp fantasy mystery by Morgan Stang, or discover my next favorite author, indie or otherwise.
I don't think Mistborn was terrible by any stretch of the imagination. Sanderson has delighted readers for over a decade now! He's prolific, hard working, and he delivers what his fans want, and he and they continue to be richly rewarded for his efforts. He is a Name in the genre, often listed alongside the greats. And why not? Isn't pleasing readers what this is all about? Taylor Swift has oceans of adoring fans, and she's no less deserving of her accolades. Brandon Sanderson is the Taylor Swift of fantasy, you could say. I just don't like her music either.
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tell us about the royals au!!! (im on my knees. please.)
Ohhhhh my friend you have started me on a RANT I hope you’re ready!!!
I don’t know that I’ll ever actually write it so I’m not too worried about spoilers, and the wonderful people in my dms (which are still open btw) bouncing ideas with me are always going to come up with great ideas so I’m putting WIP in big red letters, things are subject to change! But for now, some ideas. Most of what I have will be under the cut, but if you want to know more about a specific part/have any questions please I’d love to chat :D will link to the art/posts I have so far!
(In this au I’ve been referring to Neil as Nathaniel at first and then Abram (hello names as a plot device), and everyone else right now is some version of their name)
Kevin and Nathaniel were raised at Evermore castle, Kevin to be in direct competition to Riko/see which of them might claim the throne (not thought out yet), and Nathaniel as the Moriyama’s attack dog, born and raised to take his father’s place as such. The two never met in person, but Nathaniel knows and recognizes Day because of course he does, and Day knows the name Wesninski means a very, very dangerous person. Essentially the top assassin on the continent.
But as we do, Day decides he can’t/won’t handle the treatment anymore, whatever the last straw may be, and runs off to Palmetto in a kind of desperate chase of the stories his mother used to tell him when he was little. He knew she loved that kingdom. Somehow he finds Wymack - the twin’s royal advisor - or Wymack finds him, and once Wymack realizes who this kid is and has reason to believe he’s not here on Evermore business, he puts Day’s incredible talent and training as a tactician/commander to work as his pupil.
Meanwhile Nathaniel is still at Evermore, mistreated and learning from his own failures and mistakes until he’s nearly as good as his father at the family business.
I don’t know how long Nathaniel plans it, but he either plays the part for long enough or his skill is so undeniable that when the Moriyamas have plans for the Palmetto Kingdom, they send him and one other accomplished fighter to kill the king. Nathaniel goes quietly and decides he’s not coming back if he can help it.
So instead of killing the young king, Nathaniel’s panic has him turn on his partner at the very last second, stopping them just before they can get to the king. He takes them somewhere far away and does what he does best, leaving no one to report back to the Moriyamas. From then on it’s a waiting game to see how long the family will wait before they send someone after him.
Day’s followed them, and Nathaniel turns around from the body and sees this man he hasn’t seen in years, alive and safe away from Evermore. It’s as elating as it is crushing - because Day heard his partner call him by name, and there is no way Day will ever let a Wesninski walk away alive. Not if he knows what’s good for all of them.
Except Day doesn’t kill him, even when Nathaniel asks him to. (Better Day than Riko, Nathaniel knew that even when they were all stuck at Evermore). Instead, he takes Nathaniel back to the twins/Wymack, gives him a little bread, and they sit until he can pry out an explanation. (See the comic of this first meeting here.)
Day and Nathaniel spend most of their time together because Day refuses to let Nathaniel out of his or Wymack’s sight until he proves not a threat to the royal family, which proves an issue because between Andrew’s rotation of personal guards (he never gets along with them well enough that they stay/aren’t fired) Day is Andrew’s guard, which sometimes means Nathaniel is stuck a lot closer than Day would like. But after a long, long time, Day and Wymack decide Nathaniel was serious about the whole “runaway” thing and isn’t playing spy (maybe there’s some dramatic event/Nathaniel protecting a twin that convinces them or maybe it’s just a lot of little things over time). Andrew, after a rough spat with the latest guard, is again in need of a new one. Finally Day just asks “is there ANYONE you could possibly pretend to get along with that can do the job” and Andrew knows Nathaniel is dangerous he just doesn’t know exactly how or why (but oh he is curious) so maybe he just straight up says. “Wesninski.” And Day has to go “…. Fine.”
So boom. They knew each other superficially before, but now Andrew and Nathaniel are spending most of their time together and miraculously - no arguments. No spats. Day thanks the gods there’s no physical altercations (that’s probably what got the last guard fired so quick). Nathaniel is just a mystery with shady ability to tell the truth and Andrew can’t help his curiosity. Good old fashioned andreil :D
From here the timeline becomes essentially nonexistent, I have no idea when these things happen in relation to each other but so far they’re all things I like and want to include!
1) there’s plenty of games and competitions at Palmetto, we love a good tussle, and Nathaniel usually does quite well - he’s not good at playing fair, but his underhanded methods are not technically illegal and usually he can use his preferred weapon - dagger rather than sword. He does well except for the one time an opponent accidentally says/does something that was constantly said or done to Nathaniel while “training” at Evermore, and he comes back to Andrew and the tent he watched from in the beginning of a panic attack. Andrew doesn’t know anything about Nathaniel’s past at this point, but he knows a panic attack when he sees one. In trying to talk him through it, Andrew realizes that yes Nathaniel is scared of being hurt, but he’s more afraid of hurting others. Nathaniel won’t let Andrew call him by name, he flinches every time Andrew says it. After, Andrew asks what he should call him instead, and Nathaniel finally asks to be called Abram.
2) Balls! Masquerades! Abram doesn’t have many outfits, he wears the regular issued uniform to every event. Andrew will not stand for this. Abram always wears clothes that cover him fully, which is fine, Andrew can work with that. He’s still seen Abram in a tight shirt or two. So he commissions one of the most knowledgeable people in the court (we’re thinking it might be Allison, she’s a noble but she’s great with textiles/embroidery/etc) and gets Abram a new outfit. It still covers him, its still protective material, but it looks better. (Find Abram in a corset here). Andrew handles it totally normal and rational in his head when he sees Abram actually wearing it of course.
3) Day probably assumes for a little while that Andrew and Abram have got a more or less normal guard/charge relationship, even thinking it’s slightly antagonistic considering this is Andrew we’re talking about. (This doesn’t fit the timeline, but here’s a mini comic of one of Day’s misunderstandings hehe)
4) king Aaron! He became king at 18/20/whatever age we decide this universe deems old enough because he is in fact the elder twin here. I imagine their parents have both been dead and gone for at least a few years at this point. Dan is Aaron’s guard and she and Abram hit it off great as coworkers and friends. More on the uncertainty of the twins backstory later. (Drawings of Aaron and his queen Katelyn here!)
5) the angst. The Moriyamas should have heard from the Wesninski boy months ago - something somewhere went wrong. So, naturally, they go to collect their property. If they get away with it, we can imagine how it goes. What I don’t know is if the twins, Day, and Wymack know for sure he was kidnapped or if they have a little nagging in the back of their head that wonders if he’s only run away from the castle or if he’s run back to Evermore with everything he’s learned.
When he’s recovered, Day doesn’t let Andrew too close too often for a while. If Abram forgets where is for even a second too long - waking up from a nightmare, having a flashback - it’s long enough for it to be fatal to whoever might get too close to Abram. It’s already almost proved fatal for Andrew, after Abram played normal so well that Andrew let it slip - he forgot Abram was taken back to Evermore for them to finish making him into a thoughtless weapon, and they’d nearly succeed. He wakes Abram too quickly and ends up extremely lucky Abram recognizes both his voice and the way Andrew didn’t call him ‘Nathaniel’ or ‘Wesninski’. There’s really a huge amount to possibly be covered about this point so I won’t go into detail here - but if you like hurt/comfort you know where to find me 👀
6) the biggest thing we haven’t figured out is Andrew. Either he was kidnapped at a young age and only recovered in his teens, or the elder King Minyard didn’t much care for his second son. Though I’ve always liked the idea of Mr. Minyard being a good man who died shortly before the twins’ birth and their mother just couldn’t handle the grief or knowing that the twins look like him. Anyway a lot of the twins’ issues after both of their parents are dead are the advisors or other people around them that try to take advantage of their youth and inexperience for their own gain, without realizing that both Aaron and Andrew have had to grow up much too fast, each for their own reasons. They can usually see right past the tricks. It’s why they both trust Wymack so much - he’s one of the few adults that are truly there to help them, and not make decisions for them.
Im sure there’s more I missed, but this is long enough as it is lol. People have asked about the Trojans/Jean in this au, and I’d love to include them! My brain’s instinctive response is that Jeremy is some sort of high end noble/royal of a faraway kingdom, and Jean (always last to leave the nest, im so sorry baby) somehow gets over there, but I don’t have an idea of his or anyone else’s roles yet. Renee could even still have a hand in him getting there if we really want.
So I’m still writing snippets and drawing over here lol but i promise I don’t bite if you want to talk :D
#dear. lord.#this got long#very handy that tumblr adds a read more button to mobile as soon as I learn the shortcut for it#whatever I’m uh#invested#that’s the word I’ll use#I TOLD YOU ROYAL AUS ARE MY ABSOLUTE BABY#my main ocs have a royal au too that’s equally as long winded#it’s insane what this universe can do to me 😭#uhhhh okay tags#my writing#royal au#asks#neil josten#andrew minyard#aaron minyard#kevin day#david wymack#aftg#all for the game#oh also lemonzestedtea#your tags bless me#thank you for the cool pillow 🙏
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I'm trans! Here's a way-too-long ramble on my internal thoughts on that!
My other posts on this:
https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/725852054829023232/im-going-to-document-some-things-about-my?source=share
https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/725851397783011328/the-short-answer-is-no-but-im-gonna-have-a?source=share
So yay I’m trans! Which like, is neither unexpected nor abnormal for the community I’ve fostered here, so I’m guessing most of y’all’s reactions is just a “hey cool”. But, you see the online side of me, not the irl side, so there’s still a lot of thoughts to sort out on my end. So I’m dumping a lot of thoughts here to sort all that out. And hoooly shit, it got very long, and I still feel like I have more to say… but yeah. If you wanna hear some perspectives on my relation to gender, transness, and femboy culture, read on!
I guess the best way I can think to style this is as an interview with an imaginary third person, sooo…. Bold text is questions I can imagine people having LOL
So what’s my own personal relationship with the term femboy, catboy, and gendered terminology in general? Is the name of your accounts gonna change?
Short answer, no. I like the name CatboyBiologist. “Catboy” itself is a term that is completely untethered from gender at this point to me. Tbqh, the “cat” part feels more wrong than the boy part- as time goes on, I’ve generally ditched the cat ears for most of my outfits as I take them a bit more seriously. Maybe that’ll change when my transition actually starts, but for now, CatboyBiologist stays, and the femboy related language stays in all of my own past posts (keyword, past- more on that in a bit).
I’m not gonna be updating my approach to pronouns. Any pronouns do just fine, I’m sending a vibe into the world and pronouns are my feedback as to what other people interpret that vibe is. Default to they/them if you don’t know what to do with that.
I will be updating my pinned post to link all of these posts, but mostly copy/paste the information from before. That might take a moment cuz I’m lazy, tbh.
And let’s get something else out of the way.
I’m not socially transitioning yet, and probably won’t for a while.
Which, I think leads to a lot of follow up:
Well, why not?
I present fully male and masculine on a day to day basis, and look the part too. Part of it is just this looks insecurity. The mask stays on in my pictures for a reason. Beyond just facial hair (which grows aggressively on me and always shows some shadow), my face looks pretty masculine overall. It takes time to look the way I do in my posts. I wanna give my face and body some time to change so I can look more femme in more casual ways before I present it to the world.
Beyond that, I’m also just worried about being “accepted” as femme straight off the bat. Implicitly, I know this will be easier if I already have some small amounts of physical feminization down my belt.
There’s two main environments that worry me: family, and professionally. Family is a weird hot mess grey area that is too personal to talk about here, but the professional atmosphere is certainly going to be a bit… weird. I live in an accepting geographic region, and around people who are very outspokenly trans supportive…. But most of whom are cishet and simply don’t have a lot of experience seeing or working around trans people. I’m more afraid of being seen as “trans first, biologist second” as far as my career is concerned, than I am about outright transphobia. I know this will never fully go away, and given that I’m 6’2”, I’ll probably never “fully” pass- but I’d at least like people to implicitly read my as femme on a gut level before I start changing how I present that way. One thing my irl femboy experience has shown me is that, even if people can “clock” you intellectually, the way their gut instinct reads you affects whether they treat you as masc or femme. I hope that makes sense on some level. Of course its always going to be an awkward shift, but I hope some time on HRT will make it less awkward.
I’ve come out to one person that doesn’t know about this online persona, or the depths of my queerness. They straight up told me they were shocked. They were incredibly supportive, but they told me they didn’t see it coming at all. And they already knew that I “crossdressed occasionally”. So that’s kinda what I’m working with here.
Essentially, I’m not actually truly “transitioning” in a real sense yet. More than that, I feel like I’m getting the ball rolling. If there’s anything I learned in my research, it’s that HRT takes a while, much longer than anyone expects (suppressing my rant about how the media cherrypicks people in early transition for trans representation and the effect that has on public perception). Two years is often cited as the “end” point, but based on both scientific and anecdotal accounts, that is wildly untrue and variable. I also know that the first changes onset quickly (skin and mood, most notably), but that overall body shape changes sometimes take a VERY long time to start and progress. So to be quite honest, I barely feel like I’m transitioning yet, I’m just laying groundwork for the future.
So yeah. I’m gonna be boymoding for a bit. Possibly a year or more. Even for the people who know, I’ve still asked them to address me as he/him or they/them, and use my masculine name for now (haven’t even really decided on a femme name yet, although I have ideas [open to suggestions as well]).
Wait, so why address it online at all?
Put simply, honesty. I’m displaying a lot of selfies and experimentation with my look here, and I want to make it abundantly clear what I’m doing to have an effect on that. People have asked me if I’m on HRT in comments before, and like, I’m not gonna lie about that. Might as well also make a shitpost, a data gathering post, and a too-long ramble about it as well (which you’re reading now!).
There are a LOT of body image issues in femboy spaces (and trans spaces too!), often among very young people. While I have no issue with people on HRT continuing to call themselves a femboy (more on that in a bit), I do think transparency on that matter is helpful for those body image issues.
So to make it abundantly clear: all of my selfies and pictures that I’m labeling and tagging as “femboy” are pre-HRT. In the future, everything I tag with “trans” is post-HRT. I still got 1-2 weeks before actually starting, and I’m still going to use the femboy tag for any outfits I post during that time. The moment an estradiol pill hits my mouth, though, new pics will use trans tags.
Posts that relate to discussion of the interplay of the communities, and how I view myself within them, I’ll tag with both.
Which leads to another follow up question. This one isn’t about me specifically, but it’s my hot take about a certain brand of trans discourse I’ve seen around (mostly on reddit tbh):
Why would someone who knows they’re mtf trans willingly call themselves a femboy and/or request people to “misgender” them?
So this is actually gonna be striking a nerve with me, and I know I’m gonna kinda be strawmanning here by arguing against the ghost of reddit comments past. I’m not gonna try to dig any of them up in the internet archive, but they are sentiments I’ve seen multiple times.
I’ve seen this question almost word for word in the comments of trans subreddits multiple times. Imma be blunt, and it’s maybe gonna sound a little mean. If this thought is going through your head, you’re likely way more sensitive and particular about labels than most people. And that’s okay! Ask people to address you how you want, you deserve that respect! But the real answer to this question is that many people simply don’t mind being called whatever label is most useful or familiar to themselves in various contexts.
The moment that it becomes completely unacceptable is when someone does actually change their pronouns, name, presentation, etc, and people still address them as “male” or “femboy”. That is completely the fuck out of line, and if you don’t agree, fuck off.
Why does this strike a little bit of a nerve with me? Well, the “conclusion” I saw reached in these trans spaces multiple times when the subject was brought up was annoying as hell. That conclusion was that the only or primary reason that people labeled themselves a femboy, even while on HRT… was to sell their onlyfans. My fucking god, seriously? This is just conservative rhetoric. Luckily, on tumblr, it seems that people are a lot more accepting towards people using whatever language they like to describe themselves, which I’ve enjoyed a lot.
I’ve also had a lot of hate towards “fencesitting” directed at me on reddit, from trans people, for calling myself a femboy. I can’t remember it verbatim, but I very distinctly recall getting a DM that went something like “I fucking hate femboys, just transition already. You’re making us (transfemmes) look bad.” So yeah. Bit of a sore spot.
Yadda yadda yadda the personal journey shit
If I can be real for a moment…. In an ideal world, I would still want to be a part time femboy. Even moreso than the sheer utility of it all (eg, enjoy cis male privilege when I want, but still get treated more femme in certain contexts), it feels almost more profound to fuck with gender norms without sitting on one side of the gender line or another. But I can’t really ignore what I’ve described as my “mental resting state”- a baseline crackle of dysphoria that fills the space in my head when there’s nothing else to fill it. It’s easily distracted, but its always there, and I can’t imagine living my life that way anymore.
I’ve pretty much known I was trans since I was about 12, and had a realization that puberty was just starting to hit me, and I hated it. I suppressed it deeply, for many, many reasons that I don’t think I want to share here. But it made a lot of other mental health struggles in my life a lot worse, even if I didn’t consciously acknowledge that’s what was happening. By the time I was willing to consciously acknowledge it, I realized that my dysphoria wasn’t so bad as to dive in right away. But, I made moves to stabilize my life overall, which have been massively beneficial to me in other ways as well.
During the pandemic, I found myself living alone for the first time ever. So during the pandemic, in one last ditch effort to try to convince myself I wasn’t trans, I delved into femboy aesthetics to try and “just be a feminine man”.
That failed.
So yeah, here I am. I have a wonderful queer community both irl and online, a meagre but stable income, health insurance that has great coverage for trans care, and accepting people around me in my life. It’s long overdue. Maybe I’ll beat myself up for waiting so long and masculinizing so much as a result, but I don’t think I really could have done it any other way.
This all said, I don’t actually really consider myself a woman yet. I’m sure many of you are aware of two different ways transfemmes view themselves(and trans people in general, but using a transfemme perspective here):
-Some view themselves as having always been girls or women, but took some time to realize it and make their body more comfortable for themselves with that information.
-Others view themselves as boys or men who made efforts to become women later.
I fall strongly in the second line of thinking for myself. For my own personal experiences, even though I have felt dysphoria for a long time, I don’t really think I’m “actually” a woman yet. I don’t know what my identity as a woman looks like yet. But I deeply want to discover and create who that person is, and there’s no way to do that without transitioning.
B but… BASIC BIOLOGY!!!!!
How many biology degrees do you have? I got a BS and an MS, and I’m working on my PhD. I’m sure you’ve brought a similar level of expertise to this discussion.
But seriously, I could genuinely write an entire fucking essay about how studying biology has influenced my views on this subject, but honestly, that’s an entirely different topic. But tl;dr is that bioessentialism is brainrot, and if someone tries to use essentialist language to “justify” someone’s transness (or gender in general)… well, I think they’re wrong. Plain and simple. We don’t say someone isn’t “really able to see” if they put glasses in front of their eyes.
I’m stopping myself before I write more here, because this warrants another post or even a fucking video essay, to be quite honest. But yeah. Biology based.
Conclusion?
Uhhhh… in conclusion, I’m not particular about language or pronouns you use for me, I’m making posts about it anyways to ensure honesty associated with my selfies, if you’re transphobic jump of the tallest bridge you can find. I think that about covers it.
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Anon:
Fandom: Harry Potter (CLV kinda?)
Character or Ship: Hadrian from CLV, I love Hadrian/Orion but that might not work here so it's totally up to you!
AU/Trope: I'd love to see an AU where instead of the CLV dimension, Hadrian is sent to a universe still with BWL!Neville but more similar to canon. Maybe with Slytherin!Hadrian and Hadrian taking some of the other Slytherins under his wing? I just really like the idea of a world where the "good guys" win and instead of (or in addition to) Orion it's the Slytherins who need Hadrian in their corner. Doesn't have to be all of them, whoever you prefer writing is fine. I am also down for bashing if you need to work that in. Thank you!
Tags: CLV AU, Slytherin!Hadrian, Canonical Prejudices, Draco Malfoy Bashing, kind of?, tbh this is more or less how I see him in canon lol but I know he's a fan favourite so fair warning, he's not the CLV version here, at least not yet.
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Author's Notes: Hello, it's been a while since I've worked on these. I think I mentioned before that my tumblr inbox got glitchy so I actually couldn't find the other 6 requests from the last batch of 10 you guys sent in for 5+ Headcanons. So I set up an airtable form instead and got someone to test it, and this was the one they sent. It works, so in the future, I'll toss out a new post with the form link for more requests, and maybe I'll get through them in a timely manner lol.
If you're not in the UraIchi server, then you might've noticed that I've sort of been MIA on the writing front for a while now, the last time I wrote and posted something was like back in May last year, and honestly I've been kind of tired and burnt out ever since, and real life is kicking my ass a bit, so when I do have spare time, all I feel like doing is reading fics or webnovels and sleeping. But the winter hols were a nice break for me, and I've started on a couple new fic ideas and added to some wips on and off over the past few months, so I'm slowly getting back into it, and this 5+ Headcanons prompt was one of the things I've been working on. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back into posting fics soon.
ANYWAY, on to the stuff you actually care about: Slytherin!Hadrian, so basically amp up the hardened war vet and dial down the friendship magic XD Way back when I first started CLV, I did consider Slytherin for his House but it felt like everybody did that, plus the politics I would have to get into gave me a headache and I felt like I couldn't do it justice anyway, so I went with Hufflepuff. Slytherin does give me more options to play with a powerful Hadrian who has less morals about flinging that around to get what he wants though since he would be viewed as a halfblood at best and he'd need that currency to make sure nobody messes with him, especially if this universe is more canon than CLV (lbr, almost everybody is at least 50% nicer in CLV lol). So okay, let's give this a spin.
(AO3 Link Here -- I’ll add this to the collection fic on my AO3 to make it a round 15 but this one will be the last for that. If I do more, I’ll start a new fic.)
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1.
Hadrian ends up being a Hatstall. He sits on the stool for a full seven minutes as the Sorting Hat sifts through his bloodstained memories with a silence so grim Hadrian is tempted to comfort it. Then it proceeds to send back memories of its own, the major points of recent Hogwarts history that would best help Hadrian fit in - Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; an image of Hadrian's counterpart and an entire family still alive; Quirrell vanquished in first year, a basilisk slain and a diary that bled itself to death in the second, Remus teaching in the third but no Pettigrew in sight; Neville at odds with Potter, Gryffindors at odds with Slytherins, and Death Eater children who hadn't managed to come out of the last war as financially and politically secure as families like the Malfoys, subtly shunned for their parents' sins, while children from the Light side, the winning side, with parents who'd openly defied Voldemort, can do almost no wrong. On the surface, everything looks bright and happy. Beneath it, malcontent and despair bubbles and brews with hardly anyone the wiser, and those who are, are glad to look away.
The Sorting Hat offers no opinions of its own after it is done, only continuing on to extol the virtues of all four Houses while making an argument for why Hadrian would be perfectly suited for each of them in equal measure, before finally leaving the decision in Hadrian's hands.
"Even I cannot be certain where you would do the most good," the Sorting Hat tells him. "Nor do I know which House would do you the most good. There are many children in this school who could use a helping hand such as yours, and likewise, you too would benefit from the same. Who am I to decide which is more important? Perhaps it is most accurate to say that no matter where you end up, who you will help, and who you will allow to help you, a new future will unfold, one made possible only by your existence. Yours is a fate that demands change, Mr. Evans, for better or for worse. But when peril looms on the distant horizon, when our society insists on blind stagnancy, and its people have long stood divided, change is exactly what this world needs. Thus, I leave the choice to you. Where do you wish to go?"
Hadrian says nothing - thinks nothing - for a long deafening minute. The mounting whispers in the Great Hall are easy enough to tune out, and within the confines of his mind, the Hat too remains patiently silent.
The truth of it is - Hadrian is tired. Even now, in this moment, in this place, one year and an entire dimension and seven years away, he still feels like he does on most days— as if he's just walked off a battlefield at the end of one of those kinds of days that can break a man even when you think there's nothing left to break, yet still hyper-alert for the next enemy, the next fight, the next death, because he doesn't know how to do anything else, how to be anything else. On all the rest, of course, it feels as if he never left the battlefield at all.
He is tired, and he honestly doesn't feel like he's capable of helping anyone, not children, not the reflections of his loved ones, and certainly not an entire world that's rapidly revealing itself to be as stuck on a one-way train to hell as his original world had been.
He doesn't want to be a hero, doesn't know how to be one even after all these years, even when other people had always so desperately wanted him to be. A hero, until he'd proven unable to meet their expectations, and then he'd been their villain, right up until they'd needed a hero to stand in front of them again, and round and round and round they'd gone.
The only thing he could never be was just Harry, just himself, and now even Harry Potter is no longer his to claim.
But maybe that's not so bad, not when Harry Potter has always been more story than reality, a patchwork fairytale portrait of a boy, a man, a weapon, a sacrifice, stitched together by every hand except his own.
Maybe Hadrian Evans could be something different.
Gryffindor feels too much like repeating history, and Hadrian would rather not be forced to stare at the majority of those long dead to him day in and day out. Hufflepuff is too prone to crowding together for his liking, persistently eager to be friends with their own members even if they're quick to turn on those who aren't, and Hadrian doesn't think he can bear the overenthusiastic socializing that would require.
Ravenclaw might be best, a House where even the most introverted can find a home if they have a thirst for knowledge, but at the same time, for a lot of them, once they latch on to a question unanswered or an opinion that doesn't fit their worldview, they won't let go until the question is exhausted or the opinion has conformed to what they consider acceptable, and Hadrian has too many secrets and no more patience to be what others what him to be to fit in with those sorts of people anymore. Besides, he's never quite forgiven that House as a whole. Marietta Edgecombe had been Ravenclaw. Quirrell and Lockhart and Trelawney had been Ravenclaws. Every single one of Luna's bullies had been Ravenclaws. He'd worked with members of that House over the years, taught them back when the DA had been up and running, and even been friendly with some of them beyond just Luna, but generally speaking, he has no positive emotions regarding Ravenclaw. He knows that he isn't being entirely fair, because Voldemort had been from Slytherin, and Pettigrew had been from Gryffindor, and the worst of the lot who'd spearheaded the damaging gossip and baseless accusations incriminating him - first for the Heir of Slytherin debacle in second year, and then the Cup nonsense in fourth year - had all been from Hufflepuff, but still, Ravenclaw simply stands out as that one House that holds no appeal for him.
That really only leaves one place he can go though, and Hadrian finds that he minds that a lot less than he once would've. Slytherin will have its own problems, him being a halfblood at best with a very obvious muggle surname, but Slytherins also respect power, and most of them have the sense to back off if they realize they're picking a fight with an opponent they can't beat. And once that's dealt with, Hadrian will most likely be avoided and left to his own devices, with only the occasional curse to his back to worry about. From a bunch of schoolchildren, that's a negligible issue.
In his head, the Sorting Hat chuckles. "Very well then. If you're sure, better be-"
"SLYTHERIN!"
But Mr. Evans," the Sorting Hat says in the seconds before it's removed from Hadrian's head. It sounds thoroughly amused. "Do not be so quick to underestimate your own heart."
And with that last ominous statement imparted to haunt him, Hadrian stands to lacklustre applause and makes his way to his new House as his tie settles into green and silver stripes.
The briefest of glances over the stretch of the Slytherin table tells him that none of the students seated where most of the fourth-years are gathered have moved to make room for him. That's fine. Hadrian would rather not be boxed in anyway. He takes a seat at the end of the table, smiles at the suspicious first-years around him, and then waits for Dumbledore's opening speech to finish so they can start the feast.
Fifteen minutes later, one treacle tart and a glass of pumpkin juice is all he can manage. He sips at some water for the rest of dinner even as he wishes it was something a lot more alcoholic. He speaks to no one, and no one tries to speak to him, although plenty of prying eyes and sneers of disdain find their way to him throughout the meal.
It makes him feel, Hadrian thinks with some humour, almost nostalgic.
Near the end of the evening, he thinks about going over to the Gryffindor table to find Neville, Ron, and Hermione. But he's in Slytherin now, so he doesn't know how they'll react, and after another moment of contemplation, he decides against it. Not much can embarrass him anymore, but he'd still rather not be put on the spot if the Golden Trio rejects his overture of friendship. It won't help his reputation in Slytherin either if he ends up making a spectacle of himself like that. There's plenty of time tomorrow to see how they'll feel about maintaining ties with a Slytherin without too big of an audience watching, and if they're against it, then, well, it's not as if Hadrian hasn't been living as a recluse over the better part of the past year anyway. He sees no problem carrying on exactly as he has.
Fate sent him here against his explicit permission but she sure as shit can't make him dance.
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2.
Hadrian ends up shuffled into a dorm room with five very familiar Slytherins - Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. He gets the remaining bed that's presumably been empty since the others' first year, and a very pointed silence coalesces at his back as he starts unpacking his clothes into his wardrobe.
He ignores it. Instead, he absently begins a count of how long it will take for someone - he's betting Draco - to put their foot in their mouth first. He casts a glance at the floor-to-ceiling window next to his nightstand; like the Gryffindor dorms, the room is circular so everyone has a view to the outside, but here, instead of winds and open skies, it's lake water that shimmers against the glass, with the shadows of passing aquatic life flickering by. It's not bad, just different; the ambience of it is almost soothing.
Someone clears their throat behind him. Hadrian hangs up his winter cloak before moving on to his books. They each get a desk too, complete with a mini bookcase, which the Gryffindor dorms don't have. They have to do their homework on their beds or in the common room. How unfair. But at least Hadrian gets to benefit from it now.
Someone clears their throat again, louder this time. Hadrian smothers a twist of a smirk and bends over his trunk again to fish out his towels and toiletries. His more personal belongings can remain inside, although he'll have to ward everything to the nines anyway.
A displeased noise that comes out gilded with that distinctly familiar Dudley-esque whine of a child who's been spoiled since birth and has never known hardship reaches his ears, and then finally-
"Are you deaf, Evans?!" Draco demands, and oh, look at that, Hadrian wins the bet.
He straightens and turns, idly fiddling with a packet of quills as his gaze falls on the blond standing puffed up and bristling by the bed opposite Hadrian's on the other side of the dorm. He looks him over, looks at Crabbe and Goyle bracketing him with twin expressions of oafish scorn, looks at Zabini standing a ways away, watching the whole room with a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes, looks at Nott who doesn't look at anyone at all.
His attention returns to Draco, considering him for a moment longer before asking mildly, "Did you say something?"
Draco's cheeks flush pink even as he draws himself up and snaps, "You should at least have enough manners to introduce yourself!" His face narrows into a sneer, and Hadrian can almost predict his next words. "But I suppose even that might be too difficult for a mudblood to learn."
For a second, Hadrian wonders if he should tell him he's a halfblood. Then again, it doesn't really matter, and also some people consider halfbloods to be mudbloods too. And now that he thinks about it, the person he is in this world might actually be a muggleborn. But he was homeschooled so at least one of his fictional parents had to have known magic, right? Then again, they could've just been related to a witch or wizard but were muggles themselves. Who knows. Certainly not him since Fate couldn't be bothered to inform him.
"Evans, are you listening to me?!"
Hadrian blinks out of his thoughts. "Yes, I'm listening, what is it?"
Draco glares. His features are so… pointy at this age that the expression doesn't really carry the impact he's probably going for, but Hadrian figures it would be unnecessarily mean to mention it, so he doesn't. Instead, he quickly reviews everything Draco has said, and there wasn't actually a question anywhere in there, as far as Hadrian can tell, but maybe Draco really does want an introduction. Seems like a waste of breath though.
"Is there a point to introducing myself?" He asks. "Everybody heard my name at the Sorting. You even just used it so it's not like you don't know."
Draco splutters as if that wasn't what he expected Hadrian to say. He recovers after a moment and opts to glower harder instead, as if that would hide the way the pink in his cheeks is slowly turning red. Poor bastard. That's what you get when you have a pale complexion and fluster easily.
"Are you actually a mudblood then?" He demands contemptuously.
Hadrian honestly doesn't know, but he can't say that, so he volleys back, "Does Slytherin accept muggleborns?"
He knows they take halfbloods, but he can't remember any muggleborns in Slytherin, although if there are any, he doubts they would be willing to broadcast it, even if it means inventing a magical parent in their family tree.
"Of course not!" Draco refutes, sounding scandalized.
Hadrian can't tell if that's actually true, or if that's just Draco's own belief, but it does make things easier. "Then…" He shrugs. "If you already know, why are you asking?"
A beat of silence passes, then two. The red deepens in Draco's face as he hisses dramatically, "Are you mocking me?"
Hadrian suppresses a sigh. He probably is being too flippant for someone as high-strung as Draco, but it's still a far sight from mockery. He can definitely do better if he wants to taunt someone. Had his world's Draco been this easily riled up? They hadn't even really gotten into any exchange of insults yet. "I wouldn't say I'm-"
He stops.
Across the room, Draco has pulled out his wand, and when he realizes that Hadrian's broken off mid-sentence, the flush recedes from his face, and a triumphant smirk instantly takes its place instead.
"Since you've been sorted into Slytherin," Draco announces, raising his wand with a ridiculously showy flourish that makes Hadrian twitch with the desire to correct his posture. "You should know your place. Mouthing off to your betters is a good way to get cursed around here, especially when you're in the presence of someone like me." He sneers down his nose even as his chin tips up, all peacock proud. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Even the likes of your kind should've heard of my family." He looks smug, as if a mere surname can protect him from anything when it comes down to it. "You'll be staying here for the next four years, Evans, and I guarantee you'll have a miserable time of it if you get on my bad side. But today's your first day at Hogwarts, so I can be generous. If you apologize, I'll let you go just this once."
An expectant hush falls as Draco finishes his little speech. Hadrian doesn't say anything right away, still turning over the packet of quills in his hands, still waiting. When nothing happens after a good five seconds tick by, and the silence gradually becomes strained, Hadrian finally nods at Draco's wand, "So are you going to use that or not?"
The stunned look of outrage on Draco's face is gold.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, Evans!" Draco snarls, jabbing out with his wand. "Oscausi!"
Hadrian has time to arch an eyebrow at the choice of a pseudo-silencing charm before he's flipping a quill into the fingers of his left hand. A swipe of his thumb leaves a chain of runes glittering along its shaft, and then he brings it up, catches the oncoming spell with the tip, and swats it aside with a flick of his wrist, all in one fluid motion. His right hand doesn't stay still either as his wand slides neatly into his palm, and a single wordless modified Expelliarmus darts out and attaches itself to Draco's wand.
The white light of the Mouth-Sealing Charm is sent soaring across the room, shattering against the door in a shower of harmless sparks, and in the heavy silence that follows, Hadrian smiles.
He thinks it's a very bland smile, if he does say so himself. At the very least, he's careful to not look too intimidating or too unhinged, the way he can sometimes get, if some of his dead friends were to be believed, back during the war. Nevertheless, it still makes Draco blanch white, makes Crabbe and Goyle shrink back, makes Zabini lean further back into a convenient shadow and Nott go utterly still from where he's sitting on his bed.
Hadrian glances down at the remains of his writing utensil, most of the barbs now burnt black. It was a regular quill after all, not exactly made to withstand so much magic. He looks back up, at Draco who has a white-knuckled grip on his wand, and with his own wand, he gives the other's a tug, just enough to make Draco's eyes go wide with something like panic, but not enough to actually disarm him and - considering the sheer amount of honed intent in the charm that even Draco can undoubtedly sense - most likely bend the wand's allegiance.
Hadrian holds it for a moment longer, and then lets go. Draco staggers back a step, jerking his wand down and reflexively pressing it into his chest as if he's trying to protect it, or maybe assure himself that it still belongs to him.
Hadrian tucks his wand back up his sleeve before stooping down to pick up the rest of the quills he'd dropped. The burnt one goes in the bin by his desk.
Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves. So Hadrian does.
"That took you almost five seconds," He begins almost conversationally as he opens a drawer to stash his remaining quills away. "From when you decided to fire that spell to actually firing it. And that's not even counting all the time you wasted saying the stuff before that, after you already took out your wand. It's stupid. When you draw with the intent to harm, you shouldn't give any warning at all. And the spell itself was slow. You should work on that."
He pauses, and there's still no response, which he supposes makes sense. He doubts anybody here wants to listen to him preach. He should just wrap things up since the plan is moving along so neatly.
"Anyway, this is pretty unfortunate," He switches gears and smiles again, as fit-for-public-polite as he knows how to be. It doesn't seem to make anyone feel better, but he also doesn't feel like he was that heavy-handed earlier, was he? Ah well, can't change anything now, and it's still in line with what he wants so it doesn't matter.
"I wasn't really expecting to make any friends since I know the average Slytherin's views on blood isn't exactly in my favour," He continues in light tones. "But I was hoping that we could at least remain on civil terms and get along as schoolmates, if only because we'll be living together for the rest of our time at Hogwarts. Since that doesn't seem to be possible anymore though, how about we just go with the simplest solution?"
Hadrian surveys the room and smiles some more. "You ignore me and I’ll ignore you. You attack me and I'll retaliate. An eye for an eye, so to speak. Everybody just needs to mind their own business, and there won't be any problems. That's fair enough, don't you think?"
His gaze settles once more on Draco. "Since you're the only one who's said anything so far, I'll assume you speak for everyone in this dorm. Draco Malfoy, right? So then, do we understand each other now?"
Across from him, Draco shivers imperceptibly like a rabbit caught at the wrong end of a predator's line of sight, but he also swallows and nods and gingerly puts his wand away. It looks like it costs him, but - at least for now - he seems both too shocked and too afraid to try anything else.
"Great!" Hadrian says cheerfully before cocking his head as a thought occurs to him. "Oh, right, one more thing."
He lets his smile fall away. Lets his expression smooth over into marble. And then he lets his magic flare, lets the pressure of it roll across the room like the black merciless depths of a storm-tossed ocean, lets it eclipse them all like death come to call, and then he brings it crashing down, not most of it, not even half, because he hasn't forgotten that these are children, that they're still young, and they can learn, they can be better, and Hadrian doesn't actually want to traumatize them permanently.
But he also remembers Draco - his world's Draco - telling him once, in a fit of aggravated exasperation during one of those times when they'd devolved into insulting each other's House traits yet again because they still hadn't understood what made the other tick, but they had also reached a point in their friendship where they'd started trying to, and kept trying.
"Slytherins respect power," Draco had said, not for the first time, but then he'd also added, for the first time, and haltingly as if he hadn't known why he'd had to explain it at all, "How else are you going to know they're worth your time? Or I guess worth befriending, in your Gryffindor terms."
"You don't decide whether or not to make friends based on how powerful someone is."
"Slytherins don't have friends. I only said friend because you're a Gryffindor and you don't understand anything else."
"Fine, you don't decide whether or not to associate with every single person you come across in your life based on how powerful they are either."
"Why not?"
"Why would you??"
"How else would you know they're strong enough to stand with you? Or competent enough to protect themselves? Power is a good starting line. If they're powerful enough, then they won't be afraid to face your enemies with you, and you can trust them to be capable of keeping themselves safe without having to keep an eye on them every minute of the day. Only brainless Gryffindors prefer doing things like throwing themselves in the line of fire and dying dramatically for each other and calling that a win. Let me tell you something, Potter - it's not a victory when you're forced to suffer a loss. You haven't won anything if you're not around to enjoy the aftermath. So the best allies must be ones who are powerful enough to not only achieve their goals but also survive them."
"…"
"Well, I will grudgingly admit that I didn't put quite that much thought into it when I was younger, but who did? …It's what I believe now though. Did I finally get it through your thick skull this time, Potter?"
After that particular conversation, Hadrian had understood a little better, even if he hadn't entirely agreed with it all. But he hadn't forgotten a single word, and Draco was right— as they are, these kids definitely aren't thinking that deeply, but Hadrian thinks that the core of it at least is the same. Slytherins respect power. And he has power in spades, so at the very least, he can make them respect him.
Of course, if that also happens to make them afraid of him, then, well, he was never aiming to be their friend or even ally anyway. So long as they leave him alone, it's fine.
He brings his magic to bear, allows the weight of it to fall and fall and fall, and he watches dispassionately as Draco goes grey, as Crabbe and Goyle's knees buckle, as Zabini flinches back like he wants to melt into the walls, as Nott curls into himself and may or may not have stopped breathing.
Hadrian catches Draco's eye, and doesn't let him look away. "I have no betters. Do I make myself clear?"
He'd spent half his life being beaten down by the Dursleys, told over and over that he was worth nothing, that he didn’t deserve food or clothes or kindness, that he was a waste of space and better off dead. He'd spent a good chunk of his Hogwarts career obliviously dancing to Dumbledore's tune, and then some more of it knowingly dancing to it because what else could he do with a target on his back. He'd spent over twenty years shackled to Voldemort, to his parents' legacy, to a war that had loved him a whole lot more than he'd ever loved it. And he'd been Fate's everything since before he'd ever even been born.
Some days, he wonders if he even knows what freedom is anymore. Or if he's ever known at all.
But one thing he is sure of is that he will never passively tolerate anyone controlling what he can or cannot do ever again.
Draco whimpers something like agreement, like deference, like surrender, and- that's enough. Hadrian reels it all back, all his magic hidden away again, and in the dizzying wake of its abrupt disappearance, Draco collapses, barely catching himself and his dignity with the edge of his bed. Crabbe and Goyle do crash to the ground, while Zabini has to steady himself against his nightstand, and Nott sways like he might faint.
Too much, Hadrian thinks distantly, and tries to feel bad about it because he really hadn't meant to go that far, but his lines in the sand have also long since blurred away beneath a tide of blood and corpses.
Mostly, he just feels tired, and it has nothing to do with his displays of magic tonight.
He breathes. Turns. Grabs a towel and his underwear and pyjamas and pretends everything's fine. It is fine, now. He's gotten what he wanted. "It's getting late. I'll shower first. Won't be long."
And then he's exiting stage right, straight into the bathroom, and it's a relief to close the door behind him.
Of course, that sentiment is one that's shared by probably every single person in the room.
-0-0-0-
3.
Theo is awake before anyone else the next morning. Or at least he thinks he is because he usually is. But everybody's curtains are drawn, and after last night, he doubts anyone was able to sleep right away, if at all, with the exception of their new roommate.
Hadrian Evans. Great Merlin, where had this person even come from? Even just the memory of his magic - vast and endless and utterly uncompromising - pressing down on them like the sky had fallen on their heads, makes his hands want to shake all over again. For a long, suspended, suffocating moment that could've lasted an eternity, Theo could've sworn he was going to die last night. And the most terrifying thing is that he is absolutely certain that Evans hadn't even been trying that hard.
Evans had radiated enough raw power to force all of them to their knees if he'd really wanted to. But he'd held back. He'd only given them a glimpse, just enough to warn them off. The rest of his magic had been out of reach, but present. It was there, reined in and waiting, but the shape of it and the depth of it had felt… unfathomable, as if it had no limits.
And that doesn't even account for the spellwork he had done. Theo had recognized the Disarming Charm, but last he checked, the average Expelliarmus only deprived a wizard of their wand. A more powerful one might send the target flying and even knock them out, but he's never heard of one that can… threaten to disarm your opponent at your leisure and - if Theo wasn't mistaken - force the wand to forsake its owner. Everybody knows that that's always a possibility in a real duel; if you win and take your opponent's wand, then that wand might not work for its owner anymore. But most of the time, you have to mean it, you have to set out with the intent to do it, the buildup of magic in the duel itself gives that intent a foundation, and there has to be an actual possibly life-threatening conflict of interest between the parties too, a real enmity that even last night - however excessive the exchange - shouldn't have qualified. Squabbles between students just don't count. If it did, with the Disarming Charm being taught in school, there would be a lot more students in need of new wands. The only way Theo can rationalize it happening anyway is that Evans must've been strong enough to compel the wand itself to leave its owner.
Pity he hadn't gone through with it in the end. Evans is powerful, but he's also… Theo is hesitant to call him soft, but if it had been Malfoy, if it had been Blaise or even himself or pretty much any other Slytherin, they would've done it. He's unsure of why Evans hadn't.
And then there had been the thing with the quill. Theo can't even explain that, and he'd mulled it over for half the night. He has the… incidental fortune of occupying the bed closest to Evans', so as soon as Evans had ducked into the bathroom last night, and the others had been distracted with pulling themselves together and possibly trying not to wet themselves, Theo had chanced a swift peek into Evans' wastebasket.
It really had looked just like any other regular quill, one that'd been burnt completely black and missing most of its barbs, but it had been a quill. He'd been tempted to open Evans' desk drawer to check the other quills, but - with Evans' ultimatum still ringing in his ears - he hadn't been that suicidal, so he'd refrained. But from what he could recall, the pack it had come from had looked just like the mass-produced writing utensils one could find in any stationery shop in Diagon Alley.
Whatever he'd done though, he had made it look like child's play. A quill and a Disarming Charm, so fast that Theo could've blinked and missed it. Could someone like that really have remained in obscurity all this time? Evans had apparently been homeschooled up until now, and they haven't even attended their first class yet, but by anyone's definition, after last night, he can't claim to be anything less than a prodigy.
It's… unbelievable. And not even because of any of the blood purity ideals that Malfoy likes to preach about. Theo doesn't think much of muggleborns or halfbloods, but he also doesn't think much of most purebloods, so he's fairly certain it's not high society prejudices that's driving his disbelief. It's just… He's never met anyone - not even his father, and Merlin knows Theo's been afraid of him for as long as he can remember - as effortlessly powerful as Evans had shown himself to be, and he doesn't understand how nobody has heard even a whisper of a rumour of this boy before he'd arrived at Hogwarts.
Someone like him shouldn't exist. Or perhaps there has been one, and that had been how the Dark Lord had made so many people bow at his feet or cower in their homes, but Theo had never met him in person, and so all he has is Evans' example to draw from. And not a single witch or wizard whom Theo's ever met could compare.
Has Evans just been hiding himself? Maybe his family hid him before they deemed him ready to face the rest of the world, and he's certainly proven that he can hide it when he wants to. But what kind of family can bring up this kind of wizard? Evans is only fourteen. None of them had thought him anything special before he'd revealed exactly how wrong they were. And he probably wouldn't have done even that much if Malfoy hadn't immediately taken a go at him, always so obsessed with making sure everyone knows he sits at the top of the food chain.
Well, he certainly doesn't anymore, and if Theo hadn't been caught up in the confrontation last night just like everyone else, he would've been tempted to applaud the spectacle of Malfoy being taken down a peg or ten. Before Evans' arrival, Theo was the one Malfoy liked to take jabs at every few days, and it was only partly because he'd had a halfblood mother. The Notts could've been said to be respectably rich once upon a time, but after the war had ended, with his father's political clout being almost nonexistent and most of their extended relatives either dead or in Azkaban, they'd been easy pickings for the Aurors. His father had escaped prison time with the Imperius excuse and some bribes, but that hadn't prevented multiple raids on their home and a hefty list of fines that had left their vaults near-depleted. And what little fortune they have left is reserved almost entirely for Theo's father's alchemy obsession that's more often focused on illegal research topics than not, as well as his black market dealings, although neither of those at least is widely known, or who knows if they would even have their ancestral manor left after the Aurors were done with them?
Malfoy loved reminding him of almost every one of those things as often as he could, and the most absurd thing is that - more than being born from a halfblood mother or poverty or loss of prestige - Theo's pretty sure Malfoy's biggest reason for disliking Theo is because Theo had refused to follow him around like Crabbe and Goyle back in first year.
So here they are now, and after three years, Theo had more or less become inured, not to mention it wasn't as if Malfoy only bullied him, or even bullied him the most - nobody could top that list while Potter and Weasley were around to fight for first place on it - but it had still been annoying and stressful because Theo was the only one who had to share a dorm with him. Considering the Malfoys' standing in society however, all he could ever do was stay silent and bear with it.
Admittedly, he'd been a little happy when Evans had been sorted into Slytherin, because between Theo and an unknown halfblood-at-best with no allies and no significant family background to speak of, the perfect prey in every way, Malfoy would definitely enjoy targeting the latter more, and even if the blond ponce still came after Theo, it would at least take some of the pressure off of him.
Now… well. That will still probably pick back up sooner or later, but Theo resents it less when he thinks about how it will take at least a few weeks before Malfoy will be able to strut around again after last night's humiliation. And also…
He thinks again of last night, of how Evans had basically smacked Malfoy down like he was nothing more than an unruly upstart getting above himself, and of that quiet oath too - I have no betters - and it hadn't even been pride or arrogance or superiority, only stone-cold certain fact.
He thinks of the fear he'd felt, but behind that, beneath that, more than that, there had also been nothing less than a breathless, heady, wondrous sense of reverence that had settled itself behind his ribcage, in his lungs, in the sudden hungry swell of curiosity that he'd just barely managed to lock behind his teeth, and it had only grown stronger after a night of fitful sleep.
He wants to see that magic again. He wants to know what else Evans can do.
And most importantly, he wants to know if he can do it too.
-0-
Ten minutes later, Theo hears Evans pull his bed curtains back. Very cautiously, he twitches his own curtains open half an inch to watch Evans get up, stretching languidly and scrubbing a hand through his messy black hair before gathering up his toiletries and a change of clothes. Like this, he looks completely normal, nothing at all like someone who could flatten all five of his roommates with a thoughtless flex of his magic. Even his eyes are just green now, no longer glowing like the light of a Killing Curse.
Of course, then Evans waves a hand at his window curtains, which obediently sweep open in response, and… yes, why not? Wandless magic seems par for the course for Evans, even if Theo has only ever heard of a handful of seventh-years capable of some very basic wandless spells if they concentrate hard enough.
Evans leaves for the bathroom as if casual uses of wandless magic is an everyday occurrence for him, and only after the door has closed does Theo let himself relax.
Evans had never even glanced over, but somehow, Theo thinks the other boy had known he was being watched anyway. But he'd said nothing, hadn't even given any indication that he'd noticed, let alone minded. Theo still isn't sure why he'd let Malfoy off so easily yesterday - because on hindsight, when it came down to it, all Evans had really done was scare them and scare Malfoy most of all; despite the verbal abuse and even the Dark charm Malfoy had shot at him, Evans hadn't actually hurt any of them in return - and Theo doesn't get it but maybe part of it is just because Evans doesn't take offence easily.
It seems unwise to Theo to not at least dole out some injuries as a reminder when that offence had been as insolent as Malfoy's, but perhaps Evans has his own measure of such things. Besides, Malfoy's known to say worse. Theo's looking forward to what happens if Malfoy forgets himself and says something even more loathsome. It's not impossible. Malfoy has been unchallenged since he came to Hogwarts. He's used to saying and doing whatever he wants, even to the upper years and those outside his own House. Most people ignore him when they can and indulge him when they can't, or otherwise manage or placate him with their own methods, but the one thing no one has ever done is tell him no, tell him to stop and make it stick. Potter and Weasley tend to give as good as they get, what with how short their tempers are, but they're louder and more obvious about it, so they get caught more often, which just makes them even angrier, so it never actually feels like they win, even when Malfoy doesn't either. Certainly, no amount of lectures or point loss has managed to deflate his ego.
But now there's Hadrian Evans. Theo doesn't need a second demonstration to know that Malfoy is outclassed in every way, but funnily enough, Malfoy himself might need it.
Theo eyes the bathroom door for a moment longer before finally getting up himself. He's barely set his feet on the rug before Blaise - in the bed on Theo's other side - also whips open his curtains, looking far more alert than he ever has this early in the morning.
For several seconds, they stare at each other in silence. And then - because he isn't sure if the other three boys in the room are awake yet - Theo pitches his voice even lower than usual and says, "He said Malfoy spoke for us."
Blaise blinks twice, and then something like distaste curves up at one corner of his mouth. "I heard."
Theo nods. They're on the same page then. Neither of them is particularly keen on this opinion that Evans has regrettably formed, Theo because of obvious reasons, and Blaise because he's Blaise.
Blaise has always been strange. He's the type who gets along with everyone and gets along with no one. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone - biased Gryffindors aside - who would say a bad word about him, but they'd probably have to think a while if you asked them to describe something of personal significance about him too. It's not that he's average - he's never failed a class, and he's especially good at Potions - but for all that he can carry a conversation in a way that makes everyone feel comfortable and included, and he could probably talk rings around a politician without making them feel stupid, he also never lets anyone close enough to actually get to know him. He's approachable, but only when he wants you to approach him. He's generous with his smiles, but sometimes, it feels a little like he's laughing at you. He might say something condescending or spiteful to you one day, but he has the kind of charisma that makes you forget that the very next. People might call him friend and invite him over for a chat or a game of chess, but most don't make any attempts to go beyond that. And if you know what to look for, as Theo has learned to do, you would realize - Blaise views the world like it's one big boring joke, and his estimation of most of the people in it is probably somewhere around the level of dancing clowns.
Theo doesn't mind. The two of them aren't friends either. They're also not enemies though, and occasionally, they can be allies, but only when Blaise feels like it. Sometimes, the other boy will distract Malfoy from messing up Theo's potion in class or launching yet another diatribe on all of Theo's deficiencies, but Theo will never ask him to because he has nothing to repay Blaise with.
It works for them. Blaise does what Blaise wants, and even Malfoy can't control him. Theo is secretly envious of that— with the Zabinis' seat of power in Italy, it means they don't have that much clout in Britain, and yet nobody messes with Blaise, not even the few who don't buy into Blaise's charm or simply hate him because he's a Slytherin. Not even Malfoy messes with him, and even Theo can't tell if it's Malfoy's self-preservation instincts kicking in to ensure that he isn't about to go insulting someone with a black widow mother like Blaise's, or if Malfoy genuinely hasn't noticed that Blaise doesn't respect him at all no matter how pleasant his words can be. Honestly, when it comes to Malfoy, there's a decent chance of either option being true.
With all that in mind though, it's not a surprise that Blaise isn't pleased with being slotted in as one of Malfoy's lackeys, especially by someone as impressive - or, as Blaise might put it, entertaining - as Hadrian Evans has swiftly proved himself to be.
"It's fine," Blaise says next, rolling out of bed to get ready for the day. He's already regained his typical lazy slouch, as if he hadn't been just as terrified as the rest of them last night. His eyes slide to the bathroom, then away, unreadable but more focused than Theo's ever seen them. "We live in the same dorm, and we'll attend at least most of the same classes. He'll see soon enough that we don't share the same opinions as Malfoy."
Theo watches him dig into his wardrobe. "And then?"
"Then?" Blaise tips a more familiar look of knowing amusement at him. "Then you do what you want, and I'll do what I want, and at the very least, we'll have the good sense to not throw ourselves straight onto a hippogriff's talons like dear Draco."
Theo smothers a snort and rises to his feet. Neither he nor Blaise take Care of Magical Creatures, but everybody had heard of Malfoy's idiocy last year. The phrase "my father will hear about this!" had reached a record high by winter's end. Not much had come of it, not when Hagrid had had the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore championing him. Even Lucius Malfoy would - and had, more than once over the years - find it difficult to contend with the British wizarding world's vaunted war heroes when they join forces. In the end, Hagrid could continue teaching so long as he did it alongside a second professor hired by the school, and even the hippogriff got to live. Malfoy had not been happy, and he'd made sure everybody knew it too, but at least he'd also whined less about it once Slytherin House had learned to snigger about it where he wouldn't hear.
But 'throwing oneself onto a hippogriff's talons' had become rather popular vernacular ever since, subtle enough that even Malfoy couldn't call anyone out on using it without embarrassing himself, but funny to everyone who understood, and nobody could even say who'd started the phrase. Theo's money would be on Blaise though.
The bathroom is spelled so that nobody outside can hear anything when the door is shut, but they can hear the lock click open just fine, and almost in tandem, he and Blaise both immerse themselves in picking out their outfits for the day as if it's a task that requires every last bit of their attention.
Evans walks out. True to his word, he ignores them completely, neither greeting them nor sparing them a glance as he moves back to his section of the dorm. Theo watches him out of the corner of his eye as the boy folds his pyjamas away before proceeding to pack his bag. He catches a glimpse of an Ancient Runes textbook, and his mind abruptly flashes back to the quill. But… that can't be right.
Evans shuts his bag, pulls on his robes, and toes on his shoes. Like this, there's something vaguely familiar about him that Theo can't place right away, and the thought is gone again as Evans slings his bag over his shoulder and strides for the door.
He still doesn't look at any of them, and he's gone from the room a moment later. They might as well have been empty air.
Theo's fingers tighten around the shirt he's holding. Somehow, he-
-doesn't like it.
-0-
Malfoy gets up two minutes after Evans is gone, moving around with an exaggeratedly unaffected sort of poise that makes Theo want to roll his eyes. At least the blond doesn't try to make conversation until Crabbe and Goyle wake up as well.
Evans aside, Theo is the first out of the room, as per usual, although this time, Blaise accompanies him up to the common room and out of the Dungeon. It takes no time at all to arrive at the Great Hall, and this early, most of the four House tables are still empty of students, although more and more are gradually drifting in in groups of threes and fours.
Unlike the other Houses who like cramming into whatever space they see, Slytherins are more political about it. The end seats are left to the outcasts or first-years who don't know better yet, while the midway point of the table is typically reserved for the most influential students, such as those with the best grades or the largest range of social connections or the strongest family background, or some combination of the three. And everybody else arranges themselves between the two extremes accordingly. The only time that changes - from what Theo has heard - is when someone is so magically powerful that they can overwhelm everyone else. Then it doesn't matter what grades or connections or background they have because magic is respected most of all, although they would usually have some qualifications in those other areas. But either way, they would be given reigning place of pride in the middle with their chosen followers around them, and everybody else would sit where they're told to sit, regardless of their accomplishments.
Someone like that hasn't come along in fifty years though, not since the Dark Lord was still at Hogwarts.
So it's jarring to see Evans seated at the very end, furthest away from the High Table, with a book open in front of him and a steaming mug in one hand, but Theo supposes it shouldn't be. He's newly transferred in, and a halfblood besides, so he probably doesn't know about the traditional seating arrangement, and since it's still just the second day of school, it's not as if anybody else outside their dorm knows that Evans is anything but the unfortunate fourth-year with a muggle surname sorted into Slytherin, so he really can be considered an outcast.
Theo exchanges a look with Blaise before tentatively taking a seat at their usual spot a few feet away from the halfway point of the table. It doesn't feel right to… go over Evans' head like this, but it's not like they can really do anything about it at the moment. Theo in particular is technically sitting above his station, but his family is still one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, no matter how far it's fallen, and he gets decent grades in almost every class. He's also on friendly terms with Blaise, and the fact that he shares a dorm with Malfoy is a double-edged sword. Malfoy has the status to sit near the middle ever since he was a first-year, and it wouldn't look very good for him if he's seen completely spurning a Nott in his generation. So Theo is largely left alone so long as he looks like he's nominally part of Malfoy's group during mealtimes.
Theo spends the next five minutes sneaking sidelong glances down the table. Blaise does the same, and neither of them is obvious about it so nobody comes up to ask them any questions. Other Slytherins begin filing in, and more than one wrinkles their nose or sneers when they pass Evans, as if they've smelled something repulsive.
Theo has to make an effort not to wince every time it happens. Blaise watches with a shallow smirk hitched across his face and something cold and callous and thoroughly amused in his eyes.
By the time Malfoy - with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him - sits down across from them, about half the table is full, plates of breakfast have started appearing, and Evans still hasn't looked up from his reading.
Malfoy - much less subtle - shoots something sulky and resentful with just a dash of fear down the table and mutters, "Doesn't even know how to sit properly."
Theo really does roll his eyes this time, although he makes sure to do it down at his scone. Before anyone can say anything else though, Evans unexpectedly straightens, his attention finally lifting from his book. Malfoy immediately stiffens as well like he thinks Evans had heard him from all the way down the table, which Theo wouldn't put past Evans's ability but also doesn't think that Evans thinks that Malfoy is worth that effort to eavesdrop on.
Evans looks around, but not at any of the Slytherins. He cranes his head over one shoulder, seems to catch sight of whatever he's looking for, and gets up, shutting his book and tossing it back in his bag. Then he's making his way across the Hall, past the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, straight over to the Gryffindor table that's only partially filled at the moment but is also hosting the Golden Trio, who had just come down for breakfast.
Evans stops a few feet away, and Longbottom, Weasley, and Granger turn to face him. What Theo can see of their expressions indicate that they're surprised and a little wary, but they also seem like they know each other. They converse about something, Weasley makes some exaggerated hand gestures, Granger smacks him, and then Evans says something else that makes the Gryffindors burst into laughter, startled but bright.
And then Evans moves forward and-
-sits down.
At the Gryffindor table.
Longbottom and Granger are smiling, and even Weasley - with his hatred for everything Slytherin - seems fine with it, going back to plating more food for himself while passing some sausages over to Evans.
In Theo's peripheral, Malfoy's face has lost so much colour that he could pass for a ghost. Theo can't tell if he's just that offended or if he's actually managed to comprehend the fact that he's already alienated possibly the most magically powerful student at Hogwarts from Slytherin House, to the point where that student doesn't even want to eat at the same table as them, and classes haven't even started yet.
Theo can't tell, nor does he care, but if he'd ever needed any more reasons to despise Draco Malfoy, this would be it.
He averts his gaze from Evans, even if the mere thought of him preferring a bunch of Gryffindors - and those Gryffindors at that; the only ones worse would be Potter's lot - over his own House is… grating. But staring isn't going to win Theo any favours and might just tick Evans off. Besides, there are plenty of others who have noticed a Slytherin sitting with Gryffindors, and they're staring enough for ten of him.
He starts on his breakfast. School has just begun. There's plenty more time in the future to observe Hadrian Evans.
-0-0-0-
4.
Within the space of a week, Theo is cautiously pleased to find that he shares all nine classes with Evans. The core subjects are mandatory of course, but in addition to Ancient Runes, Evans also takes Arithmancy, both of which Theo is also studying, and after three weeks, he gets a slightly more detailed picture of what Evans is capable of.
In class, Evans doesn't stand out, or at least not in a way most people would notice. He doesn't take the initiative to answer questions posed by the teachers, and his spells and potions aren't particularly dazzling when they're assigned practical classwork.
But every time a professor calls on him, Evans always answers correctly. Every time they have to practice a new spell, Evans doesn't clamour to be the first to show off, and he isn't the one who produces it with the most eye-catching burst of magic, but when he's asked to show his progress, he always does it exactly the way the teacher demonstrated it at the beginning of class. Even in Potions, all he does is work discreetly in the back corner on the Slytherin side of the room. He never finishes early, but he also never finishes late, never failing to turn in a textbook-perfect potion ten minutes before class ends, and a couple times, Theo catches Snape watching Evans with an inscrutable expression after the boy quietly hands in yet another flawless potion.
After three weeks, Theo can conclude that while Evans doesn't deliberately dumb himself down, and in fact is performing spectacularly across the board, he does it in such a reserved, inconspicuous manner that even most of the professors probably aren't going to notice until they've graded a good few months' worth of homework and tests.
He does it for every subject. Every single one, except Ancient Runes, and Theo is convinced that that's less because Evans didn't try, and more that… well, some brilliance just can't be hidden.
In the third week, when Babbling hands back their first assignment - Acceptables and Poors all around of course; some days, Theo isn't sure if he wants to strangle Babbling or himself, just to put himself out of the misery that is attempting to understand anything their Runes professor says - she holds Evans back at the end of class, and half the students snicker like they think he's in trouble or did so badly that even Babbling can't stand it, and it's the best joke they've ever seen. But two days later, some papers that Evans has left out on his desk while he's off doing something else, probably with his Gryffindor buddies, catch Theo's eye while he's on his way to his own desk. More specifically, the symbol of the Department of Magical Education stamped on them catches Theo's eye, and after some very hasty and very undignified neck-straining and squinting from a prudent five feet away, he more or less understands.
Babbling hadn't held Evans back because he was doing badly. Babbling had held him back because he was doing so good he would be sitting his Ancient Runes O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams on the twenty-third of October.
Three minutes after that revelation, Theo's still sitting somewhat dazed in his chair when Malfoy returns, Crabbe and Goyle in tow. The blond also spots the papers on Evans' desk and - after suffering day after day of, in Malfoy's increasingly belligerent opinion, being disgraced by Evans due to all the time he was spending with Gryffindors, and even three of the ones Malfoy hates most - practically lights up with a malicious sort of glee at the opportunity to get a little revenge.
He seems to have already forgotten that first night's lesson, and it hasn't even been a month yet. Sometimes, Theo is honestly baffled by Malfoy's Sorting into Slytherin. What ambition is there in a boy whose solution to everything in life is to fall back on his father and surname and family money? What cunning is there to speak of when he so often acts without even considering the option of leaving himself a way out, just in case his taunts and schemes backfire on him one day?
Or perhaps the real mystery is how he's managed to go this long without anyone telling him that the world won't always bend to his demands.
"O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams?" Malfoy says loudly as he wanders over to read the papers. He scoffs. "No matter how much magic he has, there's no way that's possible. He's just a fourth-year. And a halfblood! I bet he paid Babbling to sign him up for them. Everybody knows she's not all there so Evans wouldn't even have to pay her a lot to persuade her."
Theo flicks a glance at Blaise, who'd brought up the rear, a few seconds behind Malfoy, and had entered on near-inaudible footsteps in time to witness this latest snowballing disaster. The taller boy's lip curls, and his next words come out in such a nonchalant drawl that it takes a moment for Malfoy to register the bite of them, "Why would he do that though? He's not you."
Malfoy flushes an unflattering shade of red. "Zabini! That's not funny!"
Blaise's insults are always taken as jokes. Theo thinks that's the only way Malfoy can weather them, because he doesn't truly dare to cross Blaise, so even if he does know better, he still has to feign ignorance.
"It can't be possible," Malfoy repeats, turning back to the papers. "Otherwise, why hasn't he said anything about it? If it were me, I'd let everyone know! Obviously, he knows he'll fail, so he doesn't dare to spread it around."
Theo tries to wrap his mind around that logic, fails, and gives it up as a bad job.
"Then, why is he taking them?" Crabbe suddenly pipes up, blinking with a befuddled air in Malfoy's direction.
Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Obviously, Crabbe, it's to impress the Boy Who Lived. You've seen how Evans is constantly fawning over Longbottom." And there's the jealousy leaking into his voice even as it strengthens as if he's gaining confidence in his conjecture the longer he speaks. "He's still just a vulgar halfblood with subpar upbringing after all. He needs political connections if he wants to make anything of himself in our world. And Longbottom's a soft touch, and an idiot besides at everything that isn't digging in the dirt. Just trying to take the exams is probably enough to make him think Evans is a genius."
He takes another step forward, almost hovering over the desk now, childish spite tarnishing his features. "Let's see what the rest of Slytherin thinks of this. We are in the same House so Evans should look for support from real purebloods. I'll help him out."
Malfoy reaches out, and Theo goes still, staring, avid and unblinking.
(Greedy.)
Hadrian Evans does not disappoint him.
Malfoy's hand lands on the papers, and it's as if a miniature explosion takes place. There's no warning as the desk ignites with enough interlocked, interwoven, bloody intricate runes to send anyone reeling. It blankets the entire desk in layers of circles and lines and eye-watering spirals, before even those disappear in a blaze of brilliant silver light that pulses once before bursting outward and knocking Malfoy clean off his feet.
Malfoy screams as he's sent flying across the room in a tangle of flailing limbs and flapping robes. Coincidentally - or not? - he lands on his bed in a graceless upside-down heap, the bag he's still wearing smacks him in the face, and the momentum tumbles him straight over the far side of his bed and onto the floor with a final muffled thump that cuts Malfoy's shriek to a yelp.
The light disappears, along with the runes. The room goes eerily quiet, and for a long moment, nobody moves.
It's Blaise who reacts first.
He laughs.
It's enough to snap Malfoy out of his stupor. The blond scrambles to right himself, pushing to his feet, fury and humiliation writ large across his face as he opens his mouth to shout, "Shut up, Zabini! Wait until my father hears about this! Evans will regret-"
There's a clatter. The door opens.
Malfoy shuts up so fast Theo wouldn't be surprised if he bit his tongue.
Evans steps inside, and then stops. He looks around, looks at his desk, looks at a still dishevelled and increasingly pallid Malfoy, and then he shuts the door behind him and heaves a very deep sigh.
"Seriously?" He asks in rhetorical tones. "I just went to borrow a library book. I couldn't have been gone for more than thirty minutes."
Nobody says anything. Evans sighs again before striding over to his desk. He raises a hand and combs his fingers through the air— or perhaps something only he could see, and that's proven correct as a runic array shimmers into existence, swirling together before reshaping itself into-
-a memory.
Specifically, it's a replay of everything Malfoy had said and done as soon as he'd gotten within three feet of Evans' belongings, complete with sound and colour. It's basically a pensieve without the pensieve or the removal of memories to supply it.
Theo wants so badly that his teeth ache with the leashed desire to ask a million questions immediately.
Patience, he reminds himself.
"Hm," Evans says once the memory's run its course, and the runes wisp away once more. Theo is both surprised and not when the other boy proceeds to pull out his chair, sit down, and dig out his library book, clearly intent to continue his work.
Behind him, Malfoy seethes, and before he can think better of it, or he simply doesn't think, he barks out, "Do you think you can treat me this way, Evans? Do you know who my father is? When I tell him about this-"
"Tell him then," Evans interjects, leaning back to slant a cool look at Malfoy. "Tell him you tried to steal my things, and my wards tossed you onto your bed, and the only thing it really bruised was your ego. Or you can lie and make up something that would make you more of a victim, and big bad mudblood Hadrian Evans bullied you terribly. What's the worst that could happen? Expulsion?" He huffs a laugh, and as far as Theo can tell, the thread of mirth that laces the sound is astonishingly sincere. "Malfoy, I don't actually care. I don't need Hogwarts."
He really doesn't. Worse comes to worst, which other school would be daft enough to not scoop him up if they see what he can do with runes? And that's not even getting into everything else he can do. Any school would accept him in a heartbeat and then laugh themselves to tears if Lucius Malfoy actually managed to get him ejected from Britain's sphere of influence on some trumped up charges just because his son went crying to him. Besides, since Evans had been previously homeschooled, he could always just return to that as well.
Malfoy opens his mouth, then closes it, and he does that a couple times, eyes wide in his face like he's never met anyone who has stonewalled him this way, who has challenged his authority so directly, more than once, and yet remains utterly unintimidated and untouchable.
Evidently, he never has.
Evans regards him for a few seconds more before sighing once more. "I thought I was clear enough that first night, but apparently not. When I say 'attack', I don't just mean with a wand. All my things are off-limits unless I say otherwise, so if I were you, I would keep my hands to myself. You don't want to know what my wards will do to you if they sense intentions worse than just petty theft. I hope you won't forget again."
He holds Malfoy's faltering gaze for a moment longer before turning back to his books and papers. Malfoy stumbles back a step as if he's been physically released, and he looks like he wants to pitch a temper tantrum but also doesn't dare. In the end, he storms out of the room without even straightening his robes or smoothing back his hair, and nobody tries to stop him or go after him, not even Crabbe or Goyle, who've both retreated to their beds, shoulders hunched, almost bowed, angled almost in Evans' direction.
Evans is already poring over his library book though, quill in one hand, inkwell set out, fresh parchment beside it. It's clear he's done interacting with the lot of them.
Theo almost lets it go, as he has every other time he wants to speak to Evans, to ask him questions, to know. He's already biting his tongue and swallowing down the words and opening his bag to fish out his homework.
Except-
It's been three weeks. Theo can be patient when he has to be, but more and more, it's… starting to feel like he doesn't have to be. He's had an entire childhood's worth of practice at dissecting emotions, at looking at a person's face and words and actions and taking all of them into account to figure out how they really feel, if they're angry at him or upset with him, if they're about to lash out even when they're smiling, or if there's still time to appease them even if they look like they're about to go for their wand.
Evans is harder to read than most, but at the very least, Theo can tell that he doesn't get angry often. In fact, there's only ever been that one time, that first night, and even for most of that incident, Evans had only acted to secure his own safety in their dorm once it became clear that Malfoy wasn't going to leave him alone otherwise. None of it had been driven by rage, not even when he'd nearly drowned them in the undertow of his magic over that particular handful of words Malfoy had jeered at him. And ever since then, Evans hasn't done anything except go about his business while ignoring theirs. That went for the rest of Slytherin too, and even some students in other Houses who don't like the fact that he's a Slytherin. Sometimes, they make snide remarks, usually behind his back, sometimes within his hearing range, and to a man, every student in their House has openly shunned him since he went to sit with the Golden Trio that first breakfast, but Evans has never given them a second glance, or really even a first glance, not out of anger or embarrassment or distress, and certainly not out of any desire for them to accept him, which just seems to offend them even more. But Evans is simply… indifferent to it all.
Most importantly, as much as Theo has been able to conclude, Evans isn't prone to violence. He always seems calm and easygoing when he's with the Golden Trio, and quiet the rest of the time. And from the very beginning, he's never done anything to harm any fellow Slytherins, not even Malfoy. Even his wards seem to have some kind of function worked into them that would rate the level of threat first and only respond with the same degree of damage.
Actually, not the same— if Malfoy had been caught taking another Slytherin's documents without permission, important or not, it wouldn't be too much even if they cursed his hands in return. They probably wouldn't, because it's Malfoy, and people are used to being more lenient with him, but normally, even Malfoy wouldn't do something that gauche anyway. No matter how much they've spoiled him, his parents have at least taught him pureblood etiquette. He's never even tried to rifle through Theo's belongings.
Admittedly, Theo had committed a slight faux pas as well when his curiosity had prompted him to read those Ministry forms, even if they were laid out on Evans' desk - unintentionally seeing them in passing was fine but the polite thing to do would've been to keep walking - but at least he hadn't been stupid enough to get too close, let alone put a single finger on them. Malfoy really only has his own poor impulse control to blame for going too far yet again, and Theo has every right to judge him for it.
Although since it was Evans, Malfoy had probably categorized him as someone who doesn't deserve a pureblood's courtesy.
Even then though, Evans hadn't retaliated with anything more than the ward equivalent of a watered down Knockback Jinx, which is basically a common prank amongst rowdier students. Malfoy's pride had - once again - been hurt, but nothing else, even when it would've been Evans' right. And he hadn't gotten angry this time either.
Of course, Theo isn't foolish enough to think Evans isn't capable of violence when he wants to be. If he's pushed far enough, Theo is certain that the other boy could and would inflict some significant damage that would at least end with a visit to the Hospital Wing. Perhaps it was his magic, the relentless weight of it that said it wouldn't hesitate to crush them if they proved themselves a real threat. Or perhaps it was Evans himself, who looks at Malfoy after each stunt like he's putting up with a recalcitrant child that he has to go easy on because said child is too young to know better, except the detachment in his gaze also says that he's weighing Malfoy's age on a scale and waiting for the day his youth will no longer be able to compensate for his actions.
Frankly, Theo hopes that day will come soon. But that's his pettiness talking, and Malfoy in general is none of his concern. What Theo really wants is to learn all those things for himself. Well, not all, he's more than self-aware enough to know he's nowhere near as powerful as Evans, but some of those things - the spellwork, the runes - surely those things can be taught to others even if they don't have incredible amounts of magic? Even if it's slow-going and difficult, Theo isn't afraid to work for it.
So long as he learns even just a little of what Evans knows - and he clearly knows so much, knows the things that can actually be useful in real life - then perhaps, one day, maybe even before he graduates Hogwarts… escaping his father won't be a fool's hope anymore. And if there's a chance that he can do that, then no matter how exorbitant the price Evans names, Theo would be willing to pay it, even if it takes him the rest of his life to honour the debt.
But nothing's going to happen if they're not even on speaking terms. It's been three weeks. Already three weeks. Only three weeks. Maybe it really is still too soon, but at the very least, Theo doesn't think Evans will do anything worse than say no.
At his back, he can feel Blaise's eyes on him, but he doesn't turn around.
"Is that-" His voice doesn't crack, thankfully, but it comes out croakier than normal, giving away his nervousness. He bites back the urge to hex himself and tries again. "Is that taught by the time we graduate?"
Evans… doesn't react, doesn't even look up. For several tense and increasingly awkward seconds, Theo thinks maybe the other boy will just continue ignoring him, or maybe he even thinks Theo is speaking to one of the others, not him.
But then he writes something down and flips a page of his book, and then he raises his head and shifts away from his desk to face Theo.
It's a little daunting, to suddenly have that piercing bright green regard aimed straight at him, but there's also no hostility that Theo can see, and that settles some of his nerves.
Evans looks at him, then frowns, then asks in return, blunt, but amazingly, willingly enough, "You mean the wards?"
Theo nods carefully, making sure he doesn't look too eager or too demanding. Masters of their trades are always rightfully reticent about their knowledge and skills to anyone who isn't their own mentor or apprentice, unless they're a teacher. Evans may not be a master signed and sealed and authorized to practice, but nobody who can write the exams at fourteen can be considered an amateur.
Evans shrugs. "I haven't exactly flipped through the Ancient Runes syllabus of every year so I can't really say. If it continues at the same pace as third-year and fourth-year though, then probably not. You'd maybe get to the point of basic wards, but not much more than that. Compound wards like these-" He raps his knuckles against his own desk. "-put crudely, requires the use of runic coils to weave together multiple basic arrays, on multiple levels, in varying sequential order depending on how multifaceted you want the wards to be. It's not that difficult once you start getting some practice in, but from what I hear, you guys don't even begin practical work until after your O.W.L., which… I don't really get, but maybe Hogwarts is big on theoretical learning. But yeah, at that rate, I don't see how you could be constructing something like this by graduation."
Theo's head is spinning. He didn't understand… anything in that summary except perhaps a general idea of "basic arrays". It's rare for him to feel so stupid.
Evans is still watching him, and he doesn't seem impatient for their exchange to be over, or irritated that it's taking place at all. He looks like he's waiting for Theo to reply, so Theo hurries on to keep the conversation afloat.
"So you didn't learn Runes following the Hogwarts curriculum when you were homeschooled," He surmises. "Does that mean the standards here fall short of the international schools?"
It wouldn't be the first time. Britain's educational requirements have been growing more and more lenient for years. Correspondingly, their elective options have also been reduced to four due to budget cuts and lack of interest in anything harder than petting animals and making up death predictions. Every year, more second-years choose to sign up for Care and Divination than they do Arithmancy or Runes. It's one reason why the number of incoming students has been gradually declining and consists of more muggleborns than purebloods. Foreign schools are strict about accepting any children outside of their designated countries, but those in Great Britain and Ireland who want better for their kids and can afford the higher prices tend to prefer sending them to one international school or another instead of Hogwarts.
But Evans shakes his head. "I wouldn't know that either. I didn't really follow any official curriculum when I was learning." He pauses a beat, like he's thinking about how much to reveal, or even why he's revealing anything, but then he seems to decide it doesn't much matter. "The person who taught me was a bit… unconventional about it. He was a very good teacher, but he wasn't actually a teacher with the degree and whatever else you need to be a Ministry-approved professor, so he didn't really care about following some checklist of what a student attending a magical school was supposed to learn. Plus he was kind of a genius at runes. Ward-cracking and disassembly in particular since that's what he majored in - he was a Curse-Breaker - but he was pretty good at almost everything else too, which meant he found the basic stuff pretty boring. So when he taught me, and he realized I didn't have any trouble getting the foundations down, and I could mostly keep up even when he skipped ahead to more advanced stuff, he basically ended up just jumping between the subjects he liked most, filled in any gaps along the way, and gave me free rein to research whatever I found interesting. And whatever topic I picked was the one he lectured on, or helped me look up if it was one of the few areas he didn't know much about."
His expression turns wry, if only for a moment. "Apparently though, according to Babbling, that means there's nothing left for Hogwarts to teach me. But I don't know how I would compare to students in other schools."
He finishes and falls silent. It's the most he's said since that first night, and it's clear as day that whoever this Curse-Breaker tutor was, Evans respects him a great deal, great enough to ramble on about him to a roomful of near-strangers, and considering what he'd had a hand in molding Evans into, he deserves every bit of that respect too.
Theo envies it. He is oft a creature of envy, and it hollows him out a little more every time it rears its head, but he's resigned to it. He wonders why Hogwarts can't have a teacher like Evans' instead of the whimsical mess that is Babbling, who can never get through a single class without her train of thought wandering away like an untrained dog off its leash.
"Then," Theo continues, carefully neutral, carefully watching for any signs of displeasure on Evans' face. "Once you pass your exams, will you simply have an extra study period slot? Or will you be required to attend another elective?"
Evans blinks at him. "The first, I think. I might see if it's possible to take an owl-distance university course or something, but spare time in my day isn't bad either."
"Then," Theo forges on, watching as Evans's mouth twists a little, like he knows that this is what Theo has been aiming for from the beginning. Theo can't tell if he disapproves though - he doesn't think so - and it's too late to divert his course anyway. "What do you think about tutoring?"
Evans cocks an eyebrow. He doesn't say anything for several anxiety-inducing seconds, just scrutinizing Theo with a face blank enough to rival Snape's when he bothers to stop sneering. The quill in Evans' hand taps-taps-taps against his desk before the boy swings around in his chair completely to face Theo.
"Tutoring," He repeats. "You want me to tutor you in Ancient Runes?"
And at least he doesn't sound derisive, nor does he put any particular emphasis on any part of that question. It does make it harder for Theo to gauge how he should respond though.
"Yes," He confirms, because straightforward seems to be what Evans prefers. He thinks, briefly, of including Blaise, but he doesn't actually know if Blaise would like tutoring as well, and even if he does, Blaise can ask for himself. Theo isn't that charitable, and Blaise might even take offense if he tries to be.
"I can compensate you for your time," He adds, because he's poor by pureblood standards, but not so poor that he can't afford decent education, especially with the nest egg he's been secretly building on the side since he turned eight and realized his inheritance was only going to get smaller at the rate his father was drawing from it for his… extracurriculars. His seven years at Hogwarts at least have already been paid for, robes and supplies and even some pocket money included, because even Silas Nott isn't going to let his son go into public at even more of a disadvantage than he already is. So as long as Evans doesn't ask for a huge sum of money, or even if he does, and he's willing to take part of that payment in favours, then Theo should have enough from his own funds to cover the cost.
Evans leans back in his seat and doesn't say anything about payment. Instead, he looks almost puzzled as he asks, "Why do you need tutoring though? Even if you want to learn stuff like this," He motions at his desk. "I wouldn't be able to even start teaching you how until you got at least the basics down, and that's what Hogwarts teaches, so is there any point in getting more of the same lessons from me?"
For a moment, even Theo can't come up with a way to say 'yes, because Babbling can't teach worth a damn, and I don't actually know how I passed last year but I definitely won't this year with the way her lectures keep getting lost somewhere between class and Atlantis every bloody week' but in more polite terms, if only because Evans might not appreciate anyone badmouthing her since she's obviously the one vouching for Evans' qualifications in order to let him take his exams so early.
Fortunately, Blaise has no such compunctions.
"Have you seen the way Babbling teaches?" The other boy enquires in his usual lackadaisical tone, just aggrieved enough to sound invested, but mild enough to leech the provocation out of it. It also gives Blaise a foot in through the door, drawing Evans' attention to him without making it seem as if he's interrupting.
Theo glances behind him at where Blaise is now lounging in his own desk chair, emptying his bag of textbooks and papers even as he glances over to meet Evans' gaze, and his expression has eased into an invitation to commiserate over Babbling's questionable teaching methods. All of it is designed to look casual and cordial, to keep this fragile first exchange lighthearted, if also full of a resigned sort of exasperation, funnelled together in order to lower Evans' guard.
And it seems to work too, like it does with everyone Blaise turns his charms on. At the very least, the way Evans' mouth quirks in response looks reflexive enough to be genuine.
"That's fair," Evans concedes, a wry sort of humour suffusing his voice. "She's not the best at… staying on topic."
Theo has to suppress a snort, but something of it must show on his face anyway because Evans' eyes snap back to him, and a moment later, a quicksilver grin flits across the other's face, bright in a way that lights up his whole face, and perhaps Blaise will have to try harder after all because Theo realizes that this is what genuine looks like on Evans.
"Okay, I get why you might want a tutor," Evans acknowledges. "But isn't there anyone better for that?"
Theo blinks at him. "Better than someone who's ready to take his exams in a month?"
Evans' eyebrows go up briefly, and something in his eyes sharpens. "No. Better than someone who's a halfblood orphan in Slytherin, stuck in a one-sided grudge-match with a pureblood brat who has all the maturity of a toddler and isn't going to be very happy if his friend starts hanging around the guy he wants to curse into the Hospital Wing."
Orphan? is Theo's first thought, followed by, I wish Malfoy was around to hear that. But all of it is superseded by a defiance that bursts out of him before he can curb it, "We're not friends."
Evans waves a hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Slytherins don't have friends. What I mean is-"
"No," Theo says, wincing internally at how he'd cut Evans off mid-sentence. "I mean, we aren't friends. Normally, we aren't even civil acquaintances most days."
Evans eyes him for a long moment like he can hear all the things Theo isn't saying. Theo's pretty sure Evans doesn't know about his family's circumstances - How would he? Why would he even care to look it up? - but he seems to be able to glean at least the gist of it in a single glance because he seems to accept it easily enough, and the next thing he says is, "Alright, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still not going to be happy about it."
"Good," Theo says, once again before he can stop himself, and with more relish than he should convey. Even if he's often thought that anything that made Malfoy unhappy was a good thing, he's certainly never expressed it out loud. He doesn't know what's come over him, only that there's something about the way Evans is watching him, patient and without judgement, that makes him… bolder than he normally would be.
And since he's already opened his mouth, he might as well keep going.
"So long as you're willing, I don't mind what other people might say," Theo says as firmly as he knows how to be. "I need to raise my grades for Ancient Runes before I take my OWLs next year or I'm never going to pass. I would appreciate any tutoring you can spare the time for." He hesitates, but only for a beat. "If you want, in addition to monetary compensation, I can also snub Malfoy at dinner somehow. And you would know it wouldn't just be some show we put on either. Malfoy doesn't have it in him to be humiliated in public, even as a stunt."
It's far more outspoken and far more audacious than Theo is accustomed to being, and he can feel Blaise's eyes on him again. But he gets the impression that if he doesn't put his cards on the table - that he really does want to learn from Evans, that it's his main motivation, even if it isn't the only one - then Evans might think Theo is playing some kind of trick on him, possibly on Malfoy's orders, and that's the last thing Theo wants him to believe.
Besides, this is also an opportunity. Theo had been resigned to living under Malfoy's temperamental rule for the duration of his Hogwarts career. It wasn't as if he wouldn't be doing more of the same as an adult, after all. Considering the difference in their social status, Theo would still have to bow his head, and jump when told to jump, and remain courteously - or at least forbearingly - deferential in front of Malfoy whenever they see each other. At least this more childish version at school is giving him plenty of practice for the future.
But now, there is Hadrian Evans, whose existence no one had expected and no one thus far can control, who isn't afraid of Malfoy, whom Malfoy is afraid of instead, and Theo honestly can't see that changing. Of course, the real world is very different from some squabbles between teenagers, and Theo has only known Evans for less than a month. But… call it instinct. Even if one day the Malfoy family can really make it so that Evans can no longer live well in Britain, Theo gets the sense that the other boy would rather up and move to a different country than ever submit to anyone.
People with inborn power like Evans won't bow. They don't know how to.
And if Theo can get even a fraction of that protection that openly siding with Evans might earn him, then the choice is obvious. He's long known that he isn't powerful enough or ambitious enough or even brave enough to stand on his own. That in order to thrive, or even to simply live a satisfactory life, it would be best to choose someone's shadow to settle in. Preferably, that someone would be willing enough to leave Theo alone most of the time and wouldn't ask too much of him, but he already knows he wouldn't be able to get that from his father or Malfoy.
Then, there's no point clinging to either of them. Before, there had been no other choices, and between his father and Malfoy, Malfoy was the better bet, though it wasn't as if the blond ponce could've gotten him out from under Silas Nott's thumb either. But at least being - loosely - affiliated with Malfoy would, in the future, offer Theo some protection from his father's obsessive tendencies. It wouldn't do for one of Malfoy's circle of acquaintances to disappear under mysterious circumstances after all.
Now there's a new player on the field. Of course, Evans probably doesn't see himself as one, and wouldn't care even if he knew. But that doesn't change the fact that his shadow casts a long and looming line, and somehow, it feels more like a refuge than anyone else's Theo has ever come across. Evans might not be willing to protect him, if only because he would have to make himself known to do so, and if there's one thing Evans has shown over the past few weeks, it's that he much prefers staying in the background. But even if he isn't willing to protect Theo, at the very least, he can teach Theo how to protect himself. So, Theo might as well take his chances with Evans, and the first step in doing that is to make it very clear to all and sundry that he's throwing his lot in with the halfblood Slytherin transfer.
He hadn't quite been prepared to go this far when he'd first decided to speak to Evans today, but doing things by half measures doesn't bode well for him either. Prevaricating or at least being vaguer about his intentions might leave him an extra hand to play, a way to retreat in case associating with Evans becomes too dangerous one day, but no one likes a fence-sitter.
In Slytherin, every decision is a power play, whether it seems like it or not. An insignificant word or action might result in large consequences that aren't always obvious until the waves and ripples have settled. And Theo's never been much of a gambler, preferring safety over potential riches. But the things he can learn from Evans are too tempting to pass over. Put in plain terms, he's technically using Evans as a means to an end, which no one in Slytherin wouldn't approve of, but for a good chunk of this House, Evans' blood would definitely outweigh any usefulness he might have, especially since he hasn't publicly proven himself in any way at all. And the way he spends all his free time with Gryffindors hardly helps.
Still, it's a risk Theo's willing to take. And now the Quaffle is in Evans' hands, and all that's left is to wait for his answer.
Of course, if Evans says no, then Theo can only hope Blaise is feeling magnanimous today and won't go spreading this little story around. Then again, there's Crabbe and Goyle too, and they'll definitely tell Malfoy, so it will get out either way.
Such is Slytherin, where the only shared secret you can trust to remain a secret is when all other parties are dead.
In front of him, Evans only raises his eyebrows for a moment before amusement quirks one corner of his mouth. "Well you don't have to go that far."
Theo can't tell if the other boy understands the implications of publicly cutting ties with Malfoy, but he's relieved to hear it anyway. He'd do it if it's a condition Evans sets, if only to alleviate any concerns Evans might have of being played, but it's not as if he wants to do it. He would happily see Malfoy humiliated any day of the week, but Theo is at heart an introverted person. Open confrontation of any kind will always make him uncomfortable.
Evans studies him for a while longer as if weighing his sincerity. Eventually, he says, "I'm not opposed to tutoring. Actually, I'm already doing that for Hermione every Wednesday and Saturday. Adding one more doesn't make much of a difference. It's just that I don't love tutoring so much that I want to do it more than twice a week. So," He smiles, and this time, his expression is one of a sharp sort of curiosity. "If you want me to tutor you, then you'll have to be okay with Hermione. And I don't just mean tolerating her presence enough to sit at the same table as her. I mean if you say one bad word about her blood, I'll take that as an attack on me and react accordingly. Understand?"
Theo blinks once, twice, digesting that ultimatum with something like disbelief because- "Is that all?" And then, because it couldn't possibly be that easy, he hastily tacks on, "How much would you like to be paid?"
Evans blinks back at him, looking like he's re-evaluating Theo on the spot. Then he makes a dismissive gesture and says, "I'm not short on money. Also I don't make Hermione pay so it wouldn't be fair if I made you pay." He sits back with a finality that starts bringing an end to their conversation. "Wednesdays and Saturdays, 4-6pm in the library. I know we share all the same classes so that shouldn't be a problem for you. Showing up isn't mandatory, you can just come whenever you want, and I'll tutor you in whatever you need help with. My only condition is that you treat Hermione with basic respect. Of course," His mouth twists into a strange smile. "That goes for her too. And her friends if they happen to stop by."
Theo has to suppress a grimace at that, but it's mostly out of reflexive distaste. Even if Weasley starts flinging insults, he's sure he's heard worse than anything a Gryffindor could come up with, and his tolerance is high, so it doesn't much matter whether Evans can prevent it or not. Actually, it's already pretty novel that he would try at all. This is by far the easiest and weirdest deal Theo has ever been offered, which only makes him that much more suspicious, but Evans also adds no other terms, so Theo is forced to conclude that this really is all Evans wants from him.
The sheer unfairness of what each party is bringing to the table is jarring. Does Evans not understand what's happening here or is he seriously willing to offer up his time and knowledge on a silver platter at basically no cost?
Part of Theo wants to ask again, to make sure Evans really doesn't want anything else, but since they've come to this point, even if Evans were to ask for something in the future, Theo would have no obligation to give it. It's admittedly somewhat uncomfortable, to receive so much in exchange for giving back so little when he wasn't even the one manipulating Evans towards this outcome, but at the same time, wouldn't he just be stupid if he keeps pushing the issue? Complaining about not having to spend any money or owe any favours seems rather counterproductive, and even though Theo is willing to pay for a chance like this, that doesn't mean he wants to if he doesn't have to. Of course, he supposes it isn't very honourable of him to not at least insist on some form of compensation, but that's why Theo isn't a Gryffindor.
So then.
"Very well, I agree to your terms," Theo says, letting himself relax a bit more when Evans' expression doesn't change. And because even a Slytherin should acknowledge genuine goodwill, he shoves past his own discomfort and manages, if a bit stiffly, "Thank you, Evans."
Evans makes a face that's something left of embarrassed. "It's just tutoring, you don't have to be so formal. Besides, you're still the one who's going to have to put up with Malfoy pitching a fit once he finds out."
Theo almost shrugs. That's not anything new. He might have to field some curses hurled his way once other Slytherins realize he's no longer under Malfoy's "protection" and is seen spending time with a halfblood, but it's not as if he has no way of protecting himself from most spells that a student can get away with using in public at Hogwarts. He already has a few family wards set up around his bed too, so Malfoy can't get to him while he's asleep, and the only time he spends in the Common Room is when he's crossing it to leave the Dungeon or return to his dorm, so his Housemates aren't likely to be able to corner him there either. So long as he's careful, he'll be fine.
Blaise's voice cuts into his thoughts, speaking this time with the lightest touch of concern seeping out from behind a thin veil of indifference that would've fooled even Theo if Theo didn't know the way Blaise can change his approach like he's changing clothes depending on his assessment of the person he's talking to. "You sure you don't need to ask Granger first before letting a Slytherin join your tutoring sessions? She might not be too happy to have Theo there. And her friends definitely won't."
Evans' attention shifts again, and as with Theo, his gaze is neither friendly nor hostile, but it's different all the same in a way Theo can't quite name. "Is that my problem?"
The room is quiet for a beat.
Evans smiles, careless, casual. "I'm the one doing the teaching. Who I teach should be up to me, shouldn't it?"
Blaise stares, unblinking, hands finally gone still. "Aren't those Gryffindors your friends though?"
"Sure," Evans agrees. "Still doesn't mean they get to tell me what to do just because they're biased against Slytherins." He shakes his head. "I doubt it'll be much of a problem though. Like you said, they're my friends, and aren't I a Slytherin too?"
Nobody says what Theo is certain they're all thinking— that in many ways, Evans isn't anything like your average Slytherin.
(And in others, Evans is the very epitome of one, but the Golden Trio probably doesn't know that, do they?)
"Are you saying other Slytherins are welcome in your tutoring sessions then?" Blaise says next, and it's the most straightforward Theo has ever seen him, skipping at least three prevarications and five backhanded compliments that Theo could've sworn Blaise would normally include just because he doesn't know any other way to speak. Apparently not.
Except Evans' response is to huff a breath that sounds like laughter, except not in any way they've heard before, not as amicable, and Theo sees Blaise's smile grow a little fixed.
If they were in the business of distributing vices, then excessive hubris would undoubtedly go to Malfoy, but only because Blaise doesn't have the same reckless self-defeating habit of flaunting what he has everywhere and retaliating like a rabid lapdog the moment he feels slighted, the latter of which is helped along by the fact that he doesn't hold many people in high enough esteem for them to offend him. After all, you wouldn't get mad if a ghost or a goblin or even a house-elf - as unlikely as that is - is rude to you, would you? At most, you'd punish the latter and move along with your day. And for those who do register enough as people in Blaise's eyes, well, Blaise far prefers retaliating when the other party least expects it.
It's the same now, in the way Blaise blinks twice rapidly but doesn't otherwise react. Of course, since this is Evans, he won't be able to retaliate later either, not with any kind of success, so it's doubly impressive that the other boy manages to keep his pride nailed down and tucked away.
"You know," Evans says lazily, mirth or perhaps mockery gleaming in his eyes. "You could just ask. Take a leaf out of Theo's book; it wastes less time."
Because even Blaise's straightforwardness needs to take a stroll or two around the block first, and apparently, Evans had caught onto that possibly since the first time Blaise had opened his mouth since this conversation began.
Blaise's lips thin, but after a moment of no doubt weighing the pros and cons, he shrugs gracefully like it doesn't sting and asks, "Then, may I join your tutoring sessions, Evans? I would also appreciate some assistance with my Ancient Runes studies. Of course, I will abide by the terms you've set as well."
Theo listens and wonders just how much self-control those three sentences took. Before today, he hadn't even known Blaise was capable of it, and the fact that he is, for this, actually says a lot more about his regard for Evans than Theo had realized even just a minute ago.
At least Evans doesn't make it harder for Blaise than that.
"Sure," The other boy acquiesces with the air of a predator sitting back on its haunches. "On your own head though."
At this, a trace of a smirk - his real one, beatific in its cruelty, instead of his regular fit-for-public one - cuts across Blaise's face for the span of a heartbeat. "No problem."
Evans levels another long look at him before shaking his head with another twist of a smile. "Okay then. We're all good now?" He looks from Blaise to Theo and even spares half a glance in Crabbe and Goyle's direction before nodding, satisfied. "Fantastic. Back to work for me."
He spins back around to face his desk, reaching for his quill, and the rest of the day passes as usual, without another word traded between them, even when they all get up for dinner. Malfoy comes back shortly before that, stalking over to his section of the dorm with the mulish single-minded intensity of someone unwilling to even acknowledge Evans' existence, although that probably won't last once he finds out what Theo and Blaise have agreed to.
Later, in private, Theo remarks to Blaise, "I didn't expect you to care so much about your Ancient Runes grades."
Blaise slants an indecipherable look at him even as a shallow smile stretches the width of his mouth. "Who wouldn't care about their grades when someone's offering to help raise them for free?"
It's a rhetorical question and answers approximately nothing, but Theo wasn't expecting anything of substance anyway.
Besides, when it comes down to it, he supposes it's not so surprising that Blaise can also see which way the wind is blowing, hard enough to tell anyone with decent enough instincts that a major shift in power is imminent.
And no one likes a fence-sitter.
-0-0-0-
5.
Hadrian would like it to be known that he isn't quite sure how he's gotten to this point in his life.
Well, that's a lie, he sort of knows, or at least he can pinpoint all the decisions that got him from Point A to Point B, but he supposes he just wasn't expecting a couple Slytherins whom he'd always assumed - even back in his original world - were just Malfoy's lackeys in school, to commit, and commit hard. They hadn't even participated in the war on either side, as far as he was aware— Nott had died relatively early on under mysterious circumstances, and Zabini had by all accounts returned to his home country. To Hadrian, they'd been little more than faces in the background that he'd never even exchanged five words with in total before coming to this world.
But within the first week after they've asked to join his tutoring sessions, Nott and Zabini - Slytherin/Pureblood Rule Number Who-Knows-What: you can't use someone else's first name until you're invited to - make it really fucking obvious who they're… supporting? Have sided with? Because Slytherin is a nest of brewing factions and shifting alliances and political doublespeak and even a couple blood feuds, and this is precisely why Hadrian doesn't want anything to do with this House.
Except apparently, agreeing to tutor Nott and Zabini means he's… joined the power struggle? Formed his own faction? Decided to vie for in-House supremacy and possible world domination? Who knows because Hadrian sure doesn't, and he's determined not to know, because surely if he just continues doing his own thing, it'll become clear sooner or later to all and sundry that he has no interest in fighting a bunch of schoolchildren over whatever they think he wants to fight for.
It's just that he can't quite do that either, because not even three weeks after Nott and Zabini start joining him in the library every Wednesday and Saturday with a wary but accepting Hermione, something that translates to them moving their seats to sit with him in class and - when they can make it look natural, if still deliberate - walking with him in the hallways, the displeasure and animosity in Slytherin House reaches breaking point.
It's not as if Hadrian hasn't already been the target of multiple hexes and curses from his own Housemates. He's a halfblood who hangs out with Gryffindors— it's to be expected. But so far, the spells have always been in the realm of reasonable, ones that might make him trip down the stairs or rip his bag or screw up his potion, and he's been able to block or avoid them all, so he'd figured it wasn't that big a deal. He'd put the fear of a Horntail in Malfoy early on because he has to live with the berk, and he doesn't much feel like returning after a long day of classes just to have to butt heads with him every single time. But he basically has no intersections with the rest of the House, so he just hasn't bothered paying attention to any of them.
Then, perhaps rather suddenly, Nott and Zabini are there, not so much orbiting him as they do hover from afar. But they join his tutoring sessions, and they're serious about learning from him, listening earnestly and asking questions and even checking out the books he recommends they read if they have time. There are holes in even the most simple of their fundamental knowledge of Runes - Babbling, read a how-to book on teaching for Merlin's sake - so Hadrian has to more or less start from the ground up, as he had with Hermione, but both of them quickly prove themselves more than intelligent enough to keep up, and they're startling enthusiastic - by Slytherin standards - about everything he teaches them. Nott is more obvious - more ravenous - about it, but even Zabini - who likes to pretend he's only there for the novelty of it or something and therefore tends to play up a laidback sort of indifference - never fails to complete the optional exercises Hadrian writes up for them once a week.
And outside of the tutoring sessions, it's like they've decided that being tutored by him means that he's now their new Malfoy or something. Not that Malfoy was their Malfoy before, if Hadrian had understood Nott correctly, but they'd at least acted like they were part of Malfoy's groupies. Now they've done a one-eighty, and it's not as if they follow him around all the time the way Crabbe and Goyle do with Malfoy, honestly if you don't count classroom and dorm room, they're not even around him half the time, especially Zabini, but when they are around, when they move their cauldrons next to his in Potions class despite working separately, when they go down to breakfast with him despite splitting off at the entrance, when they trail behind him back to the Slytherin Dungeon after a tutoring session, they're so damn conspicuous about it that they might as well be waving neon-bright signs above their heads.
In contrast, they don't even sit next Malfoy during mealtimes anymore, much to the blond's increasing red-faced ire that vaguely resembles a Silenced teakettle on the brink of boiling over. But now they sit at the end of the Slytherin table, which Hadrian has gradually gathered that that's not a good thing, but he doesn't know how to fix it either, and neither Nott nor Zabini seems to mind.
They also talk to him now, not often, not just in private, and not just about Runes, although that does still take up the majority of their conversation topics, if only because they don't know each other that well yet. But in their dorm or in class or in the library or in the halls, sometimes, Nott would say something completely normal, like whether or not he owns an owl or if he's noticed Snape's increasingly intent attention on him or if he's found the secret passageway connecting the Dungeons to the sixth floor yet because climbing six flights of moving stairs isn't what anyone would call a good time. Zabini on the other hand prefers sharing obscure gossip that even most of Slytherin isn't aware of, sordid little secrets like whose parent has a mistress (or three) on the side that will very likely cause an inheritance problem down the road, who killed a cousin over the summer due to jealousy but has done a decent enough job of covering it up as an accident because said cousin had been the heir apparent, and even who had to go to Pomfrey for an Abortion Charm just last week but will likely have to break her betrothal contract - and consequently have her magic bound, as per the terms of said contract - in the future anyway because there's no hiding the loss of her virginity from the olde family magicks no matter how frantically she searches for a way.
To the former, Hadrian responds the way he would if Neville or Ron or Hermione were to ask him similar questions. To the latter, he says, "You have serious issues, Zabini."
Nott never smiles, but his body language is a little less closed off and his eyes look a little less hunted with every random conversation they have. Zabini is almost always smiling, and in response to Hadrian's incredulity, he only laughs like it's the grandest joke he's ever heard.
They grow on him, is the thing. One's probably abused at home, and the other is honestly half a psychopath already, and Hadrian shouldn't care but he's always had a bit of a soft spot for broken people, people who don't quite fit in no matter how well they fake it, people who remind him of himself. And the war he'd survived had only served to destroy what little compunctions he'd ever had about getting too close to dangerous things.
So they grow on him, day by day, and half a month in, the other Slytherins apparently can't handle it anymore.
Hadrian's just coming back from dinner. Nott and Zabini are with him, having joined him once he'd bid Neville, Ron, and Hermione goodnight. They're halfway across the common room when Hadrian catches movement in his peripheral, and he has half a second to decide what to do, to abort the reflex to go for his wand, to cancel the shield ward sparking at his fingertips, to pivot around on the spot and abruptly swing himself right into Nott's personal space, which means Nott immediately puts on the brakes, and - behind him - Zabini has to do the same.
Hadrian senses more than feels the curse that grazes the back of his robes and splashes against the far wall between a pair of suspiciously empty armchairs in an area that's normally a popular hangout spot. There's no sound, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees the way it oozes a sickly viscous purple that puddles to the ground and eats straight through the carpet before finally evaporating into nothing.
He doesn't turn his head, doesn't challenge anyone into a duel the way his hands are itching to do. Instead, even before the spell disappears, he's already asking, "Did you copy down the Potions assignment from today? I just remembered I forgot."
In front of him, Nott's turned three shades whiter, and he's already pale-skinned to begin with, so he obviously recognizes the spell. Zabini clearly does as well if the way he's gone gargoyle-still is anything to go by.
If they'd continued walking, that curse would've hit Nott right in the ribcage. His left ribcage.
A beat of silence passes. Then Nott takes a breath and answers in a voice that doesn't waver but is even more inflectionless than usual. "Yes, I wrote it down. I can show you."
"Cool, thanks, let's go."
Nobody else speaks, nobody even moves, as Hadrian leads the way back to their dorm.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle aren't back yet so they have the room to themselves. As soon as the door is shut, Nott almost slumps onto his bed, hands shaking. Zabini pulls out his chair to sit, a smile hooked at one corner of his mouth, but absolutely nothing about the rest of him says amusement.
(Slytherins don't have friends, and Zabini doesn't seem to know how to have friends, but Nott's probably the closest to one that his disposition will ever allow.)
Hadrian looks from Nott to Zabini and back, and then he asks, "Who was that boy? The one surrounded by that group by the fireplace."
The one who'd fired the spell. Don't think just because a bunch of students were arranged in front of him that Hadrian had missed the way his arm had moved, the jab of a wand, the blossom of light at its tip before the curse had flown across the room. Did they think he was blind?
Nott blinks up at him, features still pinched. It's Zabini who answers, soft as silk, "Malcolm Avery, seventh-year."
Hadrian takes a moment to digest that, to press that face into his memory before filing it away for later. He focuses on his roommates again instead and presses on, "Has this sort of thing happened before?"
Because even if they're spending time with him, Nott's an old pureblood name, isn't it? And Zabini is Zabini, and everybody's heard of his mother. Even if they're shunned a bit, jeered at a bit, even hexed a bit, any serious assaults should only be aimed at Hadrian, right?
Well, apparently not. That curse earlier had been a much Darker cousin of the Bone-Vanishing Spell, a variation on the more public-friendly Bone-Breaking Curse. If Hadrian hadn't seen it coming, if he hadn't stopped Nott in time, that thing would've not only shattered the left half of Nott's ribcage but also stabbed the resulting fragments directly into the nearest organs before dissolving into the bloodstream as a lethal poison— in this case, it would've been the heart and a lung. Nott would've been dead in under a minute, drowning in his own blood in extreme pain, and it's a tossup if even Hadrian would've been able to save him.
Zabini - unsurprisingly - shakes his head. For all that he doesn't have an old bloodline to rooted in Britain, he still has enough family clout to grant him a strong backing. And that's not counting his own means of protecting himself. Hadrian had actually gotten the feeling very early on, from the moment they'd had their first conversation, and he'd only been proven right as they'd gotten to know each other a little better— Zabini has all the best traits of a quintessential Slytherin. And thereby also all of the worst. Magic-wise, Hadrian can overpower him in a second, but that's why Zabini knows not to make an enemy of him, knows how to bend and stretch and profit while he's at it. He doesn't need anyone to protect him.
Nott on the other hand doesn't reply right away, and when he does, it's an evasive, "Spells like that would be an instant expulsion from Hogwarts, especially coming from a Slytherin, and from a seventh-year, they'd go straight to Azkaban. There are portraits all over the school. I'm not stupid enough to wander into places where there aren't any."
Hadrian aims a flat look at him. "That's not what I asked."
Nott purses his lips and stares at his lap. Hadrian waits him out.
"…They've tried cornering me," Nott finally admits, grudgingly, almost resentfully. "There's no avoiding a couple areas with no portraits. But they never used a curse this Dark before, and I've always been able to slip away."
Hadrian swallows the first three things he wants to say, to shout, because at his core, he likes to think he has a long fuse, but when someone crosses his line in the sand, his temper has always been explosive and violent, which won't help here.
Besides, hadn't he more or less told these two to handle the consequences of letting him tutor them on their own? Even if they weren't Slytherins and actually had the mind to reach out for help, they probably wouldn't have come to him after what he'd said, so he has no one to blame but himself and the fact that he'd underestimated just how deep some Slytherins' senseless hatred runs.
So he breathes through his first instinct, his second, his third, and then he pushes off the desk he'd been leaning on in favour of pulling out parchment and ink and the appropriate books.
"Alright, come here," He beckons, spreading everything out on his desk. "I'm gonna teach you a Fourfold Rebounder Ward so you can wear it on you from now on. The variation I'm thinking of has a chameleon element, so it'll be both strong enough to deflect a curse on the level of the one from earlier and also camouflage it when it's bounced back at whoever attacked you. It's based off of intent too, so it won't act up in a scuffle or a practice duel or something, the other person has to really want to harm you with deadly intent, so keep your guard up for other stuff, and honestly, this should just be for emergencies, you should still try to dodge it because it's not good to grow overly dependent on stuff like this. I'm confident the runes won't fail when I'm the one making it but your reflexes will get rusty if you get lazy. It's a bit- okay, a lot more difficult than anything you're learning right now, but I'll do most of the work, you just watch and provide the magic at the end, and once your foundation is a bit more stable and we can move ahead to more interesting things, I'll come back to this first so you'll be able to learn how to do this yourselves one day."
A long silence follows. Hadrian looks up. Neither of his roommates has moved. "What's wrong?"
Another few seconds tick by. It's Zabini who gets up first, an odd smile on his face, one that Hadrian's never seen before. But all he says is, "Nothing's wrong. I was just hoping if we waited a bit, Malfoy will get back in time to see what we're doing and finally keel over from high blood pressure."
Hadrian snorts with laughter. "Get over here. If that really happened, we'd be the ones who'd have to waste time carrying him up to the Hospital Wing."
Zabini's expression says that that wouldn't be his problem but he only smirks and saunters over to Hadrian's desk with his chair. When they both turn to look, Nott is already on his feet as well. He doesn't say anything, but he looks steadier, and he's watching Hadrian with a strange gleam in his eyes that makes them look almost feverish.
They settle down around him, eager - by Slytherin standards - to learn in a way that reminds Hadrian exactly why he likes to teach.
He gets to work, explaining each step even though he knows most of it is going over their heads. That's fine though; for now, these wards just need to protect them properly, and in the future, he'll teach them how to protect themselves.
-0-
Of course, things aren't over just like that, because Hadrian's temper is an explosive and violent beast, and the only things that's changed from when he was still a teenager is the fact that he's gotten a lot sneakier about it as an adult.
They aren't friends. But Nott and Zabini are his roommates and his students and kids that he's starting to genuinely care about, and nobody gets to walk away scot-free after fucking with the people under Hadrian's care so long as he's still alive to do something about it.
Malcolm Avery is seventeen anyway. That's an adult by any magical community's measure, which means Hadrian doesn't have to hold back.
It takes a week. A week of slipping out after curfew and eavesdropping on conversations, of finding out what the seventh-year's next practical Potions class will be working on and scanning all of Avery's belongings to see what Dark spells he's been mucking about with, and finally of filching Avery's cauldron for an afternoon while he's in class and replacing it before he returns to his dorm.
When it happens, Hadrian isn't even in school. Even if he were, it wouldn't matter because he'd made sure to time everything just right, and all the fourth-years - and most of the rest of the student body too - are already in the Great Hall waiting for lunch to be served. Seventh-year Potions is in the morning block, and Avery always goes overtime when there's a practical.
Hadrian isn't even in school, sitting his Ancient Runes exams at the Ministry all day instead, but he certainly hears all about it when he gets back that evening.
A few minutes before noon, a silver doe Patronus comes bounding up from the dungeons with an urgent summons for Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Nobody hears what is said, but the three staff members rush off even as the food begins to appear, and nobody hears from them again until half an hour later when whispers start going around about Healers from St. Mungo's being called and one Malcolm Avery being carried out the front doors on a stretcher because his condition is too unstable to be transported through the Floo. The professors don't really tell them anything except that there was a Potions accident, but - as these things do because the rumour mill at Hogwarts is healthier than ever, and there'd still been a few other seventh-years in class with Avery at the time - everyone more or less knows what happened anyway by the time afternoon classes start. Potions is cancelled for the rest of the day, because no one else was injured but Snape was too busy furiously documenting what had happened after running multiple diagnostic spells over the remains of Avery's cauldron to teach. Also, he has to submit said documentation and a Pensieve memory to the Aurors investigating the accident, which doesn't exactly say great things about his mood, so nobody's unhappy about being able to give Potions a miss.
Apparently, Avery had been using his cauldron to make other potions - banned potions - in his dorm room. His roommates had been willing enough to keep mum and even give him a hand, and the book he'd been learning from had been found in his trunk. Thankfully, he hadn't managed to make anything too terrible yet, and his failed attempts hadn't managed to kill anyone, but he also hadn't cleaned his cauldron properly, and so there'd been a mess of residue potion and Dark magic clinging to the metal. Coincidentally, it had ended up reacting quite badly to the potion that the seventh-years were to work on that day, and the end result was a magnificent explosion that Snape had barely managed to protect himself and the other students from in the nick of time. There'd been no helping Avery who'd been standing right next to the unholy concoction.
In the aftermath, the explosion had caused bad enough burns to disfigure Avery, but time and Healers would fix most if not all of that. Far more serious had been the potion damage to his body— the liquid had seeped right through his skin and disintegrated the majority of his left ribcage, and then it had gone on to chew even further, straight into his heart and left lung, an insidious venom that had dissolved into his bloodstream and sent him into convulsions that had wrung scream after agonized scream out of him until Pomfrey had deemed it safe enough to knock him out, although even then, his body wouldn't stop seizing from the pain.
He'd still been alive when he'd been rushed out of the castle. Word has it that he's still alive now in St. Mungo's, except the Healers have no idea how to even begin treating him. Mixing multiple failed attempts at Dark potions, most of which even Avery's own roommates couldn't list all the names of or in which order he'd made them, together with one N.E.W.T.-level potion but in an explosion that had caused the maximum amount of entropy in the magic imbued into it— Merlin himself wouldn't be able to fix it with just a wave of his wand.
By dinnertime, everybody is talking about it, and the professors have given up trying to stop them.
(In truth, the outcome probably wouldn't have been quite so serious if Hadrian hadn't added a spell to amplify the toxicity and volatility of the residue in the cauldron, as well as several looping single-use runes to hide the volcanic buildup and also bind the whole thing to Avery alone so that it wouldn't have hurt anyone else even if Snape hadn't reacted in time. Without Hadrian's interference, it would've still exploded sooner or later, but Snape might've seen the danger signs in time to evacuate everyone from the classroom, and even if he didn't, the effects of the potion on Avery probably wouldn't have been so terrible.
But then, that wouldn't have been enough. After all, lessons like these should stick.
Avery will live, but he sure won't enjoy it.)
It's almost ten by the time Hadrian gets back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Snape drops him off at the entrance before sweeping off to his own office in a dramatic billow of irritably flapping robes. He'd been at the Ministry for half the day just to piece together what had happened for them, but as Hadrian had ensured, the Potions master had been cleared of any negligence in the matter. The potion had very obviously shown no signs of exploding - three other experts had verified - and students are expected to take care of their own cauldrons from third-year onwards without the professor having to do weekly checks. Snape had been released by dinnertime, but he'd apparently decided to simply eat in the Ministry cafeteria and return with his student and Babbling, so here they are.
Except-
Just before Snape makes to leave, he turns and pins Hadrian with a long appraising look, clinical and penetrating. Hadrian stares back serenely, and maybe the fact that his mind is a steel trap wrapped around a battlefield would be highly suspect to anyone looking in, but he also doesn't feel so much as a brush of Legilimency from Snape whatsoever. The professor really is just looking at him.
It's a strange new world.
In the end, Snape doesn't say anything before walking off, and Hadrian is left to blink after him before letting himself into the common room.
Everything goes eerily silent the moment everyone realizes he's back. Even if he hadn't said anything, someone - let's be real, it's Malfoy - had spread the news of Hadrian taking his Ancient Runes exams early, so pretty much everyone had known where he'd gone today. It was never a secret though so Hadrian hadn't cared, except when he steps into the room, it's very obvious that everybody is focused on him, and just as obvious that nobody is willing to make eye-contact with him.
The younger students should've already retired for the night. At least everybody still in the common room, studying or playing chess or chatting with each other like any standard evening, are fifth-years and up, so most of these students had probably known - or had been told after the fact - exactly what that curse would've done to Theo Nott that day, and exactly who had been the one to attack him.
And everybody knows what had happened to Avery today. More specifically, they know that what had happened to him today had been an almost perfect mirror of what he'd wanted to do to Nott one week ago. Nobody here believes in coincidences, and there's only so many people who would've had the motivation to orchestrate the entire accident down to the smallest detail.
Most of them have known Nott and Zabini for at least a few years. Perhaps they're not on speaking terms, but they'd still been Housemates for a while. Something like this isn't really Nott's style, and while it is Zabini's, neither of them has the ability.
The only real unknown is Hadrian Evans, and if they still can't put the pieces together at this point, they might as well sell their brains.
The area by the fireplace, normally always occupied by Avery's group at this time, is empty today. Avery's at St. Mungo's, his roommates are in overnight lockup at the Ministry, and any who aren't but were part of Avery's faction are probably hiding up in their rooms. Nobody else has taken their seats, not even the students who usually do when Avery hasn't claimed it for the day.
Hadrian walks towards the doorway leading to the boys' dormitory, and no one stops him. It feels like the entire room is holding their breaths. Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves until Hadrian is out of earshot.
The dorm is likewise very quiet when Hadrian enters. Malfoy's bed curtains are already drawn, as are Crabbe's and Goyle's, but Zabini's are open, and he's lazing against the headboard with a book in his hands while Nott is still at his desk doing homework.
They both look up as soon as the door swings open. Zabini stays on his bed but Nott even stands up as Hadrian shuts the door behind him. His whole frame is tense with a restless sort of energy, and he's staring at Hadrian with shining eyes. They both are, although in different ways. Zabini looks equal parts ecstatic and hungry, while Nott just looks the kind of deeply confused and deeply grateful that makes Hadrian want to set fire to someone, preferably whoever stitched this very expression into Nott's range of emotions out of the pieces they'd torn from him.
Nobody says anything right away. Hadrian squints at them as he makes his way to his own bed, feeling vaguely perturbed, because he hadn't truly expected them to not connect what happened to Avery back to him, but he hadn't thought they would be so fixated on it either. Maybe a roundabout tactful thank-you from Nott, an offer of a favour at most. But not… this, whatever this is.
He laments the fact that these two aren't more stupid when it comes to this sort of thing. Ron would be oblivious. Hermione would be determinedly oblivious. Neville… would actually react a bit like Nott, Ginny would react a lot like Zabini, Luna wouldn't react at all but she'd be extra cuddly for a few days, and gods, Hadrian needs saner friends.
Not that these two are friends of course.
He manages to get through a shower, brush his teeth, and climb into a bed before Nott is suddenly at his side, eyes still shining with something Hadrian really doesn't want to put a name to. Thankfully, he doesn't burst into any heartfelt speeches that would probably embarrass everyone within hearing range. Not so thankfully, he honest-to-fucking-Merlin bows, all archaic and meaningful in every way Hadrian has never learned and so doesn't understand, but even he can sense the weight and deference behind every word as Nott murmurs, "All of mine is yours, until the end of days. I would be honoured if you would call me Theo."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Hadrian mutters, because sometimes wizarding swears just don't have enough oomph to encompass the never-ending circus trainwreck that is his life. He scrubs a hand over his face, peeks at Nott - at Theo - who's still halfway bent over, and of course, it's just his luck that he has no idea how to respond in the proper pureblood way.
He would've preferred the heartfelt speech.
"I'm a halfblood, I don't know how to respond appropriately," He says bluntly because he doesn't know what else to do. But he also flicks a Silencing Ward at Malfoy's bed, then at Crabbe's and Goyle's as well because you can never be too careful, and then he leans over and hauls Theo upright and catches his gaze and holds it, "I'll call you Theo if you call me Hadrian. One day, you'll be strong enough to take care of your enemies on your own, and you won't need anyone else to do it for you if you don't want them to, but until then, if all of you is mine, then your enemies are too, so I'll deal with them if it turns out that they still haven't learned after today. That makes us allies from now on though, which means we're equals, and that means you never, ever bow to anyone again. Not me, and not anybody else either. Understand?"
Theo stares again, wide-eyed and lost and so terribly young, and sometimes, Hadrian wonders what it says about just how messed up the world is when broken kids can be bought so easily.
Finally, almost dazedly, Theo gives some semblance of a nod.
"Hadrian," He says, and something about him straightens, grows steel, settles.
"Hadrian," He repeats and dips his head, not a bow, but respectful all the same, and his eyes are still bright with that unnamed creature, but at least he looks at Hadrian head-on. "Thank you. Goodnight."
Hadrian sighs and figures that this is about the best he's going to get tonight. Maybe it'll dial back to normal in a few days. "Goodnight, Theo."
Theo smiles, tiny, crooked, a little awkward. It's the first one Hadrian has ever seen from him, and that at least he can't be upset about.
They can finally go to sleep though. Theo returns to his own bed, Zabini is still watching them both from his bed like they're his new favourite show, and Hadrian resolutely pretends he doesn't see anything else as he takes down the Silencing Wards before drawing his curtains, rolling over, and promptly making a sincere attempt at smothering himself with a pillow.
His life.
-0-0-0-
End Notes: Ok wow so this got hella long and I didn't really get to all the stuff anon wanted whoops. Theo just… wouldn't stop thinking lmao, and also this AU has the potential to get so big so I ended up cramming in worldbuilding wherever I could. So unfortunately all you get is sort of a starting snapshot of where this is going and how Hadrian is going to turn out and a shitload of Theo's character. I kind of wanted to do him and Blaise's POV but I could only fit Theo, and I feel like getting Blaise through Theo's POV actually added to his character just as much as a personal POV would've. Anyway, those two are basically blank slates in canon so ofc I would pick them to write lolol.
#headcanon meme: answered#HP series#c'est la vie#hadrian evans#theo nott#blaise zabini#draco malfoy#headcanon#slytherin hadrian au
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TMNT All 4-1 Challenge: March Entry
@turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch
A/N: This is actually SFW… I swear. Changed the wording a bit for the prompt sentence I picked because I had this idea and it kinda fit but not exactly with the way it was originally. Hope that’s okay. Little late but it's still March ^_^"
The layout for the Bay!Lair doesn’t really work for this but I wanted it to be Bay Mikey so… just pretend the descriptions I used fit?
*While this is SFW, all characters depicted and/or mentioned are 18+*
Pairing: Bay!Mikey x reader (She/Her, "Y/N" used)
Prompt:
“I’m new to all of this. Can you show me where to start?” -> “I’m [still] new to all of this. Can you show me [what to do]?
Words: 716
Raph was heading past Mikey’s room when he overheard the two. The door was closed, but the room was far from sound proof.
“I’m still new to all of this. Can you show me what to do?” he heard Y/N ask. It was late; he didn’t know she had decided to stay the night. She and Mikey had only started dating a few months ago and, even though the boys were all adults, Splinter still had rules for when she slept over. The door being left open was rule number one.
“Of course, babe. We gotta be quiet though,” he heard Mikey say back.
“Okay.” He heard her giggle.
“Get comfortable. I’ll be honest with you… we might go all night.” Raph’s brow shot up and he blinked. Were they-? No… they couldn’t be. As he stood there blinking at the door he didn’t notice Leo rounding the corner. The blue banded turtle tilted his head at the sight in front of him.
“Wh-?” Raph’s hand was over his mouth before he could finish, ‘what are you doing?’ Leo pushed his hand away but before he could say anything he hear Y/N exclaim in a whisper,
“Jesus, Mike, this thing is huge!” Leo blinked and the two looked at the door. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Hey, you got this. I know you can take it, baby. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”
“Well yeah but… look at it!” They heard Mikey laugh.
“Just take it slow. No need to rush and end up getting hurt. Like I said, we got all night.”
The best word to describe Leo and Raph’s expressions was “NOPE” and the two quickly headed as far from their youngest brother’s room as they possibly could while staying in the lair.
…
The next morning, Raph was loudly crunching his cereal and Leo had just sat down with a steaming mug when Mikey and Y/N walked into the kitchen both looking slightly sleep deprived but extremely happy.
“Good morning,” Y/N said with a big smile to the two before moving to the fridge.
Raph and Leo glanced at each other. Raph had the excuse of his mouth being full. Leo cleared his throat.
“So uh… you two…” Leo started.
“Uh, us?”
“Finally did it then, eh Mike?” Raph asked. Leo shot him a look.
“Huh?” Mikey blinked before it dawned on him. “Oh! Hehe, yeah. Took most of the night,” he admitted.
“It was so hard and I got so close to finishing so many times,” Y/N said with a slight groan of annoyance. The two blinked at her.
“But she stuck with it like a champ,” Mikey said, patting her on the back.
“Oh come on, you helped,” she said.
“No no,” Mikey held his hands up. “Y/N did all the work, I just sat there and enjoyed the show.” Just then Donnie walked into the room with a mug, heading straight for the coffee machine.
“Morning Don, Mikey and I finally did it!” Y/N exclaimed. Leo and Raph watched to see his reaction and were perplexed when he didn’t even turn away from the counter.
“That’s great,” Donnie said, refilling his mug of coffee - because of course it wasn’t his first and of course he had been up hours before the rest of them.
“We recorded the whole thing if you wanted to watch it,” Y/N said.
“Sounds good,” Donnie said with a thumbs up. “Just send it to me whenever.”
“Okay, I’ll send you the link now,” Y/N said, getting out her phone.
“Link?” Leo asked.
“Mhm, I put it up on YouTube. It already has over 500 views!” Leo and Raph’s jaws dropped.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Raph exclaimed and the three turned to him. “Hold up a sec… I feel like we’re missin’ something.” He looked at Leo with a brow raised.
“What are you three talking about exactly?” Leo asked slowly.
“The last boss on that game I got Y/N for her birthday. She finally beat it,” Mikey said before tilting his head. “Why… what did you think we were talking about?”
“Nope,” the two said in unison without missing a beat before escaping the room leaving the remaining three to share looks of confusion.
... ...
A/N: Kinda does and doesn't fit the theme... (Raph and Leo thought it did anyway)
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