#Opening to the Masses||Starter Call

[adventures-written]

Where was Vash? And Rem? What was this place? A desert wasteland, sand as far as the eye could see in every direction. And he was alone. “VAAASSHHH!!” he called out loudly, growing tired from yelling. His hope for finding his brother wavered. “Where are you..? Where am I...?”

[pokemon-ash-aus]

Dead AU ask caus ima suck for ash being a pokemon:

his body was found after a year, right? that means if decay works similar to our world, only bones would remain. How did they identify the body? dental records?

I think it works differently, Only because there isn't small decay eating bugs.

We can say that Weedle and Caterpie are the main culprits, but considering the area was filled with Spearow, we can assume that the bug population was greatly reduced.

Ash did not bury his and Pikachu's body, so, that does leave a few options. Mummification is out due to area being filled with moisture.

A normal decay without any outside help (ie caskets and all) takes about 10 days tops. Considering Ash and Pikachu's body was left in the open, the bug populace was reduced to nill, he would have been subjected to more underground pokemon.

Rattata are more than likely to feast on his corpse whereas the Sandshrews would aim for Pikachu. The infestation of Spearow and the mass exodus of many of em due to Pikachu's lightning powered thunder shock would likely lead all the pokemon to the bird pokemon. Smaller game equals easier meat.

This is on a long winded rant to say that Ash and Pikachu's body would have likely decayed within 2 weeks. A little longer than the average 10 days!

As for identification - it was a Molar test where they had /presumed/ it was Ash! Why do i say presume?

Ash was 10 years old at the start of his journey and subsequent end of life, He has NO dental records as of this age due to not needing crowns, fillings etc. Especially since he still at his baby teeth stage.

Typically speaking, Baby teeth start to shed between the ages of 8-12 years old, prominent ones, such as the canine teeth, take a while longer compared to the others.

Ash still had all his teeth, so we can presume either a) his baby teeth never fell out, or b) Most of his teeth had already prematurely fell out and he had his adult teeth at this point.

I'm more inclined to the thought of baby teeth never having fallen out, leading to the inability to have any records!

Technically speaking, the only thing police would be able to find out, is that the body had been there for close to a year already.

You know what's odd though? That the victim had a Pokemon right next to him.

A Pikachu

Looking into records of any trainers with Pikachu narrows it down greatly. And suddenly, they come across the record of Ash Ketchum, the only Pallet town trainer (a direct correlation of why he was in the viridian forest) with a Pikachu as a /starter/

So clearly, the body MUST be him. He even started as a trainer this year!

And thus, they believe that someone else stole Ash's identity since their are records of monsy being used, Pokemon being caught etc.

Except that's very clearly not the case, when Ash Ketchum -living breathing and looks EXACTLY like his trainer photo- conducts an interview with confusion.

"I've been traveling with freinds this entire time, why do people think I'm dead?"

And his Pikachu is right there on his shoulder- far too smart for a pikachu- looking on in the same amount of confusion.

The call is off, the grave stays with the body of the unknown trainer, and they never buff out the name Ketchum.

His name was Ash Ketchum

[lifeisabitch-butimcute]

it's snippet hours

RIGHT. so. plans for the evening were cancelled because it's fucking snowing again boooo and there's no snippet games going around but i'm writing tonight and i'm excited about it!

from chapter 3 of Rumspringa:

“Remus!” Sirius hollered, loud enough to jolt them both from their conversation.  Remus’ head whipped around, a wide smile already settling into place, the small gap in his front teeth on display. “Sirius! I have something for you!”  Sirius raced forward to give his heart a reason to be beating so hard, and Remus met him halfway in a bone-crushing hug. His were the hugs that Sirius had come to look forward to the most, with all due respect to the Potters. He was still small, all angles and sharp edges, but he fit just right in Sirius’ arms, and he was the perfect height for Sirius to bury his face in the crook of his neck as he wound his arms around Remus’ waist. 

ALSO

Sirius looked at the jar with a small frown. It was a beigey, goopy mass, and he wasn’t sure what it had to do with bread at all. “You got me goop?” Remus let out an irritable huff, a sound that Sirius had come to recognize as Remus rapidly losing patience with people who failed to keep up with him. “It’s a starter,” he said, as if that were completely obvious, “for friendship bread.” Sirius clutched the jar a little tighter. “Oh,” he said softly. “And it’s called friendship bread because…” “Because the starter is only s’posed to go to friends, silly,” Remus replied. 

anyways i wanna know what my peeps are working on too 👀 np tagging: @kaaaaaaarf @moon-seas @quillkiller @sugarsnappeases @fruityindividual etcetera and so forth....consider this an open tag

[chasedbyatlantic]

when you wash your hair, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — you decide to surprise a sleeping joel after you've been working all day outside of jackson's walls, but it doesn't go as you plan.

warnings: gender neutral x joel miller, post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, mentions of you and joel in a relationship, sub!joel, joel has ptsd, joel almost hurts reader (doesn't tho so dw!), lots of fluff at the end, cute ending, lots of swearing, ellie being annoying as per usual LOL. lmk if there’s anything i missed <3

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: hiiii this is my very first fic on tumblr! i have been obsessed w/ tlou for the LONGEST time now so why not start writing for my fav fictional mass murderer? anyway- hope u guys enjoy! i plan to post a ton more so stay tuned xoxo

—

You had just finished an ungodly long shift along the outskirts of Jackson, keeping everyone inside safe from- well, whatever lay outside (scary squirrels, mostly). It had been so different since you arrived, with Joel and Ellie. For starters, you weren't kept on edge every single second of every single day - Joel was, which you always got pissed at him for, since you two were more than safe inside these walls. There was also the fact that life had sort of just- resumed, after twenty years of fighting for your life. It was alright, though, a sense of normalcy was nice, even if it were to only last for a little while (you were hoping it lasted forever).

As soon as you were inside the gates of Jackson, you rode over to the stables in which your horse, Leo, was housed at. The big wooden doors were opened by a stable hand that looked no older than Ellie, maybe she knew who this was, you thought to yourself.

You had slid the kid a small "thank you." as they closed the door behind you, and you hopped off Leo. You reached in your bag and scrounged for a second, before pulling out an apple core, the remains of the apple you had eaten earlier. "Here boy," your hand raised towards the horse's snout with the leftovers in-palm, and he took it as if it were the best thing in the world.

Leo munched away while you swapped his bridle for a halter and lead, tugging him to his freshly-mucked stall. He had walked over to his water bucket and you moved with him, undoing his girth and removing his saddle. It was hoisted over your arm as you moved out and locked his stall. "Excuse me," You called over to the stable hand that had let you in as you put all of his tack on the stand in front, "Do you mind brushing him down for me? I've had a long day and gotta get home quick."

The kid nodded their head eagerly, which had earned a smile from you. You weren't lying about having a long day or needing to get home quick - besides, you had always stayed after your shifts, right now you were just craving to see your favourite person (and a warm bath too, you had guessed).

You had removed your gloves as you took one last glimpse at your boy before you left him to be taken care of by the stable hand. As you walked out of the stable, you were greeted with a nice breeze. It wasn't exactly winter yet, but it sure as hell wasn't summer. Autumn was close on finishing, which only meant the days were getting longer.

It took you a mere twenty five minutes to walk back to the Miller residence. If you had a little pep in your step, it would've taken no longer than fifteen. But, being up since before sunrise has its cons. Anyway, it isn't your fault that Tommy and Maria (Joel's brother and new sister-in-law) placed you guys in the farthest house literally ever.

As you approached closer to the home, you could see the familiar little (she would kill you if she heard you describe her as little) girl. The girl took notice of you too, "Fucking finally!" Ellie had kicked up her skateboard, grabbing the tip of it, and came running over. "Jesus Christ, I thought you had got eaten by like- fucking bigfoot out there!", She seemed to be only half-joking.

"I was not eaten out there, Ellie." You sigh as you messed her hair up slightly with your hand, "Is Joel still out on patrol?" You had asked the girl. Her face dropped, earning an "ugh!" from her. "You two love birds are gross. You should care more about me than him! He's a frail, broken, old man while I'm a super cool, and totally awesome young person." You rolled your eyes, an automatic laugh escaping your lips. "Another half an hour out here, Elle. It's almost sundown- and please be careful, for fuck sakes. I don't want to be popping your kneecap back in place because of a fall off that- board."

You weren't Ellie's mom, and you didn't mean to take any place of a motherly figure in her life - it just, sort of happened. After what had happened in Salt Lake City a year ago, and you had fought for Ellie back alongside Joel, you couldn't help but grow so much more attached to her- you and Joel both. This is when your motherly instincts (you were never a mother, not before or during this apocalyptic world) kicked in. You both shared a special bond, one that would never be broken, despite the cruel world you both live in.

A small grunt and a "fine" escaped the girl's lips as she flips her board down and kicks off down the street. You shake your head with an almost disapproving look and walk down the rest of the block to your home. A small smile plays upon your lips as you approach the house with a mailbox at the bottom of the driveway that reads "MILLER". Your last name was not Miller, but you were in a relationship with a Miller, so that could maybe, in the slightest, count as your name too.

Your hand brushed past the rusted metal box as you walk up the paved drive way, you're excited to see Joel. Hell, it feels like it's been an eternity since you've seen that man - when in reality, it's only been since this morning. You climb up the wooden stairs at the front of your porch and remove your boots before entering the house - this saved horrid amounts of mud that would scatter in the small foyer of your home. Once your feet are out of your dirty boots, you silently enter the home.

The door was never locked, not when Joel knew you or Ellie weren't home. You didn't know why he kept it unlocked- maybe in case something had happened and you needed to get home fast, or in case you would lose your keys while out and about. It wasn't that big of a deal, though; nobody else lived in this part of the town (besides Tommy and Maria, who were distant neighbours).

It was dead silent when you entered, too eery for your liking. "Joel?" You called out as you shrugged off your autumn layers. No response. "Joel?" You call out once again, moving to where you had seen the light. You approached tip-toeing, starting to get a bit on edge. Joel was always there to greet you when you got home, unless he had patrol duty himself. As soon as you step foot in your living room, all of the previous worries you had melted away as you saw your favourite person curled up on the arm chair, sitting back and mouth open slightly. You wish you had a camera, god a polaroid of this would be amazing.

You approached him, quiet as ever, sliding the sleeves of your soft-knit sweater over ninety percent of your hands. You had brought your face closer to Joel's once you were close enough. The smell of his vanilla and rose scented shampoo had engulfed you. Joel said he hated it (in reality, he definitely did not), but if it made you love him a little more, he would wash his hair with it.

"You're perfect, you know that." You whisper to him, even though he was sound asleep. From the faded freckles over the bridge of his nose from being out in the sun too much this summer, to the small scars that littered his forehead from years of just surviving, he was perfect.

You breathed hushly as you moved your hands up to his face, to cup his cheeks. You thought it was perfect, for him to wake up to you (as if he didn't every morning) at this moment. You knew he missed you when he wasn't with you, he told you multiple times. This would be a nice thing to make his day slightly better, you had thought. Your fingers made soft contact with the flesh on his face - but, this is where it all went wrong.

Joel had shot up from the deep (well, you thought deep) sleep he was in and grabbed the hands that were touching his face. It hadn't registered to him that it was actually you who was touching his face, and not a clicker, or a raider, or anything else. Rage and a sense of fear filled his eyes as they shot opened, eyebrows furrowed as they looked around frantically - he was ready to fight.

A loud grunt and an "ow." escaped your lips once your hands were grabbed and yanked. It had happened within a blink of an eye. You weren't exactly in the mood for getting manhandled in this current moment, but here you were. "Joel- hey, hey, it's just me. You're okay." You spoke quick, trying to pry him off your hand.

It was now that his eyes had met yours, and it took him a moment (which felt like eternity) to process it was you. "Baby.." His grip immediately loosened and his eyes fell. He looked horrified, at himself rather than anything. "M'sorry." There was a tone in his voice that made him sound ashamed, like he had just broken bad news to someone he loved.

"Don't apologize to me, Jesus Christ." You spoke almost too fast and brought your hand to his face again, you felt bad for scaring him awake- your plan had massively backfired. It took Joel a minute before he melted into the touch of your hand in his cheek, something he will only do when it is only you and him around each other. "Shouldn't have been sleepin' while you weren't home." He muttered, his eyes looking everywhere but at yours.

Your heart ached, he shouldn't feel like this- fuck, you're so stupid for doing this you thought to yourself. "Don't apologize baby, hey-" You brought his focus to you, and only you, "-listen, you're alright, okay? We're safe here, you know. I'm safe, Ellie's safe, you're safe." You reassured the man in front of you. "If you want to sleep all day without a care in the world, you can do it."

Joel was being extremely vulnerable right now- and he knew that you sensed it. This part of him never came out, he was always the strong one in the relationship (not that you weren't, he just had that aura linked to him). Your finger rubbed back and forth over his cheek. "M'sorry for waking you from your nap- I was just too jealous of how peaceful you looked. All comfortable in your blue sweater.." your eyes started to trail down his body right in front of you, "-your sweatpants.." you snapped yourself out of the trance you had fallen in, your eyes reaching back up to Joel's.

He was just quiet, in his own thoughts. "Ya'know I love you." you told him. He looked like he snapped out of his own thoughts once you said this to him, the smallest smile known to man appearing on his face (it was genuine, though). "I know, darlin'." This was your cue, you reached forward and placed your lips onto Joel's. Now this, this was home- god, you could've had your lips on his all day for eternity. Joel melted into the kiss, and placed one of his hands on your thighs.

Things had got heated between the two of you within seconds, suddenly the positions were switched and you were straddling Joel on the armchair in your living room. It wasn't until you tore apart from his lips that it hit you. "Ellie’s going to be home soon, baby. We can't have her catching us like this- not again." You tell him as you catch your breath. His lips find your neck, he only hummed in response. After a moment of no proper response from him, you tap his shoulder, "Seriously, Joel!". He had grunted, basically forcing himself off of you. "So let her see us, not like she don't know 'bout it." He muttered, leaning back in the chair you two were in. "Oh, suddenly you're mister PDA?" You asked as you got up, stretching.

He said something under his breath that you couldn't catch, but chose not to pressure him about it. "But hey.." You grab his hand and help him up, "Maybe you could help me in the shower, hm? Let me borrow some o' that good smellin' shampoo ya' got? Wash my hair for me?” Your eyes met his, a smile completely lighting up your entire face. "I'on mind, doll. Maybe you could help me with a few things too," He reaches down, pressing a wet kiss onto your lips.

You take this as the perfect time to slip your fingers between his, and lead him up to the second floor of your large house. Even though you had completely scared the shit out of Joel earlier, and you thought you were a dead man for a split second, he forgave you. He always forgives you - this is why you love him.

Joel had promised you that he would always stay, no matter what had happened between you two. After years of being together, through your ups and your downs, through your serious arguments and your little scares (like this), he was yours. Joel was always yours, and you were always his.

You two come laughing down the stairs, completely soaked from the shower you had taken together. Joel was back in the clothes he wore when you got home, and you were changed into one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts you had. He had his hand in yours as you lead him down the stairs. Before you could even step foot on the first floor, an "ew!" was yelled by a familiar voice.

"That is fucking disgusting- I cannot believe it! I can't leave you two together for more than thirty minutes before you turn into fucking rabbits. I may as well start thinking about names for the baby!" Ellie over exaggerates, acting completely disgusted from you and Joel holding hands.

Joel shoots Ellie a death glare as he drops his hand from yours momentarily, about to open his mouth before you interrupt. "Do I need to send you to your room, or something? You're so fucking crazy Elle!" You had let the little nick name slip out of your mouth, "You know I would never do anything unholy under the same roof as you." Well, you weren't lying. You and Joel never did it while Ellie was there, you didn't want anyone hearing what happened while you two were alone.

"Don't care, that's gross! Dinner is already made, I am GOING TO BED!" She had yelled as she was already half way up the stairs to her room on the second floor. Joel's hand snaked around your waist from behind as you tsk. "We got stuck with the most batshit crazy kid, I'm telling you."

Joel's hand tightens a smudge when you say that, "I love her though, and you I guess." He rests his head between the crook of your neck and slightly lets go once you add that. Even after the little bicker between the teenager, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

Even though you were in the midst of an apocalypse, life couldn't have been anymore good to you. They gave you Joel, and you were content - more than content - with it.

—

when you wash your hair, matt maltese

[ominous-faechild]

✦ Writer Questionnaire 2 ✦

Thanks for the tag, @the-golden-comet! (And @the-letterbox-archives tagging me when I was almost done here, haha)

Heads-up! Long post!

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr? A fast and loose estimate is fine!

Two months ago to the date actually??? Or, at least, that's when I first uploaded a story here. My first actual Writeblr post was me hopping in on an open tag on the 6th of June, haha. I thought it was just a month, but looks like the summer's gone by in a flash! 😭

What led you to create it?

So, I'm a writer on Tapas! I'd been attempting to social network on other social medias (twitter and bluesky) but wasn't getting anywhere, didn't like the general formats, and uh... I'm sure I don't have to explain why I don't want to touch Twitter with a 10-foot-pole anymore. Let's just say, if you haven't seen, it's just as bad as (if not worse than) everyone says. Anyhow, I'd seen lots of Tumblr short stories on other platforms and started investigating what it's like here. Didn't know what "Writeblr" was or that it even existed, but eventually stumbled into the field after posting my short story. Thanks, @darkandstormydolls! ❤️

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

How supportive everyone is??? Like omg you guys are so sweet, idk how to take it. Also I love seeing how much passion everyone else has for their writing, haha.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

Uhhhh, I think I'm pretty open about the things I'd like people to know about me, haha. I never mean to offend, so if I accidentally say something wrong, please tell me! I'm autistic and very dumb.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I'm ngl I keep meaning to build out my followed tags for my fandoms, haha. The only fandoms I really see things for are TMAGP (10/10, TMA is my obsession. I am obsessed. It is one of my Special Interests and I love it with all my heart) and House of the Dragon??? Except I'm not even a fan of HotD??? So that's kinda annoying, haha. (Aka, my fandom stuff, but that's on me.)

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Rising From the Ashes, tragically. (Because it's one of the LAST things I should be working on right now, haha.) Otherwise, I'm of course always obsessed with the Arcane Rifts. Then I force myself to be obsessed with Sun and Shadow, though it's slowly growing on me, haha.

How long have you been working on them?

Haha, so I've historically jumped around a lot in working on different things, so these are approximate guesstimations!

Rising From the Ashes has likely had 3 or 4 years put into it/the characters. If you include the Calamity Crew (which overlaps with it in the timeline and originally ended up merging with the cast of RFtA), I'd say definitely 4 years!

The Arcane Rifts has had 5 years put into it.

Sun and Shadow is very new; I'd say it probably only has about 4 months of work in it? It's part of why I'm less interested in it, haha. Less I've put into it and less I'm attached to.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

Oh... oh dear. How could you ask me this??? 😭😭😭

Rising From the Ashes has existed since, I think, 2016. It started (tragically) as an RP starter on Google+. I wish I was kidding.

To those unaware of how it worked in that space (and likely similar ones to this day), you'd post a starter and people would join in with their own characters. 99% of the time, they'd drop out before long. However, I'd work out details of the characters in the process and carry that info over into the worldbuilding. I eventually stopped RPing with the masses and settled down with a single "partner" who I'll call Kris.

She's the one who stole my docs.

The Arcane Rifts technically originated as another RP starter? It never got attention, though, and instead my ideas for it simply carried over into the worldbuilding in general.

One of the characters of the original starter was important in the worldbuilding. It was not a character you see in the early books of tAR, though, so don't bother trying to figure it out. But, since he was so important, his origins were also important.

The Arcane Rifts started in 2019, as I wanted to make a story building out said character's origins. It was originally going to be a duology, the first book being Gene's backstory and the second being how Gene and The Other Guy's lives intertwined. (No, they were not gay for each other! 😂) It's since changed a lot, and focuses basically exclusively on Gene, haha. The last book in the series will probably be focused on the other character, though!

Sun and Shadow started for a romance novel competition on Tapas which has since ended. I didn't get to finish it in time for a lot of reasons, but I primarily cite stress and exhaustion from working full time at a physically-intensive job. It grew shockingly quickly and I had some fans donate to me related to it, so I'm kinda forced to work on it, haha. Dw--I like it! It's just harder to work on for a number of reasons, haha.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

Tragic, the questions you're asking me--

It depends, haha. I'm autistic and hyperfixate a lot. Also, for one, that's a suuuuuper vague question??? Like what do you mean "how much time"--how much time within the day? How often in general? Idk, man, haha.

I think about the Arcane Rifts a LOT!

I've put an incredible amount of time and effort into it, and I'm in love with 90% of the characters there. Even the background characters have had a lot of work put into them, getting relatively fleshed-out backstories to make their motives understandable (even if not agreeable!), and I love them all so much, haha.

Except Katerina. She's a bitch.

I also think about Rising From the Ashes a good amount, and it's invaded my brain again lately, haha.

I took a step away from RFtA and basically all of my other stories late 2021 when Kris (my ex-writing partner) and I had a falling out. It was incredibly difficult for me emotionally to look at anything I worked with her on, and obviously RFtA was a huge one (actually, tAR was the only thing of my early works she had nothing to do with). Since early this year, I've finally been able to work on it again and it's been incredibly fun removing her stuff, actually!

I think all that is a good part of why I keep randomly getting obsessed with it again, haha. It's like looking at old friends (the characters, not Kris) and being all "omg??? I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN FOREVER??? PLEASE TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU'VE BEEN UP TO!!!" except it's removing Kris's stuff, haha.

I think about Sun and Shadow a lot more than you might expect with how much I talk about not preferring it, haha. I love the characters! Crow and, actually, Valyarus especially. They're both super interesting characters, and I'll randomly find my brain working out scenes between characters interacting with them.

(The problem with SaS is that, as a book, it's incredibly different from my usual works. It's a small cast of Frey/Crow and technically Daleira, while most of my stories focus on larger casts. It makes for a VERY different experience, and so it's a lot harder to work on)

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

Actually, I've got a ready answer for this one! Until SaS, I was dedicating my time to the Arcane Rifts and had prepared the answer:

Percy Jackson meets Lord of the Rings in a steampunk fantasy world full of ✨mysteries waiting to be uncovered✨

(I'd say the "mysteries waiting to be uncovered" part ironically/accidentally mockingly most of the time, whoops, haha. I always feel awkward advertising my works.)

It was awkward when people would get actually interested in it from there and ask more questions, haha.

To clarify: that's my tagline for the Arcane Rifts! The story has gods and demigods messing with mortals, using them as their playthings and being REALLY immature babies because they don't really face consequences for their actions like PJ. Then, it's a lot more "grounded yet fantastical" like LotR, where magic is kinda infused with reality and yet you still have issues like starving to death and whatnot.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created.  Side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

UHHHH THERE'S A LOT TO LIST???

Try this for a taste! These are just the guys I've gotten colors for!

Freya, Crow, Daleira, Valyarus, Grimnir, Soren, Gene, Tazin, Mislav, Adilzhan, Ludmila, Rada, Caspar, Nikolai, Gennadi, Oska, Rieka, Liesel, Carmin, Nora, Sammy, Kieva, Caron, Varik, Elazi, Riaan, Roman, and Tiberius! (Though Tib is getting a name change sooner or later)

Who’s the most unhinged?

Unhinged in which way? There's a lot of options there, haha.

I'm going to give honorary mentions to Valyarus, Gene in the later books, Tazin, Rieka, Gennadi, and Tiberius ! (Why does it not surprise me that most unhinged characters are from tAR? 🤣 Also I swear it's a coincidence most of the unhinged characters are red.)

(... Probably.)

In general, I'd say that, incredibly ironically, the Existence of Order is the most unhinged of all my characters. She's just incredible at hiding it.

(Tbf half of the Existentials probably belong on the "unhinged" list anyway but eh. They still don't compare to Order!)

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

I'm going to give this as a tie between Gene and Sammy!

Gene has my 'tisms and just about all of my trauma, so we have a lot in common, whoops, haha. Also there's a... very specific detail about his character that makes him easier to write in general. It's just a major spoiler. 👀

Similarly and actually identically to Gene in some ways, while Sammy has a lot in common with me, he's also incredibly perceptive! (Although we don't share that fact.)

Due to the way I write, their analytical natures allow for them to spit straight facts about the worldbuilding and the people around them rather than beating around the bush, haha. Both are highly investigative, try to learn and understand everything around them, and notice small details other characters wouldn't! It makes it much easier for me to write, because uh... well here's an example of what my outlines look like.

Long story short: I include a lot of detail which I then transfer into the POV's character narration, cutting out details which they wouldn't notice or think about, haha. In Sammy's case (which that scene has Sammy as the narrator/POV character), very little information gets cut out because he's so perceptive!

(Here, as a treat--have another example!)

(In this scene, Nikolai is the narrator. Even the outline gets "filtered" to mirror the characters' way of thinking--like it's Nikolai himself seeing Caspar as "doll-like". The crossed-out stuff is details I most likely won't mention, but noted for myself, haha. I do the same thing if/when including details about the motives and thoughts of non-narrator characters.)

Do you ever cringe at them?

Gene and Sammy?

A B S O L U T E L Y .

Gene is a wreck in basically every way and desperately needs help (that he won't get until he meets Dimitry). As much as I love him, there's a lot of moments where you just can't help but wince and be all "shit, did you REALLY have to do/say that?"

Sammy on the other hand? He's a terrified, control freak manipulator who panics the moment he feels like he's losing control of a situation. It can be painful to watch, even if simultaneously fascinating.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?  AKA, do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? To what degree? Are some less cooperative than others?

I explicitly go out of my way to add backstory to and develop each and every one of my characters until they "write themselves", haha.

I want my characters to feel like real people, so I do my absolute best to make them as real as possible. (That's part of why tAR is so massive...)

Special shoutout to Dimitry here, btw. Dude COMPLETELY screwed over the planned and intended from the earliest days path of the Arcane Rifts. I've mentioned before that Gene is villain-coded, yeah? Want to know why?

Because he was MEANT to be one! Then Dimitry had to come along, be the sweetest, nicest fucking person around to Gene while he was going through the worst part of his life, and keep Gene from slipping off the deep end!

MITRY, YOU PIECE OF--

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? And do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? For example, as Asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on AO3, etc.

I absolutely love, love, love!!! people asking questions about my characters!!! 🥰

I would absolutely prefer them as Asks sent to me, and especially would prefer if separate subjects/questions were sent in separate Asks! Like, say you were going to ask me about Gene and Dimitry. I'd rather two separate Asks, one asking for whatever you wanted to know about Gene and another for whatever you wanted to know about Dimitry, haha. However, if you wanted to ask a single question about both, that obviously is fine as a single Ask!

On writeblr engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account? Do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? Do you follow based on WIPs, or vibes?

I definitely scope out before I follow, yes.

I choose based primarily on the personality of the person behind the blog, but the WIPs/vibes can also have an influence on my decision, haha. I'd rather follow people with kind/supportive personalities, and I'll eventually start liking their stories even if they're not initially my thing!

What makes you decide against following?

Bigotry. Moment I see it, I'm on the lookout for even the slightest hint of more and, if I see it, I'm OUT!

(That includes things like: homophobia, transphobia, TERFs, ableism, racism, xenophobia, etc.)

Also, while I include angst in my stories, the people who are big on "I have nothing but bad stuff in my writing and I'm proud" are, uh... not on my "follow" list. While they can write what they want and enjoy it, grimdark is not my thing. Angst is best in moderation and I very purposely control the amount of it in my life.

(Also Kris's--my ex writing partner's--obsession with "grimdark-ness" is a good part of why I'm so ecstatic to remove her stuff from my writing. Yes, I've tried it. For years. I hated it. Please and thank you. Also note that I proudly call myself an evil writer, so it's not like I don't love angst, it's just--moderation. Seriously.)

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Yes! I think a good 50-30% of my interactions are with non-moots, haha. I go out of my way to try to support my moots, but I'll definitely share support with anything that catches my attention, no matter who it's from!

To be fair, though, I think a majority of non-moots I interact with are on my mental "probably going to follow soon" list. I can be slow to make decisions, haha. It doesn't help that I try being active with my moots, so I'm trying to avoid growing that list too quickly!

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

Haha, depends what you mean by that? My brain is definitely too full of my own characters to have any space for anyone else's, but I definitely do think of others' characters at times! There's plenty of y'alls characters I really like, haha.

Just... omg, my hyperfixated AuDHD brain refuses to focus on anything except for the Hyperfixation of the Moment™.

This was a huge one! Hopefully I'm not screaming into the void with this one, or you guys enjoy finding out more about me and my WIPs.

If you're curious about the reason this is labeled Writer Questionnaire 2... well guess what!

Tagging (gently! This is a lot, haha): @honeybewrites @yourpenpaldee @paeliae-occasionally @mysticstarlightduck @illarian-rambling @.darkandstormydolls (tagged you earlier in the post haha) + open tags!

Divider from @cafekitsune!

[marias-island-of-visitors]

After Work Soak (Open Starter)

Patty let out a harsh groan as the warm water of her bath soaked around her. It had been a long day at the clinic, and for once it wasn't due to anything sexual. The cold of winter was starting to hit the island. And while it was still warm enough to walk around naked, most new visitors weren't used to the 60-degree weather making their nipples hard as diamonds and their noses more stuffed than their pussies. It felt nice to flex her stuff as a doctor and help people feel better, and she was ready to enjoy a well-deserved rest after a long day. She was just about to let her hand wander between her legs when she heard a knock at her bathroom door. She blinked a bit, her confusion turning into concern as she looked towards the door.

"This better not be a house call, I'm already at half mass," she yelled as she pushed herself out of the bath, her body dripping with water as she swung the door open.

[eirinstiva]

“Jolly creatures, small girls, Jeeves”

Good day everybody! Last night I received the second part of "Bertie Changes His Mind" from Jeeves and I laughed so hard that I had to take some hours to write a post.

“Jolly creatures, small girls, Jeeves,” he remarked, after a pause. “Extremely so, sir.” “Of course, I can imagine some fellows finding them a bit exhausting in⁠—er⁠—” “En masse, sir?” “That’s the word. A bit exhausting en masse.”

Girls schools can be very noisy but there are less chances of being pushed by a student than in co-ed and more less than in all-boys. Trust me, I'm a scientist (?) And Jeeves knows that.

“I’d no idea small girls were such demons.” “More deadly than the male, sir.”

Yep, that's true.

“We love it when there are lectures. We sit and stare at the poor dears, and try to make them dry up. There was a man last term who got hiccups. Oh, do you think Mr. Wooster will get hiccups?” “We can but hope for the best, miss.” “It would be such a lark, wouldn’t it?” “Highly enjoyable, miss.”

Bertie, dear~ you don't know what is waiting for you! At least the girls are sitting so they look smaller and less intimidating.

The car is not working (well, it does, but Bertie doesn't know) so Wooster can't escape. Jeeves, you are a brilliant mastermind.

I’m fond of Mr. Wooster, and I admit I came very near to melting as I looked at his face. He was staring at me in a sort of dumb despair that would have touched anybody.

Aww~ Jeeves is fond of Wooster! that doesn't make your plan less naughty.

Mr. Wooster is a young gentleman with practically every desirable quality except one. I do not mean brains, for in an employer brains are not desirable. The quality to which I allude is hard to define, but perhaps I might call it the gift of dealing with the Unusual Situation. In the presence of the Unusual, Mr. Wooster is too prone to smile weakly and allow his eyes to protrude. He lacks Presence. 

I need to learn how to roast somebody in such an elegant way!

Love the illustration of this letter. You can feel the fear in Bertie. Too many girls looking at him and waiting for a speech. Sadly his valet is busy spying him repairing the car.

The cigarettes case? Jeeves has it but it's empty, the cigarettes are in hand of Peggy and her classmates. All of this is the perfect mix for a disaster, and the Woosters know how to deal with that:

“Jeeves!” “Sir?” “Get a move on! Start her up! Get going and keep going!” I trod on the self-starter. “It would perhaps be safest to drive carefully until we are out of the school grounds, sir,” I said. “I might run over one of the young ladies, sir.” “Well, what’s the objection to that?” demanded Mr. Wooster, with extraordinary bitterness. “Or even Miss Tomlinson, sir.” “Don’t!” said Mr. Wooster, wistfully. “You make my mouth water!”

This story opened the Pandora box of my memories in an all-girls school: Girls greeting as a chorus? that's was more notorius than in other co-ed schools. Speech from visitors? yeah, I saw that many times. Visitors getting nervous with a bunch of girls? yeah, that too, mostly men. Singing the school song? I still remember it. Girls stealing cigarettes? yeah, I saw that! I still remember the long reprimands to all the classroom because a teacher found a bathroom smelling like cigarettes.

At least now Bertie values more his bachelor and childless life with Jeeves at his side. Cheers!

[brokenmagxc]

@darehearts / starter call.

HOT ELECTRIFIED STEEL SQUELCHES UPON THE BLACKENED HEAP BEFORE HIM, drawing a raucous cry from the beast before it fell limp into the mud. arthur huffs, leaving his sword embedded to bone and skin as he rakes bloodstained hands through his hair. brunette locks flounder in such aggression, and he inveigles every dastardly fiber in his being not to pull at it in frustration, yanking strand by strand with ire and malice. ash and smoke charred at his lungs. his coughs echo into the sudden quiet before he spits the excess ichor from his mouth and looks about. no other beasts had followed. good - he wasn't quite sure if he had the strength for any more.

brown eyes dull on his victim ( victims, for several [ MANY ] other black masses remained seared into the floor ) watching as the contorted body now sizzles against pavement ( OTHERLY in the bones, poisonous and vengeful ). the slayer is perplexed, mainly that such an ugly wraith would wander this close to the capital. and NOT ALONE, to be exact. the monstrous spirits roamed in gaggles and, seemingly compelled, they drew dangerously close to outskirts of the city walls. it is not a common threat to these parts, that much he knows for sure. and with the thought of unusual behaviors still lingering, arthur supposes the people were lucky he was out here at all, able to handle the mess himself like any other road bump along his travels. though, the detour is mostly unappreciated ; a feeling of death looming, icy and cold as if the breath of ghosts fell harsh upon his back - he felt UNCLEAN and, in the burning of his accursed mark, he is reminded that he is running out of time.

running, running, running. he groans something vulgar and reaches for his blade again.

it is a clean exit from the monster whose black blood stains at his weapon. he wipes the vigor against his already soiled pants and sheaths himself. there were lots of other feelings he had besides fury and exhaustion ; mainly, pain in all forms, from the throbbing of his head to the singing of his lungs. the deep searing at his left side pulsates, increasing with each shift of weight as he takes a few steps back from the body at hand. his fingers draw to the wound, noting in irritancy that they will pull back with fresh, dark blood smeared across the skin. great - just, great.

hooves beating against the road catch him unawares after a long moment and, pulling himself away from thoughts of full-bodied anger ( THE AUDACITY ; and he is struggling both under stress and weariness not to unleash HELLFIRE onto the meaningless dirt below his feet ), he turns to face the open lane. someone approaches, quickly, with mighty steed in fast gait, and the best he can do is waive a red hand in the air to stop the man from passing.

“ hey !! it's dangerous here ; you should go back. ” the slayer calls hoarsely. the man slows to a meager gallop before him. the first thing he notices is the golden branding of a crest and, in bewilderment, arthur's brown eyes widen at the sight. a noble ?? out here, in the middle of nowhere ?? he does not recognize the family name ( he is not from these parts, after all - it would be hard for him to understand ) but, after a moment of silence, he realizes it actually doesn't matter who this man claimed to be. it was dangerous out here regardless, especially for a noble, and most certainly with a few more of those wraiths lingering about.

rolling his shoulders with a hushed hiss of the tongue, arthur staggers, the heat at his side violently thrashing against his ribcage. the longer he stood around thinking, the more he began to regret getting involved at all. and the headache ; he is surprised he is still on two feet as the world begins to spin around him. “ there are creatures in the night that rile in earnest, ” he mumbles a warning, cursing his sudden slur. “ you should - try to cross in the morning. ”

[justforbooks]

What in Me Is Dark by Orlando Reade

The writers, philosophers and politicians who have raided Milton’s epic poem for inspiration

In 1818 Mary Shelley published Frankenstein, the story of a man who trespasses on God’s turf by crafting a new form of life. She took its epigraph from Book X of John Milton’s Paradise Lost, when Adam rages at God like a teenager who didn’t ask to be born. Shelley returned to Milton for 1826’s The Last Man, a grim, grief-sodden read about an annihilating pandemic: “Let no man seek / Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall / Him or his children.” One novel describes the creation of life, the other its destruction, and both open with Paradise Lost.

It is no surprise that Milton’s epic figured in the genesis of science fiction. Orlando Reade suggests that it “might be the most influential poem in English”, frequently stripped for parts. In relatively recent years, it has furnished the titles of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy and Nick Cave’s Red Right Hand, influenced the collapse of the candy-pink Eden in Greta Gerwig’s Barbie and undergirded the series three finale of The Good Place, whose title, Pandemonium, is one of many Miltonic neologisms. As a young man, Milton dreamed of creating an epic poem “so written to aftertimes, as they should not willingly let it die”. That hope was fulfilled, in ways he could not have comprehended.

It is 350 years since Milton died, shortly after revising his masterpiece (the first version was published in 1667). Writing it was a heroic feat. Between 1652 and 1660, he had lost a son, a daughter, two wives, his sight, his job, his political project and almost his life. As a Cromwellian propagandist who had endorsed regicide, he was lucky to survive the Restoration. Yet in the aftermath of total defeat he still had enough energy and self-belief to not only radically expand the scope of English poetry but rewrite Genesis to tell his own story of mankind, the universe, Heaven and Hell. Milton credited a celestial muse and it’s enough to make even an atheist wonder about divine intervention. He received an advance of just £5 (less than £1,000 today) but within decades Milton was stationed beside Shakespeare at the summit of English literature.

It is Paradise Lost’s afterlife as a political document, rather than a work of art, that most interests Reade. As he ably demonstrates, writers and political activists have been raiding the text for inspiration for centuries, coming to often incompatible conclusions. Lively and humane, Reade is the friendliest of academics. Like many an English literature undergraduate, he was initially daunted by Paradise Lost (“a mountain … whose slopes are scattered with bodies”) but came to adore it while teaching poetry to prisoners, and he wants you to love it, too.

Each of the dozen chapters summarises the corresponding book of Paradise Lost and profiles a famous reader of the poem, from Thomas Jefferson and George Eliot to Max Weber and Hannah Arendt, with mixed results. The strength of the connective tissue varies and the topical analogies (Satan as tech CEO?) get a little strained. To claim that Blade Runner is “the most influential cinematic version of Paradise Lost” may be a juicy conversation-starter but to call Milton the “unacknowledged legislator … of mass incarceration” is a stretch. Still, Reade’s enthusiasm and curiosity are winning.

Milton promised to “justify the ways of God to men”, by which he meant explain how a deity that is both benevolent and omnipotent could permit so much evil and suffering. Well, he failed. And Paradise Lost is great precisely because it fails as propaganda. Written in an age of murderous polarisation, it writhes with contradictions, particularly concerning the tension between liberty and authority. As the critic William Empson observed, “the poem is not good in spite of, but especially because of, its moral confusions … I think it horrible and wonderful.”

Put briefly, Satan aspires to corrupt humanity to avenge his defeat in the war in Heaven, and God empowers his efforts in order to test Adam and Eve’s judgment: “Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.” Milton may not have intended to equate God with Charles I, or Satan with Cromwell, but his revolutionary sympathies surely explain why Satan gets most of the best lines: “Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav’n” is a slogan for the ages. In the Bible the Devil is merely an antagonist – God’s negative image – but Milton gave him a charismatic personality, and the majesty of opposition against the odds. William Blake famously observed that the poet was “of the Devil’s party without knowing it”. Milton’s God, by contrast, is a chilly authoritarian, hard to love and passionately denounced by both his enemies and his creations. Empson remarked that the deity was “astonishingly like Uncle Joe Stalin”.

Every era finds a different use for Paradise Lost. The Romantics took it primarily as a rebel yell. Even though Satan degenerates towards petty tyranny and ultimate humiliation, Percy Shelley saw him as a glamorous Promethean hero and adopted the line “Awake, arise, or be for ever fall’n” for 1812’s Declaration of Rights. American revolutionaries such as Jefferson and Paine, less keen to be aligned with the Devil, preferred to quote the stirring rhetoric while smudging its origins. “By 1776,” Reade writes, “Milton had become American.” But what kind of American? Slavery is one of Reade’s core themes. Paradise Lost was embraced by abolitionists such as James Redpath (“man over men / He made not lord”) as well as the Mistick Krewe of Comus, diehard New Orleans segregationists who twisted it into a justification of white supremacy.

Not all radicals identified with Satan’s defiance. When Malcolm X read Paradise Lost in Norfolk Prison Colony in 1948, Satan reminded him of Yakub, the evil scientist who, according to the Nation of Islam, created white people. Conservatives certainly did not. Edmund Burke found it “dark, uncertain, confused, terrible”. Jordan Peterson sees Satan as a prophecy of Enlightenment arrogance, leading to the gulag. (Everything leads to the gulag with Peterson.) During the Arab spring, an Assadist Syrian newspaper cited Paradise Lost as proof that all revolutions fail. Some of Reade’s subjects performed fascinating U-turns: CLR James initially dismissed Milton as a proto-Stalinist before deciding that the poem was in fact a vital warning about insurgents turned despots.

People love Paradise Lost for divergent reasons. Sometimes they love and hate it simultaneously. Goethe thought the poetry “majestic” but the subject “detestable”. Even the modernists, who liked to use Paradise Lost as a punchbag, were conflicted. Virginia Woolf considered it cold-hearted and misogynistic yet still “the essence, of which all other poetry is the dilution”, while TS Eliot scorned it even as he pillaged it in The Waste Land. Milton was literature’s looming patriarch, who had to be admired even when he was loathed.

Such ambivalence is the most appropriate response to Milton’s endless contradictions. Reade’s more emphatic claims undermine his pluralistic conclusion that Paradise Lost’s strength is the potency of its competing arguments, in line with Milton’s defence of free speech as the surest way to reach the truth. Yet he is confident that Milton’s heart lay with neither God nor Satan but Adam and Eve, who have the freedom to make catastrophic mistakes and, the world all before them, to decide how to live with the consequences. The ending is a new beginning.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[maccreadysbaby]

House of Wolves

batfamily + oc insert

tw: violence?

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

sevens chapters get me writing like 🏃🏼‍♀️💨

part five

❝ SOMETHING BETTER THAN BLOOD ❞

THURSDAY — APRIL 13 — 11:53PM

SEVEN WAS LABELED A FLIGHT RISK.

Therefore, he was forcibly removed from the apartment that had been given to him and was, instead, forced into a bedroom in the mansion where she lived.

It was a big place. Sitting on a hill with maybe twenty or more bedrooms, the massive victorian mansion looked straight out of old England, surrounded with a medieval wrought iron fence and situated on a constantly stormy piece of land. Time never seemed to pass there — the whole thing had a certain eerie stillness about it.

Only ten people lived in that house. Her, for starters — it was hers and she’d always been there, even when the old owner had still lived there, too. Then there was Seven, the newest inhabitant.

And then, there were the other eight.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Nine, and Ten.

She’d always kept Seven separate from them, so he’d never had the luxury of meeting any of the other people whose names had been replaced by numbers. And still, even being in the same house as them now, he hadn’t seen a soul.

He laid silently on a soft, four poster bed, in a dark room filled with lots of victorian furniture, rich with texture and saturated colors. It was dark outside, but there was a running fireplace right across from the bed that was casting a little golden light into the bedroom.

Seven would’ve called it nice, at least compared to his shabby apartment; but the iron bars on the windows and triple locks on the outside of the bedroom door sort of took away the appeal.

He was stuck in there, and he had been stuck for three sunrises and three sunsets. Not a single soul had come in or out. The door hadn’t been opened since he came in. The only sort of provisions he had was the water from the running sink in the adjoining bathroom, which he probably would’ve dehydrated to death by now without.

He wasn’t sure if she wanted him to die or if she was simply trying to weaken him, but whichever she wanted, she would get. He hadn’t eaten for the entire three days and he was starving; enough to pretty much resign him to curling up in the bundle of musty, textured pillows that sat in a heap at the top of the mattress.

He hadn’t managed to sleep much, if at all. Every time he tried, he had the same nightmare — the only dream he’d ever had, and the only one he would ever have. 

He might’ve cried about the whole thing, but he didn’t want to expend the energy. Not if he didn’t know how much longer he’d be in there.

With a soft exhale, he ran his fingers along one of the intricately beaded pillows. It was a variety of reds, oranges, pinks and yellows. It might’ve been beautiful, if it wasn’t in this place, if it wasn’t the only thing keeping him from spiraling completely.

He could feel tiredness creeping up on him again — not that sleeping would change anything. But the fireplace sitting across from the bed was crackling minutely, and the flames were dancing so soothingly that he found his eyes closing anyhow. 

Was this how the last few days of his life were going to go? Falling asleep and waking up again until, eventually, he didn’t? Until he starved to death and they had to come get a fresh corpse off of the old victorian bed?

He was nearly asleep again when there was an array of sounds at the door — metal on metal, clinking, jingling. He hardly had time to open his eyes before the door swung open.

The hallway lights were on, and there was a black silhouette there. A mass of black robes that revealed nothing underneath. 

“Hello, Seven,” Her voice came, smooth and silky and sweet. 

Seven didn’t even move. He simply looked at her from where he lay, trying to decide if she was coming to help him or if she was about to kill him for betraying her. Or maybe mock him for a moment and close the door again.

She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her in slow, predictable movements.

“Sorry for the delay,” She said, though Seven was pretty sure she’d planned to keep him in there and wasn’t sorry at all. “I got caught up in a few things.”

Seven said nothing.

“Come on, sit up,” She said, moving toward him, the massive black cloak settling a few feet away from the bed. “I merely want to speak with you.”

With an exhale, he did. He sat up and scooted over to the edge of the bed, dangling his legs off the side and saying nothing. He didn’t even look at her.

“Don’t be so tense,” She spoke. She came a bit closer, and Seven felt her hand brush away some of the hair that had fallen down on his forehead. He was so tired and weak that he decided it almost felt good. “It’s only me. You know me.”

Seven didn’t even look up at her.

“I just want to ask you a few questions,” She said, still running her hand through his hair. She stepped away a few seconds later, and the lack of contact left him feeling oddly cold.

“You used to be my most faithful, loyal companion, Seven. When all of the other ones like you disobeyed me and tried their hands at escape, you were always by my side,” She spoke with a certain tone in her voice that sounded almost nostalgic, pacing the room in front of him, only a few steps in each direction before she turned again. “All I want to know is what happened.”

Seven looked down at his feet. 

“I sent you to complete a job, and for the first time, you didn’t,” She continued. “In fact, you did the complete opposite. What did Beniah Ivanov say to you, Seven?”

Seven swallowed thickly.

“Tell me, Seven. How did the conversation go?” She asked, coming forward a few more steps. Her soft demeanor seemed to flee and she slammed a fist against on of the bed posts, shaking the whole thing. “What did he tell you?!”

“My name,” Seven spoke weakly. 

Her anger quieted, and she took a step back. “Your name from before should hold no place inside of you.”

“I… I know. But…” He mumbled to himself. “I never knew it, so… when he said it… I was shocked.”

“So he told you your name to pause you in your tracks,” She said, and she started pacing again. “And what else?”

“He told me about… when I was a baby,” Seven continued softly. “About how he was so excited for me to be born, and that he… never wanted to stop carrying me around.”

“So he was manipulating you,” She stated simply.

“What?” Seven questioned, glancing up at her. “No… no, he was-“

“Crying?” She asked with a toxic sounding laugh. “Lots of people cry when they’re trying to talk themselves out of dying.”

Seven’s words died in his throat.

“What else did he tell you, Seven?” 

Seven said nothing, and she stepped closer. 

“Seven,”

“He showed me…” Seven breathed deep and shook his head, blinking twice. “He told me I was only your slave. And that you didn’t care about me or anyone else. That you were just making me do the work you can’t do.”

She laughed again, a bubbly, venomous sound. “You know that’s not true.”

Seven looked down at his feet. She took pause.

“You do know that’s not true, Seven,” She said, stepping closer. “I gave you a home. I keep you in a special place by my side no one else has ever reached. I trust you,” She spoke lowly. “You know me more than anyone else. You know I care about you. You’re my friend.”

Seven didn’t say anything… he only looked into the blackness under the hood of the cloak. And then he looked down. 

“Sometimes you… hurt me,” He said slowly, carefully, like she might lash out and strike him just for that. At the statement, the small cut that was scabbed on his left cheek seemed to throb for a second.

“I don’t hurt you, Seven,” She said gently. “I discipline you, because I care about you. Just like a parent punishing their child. It may feel like pain at the time, but I do it because I know it will make you into a stronger, better person. You know as well as anyone that I only punish you when you’ve done something worth punishing. I can count on one hand how many times you’ve gone against my word.”

Seven simply looked down at his feet. 

“Did he say anything else?” She questioned, stepping back and pacing the room again. 

A beat of silence passed.

“He told me…” Seven swallowed thick, a sudden burn prickling at his eyes. “He said he…”

She stopped in front of him, her hood drawing closer like she was listening intently.

“Go on,” She spoke gently. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Seven bit the inside of his cheek in a bid to make the tears stop gathering in his eyes, but it didn’t really work.

“Whatever he said hurt you,” She assumed. “Or perhaps… the opposite.”

Seven shook his head. “He said he… loved me.”

The black mass of cloak stepped away for a second. She looked over at the fireplace, as if deep in thought, and then she sighed.

Slowly, she reached forward with both hands and unclasped the front of the cloak, letting the mass of fabric fall to the hardwood floor.

Beneath it was a girl Seven had only seen a handful of times. Pretty, with long dark hair and big brown eyes. She was wearing an old style dress, blood red and long, a velvety looking fabric with gold embroidered adornments along the bell sleeves and bottom hem. She had big red crystal earrings dangling from her ears, and a necklace and ring to match. Her lipstick was dark red.

“He may be your brother by blood,” She said softly, coming just a bit closer to him. “But he doesn’t love you. He was just trying to get in your head, to twist your mind and make you think twice about doing your job. He doesn’t know anything about you. He hasn’t seen you in twelve years, how could he possibly love you?”

Seven didn’t say anything, but his eyes stung more, so he looked down.

“He was manipulating you to save his own life,” She continued. “If he really cared about you, and he was really concerned about how I treat you, don’t you think he would’ve tried to get you out of my grasp instead of letting you walk right back into it?”

Seven said nothing. She came closer, kneeling down in front of him so her face was in his line of sight. 

“I’ve been the one taking care of you for your whole life, Seven. Not him. He doesn’t know you. I do. He isn’t allowed to say he loves you because he doesn’t know if he does or not,” She explained softly. One of her hands drifted up to rest on Seven’s cheek and, when she didn’t have the cloak on, it didn’t feel as scary. He couldn’t help but lean into it in his weakened and emotional state. “I want to know why you’re crying, Seven. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Seven’s eyes drifted back down to his feet. “I…” He tried to blink away the tears but they fell instead. “I don’t know.”

He felt her thumb rake one of his tears away. “Well. There is something I do know.”

Seven looked up at her, and she had a smile pulling up on each side of her mouth. She never smiled.

“He saw you once as an infant, and didn’t care about your wellbeing for a second afterwards. He claims you’re being used, but he never tried to get to you. He never put a shred of effort into you…” She mumbled, smile brightening just a little bit. “And he says he loves you. If he can love you after all of that, then think of how much I, the one who always looked after you, who's been with you, who’s cared about you endlessly for your entire life… think about how much that means I love you.”

Seven sobbed.

She sat up onto her knees and coaxed him into a hug. He didn’t really hug her back, his hands stayed in his lap, but he did let his head fall down onto her shoulder, and he let his tears flow more freely there. 

“I know it hurts, but you don’t need him,” She said softly. One of her hands was smoothing down the hair on the back of his head. “We all want our family to love us, yes, but we can’t despair over it if they don’t. We just have to find something better than blood. And I think we already have.”

Seven said nothing, but pressed his head further into her shoulder.

For a few minutes, she let him cry.

“Now,” She breathed. “I bet you’re starving. I wished to speak to you sooner, but a few other things demanded my attention.”

She pulled out of the embrace and smiled faintly at him, both of her hands coming up to rest on either side of his face for a split second before she stood, grabbing her cloak and clasping it around her shoulders again. She left her hood off this time. 

“Come on, I’ll take you down to the dining room,” 

Seven followed her without much thought.

He followed her along a long, carpeted hallway, lined with bedroom doors, down a massive curling staircase, and through a lavish entryway, his eyes sticking on the various huge pieces of art and sculptures that seemed to be everywhere. They turned through a large cased opening, and inside was a dining room.

It was all a dark wood, with a massive, long table in the center, a crackling fireplace on the wall opposite to the door, and victorian style furnishings and finishing all around. 

“Alright. Come sit,” She stated. She moved to the head of the table nearest to the fireplace and pulled out the chair, so Seven sat, silently. “There is… one more order of business I have to attend to, now that you’re living among the other eight. But right after, I’ll have my maids fix you food, whatever you like, and as much as you want.”

Seven glanced over his shoulder at her. She was looking at the fireplace, the flames flickering in her brown eyes.

“Because you’re now technically a part of the same group as them, you need their mark. Just for official purposes, nothing to do with you,” She muttered. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t get one at all. But you must. Just know, that getting this mark doesn’t change anything between me and you, alright? It’s just a routine procedure that holds no merit in our relationship.”

Seven wasn’t sure what she was talking about. He guessed it was something the other people with names like his had to do, but he’d never met them, so he wasn’t sure what it was. “…Okay?”

She turned away from him, toward one of the dining room entrances that seemed to lead to a kitchen, saying something in a language he didn’t understand. What did they speak in South Africa? Afrikaans? 

A man in a butler’s uniform came in at her call. She said something else, but Seven didn’t know what.

She moved up next to the chair he was in, and the butler went to the fireplace, pulling what looked like a fire poker out of it. At the end was a large, flat piece, with metal protruding from it in the shape of words. The whole thing was red hot.

With a start, he realized what the mark must’ve been.

“No,” He gasped, looking back up at her, tears already springing to his eyes at the thought of the searing pain. “No. Please, Red, please.”

“It’s alright,” She spoke. The butler pulled his chair away from the table with a screech along the floor, and Seven almost flew out of it. 

“Look straight down,” The butler ordered.

“No,” He sobbed. “Red, please-“

“It’s alright, Seven,” She said, kneeling down in front of him, taking both of his hands in hers. “It’ll only last a moment. I’m right here.”

“No-“

The butler shoved Seven’s head down roughly, and he sobbed, squeezing Red’s hands as tight as he possibly could.

The burning metal came in contact with the back of his neck, and he wasn’t even conscious long enough to hear himself scream.

—

Once Seven was unconscious, the butler carefully put the metal back into the fireplace, stealing a glance at the perfectly sized ‘SLAVE’ that was red and irritated, burned onto the back of his neck.

With a long sigh, Red stood, wiggling her hands out of the boy’s with a cringe. “Take him up to his room, and leave him with some food,” She ordered blankly, every trace of care or gentleness that had been on her face mere moments ago completely vanished. 

“I told him I loved him, made him cry. He won’t be leaving anytime soon,” She spoke. “Children who crave love cave the quickest.”

The butler merely nodded, gathered Seven into his arms, and left the room.

“Oh, and-“ She started, glancing back at him. “Leave him a note from me that says something sweet, and that I had something I had to do. I don’t feel like thinking about it right now.”

The butler bowed with a nod, and left the room with the boy bundled up in his arms.

—

tag list that KINDA works

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy @bookwarm0-0

@custommadeazula

[adventures-written]

No one disturb a sick Plant and his snuggy.

Damn disgusting humans.

[ageless-aislynn]

Angst! 16

Fluff! 13

Misc.! 16

And… for characters I’m going to throw out Kai, Alenko, and Soap. Do whatever pairings or friendships you’d like. Also I’m not gonna die if you choose not to use those characters. Or prompts. I dunno, I just wanna read your stuff man.

*glee* Thank you SO much for sending some prompts my way! These are all pretty short but mark my first time writing 2 of the 3 characters, so I'm just carefully dipping a toe in the COD and ME pools, lol!

Thanks so much again! 😎👍

Angst 16. “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish & Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Then why are there bruises all over your face?"

"You ought to see the other guy, Lt," Soap said with an unrepentant grin, unmarred by the fact his left eye was nearly swollen shut and he had a prominent cut on his lower lip.

Ghost sighed slightly behind his skull balaclava. "Sure I'll recognize him by all the bruises on his knuckles," he said dryly.

Fluff 13. Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Kaidan Alenko/Commander Shepard, Mass Effect (reader's choice as to whether it's male or female Shep 😉)

"Are you flirting with me?"

"You finally noticed?"

Kaidan squinted, several Commander Shepards swimming in front of him in the dim bar lighting, all wearing fondly amused expressions.

"You are flirting with me!" he stated as if having uncovered a core secret of the universe.

Shepard's smile broadened. "Think it's time to take you home and tuck you into bed."

"I'm going home with Cmdr. Shepard," he proclaimed loudly to the crowd around them. Several people raised a glass in good-natured salutes.

"Yeah, they know." Shepard got an arm around him, sliding him off the bar stool and onto his feet. "Most of them were at our wedding, after all."

Misc 16. “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

Kai-125 & Vannak-134, Halo the series

"YOU SAID TO BE HONEST, STOP HITTING ME!"

John heard Kai's shout from the hallway outside of the Spartan quarters and shoved the door open to see—

He blinked. For a solid moment, he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing, actually. Kai vaulted over her own bed, being pursued hotly by Vannak.

"That wasn't honest," he said grimly. "You're just being mean."

"Look, it's not my fault that that penguin documentary was kinda lame and—"

"IT WAS NOT!" Vannak bellowed back and took a swing at her that would've definitely put a marine in the infirmary for a month, if not in the ground, permanently. For Kai, it would've at the very least mussed her hair. "Those penguins are adorable and—"

"Lame. Laaaaaame," she singsonged, ducking a flurry of punches, then doing a very impressive parkour run up the wall into a backflip that sent her soaring over the enraged Spartan's head.

"THEY'RE NOT LAME, YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

John looked over at Riz, who was calmly sitting at a nearby table, reading something on her padd. She met his gaze, shrugged, and then went back to reading.

They crisscrossed the room rapidly, with Vannak coming close to getting his hands on her but, ultimately, Kai would manage to slip away at the last second. The entire time, she continued to issue penguin insults that, for some reason, the other Spartan took extremely personally.

John opened his mouth, about to say… something. Then he gave a slight shake of his head.

"I have paperwork to do," he announced to no one. "Don't I, Cortana?"

"I can find you some, Chief."

"That would be great," he said and just turned around and walked away.

Sentence Starters

[failbhe]

closed starter for @masterxtiernan

It’d been some time since Cían had been in the company of Tiernan Hollaran. When he’d been selected as Ireland’s councilman following the switch over, Cían had been present in Dublin’s castle serving on the reserves for the guards, in between jobs as hired muscle and too curious to pass up the opportunity to check out the fresh meat swanning around the place as it's supposed rightful heir in some form or another. Cían had appraised him from above in the balconies amongst the gaggle of equally curious staff and formed his judgements but had made no attempt to introduce himself, instead making himself scarce as soon as the opportunity presented itself. He’d recognised Tiernan’s scent before he’d laid eyes upon him and though he’d spent the vast majority of his wartime years in a feral state with little clear recollection of events, he remembered Tiernan a little too well. 

He’d made numerous attempts on the ghoul’s life on the battlefield, each one rebuffed and resulting in Kaden’s aid to pull him back around after getting himself out just before things got perilous. The game of cat and mouse hadn’t been intentional; Cían had wanted him dead at first. Over time, however, when it was clear victory was straying further and further from the fae side’s grasp, Cían had just been glad to have something to pass the time until the inevitability of his capture finally came. Whether Tiernan had been involved in it, Cían couldn’t recall. It wasn’t like it mattered, it wasn’t as if it changed anything. It was a sentence worse than death regardless of which scumbag was calling the shots.

He hadn’t expected to cross paths with Tiernan so soon after settling into the village but considering that his employer was a colleague of Halloran’s, he really should’ve braced himself for the reunion he’d half-dreaded, half-eagerly anticipated for far longer than he should’ve following the end of the war. Having been dragged into Euphoria to help the bar staff with a last minute stock count before doors opened for the night, Cían’s attention was immediately drawn to the club’s doors being opened as one of many of the night’s arrogant bastards thought they could wander on in whenever they felt like it regardless of what the signage read outside. “Oi,” Cían barked, dumping his armful of boxed straws onto the bar and turning to wander over to block the path of the intruder, Tiernan’s unmistakable scent hitting him a moment too late to halt the interrogation now that it was in motion. “Doors aren’t open to the masses, VIPs included, for another twenty minutes, councilman. De Luca didn’t say a word ‘bout expecting you early, either. Gotta ask you to turn it around and bless us with your dazzling company just a little later in the evening. It's club policy.”

[shimmerbeasts]

So, I have been meaning to make a starter call or open starters. However, given how dead my head is in terms of open starts, consider this like a mass starter call for the following muses:

BONUS TESTING MUSES

Felicitas [House Unknown/Deceased], Bard/Warlock, was promised to a Great Old One as an infant, (former) Serf to House Baenre, was exiled from the Underdark for allegedly causing a massive accident, which killed several high-ranking house members, is still hunted by assassins to this day.

Ammit, Dark Urge Dragonborn, possibly Arcane Trickster Rogue/Fighter, heavily underdeveloped muse, currently only concept idea: Bhaal created the most un-noble Dragonborn in existence, has more in common with an actual black dragon than her actual kin.

Please like and comment on which muse you want a starter for. Fair warning: When it comes to Felicitas and Ammit, I will be very selective.

[grimmusings]

a permanent starter call for my alien!verse muses.

☠️ Brock Rumlow (Marvel/MCU) A no-powers AU where Rumlow is a mercenary sent to capture and contain the Xenomorphs for study and mass weaponization. His priorities may change when they start attacking the crew (but you never really know with him). 🚀 Chris Beck (The Martian) Set during Alien, Beck is the medical doctor and EVA specialist aboard the Nostromo when it goes to investigate a distress signal and discovers the Xenomorphs. 👽 Dwayne Hicks (Aliens) A Marine Corporal who is part of the team sent to LV-426 to investigate the colonies' lack of contact and Ripley's claims about the Xenomorphs, he ultimately escapes. His primary objective is to keep the aliens from spreading. 📚 Harrison Darcy (OC) An archeologist who discovers traces of the Engineers on Earth and boards the Prometheus to search for the origins of humanity. His primary objective is knowledge. 💪 Hercules Alcides (Greek Mythology) Set during Aliens, a no-powers AU where Herc is a Marine Corporal who is part of the team sent to LV-426 to investigate the colonies' lack of contact and Ripley's claims about the Xenomorphs. 🏴‍☠️ James Hook (Peter Pan) Captain of any of the ships that accidentally (or purposefully) discover the Xenomorphs. His primary objective is protecting the crew. 🎄 Janek (Prometheus) Captain of any of the ships that accidentally (or purposefully) discover the Xenomorphs. His primary objective is to keep the aliens from spreading at any cost. 🤖 Red (The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys) Science officer and an android with a fondness for humans aboard any of the ships. Her primary objective is protecting the crew. ⌨️ Samantha Cooper (OC) A programmer who's worked heavily with androids and MU-TH-UR, she's a science officer aboard any of the ships that accidentally (or purposefully) discover the Xenomorphs. Her primary objective is survival. ⚡ Thor Odinson (MCU) After the defeat of Thanos, Thor discovers an Asgardian ship has been attacked by Xenomorphs and sets out across space to hunt and kill them before they can infiltrate more worlds. 🧪 Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein) Chief science officer aboard any of the ships that accidentally (or purposefully) discover the Xenomorphs. His primary objective is studying the species. 🛸 Walter (Alien: Covenant) An android aboard the Covenant, who ultimately fails in his mission to protect the crew and is left behind on Planet 4. His primary objective is to protect humanity. 🎲 Surprise me!

may dm for plots / may just be chaos. feel free to specify your muse, or i’ll try to leave it open-ended!

(comments only; i’ll assume a like is just you being supportive, and i’ll promptly forget a message.)

mutuals given priority.

[atenea14]

Chapter 1: A New Path

In the Wake of Heroes

Soulmates AU

Pairing: Katsuki x Eijiro x Shoto x Izuku x OC (not physically described though)

Warnings: Season 7 spoilers, events of the anime not represented accurately, soulmates AU, slow burn, not beta read, nothing else for now.

Word count: 5.4k

Previous chapter Masterlist

This is Amemiya Noa, in a dramatic turn of events, the combined forces of our top heroes have successfully subdued the notorious villains All For One and Shigaraki Tomura. The battle, which raged across the country, saw intense clashes that pushed both heroes and villains to their limits. While the victory marks a significant triumph for justice, it comes at

Someone turns off the TV, while everybody is glad the nightmare is coming to and end nobody feels like celebrating while waiting in the waiting room of the hospital reserved for heroes. 

Saya’s POV: 

My muscles feel like they weigh nothing yet all my body feels heavy and I cannot move, I’m not sure how that even makes sense. I want to open my eyes but I’m too stunned to react, someone comes and goes because I hear voices although I can’t understand what they’re saying. It’s too much and I fall back into my slumber without even noticing. 

The next time I recover consciousness I’m able to open my eyes and slowly take in my surroundings, it looks like I’m in a hospital room. Someone speaks and it takes me a while to realise that is my father who’s calling for a doctor. It is not until that night that I fully recover control and I’m able to sit up in bed, dad fills me in, we’ve won, well for now. Their villain network needs to be fully dismantled and I’m already itching to be a part of the investigation team, it was the deal I made with the national agency in exchange for my intervention. I also get notified that some heroes have been severely injured and some have had their limbs torn off. A couple of doctors approach me to know if I’d be willing to try and completely regenerate the limbs with my dual quirk and I find myself as excited to do that as I am to help intel services. The next couple of days pass quickly, luckily my injuries could be healed thanks to Recovery Girl and I could focus on experimenting with the doctors on limb regeneration. 

Some days later an announcement was made to the heroes involved.

Thanks to Saya's quirk, we can now fully regenerate human limbs. The procedure will involve her healing abilities to precisely repair and reconstruct damaged tissues and bones, complemented by advanced regenerative technology that supports cellular integration and function. This approach will restore not only the physical structure but also the functional capabilities of the limb. We anticipate that patients will achieve full recovery and regain complete limb functionality within 4 to 8 months, depending on the injury's severity and individual healing response. 

I frown upon hearing the cheerful voices of the doctors.

- It sounds amazing but… it’s still completely experimental, we’re going to experiment with living persons, what if I end up creating an amorphic mass of human tissue? -

- The heroes will be warned and their participation in the program is voluntary. Actually we already have the first candidate. - I change my weight from one foot to the other and slightly tilt my head. 

- Who?- The doctor gives me a soft smile. 

- Curiously enough, your favourite hero who now claims she’s your number one fan, Mirko - My heart starts to race thinking I’ll be able to really talk to her and by the expressions of the doctors I haven’t concealed my excitement at all. 

- Come on let’s go see her. - 

I follow them to her hospital room, there’s a lot of people in the hallway and I can see a bunch of famous heroes roaming around but I don’t care a lot about them at the moment, the fact that my first patient will be her makes me have crippling anxiety. 

It has to go well. But she’s really injured, it is a difficult case for starters, what were they thinking? Someone with a minor injury like a lost finger would be more appropriate. Oh my god what am I going to do? 

- Hey kid, don’t tell me I scare you more than Shigaraki? You looked fearless back then but now you’re as white as my hair.- What? I focus my gaze again and realise Mirko is in a bed in front of me and everybody is looking at me. 

- Uhm… No I…- The head doctor lightly pats me on the back and smiles. 

- She’s a great fan of yours so she must be nervous. - I somehow manage to regain my composure and interrupt the small talk they are all making. 

- That’s not true. - A dead silence follows my statement and I realise how it must have sounded. - I mean, I am your fan and I am excited to meet you but I’m worried about the procedure. I’m aware you’ve given your informed consent but the extent of your injuries is one of the most severe so starting with your case is probably not the best idea. - 

- That’s fine I don’t have much to lose and if you can heal me you’ll surely be ready to care for the rest of the injured ones so you’ll learn a lot with me. - Mirko gives me a big smile while she points a finger at herself. 

- But…- 

- Well, Saya’s concern is valid. That's why we will start with your hands, move to other heroes and once the procedure succeed has been confirmed we’ll try with your leg. Does that sound good to everybody?.- Mirko agrees and the medical staff leaves to start preparing the room. 

- Come, sit with me.- Mirko points to the bed with her head and I do what she wants. - Come on, don't be so stiff, I… You don’t know how much you mean to me right now. Your presence on the battlefield has been crucial. I'm sure there would have been irreparable damage if it weren’t for you. And now I have the hope of a second chance because you have a crazy quirk. If this ends in disaster I’ll still be eternally glad, so just do your best and don’t worry about anything else, yes?.- Once she stops speaking I look at her and she starts laughing, if I was blushing before now I’m cosplaying a tomato. I exhale, chuckle a little and nod.

- Okay. It will go well. - 

- Of course it will! You’re really cute I promise to give you a bone crushing hug as soon as I can. - I smile to myself. 

- Or we could fight.- She gets confused and I point at myself, then at her - You, me and a training ring.- I smile and nod while she bursts laughing. 

- It’s a promise. - A nurse enters the room and says that the room is ready. 

This first session has been exhausting, a lot of hours have passed and we’ve managed to reconstruct one of her hands, the doctors say it looks good so I’m thriving but I’m so tired… my eyes can’t seem to focus and while I lose my balance I feel a sharp pain. 

- Hello! Good evening sleeping beauty. - What? I center my gaze and realise that the white blurr is Mirko who’s sitting by my bed. 

- What are you doing here? You should be resting.- 

- And I am resting! I just happen to do so by your side. You fainted after the operation was finished, it seems your body is still too weak to endure a prolonged use of your quirk without consequences so the rest of your interventions have been postponed. -

- I see. And how are you feeling? - 

- It’s really weird, I’ll still need some sessions with the surgeons for my hand to be ready and then I’ll need physiotherapy but I’ve been told that the evolution is favourable so far so I’m really happy! - I smile at her.

- Your energy is contagious, I already feel better. Thanks for making me company. - 

- Don’t thank me, is the least I could do. By the way your father has been here all day but about an hour ago he had to leave for work. He's an agent of some kind, isn't he? - 

- Yes, he is. He works in national security. - 

- Oh, that explains why his colleagues were borderline harassing him for coming in to work. They are overwhelmed with work right now. Well, don’t worry I won’t go anywhere. -

An hour later Mirko has fallen asleep in the wheelchair it doesn’t look comfortable so I ask a nurse to get her to her room. Taking advantage of the fact that I'm alone, I go to the hospital food machine, I'm a bit hungry and it will be good to stretch my legs. I move slowly because my whole body still hurts, the corridors are still as lively as yesterday and today I do pay attention to the stares I'm attracting yet I ignore them all. Luckily the food machine is in a much quieter corner so I can stand up, lean against the wall and sigh deeply as I bring a hand to my chest. The walk is proving to be more strenuous than I thought. Once my heart rate has slowed down I just walk over to the machine and stare at it, trying to decide what I want to eat. Someone clears his throat behind me and I'm startled out of my wits. I haven't heard anyone approaching so I turn around abruptly and because of that the stabbing pain runs through me again and I lose my balance. 

Someone clears his throat behind me and I'm startled out of my wits. I haven't heard anyone approaching so I turn around abruptly and because of that the stabbing pain runs through me again and I lose my balance. Immediately I feel many hands grabbing me so that I don't fall, at that moment I feel a torrent of energy enveloping us and a blinding light appears in our midst. The hands grip me tighter and after a few seconds I come to my senses. I look around me and see four guys just as confused as I am, I recognise two from the battlefield. They are all very close to me, still holding me. I lean on the arm of one of them to regain my stability. 

- Ahm... thanks I guess? Have you used your quirk?-  They all look at me completely confused and slowly let go of me. 

- I thought it was you. - A boy with red hair looks at me very intensely. 

- I didn't activate my quirk. -They also deny having used their powers. 

- So what was that? - This time the boy with heterochromia speaks. 

- Are you all idiots or what? - That's the guy I fought Shigaraki with, the one with a knack for explosions. I stare at him in confusion, why is he being so rude?

- Kacchan... - The other guy I fought with tries to calm him down. 

- You've noticed it too, haven't you? How can they be so slow? - Oh... oh no, no no no no no. It's not possible. This wasn’t a soulmate activation moment was it? Is this a bad thing? Is this a good thing? But it's very unexpected and which one of them is my soul mate? Are all four of them? What's supposed to happen now? Oh, my anxiety is getting out of control again. Too many emotions in such a short time, I need some fresh air. 

- Oh stop it Katsuki. - 

- Ah? You don’t tell me what to do shit hair. - 

- Are you alright? - The green haired boy and the one with heterochromia look at me concerned while the red hair smacks ‘Katsuki’ on the back of his head.

- Look at her you dumbass. - The moment is getting more chaotic by the second and we had attracted a small crowd. I turn around so I can get out of there but again I get a pinch and my knees give out, I feel them grabbing me again but this time it's only the people who weren't arguing who help me. 

- Are you OK, can you hear us? - The boy I fought with is the one who asks me. 

- Yeah just... I just need some fresh air. I want to go outside. - I finally manage to speak and in a moment I'm being pulled up in some arms princess style. 

- Kacchan be careful! - 

- I have it but she said she wants to get out of here and clearly she can't walk. I'm just going to carry her. - He stops talking for a second and stares at me very intently. - Is it okay if I carry you?- I stare dumbfounded for a few seconds until I nod. 

After that everyone starts to walk and we get closer to the small crowd, I don't know where to put myself, I'm ashamed to call attention this way, without noticing I grab the boy's t-shirt, I clench my fist and I hook as much as I can to him. In response he pulls me tighter to him and looks at me as he keeps walking. 

- Look at me. The others are just extras. - It's incredibly self-centered, but it's still comforting. 

- Shoto - 

- Not now father. - 

Before I know it we’re all in the back garden of the hospital. The area is suspiciously empty but I don’t pay much attention to it. He gently sets me down on a bench and I take the moment to bask in the soft rays of the afternoon sun. I’m completely calmed now. 

- I’m sorry I… - The green haired boy frantically moves his hands in a negative moment. 

- No no no it’s okay… It’s been a shock for us as well. - We all fall into a weird silence before the guy with heterochromia breaks it. 

- So… That was really…? - He clears his throat. - I mean… We’re soulmates right? 

- Yes - Katsuki speaks in a more softer voice. - Are you feeling any better? - 

- Yes, I am thank you. - I give him a soft smile and he just nods and averts his eyes. 

- What do we do now? - The red haired boy asks but nobody answers straight away. My voice makes them all look back at me again making my nervousness increase. 

- Uhm… I don’t know what we should do but I’d like to know your names. - I fidget with my hands while talking. The smiles that the red and green haired guys give me ease my nerves. 

- Of course! I’m Midoriya Izuku, my hero name is Deku and I study at the UA, well we all do. - Before I can answer he starts rumbling a lot of information but luckily the other bubbly guy puts a hand in his shoulder and interrupts him. 

- That’s fine Izuku. My name is Kirishima Eijiro also known as Red Riot but I’d like you to call me by my given name, not but my hero one. - I gently smile at him but my attention is quickly diverted. 

- I’m Todoroki Shoto, my hero name is also Shoto so you don’t have much choice. - That makes me chuckle. 

- Really? You weren’t inspired at all? - He gives me a soft smile.

- I couldn’t imagine myself being called something else than my name. - 

- Well I like it, it’s a pretty name. - Shoto blushes while Eijiro points at himself. 

- What do you think about my name? - 

- It’s pretty too and your hero name really matches your style. - He grins even more. 

- Right? Is so man…- The one who carried me interrupts him by putting one hand in his face. 

- I’m Bakugo Katsuki also called Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. - That surprises me and I chuckle while answering.

- That’s surprisingly long. - 

- And literally nobody calls him that, his hero name is just Dynamight. - Katsuki frowns at this and clenches his fist.

- Ah? Do you want to pick a fight shit hair? - Eijiro doesn’t seems to mind the moniker and starts bickering with him. The situation is so transcendental in our lives yet the moment is being so stupid I cannot help it and I burst out laughing out loud, they all stare at me and they chuckle a little while Katsuki seems to pout. 

- I’m sorry I… My name is Yukine Saya and I don’t have a hero name because I don’t want to be one. - They all look at me as if I had grown another head.

- Too late for you then. - I tilt my head at Katsuki not understanding. - You should have thought of that before throwing yourself in the middle of the battle of the century. - 

- Well but that doesn’t make me a hero. I was just doing what I was asked to do. - 

- But you put yourself in danger to help other people! That’s what heroes do, you don’t need anything else to be one. - Izuku seems really agitated for some reason, his statement confuses me but I don’t pay much attention to it.

- Anyway I’m not planning on making any public appearances so people won’t know me. - They all look at me with somber faces. 

- And would that be a bad thing? For people to know you? - Shoto quietly asks. 

- Yes, it would interfere with my life goals. - 

- And what are those? - This time it is Izuku who asks. 

- I’d like to enter the interpol, as an agent and center my career pursuing serial killers and organised crime so I need an anonymous identity. - Their stern hardens more. - What? Is there a problem? - They look at each other not knowing what to say until Izuku speaks.

- Well… you’ll see your achievements and your face are all over the internet. People love you… - 

- What? For real? Has a lot of people seen it? - 

- It’s gone completely viral. I’m sorry. - Although Katsuki speaks in a gentle voice his attempt fails at making this better for me. The anxiety that had dissipated suddenly comes back only that is worse this time and I cover my face with my hands while I bend down to rest my head between my knees. 

- It’s alright… we are with you now. - Someone rubs my back and after some time I raise my head and I wipe some tears with my hands. 

- I’m fine, don’t worry. - I realise that Eijiro has sat down by my side and he’s the one caressing me.

- Don’t lie, you are shaking. You aren’t fine. - I haven’t realised I was shaking until Katsuki pointed it out. 

- It’s just… this weeks have been crazy and I just have a lot of emotions to process. It’s alright. - Katsuki frowns at me. 

- No it’s not, your dream has been jeopardised, that's not ok and you can be sincere about it. I know I'd be losing it. - 

- I’m… - I find myself dumbfounded and start shaking more. Katsuki sits on my other side and he an Eijiro hug me tightly. I didn’t realise how much I needed a hug until that moment and I start sobbing, my breathing becomes more ragged by the moment. Izuku kneels down before me and gently places a hand on one knee an rubs it while Shoto approaches me and caresses the top of my head while he keeps standing. He softly rearranges my hair so it’s not in my face and caresses my cheek. I feel overwhelmed with all the sudden attention but I also feel a weird sense of calmness. Nobody says anything until my anxiety attack calms down and now I’m just whimpering. 

- Oh my what a great first impression I’m giving. - All of them squeeze me tighter upon hearing me. 

- Well you did give us a hell of a first impression kicking Shigaraki’s ass. - I look at Katsuki and he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. 

- That’s true! So don’t worry about today, we understand. - Know my focus is on Izuku, he has such a gentle gaze. He looks like a puppy. 

- I know it’s a lot to process but I think you can still achieve your dreams but maybe not in the way you expected. - I look at Shoto.

- What do you mean? - I lightly tilt my head to the side and accidentally head bump Eijiro. - Ouch, I’m sorry.- I rub my head while apologising, he just laughs. 

- That’s fine! I’m unbreakable, a meak bump won’t do me anything! - Izuku is not the only one with golden retriever energy. I gently smile at him while he grins at me. 

- I think Icy Hot is right. - 

- Yes! Heroes save people so you can still work in that field, plus that’s teamwork and there are a lot of positions needed to be filled so there’s more than the anonymous agent one. - My heart beat starts to calm down, what they are saying makes sense. 

- And you still can go undercover missions, if needed you’ll find a way. There’s a lot of technology and some people have quirks that alter appearances. In a big agency there is probably someone who has an ability like that. - Of course, how silly of me. 

- So I just need to readapt my plans to find a new path to achieve it…- They all grin at me and Katsuki pats my head. 

- Yes! And now we are here to help you too. - Katsuki keeps cheering me up. 

- You know you can learn a lot by being a hero so it would be really beneficial for you! - Izuku starts rumbling again about training and the UA. - Oh by the way I don’t understand how your quirk works. It’s a combined one isn’t it? It seems amazing! - He keeps looking at me with hopeful eyes and I’m aware that all of them are extremely curious about my answer but I just look down and fidget with my hands. 

- Uhm… I’m not supposed to talk about it. I’m… a lot of people close to me have close relationships with security agencies and so some things happened and my quirk is now confidential… I’m sorry… I’ll… I’ll ask if I can tell you. - I don’t dare to look back up. 

- We understand, it’s okay. We’ve just met after all, let’s not rush anything. - Shoto gently reassures me. 

Before we can keep talking a nurse with a wheelchair comes to find me and asks me to go with her for a general check-up. This time it is Eijiro the one who helps me move and sit in the chair. While the nurse is dragging me away I look back at them and realise they're all staring at me so I blush and quickly avert my eyes while the nurse chuckles.