#I did it with my mom and sister and it devolved into counting how many of our characters were murderers

[xionandpluto14]

[canvas-the-florist]

Kat and Ann

Warnings: Bullying, transphobia mention, swearing, abuse mention, food mention, kidnapping

Summary: Kat never felt like an individual as she grew up until she made a friend.

Word Count: 2737

Kat was thirteen when she changed her name. Not that it mattered, everyone called her by her last name just like her ten other siblings. It wasn’t a big deal, and Kat was fine with that, it made it easier to transition too. Who could make fun of you for being the trans kid when several of your siblings were as well? She wasn’t singled out. Wasn’t much of an individual either. Kat went to school, studied, and got average grades. Most of the time, at least. She loved her family! Kat wasn’t close with all of her siblings, sometimes lost count of how many there were, but she appreciated them overall. So, why did she always feel so lonely?

When she was fourteen she stopped someone from beating up a kid on the ground after school. He was scrambling for all of his stuff and she sat next to him to help. “Hi, I’m Kat!”

“Oh, um, I’m Anthony.” Kat examined his face. There were two identical large scars coming up from his cheeks. “Thanks, for standing up for me! No one’s ever done that before, not even my brother.”

She helped him up and threw him his stuff. He mostly just looked nervous, scratching his face. Kat didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable or anything so she flashed a quick smile. “Well if your brother won’t help I will! That’s what my siblings would do at least… Do you need to go home now?”

Anthony made a grimace, wrinkling his nose. “Not particularly. I don’t think anyone will notice. I live close by anyway. Don’t need a carriage or something to take me there.”

“I live close by too!” Kat exclaimed. She considered all the possibilities. Anthony hadn’t mentioned any of the other Katabazi’s and so far it seemed like they could be friends. Maybe this would be nice? “That means it’s official. We need to check if we can walk home together.”

“Won’t your siblings mind?” Anthony asked, and Kat let out a loud sigh (mostly in disappointment) after he finished talking. “Oh, are you not a Katabazi sibling? Sorry I just assumed with the blue crystal necklace and- I shouldn’t have assumed that was rude of-”

“Dude, it’s fine.” Kat gave a smile. Her hand went up to the necklace. It probably was a big giveaway but it was also important to her. A shard of good luck charm passed down through her family. It used to be her grandmother’s. The original was hung up on a wall, but it was still significant.“I’m a Katabazi but now you know my first name so let’s stick with that, alright? Or should I call you… Ann or Tony?”

Anthony let out a laugh, as they both walked through the small trail through the woods. “Honestly I wouldn’t mind Ann. Anything’s better than Tony. It sounds like I’m interested in attending galas or exploiting the working class. No thank you.”

��Okay, Ann! No galas or exploitation for you~!”

-

    Kat and Ann kept walking through the woods to get to and from school once they realized they lived close to each other. It was fun to have someone to kick pebbles with or avoid fairy circles with. Eventually the leaves started falling and Kat put on a long jacket, with her necklace underneath it. On a walk home, Kat was balancing on an old wall covered in moss, Ann was walking along next to her, dragging his feet. “Hey, Kat?”

    “Yeah?” They both stopped walking. 

Ann gulped. “You’re a girl, right? My brother says you’re not and well, he’s usually wrong. Is he just… Being a dick? Or have I just been misgendering you?”

Kat’s arms dropped. Well, that’s one way to come out. She sniffled, but wouldn’t back down. “I’m a girl. Excuse me for saying but your brother is an idiot for being like that.”

“Okay, that’s what I thought.” The two kept walking but Kat still felt like she wanted to cry. The leaves blew past them, picking up Ann’s hat. Kat caught it and looked at Ann. He looked like he wanted to cry too. “Kat I’m glad we’re friends. My brother doesn’t understand human decency but he still got into my head. That was my mistake. I won’t doubt you about that stuff ever again!”

There was a pause as the wind picked up. Kat stared him down with a squint before putting his hat back over his curly blonde hair. “Good! Because your brother doesn’t decide how the world works. We do.”

“Both of us? We aren’t gods or anything.”

Kat shrugged. “How do you know? I mean cursed people do exist, who’s to say their magic is the only kind out there?”

Ann shifted uncomfortably, covering it with a laugh. “Yeah! We can be gods if we want to! Fuck nature! Fuck stupid brothers! AAAAAHH!” He held up both his hands and yelled to the sky. Kat laughed loudly before joining with a scream of her own. The two continued screaming, seeing the birds flee from the trees and the wind grew louder, like nature itself trying to drown them out.

The yelling devolved into laughing, they both fell to the wall for support. The wind died down and they were both sitting on the wall silently. Every once and a while they would shake the leaves from their wool clothing and go back to watching the scenery of nature. Ann took a deep breath. “I think my brother hates me for being cursed.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kat asked, looking at him. He shrugged.

“I don’t know… I mean I can’t do anything cool or bad but he’s mean about it.” He crossed his arms angrily. “And dad thinks that Garrett is the perfect child for not having headaches all the time or being slow or…” Kat put her hand on his shoulder as he wiped his eyes. “I just don’t understand. I try so hard not to let the curse control my life but I can’t help it! But sometimes I go into his dreams and he got mad at me about it.”

“Well, your brother doesn’t deserve you! I would love to have a brother like you! You’re nice and you don’t just assume what I’m like based on my family. It’s nice! YOU’RE nice.”

“You want me to be your brother? Is that a thing that can happen?”

Kat shrugged once more, crossing her legs on the wall. “Absolutely. We’re the gods remember? Who cares if we aren’t actually related or something. That isn’t relevant anymore. We’re siblings now!”

Ann smiled. “Yeah, okay! You’re a great sister, Kat.”

“And you a great brother.”

-

It was almost spring and the rain was starting to pick up a lot. But Ann and Kat still walked through the woods. Finally seeing all the frogs and slugs they desired. Ann convinced Kat that climbing the wall in the rain was a very bad idea and he didn’t want his only sister to die young. Because he would get arrested for her death. Kat couldn’t argue with that, even if she thought he could get away with her murder.

The day after that Kat didn’t see Ann in the forest. And for the first time in a while, she walked through the woods alone. It didn’t usually make her scared to be there alone, but after getting used to a person to talk to, she felt unnerved. The next day Ann was there looking sad. He brushed it off in the morning but after passing the wall on the way home, Kat stopped and sat. Signaling that they needed to talk about something. Ann sat down, without looking at her.

    “Ann. You don’t need to tell me what’s up, but, do you… want to talk about it?” Ann didn’t make eye contact with her, but Kat could see tears brimming his eyes. “Ann?”

That made him start sobbing and his head fell into her lap. His hands were gripping the sleeves of her hoodie and she let him cry it out and the sprinkling off the rain started. She didn’t say anything and let him cry. Eventually he sat back up with bloodshot eyes, and Kat opened up her arms so he could get a hug. Ann accepted it.

    “Garrett ran away from home today. I don’t know why and my dad blamed me for it. Because I hang out with you. I tried to defend you because you’re my friend, my sister even, and…” He trailed off and hid his face in Kat’s shoulder. She tightened the hug, trying not to feel guilty for being brought into it. Kat assumed the worst but didn’t bring any of it work. “I don’t want to go home either. I think Garrett was right to leave. Even if he’s a jerk.”

    “My parents would understand if you needed to come to my house.” She offered.

    They stopped hugging to face each other. Ann wiped his face as more tears fell, he started laughing. The rain was coming down harder, he was openingly sobbing and crying through it all. Kat started laughing too. It was horrible surviving the weather, but they were doing it together so it was fine.

“That’d be great, I think.” They held their arms around each other’s shoulders running out of the rain and into Kat’s home. And it was fine. Kat’s siblings fussed over the two of them getting mud in the house and possibly getting sick. One of her older brothers was a little concerned about the crying white kid in the house but didn’t say anything. Kat had mentioned a new friend that she made a while ago and that was that.

Eventually Ann had stopped visiting his father, and even later he was practically adopted by Kat’s family. Kat wouldn’t admit it, but she cried a little when her mom gave him a copy of the blue crystal good luck charm. Ann knew she did though, he was just kind enough not to mention it. 

-

    Ann had moved into Caleb’s room after he moved out. Kat and Moss’s room was across from that. He was the only cursed person in the entire house. He would be hurt easily and his stamina wasn’t very good because of it. It would worry Kat a lot. Lelise had told Kat that the curse had to be a secret but she didn’t specify why. The house became emptier as the older siblings grew up and moved out. When Nia was getting ready to move out they shared a nice dinner together.

Kat and Ann stayed behind at the end to clean up the table.

    “Hey Kat? What do you think you’ll do when you move out?”

    She looked up at him for a moment before going back to pick up the utensils. “I haven’t decided yet. Don’t really feel motivated to do anything in particular…” They went back to the silence for a moment, the only noise being the clinks of dishes gently hitting each other. Kat cleared her throat before opening a drawer. “What about you? Any fun ambitions?”

    He gave a soft smile. “I think I want to help other people. Like work through their emotions and stuff. Is there a word for that?”

    “I’m not sure, but I think you’d be great at it, Ann.” The two finished cleaning up and sat down at the table. Kat had crossed her legs on the seat while Ann had one leg up on his seat. She messed with her hair idly while looking outside. Fireflies were gently floating around peacefully. “Do you want to go on a walk through the forest? I think I have nerves to work out.”

    “What, like to our old school?” Kat gave a shrug and Ann chuckled quietly. “That sounds fun actually. Why not?”

    Ann got on his hat and Kat draped her blue cloak over her shoulders. They walked out after leaving a note behind on the newly cleaned table. The two siblings laughed together, going past the trees. Kat danced in circles as they went on their way, causing her to trip over a root and land on her back. Ann leaned down next to her.

    “Wow, klutz.”

    “Pshh, shut up, moron.” She got up, shaking the dry leaves and grass off her clothes. As she got a leaf off, Kat noticed something in the distance. “Oh shit, is that the wall?”

    Ann squinted and ran over to it, causing his sister to follow after. It was even more dilapidated than the two remembered. Moss and plants were growing in between the rocks and a lot of the wall was on the forest floor surrounding it. “I can’t believe it’s still up. This thing used to give me so much anxiety when you would balance on- Kat why are you climbing it? It’s like a century old!”

    “We’re gods, remember? I can do what I want!” She placed her hands on her hips. The cobblestone wall seemed to crumble into smaller pieces under her weight, which made Ann bite the inside of his cheek nervously. Kat rolled her eyes but moved to step off of it, not wanting to contribute to his constant worrying. “Okay, I’ll get off now.”

    She stopped when she heard people yelling deeper in the forest. Kat turned and saw a dimly lit lantern in the distance. “Who are they?” She whispered under her breath, before tripping over a rock. Ann quickly reached out his hands to stop her from falling. And she did stop, but she wasn’t being held by anything but a pink glow. Kat’s eyes widened before dropping the rest of the way. Ann quickly sat next to her on the ground as the unnatural light grew brighter. 

    “I thought you weren’t supposed to use your curse because it hurts your body?” Kat murmured. Ann was clutching his head, and didn’t respond. She peaked her head over the wall, there were three figures, only one holding a lantern. 

    “Listen there is a cursed person in that house! I’m not lying!” One yelled. Kat squinted her eyes, trying to see better in the darkness. She could barely make out rope around this person’s hands. She turned back to Ann, to tell him they had to get out of here and he was clutching his legs with a shocked expression on his face.

    Kat lightly tapped his shoulder. He looked at her and mouthed ‘That’s my brother.’ She turned back to the group and saw that they had gotten much closer than she had anticipated, making eye contact with one. A person holding a lamp and seemed to have a vacant expression, if they could ever change their face, it didn’t show. They pointed at her so she grabbed Ann’s arm and dragged him as they ran. The people gave chase.

    “That’s him! He’s the cursed one!”

    Ann let out a cry as his arm got grabbed by the cloaked, expressionless one. “Good job, Garrett. You’ll make a good recruit.” Kat looked back at them and desperately reached for Ann’s hand, as he tried to grab hers.

    “Ann!” She called out. The one holding up Garrett stepped on her hand as the other one picked up her brother off the ground. Kat grabbed her hand and helplessly watched as they disappeared. Ann had been hurt by so many people and yet he only wished to help people. Kat was never like that. She was so scared of being considered just another one of her siblings that she didn’t focus on her future. But she wanted to help Ann, or people like him. After months of searching for Ann, nothing had come up. It was like he had never existed at all. Kat gave up after a year. 

    So she decided to do something else instead. Maybe Ann was dead for being cursed. Kat went to a bigger city and trained to be stronger, without breaks. She lived with her brother Caleb and his husband Merlin until she could support herself with a brand new job. On her first day, Kat walked into the building confidently and took a breath. The man running the business gave a nod and handed her a badge.

    “Welcome, Kat Katabazi, to your first day at the Charlotte Institute.” His head tilted to the side without a smile.

[knock-me-out]

panic! in the hallway

genre - big phat mess tbh I dunno

characters - p much everyone + some random girl 

word count - 1748 words of sheer garbage

requested - nope ! request stuff tho, guys !!

summary - hyun gets cornered by a pretty girl, the other members are shook, ryeo’s possessive and jealous...ki gets hit a lot. it’s a mess.  not proofread, some references to shit we haven’t really posted about but there’s enough there that everything should be kinda self explanatory anyways? we’ll get to it.

there’s some crass language and sexual innuendos, keep that in mind.

“It’s Hyunseok-sunbae, right?”

He’d be lying if he claimed he didn’t physically jolt outright, the unfamiliar let liltingly melodic tone catching the leader unawares as he exited the bathroom, blinking vapidly at the owner of the voice for a few ticks longer than appropriate before recognizing, yes, a very attractive girl was looking at him expectantly, and no, it didn’t seem she was being bribed to approach him. He didn’t recognize her, but that was nothing new, Hyun was normally about as clueless about new groups and their debuts as he was when it came to biomechanical engineering, but it didn’t take recognition to acknowledge visuals. She was shorter than he was by quite a bit, petal lips glossy and rose-tinted, a stray speck of glitter from her eyeshadow adorning a high cheekbone, her hair dyed cherry red. He hadn’t said a thing yet, shit, he hadn’t said a thing.

“Yes!” Too enthusiastic, too pressured, and Hyunseok backtracked rapidly, stumbling over his words for a moment, hurriedly bowing briefly in greeting and using the opportunity to clandestinely wipe the palms of his hands on his pants, having already nervously started sweating despite the fact that he’d washed his hands not even two minutes before. “Yes, that’s me. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before?” It was hard to make the question sound as polite as it should have been, but the simple fact of the matter was that he didn’t know this girl, and it wasn’t altogether too normal for her to approach him the way she had...especially considering their location. The SBS Open Hall was teeming with idols, certainly, but normally groups tended to stick to their own unless absolutely necessary.

“No, we haven’t. I’m Eunmi, I...your sister and I went to international school together? I didn’t hear about what happened until recently, I’m so sorry.” Hyun’s smile faltered at that, but only momentarily, and he cast a somewhat panicked glance over her shoulder to where his members were clustered obnoxiously in the middle of the corridor and diverting the flow of other people, meeting Remi’s eyes and being graced with an inquisitive raise of the brows from the oldest member.

“Ah, I...appreciate that.” What was someone supposed to say to that, now of all times? He’d hardly managed to process through any of it himself, and he wondered for a moment how the information might have gotten out if W.C. insisted on keeping it all so tightly under wraps, at least until they finished promotions.

“Your stage tonight was incredible, by the way! You really are topping the charts right now, especially after such a long hiatus…” Eunmi’s lips pursed, her affect just screaming that she wanted more information on that nebulous ten-month break, but Hyunseok wouldn’t bite. He was far too caught up on the shift in topic; how could someone go from expressing condolences for the loss of a supposed school friend to what seemed like….it couldn’t be. She couldn’t be trying to flirt with him, could she? Hyunseok felt heat crawl to his face within milliseconds of the notion, and he curled his fingers into his palms momentarily. It was ridiculous to even consider; the girls tended to flock towards Dohwan and Remi before himself, even Kiyong when he seemed in an approachable mood...Hyunseok was an afterthought, usually too busy looking nauseated with anxiety at large-scale events to receive more than a perfunctory nod in his direction or a friendly but distracted greeting.

“Everyone’s been working hard, we’re lucky to have such loyal fans, that’s all.” The compliment was brushed off instinctively, but he couldn’t fight back a nervous laugh that was more of an excuse to exhale a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding up until that point...a breath that devolved quickly into a somewhat undignified cough as she reached out.

“Give yourself more credit!” Her hand was on his shoulder, she was touching him, and the heat of her palm was like a brand through the thin and silky material of his shirt. Thank God for makeup, otherwise he was sure anyone within a ten mile radius would have been able to register the cerise hue of his face. Hyunseok shifted his weight, another anxious laugh passing between them until she lowered her hand, ghosting long fingernails maybe just a bit more directly than necessary along his upper arm as she did so. Or was he just imagining that?

No, he couldn’t possibly be imagining the obvious interest in her gaze, the way she flicked her hair over one shoulder, the tilt of her hips.

“With a leader like you, it’s no wonder you guys are right back to your old success, right?”

Yep, he was screwed.

--

“Is she being paid to talk to him, or what?” Kiyong was bored, and had been announcing it every ten minutes like clockwork, but the introduction of a new potential topic had piqued his interest the moment he witnessed what was occuring. When Hyunseok had been stopped outside the bathroom, it was almost comical how the conversations amongst the remaining eleven members had ceased to spy on the leader maybe a bit less inconspicuously than could be hoped.

“Oh boy, she wants a piece of that.” It was Dohwan’s turn to interject as the mysterious redhead put her hand on Hyunseok’s shoulder, letting it fall only mere seconds after, but it was a touch nonetheless. “Her name’s Eunmi, her group debuted just a few months ago.”

“And how would you know?” Ki snapped immediately, and even though it was more than plausible that Dohwan knew what he was talking about, he’d take any excuse he could to push back when the other knew something he didn’t.

“The leader of her group and I, uh…long story short, they all hate me now, I’m surprised Eunmi’s talking to Hyunseok-hyung at all. She’s gorgeous, though, I’ll tap that if he doesn’t.”

“We aren’t talking about mom’s sex life right now. Or ever, thanks.” Owen spoke up for the first time in a while, having been too distracted by his side conversation with Dae, the latter of which looking as confused as he always did.

“Who are we talking about?”

“Dae-yah, you’re like ninety feet tall, how are you still that unaware of what’s going on?”

“Wait, where’s--”

“Oh my God.” Kiyong’s sharp tone cut through Daesung’s question, and he spoke in English this time around and continued to do as he kept going. Whether or not he was aware of it was unclear, and he grabbed onto Remi’s arm and leaned heavily into him. “She definitely just hit him with the ‘ooh shouldn’t you go back to your members?’ He waved her off, he waved her off. Is it just me or does he look less like he wants to fling himself out a window, now? Ooh, boy, there’s that posture shift -- he’s going for it. It’s like watching some weird exotic bird doing a mating dance.”

Owen and Remi were clearly the only two to pick up on the majority what he’d said, but Dohwan’s brows drew together at the word mating, at least he knew that one.

“Guys, leave him alone.” Seungjae didn’t bother glancing up from his phone as he spoke, thumbs a blur on the screen as he typed out what looked like an aggressively long-winded rant in Japanese. “He’s an adult and can make his own stupid decisions.”

“Your mom’s a stupid decision.”

“Ki, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Neither does your face.”

Both Jui and Seungjae raised a hand to hit him at that, but only Jui followed through, landing a heavy smack between Kiyong’s shoulder blades that was forceful enough that he choked on the water he had brought to his lips, spitting the majority back out into the bottle and unceremoniously onto his own hand...a hand he subsequently wiped on Dohwan’s jacket.

“She just gave him her number, I think, lady, there are sandwiches for a reason. Good thing hyung's always too nervous to eat during these things or he would have thrown up all over her by now.”

Owen had a point. It was curious, however, that Hyunseok’s affect seem to have shifted in only a few minutes. He’d gone from standing stiffly, face a lot redder than he probably thought it was, and expression akin to being confronted with a dead baby bunny to...confident, at least in Kiyong’s opinion. Hyun was laughing, genuinely laughing at something she said, when Ryeokwon suddenly removed himself from the group and approached Hyunseok and Eunmi without having said a single word.

“Well, shit.”

For once, Ki had to agree with Dohwan.

--

“No, no, it was the second time he got caught with a girl that--” Hyunseok’s anecdote was cut off succinctly by the approach of Ryeokwon, and he watched as a hardened expression only worsened as the blond reached out for Hyunseok.

“Hyung, we need to go.” He was used that tone again, the ‘I’m going to seem borderline casual but you know I mean it’ sort of inflection Ryeo liked to adopt in public, but it was apparent that Hyun’s hesitation wasn’t good enough for him. Hyunseok’s attention was diverted not only by the dancer now holding his hand, but also by a yell from the direction of the others, to see Jui repeatedly swatting Kiyong upside the head with what looked like an empty and half-crushed water bottle. He didn’t notice the caustic and possessive glare Ryeokwon shot at Eunmi, nor did he witness the nervous manner in which she shied back half a step. When he returned his attention to the blond and the redhead now picking uncomfortably at one of the many bracelets adorning her slim wrists, it was only to concede.

“I, ah, should get back to…”

He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his tone. Eunmi was trying hard to look nonplussed, but there was a tenseness to her jaw that he interpreted only as regret.

“That’s alright...I should get going too anyways, yeah? Well...you know how to reach me.”

Hyunseok wasn’t given an opportunity to respond properly beyond an awkward half-wave before she turned and he allowed himself to be half-dragged somewhat barbarically back to the others, where he was met by an enthusiastic clap on the back from Dohwan and a look of unguarded confusion from just about everyone else.

Seungjae only had one thing to say.

“Your fly was halfway undone the whole time, by the way.”

[ladylynse]

"My BOIS just won!" -quoted from a random guy at the gym I just overheard about the Patriots vs Jags game. ~Nym

You said Secret Quartet or American Dragon, Nym, and I went with Secret Quartet with an extra helping of (read: more characters from) AD:JL. Enjoy!

Victory: [FF | AO3] It’s more than just a game, in the end, but the only way to come out ahead is to rely on people who are practically strangers.

“My BOIS just won!” Trixie exclaimed, punching the air. Sheturned to Jazz, grinning and holding out a hand. “Pay up, Smarty Pants.”

Jazz huffed, crossing her arms. She hadn’t needed to squintinto the sunlight to see what Jake and Randy had pulled. “They were cheating.You cannot tell me that wasn’t cheating.”

“My homeboy can’t be cheating if there ain’t no rulesagainst it,” Trixie countered. “Back me up here, Haley.”

Jake’s little sister bit her lip. “Technically—”

“Technically?” Jazz interrupted. “Technically, she’s right? Is thatwhat you’re going to say? Really?” She rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t haveagreed to let you be the referee.”

“She’s got better eyes than the rest of us,” Spud pointedout. “Wasn’t that what you said earlier?”

“And anyway, that totally wasn’t planned, so it wasn’tcheating.” Howard crumpled up the empty bag of chips and shoved it into hispocket. “Planning ain’t Randy’s style. So just go ahead and admit that we won.Randy and Jake totally wonked Team Halloween’s cheese.”

Jazz sighed, knowing she was outnumbered here. She was Danny’sonly representative in their little audience, and Adrien had come alone unlessyou counted Plagg. “They aren’t Team Halloween,” she muttered.

“Um, hello? Ghost? Black cat?” Trixie was smirking. “Theysure are. You shoulda known they couldn’t stand up against a dragon and aninja.”

Jazz was about to try to retaliate again when thecontestants of their little contest showed up. Adrien’s hair was singed and theleft shoulder of Danny’s suit had been burned away, and Randy was missing hisscarf, but no one looked too worse for the wear. “Everyone okay?” she asked,just to be sure.

“That was cheating,” Danny complained as he shot a pointedlook at Randy. Which meant everyone wasfine or someone would have said something immediately.

Jazz relaxed, and she noticed the others do so as well. Thepurpose of this little test had never been to beat anyone up, just to test outtheir abilities on a makeshift magical obstacle course as they raced around theisland. They’d paired into twos to force them to be mindful of a partner—no onewon until both teammates had crossed the finished line—and to give them backupwhen they came across something more atypical for them. It had been a way ofkeeping everyone on their toes. They might not always get a chance to fighttogether, and being able to fight well in different units was important.

It had devolved into a full-out two-on-two.

Taking bets had been Fu’s idea, even though the magicalguardian hadn’t been around to witness the match.

Jazz should have known better than to agree. Really, sheshould have. But Danny had been all over it, confident in his abilities, and she’dwatched Adrien fight as Chat Noir earlier and knew that he could hold his own,no matter what the course threw at them.

But it wasn’t the course that had gotten them in the end.

Randy pulled off his mask, his ninja suit disappearing asquickly as Jake had dragoned down. “Not our fault you forgot we both had firepowers.”

Adrien snorted and pulled some camembert out of his bag tofeed Plagg. “I didn’t know you could do that and control the earth at the same time.”

Randy grinned. “I’ve gotten better at that. The Sandjas havesaved my butt more than once.”

“No lie there.”

“Hey!” Randyreached out to punch Howard in the arm. “I have saved you countless times.”

“And I have saved youand your sorry little secret just as many.”

“Not really.”

“You believe what you need to believe, Cunningham.”

“Regardless,” interjected Jazz, “the terms of the agreementwere just to finish the course first, notattack the opposing team.”

“But not attacking the other team wasn’t explicitly stated,”Trixie cut in, “so Jake and Randy are in the clear. Haley said so, and she’sref. Besides, with some of these guys, you need to play a bit dirty to getahead.”

“Gee, thanks,” Danny muttered. “You remember that when I icethese guys next time around.”

“They do have a point,” agreed Adrien mildly. “I don’t mindconceding this round.” The others looked surprised, and then he grinned andadded, “Just means we’ll spook them next time because they don’t know whatother tricks this cat still has in the bag.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Jake asked. “I mean, you have amagic cat thing, and that’s, like, it, yo. That ain’t gonna beat all the differentkinds of magic I can do.”

“I find that insulting.” Plagg swallowed his cheese andzipped up to Jake’s eye level. “For one, I’m a kwami, which you should know ifyou claim to be a guardian of the magical world. For another, you haven’t evenseen him use Cataclysm yet, and dragon eyes or not, we could take you in thedark.”

“Yeah, but seeing in the dark—”

“Plagg’s older than anyone else here.” Adrien seemed to knowwhat the kwami was getting at, even if no one else did. “Fu might have beenaround a while, but Plagg’s still got millennia on him. Do you really want todiscount him that easily?”

“We’re fighting you,not Plagg,” countered Randy. “And, anyway, the Nomicon’s got a whole lot ofinformation—”

“And I could always just go ask someone in the Ghost Zone ifI need to know anything, especially since Cujo doesn’t mind taking messages forme.”

“Well, Gramps—”

Jazz rolled her eyes and left the boys to their fighting.Trixie and Spud seemed too interested in it to move, but Haley joined her onthe sandy beach a few metres away from them. “You still don’t think this is agood idea?” she asked quietly.

Jazz bit her lip. “I think this still smells like a setup,”she confessed. “I mean, everyone getting a mysterious message at the same time?When it still explains nothing? I expect that from Clockwork, and maybe Randythinks it’s par for the course from the Nomicon, but shouldn’t Jake questionthe Dragon Council about something like this, when he hasn’t had anyinteraction with anyone before? Or Adrien, no matter what ‘secret mission’ heapparently received from his Guardian? He’s got a partner back in Paris, forcrying out loud.”

“He also said this isn’t the first time one of them has beenpulled for a secret mission,” Haley reminded her. “And the Dragon Council will rarelyshow all their cards if they can help it. That’s one of the reasons CouncillorChang could do as much as she did.” Seeing Jazz’s questioning look, Haleyadded, “Long story. Let’s just say I learned not to envy Jake too much forbeing the American Dragon.”

Jazz drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them. “Sothis doesn’t feel off to you? At all? We’re just a bunch of kids. If theyreally expect us to fight, shouldn’t they at least tell us what we’re going upagainst?”

“Maybe they think it’s safer if we don’t know all thedetails.”

Jazz snorted. “Ignorance in battle is hardly a good thing.More likely, they don’t know the details themselves. Whoever’s really behind this,I mean. Because I highly doubt Clockwork, the Nomicon, the Dragon Council, andthe Guardian all suddenly realized how very real this threat apparently is anddecided to throw us all into this together.” She sighed. “We should be inschool. Instead, my parents think Danny and I are off getting a greateducational experience courtesy of Vlad Masters, and there’s no telling howlong that lie will hold.”

“Mom’s covering for us,” Haley said. “Dad won’t suspectanything. And Adrien said that his father might not even notice if we deal withthis quickly enough.”

Jazz raised her eyebrows and looked at Haley. “He thinks hisfather won’t notice that he left the country? Left the continent?”

Haley shrugged. “Something about a busy schedule and themrarely seeing each other, and he fixed something with the people he usuallydoes see on a regular basis. And his family’s rich.”

“Still.”

“He framed it as some fashion thing. Has to do a shoot whenwe get back to the NYC.” Haley blew out a breath. “You guys should feelhonoured, really. Randy being the Ninja, I could see him maybe wrangling an invitationto Draco Island, but the rest of you? You’ll be lucky if they don’t try toerase your memories after this.”

Jazz didn’t want to think about that possibility, especiallywhen Haley talked about it so blithely. “You don’t think this is dangerous, allof us leaving? Adrien left Ladybug in Paris, we’re covered in Amity Park, andapparently there is no shortage of dragons in New York City, but who does Randyhave in Norrisville?”

“A robot.” At Jazz’s incredulous look, Haley added, “Whichis why Sun—my dragon master—will be running out there from time to time tocheck on things until we get back.”

“Until they get back, you mean.” Jazz had no illusions abouthow long she’d be allowed to tag along. “Once this starts, whatever it is….They’ll be on their own.”

“They won’t be on their own. They’ll have each other. They’llwin.”

“Teamwork doesn’t exactly ensure victory. We don’t even know….”Jazz hated to bring this up to someone so young, but it had been preying on hermind since yesterday, when all this had started. It felt like it had beenmonths ago now. “We don’t even know if they’ll all get through this.”

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? So they can train andlearn each other’s skills? They won’t ever win if they don’t know themselves.”

“They won’t win if they don’t know who they’re really fighting!”

“They will.”

“How can you be so confident?”

Haley lay down so that she was staring up at the cloudlesssky above them. “Because that’s how this works. Someone sent that message tothe others or something happened that made them realize what was coming, evenif they don’t know the details yet. That’s why everyone’s here. Our informationmight come slowly, but even if we’re piecing it together from differentsources, it’ll come. And Jake’s getting better about waiting before diving intoa fight. They won’t be going into this blind. They’ll know their enemy as wellas they know themselves by the time this is through.”

“‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, your victory willnot stand in doubt,’” quoted Jazz. “‘If you know Heaven and know Earth, you maymake your victory complete.’”

She looked over to see Haley smiling. “That’s right. Ifigure your brother has Heaven covered, with the ghost thing, and what he doesn’t,Jake’ll be able to figure out to make sure they have clear skies. And Randy andAdrien will know the lay of the land or be able to shape it to fit their needs.They’re going to be unstoppable.” Haley sat up, glanced behind her, and added, “Assumingthey ever stop arguing.”

Jazz laughed, finally feeling hopeful again, and climbed toher feet with Haley to go rejoin the others.

(see more fics)

[sending-the-message]

Aggression by TheForgottenPear

I was born with complete hearing loss; something that once saved my life.

It was 1958; I was twelve years old living with my family in an upper class neighborhood outside of a borough in New Jersey. My father was a successful entrepreneur who seemed to perpetually be on extended business trips, and my mother was a doctor at the local clinic always working long hours. When their schedules were open long enough to spend time with their kids, they preferred to find upscale parties to flaunt their earnings with all of their other wealthy friends.

As much as they would try and deny it, my sister was the one who raised me.

Carla was sixteen at the time but had the equivalent workload of a stay-at-home mom. She was in the popular crowd at her high school, but because of my parent’s schedules, she was forced to spend more time taking care of me. Most kids her age would loathe that, but she never complained. My hearing loss never felt like an inconvenience around her and from the moment my family found out about it, she started spending countless hours learning sign language. Despite all she did for me, I realize now how much I treated her like shit.

On one particular day, Carla was making breakfast when she got a phone call from her boyfriend. I walked into the kitchen half asleep and sat down at our kitchen table quickly burying my head in my arms. Carla tapped my shoulder while holding the phone at its full extension from the receiver.

I pretended not to notice as I clung to the hope she would give up and let me fall back asleep. She tapped my shoulder once more.

“Jesus, Carla. What?”

“Would you want to go to Bendix with Paul and I tonight?”

She had tucked the phone under her cheek and was signing while she spoke; I paid little attention to her hand movements as I was trying to get more proficient at reading lips.

“I'm in. It beats your cooking.”

My comment didn’t upset her as much as I expected and she instead played it off as if I were joking.

“Paul, Joe said he’s reluctant to have anything other than one of my gourmet meals, but that he would join.”

I tucked my head back in my arms and fell asleep.

  Bendix was our favorite place in town, bar none. It checked all of the boxes of what a great diner should have: great food, great service, and a jukebox. Granted, the music itself meant little to me, it was clear how much of a difference on everyone’s mood having a jukebox made.

The place was always electric and that night was no exception. Carla, Paul, and I pulled into the final parking spot in the lot and took a second before getting out of the car. Our parents had bought her a brand new red 58’ Impala for her birthday a couple weeks back and she liked it when people walked up admiring it.

A guy from her high school wasted little time to do exactly that.

“Paul, I didn’t realize you had enough money sitting around to buy her a car like this.”

“I don’t. Joe back there won it for her in a game of poker.”

“No shit? This kid?”

I had managed to interpret their interaction but also was quickly reminded via everyone’s stares and smiles just how shy of a person I was. Paul looked happily surprised the guy was buying into his bullshit. The temperature in my cheeks rose dramatically.

“Yeah… I, uh… got a royal house.”

Paul immediately turned around and careened his neck toward the sky. He had one of those laughs that forced his body to accommodate its intensity. It was on my list of things I wish I could have heard even just one time, but his body heaves provided a quality amount of humor nevertheless.

Carla was trying not to laugh at his ridiculous movements as she turned back towards the guy outside the car.

“It was a gift from my dad.”

“Well he’s got good taste. You might want to check yours though and dump the shuck in your passenger seat.”

He jokingly flipped Paul off and walked back toward his group of people outside the diner. Paul was still in hysterics.

“He believed me… a goddamn royal house…”

Carla shook her head and laughed as we all got out of the car.

  Whatever the maximum occupancy of the diner was, I’m sure the place wasn’t far off from meeting it. The large crowd of mostly energetic teenagers filled nearly every table and seat at the bar. Carla took point for our group and quickly pointed out a lone empty table in the far right corner of the diner. We rushed back there as if our lives were at stake and sat down with a level of relief that suggested we escaped a war zone.

Paul scooted closer to Carla and put his arm around her.

“I can’t think of the last time we’ve gotten to an open table that quickly.”

Carla motioned for a waitress and then turned back resting her elbows on the table.

“It’s a good thing too. I’m starving guys.”

The music playing over the jukebox must’ve changed to a more interesting track because Carla’s face immediately lit up. It didn’t take long for her to start dancing in her seat. Paul, who had vastly different tastes in music, also seemed to be enjoying the tune. In a matter of seconds, I was the only one at the table not dancing and Carla quickly noticed.

“Trust me, Joe, I’m sure you’d love this song!”

My unwarranted cranky mood had carried over from the morning, so I just rolled my eyes and diverted my attention elsewhere.

The waitress, having noticed Carla and Paul’s energy, walked over smiling with some glasses of water.

“Can I get you all started on some coffee?”

Carla was still rhythmically bobbing her head.

“Yes, please! By the way, what song is this?”

“It’s a new one! We swapped out some songs in the jukebox yesterday. You’ll have to go check them out.”

The waitress walked away and Carla turned towards Paul.

“Go see if they have Peggy Sue?”

She was fiercely tugging the sleeve of his shirt as he tried to stand up to accommodate her request. I rolled my eyes once more.

“Why do you care that much to hear it again? You’ve heard the song a million times.”

Carla smiled as she turned back towards me.

“It’s so good though! If you could hear it …”

“But I can’t! It doesn’t matter if I would love it. Maybe ask your boyfriend what he wants to listen to. It’s not always about what you want.”

I wasn’t that frustrated, but I could tell I had crossed a line and hurt Carla’s feelings. Paul made a face at me that indicated he also knew I had said too much. She was trying to hold back her emotions as she sat still in her seat. Realizing what I had done, I sighed and got up to go find the song for her.

The jukebox was on the opposite end of the diner, but it stuck out like a bright blue sore thumb. The neon tubes that ran down both of its sides casted a glow on everything within a five feet radius; it was always a dream of mine to have one in my room.

Approaching the machine, every part of my figure was suddenly enveloped in blue. Within the machine, various records lay stacked on top of one another with their corresponding names laid out right in front of me. In a time before iPods and the internet, having even just fifteen songs to choose from was overwhelming.

Peggy Sue wasn’t one of the choices, though many of her other favorite songs from artists like Elvis and Little Richard were represented. There were fifteen buttons to signify fifteen choices, but I noticed only fourteen of them were labeled. I counted the stack of records inside the dome-shaped window and sure enough, it looked like they had just forgot to add the last label.

I was intrigued at the uncertainty; maybe Peggy Sue was in the machine after all. I had nothing to go on other than my curiosity, but I decided to take a shot in the dark. I put a couple nickels in the coin slot and selected mystery number fifteen. The jukebox began preparing the song as I started walking back to our table.

Paul had temporarily moved over to a stool at the bar. One of the employees was a good friend of his and they liked to talk baseball every time they met up.

I must’ve sat back down at our table moments after the jukebox started playing my selection.

Carla was sitting perfectly still where she was when I got up. I picked up on the upset expression she was sporting immediately.

“This isn’t Peggy Sue is it?”

She didn’t answer. Her body was motionless.

“…Hello? Carla?”

I was snapping my fingers in front of her face. Nothing.

“Carla, I’m sorry about what I said. You’re one of the most selfless people I…”

The severity of the situation became clear the second I took my eyes off my sister. Everyone else in the diner had halted their conversations as well. Most looked confused, but not a single person was moving. Actual silence was something I was used to, but the visual silence in the room unsettled me deeply.

Not ten seconds had passed before everyone started talking and moving again. I hadn’t realized until then, but my heart was pounding.

Carla was now looking down at her lap. I could tell she was still upset.

“… Are you okay?”

She slowly raised her head looking straight at me. Her frustration with either my question or something else seemed worse than I was expecting.

“Is that what you think, Joe?”

It was my turn to freeze in place. Her stare wasn’t just intense, it was menacing.

“I… I’m confused…”

A couple tables down from us, two teenage guys suddenly stood up yelling at each other. Whatever was said between them quickly devolved into an aggressive fist fight.

The guy closest to us took a vicious hit and immediately crumpled to the floor. He was clearly unconscious, but that didn’t stop the attacker from continuing to throw punch after punch into his already broken face. I looked at Carla in horror, but she hadn’t taken her fierce gaze off of me.

“Joe. Answer me.”

I had never felt this way before, but I was scared of my sister. Her cold stare, her disregard for the brutality behind her, everything about her current state of mind was terrifying.

“Why do you seem mad…”

Out of the corner of my eye, Paul was now arguing with his employee friend. I couldn’t tell what they were saying from that distance, but it only appeared to be getting worse with each passing second.

Suddenly, Paul smashed his drink on the counter. Soda spilled out all over the floor as he pointed what remained of the jagged bottle at his friend. Then, almost as quickly as Paul reacted, the friend pulled out a shotgun from behind the counter. Paul attempted to connect his newly created weapon with the side of his opponent’s neck, but instead took a shotgun blast to the chest. His now lifeless body flew back a good two feet before connecting with the ground; his blood was suddenly all over our table.

I jumped back as far in our booth as I could go. In a matter of thirty seconds, two extreme acts of violence had taken place right in front of me. I started crying heavily as I looked over at Carla. The side of her face was coated in her boyfriend’s blood, but she was still staring at me as intense as ever.

“You better answer me, Joe.”

Behind her, the once picturesque, friendly diner had devolved into an all out brawl. Whatever anyone could get their hands on was thrown or used to bash someone over the head.

Paul’s employee friend must’ve realized he fired off his only shotgun shell, so he instead hopped the counter and started ceaselessly beating a stranger with the butt of his gun.

Whatever was going on, I knew Carla and I could end up severely injured or dead if we didn’t leave to get the police. I put my hand on the table and slid out of the booth as fast as I—

A sharp, debilitating pain shot up my arm. I screamed at a decibel level I swear I could almost hear and fell backward onto the bench clutching my hand. A fork was sticking out of the top of it. Carla got up from her seat and was now looming over me.

“Fucking answer me!”

I continued screaming, both in pain and in absolute fear of my sister. She jumped on top of me and wrapped her hands around my throat.

“Do you have any idea how much I hate taking care of you? Do you even have a fucking clue?”

Nothing I did loosened her grip on me. She was determined to see her aggression through to my end.

“You think your broken ears give you the right to be an asshole all the time? All I ever do is take care of you because mom and dad are too shitty to do it themselves!”

Carla continued to drill me with all of her anger but at that point I had shifted most of my focus from reading her lips to finding my next breath. My vision began to blur as I used every last drop of adrenaline I had left in me fighting her off, but before the battle was lost, I found her weakness.

Without realizing, I had clasped both of my hands around her ears. Her strength slowly began to fade as her eyes rolled back in her skull. I was able to start gasping for air around the same time she collapsed to the floor. Without warning, blood began to pool from her ears in a steady stream.

I lay there for a moment trying to process what just happened and how severe her bleeding was becoming. Most of the chaos in the diner was still focused in other areas and hadn’t migrated towards our booth. I needed to get to a phone to call for an ambulance. Carla was clearly ill and whatever had caused her ears to start—

My mind suddenly made a connection.

With tears still streaming down my face, I got up and rushed for the other side of the diner. Most of those still standing weren’t interested in my sprint as much as the person they were midway through killing.

The small light on the front of the jukebox indicated track number fifteen was still playing. Despite all that had just happened, I realized then that only about three minutes had passed since the start of the massacre.

Whatever was playing through the jukebox speaker started playing the same time the violence began.

I was too petrified of my surroundings to think to pull the cable from the wall, so I instead grabbed the nearest bar stool. The fork was still sticking out of the back of my hand and the pain that came from squeezing the stool was immense; nevertheless, I pushed through.

I ran at the jukebox with all of my remaining strength and speared the stool through the front glass of the machine. The metal leg smashed into the stack of records and broke the mechanism that controlled playback. Everything including the exterior neon lights shut off.

Those still standing immediately froze what they were doing. Weapons and bodies alike dropped to the floor in unison. Much like Carla’s situation, blood spilled out of everyone’s ears adding to the already drenched tile that was the diner floor.

After leaving the diner to frantically call 911, I had no idea what the death toll was. I knew almost everyone that had a chance at being alive was in severe condition, but I was hoping at least Carla would be able to pull through.

I ended up being the only survivor.

  The police and EMS workers pronounced everyone dead at the scene. Those who weren’t beaten or shot in the chest lost too much blood hemorrhaging from the ear canal. The medical examiners were understandably baffled for a number of reasons, but something stuck out from the rest.

Their eardrums had not only ruptured, they burst like mini grenades; vital veins near the ear canal broke open as a result causing severe internal bleeding.

I’m the closest thing the police had to a suspect, though that never amounted to much. I was brought in a few times to try and explain what I had seen, but I could never explain why it all happened. Even if I tried to provide my theory, all that would have done is put me in the mental asylum.

I miss Carla dearly; I never forgot the things she said to me. I’d like to think she didn’t actually harbor all of those frustrations, but I have reason to believe the unfortunate alternative.

I returned to the scene of the crime a week later. The owner of the diner answered a lot of questions regarding the deaths, but was understandably puzzled when I showed up asking about the jukebox. He was even more confused when I asked what was assigned to number fifteen.

“Well, it shouldn’t be anything. I changed out the tracks myself.”

He went into the back room of the diner where I assume he had put the remains of the jukebox. He came back a couple of minutes later holding a single record.

“I’ve never seen this one before… I know I didn't put it in the machine.”

I took it from him to inspect it closer. It wasn’t labeled on the top side of it, but flipping it over revealed a piece of masking tape with a few words written on it:

GROUP TEST 023: Aggression – Bendix Diner

[bewareofchris]

For sass-sidestories, what about the kids' reaction to Altair's many, many, many tattoos? At least one of them would have asked why there are drawings on him but not on Malik.

G | Altmal | Preschoolers with Markers.

a/n: so many moons ago I tried to figure out what sort of tattoo Altair would get for his kids and I lingered on the notion that he’d just write their names on the opposite side of the flower.  But if he did that it probably would have been fairly large for Jaida because he was SO EXCITED and then he’d have to come up with something for the boys.  There were 100 other ideas but I ended up thinking something like this.

“Dad,” Darim grunted around the marker top in his mouth.  His chubby fingers were already covered in marker, his mouth had streaks on either side of purple and blue and green, mixing together on his teeth.  “I can’t open it,” sounded like he was saying.

Altair took the marker so he could pull the marker top and almost missed Tazim grabbing the permanent marker off the tray.  “Hey,” he said and grabbed it out of his son’s disappointed hands, “not those ones.  Use yours.”  He pulled the lid off the neon pink marker and handed it back to Darim who happily stood up so he could continue his masterpiece.  Altair couldn’t see it because it was on his back but it felt like a giant wet mass of something.  

Jaida said, “move,” to her brother (probably Sef) and there was a brief scuffled behind his back that landed an elbow into his spine.  

Tazim was sitting next to the tray of permanent markers, arms crossed over his chest, probably plotting his next attempt to steal one.  In fact, the whole thing had started with Altair sitting in the sun room (alone) with his markers and his paper and no particular notion of what he meant to draw.  Sef had wandered in first, leaning against his back to ask him what he was doing.  That had drawn Darim who loved nothing with as much delight as he loved coloring over all of Altair’s tattoos.

Now his budding artists were adding their own birds (and flowers, and trees, and usually some sort of vehicle) to his back.  Tazim had signed his name on Altair’s lower arm.  

Before he could be stabbed with a bony elbow again he reached back and dragged Sef forward.  “Don’t fight with your sister.”

While the other kids would swap colors, Sef only used the teal marker.  (Heaven forbid someone else took it.)  “She took my spot!” he said.

“Look,” he held up his arm, “you can color here.”  

This was a subpar location to draw.  There were birds on Altair’s back.  There was a compass on his right arm.  His upper left arm had nothing but a bunch of fancy letters his three year old sons couldn’t read.  He barely saw Tazim reaching for his markers again in time to reach out and slap the flat of his hand over the top of them.  The motion made Darim’s marker slip and he gasped in outrage.  Jaida shrieked because it must have messed her up too.  

“I need an eraser!” she screamed.

“Its marker,” Darim countered.

“Malik!” Altair shouted.  He didn’t move his hands off the permanent markers.  Tazim was trying to slide one out from under his hand while Sef wriggled in his lap to get at the inside of his elbow where the crown was.  While the black bar was a useless tattoo to his kids, they liked the crown.  (That’s Mom’s crown, they said.  And if they thought that meant Maria was a princess he never told them otherwise.)  

Malik walked into the room still wearing his pajamas, having the distinct look of having just been enjoying his coffee and not worrying about where all his preschool children had gone.  He paused just inside the sunroom with a smile.  “Yes?” he asked.

“Tazim,” Altair said over Sef’s body laying across his legs.  “Stop trying to take the markers.”

That made their youngest son growl and cross his arms with extra force.  “Why not.” did not sound like a question.  “I want to make a real tattoo.”

“You dummy,” Jaida said from over Altair’s shoulder.  “That’s not how you get a tattoo.”

“You don’t know!” Tazim shouted.

Darim leaned forward against his shoulder to (shout) into Altair’s ear, “how do you get a tattoo Dad?  Can I get a tattoo?”

“Hold still!” Sef hissed.  (To be honest, holding still wouldn’t make Sef’s attempt at art look any better.)  

“Help,” Altair whispered at his husband.  Malik was smiling at them with aghast adoration.  He wasn’t a fan of markers, or messes when they were happening to him but he always seemed to love watching them turn Altair into their coloring book.

“They stab you with needles,” Jaida was saying with a great deal of authority.  “Peyton told me.”

“No,” Darim whispered back.  “Did they stab you with needles Dad?”

Tazim’s growling was getting ever so slightly louder.  

Malik was shaking his head in the doorway.  He pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the cat tree closest to the door.  Right about the time Tazim’s growling was going to escalate into screaming, Malik wrapped an arm around him and pulled him off the ground so he could sit in his spot.  “You can’t use your Dad’s markers, Tazim.  They’re for his art.  If you would like to, you can draw on me.”

Tazim was sitting in Malik’s lap, tipping his head back to smile up at his Father.  He arched his back and kissed the bottom of Malik’s chin before he rolled out of Malik’s lap and grabbed his own marker box off the floor.  He was delirous with joy right before Darim tried to come join him.  “No!” Tazim shouted at him.  “You’re over there.”

Sef stopped his attempt at drawing something human-like to assess the situation.  “You have to share,” he said.  He shoved himself up to his feet, clutching his sole teal marker.  “Dad’s already colored up.”

This was a good point.  Tazim was searching through his whole brain to find a come back to that.  He arrived at, “Father’s hairy!”  Malik was not, in fact, nearly hairy enough for that to matter much.  “And bumpy.”  But only where the scars were.  “And Dad has more arms,” was his finishing statement.

“Tazim,” Malik said softly.  “Maybe we could share?”

Jaida who had left the room without anyone noticing, returned with a whole pack of baby wipes.  She handed him the tub and pulled out at least five of them.  “You messed me up,” she informed him.  Then she took her balled-up bunch of wipes to start scrubbing his back.  

Darim wavered because coloring was fun but trying to wash Altair’s tattoo’s off was slightly more fun.  He was caught up in confusion while Sef, the opportunist, said, “can I color with you, Tazim?  You can use my markers.”  He even held out his box of markers.  It was an easy offer to make because Sef had never even opened most of them.

“Sure,” Tazim said, “you can share with me.”  

Malik made funny faces with their son’s coloring on his back.  He kept trying to turn his head to look at them and the two of them kept pushing his head back.  Sef’s fingers went across the scar on his scalp and he said, “what’s this?” until all four of them were pulling Malik’s hair to investigate.  “It’s a scar,” sounded very, very patient considering there were four kids pulling his hair.

“Why?” Tazim asked.

Darim gave up halfway through Malik’s explanation of how he’d been in a car accident.  He came back to finish coloring in the compass on Altair’s shoulder.  “Can I get a tattoo, Dad?” he asked again.

“When you’re older.”

“Can Jaida?”  Didn’t seem like it followed the first thought.

Jaida let go of Malik’s hair to glare at her brother for saying her name.  “I have a tattoo,” she said (very loudly) and then she marched back over to yank Altair’s arm up and stab her finger against the pretty pink footprint on his ribs and her name written inside of it.  She was smug-as-ever, grinning at her brother.

“That doesn’t count,” Darim shouted back.  The whole thing was going to devolve into another argument about why the three boys didn’t have one (because caring for three infants had been slightly more important than getting tattooed) when Malik interrupted them to say:

“You should put the marker on your feet and we could make you one.”  He was so proud of himself.  So there was Altair, lying on pillows, getting kicked in the ribs by his sons, under Malik’s supervision.  “I’ll write your names,” Malik said when the boys happened to discover that their footprints didn’t include their names.  He took the black permanent marker to do it (and Tazim was furious).  

“I think they’ll notice when it washes off in the shower,” Altair said.

Malik shrugged.  “I guess you’ll just have to go see your tattoo artist before they remember.”  He kissed Altair.  “Come on, boys.  We need to clean up, everyone find your markers.”  

Altair didn’t participate in Malik’s insane need to have everything put away orderly (because it aggravated even him) but snap pictures of his son’s footprints on his side.  It didn’t fit with Jaida’s tiny newborn footprint, but it was time (far past time) to add the boys’.  

“Hey,” Darim said when his markers were all put away.  He fell on Altair’s chest (because he had no concept of personal space or his own weight), “did they really stab you with needles?”

“Sort of,” Altair agreed.

Darim was horrified but impressed.  “I don’t like needles.”  Nobody needed to be reminded of that.  He pushed himself up because Malik was saying words like “snack” and “then we’ll go play” and nothing motivated the children better than the prospect of food.

[harmonaka]

do ALL of the oc asks (or just some of ur Favs) for ur fav oc!! :0

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?

Ayako Hatori. I picked the last name randomly, but Ayako is written with the kanji for “coloring.” So her name is basically color child.

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?

SHSL Rhythm Gamer. She can full-combo things that should probably be impossible.

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? 

Well. A lot of her childhood was spent as a Monokuma Kid, so like… y’know. Before that, though, she lived a pretty normal life. She liked the arcade, and would frequently skip class in order to visit it. Leading to the bad memory, her mother wasn’t very pleased with that.

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? 

She was close with her mom. Her dad left her mom when Ayako was young.

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

Ayako had one sister, who is as of now unnamed because I’m lazy. They were very close. Ayako’s older sister was an adult during the Towa City thing, so she’s hecking dead.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

AYAKO DOES NOT! LIKE! SCHOOL! She’s bad at it and not trying is easier than trying only to get her hopes of a good grade crushed :’)

She’d probably like art class most. She wouldn’t even follow the instructions but–

Or possible P.E.

She hates pretty much the rest of it.

7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood? 

She was probably kinda popular as a kid?. She had that sort of personality that made her get along well with kids. She *probably* would. I only use her in an rp group, though, so like… Not really.

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals? 

Nope and nope. She likes animals to an extent, though. She thinks they’re kinda messy and as much as she loves them (especially dogs,)  she wouldn’t want the responsibility of taking care of them.

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals? 

Eh. Just average. Not great, not bad. Average.

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

She gets along with them alright! She’s pretty good with kids, and kids tend to like her. She’d be a fun parent. The kind who impulse-buys you video games.

11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?

Nah. She eats too much sugar, though, and she probably needs to stop that.

12. What is their favourite food? 

Does konpeito count?

13. What is their least favourite food?

That kind of chocolate that has like no sugar? Like, extremely dark chocolate.

14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?

At least once in her life, she’s gone an entire day eating entirely candy. THAT’S SO UNHEALTHY AYAKO PLEASE STOP

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

Mmmm, not sure. I don’t think she ever really learned. She’d probably be able to make something decent with some help, but alone, it would probably be kinda bad.

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? 

… Rainbow stationery. She’s got a special box full of the stuff. Pens, paper, glitter, glitter glue, stickers. Please stop her, she’s going to decorate everything.

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?

SELFIES!!!!!!!!!!! SELFIES SHE LOVES SELFIES!!!!!!!!

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

Horror, mystery, stuff. Probably on the opposite end there, also any and everything cute.

19. What’s their least favourite genres?

Educational stuff. Boooooring.

20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?

Yes and yes. She’ll probably try to dance. And fail.

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

She can be short-tempered, but she tries not to be. She’d probably yell at you.

22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

She’ll say things to people’s faces… She probably doesn’t have a favorite, though? This is subject to change.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?

Better with faces than names. A pretty average memory, leans more on the good side until it comes to school. Between short-term and long-term memory, no idea what would be more helpful with rhythm games. Whichever would be more useful.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

She will sleep ‘till noon if you let her and she’ll stay up all night. No impulse control on this girl. She can sleep just about anywhere, but she loves soft things.

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

She thinks she’s funny. She uses a lot of sarcasm in her jokes. She’s not that funny, but she thinks she is.

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? 

Her response to most emotions is play rhythm games. 

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

She won’t cry in front of someone. Ever. Unless she has absolutely no choice, OR they’re a person she trusts deeply. Jokes about her intelligence or lack of skill in something make her sad. She’ll be sad for a little before she gets just… angry.

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

Death. She really doesn’t wanna die. She’ll do her best to pretend she’s not scared of anything.

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? 

It depends on who that person is, and how bad the fear is. If it’s someone she cares about who’s very scared of something, she may get kind of protective, but unless it’s serious, she’ll probably tease them.

30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?

Yes, if playing DDR counts as exercise. She’s also going to be joining the cheer squad. I don’t think she’d act too much different pre/post workout?? Shrug emoji.

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?

Okay, she doesn’t usually drink, no, but she’s been drunk once. She’s kind of an emotional baby when she’s drunk, but also she’d flirt with anyone. she got drunk the other day, got her first kiss, and just devolved into a giggly mess for a minute there it was so cute tbh

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

RAINBOWS!!!!!! PASTELS!!!!! NEON!!!! ALL THE COLORS!!!! OH MY GOSH SO MANY COLORS. I’m not sure what kind of shops particularly, but… She’s got tons of clothes. All different colors. She loves flashy stuff. In the way of sleepwear, she probably has a few very-oversized t-shirts and she’ll just wear that to bed, with optional sweatpants. 

She’ll wear a little makeup, sometimes, but for the most part, not all that much. She doesn’t wanna just sweat it off or something. For special occasions, definitely. Her hair’s blue and I want to touch it. I don’t actually know how to describe the style it’s in, but like… It looks like GUMI’s hair? Similar style.

34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?

She’s got a bit of muscle! 5′2. She’s very confident about her body, actually. She has a lot of secret insecurities about herself personality-wise and she doesn’t think she’s exceptionally pretty in the face, but she does like her body.

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure? 

She loves that romancey stuff sometimes, okay. She will deny it adamantly, but. Unguilty pleasure is everything else, okay.

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

Rhythm games, obviously. She’s kind of got an eye for decorating, too. She can sing, too.

37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?

Not particularly. She’s kind of a slower reader. … Maybe some poetry. Not most. Fiction > nonfiction any day.

38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?

Tenacity. Not giving up on new things when you don’t get them right. She wishes she was better in school. Even with her best efforts, she still has C’s, mostly.

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? 

Texting or IMing people is always easiest.

40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?

She likes ‘em, but honestly doesn’t need them.

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?

She’s pan. Generally, personality is more important than looks in her opinion, but being attractive definitely doesn’t hurt anything. She probably likes weird-colored hair. Loves it. 

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

She just… wants to improve herself. She doesn’t have any specific goals,  but she would really just like to find something other than rhythm games that she’s naturally good at and use that to get a job. Rhythm games are probably not going to support her forever.

44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? 

She likes summer and spring. Sunny weather is her favorite and she’s better in the heat. She doesn’t really like the cold. Or the rain. She’ll complain in both of those.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? 

She tends to brag a lot – trying to seem like she’s confident when she’s not. It makes her come off as vain and self-centered. She really has a lot of insecurities and that’s her way to try and seem cool.

47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?

She tries. She TRIES. She is horribly stressed and awkward through the whole thing, though. She would dislike it a lot because she’d feel so pressured not to mess up.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? 

She just went to her first party recently. She’s… not entirely sure how she feels about them. They’re okay. She’d probably try to be pleasant. If she was dragged along, she’d probably just follow her friend around the entire time.

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

She has a charm bracelet from her sister. It’s got a broken clasp, but she still has it saved somewhere.

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials? 

Ayako’s essentials include clothes, a hairbrush, toothbrush/toothpaste, her phone, charger, headphones, and a portable battery. I’m assuming this isn’t like one of those questions about like. A deserted island.

[my-darling-sunflower]

this is all so crazy.. the fear is there, the acceptance is there, the restlessness is there. i cant figure out what to feel or how to cope, i guess the “mom” energy is more prevalent right now. i dont exactly care about this whole situation for me and my situation but i worry about my family, my friends, my sisters. it makes you realize just how fragile and short life can be. i feel like i’m torn, i cant tell if ive accepted my death after so many years of being on the edge or if ive just lost my sense of self completely. ive gotten back into manga, anime, games, art. all things i distanced myself from for a while to try and figure out who i was. i tried being girly and dresses and feminine, i tried long hair, short hair, i tried overly sexual and complete monogamy, indie, country, folk, soul, all over. i still dont know where i fall. i just want to know who i am. i have no idea where i sit, its hard finding my identity. especially after my whole life has been determined by other people, be it parents, spouses, or even my mental health distorting who i was. i have things i love, but i always question it. do i love it or have i just spent years being told i love it? or, even worse, do i dislike it deep down but have spent so long trying to justify it because i wanted to try something out and had to fight tooth and nail to express myself in any way. i loved purple as a kid, my mother llikes purple, and all my sisters do too, but because my family takes no time to get to know me they think i only like black. my aunt gets bags, mugs, cups, blankets the whole nine with my sisters and moms names on them every year. ive been excluded from this for years because they refuse to believe i like anything but black. its a horrible feeling. theyve never wanted to see me. my home. my life. they dont care. no one wants to know me and im still struggling to figure out who i am but that doesnt excuse the lack of effort from those around me. but i also feel like i am not entitled to their love or care. they complain that i dont make the effort to check on them, or go visit, but on the flip side, my grandparents on my moms side have my number, they have never called me to checkup on me, to see if im even alive. why is it on me to make that effort? they can watch my sisters anytime my mom asks, they practically raise my cousin, and my other cousin lived with them almost her whole life. i dont understand how they can do all that for them but i have never once received a “hey how are you doing? we miss you” idk. i just need a space to vent and thats what this is right? a space for me to express the feelings i cant tell anyone else because theyre too far up their own ass to even begin to understand anyone elses problems. anyway. i did a crazy work out today, actually pretty proud of myself. my roommate watched me for the first time and was amazed at what i could do even tho i work out every day and i was happy that i could out last him even tho he likes to think hes stronger than me i have much stronger endurance. i havent been sleeping. i can count the good nights of sleep on one hand with fingers to spare. its been tough. lots of intrusive thoughts, lots of fear and anxiety. i really want help. i want to stop feeling like this i want to feel peace and calm for once in my life and that feels like it may never even happen. i have thoughts of the guy i always post about. he was here yesterday, the more he comes over the more i see just how human he is, its reassuring because even though i am flawed and i have my issues he still texts me and comes over and he always asks me if im doing okay before we do anything and after he asks me if im okay and if im good, no man in my life has ever cared enough and thats how i now hes a good person but it breaks my heart because he is good man who i cant have. hes not mine and i know he never will be but im thankful for him. i think about all the little things that make me smile. i was once having the biggest panic attack and he came over, held me, and distracted me from the world, that isnt his place im not his responsibility and i feel weird saying this but i am sad that his ex wife left him when their child was born, and i dont know the circumstances of their life back then but damn he would be an amazing father. he is safe. i cant have it, and i tear up thinking about it. i want that, i want a man i trust wholeheartedly. he makes me feel attractive, sexier than ive ever been. beyond that i literally cant help but smile around him, i feel aware of everything around him, his smell is intoxicating, truly the first man ive ever looked at and i cant find a single flaw, i would listen to him talk forever, sitting on my counter in a lace top and panties talking to him leaned against the wall and hes casually eyeing me, makes a comment about how i must be easy to shop for. thinking back i crave his eyes on me. he likes the things i hate, ive found acceptance in a way i have never known. my insecurities, my physical flaws, my ugly faces, ugly sounds, they become my strongest assets because he likes them, i can wrap him around my finger and the man who never looses his cool is melting under me. but on the same note he can ruin me, he makes me feel content like ive never known, i crave the touch, the passion, the last look he takes before walking out my back door, the hop skip and a jump i do through my kitchen after locking the door. he leaves me laughing every time, god i could talk about him forever. i fucking hate it, i hate that i cant have it. i cant have a man like that. fine. i tap out, ive ranted a whole novel and i know itll just devolve into sad thoughts and trauma that should be unpacked with a therapist, not written on a platform for me to look back on and regret. maybe one day i can write about my progress, how im getting better, how sex is a healthy thing, how im in a stable relationship that will last the rest of my life, how i can trust, how i can look at a strong man and not cry at the thought of not having a father figure in my life. maybe one day...