#I simply think these pages should have had more hawk drawings!!

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Hughette's concept/reference art!

Translation notes under the cut:

The note about her master was a hard one to get the exact words for, but in general I'm pretty sure it said something about her master standing. The "before a journey" is likely a little off, though.

[falling-pages]

Coffee Break: Hawks x Reader

Hi lovelies, I’m back with considerably better mental health. I’m still taking writing a bit at a time, slowly, taking my time editing and researching to improve, but I’m finally able to produce content I love again. I’m finally recovering all the joy of writing and now I’m focusing on writing what makes me happy. Thank you for all the sweet messages and support, it means the world to me :)

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Quirkless Reader x Hero Hawks

Fluff

Warnings: None

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“Americano with almond milk for you, chai latte for me.”

You had been so focused on your report that you didn’t even notice the window opening and your winged boyfriend climbing through until he slid your favorite drink in front of you. The smell was heavenly, steaming through the paper cup bearing your local shop’s logo. Your fingers still against the keyboard as you reach for it, stretching out your cramped digits. After typing for hours, any sort of movement sent discomfort rattling up your hands.

“Thanks, Kei,” you say as he hovers behind you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. 

He bent to wrap his arms and wings around you, clutching you close in your chair as you cradled your coffee to your chest. The little cocoon he had suddenly made enveloped you in warmth, cutting off your view of the computer with his beautiful red plumage. All you could see, sense, and smell was him.

He ran his lips up to your temple, the shell of your ear, the spot beneath your earlobe, giving little pecks of affection while he had you under his wings. What good were those wings, anyways, if he couldn’t use them to comfort you?

“Are you nearly done, dove?” he asked, snuggling his face into your hair. “You’ve been at this for hours. Honestly I didn’t know if you were human or one of those robots the captcha quizzes ask about.”

You chuckle, leaning back against his chest. The coffee is still extremely hot, and though your tired brain begs for it, you hold off until it cools down. Keigo gets fussy when you slurp your coffee too quickly and burn yourself. “I still have miles to go before I sleep.”

“Isn’t that some poem?” he asks. “Some American poet?”

“Robert Frost.” You twist your neck to look at him. “You remembered? You’re no poet.”

“But you are. And you quote a lot of them depending on the day.”

“Because they are applicable to my situation.” You turn back and move his feathers away from your computer, making a landing space for your still piping hot drink beside it. The bright white screen welcomes you back harshly, black lines of text still existing. When his red curtain shields you from it, you have a habit of forgetting it exists. Maybe that’s the point--making you forget your worries with kisses and gifts.

You try to lean forward to type again, but his arms hold you back. “Kei, thank you for the coffee, but I have to keep reading this report.”

“You’ve read it three times already tonight!” he whines. “The thing is 50 pages. I don’t know how your eyes haven’t fallen out of your head.”

He sends a feather to lightly touch the coozie around your coffee. Both he and the feather flinch at the contact. “At least wait until your coffee cools down,” he says. “Please? For me?”

Though the man is part bird, he can pull a very convincing puppy face. It’s true, you have gotten to the point where the lines have blurred into one massive pile of digital ink. And his plush wings and warm breath on your neck are oh so inviting.

“How did you know I’ve read it three times?” you ask softly, feeling your eyes begin to close.

“Hawks are very observant creatures,” he says. “They know when their lovebirds are tired.”

You sigh, allowing yourself to give up the ghost and slump against his collarbone. As much as you wanted to keep making revisions to the report, you knew you would force yourself into another all-nighter if you didn’t stop now. You had pulled three already this week, and Keigo had grown frustrated of going to bed alone. If you stayed up again, he would likely take matters into his own hands.

Breaks increase productivity, right?

“Okay,” you relent. “But only until my coffee cools.”

He chirps happily, sending a feather to close your laptop while he scoops you into his arms. The chirps were something you had to get used to, but once he cooed in your ear in his sleep, you couldn’t help but fall in love. He had tried so hard to hide his avain traits in the beginning of your relationship, still wary of all that the Commission had instilled in him, but with you he was free to be the man-bird hybrid his spirit longed to be--chirps, feathers, and nesting included.

You snatch your cup right before he picks you up. He brings you to the couch, where he lies down on his back and settles you against his chest, making you leave your drink on the coffee table. As you lie against him, head against his heart while his lips graze the top of your crown, his wings flutter over you and wrap in to swaddle the two of you together. Abdomen warmed by his body heat, legs tangled up in his, the throaty coos in your ear, his heartbeat slowly lulling you into peace...you knew what he was trying to do.

“I can’t sleep yet, Birdie,” you whisper, drawing a pattern with your finger on his other pec. “As much as I’d like to, this is just a little break. I can come to bed tonight if I get all my reading done.”

“You work so much,” he sighed. His Adam’s apple bobbed against the top of your head. “I think you need to relax a bit.”

“Cuddling you is relaxing,” you say, and though your voice hitched as if to continue, you left the sentence there. He already knew how hard you, being quirkless, had to work to make anything of yourself. It was hard enough to get a minimum wage job without some sort of quirk, much less get into law school, where rich prep kids with genetically-perfect powers took all the top ranks. You might have graduated top of your commoner class, but even your best strategies and most cut-throat arguments couldn’t hold a candle to those born with sharp tongues and persuasive tones. The only thing that kept you going was the fact that you could represent other quirkless clients--and, in that, maybe fight the discrimination you had grown up with.

“Lovebird.”

You turn to him, yanked out of your insecurities when you hear his soft voice utter a pet name only for you. Others might be dominating your class, but none of them were dating a certain winged hero.

“I don’t know how to make you see yourself the way I see you,” he said simply, reaching a hand through your hair. “I wish you could. God, I wish you could see how perfect you are, why I adore you so much. Why it hurts to see you pushing yourself beyond your healthy limit.”

A chord struck you. You knew your hectic lifestyle wasn’t the healthiest, but it never occurred to you that it hurt him. But, looking back, you should have known all the neglected attention and lonely nights, despite being just a room away, would affect him deeply.

He had deep abandonment issues, and he was likely reliving all of that now.

Keigo took a deep breath, running his fingers down your arm. “I don’t want to be a distraction to you. I know I can be clingy, and I’ve been trying to get better, but your schooling comes first. I don’t want to take that away from you just because I’m needy.”

“Kei,” you sigh, shifting under his wings. You turned onto your stomach, forearms on either side of his face, chest pressed against chest. He lazily wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting his wings slightly so you could move. His eyes slowly scanned your face. “You don’t have to apologize. You never bother me.”

He smiled, tucking your closer beneath his wings. “Really?”

Despite his usual sass and arrogant tone in hero work, his voice is sincere, his eyes shining. The predator in him relaxes into a more docile state.

“Really.” You smooth back his hair. “Thank you for taking care of me. Now, I believe my coffee has cooled.”

You push back the curtain of plumage and reach for your drink, rolling off of him to sit by his side. As soon as you raise the cup to your lips and take that blessed first sip, you know something is wrong.

“You got me decaf.”

Your voice is hard, scaling wildly back from the soft words you had uttered against his chest. He giggles, covering his mouth with his hands, but it doesn’t hide the red mirth coloring his skin. 

“How could you!” You whine, bouncing up and away from him. 

“You need to sleep!” he says. “You have been up all night the last few days, and I need you to sleep.”

You sniffle, blinking quickly to produce fake tears. “You traitor.”

Keigo rises to hug you, nuzzling his nose against your hair. “I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he whispers. As repulsed as you are, his hugs are too nice to refuse. “I’m only trying to take care of you.”

“I know. But next time--”

“Hmm?”

“You’re buying me regular.”

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If you enjoy what I write, please consider buying me a coffee :)

[honeybeezx]

Armor - Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand - Part 5

Author’s Note: This took me literally forever to write😂 A lot will be happening in this chapter and the chapters to follow, but because of that, they may take longer for me to write. Thanks for baring with me guys and I’m so glad you all have been enjoying this as much as I love writing it!

Summary: The Silver Hawk competes in an archery competition at The Red Keep.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: violence, blood

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Don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up.

The mantra played over and over in your head as you laced your boots. Your hair was braided down your back, but no matter how hard you tried, a few whips of hair fell over your face. You knew it would not hinder your ability, but it annoyed you all the same.

“You ready for this, Little Hawk?” Bronn clasped his ginormous hand against your back and you nearly had the breath knocked from you. You bit back a cough and tried not to seem shaken by his surprise endearment that really felt more like an attack.

“Of course I’m ready.” You replied simply. You were confident in your abilities, but something didn’t seem right. There was a feeling rooted in your gut that told you to run, to get out of this as fast as you could. But your mind told you you were too far to turn back now.

Bronn smiled before looking at the flap of your tent, the only thing between you, the arena, the challengers, and the high society of Westeros. “Shoot straight, girl. Stun the livin’ daylights out of ‘em. Make anyone who ever underestimated you regret it.”

You smiled softly at Bronn. He was alright...sometimes.

You both turned your head at the trumpets sounding just outside your tent.

“Think that’s my cue.”

“Give ‘em hell.”

You adjusted your brace, made sure your quiver was tightly strapped to your back, and your bow tight in hand.

Time for battle.

You walked out of the tent and forced your eyes not to water at the blinding sun. It was such a large shift from the shaded tent, were you not accustomed to training your eyesight in various types of weather, you might have shed a tear or two at the brightness. You wondered if the other competitors could do the same.

There were people on all sides of you. It was overwhelming. Normally you could scout your area, eliminate threats before taking your place to shoot. Here the threats were like your own personal wall, a couple hundred of them surrounding you, anyone willing to strike at any moment.

But above them all were the only two you were seriously concerned about. Cersei, and her son, King Jeoffry of the Seven Kingdoms.

You introduced yourself and gave a small bow. This was the first time meeting the king after all. Both looked less than amused.

“You’re the best archer in the seven kingdoms?” The boy-king laughed. “Is this a joke? I have squires bigger and more impressive than you. You’re a...woman.”

If the king was trying to mock you, he was going to have to try a lot harder than that. What he had said hundreds of men had said before. “My skill doesn’t depend upon physical stature. Only a steady arm and a sharp eye. I’d like to compete and give a presentation of my skill if it pleases the king.” You responded with all the airs of a highborn. Highborn. You were no lower than them. If anything, you were above them where morality was concerned.

“I hope your skill is more impressive than the sight of you. My uncle speaks of you very highly, and I don’t like being disappointed.”

Imagine how the rest of us felt when you became king.

“Your uncle hates being wrong as much as you don’t like being disappointed, your grace. I don’t think he would have encouraged me to enter this most esteemed competition should he think you may be disappointed or should put his intelligent reputation at risk.” You teased, not above mocking your friend in public.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but knew he should choose his words carefully around the king. “You won’t be disappointed. I’m clearly not keeping her around because she’s good company.”

“She’ll put on a good show.” Cersei smirked.

It will be quite a show when you’re removed from power.

“We’ll see.” You took that as your cue to leave, knowing that was about as much as you could take from the Lannisters.

But when you turned around, you were finally met with the other competitors. They all looked intimidating, but you didn’t feel intimidated. You would only feel that once you saw their skill. You had learned a long time ago that many men liked to look tough without actually being so, and in the skill of archery, no amount of muscle or fancy armor would help you win a competition.

You estimated about 25 yards between you and the target as you stood before it. You had it targets from farther away, but whether or not you could hit the center of a target was another matter completely. You couldn’t remember the last time you had shot arrows for a tournament. Your arrows were meant for damned people, not for sport. But you could use more money, you needed money to survive.

At least that was how you were going to justify all this to yourself.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the sun catch something shiny and gold. You turned your head to find Ellaria in a peach-colored dress with gold embellishments, and Oberyn in a burnt sienna cloak with the very same embellishments. Both pairs of eyes had settled on you, sparkling with excitement. Oberyn gave you a small nod of encouragement. Show them what you have, brave girl.

“The rules are simple.” The squire began, bringing you and the other competitors to attention. “Whoever does not hit the center of the target is eliminated. After each round, the contestants will move back more and more until one person is standing. Competitors, draw your bows.”

Everyone did as commanded. You took a deep breath.

“Shoot.”

You let the arrow fly without a single thought.

It pierced the center of the target effortlessly. The tall, brutish man next to you did the exact same thing. You saw a few others had as well, and a few who had missed by just a sliver. The man glared at you, but you held your gaze.

You’re the competition here. Most of these people probably know who you are and want nothing more than to beat the legendary Silver Hawk. Do not let some man with more muscles than brains take your place.

“Walk 15 paces back.” The page instructed. You all did as you were told. When the page was sure everyone was in an even line, he signaled to draw your bow again.

“Shoot.”

Your arrow pierced the middle of the target once again, just a hair away from your last arrow. You were making this look easy. No one left this round. The obvious amateurs were gone within the first round. The real competition began now.

It was the same thing over and over again, and honestly? You were getting a little bored. Shoot. Walk back 15 paces. Shoot. Walk back 15 more paces.

Until it wasn’t that anymore.

You were at the edge of the arena. You didn’t even notice that it was only the brute and you. He had hit every single arrow in the middle of the target just as you had. You could tell his bow was handcrafted, and his arrows were from the smoothest steel. He was as knowledgeable as you when it came to wielding a bow, a worthy competitor too, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

The target was easily 75 yards or so away. You didn’t know if even you could hit that. This was certainly the farthest you had ever been. You would have never taken this shot if it were an animal or someone you needed to eliminate. Was this easy for your competitor? He didn’t look even a tad nervous, you hoped you didn’t either. You did look focused though, as you considered the distance, the wind, your own strength. Would your bow even shoot that far?

Guess you were about to find out.

���Archers, draw your bow.”

You did as you were told, and closed your eyes, just for a second. You felt the fletching brush against the tips of your fingers, your hand holding onto the leather grip firmly, the cool silver of your arrow brushing against your cheek for just a second, your feet planted into the earth. The world fell around you. All you knew was the arrow, and how to make it fly.

And it did.

Flew just inside the center of the target, just barely making a bullseye.

The man’s arrow was just outside.

“Yes!!!” Bronn jumped up and pumped a fist in the air. “That’s our girl!!”

“Did you have any doubt that she could do it?” Tyrion asked cheekily, secretly elated that his champion won the whole tournament, that his friend had her moment of glory.

“It seems I will find myself short of some money.” Oberyn chuckled. “Your Silver Hawk, Lord Tyrion...she is very special.” He said, smiling at you from afar.

Tyrion smiled too. “Yes, she is.”

You let yourself laugh as the sound of applause filled your ears. Even your opponent offered his hand.

“You’re a fine shot. I’m just glad the stories are true. I didn’t want to leave here disappointed.” The man winked at you before taking his leave. You were about to take your leave as well when a voice called out over the cheer of the crowd.

“Wait!”

Your head whipped around. For a moment you forgot the golden-haired king entirely. He studied you with a vicious glare in his eyes that made you uneasy. You tried not to show it, but it was no use.

“Bring out the prisoner from yesterday.” The king commanded.

After a moment, the guard brought out a prisoner in chains. He was a big man, balding and bearded. He looked scared out of his wits and you were more nervous for him than you were for yourself.

“Chain him to a post.”

The guards did as they were told and chained the prisoner to one of the posts holding up the arena. The scared and nervous expression that matched his let him know you were not in on whatever this was.

“Place an apple on his head.”

Fuck.

A target was one thing, but a man’s life now rested in your hands. If you missed, it was his life in the line. The pressure was more intense now. The tournament was to uphold your reputation, it was all you had. But this was something much more frightening. To take the life of terrible people who hurt other people was one thing, to take the life of an innocent person was another, and even more so, to do it by accident.

“Shoot the apple.”

You once again scouted the distance. It was far, but you wouldn’t hurt this man. You would aim high, you’d rather miss far over his head than to pierce it. You gave a small nod to the man. I won’t hurt you, I promise.

You set your target. You aimed a bit higher than the center, not wanting the arrow to be any closer to his head than it needed to be.

1...2...

The juices of the apple ran down the man’s temple and dripped from his chin. The man looked like he could have passed out from relief, or maybe because he didn’t breathe that entire time.

“Oh sweet gods above, thank you! Thank you milady, don’t know ‘ow to repay you”

You smiled kindly at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “No need to thank or pay me. I don’t harm people without actual cause, and you’ve done me no offense.”

“Now shoot him.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. Your eyes grew wide, looking. To the other to make sure you heard that right, but his fear matched yours.

Even Tyrion looked to his nephew in horror. “Perhaps, nephew, you forget that this is a tournament and not an execution. This is not what she signed up for, this is not what we agreed on.”

“I don’t need to comply with your deal or her conditions. I am king, and you would do best to remember that, uncle, before you are the one tied to the post.” Jeoffey spat.

You tried to clear your head. How could you possibly get out of this? “If I am to shoot him, I would like to know the nature of his crimes.” You demanded.

“He stole wine and has been rotting in a cell. He takes up space there. I want him disposed of.”

All of this for some wine? “Surely your grace can find some other use for him? There is much to be done around the palace with your wedding approaching so soon, is there not? Perhaps he could serve as staff around the castle or-“

“Look at him!” He spat. “He’s fat, pathetic, and lazy. He’s no use to me. Shoot him or die, those are your options.”

Oberyn stood before the queen regent, his fist balled. “Convince your son to forget this. The Silver Hawk has done her part, she’s won the tournament. She kills for Tyrion, not Jeoffey, and even then she does not strike me as the type of person to just kill anyone. Everyone’s been entertained enough.”

Cersei just smiled something wicked. “I have no influence over my son. He is king, his word is the law. If the Silver Hawk is as good as she says, she’ll be able to do this, I doubt you have any cause for concern.” She smirked before sipping her wine.

Oberyn gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the queen. “She will not forget this if you make her take this man’s life. She does not kill without reason, but the murder of this man would give her cause to take revenge in the future. Don’t put her through this, and don’t give her an excuse to send one of her arrows flying in yours or your son’s direction.”

Cersei laughed. “You think she would be so stupid? She won’t do anything, not if she values her life.” Cersei leaned towards the Dornishman like she was letting him in on a secret. “The Hawk needs to learn when she is beat, when her arrows can’t save her. This will just teach her. This is good for everyone.”

“Good for everyone? Or good for your pride?”

They didn’t call him the Red Viper for nothing. His tongue was as quick as a snake's bite.

Cersei narrowed her eyes. “Step down Prince Oberyn. You and the Hawk aren’t winning this one.”

Oberyn and Tyrion shared a look of dread before returning their attention to you.

Your mind reeled. Think, think, think. What would Tyrion say or do to get out of this?

Shoot him or die, those are your options.

You took your position and tried not to look at the man for too long. He was trembling, crying, trying to break free and you couldn’t take it. You let your arrow fly.

The man let out a wail as the arrow pierced his leg. But before Jeoffery could protest, you intervened. “You asked me to shoot him my lord, so I did. You wish to dispose of him. Perhaps, Prince Oberyn, you will accept this man as a gift from Kings Landing, welcoming you to our city, and being a most gracious and humble guest. Do with him as you please since he is not fit to stay here.”

Oberyn chuckled and gave a dazzling smile. Now how did she come to think of that?

“Of course. Dorne welcomes all people. You would be most welcome in my family’s city. I could use a court jester. Once I have him trained you may visit him in Dorne, King Jeoffery.” Jeoffery seemed to quite like the thought of that. But you knew better. The same Oberyn who spoke of equality among people, the man who spoke of love and compassion would not make a joke of a poor, innocent man. And Jeoffery would be too consumed with power to think about taking a nice little trip to Dorne. “He may return with Ellaria and I when we depart.” Oberyn nodded.

You knew it was dangerous to say anything right now, you were already dancing with death as it was. But your eyes met the Prince’s, and at once he understood your level of gratitude.

“Take him to Prince Oberyn’s quarters. Chain him up there. Let the Dornish deal with this filth.” Jeoffery scoffed.

Cersei looked as if she could order to have you killed right that instant.

“Why don’t we enjoy some wine of our own to celebrate my champion’s victory? All this excitement is leaving me parched.” Tyrion suggested before his sister could do something brash.

And just like that, the festivities came to an end. As soon as you were out of sight, you stealthily followed the guards to the Lannister brothel. Firstly to escape any harm, secondly, to find the man you had just shot. You entered the brothel through the window, only to be met with the shocked face of a young girl.

“Where’s the man with an arrow in his leg?” You asked one of the girls frantically but in hushed tones. You didn’t need the guards or other Lannisters knowing you were here.

“H-He’s up the stairs in the back rooms on the left. He’s in a bad way.” The girl croaked out.

Sometimes you forgot how intimidating you could be.

“Do you have alcohol? I have to tend to him. I need alcohol and some cloth.” You tried asking in a much softer, calmer voice.

The girl nodded and scurried off. You made your way up the stairs and found the farthest back room on the left. You found the man withering in pain on the bed.

“You need to try and control your breathing. I’m not going to be able to help you if you’re all panicked. I know it’s hard, but you have to trust me.”

The man nodded and tried to hold back the tears in his eyes. You took deep breaths, and he tried breathing with you. “You saved my life...damned my leg but saved my life. Went through an awful lot of trouble. I’m surprised Cersei didn’t kill you right there.”

You knelt next to the man to observe his wounds. “Cersei doesn’t scare me.” You said confidently. “Just because she has power doesn’t make her a true ruler, nor her son, or any of the Lannisters. They only have power if they think we fear them.”

“Most do fear them though. And if they ‘ave the power they can ‘urt us, they ‘ave ‘urt us. Nearly killed me over some wine.” He huffed.

“If more people stood against them they wouldn’t have so much power.” They would have their status, they would have their wealth, but if the people started revolting, the people would stand a chance. Sadly, you knew the Lannisters already evoked too much fear into the hearts of the people they’re supposed to be protecting for anything to happen, at least not now. “I understand...not wanting to stand against them. I’m under the protection of Tyrion so I have more freedoms. I’m just glad King Jeoffery reacted well to the decision not to kill you.”

“'Aye, that makes two of us.”

You turned your head at the sound of a door opening. You were expecting the young girl from before only for your eyes to meet Ellaria’s dark ones. She came in with the cloth and a bag of assorted ointments which she promptly dumped on the bed before unchaining the man.

“How are you?” She asked the man frantically, her mind only focused on helping him.

“Well, other than an arrow bein’ in me leg I’m just great.” He quipped.

“He’s calmed down a lot. We should be ready.”

Ellaria nodded her head, knowing what you meant.

“Ready for-“

Before he could finish, you quickly removed the arrow from his leg. He howled in pain, but Ellaria was working fast. She made quick work of using the ointments and tying his leg tight with the cloth to stop the blood flow.

The man was sobbing and gripping your arm like his life depended on it. It hurt, but you bit back your pain. Didn’t seem right to complain when the man just had an arrow ripped out of his leg.

Oberyn entered and knelt next to you, offering the man a cup. “Drink this. It will help with the pain and help you sleep. It’s a sedative of sorts.”

The man quickly downed the tea, willing to do anything to get rid of the ridiculous amount of pain. He handed the cup to you and laid his head back against the pillow. “Thank you, all of you. I owe you all my life.”

“Just get some rest. Your body has gone through a lot today and you’ll need sleep to recover your strength.” You chided, standing up to leave. Oberyn and Ellaria followed to leave the man in peace.

“Thank you for helping him, both of you. He is alive because of your kindness.” You thanked. You couldn’t help but be a bit surprised. Most royalty would not have cared about the life of one poor commoner, but neither of them wasted any time in helping him. The more you learned about the two of them the more questions you asked. Why were they so different from the highborn you’ve met? You shouldn’t like them as much as you do. Highborn were supposed to be snobbish, egotistical, and rude, they were supposed to be like the Lannisters.

But they weren’t.

“It is you he should thank. If you wouldn’t have tricked the king like that, you would have had no choice but to kill him to save yourself.” Ellaria reasoned.

But you were having none of it. “I still shot him with an arrow. He would still be in pain were it not for the ointments and tea. And you,” you began, turning towards Oberyn, “were you serious about bringing him to Dorne?”

Oberyn smiled and nodded. “Yes, though I am in no need of a jester, my family keeps me entertained enough.” He laughed. “But I will take him to Dorne. From there he can do as he pleases. If he does not wish to stay in Dorne I will find him passage somewhere else. Every innocent man should be free. Stealing some wine does not warrant death, nor imprisonment when they have enough Dornish wine to fill the Shivering Sea.”

“Thank you.” You smiled kindly, placing a hand on his arm. You both locked eyes for a moment and your heart skipped a beat.

What the fuck is this?

Why were your cheeks getting hot? Why did your whole body feel warm and light?

“Ahem.” Ellaria intervened, smirking all the while. You broke your gaze and returned your attention to Ellaria. “I am not as generous as my lover. I demand payment for my services. I spent good money on those ointments.”

You were surprised by Ellaria’s sudden shift in behavior. She had all the riches in the world and she wanted payment? “I earned my money and you have-“

“A dance.” She interrupted before you could rattle off your other five reasons why she wasn’t getting your money. “A dance at the boy Lannister’s wedding. One with each of us.”

Of course that’s what she wanted.

You wanted to say no, you almost did. But Ellaria had spared her ointments and Oberyn put himself in harm's way just by siding with you when you tricked Jeoffery. Sure, Jeoffery had been amused with the idea of the man as a jester for the Dornish, but Oberyn didn’t know the king would go along with it. And they both of them were certainly not going to be in the good graces of Cersei now.

Not that they were to begin with, but this certainly didn’t help matters.

“I don’t know if you even want to make that request, Ellaria. I’m not a dancer-“

“We will teach you.” Oberyn interrupted before you could protest more, clearly excited by his lover’s suggestion. “I am familiar with certain dances, but Ellaria is the best dancer in Dorne. She can teach anyone to dance.” He purred, pulling her closer to his side before they gazed at each other lovingly.

It was disgustingly cute.

Ellaria playfully hit his chest. “He praises me too much, but I will teach you. You are light on your feet, no? You will not be as bad as you think.”

You sighed, knowing you were going to regret this. “Seems I cannot refuse.” You gave them both a soft smile. “I owe you both, and seeing as I am employed by a Lannister, I can’t very well avoid paying my debt. I would be honored to share a dance with both of you.”

“Good.” Ellaria smiled cheekily. “And since it was my idea, I get first dance.” She teased her lover, in which he grabbed her waist forcefully and pulled her close to him, pecking her lips, but sparing you any more public displays of affection.

Secretly, you didn’t mind. They were actually quite cute when you didn’t have to scold them for trying to make you so flustered.

“I suppose I can live with that considering I will have the pleasure of dancing with the two most beautiful women in the capital.”

You smiled softly and blushed.

Then you quickly remembered yourself.

You cleared your throat. “Anyways, I need to return to The Red Keep. I’m sure Tyrion is waiting to scold me about infuriating his sister again. I better get it all over with now.” It was a lame and rather pathetic excuse, but if you didn’t leave soon you were afraid they would make some remark on the sudden flustered state you now found yourself in.

“We will see you in a few days then. Stay guarded, Silver Hawk. Our actions did not please Cersei, she was rather determined to see you kill that man today and she did not get what she wanted. Find us should anything happen.” Oberyn instructed, his sultry voice turning into something much more serious.

Ellaria’s eyes met yours. She was worried, genuinely worried. Every part of you wanted to somehow console her, to assure both of them that you would be okay. But you felt the beating of your heart pick up the pace. Tyrion, Shae, Bronn, they all worried about you, but it was always lighthearted, worry hid under a joke or a tease. But the Dornish knew no such thing, they felt everything, wore everything on their sleeve, and damned all who had anything to say about it. It was a different kind of bravery. It wasn’t charging head-first into battle, but it was more than you could ever muster, more than you’ve ever known or allowed yourself to feel. And it scared you. Because one person caring for you like this was intimidating, two people were terrifying.

“I will not hesitate to seek you both out should anything happen.” You promised. They had earned your trust, despite every bone in your body that still rebelled against them. They risked their alliance with the Lannisters and went out of their way to help a man they didn’t know, a man they didn’t have to save. There was something to be said in that.

You exited the brothel and returned to the palace. You stocked your arrows and checked your armor. The wedding would only be days away. What would become of the Dornish? Would they ever return? Could you ever go to them?

And why were you thinking of these things? It didn’t matter where they would go. They would do as they pleased and you would go where Tyrion led. Tyrion, Shae, Bronn, they were home. But when you slept that night, your mind was filled with flashes of warm oranges, golds, yellows, bronzed skin, sharp features, dark hair, and eyes that could switch between sharp and kind in an instant.

But you didn’t see red.

Not yet.

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Tag List (if I’m missing someone or if you would like to be added please let me know!): @ilikechocolatemilkh @rpcvliz @janelongxox @evyiione @grogusmum

[ao3bronte]

Transience

This is my contribution to @mlwriterzine Once Upon A Season! It was a pleasure to be a part of the project and the finished piece (a gorgeous 260 page paperback) was a treat!

Also on AO3!

Adrien is and always has been a young man of many talents. He excels in sports, outshines in academics, and loves tinkering with the vintage 1962 Ferrari he keeps in a secret garage just up the road from their belle-époque penthouse apartment in Paris. So honestly, Marinette shouldn’t have been surprised upon finding a sailing yacht waiting for them in the luxurious marina of Saint-Tropez.

“Um...” Gobsmacked, Marinette slips off her sandals and follows him over the exquisitely varnished toerail, “... since when do you know how to drive a boat?”

“Since I was eight.” Adrien shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Mère loved to come down every year to watch the annual regatta. She even sailed in a few of them herself.”

“Wow.” Marinette’s eyes grow wide as she gawks at the opulent 16 metre sailboat. She’d never dreamt of setting foot on one, let alone cruising on one through the French Riviera for a week on her honeymoon. Elated, Marinette can hardly keep the stars from her eyes as she drops her shoulder bag and scampers across the deck until she reaches the front of the vessel, splaying her arms out wide.

“I’m the king of the world!” she cries, laughing as Adrien runs along behind her and plants his hands on her hips, holding her steady.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” She grins into the salty breeze coming off the Mediterranean and steps onto the first rung of the railings. “Just don’t let me fall overboard.”

“You’ll be flying soon, M’Lady.” Adrien pulls her against his chest and presses a kiss to her temple, his stubble scratching softly against her skin. “But first, we have some fenders to collect.”

Marinette blinks. “Uh... what exactly is a fender?”

Adrien’s indulgent laughter echoes in the headsail. “You’re about to get a crash course in Sailing 101, Buginette. Are you ready to be my first mate?”

Marinette spins around in his arms and bops him on the nose. “Teach me everything you know, Captain Kitty.”

Adrien hums, tipping her chin upwards to kiss her lips. “I like the sound of that.”

~

After a few minutes of acquiring her sea legs, Marinette and Adrien Dupain-Cheng are off amidst the serene waves of la Côte d'Azur for a honeymoon trip of a lifetime. Marinette can’t keep her eyes off of the hill-perched towns dotting the coastline, sun-drenched and prismatic against the turquoise waters of the Med. Beside her, Adrien keeps their vessel steady, his seasoned gaze trained on the horizon as they pull out of port and soar northwards, the wind at their every beck and call.

For centuries, every Parisian worth their salt flocked to the French Riviera to soak up the Mediterranean sun and the Agreste’s were no different, once upon a time. Adrien’s childhood memories aboard the Éphémère remind him of bouillabaisse and happier days spent scampering across deck pretending to be a pirate in search of buried treasure. It’s something he hopes he can share with his own children one day, especially now that he and his wife no longer have to spend every spare moment of their lives fighting Hawk Moth.

Sensing her husband’s pensive mood, Marinette snuggles deeper into his side as the afternoon sun begins to dip towards the horizon. She doesn’t need Adrien to assure her that their evenings onboard together will be positively serene with nothing but the seabirds to obstruct the sunset that will surely steal their breath away. He kisses her forehead and hugs her close, his guiding light within the storm that had been brewing since his childhood. After all those years of rough seas at the hands of his father, things were finally settling into an even keel.

Marinette learns the ins and outs of sailing quickly, securing lines and watching for traffic as they navigate along the seaboard of Saint Raphaël . Jibs and boons soon become a part of her vocabulary, and once they've successfully moored in the neighbouring marina, Marinette feels like she's run a marathon.

"That was exhausting," she groans, slumping into the cushions on the sundeck.

Adrien beams, having barely broken a sweat. "Come on; I'll make it worth your while."

Hauling her back onto her feet, Adrien leads her down into the main cabin. All clean lines and warm teak, Marinette leaves her duffel bag on the sofa and explores the spacious interior with curious eyes, carding her fingers through the decades old fashion magazines stacked in a woven basket resting on the floor. He leaves her to explore and hauls their luggage and a cooler down the ladder, filling the marine fridge with fixings for their first dinner outside of Paris. It's peaceful, with nothing but the sounds of the waves to keep them company.

The lights are warm and low in their galley kitchen, a cozy escape from the endless vistas of rocky crags and pastel-orange buildings whose narrow streets spill into the sea. Their table is just large enough for two wicker placemats and a bottle of Mouton-Cadet; old vases filled with seaglass and shells rest on every side table, their edges wrapped in nautical rope. By the counter, Marinette grates a snowy pile of Pecorino cheese over a mound of steaming spaghetti while beside her Adrien grinds fresh pepper into a ramekin, his stomach growling after an afternoon spent at sea. A comfortable silence ebbs and flows between them as the evening tide laps against the hull, drawing them towards the tangy, indulgent nest of cacio e pepe they made together.

~

Marinette wakes the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and a deftly wrapped gift on the bedside table of their lavish master cabin. Slipping her bare legs across the silk sheets as she sits up, she opens her present and plucks one of her own Chat Noir inspired creations from the tissue paper along with a note attached inside.

Care to go for a dip with me, M’Lady?

Marinette snorts and ties the black and neon green bikini up at the neck and hips, leaving a few very tantalizing strings to pull should Adrien let his feline instincts get the best of him. Goodness knows he wouldn’t be able to resist himself, what with the way he could hardly keep his hands off of her last night while they were trying to find a deck of cards in the saloon. She glances at herself in the mirror to wipe the sleep from her eyes and quickly fastens her hair into a loose ponytail, ready to tease her husband senseless.

“Welcome to Cannes!” he announces as she emerges from below deck, mesmerized by the morning sun illuminating his blond hair like a halo. He’s gorgeous in every sense of the word, thoughtful and generous and unfailingly kind, and even in his darkest moments, he never ceases to steal her breath away.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, hooking her fingers into the belt loops of his chinos, “but not as beautiful as you.”

A ruddy flush blooms across his cheeks, a constant victim to her soft-spoken praises. “I can hardly compete against you, Buginette, especially when you’re wearing that.”

“I don’t know...” She grazes her fingernails against his bare chest and smirks as the familiar rumble in his sternum kicks into low gear. “I think the sun suits you.”

“Enough to consider moving down here for good?”

Marinette shrugs; keeping their lives rooted in Paris has been a point of contention between them since the arrest of his father. “Not permanently, no, but I wouldn’t protest if we vacationed here more often.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you overwork yourself,” he responds, closing his eyes as she continues to explore the chiseled planes of his abs. She’s always been gifted when it comes to distractions and this morning is no different; like wayfaring on a starless night, she’s always been the beacon to guide his way. “Now, I thought I invited you up here for a swim?”

“You did.” Marinette steps back, giving him the merciful reprieve he’d needed to calm his beating heart. “And it is kind of hot up here.”

His grip on the ship’s wheel tightens. “No thanks to you.”

“Easy there, Captain Kitty.” Marinette smirks, flicking the golden bell sewn to the bridge of her bikini top. “Race you!”

“Hey!” he gapes at her, scandalized. “I still have to drop anchor!”

Marinette giggles as she zooms past him, leaping off the back of the boat with delight. “Last one in the water has to make breakfast!”

~

Meandering through the Medieval streets of the old city, Marinette and Adrien pause to catch a glimpse of Villefranche-sur-Mer ’s idyllic harbour. There’s an enormous cruise ship dominating the horizon and Adrien is thankful that they’d brought their disguises in tow. No one has recognized either of them with the way they’ve camouflaged themselves in their floppy beach hats and oversized sunglasses.

Marinette spends the afternoon popping in and out of boutiques with turquoise shutters, snapping photos and picking up little trinkets along the way. They stop for lunch at a peaches-and-cream couloured bistro nestled against the water’s edge, its open windows basking the sunlit stone walls with salt-scented air. Adrien joyfully devours his meal, a simply grilled loup de mer with fennel and lemon, while Marinette chatters over a bowl of Niçoise octopus salad that she had been eager to try since spotting it on the chalkboard menu outside.

“It feels weird, not having them around.” Adrien balances a piece of julienned fennel between the tines of his fork. “It’s the first time I’ve taken my ring off in ten years.”

“I promise you, Tikki and Plagg are appreciating their vacation too,” Marinette assures him around a mouthful of cherry tomatoes. “They deserve a break after what happened. We both do.”

Adrien nods and is quiet for a while.

~

“When I was a kid, I used to watch the cliff divers jump into that cove,” Adrien mentions as they sail by, pointing towards a sharp craig jutting from the coastline. “I always wanted to do it myself. Maybe I will.”

“You’re free to do whatever you want now.” Marinette smiles into the wind, the skirt of her sundress billowing up passed her thighs. “So chart us a course, Captain Kitty. Where are we going next?”

“First, we’re stopping in Èze .” Adrien brushes his bangs from his eyes and relishes in being at the helm of transience. “There are galleries all over the place that I know you’ll love. And we have a dinner reservation. I thought you’d appreciate the view.”

Marinette lowers her sunglasses. “I like the view here just fine, thanks.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Adrien smirks and snags her by the hips, easily hauling her up onto the dash of the cockpit. She squeals as he savours the salt on her skin as he plants a kiss on her knee in mock apology. “There. Now I have you right where I want you.”

She kicks and he dodges easily, catching her foot with lightning fast reflexes born from being merged with the Black Cat Miraculous for so long. It’s a familiar song and dance between them, a playful contest sparking in their eyes as he peppers kisses along her ankle, her calf, anywhere he can reach. He stops just shy of the constellation of freckles at the hem of her dress and makes eye contact through his lashes, flashing her a mischievous Chat Noir smile. “I wonder if you’re ... ticklish?

Marinette shrieks as Adrien starts tickling her toes, running his fingernails up and down the arches of her feet. She’s tortured him a thousand times by attacking his sides when he least expected it so he figures it’s about time he seeks revenge. “Adrien! Stop!”

He doesn’t, of course, and chooses to memorize each and every facet of her beauty instead; her smile and her pained laughter, her marks and scars from the final battle only a month before their wedding day. “I’m never letting you go!”

“You’re going to— stop it! —have to if we ever want to get to Èze .” Marinette manages to wrench her ankle free and hops down from the ledge, landing easily in his outstretched arms. “That is, unless you want to crash.”

“If we shipwreck,” Adrien bends low and devours that little spot on her neck that makes her weak every time, “promise me you won’t hog the whole door?”

Marinette bursts into laughter. “Are we seriously going to have this debate again?”

“I’m serious! Jack could have totally fit on that— mmpf! ”

Cupping his cheeks, Marinette hurriedly kisses away the space between them and silences his long-winded debate once and for all. It’s an effective way to shut him up—all things considered—and an astonished gasp spirals from his lips as she hoists herself up his body and brackets his hips with her thighs. She claims him, covets him, her tongue sweeping across his lower lip, and he’s helpless to her siren’s song as he braces her against the cockpit’s controls and clings to her like a drowning man.

“Alright, you win.” Breathless and lightheaded, Adrien pulls back after a while just to soak her in, to remind himself that he’s married to the most beautiful woman in the world. He gazes in awe as she recovers, her flushed cheeks and parted lips swollen and wet. Adrien is drawn back in like a magnet, kissing her with every intention of stealing her breath away.

She buries her hands in his hair, her nails gently scraping against his scalp as Adrien all but melts in her embrace, groaning with pleasure. He deepens their kiss, and Adrien feels drunk with his desire to claim, their passion speaking more than words between them ever could. Every gasp and moan conveys their everlasting partnership and the terror of nearly losing one another in the whirlwind. Shell-shocked and injured, they still held their wedding ceremony, even as the fallout had tugged at their ankles, gossip and chaos pooling around their feet. Together, they’d inherited an empire he’d never wanted in the first place, thrusting them into a world unprepared and raw with nothing but each other as a tether in the storm.

“I love you,” she murmurs against his lips, her heartbeat hammering a tattoo inside her chest. He can feel it against his own, fast and strong and wonderfully alive. “We’ll get through this; together.”

Later, as they draw nearer to the charming port town of Èze, Adrien draws her close and hopes she never leaves his side. “Where to, Miss?”

Marinette smiles. “To the stars.”

~

Nothing comes so abundantly as time when you’re sailing through the seemingly endless vistas of the Med. Their honeymoon stretches on for longer than a week simply because it can; he owns their floating home-away-from-home and she’s working remotely, snagging a Wi-Fi signal whenever they’re in port.

Neither of them seem to be in any hurry to leave the solace of the French Riviera behind. It’s where he’s feasted on fresh seafood and felt better than he has in weeks. It’s where they’ve kissed and made love under the stars a thousand times over. It’s where he’s confessed his doubts about living in Paris and where she’s supported his struggle to leave his father behind.

They’re moored in Antibes tonight and the skies are awash in vibrant pinks and apricot. He drizzles balsamic vinegar onto a shimmering pond of Italian olive oil; she wears hair pins with flowers on them and pours wine like an expert, heedless to the way he’s staring at her like she’s his only source of air.

“I love you,” he whispers. It’s enough.

[oftenderweapons]

Hold Me Close – Yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 1.1k (to be edited)

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: GP (general public)

Hello gingerbread folks! I’m just stopping by to dedicate this small thingie to @nervous-moon​, who needed some Yoongi fluff tonight. 

I’m re-editing this small drabble and adding an audio track (that you can find here - OUT SOON). The plot is very basic: Kitten is studying for a masterclass, staying up too late and taking poor care of herself. Yoongi, devoted and worried, tries to make sure she doesn’t overwork herself. As he realises she’s not in bed yet, he goes looking for her and the two have a late night heart to heart. 

I really felt like writing something relieving and comforting, so here I am. 

It’s pure fluff. A tiny bit of angst, but a reasonable amount. Just lots of cuddles. 

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

You looked at the clock. 

3.17 am. 

You pushed yourself through one more chapter. 

Just one more, you told yourself, staring at the pages on your laptop. You drank some more water to keep yourself from yawning. 

In the last few months you had been taking extra classes that explored the latest innovations in terms of copyright and authorship, focusing especially on online contents and music platforms. 

Yoongi had encouraged you into doing so, supporting you through the whole process, including he selections, the studying, and the fact that you were still working while taking the classes. 

He was basically a substitute parent, making sure that you slept a reasonable amount of hours, that you had proper breakfast, that you kept yourself hydrated and that you took your vitamins and your sleeping pills. He had a hawk eye, always spotting small details like when you left food in your lunch box, when you went too long without taking a shower and when the black circles under your eyes became too deep. Sometimes he noticed you rubbing your eyes as they were too dry from all the hours spent at the computer screen, which always made him magically appear like a fairy, pushing your chin back and helping you put eyedrops on your burning irises. 

That night, you were so caught up in your handbook, Tchaikovsky playing in your earbuds, that you didn’t notice the soft sound of Yoongi’s feet padding towards you. 

You jerked around as soon as you felt his fingertip poking your shoulder. 

He took off your earbud. “It’s three a.m., Kitten, for god’s sake.” He murmured with his gravelly voice, 

You bit your lip nervously before justifying yourself. “I just wanted to finish this chapter.”

He exhaled in disappointment. “Three a.m. Stop saying ‘just one more chapter’.” He cupped your cheek as he scolded you fondly. 

“Tomorrow is Sunday. I’m cramming so I can sleep in and spend some time with you.” You explained, wrapping your hand around his wrist. 

“Okay.” He said, sitting on the sofa, beside you, laying down on his side and placing his joined hands between his knees, his head on your lap. 

You simply moved your laptop aside as you kept reading, your hand naturally diving into his hair and carding the locks. You changed your background music to Chopin’s Nocturnes and lowered the volume, slipping one earbud into his ear. 

His face nuzzled against your belly while your hand moved down, rubbing his back. You kept your writing hand free, just to scribble down some notes as you read the penultimate paragraph. You had to read it again. 

You were reaching your breaking point, your head so full that you could barely stuff anything more in there.

Distractedly, your hand climbed up, towards Yoongi’s neck, cupping his jaw while your thumb drew small circles on his cheekbone, his eyelids fluttering once you stopped to focus on writing the keywords to the last paragraph. 

You didn’t think there was anything worth noticing. With tiredness weaving through every fiber of your being, you closed your notebook and pushed your laptop close, being as quiet as possible. Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist as you bend forward, placing your supplies on the coffee table. 

“There’s something I haven’t told you.” He murmured quietly while his fingertips moved under your shirt and traced the outline of your lower vertebrae. 

Your eyes closed at the sensation. So warm. So tender. So familiar. 

“We’ve received the new schedule today.” He said, while your palm slipped to his tummy, rubbing small circles on the fluffy fleece of his pyjamas shirt. You let your fingers slide under the hem of the garment, meeting the warm, smooth skin underneath and the endearing softness of his tummy.

“I won’t be home for our first anniversary.” He said, opening his eyes and looking up at you. 

“Japan, again?” You asked gently, trying to be as understanding as possible. 

“New York.” He replied, huffing out a loud breath. “Two weeks.”

“Then, we’ll celebrate once you’re back. It’s not a big deal.” You concluded, moving your hand back to his shoulders, placing your thumb and forefinger on the tendons at the base of his nape and pressing down with the right amount of pressure, massaging Yoongi’s tense neck. 

“Sometimes I ask myself what would happen if I had children.” He mused, joining your free hand with his, his thumb drawing gentle lines on your palm. “Would I be there the moment my woman is giving birth to our child? Or would I be on the other side of the world, too far to hold her hand, to touch her face as she goes through that kind of pain, to move her hair away from her face?”

Your hand moved to his forehead while he rolled on his back, looking at you. “Would I be able to hear her curse me, snarl at me, saying she’s not ever letting me close to her, just to forgive me as soon as she has our child in her arms?” Yoongi moved your joined hands to his lips, kissing one knuckle at a time. 

“Would I be able to run the tip of my pinkie along all of my baby’s features, just to see what is mine and what is their mother’s?” He wondered quietly.

You barely held back a sob. 

You had never wanted babies, but you were already seeing yourself in a hospital room, a white, soft bundle in your arms and Yoongi sitting at your side, completely charmed by the tiny human you were holding on your chest, feeding with your own breast. 

“No matter where you will be, I’m sure you’ll be an excellent partner, and an excellent father.” You replied, rubbing his belly and caressing his face, catching a fugitive tear with your thumb, drawing his delicate features with the tip of your fingers. 

His lovely button nose, and the fairylike arch that connected it with his brow. His eyebrows, his hairline. His barely-there cheekbones, and the bitable plumpness of his cheeks. His cupid bow. The minuscule mole beside his nose. His subtle eyelashes. The shape of his cute, elvish ears. 

He yawned and you felt him relax completely. “We should go to bed, kitty cat.” You told him. 

He nodded, but stayed still. 

It took you a bit to convince him, but finally he stood up and walked to the bedroom while you switched off the lights in the living room, following him shortly after.

Once in the bedroom, you slipped under the covers, thanking the universe that you had already done your nightly routine and you were ready for bed. 

Yoongi offered you his back and you spooned him, one of your arms venturing under his sleeping shirt, the other sliding under his head, pillowing it while your fingers toyed with his chocolate locks. 

His hand joined yours on his belly, capturing your fingers with his. “I love you, Kitten. You already are the perfect partner.” He said, before yawning. 

“I love you too, Yoongles.” 

[amethyst-geek]

Characters who haven’t been properly akumatized yet and how their akumatizations might go down

Sabine Cheng- technically she was akumatized in Ladybug, but Gabriel had to shut down the operation before her Verity Queen could properly manifest. I’d like to see her actually become Verity Queen in season 4. I’ve already wrote a few posts speculating how she becomes Verity Queen again and what her powers would, but for those who did not read those posts, I predict that Lila’s lies and/or an encounter with Mrs. Rossi will play a part in it and Verity Queen will expose Lila’s lies to the world. As for her powers, I figure that her auuamitzed item will turn into a lasso of truth and that she will also have the power to transform people into her knights (which may or may not just be their previous akuma forms) and her sentimonster will be an anomatronic knight.

Alim Kubdel- possible circumstances behind his akumatization- he is accused of being Hawk Moth due to the baddies framing him (not helped by a bunch of circumstantial evidence). I said in my “Lila’s downfall part 1″ post, I’d want his to be when Alix makes her debut as Bunnyx, but I can’t think of an Akuma persona that both fits the context “being falsely accused of being a supervillain” and would require the use of the rabbit miraculous to defeat. That said, one idea I came up with regarding his powers is the ability to summon people from he past and turn them into his minions. If Pharaoh and Timebreaker r anything to go by, Alim’s akuma form better be tough

Mrs. Rossi- Again, I have speculated a few times what her akuma person might be and the circumstances behind it. Weirdly enough, both for akuma personas have queen in the title. First is that she’s Queen Banana that has been announced that her devastation over Lila turning out to be a liar and budding super villain draws an akuma, which lands in drawing Lila made for a mom as a child (that depicts Mrs. Rossi as some sort of banana queen, hence, the name of Mrs. Rossi akuma persona). My 2nd idea for how she gets akumatized is her getting frustrated when her efforts to address Ladybug’s supposed incompetence at an embassy meeting are met with laughter (as her collegues assume she was joking), and she become Red Queen (which I originally conceived as a 2nd akuma form for Lila in the both the Lord Rogue AU and the Queen of Hearts AU, two AUs u can find out more about on this page, @princess-of-the-corner Anyway, Red Queen’s Powers (or maybe she should be called White Queen, let Lila keep the Red Queen title) consists being able to morph up to 16 chess pieces into akumas, allowing her to turn people back into their akuam forms and control through the pieces (though thanks to Lila’s lies, she’s under the impression they’re already in the akuma forms and the morphing the pieces simply allows her to get them under her control instead wreaking havoc like Lila says they still r). 

Felix- I already speculated a while back that he might become the new Chat Blanc because he wants to one-up Chat Noir (whom I predict that Felix will identify as Adrien, but doesn't share the info with anyone cause where’s the fun in that). 

Now onto people I haven't already speculated on

Mireille Caquet- maybe her being among the named Dupont students who hasn't been akuamtized leads to people speculating that she might be Ladybug and the resulting harassment leads to her getting akumatized 

Prince Ali- he returns for a visit, and when he expresses confusion when Rose mentions Lila, Lila (realizing that him exposing their supposed friendship as lie could lead to the school faculty realizing that her trip to Achu was also a lie), turns on the crocodile tears and goes “how could u forget about me after all the charity work we did together), and Rose falls for it and tells Ali that their friendship is over. Ali’s devastation over having lost a friend to someone’s lies draws in an akuma, and he then goes after Lila. This maybe the episode where Rose (if not the entire class) realize that Lila is lying rat (no offense Mullo) and apologizes to not only Ali, but also Marinette. After all, if Lila wasn't working with Ali, then why wasn't she in school (because even if her lie about being in Achu was caused by a lying disease, then her mother should have cleared that up month ago, as there’s no way Lila’s lying disease could have been properly diagnosed without her parents knowing). 

The art teacher- maybe some budget cuts lead to the art program being in danger of being shut down and a fundraiser to save the art program is sabotaged. I was thinking his powers could involve transforming people into statues and/or paintings. This might be a good episode for Nathaniel and/or Marc to make their superhero debuts. 

Marlena (Alya’s mom)- two possibilities- either somebody one of her employees sabotaged the order of a customer and Marlena gets blamed for it or someone messed with one of her daughters and got off scot-free

Bob Roth- Maybe Jagged Stone and/or Clara Nightingale quit his label (I wouldn't blame them if they did) and he’s pissed that he’s lost two big clients and he gets akumatized into a supervillain with the power to control all music. Personally I would put this under the ‘you brought this upon your own damn self’ category on Princess-of-the-corner’s “how valid is your akumatization” list.

XY- Either he’s feeling pretty inadequate after hearing his own father call him talentless back in Silencer and Hawk Moth akumatizes him into a Music Meister-esque villain (though I’d rather see Luka akuamatized into a Music Meister-esque, as it’s already been announced that Luka will have a new akuma form, but I don' know what the circumstances behind it will be). 

Alec- maybe whoever is in charge of the tv station r sick and tired go him constantly making fun of the people who lose on the shows he hosts (as it certainly doesn't seem to reduce the risk of the n getting akumatized) and they fire him. 

[ghoularts]

Let’s talk about the future chapters and fates of some characters!

Oh boy so this is gonna be a long ass post but I just wanted to discuss things about the ‘war arc’!

First, I’ll start off with Hawks/Keigo Takami.

Status: Unconscious/Severely burned, escaped to the forest away from the mansion

Hawks has become quite the controversial character in the fandom. It’s up to the reader to decide whether they believe his actions was right or wrong. There is no correct/clear answer here. I won’t dive into any of that right now, instead I’m going to focus on what his arc holds in the future.

Since he hit his head on the concrete, he was knocked unconscious and could possibly go into a coma. (Because we know Horikoshi likes to drag things out when it comes to the possibility of Dabi being Touya.)

I do not believe Keigo will die. Especially now that he holds important information about Dabi. We also don’t know Keigo’s whole backstory yet nor do we know what really happened with Jeanist. The recorder he had got burned up with his jacket or was destroyed by Dabi in this panel:

You can see a little piece go flying from his hand just above his staples.

What I do believe is Hawks will die. His hero persona. Now that his wings are gone, the Hero Commission will most likely drop him just like that. Keigo will live on with the guilt of killing Twice. He really wanted to save Twice, trying to get him to surrender, only aiming to incompacitate him until, well... you know.

When Dabi calls him dirty, he doesn’t deny it. It’s probably going to impact him a lot when all this is over. The best direction for him is to have a talk with Tokoyami about his actions and break away from the HPSC. He should expose them since they groomed him as a child into a weapon, sent kids into a war, etc.

Personally, I’d love for Keigo to become a vigilante. It suits him much better at this point. I don’t think he’ll be able to regrow/regenerate his wings. There’s nothing left, plus he could only regenerate the feathers when there were his little stubs left. Also if you remember Endeavor talking about his blue flames it makes sense; “Carbonized cells can’t regenerate.”

Next up we have Tokoyami!

Status: Alive, slightly burned, escaped to the forest away from the mansion

I’ve seen many posts about how Tokoyami was brainwashed. This is simply not the case. The Hero Commission seems to kind of despise UA or doesn’t have all to that much influence with the school. Except for the time they didn’t want the cultural festival to take place (at least that’s what I remember). Many of the teachers have their own thoughts about the Hero Commission such as Midnight in the teacher’s conference saying that the kids shouldn’t be put in battles like this. Aizawa has his suspicions about the organization as well.

Tokoyami respects his mentor because Hawks taught him many things about his Quirk and gave him good advice. (“If you’ve got wings, you should spread them out and fly. Don’t be confined to the ground.) Hawks means a lot to Tokoyami so of course he’d come to his rescue. When Dabi points out Twice’s body, Tokoyami looks horrified. When flying away and telling Hawks he did the right thing, he was running on emotions and shock. His mentor needs medical attention and fast. Caleb, a translator for the manga, notes that Tokoyami drops his edgy tone when he says these things to Hawks. Tokoyami is panicking. He just wants Hawks to be safe.

Also, his experience/interactions most likely play a role in his thinking. These villains tried to kidnap him, kidnapped a classmate, killed multiple people and plan to kill many more, and attacked his class on several occasions. Why would he believe Dabi right away when Dabi has burned alive dozens of people, thugs and innocent heroes like Snatch, and is trying to actively kill his mentor and Tokoyami himself?

Again, I think Hawks and Tokoyami will have a talk after this and Tokoyami will have to question Hawks’ actions. Keigo will probably tell him something along the lines of ‘Don’t support what I did’ or ‘Don’t follow in my footsteps.’ Call me crazy, but there’s actually the possibility that the HPSC will take notice of Tokoyami’s power and the risks he took to save Keigo. They might offer him training to be a ‘special hero’ like Keigo was. 

Miruko!

Status: Missing arm/part of leg, bleeding severely, in Jakku Hospital

Oh man where we last left off with the rabbit queen herself was her bleeding on the floor out of energy. Endeavor cauterized her wounds so at least it stopped most of the bleeding. It is worrying to know that she’s still in the hospital when Shigaraki is about to wake up and destroy everything. 

Though I don’t think she’s going to die. Especially since that color page showed mechanical limbs in the same spot where she lost them. Horikoshi also loves drawing her, so let’s hope he likes drawing her enough to keep her alive lol. She’ll probably be in recovery for a while before resuming her hero work with her new prosthetic limbs. 

Endeavor

Status: Alive, in Jakku Hospital

Endeavor was taking on Nomu with Ryukyu in chapter 269. He is also in range of Shigaraki being in the hospital with all the other heroes. Many people believe he has huge death flags, but I seriously don’t think he’ll die this arc until we know what happened with Touya. Hawks might ask him about Touya if the black speech bubble was Dabi saying that he’s Endeavor’s son. This will both crush Keigo’s admiration for the flame hero and make Endeavor realize just how badly his abusive behavior affected his family. Perhaps he’ll go public with it? Or maybe the villains will use it against Endeavor one day and the public will turn on him? 

Gigantomachia/Kirishima/Ashido

Gigantomachia is truly terrifying. He could wipe the floor and completely wreck the heroes. He has finally stood up and will be on the move, heading in Shigaraki’s direction because of his ‘Master’s Scent.’ Since Shiggy now possesses All for One, Giganto will follow his orders.

What’s even scarier is that this guy was introduced way back in Kirishima’s and Ashido’s backstory. Which means those two could possibly face this giant. Kirishima wouldn’t be able to make a dent, but Ashido could wear him down over time with the exposure to acid. I’ve also seen theories floating around about him being Crimson Riot. So Kiri facing his idol?

I’ll touch more on other characters later (Deku, Shiggy, Dabi, Mic, Aizawa, Kaminari etc.) but I’ll tell you guys which characters I think will die:

Xless (I mean, come on, Shiggy’s gonna kill this man)

Crust (we have no attachment to him, plus he hasn’t been fairing well with the Nomu. Not to mention he’s near Shigaraki as well)

Anyways, what do you guys think? Have anything to add like other potential outcomes of their arcs?

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas20 Christmas Eve: All These Broken Things

... Is it really the end of FicMas if I haven’t posted something from All These Broken Things? I think not. The first sections can be found here and here. This is the fic where Alice travelled with James and doesn’t meet the Cullens until that baseball game. 

It's very strange finally being with the family she was always destined to be with, when she thought she had lost them so long ago.

She finds great satisfaction just watching them - Emmett yelling at the sports on the television; Edward perched at the piano, Rosalie working on her cars. She hovers, like a little ghost, folded into corners and against doorframes, vanishing the second they might acknowledge her.

Esme seems to like her company, as she goes about day-to-day things, chatting away to the silent girl with the enormous, sad black eyes, who trails after her like a stray.

She stays away from Carlisle, trying to avoid the moment he declares her to be cast out, too far gone for them to redeem.

And she stays away from Jasper, because it hurts too much. She doesn't tell Jasper what she knows, what they were meant to be to one another. The past is gone, and she has been broken into too many pieces. He watches her like a hawk, and without words, she knows he will be the one to destroy her if she steps out of line. His hands will crack her limbs apart and he will not flinch or feel any loss.

She wonders if she should tell him that if he was the to destroy her, she would not fight it. She would part in his hands like a paper doll, and hold no ill will to him for such an act.

Sometimes, she lets herself remember the old visions, the ones where they were everything to one another. Only when Edward's away, though; she doesn't like him rifling around in her head. No one deserves being forced to see some of those things.

And it hurts, a raw wound in her heart, that she was meant for something else, for happiness and peace and love, instead of what she was dealt in life. One of her greatest unanswered questions is why? What unforgivable thing did she do in her forgotten human past that earned such a punishment?

Then she remembers what she has done at James’ side for so many decades, at the faces and the screams and the suffering, and somehow she lived her crimes and her penance at the same time.

So she continues to pretend she doesn’t notice that Edward keeps Bella away from the house; that Emmett or Jasper hover in the background as she trails after Esme, as she watches Rose. That she can only go hunting when Jasper and Emmett can go along too; the ones strong enough and fast enough to restrain her.

When Edward does bring Bella back to the house at Esme’s insistence, she sits on the opposite side of the room, and listens to the conversation, keeping still and silent.

When Carlisle arrives home from work, she focuses on the magazine or book she has found, pretending to be absorbed by the glossy pictures, still and silent, to not notice as he studies her with patience she isn’t sure is genuine.

When Jasper joins Emmett for something noisy and angry on the television, their gazes occasionally sliding towards her, she is frozen in place, her gaze out the window.

She’s played this game before. Be good and quiet and still. The blow will come, eventually, but at least she can prepare herself for it, brace herself for the inevitable fall. They don’t trust her.

She doesn’t trust her, either.

Six.

They settle into a sort of routine.

She’s allowed to hunt with Esme and Rosalie now, though she’s careful to keep her distance, to trek a little further into the forest, to reassure them. She usually waits until they call her back.

She is always carefully supervised during their hunts, and finally, finally, the cracks James left across her nose and cheeks have finally faded away. They hunt too often for her, and when she forces herself to finish the animal, she vomits everywhere. She says nothing, but she feels safer a little hungry, her eyes black rather than a strange gold-orange.

Edward lets her sit beside him when he plays the piano, tells her about each of the pieces of music. He tries to teach her once, attempts to guide her hands into position, but she panics and jerks away, and he doesn’t offer again.

Emmett is nice to her. He seems to understand not to come up behind her without warning, not to touch. Sometimes she perches on the end of the couch and watches the television with him. She doesn’t stay very long, but he always gives her a big smile when she leaves, as if he’s had a wonderful time.

She doesn’t understand Emmett, but she thinks she could like him.

Rosalie can’t seem to decide whom she dislikes more – her or Bella - and she’s sure that Rose is going to get whiplash from changing her mind about both of them so many times. But Rose addresses her and is reasonably civil, mostly out of some kind of misguided caution that she is some kind of threat, and that is some kind of progress.

She and Bella have few words to say to each other. ‘Sorry I helped someone attempt to torture and exsanguinate you’ isn’t something she can work out how to say out-loud and have it sound genuine. Mostly because the truth is closer to, ‘I’m sorry you found yourself in this situation, but I don’t regret my choices. The consequences for me would have been much, much worse than you can ever comprehend. Your fragile mortality would have spared you of the worst of it. I’d make the same decision one hundred times in a row without a second thought.’

She’s certain that would upset everyone.

Bella seems rather reluctant to spent time in her presence, and she does wonder if that’s because she’s the side of the coin that isn’t beauty-wealth-love. She’s the side of suffering, of pain and of misery, murder and regret. Bella wants perfection, wants the glamour and magic of the Cullens, and none of the honest truth of being a vampire.

But it’s probably the murder attempt.

Then there are things that haven’t changed since she arrived. She’s not allowed to be alone, or to leave the house aside from hunting – even then, she has to be accompanied.

But every single day, James is still gone and she is still here. And there will never be a time when that knowledge is not sweet.

//

Her wardrobe is limited - a few old t shirts that once belonged to Esme and are too big, her worn jeans and the filthy, stained cardigan that she had when they found her. Her thin knees have long since torn through her pants, and the cardigan's sleeves are frayed and holey, but she is clean and free.

And then she is deemed in control enough to go shopping. Esme approaches her with the idea, with glossy magazines and gentle suggestions. It is an idea that has even intrigues Rosalie enough for her to join them.

They clearly still think she is a risk, though, because it is a family outing, with looks of such boredom and long-suffering on the faces of the male Cullens when it is decided, that she laughs softly behind her hand.

The building they take her to is huge and full of people. It is like a blow to the face, of blood and scent, and she visibly recoils from it at first, unsure and on edge. And they are patient, escorting her in, with encouraging words.

Eventually, though, they show her the clothes and the sight of the racks is enough to distract her from the heady scent. It is overwhelming, the colours and fabrics and styles, and she simply stares, with Emmett laughing at her stunned expression.

Esme is so kind, guiding her gently through the racks, telling her to choose anything she likes. She is careful, though, picking new jeans, a new cardigan, soft and clean and sunshine yellow. Esme helps her pick shoes out - the first pair she's had in decades. Soft brown winter boots, black sneakers, gold and black flats that make her feel like a princess. At her childlike delight with her fancy shoes, Esme buys her a black sundress with ties at the back and bows on the straps, that will bare her arms and triangles of flesh on her back.

Underwear is a strange concept. It's nothing that she has ever bothered with before. She is useless in the wake of so many choices, and let's Esme and Rosalie choose what she needs, dress her like a doll, whilst she amuses herself with how clearly uncomfortable both Jasper and Edward are in such a department.

She almost feels pretty – even desirable - in the plain cotton that make her skinny frame look almost womanly. She’s too embarrassed to even try on the satin and lace sets Rosalie has chosen. They aren’t for girls like her – girls that wear those things are more than she will ever be – prettier, sweeter, bolder. They are too much, and when she refuses, she doesn’t understand the look Rosalie and Esme exchange, Rosalie looking sly and Esme with an expression of warning.

Afterwards, they look for other things. The books hold little interest for her, as do the endless electronics. She doesn’t mean to wander off, but a demonstration by the art supplies store catches her eye, and she stands a little away from the crowd, watching the man draw. It is Esme and Jasper who find her, both looking alarmed, but she pretends she doesn’t see them, her gaze focused on the pencil that so carefully makes its way across the page.

“Alice,” Esme is at her side. “You scared us.” Her smile is bright, but her eyes worried – what would the Cullens do if she attacked in a place like this, with so many eyes? She doesn’t get to ponder that thought much longer, as Jasper’s hand closes over her shoulder and she is guided away.

For the rest of the afternoon, Jasper is her ominous shadow, as she dutifully trails after them.

She doesn't have her own room, but she doesn’t truly need one. Until now, she hasn’t had any possessions to store, and she doesn’t require the privacy a mated couple does. But, she has found she likes the attic. Full of things that need repairs or to be stored, it is a mad tea party of furniture and items.

There’s an old grey chair is missing a leg, and has an ugly stain that not even Esme could draw out that she likes. She folds herself into it, and she feels safe in that little corner, with the narrow window that overlooks the forest and spills in afternoon light. There's an old dresser up there, too, so that's where she arranges her new things, carefully folding and smoothing them into each drawer, precisely and lovingly.

Rosalie brings her some cosmetics and half a glass bottle of perfume – the bottle is shaped like an egg and etched with tiny flowers and curlicues and it is so delicate and beautiful, she is frightened to hold it. Rosalie watches as she sprays the scent into the air, the delighted look at the scent of flowers. She is nervous at Rosalie’s gesture, but grateful. Grateful enough that she allows Rosalie to cut the matted ends of her hair off into a neat, shorter style.

It makes her look more delicate, younger, maybe sweeter, she thinks as she strokes the strands in the mirror. And less like a roving maniac, at least according to the shiny-haired Rosalie, who watches her with satisfaction in her eyes.

She should be offended, but there’s this tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, Rosalie is turning her into something new. Something good and better.

Something like a sister.

//

It’s Esme’s idea to invite Bella around the evening of her birthday. Just a family gathering, with a few simple gifts. Everyone sort of agrees, and try to work out what to give the sullen girl.

She manages a portrait of Bella and Edward seated together at the piano that Esme gushes over, and has framed.

There have been some hints, from Carlisle and Edward that she will have to attend school eventually. She doesn’t understand that, but is just waiting for them all to graduate. They’ll leave when they’ve graduated and she won’t have to worry about school again.

She arranges peonies on the piano for Bella, upon Esme’s request, and is reminded of her old, fragmented vision of blood and glass. But nothing comes to her; the future is clear and her mind has decided to play tricks on her again.

Or perhaps her mind is the best part of her, the gentle warning she ignored becoming obvious as soon as Bella’s finger slips against the wrapping paper. Jasper’s eyes blacken as soon as Bella’s flesh parts and the blood beads, and suddenly he is lunging. She sees it in an instant, Bella’s crumpled body in his grip and Edward’s howls and the house of the Cullens irreversibly fallen. She sees an endless parade of James’ victims, broken and dead in Bella’s blank eyes.

She sees the horror and the guilt in Jasper’s eyes, sees the vastness of Mexico and the rise of a monster born of regret and impulse.

It is over before he even moves, decision made, and she has to stop this.

The shriek startles them all, coming from her mouth as she darts in front of him.

In another life, the flavour of her desperation and fear would be enough for him to pause, to grasp wildly at his resistance. Instead, he throws her aside, her body crashing through the front windows in a rain of wood and glass, leaving an imprint of her body in the flowerbed outside.

She picks herself up out of the flower bed as Emmett and Rosalie drag Jasper bodily from the house, Esme close behind them. Their eyes are all pitch black; a harmless paper cut did not cause this reaction.

“She cut open her arm,” is Emmett’s grim explanation as Jasper’s struggles slow, his eyes firmly on the door of the house.

“It was an accident,” Esme adds, shame in every line of her stance.

“Alice seemed to know,” Rosalie murmurs, her eyes still on Jasper.

She will never understand Rosalie, why she always needs to assign blame, to identify the victim and the antagonist. She ignores the statement, even as they all swing to look at her, as she examines her shoulder. Jasper didn’t hit her hard enough for cracks to form, but it doesn’t look like it’s properly aligned.

When she does look up again, she can see it in all their eyes – did she let this happen on purpose? Does she hold some ugly vendetta against poor, sweet Bella?

She did help James …

She’s surprised – she thought it would be Edward that came after her, later, to criticise and punish her for the limitations on her faulty gift. He still might – he hasn’t decided properly, too focused on patching up Bella.

But it’s Jasper, wrenching out of Rosalie and Emmett’s grasp, with murder in his eyes and the target on her.

He doesn’t yell, but his words are poisonous, nasty and accusing. She flinches, Esme gasps and even Emmett tries to get him to stop. Some of them, she knows, aren’t meant for her. They are frustration, humiliation and disappointment directed at himself, at his own weakness.

But when she instinctively backs away, and he grabs her wrist, and she lets out a tiny cry of fear; it is Rosalie who comes to her rescue, who snarls and yells and pries his iron grip from her.

“I don’t care how pissed you are, you don’t touch her like that.”

The words seem to echo, and Carlisle, Edward and Bella are watching from the front door.

Her apology is stammered, weak in the sudden silence, her insistence that she didn’t know sounding bewildered and feeble as she darts away, into the forest to pick glass and wood out of her hair and wonder just how many other warnings she’s missed.

//

[gloves94]

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 7

Warnings: None   Rating: PG-13   Pairings: Zuko/OC   Summary:  “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…”  His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

Feeling smug about the events at the abbey and riding that beast around the land Tsai decided to go for a walk to clear her head.

Should she have done more to capture the Avatar?

It would've been wrong to steal Zuko's glory. After all he had made capturing the Avatar his life's mission and who was she to try and take that away from him? And then he always said that she only got in the way. This thought irked her to no end. 'If only he knew,' a cocky smirk made way to her face.

xxx

'Again!' Her grandfather had once said to her.

'But grandpa! I'm so tired. We've been practicing all day the nine year old dropped to her knees exhausted. 'Mecha doesn't even have train half as much as I do with his fire bending.'

He looked at her with hard brown eyes.

'Mecha can afford to be weak. He has the gift of fire bending and I'm afraid you don't.' She lowered her light brown eyes sadly. 'You're always going to work twice as hard for everything that you want Tsai. Both as a woman and as a non-bender.' He explained.

He took in a deep breath before the older man took a fighting stance. The man was about to bark again but instead changed his mind. 'Come with me,' he had said turning away calmly instructing his grand daughter to follow. 'I want to give you something.'

xxx

The girl toyed with the choker sunstone necklace around her neck. He had given it to her that day and she had seldom taken it off. Her grandfather had said it had once belonged to her grandmother. An elegant lady from the Fire Nation whom Tsai had never met since she passed the day in which she was born. Her grandfather rarely spoke about her, she always assumed the memory was too painful for the man. However, in family portraits and paintings she had seen that they both shared the indistinguishably blazing red hair.

Zuko had been terribly rude to her the day before so he deserved to suffer out his paralysis for a little while longer. She did not want to be around by the time that June awoke and face her wrath and she had the feeling that Iroh was in a heavenly bliss with the beautiful woman laying on him. And so she traveled the local market and took her sweet time buying rare herbs, tea and even some local perfumes and lotions as souvenirs for her family.

She took her sweet time, even pulling her wrist to her nose every once in a while to enjoy the scent of her new perfume. However, as she attempted to steer her thoughts clear she kept on flashbacking to the Avatar's expression as their eyes met across the abbey. She still hadn't figured how to interpret that. The Avatar, he was a symbol for equality. Maybe just maybe he would be able to help her bring some peace to her nation... Would she be considered an aid to him? Letting him go like that? She would've become a blood traitor to not only her family but to her nation. The daughter of the Vice-Royal Governor a traitor to her own people- she shook her head not even wanting to think of the royal chaos that would be.

She still debated if she had done the right or wrong decision in not fighting the Airbender. There was something about it that bothered her to no end.

The sun was setting by the time that Tsai arrived on the ship. She arrived just in time to see the soldiers stepping out.

"We're going to the local market for some supplies," explained the cook. "While the mechanics check the ship engine and make sure everything is well functioning." Not giving it much mind the girl nodded and walked in. "Also-" Added the lieutenant. "This arrived for you," he said handing her a scroll that arrived with one of the ship's fire hawks.

It had to be from Mecha! She grinned broadly and leaned against the one of the ship's walls cooly as she unwrapped the scroll snacking on some mixed nuts she had gotten at the market.

Her heart stopped and a nut went the wrong way when she read the words that her brother had writte. She beat her chest in an effort to lodge it out of place and gasped at the attached paper he sent.

It was a WANTED - REWARD poster with her face plastered on it. The charges were the following: obstruction of justice, breaking in entering restricted military premises and being an accomplice and aiding of enemies of the Fire Nation. Under the information was a very well descript drawing of her. Names: Unknown, alias "Haru".

'Tsai,

Tell me why my sister 's face is on a wanted poster and goes by the alias of "Haru?"

This is either the coolest of the dumbest thing you have ever done. (Know that I am having it framed and hanged in my room). I have been hiding the posters from mom and dad and the rest of You Dao but it won't be long before somebody realizes that it is you and identifies you. I'm afraid you can't get very far with that bloody hair color of yours my dearest sister.

A traitor to the nation huh? Just what are you doing in that boat with the banished prince and his uncle? I have been taking care of all of your governing duties, so do not worry about that. Baku, Moss and Ana send their helloes. It's been nice getting to know some of your friends.

(Mother keeps asking if we should plan a Royal wedding- ignore that. (She insisted that I wrote that.) I had to remind her that you are ONLY just sixteen.)'

She rapidly flipped the page of the scroll and read his inked words in the back.

'And in regards of the Avatar.' He began. 'I wish I could just ship the library to you. But after extensive research I'm afraid I didn't find much. I mean why would there be any texts about the Avatar in the Fire Nation colonies to begin with?

However, here is what I can tell you. Air benders are particularly skilled in defensive techniques. They were known to be peaceful people, have mainly vegetarian diets, their leadership was guided by monks- they are known to be fast and easy on their feet. One hasn't been seen in more than a hundred years. Also apparently they were famous for their custard pies.

In regards of the Avatar- His last life was Avatar Roku born in the Fire Nation, the next will be born a water bender. You see the Avatar follows a cycle. Fire, Air, Water and Earth. It follows this cycle over and over again and must master the elements in that order. In this case it's going to be Air, Water, Earth and Fire. Get what I mean?

I hope I was of help. I miss you Tsai. Please be safe. Do not make me worry. I don't know how much dad can do to pardon you if you get into too much trouble.

Be safe, please.

If you're getting in trouble... I hope it's worth it.

- Mecha'

The nuts slipped off her hand and spilled all over the floor. She ran inside of the Captain cabin on the deck's floor where she knew that all of the maps and Avatar information was being kept. She pointed a finger at it and lightly traced the map with her finger. It seemed as if Zuko had been following the Avatar's trail all the way from the Southern Water Tribe up north. He had been traveling north for some months now and simply seemed to be climbing higher and higher in the map. It was then that the realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

"He's going to the Northern Water Tribe," she breathed her finger landed on the icy north pole. It made sense. The Avatar had already mastered air, he had to master water now if he wanted to advance to the next element.

"He's going to the water tribe," she repeated again almost in disbelief. She had figured it out. Her grip tightened around the letter her brother had sent. Dropping the goods she had bought she sprinted outside and tore the letter into the ocean. She leaned over the rail her eyes following the bits and pieces of paper that drifted down to the black waters and vanished into the darkness of the sea.

She had to get out of here. And fast. Before Admiral Zhao's men came to lock her up and collect their reward. She felt that Zuko wouldn't hesitate in fingering her over to the Fire Nation authorities. He'd be more than glad to have her of his ship! What if they got in trouble? What if her family got in trouble?

She had done a grave mistake. Feeling her anxiety churning in her stomach she quickly turned around ready to gather her belongings and leave but suddenly stopped in her way. Prince Zuko was standing a few feet away on the ship's deck and he did not look happy. He wore his hair up, his eyes appeared to glow with the sun which was setting behind them. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't only unhappy, he was fuming, absolutely and completely livid.

"You!" He snarled out. He stomped towards her. "You had him in front of you and you let him go!" He put his hands on her and shoved her in a provocative matter. "What are you talking about?" She scoffed back pushing his hands of her person. "The Avatar!" The other roared. "He spoke to you! You had him in front of you and you let him go!" He raged.

In Zuko's eyes this was the greatest betrayal. She had had the opportunity to capture his honor. To help him. To for once to help him reach his ultimate goal and she didn't. Instead she stood there and conversed with the enemy. She was a snake. A beautiful venomous red snake that would slowly consume him.

"How could you do this to me?!" His voice cracked and he shuffled uncomfortably at the crack of his emotions.

"How could I do this?" She raised an eyebrow confused. "What did you want me to do? Knock him out with my bare hands?," She once again scoffed at his ridiculous suggestion with heavy sarcasm. "I guess I just didn't want to "Get in your way,"" She said nastily before brushing past him brushing past his shoulder as she passed him.

She didn't see it. The rage and anger that was boiling inside of him like a volcano ready to explore.

"Agni Kai! You and Me. Now!" He demanded, his voice hard and void of emotion. She looked over her shoulder and huffed before shaking her head.

"You can't do that," she turned once again granting him her full attention. Her eyes momentarily drifted to the dock. Just where was Iroh? Or anybody else? SOMEBODY that could intervene.

"Now!" He roared once again.

"You're insane," she said eyes blowing wide with a blend of shock and fear. "You've gone mad. I'm not like my brother. I can't bend fire."

It was then that he walked towards the nearby wall and grabbed a broom that was leaning against the wall. With one swift movement he split it into two breaking it over his knee.

"Who said anything about fire?" He said raising up he a half of the broom in one hand and aggressively thrusting it in her direction. She shifted her body dodging it and looked at him perplexed before he threw the other half at her, the half with the hay sticks at the end that was functional for sweeping. She barely caught it and held it awkwardly between her hands.

She was beginning to regret ever coming abroad this ship. This was a huge mistake. Coming on this trip. It was then that he charged towards her, and now Zuko was going to make a roasted kabob out of her.

"I am not going to fight you!" She protested as she dodged his swift attacks. She blocked another with her makeshift broom sword. "Zuko stop!" She pleaded.

He attacked again. "Good reflexes, "he complimented the slightest grin on his face.

"I'm trying my best," she struggled but failed to hide the odd smirk that was also growing on her features.

It was finally that with a handful of clever hits and swats he whipped the wooden sword out of her hands. Her back was pressed against the deck's railing she was cornered and heaving. Sweat slid down her temple from the strain of fighting him. He presently had the wooden stick directly pointed at her throat.

It was almost night now. With the sun glowing an orange light and the clouds turning shades of pink, lavender and dark purple.

"I said, I wasn't going to fight, and there's no honor in winning a one sided battle." She appeared distraught as she looked down at the pointy end of his 'weapon'. He wanted to push her to the edge. He wanted to see that darkness he knew she was hiding beneath the layers of poise and properness that she carried herself with. He wanted to know who was that vicious person he found skulking around the Pohuai Stronghold. He had to know what she was hiding - all of her vile secrets.

"Ever since you arrived on my ship you have been nothing but a pest! You are irritating! You distract my Uncle and I can't stand you." He took a deep breath. "What do you want?" He demanded inching the stick dramatically. She remained silent, only looking at him with horrified eyes. "What do you want? Why are you really here?" He shouted his voice getting rougher and louder with each sentence He tossed the broom stick to the side and his hands pried themselves to her upper arms as he held her in place. "Why are you-"

This. It was just like that other night. She knew that Zuko had many inner and outer demons to fight, but would he actually hurt her? She wanted to slap herself for letting out a vulnerable whimper as his voice became more stern. He saw her eyes become large as they welled with tears. "Why are you-" His voice was softer now, almost a whisper. The strong grip on her arms became more gentle.

Zuko hated this part of himself. The instinctual one that reminded him of his father. The one that made his blood go and his temper fly in an uncontrollable rage which had been feed by years of mental and physical abuse. For a split second he saw himself in her eyes. And then it happened- He saw the shift in her poise as her eyes darkened with ill intent. Her hand jolted forward fisting the neckline of his armor just like she had done that fateful night of the Blue Spirit. She pulled him close, so close to her that she could see drops of honey being reflected in her eyes.

"Listen," she managed to utter in a menacing tone. He silenced her threat by kissing her.

Tsai felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on her. Her grip on his armor weakened, she attempted to inch back but was caught between the railing and his body. His kiss was soft, gentle, almost shy. She had not expected it to be like this. She wasn't expecting to feel a full body chill and a fire stir in the core of her stomach. It took her a full moment to react and with a hand flat against his chest she pushed him back, keeping him at arms length. Her eyes wide, her expression unreadable.

He turned away before she could speak. What had he done? What had she done?

"Zuko!" She reached for his arm and held it. "Wait!" She held him back. He pulled his arm back and glared at her. His eyes filled with hurt and rejection. For a moment she had forgotten all about the anger, about the fight, about their agni kai and honor. The wanted poster and her plan to run away.

"I'm....confused," she admitted.

His expression remained stoic, lips drawn into a thin line as he remained silent. "You always remind me how you want me off your ship. You repeatedly address me as a pest. I thought you hated me- and now you- you kiss me?"

"Why don't you make your rejection less painful and just tell me it's never going to happen?" He snapped.

He was presently beating himself up for what he had just done. Unsure of his uncontrollable emotions. He regretted it so much. There was no way that a girl like Tsai would ever be interested in somebody like him. Specially somebody as hideous and temperamental. A banished prince with an obvious facial deformity. A beast. It was impossible.

"It.. It's not that," she admitted shyly. Her face glowing with a tint of a red blush.

He could not believe it. He felt her hand reach for his and hold it. He marveled at how perfectly it fit against it. Her fingers tucked in between his. He held it tightly, proudly. Not knowing when he would miss the absence of her heat.

"I've seen good in you Zuko. I've seen compassion, I've seen empathy," she stepped closer. "I know there's goodness in you and it's not only because of your many redeemable qualities," she spoke tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She gave a step closer to him.

"But you are also troubled, you're obsessive, and very rude towards your loving uncle, towards me, and let's not forget my family, which is something I cannot forgive." She leaned in close and he flinched slightly when she gently placed her hand on his cheek, leaned in and kissed his scarred face lightly. He felt as if he had been brushed with a rose's petal.

"What you're saying is, you can't be with me until I've regained my honor." he gave a step back.

"No," she sighed feeling a growing frustration. This is exactly what she was talking about. It was always about honor and the Avatar and redemption with him.

"I can't be with you until you are a changed man," a light breeze blew by and she let go of his hand. He clenched it empty, being more than aware of the coldness of it. "You need to fight your inner demons and- that's only something you can do. I will only get in the way."

"Goodnight Prince Zuko," she whispered before leaving.

xxx

AN: D-D-Damnnnnnn Finally we are getting some fiyahhhhhh burning up in here! I just wanted to say that I do not support abusive relationships and let's be real Zuko is a total prick in Book 1. Also I wouldn't let Tsai be with him with (not with that attitude at least (and don't even get me started on that haircut (the ponytail? Really?))) all the growth and development he still has to go. This idea seemed a little unrealistic to me. Both still have a long way to go!

Thoughts? I'd love to hear what you think!

xxxx

FIRST https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621142853126602752/sunburn-prince-zuko-1

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621256367939993600/sunburn-prince-zuko-8

PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621233046237184000/sunburn-prince-zuko-6

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

[shigarakis-fifth-hand]

Class of 1-A Imagine

The entire 1-A class got hit by a quirk swapping villain! It’s all randomized and I spent a bunch of time on this! Please draw what they would look like and dm me!

Lida

 - He was lucky enough to get Denki’s quirk

 - Didn't even notice for a few seconds

 - Only realized when he couldn’t run anymore

 - His engines were simply gone ~ POOF!

 - It was only when he looked at his hair and saw bright yellow

 - Immediately runs away as fast as his weak, human legs can take him

 - When they tell him what happens, he forces Kaminari to tell him how to use it

 - “I don’t know, you just... do the thing.”

 - “Well what thing because on page four of using your quirk, it says that...”

 - When Iida gets the hang of it, he doesn’t like to use it

 - He’s terrified of hurting someone, and since he isn’t experienced, he doesn’t want to go brain-dead either

Asui

 - She got Deku’s quirk

 - She doesn’t like how big her arms get

 - All Might immediately helps her since he doesn’t want her to break any bones

 - She doesn’t fully grasp the concept and chooses not to use the quirk

 - She’s seen how bad Deku can get

 - She is overjoyed at something else though

 - “My tongue Mina! Look at my tongue!”

 - Everyone finds out Asui has a beautiful singing voice

 - She’s almost sad to get her own quirk back

 - But it’s okay

 - She can’t hurt herself with her own quirk ~ribbit

 Aoyama

 - He was able to get Sero’s quirk

 - “Well you didn’t hear this from me but it’s truly unfashionable.”

 - “Look at me, the human tape dispenser of 1-A.”

 - “Ugh, I can’t even wear my fur jacket because my elbows are too thick.”

 - “Sero, how do you wear long sleeves with this thing?!”

 - Aoyama doesn’t want to use the quirk, it’s just not “flowing with his vibe”

 - He wears his fancy jackets for the entire month after the quirk wears off

( a picture of Bakugo trying to help Kirishima learn about molecules ^^^^)

Kirishima

 - He got Momo’s quirk

 - At first he’s sad, his unmanly quirk is gone for an entire week!

 - But then he realizes that he can walk around shirtless for an entire week

 - “It’s for my quirk!”

 - He likes being able to make food in an instant, he just doesn’t like it when Aizawa insists that he know the basic molecules of certain things

 - “When am I going to use this? I will never have to make an umbrella in my life!”

 - He likes to stick to food, especially liking that he can make any meal better than Bakugo

 - “Dude! I could solve world hunger from my abs!”

 - “Woah, imagine if I could make a car from my abs.”

 - “Can I make wings like Hawks?!

 - When the week ends, Kirishima is kinda disappointed 

 - But Bakugo is happy he got his cooking buddy back

Koda

 - He got Uraraka’s quirk

 - He’s super excited honestly, he likes being able to fly

 - “I feel like a feather.”

 - Ochako is happy to be able to teach him how

 - “Let’s just stay indoors. We don’t need you floating off to space.”

 - Koda almost wants to go to space

 - Once he learns how to use it, he uses all his time zooming around the dorms

 - Once Aizawa takes them outside to train, he just floats around in the air

 - Aizawa lets him

 - He knows this precious baby needs some relaxation with the clouds

 - He also likes the birds

 - He can’t speak to them though, which is frustrating for him

 - “How do you not remember me? I fed you dinner last night!”

Ojiro

 - He got Tokoyami’s quirk

 - One second his tail was there, the next second it was a mean looking bird

 - Ojiro likes taking his bird on walks, he doesn’t really know what to do with it

 - He talks to the bird sometimes, and for some reason he can understand it

 - “Dark Shadow seems too emo. Let’s try Gregory.”

 - The bird agrees 100%

 - When Ojiro is training, Gregory is too powerful sometimes

 - “How do you control your own shadow?!”

 - Training sessions with Aizawa is just one big mess for Ojiro

 - Nothing gets accomplished accept Ojiro talking to Thompson and Thompson trying to attack anyone who gets close

 - Ojiro is so excited to get his tail back, but it sad that Tokoyami won’t take the same request

 - rip Gregory

( Sato’s reaction to getting Mineta’s quirk^^ )

Sato

 - Sato has Mineta’s quirk

 - Sato doesn’t come out of his room for the entire week

 - Everyone understands

Hagakure

 - She got Sato’s quirk

 - She makes a bunch of sweets as an excuse to eat all of it

 - But that’s not a big deal at all to her

 - She’s not invisible anymore!

 - The moment she realizes that she isn’t invisible, she goes crazy

 - She’s actually kind of tan

 - Not only that but she’s gorgeous!

 - Thick brown hair, green eyes, and she’s so skinny

 - Her face alone has everyone in 1-A dropping dead

 - Some of the guys can’t believe it

 - They’ve chatted with this girl for months and had no idea

 - She wants to ask Ojiro on a date, but what happens when the quirk wears off

 - It does wear off, but nobody cares

 - They always knew she was pretty, and this just confirmed it for sure

Shoji

 - He got Hagakure’s quirk

 - What’s not to love about being invisible?

 - The strange part to him is that he can still see himself

 - All of his extra arms are gone!

 - That’s sad, all of his shirts were custom for those arms

 - He borrows clothes from his friends

 - It’s funny to see a robe and bunny slippers walking around at midnight though

Deku

 - He got Todoroki’s quirk

 - It’s okay though! He’s got his creepy notebook!

 - Todoroki gladly give him teaching on how to use it

 - “Remember, flames do damage and ice can be used to capture things.”

 - Deku knows all of this from his “research”

 - But that doesn’t stop them from spending everyday training together

 - It’s fun... and “helpful”

 - Deku loves being his own microwave and freezer

 - He accidently catches things on fire from time to time

 - He got scared by a movie and froze half the couch

 - Todoroki kissed him and he burned half his shirt off

 - “How do you control this thing?!”

Ururaka

��- She got Mina’s quirk

 - “Yay! I got acid hands! I got acid hands!”

 - Mina makes her wear oven mitts

 - She accidently burns a hole through her bed while having nightmares

 - “High five! Wait... never mind.”

 - “Mina, teach me how to do the thing!”

 - Also let’s not forget that Ochako has pink skin, horns, and alien eyes

 - “Ooh, I look so cute!”

 - Ochako spends most of her time posing in front of the mirror

 - “Look at my horns Kirishima!”

 - “Mina, look at my eyes!”

Denki

 - He got Iida’s quirk

 - Whenever he runs, he ends up going sonic on people

 - “Denki, take a lap!”

 - “I don't think you want that Mr. Aizawa.”

 - Whenever Denki tries to use Iida’s quirk, it’s always a quick fail

 - So far Denki has taken out a trash can, Present Mic, tripped on a basketball, run into a tree, faceplant into dirt, and accidently swallow a bug

 - The worst part is that Denki sleep walks

 - Running into stuff, tripping over a potted plant, falling down a flight of stairs

 - “This is better than being brain dead I guess.”

 - Denki spends most of his time making fun of Iida by waving his arms like a robot and trying on multiple pairs of glasses at once

 - Iida demands that Kaminari trains

 - “Kaminari, you will read all of these books on how to operate engine legs or else!”

 - Kaminari must admit the engine legs are cool

 - Except when Kirishima put hot dogs in them

 - The entire class room smelled like burnt meat

Jiro

 - “Cool! I look like a frog!”

 - She got Asui’s quirk

 - Her hair turned green, her tongue grew, and her pupils dialated

 - “Asui, look at this!”

 - She uses her tongue to swing off the dusty chandelier when Iida isn’t looking

 - “Ew! They should make tongue condoms!”

 - Jiro and Ochako have a blast teasing Mina and Asui

 - “Ribbit bitch! Your frog queen has arrived!”

 - Denki gets Jiro a crown to wear around the dorms

 - Ochako buys the four girls frog onesies

 - “So kawaii!”

 - Jiro never was into swimming until now

 - She likes that her fingers don’t get wrinkly

Sero

 - He got Ojiro’s quirk

 - “Dude, look at my tail!”

 - Bakugo makes fun of his “backwards dick”

 - It’s funny, but not that funny

 - In return Sero whips him with it

 - “I feel like a monkey!”

 - Sero hangs from everything he can

 - “This thing has more muscles than I do!”

 - He goes to a playground nearby with Denki and swings off the monkey bars

Tokayami

 - He got Koda’s quirk

 - “I’ve never been much about nature. Too much light, not enough darkness.”

 - Bakugo jokes that he can finally talk to his pigeon brothers

 - “Dude! The birds love you!”

 - And everyone is right

 - As soon as Tokoyami walks outside, a pigeon lands on his head

 - “Why did that pigeon just speak to me?!”

 - Tokoyami is scared of the outside now

 - “I can hear their voices still!”

 - Tokoyami has a panic attack over being able to hear the animal voices

 - “Why do ants sound so manly?”

Todoroki

 - He got Bakugo’s quirk

 - “I’m not asking that bastard for help.”

 - Instead, he goes to Deku for training

 - “Deku, you have that stalker notebook still?”

 - Bakugo’s quirk is like his own quirk

 - “Seriosuly? Just heat?”

 - “Kind of basic if you ask me.”

 - Once Bakugo hears that, he goes beserk

 - “Icyhot!”

 - “Oh no no, you can’t call me that anymore.”

 - Todoroki likes propelling himself in the air with explosions

 - Bakugo’s quirk is too loud, like his personality

 - He doesn’t like using the quirk honestly

 - “It's not very good, very violent, and I don’t like getting sweaty.”

Bakugo

 - He got Kirishima’s quirk

 - “Yea bro, you can get hard too now!”

 - Mina tries to stop him from saying that

 - Poor bby doesn't understand

 - Kirishima tries to help, but Bakugo is having no part in that

 - “How difficult can your quirk be Shitty Hair?”

 - It isn’t easy though, especially when Bakugo is forced to be shirtless.

 - He’s used to his hero outfit covering his chest

 - Bby is a little self conscious

 - The best part is that he doesn’t sweat that much

 - “Fuck yea! I don’t smell like fucking cinnamon and caramel!”

 - Bakugo does miss his explosions and hand grenades

 - Your quirk is too boring Kirishima, and it’s not loud at all

Momo

 - She got Aoyama’s quirk

 - Her immediate reaction is to read a bunch

 - “Aoyama! Wait up, I have so many questions!”

 - Next though, she has fun with it

 - “It’s so pretty!”

 - Along the way her and Aoyama become friends

 - He brings her pain releivers to help with the stomach pains

 - “It sucks but at least it’s pretty.”

Mina

 - She got Jiro’s quirk!

 - Immediately her skin isn’t pink, her horns are gone, and her eyes turn bright blue

 - She’s still as spunky as ever though

 - “Dude! Imagine all the hot gossip I can listen to!”

 - Mina tries the teacher’s lounge with Asui and Ochako, only to hear Aizawa and Present Mic planning a date night

 - “We should totally go as well!” Mina offers

 - They go on all sorts of “spy missions”

 - Mina also likes being able to tan with Momo from time to time

 - She does miss her horns though

 - She realizes quickly that Jiro’s earphone jacks are also Bluetooth

 - Jiro just never told anyone before

 - When Mina gets her quirk back, she is so happy to look “normal” again

Omg this took all day! Please comment down below your favorite combo and if I should do another one! Love you all! Stay safe! <3333

[autumn-foxfire]

Okay so I'm gon'na try and explain what I think villain stans are trying to say but are sort of failing at. The problem people have with how Hori wrote the LoV (and really only the Lov, cuz villain stans generally don't care about any other villains) is that alot of their characters and writing flaws into harmful stereotypes/tropes that can enforce harmful things. Like it Hawks wasn't ablest because he killed Jin. Jin was himself an ablest character. having the only canon mentality ill (1)

character as a violent villain who needed to be killed off for the public's safety, reinforces that mentally ill people are more dangerous then others, and totally goes against the reality that the mentally ill are far more likely to be abused and killed then the average person. The same goes for the Heroes. No they aren't police but they are defiantly performing very similar tasks as the police. Part of the problem people have with the Heroes is that they're not corrupt like cops in RL (2)

The fact they're shown as reasonable, good people just doing their best and that the violence they dish out is necessary plays into the trope of police/law enforcement having justified reasons to hurt/kill those that oppose them. By making all the villains who have some sort problem with the system killers with little regard for anyone, or with little plan past 'kill everyone' it furthers the idea that those that attack the system are either doing it for selfish reasons or so violent that (3)

what they have to say is undermined by that violence. I don't think it's unreasonable to bring up the sort of problematic tropes Horikoshi uses (and, yes this is a Japanese manga so of course it's going to be written differently but alot of those tropes started in American media so even if Hori doesn't know they are harmful it's fair to bring up where they come from) but I think alot of villain stans take the fact these are problematic tropes and decide weirdly act like the story both has (4)

these problems but totally endorse the characters like they're not written badly and get annoyed when people actually point out that story wise the Lov is wrong (which is what their problem is with the story--that the Lov are written as violent killers). I get that it's frustrating to see characters u see urself in be written as nothing more then killers and wish they had been written better, but by pretending that they aren't written that way in cannon, undercuts their point about them

being badly written in the first place. I also don't think it's fair to get angry at others who simply read the manga the way it was intended. Sure those are problematic elements but as long as people understand that, there's no reason to read what's on the page and say, yeah, Shigaraki is killer, or Hawks was right to kill Twice. In a way that type of reading just supports their idea more because it shows those tropes are working the way they were intended. Yet they're so focused on what they

they're so focused on the story they wanted that they forget to explain their problems with it in a understandable way, and a lot of times resort to just saying all Heroes are cops and should die, or acting like the story backs up their interpretations of said characters. In a way it seems they use it to feel morally superior to others then actually explain to them some of the problems the story has in a polite way, and admit other people have a point. Sorry this was so long.

Sorry for my late response! I haven’t been feeling the best lately T-T

Hmmm, I know that Horikoshi can use problematic stereotypes in his manga (such as how he draws trans people which has been brought up by others in the past) but call me stupid and/or naive but I just fail to see how Twice is an ableist character and that his portrayal says that all mentally ill people are dangerous and violent.

Not once was Twice labelled dangerous because of his mental illness from what I can recall, more so it’s just that he happened to be a dangerous man that was mentally ill. Maybe you can reach by saying that he was only considered a true threat after overcoming his trauma but surely that would then be the infantization of mentally ill people, not labelling them dangerous. There are issues with him being the only character to be portrayed with his type of mental illness but his illness was more to be a plot point then anything else (him being unable to use his quirk properly due to his past trauma) and he’s still not the only character to be mentally ill as we have Tamaki on the hero side. I have many issues with Twice and his portrayal of mental illness that I’ve expressed in the past but I just don’t see this being one of them.

As for the heroes using violence, I’m not sure why that’s such a massive complaint in a action shonen with heroes and villains. If people really wanted social commentary on why using force against criminals is bad, maybe they shouldn’t be reading BNHA that enforces that sometimes heroes have to resort to force because no other options to stop villains will work.

Also, the villains aren’t the only ones who have brought up issues with the system. We’ve had heroes question the discrimination against certain quirks (during Shinsou’s fight in the sports festival), we’ve had civilians question heroes and there ability to protect people (during the press conference after the training camp) and again we had Hawks draw attention to the issues in current system during his speech at the billboard charts. Just because the heroes and civilians aren’t as vocal about their complaints (or perhaps just like their trauma, they don’t make it central point of their character) doesn’t mean they’re completely complacent. It reminds me of that meme with the birds with the League being the bigger bird that talks over the smaller one, just because the League is louder doesn’t mean they’re the only ones talking about the issues.

Plus, I don’t see the issue of the League being written as killers. They’re the villains, they need to do something villainous in order to be so! Even if they bring valid points to the table, how they express them will always undermine them and that’s been a trope in manga/anime/books for years! We need to be able to relate to our villains as that’s how you know you have a good one (in my opinion). But that doesn’t mean they have to be excused for everything they’ve done. I just... I don’t know what people want from BNHA.

...Sorry my reply also got too long. Thank you for trying to explain this in a much clearer way then villain stans have in the past. I still don’t necessarily agree but I can at least try to understand their points.

[nidhoggssoultrap]

Headcanon Part 4

I am the storm sent to wake you from your dream.My "Headcanon" (Nidhogg, Louie, and Yvette. Mostly Nidhogg) Part 1 This one is a long one, so I'll be splitting it into parts. I don't thinkI AM THE STORM SENT TO WAKE YOU FROM YOUR DREAM.

Headcanons/Vingettes/snippets part 2Oh lordy...this is it. Love Nikki has the longest list of headcanons EVER...or well, that I’ve written. Jesus...never thought a dress-up gamI AM THE STORM SENT TO WAKE YOU FROM YOUR DREAM.

Headcanon Part 3Dress up game...one character...inspired all this...wow. But, I was able to dig up some old “flames” because of this, so it’s all good. PrevI AM THE STORM SENT TO WAKE YOU FROM YOUR DREAM.

And now, page 4. I don’t think this record will ever be surpassed by any other fandom. Geez..Also, spoilers for the CN Dawn Front event that happened around Sept 15th.

1. When it comes to the human trafficking for Grey Raven situation, there is plenty of blame to go around. I believe that because Regent 7 is found necessary, Grey Raven has a lot more leverage in the Night Order than he should. Both Reid and Nidhogg balked at the idea the way Johnny Lawrence did when his sensei told him to “Sweep the leg” in the Karate Kid. Both used arguments similar to what I used in the Discord along with Reid saying that he has plenty of money for clothes/designers to use as a means of breaking the Curse through Styling Contests. However, Grey Raven was successful at manipulating both of them to gather prisoners and use them for his experiments/more Shade people. “Are you not the King of Swords?” Grey Raven asked. Nidhogg makes it clear that he would only do this when Regent 7 no longer works and “not a moment before”. Guess what conveniently happened? So, Nidhogg gives the order to send prisoners to Grey Raven. The Blood Curse mutates to resist any drug to counteract it, but it’s still convenient for Grey Raven, who has ulterior motives.

He actually has the GALL to blame Louie for this. The Nameless Knights hold the key to breaking the Blood Curse so the kidnappings for Grey Raven could have been prevented if Louie would simply give up the Key/NOT destroy shipments of Regent 7. I predict that someone in the Night Order(most likely Nidhogg) will use the victims as leverage against Louie in order to obtain the Key.

2. Speaking of Louie, when he rescued someone from the “holding camps”/Grey Raven, he was beside himself with rage. You could have heard him on another planet and he was especially vocal when fingers were pointed at him.

3. Nidhogg has pursued Louie twice by car. First instance, Louie tells him “you’re not man enough for me and even if you were, I WON’T STICK MY DICK IN CRAZY” before speeding off. Second time was after Louie rescues a victim who “lived among fields of gold.” The second time is where Louie goes off on him and he has other people in a “three way call”/eavesdrop. He knows that people might think he is crazy, but since the trafficking has become widespread with many escapees/whistleblowers, he is certain that people won’t easily believe that “it’s all made up”.

4. Grey Raven loves teasing Nidhogg. His other hobbies include slamming fingers in car doors and setting his hair on fire. Anyway, he views Nidhogg’s conscience as a “taint” and tells him often that “I can change that. I can make it go away. Things would be much easier then.” Nidhogg constantly refuses saying that “I am strong enough to bear the burden.” However, he admits only to himself that he has been tempted to let Gray Raven take away all feeling/conscience, but knew that doing so would mean losing a lot more.

5. Confession Bear: Grey Raven is a riot and I ADORE him. I don’t quite ship him with Nidhogg, but I love the teasing and Grey Raven being very much aware of the leverage he has in the Order.

6. The reason why Nidhogg killed Lunar was because Grey Raven wanted her for experiments as a means of getting back at Louie for ruining his reputation. He intended to make sure that she suffered immensely before making her into a “better version of Shade.” Nidhogg made it clear “that is not going to happen.” Since Louie claimed the body, Grey Raven would be hard pressed to find it, much less take it for himself.

7. The Night Order is on the hunt for butterfly jewelry. So is Nikki. Louie has one of the butterfly items(his veil), but that wasn’t made by Sayet. Still, he’s not surprised that Night Order would want it.

8. Louie has a lot of white wigs and some of them make him look more beautiful than he already is. But, like Griffith, he has the “hawk eye” along with a hard edge when provoked. The difference is that Louie’s temperament is well, a bit more hot and he can be frightening to witness. He has an astonishing amount of clothes and a lot of that is due to Blue Bird packages sent by Lunar. He tried to “ghost her”, but found that he couldn’t. He often joked about changing the name of the Nameless Knights.

9. He has two lieutenants: a young woman and a young man. Both are considered “voices of reason” to Louie’s occasional outbursts.

10. The trafficking situation is where everything started to “slip away” for Nidhogg and finally decided to do what needed to be done to gain the “great power.”

11. There were multiple whistleblowers in the trafficking and not one of them were found out. It is, however, known that they were appalled at what was happening and blew the whistle as soon as they had the chance. Everyone has their limits.

12. Louie didn’t ultimately leave because of the “kiss”, but because he didn’t want to go to Lilith to help with Nidhogg’s plans and he was not about to defer to Nidhogg. At first, they argued about it with Louie being shut down. He appeared “deferential”, but on the day they were supposed to leave, Louie packed up his things and left to become a mercenary—something Nidhogg never approved of him doing.

Louie was the one who tore up the picture of him and Nidhogg and left a torn half on the bed. That’s what Nidhogg came home to and it devastated him as he felt very much betrayed(ironic considering what he later on did in Lilith/Yvette).

13. Louie hated the fact that Nidhogg seemed to conflate understanding with agreement and repeatedly called him on, especially at the final car chase. He went so far as to call Nidhogg, “A victim piece of shit!” and that he was understood “ALL TOO WELL!” That’s the CHARITABLE way to put it. Please keep in mind that the drama between these two men were in front of a young woman, three teenage girls(Bobo was actually with them. I made a booboo in one of the parts) and a talking cat.

14. While a lot of what Louie claimed about Nidhogg was largely true, it doesn’t change my headcanon “fact” that he had a distorted view of his adopted brother. According to Reid, Louie was “blinded by hate”. ALL of the Night Order viewed Louie as the greatest threat with Nikki at a very close second(really, it’s Nikki, but Louie has a louder personality, a stronger Dawnblade, and ties to Nidhogg). They found it baffling that Nidhogg was willing to kill Nikki, but not Louie. After all, Nidhogg is “The King of Swords”, right?

15. Liliana was supposed to be the “alternative bunny” if Yvette didn’t work out. He wanted to take Liliana instead of Yvette, but the former was deemed “unacceptable.” Liliana would have been way more cooperative as she wasn’t fond of styling contests either and didn’t like the Blood Curse either as she felt that Styling Contests were imposed on everyone, regardless of their ability. Those with other talents were basically screwed unless they had support from those with “the clothes”. As for the Blood Curse, she has been affected by it on more than one occasion due to her constant misgivings about how disputes on Miraland are settled and the occasional refusal to do what is required should she lose. She loves Yvette’s school and appreciates the non violent revolution Yvette is leading.

16. This is really more of an odd theory, but I think that Hostess L may have been a Nikki lookalike who was part of the Nameless Knights, hence her name. Because of this, the Nameless Knights have “the key to the Blood Curse” if not one of them. I actually came up with this quite suddenly. Would be an interesting twist for sure and it would explain the suit she was wearing when she won(black dress with a sun pendant).

17. Despite what the current Lore says, I still consider Nidhogg a Scorpio. I have him born on November 13th(number of the Tarot Death). He shares the same birthday as Leatherstrip(industrial/ebm musician), ftr. Coincidence. Also, this year, it falls on Friday the 13th. But, since I still adore him, I guess he gets two Bdays. :) He really should have been an Air sign though. Gemini would have been perfect, especially since Bobo is currently the only one.

18. I also hold on to Nidhogg being 4 years older than Louie. At least I got the OLDER part right. :p I just fee like being under 30 is too young, but too much into the 30’s would be too old. 31 is just right, imo.

19. Before the black Camaro(aka, Maro) and the white Mustang(White Horsey), Nidhogg and Louie shared a Jeep. It was known as a “Rubicon” or “Rubi”. When Louie left, Nidhogg drove in that jeep to Lilith and Pigeon. He ended up eventually giving away for “image” reasons. He purchased the Camaro right before he became Prime Minister.

20. Glossing Rose was inspired by an abstract art piece done by Liliana. When he first arrived at Cicia Design School, Liliana, who was around 11 at the time, was among the first people he met and he knew her for years. He was accused of stealing from her when the Pink Bunny stockings were introduced “That’s not his style!” He admitted that they were inspired by one of Liliana’s drawings and she often was an inspiration. Emperor’s Woman, otoh, is clearly his actual design style and he does have a similar suit. He never actually stole from her nor did he ever claim credit for any of her works.

[mementomcriis]

´   ･   .   ✶   ⧼   maya   hawke,   demiwoman,   she   &   her   &   they   &   them   /   girl   with   one   eye   by   florence   and   the   machine   +   the   soft,   white   noise   crackle   of   an   ancient   vhs   tape,   aging   newspaper   clippings   and   yellowed   family   photographs   pinned   to   a   corkboard   and   connected   with   a   distinct   red   string,   and   the   cloying,   all   consuming   smell   of   lavender   and   sage   ⧽   ━━   don’t   look   now,   but   that’s   SIDNEY   AMELIA   KNOX-KHAN.   the   twenty   two   year   old   HUMAN   has   been   here   in   seattle   for   their   whole   life,   and   is   a   FILM   STUDENT   &   VIDEO   STORE   CLERK.   they’ve   always   been   IRREPRESIBLE   &   IRON   WILLED,   but   i   guess   this   town   just   brings   out   the   worst   in   people   ;   apparently,   they’ve   been   way   more   CONTRARIAN   &   VOCIFEROUS   than   usual.   it   wouldn’t   surprise   me   if   they   knew   what   was   going   on.   you   can   check   out   their   stat   page   HERE.

       i   wish   that   i   could   say   that   i   am   a   LIGHT   that   never   goes   out   /                           BUT   I   FLICKER   FROM   time   TO   time.

section one of three : bullet point history trigger warnings for talk of murder

sidney was born here in seattle, washington. her mother was BEATRICE KHAN, a fairly well known name in the publishing world ( though she never released any of her own countless numbers of novels ), absolutely unrelenting when it came to cutting her clients a good deal. her father was julian knox, a one time american football player who PEAKED in college and turned to writing romance novels after a career ending injury forced him to confront that he wasn’t much qualified for anything else. the family unit that they created was full of love and ever nurturing - perfect, from the inside to the out.

they were the quintessential all american family, where it COUNTED. parents that were sickeningly in love. two kids, with the perfect age difference between them. they lived in a house in the suburbs with a picket fence ( that was actually stained brown, not white ) and a perfect lawn, where the cat they had in place of a dog due to julian’s allergies would lounge, day after day. even the neighbours figured they were perfect ; the kind of thing with with all smiles, to their faces, and muttered darkly in the privacy of their own suburban homes. beatrice would go to work from eight to five, every day. julian would stay home. he got the kids their breakfast, he got them on a bus. he would go inside and write and break up the day with gardening or do it yourself projects, attending community meetings, fulfilling his pta role - and then his kids would come home, and dinner would be on the table in time for his wife’s return. perfect. clockwork. 

sidney loved it, personally. she had no desire to act out. no need to break the mold, so to speak. she never felt as if she were stifled, or that her parents were pushing their own ambitions onto her. if anything, the thing that was most shocking about her early life was that she actually ENJOYED it. school could be challenging, in it’s own way - she was diagnosed with dyslexia young, but it took a few more years for them to pinpoint her adhd - but she got all the help that she could have dreamt of needing. she was allowed, if not encouraged, to try every whim that came to mind. they were, after all, within a privileged position enough to ALLOW it. piano lessons for two years, the violin for five. she attempted gymnastics and managed to break her wrist just two lessons in - never bothered to try another more physical activity, after that, but she had a healthy appreciation for watching sports, just like dad. her home life was excellent. her school life was just fine. she was a BRIGHT and curious soul, and she had aspirations for the kind of college that should she have attended, her mother could have lived VICARIOUSLY through her. she was extremely lucky to like her parents, and to appreciate the life that they had given her for all that it was.

she shouldn’t have to look back on these earlier years with sadness, and yet, life simply doesn’t work the way that it SHOULD. the week before the murders, she never could have presumed what was going to happen, though she was plagued by nightmares - something that she attributed to the horror movie marathon she had just completed or the milk drank before bed, and not to anything legitimate. she dreamt of hooded figures and serrated knives and a screaming that never stopped ringing in her ears, even after she awoke in a cold sweat and struggled to fall back asleep. she would struggle from the tangle of bedsheets with the urge to wash her hands, compulsively ; as if she were trying to get non-existent blood out from beneath her fingernails. she was fifteen years old, and she googled things like ‘can my period give me nightmares?’ and ‘is the milk before bed thing legit’, but she had NO REASON to fear the images that slipped away, as night turned into day. 

it seems cruel, in it’s own way, that the night which changed the course of sidney’s life for good is one she spent completely unaware. she was staying at her girlfriends house - a sleepover planned for almost a MONTH - and the next morning, when the police came to pick her up, she had been in the midst of eating breakfast with the affectionately named ‘in laws’ and trying to swallow back a persistent feeling of unease. she was lucky that she was waiting for a lift back to her house - she was luckier, still, that a nosy neighbour had noticed her mother’s car hadn’t left for work, yet, and popped around to check in on them. if they hadn’t, and if she had gotten the early morning bus as planned, then sidney would have had to live with image of her bloodied parents until the day she DIED, too.

her mom and dad were gone. this was the gut punch, number one. number two was that her sibling - her should have been legal guardian - was under arrest. the MURDER weapon ( a phrase she had only ever heard on tv, and could never have guessed would be said in regards to her life ) had been found wrapped in one of their jackets and thrown in a dumpster outside. they had been picked up a block away, and in interrogation, their alibi didn’t stand up. it was a rather cut & dry case, and suddenly, everyone in the neighbourhood - what felt like the whole world, back then - was doing their level best to pick sidney’s picture perfect life apart. people who had once only ever had good things to say now talked about late night arguments between mom and dad. said that they had never trusted the look of her sibling, not even when they were a kid. said there was something not right about them - and that they couldn’t be sure sidney wasn’t the same. the circumstantial evidence piled against the only member of family that sid had left, and there was nothing that could be done. she was put into the system a mere week after the murders, and everything moved quickly on. she talked to a handful of reporters, but for the most part, people out in the world didn’t care for the story. it wasn’t anything too SPECIAL, she supposed. 

too many stories talk of foster care becoming a sort of hell for the children stuck in it. for sidney, however, her foster home was her only salvation from the world outside her door. the one thing that she could rely on, even as she went through the most momentous changes. her first week back at school, the staring was almost painful. the whispers were worse. sidney requested she be moved, and in the process, she allowed herself be cut off from her old life - the friends she had, the partner she had loved. she started somewhere new, and she was... different, now. stranger. sidney’s way of dealing with all that had happened was to cling to things that had once only been a special interest - UNSOLVED crimes, sensationalist stories, horror movies and the supernatural. she spent a lot of time in her room, and she spent even more indulging in these new interests. the people at her new school figured that she was weird, and that assumption only got worse when they discovered what had happened to her parents. whispers of her being like her MURDEROUS sibling were somehow worse than anything else that had ever been said, but she took it, for the most part, on the chin. she couldn’t explain her sudden draw to the macabre, even less than she could explain why everything in her life had fallen apart. frankly.... it didn’t matter. she simply was.

sidney’s foster family supported her, right up until she turned eighteen, and even after. she sacrificed the dream of an ivy league school for something more achievable, beginning to attend a seattle local college after graduation and majoring in film, finding among those students - OLDER and more mature, of course, than high school kids - something she had started to forget was possible. her job as a film store clerk didn’t exactly help her rake in the cash, but once she started selling movie reviews to online publications, sidney was able to save up some money and buy professional equipment - beginning her podcast in late 2018. she doesn’t tend to talk about what happened. she doesn’t tend to think about her SIBLING. she’s got a life, now, and it’s not exactly the one she ever expected to be living - but it is her own, and that’s really all that she can hope for. 

section two of three : headcanons

sidney dealt with her grief by… hyper fixating on a special interest she had always sort of had, and becoming quite the little movie buff. horror movies, more than anything, but people didn’t react very well when she went off on a tangent over wes craven’s talent, so she broadened her horizons a little. she enjoys film, maybe moreso than she should. all that led her to other special interests, and now she’s dabbled in just about everything that a woman can. 

her podcast deals, of course, with unsolved mysteries. this usually takes the form of unsolved CRIMES, but... she believes in ghosts and aliens, and she throws an episode in every now and then that deals with them. she’s very open about this side gig, solely because she hopes that someday, it’ll be what she does for a living - and because there’s no point in attempting to hide something that’s such a huge part of her life, even if people do tend to... not enjoy her being so into these things, as the daughter of two murder victims.

her older sibling was acquitted of the crime - eventually. sidney still doesn’t enjoy thinking about them or it, per say, but when the news reached her, she did begin to... hyper fixate, once again, and begin to obsess over what the TRUTH was. she has cork theory board dedicated solely to her parents - and more recently has added another one, dedicated to what’s happening in seattle. she’s not gifted, or in the know, but she’s certainly not an idiot.

has a pet rat named church ( which is a fairly ironic reference to the cat in pet sematary ), and he’s NOT her first. she’s owned several since she was put into care, and they’ve always been something of an emotional support for her. 

while i align sidney more with ‘conspiracy theories’ and ‘true crime’ than i do ghosts and ghouls, i will admit that i tend to push a lot of spooky cliche’s onto her, because i like having a character who’s very IN TOUCH and into that season, in particular. promise i’m trying to control the impulses.

always has on at least five necklaces and eight rings, and never has any less than ten bracelets. her style would be hard to define, but the amount of cheap jewelry is FAIRLY indicative. 

section three of three : wanted connections

sidney knox-khan, our maya hawke is looking for their older sibling who resembles finn cole, tiera skovbye, dacre montgomery / up to player and should be 23+. applicants do not have to contact rachel to talk over details before applying.   (   pls allow me preface with the fact that i wld be happy for her sibling to be half / adopted / fostered either, and they don’t necessarily have to be named after a horror character like sid was - though the latter is a fun lil thing abt the family, so i would love if u went that route too ! sid and her sib have had. a rough life. and by that i mean, they had an entirely perfect life up until the sib was aged 18 - when they were arrested for the murder of their well to do parents. it’s all explained more clearly within sid’s intro, and basically… the evidence was circumstantial and flimsy. it probably would have made sense they spend SOME time behind bars, but it’s also possible they didn’t -  though sid was put into care for the remainder of her teens, so may not know they were ever released ! the two very distinct routes this could go in are …. sid being suspicious of them and feeling as if they must of done it, because who else could have, or alternatively - sid being open to the idea of them not, because nothing about the case ever sat right w her. we could talk more abt it, but i feel like it’s one of those connects i just. wld love to have !  )

sidney knox-khan, our maya hawke is looking for their foster family ( parents, siblings, etc ) who resemble ariela barer, iman meskini, madchen amick, santiago segura, herman tommeraas, bradley cooper / up to player and should be any age. applicants do not have to contact rachel to talk over details before applying.   (   sid never took their name, so first up - that’s a detail open to applicants ! basically. there’s a mother, a father, and their merry band of foster kids - probably… four… five? a nice amount. none of them have to be like one another. none of them have to fit a specific role. this is the family that took sidney in after her parents were murdered, and the fact of the matter is - there are a LOT of stories in which foster care became a hell for the protagonist, but that’s not sid’s story. she was ostracized in school. she had lost her only blood relations. her foster home became a safe haven, and the people within it became as close as could be to her. we stan one supportive household who still hold her whole heart, to this day.   )

sidney knox-khan, our maya hawke is looking for their close friends ( max. four ) who resemble virginia gardner, justice smith, sydney park / up to player and should be 21+. applicants do not have to contact rachel to talk over details before applying.   (   sid didn’t have ANY friends until she got to college, due completely to how #weird people began to find her. she eventually found her squad, but they’re basically. like every good horror movie group. her equivalent would be rany meeks from scream 1996, or noah foster from scream tv. she fits their archetype, but i wouldn’t say that the group MUST comprise of likeminded people. in fact, it’s more fun if they don’t. they’re not a group of jocks or cheerleaders or popular kids, but they are a sort of breakfast club. a merry band of b-listers who grouped together and have remained together for a real long time.   )

sidney knox-khan, our maya hawke is looking for their ex poly ship who resemble up to player and should be 21+. applicants do not have to contact rachel to talk over details before applying.   (   sidney made a bunch of… not entirely excellent choices, in the yrs following her parents deaths. that isn’t to say she acted out, or that she did anything that was too out of character for her. she really didn’t - but she did become a much more WEIRD version of who she had always been, and people pushed her away because of it. when others came along that seemed to be able tolerate who she had become, she clung to them - to almost extreme degrees. the relationship was a whirlwind if ever there was one, and perhaps wasn’t ‘true love’. maybe not even close. but they did seem to work right up until when they didn’t - and the end was quite messy, by all standards. sid did a good job of ending relationships on friendly terms, but this didn’t - all details aside from these are open for discussion !   )

[stitchcasual]

Oh noes! Prompts for stitch... 31 for fenhawke in whatever universe you feel fits. Bonus points if there's silly doodling on boring meeting documents involved.

Should I maybe have been working on something else at work instead of this? Maybe. Was this absolutely a ton of fun and I regret nothing? Fuck yes

I hope you enjoy this cheesy, modern!au fenhawke thing

This is the fifth meeting Hawke’s been in about this new synergizing-between-departments concept the administration has come up with. Hawke’s always crossed department lines when he needed to and most of the other managers and assistant managers in this meeting with him today have done the same. It’s just that the administration team has made IT put together a fancy new software package to facilitate this sort of communication so they don’t have to leave their desks and waste valuable time. Or that’s what it feels like to Hawke. Which is why today he’s brought his notebook and posted up near the back of the room so he can amuse himself instead of pretending to pay attention to PowerPoint Presentation From Meeting Three, the Remix.

He’s trying to doodle his dog’s stupid face when he feels eyes on him. Casually looking up reveals the new assistant manager in Cullen’s department watching him out of the corner of his eye. Hawke hasn’t had a lot of time to get to know him yet, different departments and all, but he does make a point to introduce himself to all of the new managers in their first week, just in case they need something from him or he from them. This one hasn’t called on Hawke in the few months he’s been here, so all Hawke knows is that his name is Fenris, he’s got a startlingly deep voice for someone his size, and he’s absolutely too attractive to be part of Cullen’s department.

Hawke raises an eyebrow at him and holds out his notebook so Fenris can see the sketch of his dog. It, uh, well, no one has ever accused Hawke of being a talented artist, so it looks more like a series of looping lines in a vague, perhaps animal-like shape but he’s having fun and that’s what matters. Or at least, that’s what he keeps reminding himself as Fenris simply stares at the doodle. Is Fenris secretly a master artist who wasn’t able to make enough money selling his art and that’s why he’s here, moonlighting for a multinational corporation in a very specialized department …yeah, probably not. It still looks like Fenris is judging him though.

Impulsively, Hawke pulls his notebook back and scribbles, “can u do better,” above the dog before holding it back out to Fenris and offering his pen. He can’t tell exactly what Fenris is thinking, but Fenris takes the notebook and pen, looking somewhat bemused at this turn of events. As Hawke takes in the slide projected at the front of the room, some sort of mashup between slides from presentations three and four it looks like, Fenris bends over the notebook, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

A few minutes later, Fenris pokes the notebook into Hawke’s arm, nodding down to the new drawing in the pages. Hawke presses his lips together to hold back a laugh as he grabs the pen back from Fenris. Leaving the notebook in the space on the table between them, he writes another note underneath Fenris’s drawing.

my dog is not a nug

Fenris slips the pen out of Hawke’s hand and writes back: how was I supposed to know that was a dog?

Hawke presses a hand to his chest in mock outrage, and Fenris raises an amused eyebrow at him.

draw an actual dog now, Hawke writes.

Fenris rolls his eyes but takes the pen and sketches out a pretty decent dog, actually. The nug had been well done too, and though Hawke feels a little bad about his own skills, at least Fenris seems willing to indulge him and isn’t actively shitting on his drawing ability, or lack thereof. Fenris adds a little smiley face next to the dog, and Hawke takes it all back: Fenris is an absolute sarcastic menace…and Hawke’s into it.

Hawke makes grabby hands for the pen and takes his revenge.

can u only draw nugs?

Fenris snatches the pen and draws a gorgeous rose.

nug plant, Hawke writes.

Fenris draws an elephant.

real big nug

Fenris draws a snake.

long nug

Fenris draws a quick portrait of Hawke.

scruffy looking nug herder

By this point, both of them are struggling to hold back laughter, and Hawke’s had to wipe away a few tears threatening to fall. He closes his notebook just before the meeting ends and they’re all dismissed to get back to the actual work that’s been piling up while they were in here.

“So, Fenris,” he says as he stands, tucking the notebook under one arm and extending his other hand to shake. Fenris takes the hand, his lips curling up in a pleased little smile.

“Hawke,” Fenris says, and Hawke grins, glad to see he isn’t the only one who remembered the other’s name.

“Feel free to drop by my office anytime to…synergize.” He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, but thankfully Fenris chuckles even as he shakes his head.

“Just for that, perhaps I won’t.” But Hawke could swear Fenris winks before he walks away, and Hawke heads back to his office smiling and wondering if this new synergizing software includes the ability to send really shitty drawings to people.

[vicscratchpages]

Eml Writes His Name (Part 3)

(Part One)  (Part Two)

“Have you written your name any, since the last time we met?” Tu’l asked him.

“Oh—I did!”

“May I see what you’ve come up with?”

“Come up with?”

“It is your name, after all.”

Tu’l tilts her head. She wants to smile, but she knows she must be a little serious to impress upon Eml what it is that he needs to know.      

“You will write what most comes naturally to you,” she explains.  “And you may find that, depending on the situation and the people present, you will write your name differently.”

“Is this different from my call name?” Eml asks, blinking.  

He still remembered the way Koteh had first introduced himself.  Although Eml hadn’t known it at the time, he was already parroting words back, testing them on his tongue.  Always careful, hoping he wouldn’t offend.  

-

Ko...teh…?  

Well, my full name is Ko’l.  Ko’l Theodore Edward Hawke is my formal name, but that’s too much for even me to remember—or it would be, if my Gran’m didn’t use it every time I got in trouble.  But Koteh is my call name.  What’s yours?

Eml had blinked, trying to capture all that had been said.  Koteh talked fast—and was still talking, Eml realized.

That’s not to mean to tell me your full name if you don’t wish to give it, and certainly not your formal name.  You needn’t share it simply because I told you my own.  I simply would like to call you however you desire.

And grinning.  Always, endlessly grinning.  Eml had felt his face mirroring the expression, but he was certain that Koteh’s cheeks were naturally rosy while his own face was flush with something quite different.  

I’m—just Emilio, I’m afraid.  Emilio Lucas.

Is that what I should call you? Em-Leo?  No, that wasn’t right.  Can you say it again for me?

He’d laughed, because it was impossible not to.  Koteh—Kole Theodore—was unbearably kind.  Unbelievably likeable.  And unquestionably attractive, but that wasn’t the point.  Koteh wanted to know his name.  Koteh wanted to know his name.  Eml had steadied himself with a breath, hoping he wouldn’t sound like a fool.  

Emilio.  But maybe I could have a name like yours.  A—call name?

You want me to give you a call name?  Then we certainly must be friends!  Or at least, I hope we can be. Eh—mee—Leo.  Lucas you said, right?  My own call name is really just all my initials.  Yours could be similar, with the Em and the L.  

Eml?  

Except when he’d said it, it, it sounded like he was nervous and nauseous before giving a speech.  He didn’t have Koteh’s eloquence.  There was a richness to the other boy’s vowels, a musical yet peculiar way he had of rounding out his words and enunciating the consonants with a light flair.  

Eml, yes.  Or Emuelle, in the Myrdaven accent.  Emil, if a smith from Kolraven were to say it. Of course, if you don’t like it—

No, no—it’s nice...

-

Eml sighs to himself, still wishing he had come up with a better way of expressing how touched he was. I love it, he’d wanted to say—except it would have come out as I love you.  Even then, he’d been aware how absurdly, dangerously, hopelessly drawn he was to Koteh.  

Now here he was, folded into Koteh’s family as if they had been expecting him all along.  He straightened, his eyes focusing on the paper in front of him as he wrote the carvings Tu’l had taught him.  He found he was fond of the backwards E, perhaps because it meant something in him matched something in Koteh.  Or so he hoped.

The M, he slanted to the right.  The L was the only forward letter—and compared to a standard alphabet, it was backwards.  Setting the pen down, Eml draws another breath—but his hands are not shaking. 

 Something about seeing his name written so always brought a twang through him.  It was right, he knew.  But from the outside—from his family’s perspective, he imagined—it was wrong.  Well, wrong might be a harsh word, but certainly bewildering.  

Tu’l hummed, nodding as if in agreement with the way the letters landed on the page.  Something in the note soothed him, as if Tu’l knew of his choices.  His hope—or intention—to be who he knew himself to be, even if it meant enduring some form of discomfort.

“To answer your question, this will be a little like your call name and a little not.  Your name in Crevasse says much about you.”

 Tu’l wrote out the carvings again as she spoke. 

“The first line is what you might use in any sort of introductory occasion, if you want people to know the type of person you are or your outlook on life.  The second line says more about how you came to that outlook, how it plays out in your interactions.  How much you share of your name is always up to you.”

Eml smiled, thinking again of how Koteh had given his name so freely.  Later, Eml had learned that it was quite rare that anyone offered another person their formal name.  They were formal names for that very reason—used only for ceremonious occasions. Full names—what he thought of as his own first name—were shared to explain or clarify a call name.  

He had yet to observe anyone share their name in Crevasse, but then again he realized there was still much he did not know.  His brow wrinkled a moment, wondering if he was still an outsider despite how welcoming Koteh’s family had been.  Was he intruding somehow, pushing himself into spaces where he didn’t belong?

“It is not every day that we get to teach someone their name,” Tu’l said, as if knowing his thoughts.  “Although really, it’s more like helping you learn more about yourself and your journey.”

“I’m learning more about me?”

Eml only found honesty in Aunt Tu’l’s smile.  Her gaze was direct, her nod firm.

“Our ways are all about learning—and while it may seem intimidating or perhaps prideful to others, what we really hope to know is how to be ourselves, both by ourselves and with other selves.  We would hope that as you learn more about us, you also learn more about yourself—and become more comfortable being yourself.  Because there is only one of you, and the world needs you.”

Something soft blooms in Eml.  He has become familiar with the feelings around Koteh: of his throat tightening, his chest loosening.  Of being overwhelmed and perfectly alright at the same time, never better.  He swallows and finds himself nodding—maybe not in agreement, but as if to say, I will do my best to believe you, because you’ve never lied to me.  I will try to trust you.  

Part Four

[twistedrunes]

George - She’s Here, By My Side

This is the first of the request for the 1K follower celebration. Requester asked for a fic in the George au, focusing on Tommy and Anna/George’s first meeting from Tommy’s POV (Chapter 1). Original request here. 

The song lyrics here are from the traditional Irish song “The Black Velvet Band” (listen here) it’s a song Grace sings to Tommy in series one. 

If you would like to request something for the celebration please go here

Warnings: language, discussions of canon typical violence and attempted rape, 

The chill from the ground rises up to surround Tommy as he settles himself on the small stool in front of the fire. He takes the last drag of his cigarette and flicks the butt into the fire. Exhaling the final lungful of smoke he gulps a mouthful of fresh cool air. Out here in darkness under the vastness of the clear sky, he can breathe. Grace is closer here, closer than in the house.

The muted hoot of an owl on the hunt passes overhead and Tommy allows his head to fall back as he follows its path. The stars are dazzling. So bright out here away from the filth of Small Heath he feels as if he could simply reach into the heavens. A whisper of a breeze caresses his cheek and carries a familiar tune from far beyond the edges of the field.

In a neat little town they call Belfast, Apprentice to trade I was bound, Many an hour’s sweet happiness, Had I spent in that neat little town.

Tommy’s eyes close, a look of calm on his face. A look that if his Aunt saw, would surely break her heart.

A sad misfortune came over me, Which caused me to stray from the land, Far away from my friends and relations, Betrayed by the black velvet band.

He plays over the events of the evening in his mind; prayers with Charlie before a story, saying goodnight to Mamma and telling her they loved her. Caressing his thumb over the apple of Charlie’s cheek thinking how like his mother he looked.

Her eyes, they shone like diamonds, I thought her the queen of the land, And her hair, it hung over her shoulder, Tied up with a black velvet band.

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

Tommy enters the factory, striding towards the office, coat and smoke billowing behind him. He climbs the stairs to the office he sees Arthur in his office. Ask him about Linda.

“Everything alright with Linda?” Tommy asks, stopping in the doorway of Arthur’s office.

“She’s fine, Tommy. Thanks to young George.” Arthur replies with a relieved smile, sitting back in the chair.

“Fuckin’ impressive that was,” John says joining Tommy in the doorway.

“Who was the man who attacked her? Who’d he work for?” Tommy asks, looking from one brother to the other.

“No-one,” John says confidently.

“Are you sure?” Tommy demands, his tone dark and full of doubt.

“Yeah, he was a fuckin’ no-one. A fucking pig farmer from fuckin’ Manchester.” John bristles against his brother’s scepticism.

Tommy glares at John. John glares back.

Don’t be so hard on him Tommy. He knows it’s important.

“Just to be safe, we sent someone with Linda and Esme when they went to Pol’s this morning.” Arthur interjects, “Didn’t we John?”

John looks away from Tommy to Arthur “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

“Why are they at Pol’s?” Tommy asks, irritated that his brothers have missed the other possible threat to the family.

“Well, Linda wanted to say thank you.” Arthur stammers.

“Plus we couldn’t leave George there alone while Pol was out on business.” John jumps in.

Pol wouldn’t have let a stranger stay at her house alone if she didn’t trust them. She’s slow to trust that woman.

“Hmm,” Tommy hums in agreement. “Who’s with them?” He directs the question to Arthur.

“Davidson,” Arthur replies his tone filled with relief with Tommy’s apparent approval.

Tommy turns away with a nod and carries on to his office.

Tommy, you have to trust them. Family is your strength.

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

“Mr Shelby,” Mary calls after Tommy just as he reaches the hall on his way to the stables.

Tommy stops and turns to face her. “Mrs Gray is on the phone for you Sir,” Mary says.

“Right. I’ll be there in a minute.” Tommy replies, removing his overcoat and cap and hanging both on the coat rack.

Mary hands Tommy the phone, and he lights a cigarette before lifting the phone to his mouth “Polly” he breathes, in a cloud of smoke.

“Tommy. I want you to listen.” Polly says firmly.

“Yes, Pol.” Tommy huffs, causing another cloud of smoke to engulf the mouthpiece as he sinks down into the chair.

“I’ve been speaking to your brother’s and Michael.” Polly pauses as if expecting Tommy to interrupt, but she quickly continues when he doesn’t “We think you should offer George a job.”

“The girl who saved Linda?” Tommy asks.

“Yes. George, who saved Linda.” Polly stresses the name.

“That’s not enough reason to offer an outsider a job.”  Tommy does cut her off this time.

“Tommy. Listen.” Polly says forcefully.

“I don’t need any household staff, we have enough wire-cutters and we all have secretaries we don’t need any more women on staff.”

“She will be useful in the deal with Solomons,” Polly says through gritted teeth, giving up on getting Tommy to refer to George correctly for the moment. “She’s a gunsmith, a good one by the looks of it. She’s worked on all the boy’s weapon and mine tonight. Turned the piece of shit gun we took of the man that attacked Linda into a good piece. Michael bought it off her. She’s also a good shot Arthur says, plus handy with her fists.”

Solomons can’t be trusted can he? Best to have someone of your own to look the guns over.

“Why’s she pretending to be a man?” Tommy asks bluntly.

“I don’t know,” Polly replies. “But by the state of her, I’d say she’s hiding and in no hurry to be found. So she’s not going to be doing anything to draw attention to herself.”

You can’t do it all on your own Tommy. What can it hurt to at least meet her?

“Have her come in, in the morning,” Tommy says as he rings off.

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

Tommy watches the figure standing with their back to him outside his office. Carriers herself like a man don’t you think? Something about the posture. Plus I can tell where your missing suits have gone. He listens as Arthur extols the figures shooting prowess, and much to Tommy’s surprise, John commends their skill too. John then launches into a graphic description of the injuries they inflicted on the man who attempted to attack Linda. John laughs as he recounts the man promising never to set foot in the county again as long as John kept ‘that mad fucker’ away from him.

When Michael pulls out the gun George had repaired, Tommy can’t help but admit it is good work. “Why does she dress as a man?” He asks no-one in particular.

John and Arthur both look to Michael. “Don’t know,” Michael replies. “But mum says she’s been hurt and is obviously hiding for some reason, and that she’s smart, good at what she does and saved a member of the family, so if she wants to be a man then she probably has her reasons. Mum says it’s not like we don’t have secrets of our own. Plus Mum says we owe him for Linda.”

“And a hot meal and clean bed weren’t enough?” Tommy asks.

“That cunt was going to rape my wife,” Arthur says angrily.

Tommy holds up a hand to placate his brother. “Alright bring him in, Michael.”

As Michael goes to the door, Tommy picks up a piece of paper from his desk and begins to scan it. John and Arthur both smile at George encouragingly as he enters the office. George stops about halfway along the table. Tommy motions them closer, without looking up,  and when he is satisfied they are close enough he begins to speak still not looking up from his page. He wants to know how easy it is to unsettle George, how flighty he is. If they were going to meet Solomons they’d need to have nerves of steel. From what you tell me, Tommy, Solomons is positively unhinged. I’m not sure anyone can be prepared for that. “My family tell me you have a particular skill set which may be useful to Shelby Company Limited.”

George regards Tommy mutely. Tommy glances at him irritably, saying nothing. An uncomfortable silence begins to stretch between them until John interjects, “George is a gunsmith Tommy, a fucking good one too.”

Tommy moves his eyes to John, whose mouth snaps shut before Tommy turns his attention back to the page in front of him. “Where did you learn this trade?” He looks up briefly, making eye contact with George for only a moment as he says the name. “George?”

Looks like you the first time I met you. It’s in the eyes. Those, Tommy Shelby, are the eyes of someone who’s seen the other side. Just like you, part of her died and what survived came back changed.

“My father, Mr Shelby,” George replies simply.

Tommy nods. “And why is it you don’t work for him then?” He probes.

“He’s dead,” George replies flatly.

Tommy glances up from his page, waiting for George to continue. George makes no effort to do so. Neither does anyone else. “The job pays three pounds a week, you’ll work here at the factory and if anyone asks you work on the assembly line, right?” Tommy says finally.

“Yes, Mr Shelby.”

“All right you lot, fuck off. I’ve got work to do.” Tommy waves his hand dismissively. Arthur, John and Michael all stand from their chairs and, as a group, head for the door. Michael reaching it first and opening it. George falls in at the end of the line.

Ask her.

“George,” Tommy says quietly.

George stops and turns to face him. “Yes, Mr Shelby.”

“Shut the door, Michael,” Tommy instructs putting the piece of paper down and turning his hawk-like gaze to George. Michael closes the door, with he, Arthur and John still inside. Once it’s closed Tommy speaks, “Why is it that a woman, such as yourself” he waves his hand in a circle vaguely at George’s chest height “would choose, to dress, act and be known as a man?”

The tension in the air is palpable. Tommy lights a cigarette, blowing the smoke out his nose. George stands a little straighter and nods, mimicking Tommy’s movements. “Well, Mr Shelby there are three reasons.” Tommy raises his eyebrows but doesn’t interrupt. “In my trade,” George continues, “every asshole with a cock thinks he knows more about guns than a woman does.”

John snorts. Tommy shoots him a withering look “And?” he prompts.

“When a man is looking for a woman,” George says, holding Tommy’s gaze calmly, “he will never look twice at another man.”

Tommy doesn't react this time, simply blinking slowly, as if he had all the time in the world.

She’s right.

“And finally Mr Shelby, life is much fucking easier when you’re a man,” George concludes.

Tommy nods and rubs his hand across his face. The melody of a familiar laugh fills his ears. He feels all his annoyance with George’s comment evaporate. What he wouldn’t do to hear that laugh again and again. It brings a smile to the corners of his mouth. Trying to conceal it, he leans back to blow smoke at the ceiling before finally turning his attention back to George. “So this man, looking for a woman, is that going to create any problems?” He asks coldly, eyes boring into George’s for any sign of a lie.

George holds Tommy’s gaze easily. “No Mr Shelby,” he pauses for a moment, “Unless of course Mr Shelby, you are a man looking for a woman?”    

“Fuck me.” Arthur grunts in amusement.

I like her.

Tommy flicks the tip of his tongue over his lips and raises his eyebrow, not even attempting to hide his smirk this time. He stands and stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on his desk. Placing his hands on the desk, he looks up at George. “So it’s agreed then, George you now work for us. Only the five of us here, Finn, Polly, Linda and Esme will know you are not a man. No one is to mention it again. From this moment forward until the day you leave my employment you will be George Hunter. Shelby Company Limited does not employ women on its assembly line. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mr Shelby.” George agrees.

“Right then. Michael, do the paperwork.” Tommy says turning back to his desk.

Tommy listens to the excited chatter as his brothers, Michael and George descend the stairs. He lights another cigarette as he watches them cross the factory floor, laughing and joking with each other. As they pass from view his eyes close, and a calmness descends on his face.

A sad misfortune came over me, Which caused me to stray from the land, Far away from my friends and relations, Betrayed by the black velvet band.

As always I look forward to your thoughts, comments, questions and suggestions. 

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