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scripts4dreamers · 4 months ago

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Just a headache

AN: I am officially Back on my Bullshit, writing for characters from a video game that came out in 2007 but, in my defence, I only discovered them like two months ago. Furthermore, I will never understand the Kaidan Alenko hate, I heard that man say "I'm 32 years old, Shepard. You don't live this long without coming to terms with yourself" and SWOONED. We love a man who doesn't need fixing! Characters: Kaidan Alenko, fem!Shepard Warnings: None Spoilers: None

The first time it happened it was so innocuous that Shepard barely noticed. She called for Kaidan to meet her in the cargo hold and instead got Joker in her ear.

“No can do, boss. Alenko’s a no-go. Gotta pick someone else.”

Oh well, it happens. She shrugged it off and hooked Liara into a quick Mako ride instead.

The second time it happened she was actually looking for him. Nothing serious was going on and she’d wanted his opinion on some readings they’d picked up coming from the Argos Rho cluster.

“Lieutenant,” she’d started, staring intently down at her datapad, “can you take a look at these for me? I think I-Lieutenant?”

There was an empty spot where the lieutenant usually stood. She had, in fact, been talking to air. Okay, a little embarrassing, but where was Kaidan? He was always there, like always. She knew he wasn’t on the bridge, she’d just come from there. They were in space, so he couldn’t have gone for a walk. He said the cargo hold made him feel claustrophobic, so he wouldn’t be down there. Maybe the engineering bay? She felt strangely off kilter not knowing where Kaidan Alenko was. He was something of a constant for her, a little piece of stability in her incredibly chaotic world. With him missing…

“Everything alright, Commander?” he asked, appearing at her right shoulder and making her jump.

“Lieutenant,” she said, with a little screech. Kaidan chuckled and she flushed, continuing, “I was just-I was looking for you and you weren’t here.”

Did Kaidan look…guilty? He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and avoided her gaze. Now that she thought about it, something was definitely off with Kaidan. His skin was slightly sallow and he was holding his body with a kind of forced stiffness. When he moved there was the slightest edge of gingerness to it, like he was afraid of something. They were subtle things, expertly hidden, but Shepard had spent too much time on the field with Kaidan to not notice. He was definitely hiding something.

“I’m here now, Commander,” he replied with a tight, but sincere smile, “can I help you with something?”

She opened her mouth to question him, but something kept her quiet. Kaidan had never pushed her, never forced her to be more open than she was ready to be. Maybe it was time she gave him that same respect. Still, if she did a little research when she was alone in her cabin that night, who would know?

The third time…well, the third time it happened, everything clicked. They had just cleared out a base on Luna whose VI had gone rogue. It had been more tedious than actually challenging, but the constant buzz of the drones, the hum of the kinetic barriers and the harsh glare of the grenades Ashley had been launching had left Shepard feeling irritable and overstimulated. Ashley was uncharacteristically quiet as they clambered back into the Mako, which was the only clue as to how tired she was as she stared listlessly out the window at Earth. However, it was Kaidan who was drawing her attention. He looked wrecked. She could see him clenching his jaw and then forcing himself to relax it. His hands were balled into fists where they were resting on his thighs and he winced subtly whenever he opened his eyes. She forced herself to drive slowly, trying to minimize the jolting as much as she possibly could and earning a few well meaning jabs from Williams as they made their way back to the Normandy. She took them on the chin and kept her mouth shut, her eyes flicking over to Kaidan in the rear view mirror, deeply concerned.

As they drove the Mako up into the Normandy’s open cargo hold and stepped out into the decontamination zone, Shepard felt herself cursing the number of bright lights. Had spaceships always been so shiny and loud? Did it always need to jolt like that? Kaidan looked like he was about to fall over. As subtly as she could, Shepard moved so she was standing in front of him and blocking him from view. Kaidan let out a small sound of relief that made her heart pinch as he used her cover to shield himself from the worst of the glare.

“Migraine?” Shepard asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper as they waited to be decontaminated.

“Not yet,” he answered, “but it’s coming.”

“Should I get Dr Chakwas for you?”

“No, no I have meds in my cabin.”

Shepard nodded, looking forward to avoid drawing attention, “Seems like this is happening more often these days.”

Kaidan was quiet for a long moment, “I didn’t think-I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.”

“Kaidan,” she started gently, “I want to know when you’re struggling. I want to-”

The automated voice chirped that they were now free to proceed into the ship and, like an arrow fired from a bow, Kaidan shot past her into the elevator, gave her an apologetic look and vanished up into the main body of the ship. Shepard let out a breath and forced herself not to bolt after him. It was becoming a problem, this need to know that he was alright, this compulsion to check on him, to keep him safe. He was a grown man, she reminded herself, a capable man and he wouldn’t appreciate her fussing over him.

And yet…

When over a day had passed with no sign of Kaidan, when he didn’t show up for breakfast, lunch, dinner and then breakfast again, Shepard made her way down to the crew quarters. It was unusual for a lieutenant to have a room to themselves on a ship like the Normandy, but Dr Chakwas had pulled some strings. She had only been inside it once, on the first day of her first tour on the Normandy. The day she’d met Kaidan.

Slowly, she raised her hand and knocked.

—

Kaidan felt like his skull was going to split open, like someone was sending shockwaves directly from his brain into his cranium in an attempt to break him. His stomach roiled with nausea, but there was nothing left in his body to throw up. The strength of the migraine had surprised him. It hadn’t been this bad since he was a child, since those brutal days at Brain Camp when the instructors had pushed them past their limits just to see how quickly they could recover. Somehow, the pain was even worse than he remembered.

He couldn’t say for sure how much time had passed since the attack had started, but he knew that it had been too long. He knew his absence would have been noticed and his heart pinched at the thought of Shepard and his friends talking about him in hushed tones, wondering about his capability, throwing doubt on his fitness for duty and sighing with disappointment as they took on his jobs. A little part of him fought back on that narrative, reminding him that these were his friends and they were more likely to be concerned than disappointed, but he was too strung out on pain and exhaustion to be reasonable.

As a way to distract himself, Kaidan thought back to his last proper conversation with Shepard. It hadn’t been anything special, just trading ideas on what they were most excited to do when they next got shore leave. Shepard had said that the first thing she was going to do was find a cafe and order herself a proper cappuccino and Kaidan, with a confidence that was rare for him, and quipped back that if she came with him to Vancouver he knew a place that would blow her mind.

“Better than sex,” he’d promised, immediately realising that he’d never actually said the word ‘sex’ around the commander before and cursing himself for his lack of formality, “swear to god.”

She had just laughed in response and the sound was so intoxicating that Kaidan suddenly didn’t care about propriety, “Better than good sex or bad sex? Because that matters.”

He had made a big show of thinking it over when, in reality, he had been trying to keep himself from flushing. Shepard and sex were thoughts he usually fought very hard to keep separated, now that he had brought them together they were getting all tangled up and sweaty in ways that-

“Better than good sex,” he had said, proud of how normal his voice sounded, “but worse than great sex. I don’t want to give you false hope, Shepard.”

She’d chuckled, patting him on the back as she started making her way back to the bridge, “I’ll hold you to that, Alenko. You, me, mind blowing coffee in Vancouver.”

“It’s a date.” he’d said without thinking.

Shepard had almost stumbled. Almost. It had been small, just the briefest stutter in her usually fluid movements, but Kaidan had caught it and it made something flare in the pit of his chest. She hadn’t done anything but give him a shy smile but, as he had watched her walk away, he had felt something in their dynamic shift.

That had been what, two weeks ago now? It was hard to tell, but he thought about it almost every day. That shy smile, the briefest touch of her hand on his back, they kept him going. He knew it was inappropriate. He knew there were a million regulations forbidding him from ever-forbidding them from ever-

But God, nothing quite distracted him from the pounding in his head like fantasizing about Shepard, so he let himself dream. He let himself imagine holding her face, twisting a lock of hair around his fingers, bringing her home to meet his parents and kissing her on their patio. He imagined being happy with her, living a simple life where they would both be safe and comfortable. It was a pretty dream made even prettier by how impossible it was, but he felt just sorry enough for himself that it didn’t matter.

The soft knock drew him from his imaginings. Probably Dr Chakwas coming to check on him and give him a scolding for not coming to her immediately.

“Come in,” he said weakly, his voice horse from lack of use, “door’s open.”

In the pitch darkness of his small, spartan room it took him longer than it should have to realise his guest was not, in fact Dr Chakwas. It was only when she’d gotten nearly to the bed that Kaidan could make out Shepard’s familiar form.

“Commander,” he said, scrambling to his feet as quickly as he could and gritting his teeth as his head responded with vicious throbbing, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

The movement was too much. His stomach revolted against him, white lights flashed before his eyes and, for a mortifying moment, he was convinced that he was going to pass out right there in front of her. Only years of experience working through the pain kept him upright and he fumbled for a lightswitch.

“If I’d known it was you-” he started, finding the switch and flipping it on.

The sudden brightness made him cry out and, in one fluid movement, Shepard leaned forward and flicked the switch back off, plunging them both back into darkness.

Before he could finish his sentence or do something really embarrassing, like throw up on her boots, Kaidan felt Shepard’s hands grip his upper arms softly.

She waved away his apologies with a simple, “At ease, soldier,” and guided him back down so he was sitting on the edge of his bed.

She took care to move him slowly, keeping her touch soft so as not to jolt him too much. It was tender and, even though his skin usually felt tender and sore during an attack, the contact felt like a soothing balm. He could make out her features through the darkness now, as she crouched in front of him. Her brow was furrowed with concern, her eyes traced his face like she was scanning him for injuries and she was worrying at the inside of her lip, a habit she’d had the whole time he’d known her. Suddenly, Kaidan became aware of how wrecked he must look to her. He had kicked off most of his clothes long ago, leaving him in just a pair of comfortable shorts. His skin was tacky with dried sweat, his room was a complete mess and he must smell-

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” Shepard asked, her voice kind and non-judgemental.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied automatically.

She pursed her lips, “Kaidan…”

“It’s just a headache, ma’am,” he insisted, repeating the lie he’d been telling since he was small, “I’m ready to serve, whenever you need me.”

Shepard sighed, sounding tired and, to Kaidan’s surprise, reached up to press her fingers against his throat. His heart stuttered in his chest. She was checking his pulse, that was all. It was a very normal thing for a person in her position to be doing, he shouldn’t be - The gentle pressure of her skin against his felt so good that Kaidan’s eyes fluttered shut involuntarily and he just managed not to whimper.

“You don’t need to lie to me, Kaidan,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I know you. I know you don’t make a habit of missing meals and spending days lying alone in the dark. Talk to me.”

“I-” he started to protest, before sighing, “I’ve been better.”

“Are there meds I can get for you?”

He shook his head, “Can’t keep them down long enough for them to work. Just gotta wait it out now.”

She made a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat, “Mind if I wait with you?”

Kaidan felt a flicker of something in his chest, a mix of anticipation and mortification. No one had ever-not since Brain Camp-but he was so sick of being alone with his thoughts, and Shepard-

“I wouldn’t want to bother you, ma’am,” he argued, half-heartedly, “I’m sure there’s a million other things that deserve your attention more than me.”

She smiled and, even in the darkness, Kaidan could make out the glimmer in her eye.

“Not today there isn’t,” she replied, “today I’m all yours, if you want the company that is.”

Kaidan silently thanked the lord for the darkness, because he just knew he was blushing something fierce. There was no amount of pain in the world that would have stopped him from feeling a lick of desire deep in the pit of his stomach at the phrase ‘today I’m all yours’. He would unpack that later, he promised himself.

“I-I would like some company, Commander,” he agreed.

The way Shepard’s face brightened at that was worth any level of embarrassment he might have felt, “Good.”

She immediately took a seat beside him on the bed and leant forward, untying her shoes and kicking them off. Kaidan opened his mouth to ask what she was doing but, before he could say anything, she pulled her legs up and crossed them.

Kaidan Alenko was, for lack of a better word, dumbfounded. Commander Shepard, the commander Shepard, first human spectre, and the woman he currently had a big fat juvenile crush on, was sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on his bed. It was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but chuckle, even though his voice was still weaker than he would have liked. She smiled, like the sound pleased her, and reached down into the satchel that, until now, Kaidan hadn’t realised she’d brought.

“I have supplies,” she explained, “so, head on my lap please, lieutenant.”

—

Jesus Christ what had gotten into her? Shepard’s face felt like a bonfire as she waited for Kaidan to react to her frankly insane request. It had seemed like such a good idea in theory; just show up and be so confident that Kaidan couldn’t possibly think she felt obligated or burdened, but now it was real. Now they were alone in his room with the lights off and Shepard who, up until this point, had been so careful to never offer Kaidan anything more than a friendly pat on the back to maintain protocol, had just decided to camp out on his bed and ask him to pop his head on her lap.

Inappropriate. Abuse of her power. Unexcusable.

But he looked so destroyed. When she’d checked his pulse she had been able to feel his pulse thrumming too quickly beneath his skin. For the few seconds that the light had been on she had seen the tremor in his limbs, the dark circles beneath his eyes. The man could barely stand let alone serve, but he had tried, he had tried so hard for her, just like he always did. She wanted him to be comfortable, she wanted him to know that he didn’t need to push the pain away with her, that she could be someone he could depend on. If he’d let her.

Only now he was staring at her like she’d grown a second head, and she’d almost certainly blown any sort of trust they might have had and she really didn’t want to explain to Anderson why she was being reported for harassing her lieutenant when he was ill and-

“That’s-” she cleared her throat, “I didn’t mean that as an order, by the way. I just-” she reached into her back and pulled out the ice packs she had brought with her in preparation for this terrible, terrible plan, “I brought supplies.” she repeated.

There was a look on Kaidan’s face that she’d seen glimpses of before but had never been able to identify. He looked down at the ice packs in her hands and then up to her face, holding her gaze for a long moment. His eyes reminded her of whiskey, smooth and unassuming with a kick that sent a shiver down her spine. She tried not to think about how little clothing he was wearing. The man was ill, she absolutely refused to be a pervert about this, but his eyes were fair game and damn, his eyes…

Slowly he moved up on the bed, lowering himself so that his head rested gently on her lap. His arms - more fair game - tentatively wrapped themselves around her knees and Shepard let out a slightly shaky breath.

“Where is the pain, mostly?” she asked.

“Besides everywhere?” He replied with a weak smile, “Base of my skull and my left temple. That’s where it always starts.”

She nodded and gently pressed one of the flexible ice packs to each of the spots he mentioned. For the left temple he could simply rest his head on the pack, but she had to hold the second one to his neck to make sure it stayed in place. The sound he made was somewhere between a sigh and a moan and that strange protective possessiveness flared to life in her chest again.

“Quiet, LT,” she teased, “people might get the wrong idea.”

He chuckled, his eyes fluttering shut as the coolness spread along his skin. She could feel his laughter against her legs, she could feel his sighs of relief and his gratefulness in the way his arms just briefly tightened around her knees. It felt good to help him. It felt good that he was letting her help him.

They sat together in silence for a while, but the silence was comforting rather than awkward. Despite being there for the express purpose of helping Kaidan, Shepard couldn't help but find some of her own relief in having nothing of importance to do. With Kaidan’s head in her lap and his warm breath ghosting over her legs, she could almost forget about Saren and the geth. There was no conduit, no secret race of sentient machines, no hellish past tattooed on the inside of her skull by the last remnants of the Protheans. There was no one counting on her. It was nice.

Shepard tentatively reached out and brushed her fingers along Kaidan’s temples, letting her nails scrape against his scalp softly. He sighed and pushed his head against her hands.

Eventually, Kaidan broke the silence, “I’m sorry I rushed off like that when we got back from Luna.”

“No need to be sorry,” she replied, “I understood.”

“No, I want you to know that I don’t usually let my headaches get in the way of my work like this, ma’am,” he continued, his voice taking on a slight edge of tired desperation, “I usually manage it better, it’s just-”

“It’s just that the work we’re doing is full of endless triggers?” she suggested, “Bright lights, bombs, gun fire, constant life or death pressure, high stress, chronic exhaustion-”

“It sounds like you’re describing being a soldier, ma’am,” he interrupted, but his voice sounded fond.

She snorted, “I’m describing war, Lieutenant. There are soldiers who go their entire career without seeing the level of combat that we see in a week. You and I are more prepared than most with our service histories, but there’s no way to really get your body ready for what we’re putting ourselves through. Every single member of this crew is seeing wear and tear of some kind, this is just yours. You’ve done good work and we all see that.”

He was silent for a moment, “The others are struggling too?”

“Oh yeah,” she agreed, “Garrus works on that Mako all hours of the day because if he stops moving he’s worried he’ll never start again. Ash runs drills until her body physically gives out because she can’t sleep otherwise. Tali can’t stop checking the engine because some part of her is convinced that it’s just going to give out while we’re sleeping, Wrex had broken three shotguns in fits of rage and Liara-” she shook her head, “that poor woman is so overwhelmed that it’s a miracle she’s still moving at all.”

Kaidan hummed sympathetically, “And you, Commander?” he asked gently.

She pressed her lips together to keep from immediately giving one of her prepared, comforting lies. Kaidan had trusted her, he was being vulnerable. She owed him at least that much.

“I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep since Eden Prime,” she admitted with a sigh, “I try, but I just end up lying in bed awake for hours and then, when I do eventually doze off, I wake up screaming like an hour later. Dr Chakwas thinks I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and the lack of sleep is slowing the healing process for all the damage my body is taking.”

“Well, maybe if you let me put barriers on you before charging right into the middle of every firefight we come across-” Kaidan replied teasingly.

She waved him away, eternally grateful to him for not forcing her to linger in her moment of vulnerability, “Save your barriers for yourself, LT. I’ll be fine.”

He chuckled before continuing, “Thanks, Commander. It-it doesn’t make the pain go away, but it’s good to know I’m not the only one.”

Shepard took a moment to turn the ice packs over, earning her another relieved sigh from lieutenant Alenko, and studied his frame intently. His brow had smoothed out, his breaths were deep and even. The tension he had been carrying in his shoulders and neck seemed to have leached away. He seemed better, or at least more relaxed than he had when she first arrived and she fought the urge to run her fingernails along the smooth expanse of his back.

“I’m glad,” she smiled, “how is the pain now?”

He sighed, “Still there, but-” she could just about make out the pink flush that spread along his cheeks, “but it’s a lot better with you here.”

He was fighting to stay awake, she realised, a fight that he was rapidly losing as the sheer exhaustion that came with being in constant pain dragged him closer and closer to sleep.

“Good,” she replied gently, feeling herself softened by something deeper than mere fondness, “get some rest, Kaidan. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She could see him trying to think of some sort of protest but, eventually, the pull was too strong.

“Thank you, Shepard,” he said softly, “for everything.”

She was saved from having to answer. Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko was already fast asleep.

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ino-takumas-baggy-sweater · 1 year ago

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A Second Chance, A Father's Curse - Part 3 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

I'm trying so hard not to burn myself out on writing because I've written and posted so much the past few weeks. which is a really short amount of time for me, also I'm going away for about a week which means I won't be able to write, so hopefully by the time I come back I'll be refreshed and ready to write more! In the meantime enjoy part 3 :)

Part 2 here

Warnings: sukuna is a volatile lil shit, possibly incorrect descriptions of disabilities? i did do a bit of research but also it's a lot of heavy headcanoning

Word count: 3.6k

“Have you seen the news?” “Prince Ryomen L/n…” “Why do you think he changed his last name?” “He’s part of Iqoria now, whether he meant it or not,” “Surely there’s an explanation for it,” “There must be, but he’s here now and he’ll be a great asset if he knows what he’s doing,” “That is true, I suppose we should just trust the King, if he trusts him with Princess L/n then we should too,”

There have been no shortage of murmurings in the streets about the sudden and unexpected marriage and arrival of the newlywed Ryomen L/n. It’s only been a couple of days, the people will adjust. You’re making sure that you take the time to walk him around the castle and actually get to know him before you take up the traditional clan tattoos that will bind the pair of you to Iqoria, of which he holds a curious fascination.

“What are the origins of your clan tattoos?” He asks on the second morning. A lovely warm day, you’ve chosen a light dress and a parasol to accompany you on your walk through the gardens. You look over to him beside you, the pair of you hidden amongst the bushes as you sit together on a shaded bench, “There are a few different opinions and accounts, but I believe the most popular stems back to an ancient era of the kingdom where curses were much more abundant than they are currently."

"One of my female ancestors centuries ago used ink to disguise herself and played pretend as a fierce and strong curse, almost acting as a god, and she led great numbers of them to their destruction to protect her village. Adenfast is said to be named after that village, but the original location is unknown,” You explain.

“Have they changed much over the years?” He has taken your hand and is tracing his thumb over the lines on your wrist, “Not as far as I know, I know a few lines here and there that came from specific people from my family tree because of things they achieved, but it’s mostly stayed the same,” You point to your wrists, the two thick black bands there prominent, “These were added by my great great grandmother, as protection for the young children in the family, two lines done at age ten and then renewed after marriage,”

He smirks, but it’s softer than it has been, “Interesting…” He murmurs. “How will you be incorporating your clans tattoos into mine?” You ask quietly, because ultimately it’s his decision, and you’re already fearing his answer. He just shrugs, “Not sure,” He looks away, still holding your hand, “It all doesn’t feel real,” He murmurs. “Freedom?” You squeeze his hand gently.

He nods, his gaze traveling around the quiet gardens as you take in the moment. He’s been skittish, he flinched when your father raised his voice at dinner the night before and you’d made sure to scold your father afterwards. You can always sense the storm within him, he can’t easily suppress his energy and you’ve had to deal with one other outburst than the one on the journey here.

He’d been here only a day, his sleep was restless and this you knew because you spent that night in the same bed together in lieu of the wasted night spent in a carriage. Nothing happened between the two of you, but he jolted the both of you awake in the early hours of the morning after a nightmare. The sun hadn’t risen, his face was barely visible in the dim starlight creeping through the window, but you could feel his sadness. He wouldn’t tell you what it was, he didn’t say a word, just allowed you to pull him against you and hide his face in your chest. His outburst later that day was aimed at Geto, who’d foolishly commented on his younger brothers.

“Does your father not see your younger brothers the way he sees his precious eldest heirs?” He’d said during one of your tutelage sessions with Gojo in which Ryomen was watching from the sidelines, and you knew he was deliberately stepping over a line. You thought Geto was better than that, but after this happened you weren’t sure you could trust him in the same way you always had.

You felt Ryomen coming up behind you and stepped to put yourself between them with a glare in your eyes before Ryomen could even think about throwing a punch, “Suguru Geto, you know better than that, do I have to tell my father about this?!” You had shouted. His eyes had widened and he’d dropped to a knee, immediately apologising. He clearly hadn’t expected you to support your husband. You suppose he held a grudge against the man for his actions towards you on the journey to Iqoria and thought you would share these reservations, but you refused to stand for it. “You fucking bastard, never speak of my brothers again, do you hear me?!” Ryomen spat over your shoulder, “My brothers are better men than you will ever be, I can fucking smell the hatred that you exude,”

You also didn’t appreciate the accusation that came from Ryomen but you let it slide, you’d seen his last interaction with his brothers and knew it still rubbed him raw to even think about them. “We’re done here, Geto I will speak with you at a later time,” You turned and herded Ryomen out of the room. His eyes held that familiar tint of red at the edges of his irises and his energy had flared to such a level that you’d taken him out to the rear of the castle, where the guards trained, and he had destroyed a wooden dummy halfway across the courtyard beyond recognition within mere seconds of arrival.

He was breathing heavily when he finally looked back at you, and you refused to look away or show you were afraid. He was in pain, and you needed to let him work through it and seek help only where he wanted it. “Let’s not tell anyone about that,” You nodded vaguely in the direction of where the dummy used to be as he returned to your side, his breath ragged and sweat dripping down his face and neck.

He nodded in response, swallowing thickly, “I’m sorry,” He mutters, “You shouldn’t have to see me like this,” “Is that your technique?” You asked, gaze flitting to the pieces of the dummy. He looked away and you didn’t question him further, you just took his hand and lead him into the castle to force him into a bath.

Back in the present as you’re reminded of the fear in his eyes, you look back to him, “Are you… afraid of yourself?” You murmur. He looks like a kicked puppy when he turns to you and your eyes widen, “Sorry! Sorry, I take it back, you don’t have to answer that,” He clutches your hand just a little tighter, his knuckles going white and his lips set in a thin line, “Yes,” He states, his voice shaky, “I am afraid of myself,”

“I’m afraid of what I might do to you if I’m left unchecked,” He continues, “I’m afraid of hurting you and lashing out at the people around me because I still feel like a caged wolf even though the reality of my situation has changed,” “I hope you can one day see me as home,” You say, putting your parasol down to reach your hand up to his cheek, “I know it will be hard, and I promise I will know you down to your core one day, but there is no rush,” He nudges his nose against your palm for a moment, “I am first and foremost your new friend, and I want only to be your strongest ally,”

He nods, “Thank you,” He whispers softly. “Princess Y/n!” The shout of your name shatters the small bubble of peace around the two of you. You drop your hand from his face but keep your fingers intertwined as you stand. A young maid around your age that you grew up with, Belinda, comes racing around a dense rosebush and comes to a skidding halt when she spots you. She bows for a moment, “Your father has requested your presence for the application of the L/n clan tattoos,” She informs you and you hand your parasol to her, “Thank you for letting me know, take this to my closet and we will make our way to the throne room,”

She darts off with the parasol in hand and you link arms with Ryomen as he stands again, leading you back into the castle. Once in the throne room, you’re greeted by the pair of artists responsible for both your and your brother’s tattoos, “Ah Princess Y/n, and Prince Ryomen, an honour it is,” The couple bow as your father stands and opens his arms, “My children, it is time,” He smiles widely, “See to this duty with dignity,” You curtsey to the tattoo artists before they lead the two of you to a room dimly lit with candles.

“As you aren’t the Crown Prince and Princess, this isn’t considered an extravagantly formal affair,” The woman assures you, “You may speak freely with one another while we work, there are a few rituals we will conduct during and after the inking process, but nothing remarkable,” The tattoo artists are specially chosen for their artistic abilities and their knowledge of cursed energy, as a reverse cursed technique is needed for royal family tattoos which are expected to appear to the public within the first twenty four hours of application.

“If you please,” The other artist, the man who gave you your wristbands when you were ten, gestures to the outline of a person on a poster you didn’t even notice at first on the wall. It’s not quite life size, just smaller than you, but it shows you the complete map of tattoos that you will be getting for the L/n clan including a back view just beside it.

Bands on your upper arms and around your shoulders as well as a large spot on your shoulders, two sharp parallel streaks down your abdomen with matching lines reflected on the small of your back, two broken lines that wrap over your shoulders like overall straps and veer up and then down again just below your collarbone on your breasts. You’d always known about the facial tattoos, the lines that follow the jaw bone, the emblem in the centre of the forehead that was said to represent wisdom, and the line over the nose, but you’d always seem then as quite delicate and symbolic of the fragility of life.

The tattoos hidden beneath the clothing were thick and strong, reminiscent of the ones on your wrists that were there for protection. These were the tattoos of fierce and noble protectors. Those who would risk their lives to keep the weak safe. Your family was strong, a fact perhaps forgotten in times of peace, and this reminder gives you a boost of confidence as you begin stripping down to just your bottom half undergarments. There are no tattoos below the waist save for a pair of thick ankle bands and the symbol on your forehead copied on both hips.

“How would you like to incorporate the Itadori clan tattoos?” The man asks Ryomen behind you. You hear the shuffle of clothing and then his hand on your bare upper back. Having to get really comfortable really fast with one another, you rip the bandage off and turn to him with your arms crossed over your chest, hugging yourself, “I don’t think I will,” He grins as he looks you up and down, his gaze flicking between you and the poster on the wall a couple of times. The artists exchange glances but you just nod, “Make it so,” “Your majesties, this isn’t a wise decision diplomatically speaking,” The woman speaks softly, her head bowed.

“This marriage wasn’t for the sake of diplomacy so why the fuck should I care what my father thinks?” Ryomen snaps. You grab his hand, still keeping one arm tight over your bare chest, “Ryomen,” You say softly, “Ryomen, it’s okay, they’re allowed to be worried for their kingdom, this has never happened before, are you sure you don’t want to add anything? Even if it isn’t from your clan?” He looks into your eyes for a fleeting moment and then looks to the map again, frowning as he breathes deeply. “Can you tattoo a pair of fake closed eyelids just above the edge of where the lines will end on my cheeks?” He gestures on his face just below his real eyes.

You look confused for a moment but he clarifies, “My second eyes, Yuji always used to tell me I had an extra pair of eyes reserved for my brothers,” The artists seem to relax only slightly and the woman asks you if you’ll be getting that modification to which you reply, after confirmation from Ryomen that he is comfortable, that yes you will. The entire process is long and tedious, difficult, you spend more time squeezing Ryomen’s hand than actually talking because the pain gets to you after a while. He’s antsy the whole time, he reaches up and fidgets with your fingers and plays with your hair after his arms and shoulders are done while you’re sat up getting your back done.

“Tell me about your brothers,” You ask softly once the man starts work on his back, the woman in between the two of you tattooing atop your breasts and collarbones. “My brothers? What would you like to know?” You shrug, “Anything you want to tell me,” He looks up for a moment, “Well, Yuji and I were always the closest, since Choso is the Crown Prince he spent a lot of time in studies and learning how to be king. Eso and Kechizu are five and eight years younger than me, fifteen and twelve, both born with disabilities that prevent them from leading normal lives,”

There is an intense sadness in his eyes and you squeeze his hand gently, “Eso significantly lacks in his movement and coordination ability, the doctors would never tell us exactly what it was but we knew he couldn’t play the same way we used to as children, so we never played rough. Kechizu is hard to explain, because he was born with significant tunnel vision and a high sensitivity to light, and so hasn’t bothered opening his eyes most of his life, but also has problems with his blood. He bleeds heavily if he gets hurt, he bruises extremely easily, so then we learned we had to be gentle with both boys,” You’re sure your sadness is palpable at this point, but he seems to be perking up slightly just talking about them with someone.

“Despite the limitations in their abilities, they were always so lively and never wanted to be left behind if we went out to train, Eso spent his time describing in exaggerated detail the three of us as we trained to Kechizu, and I just remember them being so happy when my father wasn’t around-“ He cuts himself off, his lips returning to a thin line as his eyes sparkle slightly in the candlelight. You know he doesn’t want to cry in front of the artists, so you instead begin to tell him stories of your childhood, your brother and Geto, the young maids who grew up alongside you and now serve you, the kindness of the Iqorian people and the events and festivals you’ve attended all your life.

“That all sounds lovely,” He murmurs as he cups your cheek, tracing a thumb over the new tattoo just below your eyes and letting his energy flow through you to heal the raw skin left there. The gesture warms your heart, healing his addition to your clan tattoos, and you uncover your chest shyly to place your own hands over the newly healed tattoos on his collarbone, tracing the edges of the thick lines gently. “You know, now that it’s happening, I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else,” He says, his voice thick with emotion.

You blush softly, “You really do have a way with words sometimes, I think you could have been a poet in another life,” He steps into your space, half attempting to hide your exposed skin from the artists, “I think I’d very much like to be reborn as a songbird,” He whispers, his large hands still gently holding your cheeks as the artists begin their final rituals, leaning his forehead down and resting it against yours. “Then I could sing you songs of every kind of love every morning when you wake,” A soft glow surrounds the pair of you as you look into his eyes, the tattoos emitting the glow as the artists murmur softly.

You’re unsure of what exactly they’re doing but you know this is a moment you won’t ever forget, stood in the center of a dark room with the man you saved within mere hours of meeting him. Your new husband, perhaps the most dangerous man alive if Satoru Gojo’s Six Eyes are to be believed. But he’s here, he’s right in front of you holding you like a butterfly, bearing your last name and the marks of your clan because of the ignorance of his father.

The artists have left the room by the time you come back to one another, the glow slowly dimming with every second, but his hands never leave your body. He traces his hands over everything he can see, and everything he can’t, in an effort to familiarise himself with you and seek comfort in your warmth. It doesn’t occur to you that this is a little scandalous, you simply allow him to softly caress your skin, nothing but a hint of innocent desperation in the air. He needs this. He needs you to step into the role Yuji had tried his best to fill, his main protector and advocate, and if Ryomen needs to know you inside and out to allow himself to trust you then you’ll do whatever it takes.

“We have a people to address,” You murmur, still looking up into his half-lidded eyes. He nods gently, sitting back down on the table and breaking the trance, allowing you to search for the robes and bring them back to him. Simple white clothing, symbolising purity, adorned with green stitching, symbolising new beginnings. Both outfits are sleeveless, the straps thin and the neckline plunging deep on both your front and back to expose the main shoulder to collar tattoos to the air. Nothing can be done about the tattoos on your stomach and lower back, but the sleeveless nature allows for the arm and shoulders to be fully exposed.

“Allow me,” He murmurs, reaching for the simple dress and then helping you step into it, clasping it at your hips and just below the middle of your back to secure it. It’s oddly comfortable, it had looked itchy and uncomfortable on your sister-in-law but you suppose she just didn’t like the stares of the people. When you turn back to him he’s already pulled the loose pants on and you watch his muscles flex and relax as he slips into the shirt.

“You look good,” You murmur softly, clasping your hands at your stomach, “Are you alright?” He looks up, fixing his hair slightly. His soft smile sends a shot of warmth through your body as he reaches for you, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I can say with full confidence,” He starts, holding you to his chest and hiding you against him as the door opens again, revealing your parents, “That I’ve never been better than I am right now,” He whispers for only your ears, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you nuzzle against him.

“It is time,” Your father announces, “For you to address the people as husband and wife,” You steel yourself as you pull away, noticing a hint of red in Ryomen’s eyes as he looked down at you, but feeling nothing but strength from his aura as opposed to rage. You look to your father and nod, “We’re ready,” Time had seemed to stand still while the two of you were in that room, but the moment you stepped out you saw the day had ticked over and it was now the morning again. The rituals performed by the artists had prevented you from becoming weary or hungry, you felt refreshed if anything, and the two of you walk hand in hand with your parents in tow to the main castle entrance.

Geto is there at the open doorway, and past him you can see the courtyard and the steps up to the entrance are flooded with the Iqorian people. This is it, the first step into the public eye, with your husband by your side. News travels fast, you’re sure the Itadori clan will hear of his tattoos before the sun has set, but a small part of you holds no remorse. “Are you prepared for the consequences?” Ryomen murmurs into your ear, “There’s no backing down now,”

You squeeze his hand and then tug him out into the growing sunlight, walking forwards until you’re at the edge of the steps. The reactions you can see are mixed, but there is an overwhelming amount of positive energy flowing up at you. Your emotions get the best of you, tears slip down your cheeks, you tuck yourself closer to Ryomen as he lifts an arm to wave. “Live in the feeling,” He whispers, seemingly to himself, “Savour the moment,”

You decide to do just that. Peace washes over you, and you find yourself once again thinking to the future, the countless possibilities and unknowns. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it with Ryomen L/n unapologetically by your side.

Might start putting a 'fanart of the day' at the end where i link a fanart of the character in question (in this case sukuna) for you all to enjoy if you haven't seen it already lol

Part 4 here

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #yuji itadori #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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mugloversonly · 14 days ago

Text

One Hit Wonder

for @steddiesportsau prompt "Boxing/Wresting"

summary: Steve loses a boxing match to Billy. Eddie can't let it stand | rating: G | cw: none | wc: 1089

Ao3

After, he sits at a table, reports on all sides. Cameras flash and finally, a smile appear on Eddie’s face as he answers questions.

“Why’d you come out of retirement?”

“I thought it’d be fun.” Eddie points to the next person.

“Why Billy Hargrove?”

“Hargrove’s a punk that needed to be taught a lesson.” A hand he recognizes goes up. With a smile, he gives Nancy the go ahead.

“It’s no secret you and Steve Harrington are dating. And a month ago, Billy Hargrove beat Harrington in a fight, then you come out of retirement. Are those things related?” Nancy asks.

“Well, Steve and I aren’t just dating anymore; we got married last week.” Eddie smirks and flashes the silver band on his left hand. “Hargrove’s a disgrace to the sport; even if that fight wasn’t with Steve, my response would have been the same.”

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

Eddie’s eyes widen in horror as Steve goes down. From one second to the next, Steve goes from standing tall, winning the fight, to being KO’d. The quiet gasp of the crowd shows they too didn’t expect Steve to lose. He was holding his own against up and comer Billy Hargrove; they thought anyway. But Billy didn’t really swing until the last round, which meant he was toying with his opponent the whole time.

Holding back his panic, Eddie crawls into the ring to Steve’s side, checking the man for any injuries that require a hospital. Seeing none, he drags Steve to the side of the ring and out. The ring medic does a quick concussion check on Steve and takes a look at the rest of him.

“He’s fine. Needs some rest and has a mild concussion. You should make sure he has someone with him tonight.” The medic says to Hopper, their coach.

“I got it.” Eddie volunteers, as if it was even a question. “Hopper,” he waves the big man over. “I need you to get me a match with Hargrove.” He whispers. Hopper’s eyebrows raise in shock.

“Eddie, you’ve been retired for two years.” Hopper reasons, but when he sees the fire in Eddie’s eyes he sighs. “Start training. In a month, I’ll check your progress and if it’s good enough, I’ll get a match.” With a grin, Eddie salutes the coach and focuses on getting his fiance home.

For the next few weeks, Eddie’s in the gym for hours. Jumping rope, sparring, planks, all with a single minded focus. He’s going to make Billy Hargrove pay for his shit. Once Steve’s cleared for activity, he joins in.

“I thought you were done with boxing?” Steve asks one day. With a shrug, Eddie continues his push ups. It’s no secret that Eddie was at the prime of his career when he retired. There was a lot of speculation in the boxing world about why; he wanted to start a family, he was afraid to lose his undefeated streak, but the real reason was never stated. Truth be told, he was bored. He won easily over and over, no one was a challenge. So, he retired and turned to training kids and focused on his music.

Here’s the thing, he knows Steve doesn’t mind that he lost. It happens every once in a while, it’s not a big deal. Normally, Eddie wouldn’t think anything of it; but, it wasn’t that Billy beat him. It’s the way he pretended to be on the ropes just to come out of the corner with a huge right hook. Fighting dirty, that’s what pissed Eddie off.

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

One month to the day, Hopper himself spars against Eddie in the ring. The training lasts longer than normal, but Hopper’s not putting Eddie in the ring with that maniac without knowing he’s ready.

After the fight request,Hopper did some research on Hargrove. The guy fights like it’s fun to get the shit beat out of him. Smirks and laughter fall from his lips every time a blow lands but he doesn’t seem to take opponents seriously unless they make him bleed. Eddie’s been out of the ring a long time, Hopper would hate to have a coach laid up because of a grudge. But, with the speed and skill Eddie’s displaying, Hopper’s sure; he’ll win. He agrees to set up a match.

The turnaround happens quickly after that. Hargrove’s eager to fight anyone and anything. Add into the mix that Eddie came out of retirement just for this, and the match gets put on every pay per view channel in the country.

The lights dim as Hargrove’s walk out music, Blood on Blood plays. “Ladies and Gentleman, he’s new to the scene but he’s made quite a splash, it’s the big bad, Billy ‘the boss’ Hargrove!” The crowd cheers as the man makes his way to the stage. He throws a few fake punches and smirks wide as he throws off his robe. Ducking into the ring, he revels in the cheers and the boos as his trainer pushes his guard into his mouth.

A quick flash of lights, and flames burst from the side of the ring as the solo from Master of Puppets pours from the speakers.

“We all know whose music this is! Fresh from a two year retirement, the undefeated Eddie ‘the freak’ Munsoooon!” There’s no crowd work from the man draped in a black robe. A calm form walks to the ring, with a single minded goal. Nothing breaks him out of it, even as he climbs in and his mouth guard is placed into his mouth.

“Hey, Munson. You trying to show your little boyfriend that it’s okay to lose?” Billy snorts. Eddie doesn’t rise to the bait, he doesn’t even acknowledge his opponent.

“Let’s have a clean fight.” The referee says as he steps between them; neither man moves to touch gloves. This isn’t a fight between competitors, it’s a battle of wills. Their fists go up, Eddie’s a southpaw fighter and Billy thinks that gives him an edge.

The bell rings.

Billy laughs and lunges forward, fists raining in; but, Eddie only dodges. No tricks, no parries, no blocks. He’s fast, faster than any opponent Billy’s ever faced, faster than he was before his retirement.

Eddie swings.

His fist lands solid and strong. Billy stumbles back in shock as his vision blurs; his head swims.

Billy falls.

The ref starts the count as medics surround the fallen man.

“The winner is Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson!” Eddie’s fist flies up in victory as he leaves the arena.

tags

@katyawriteswhump

buy me a coffee

#mugswritesfics #Steddie #Jim “Chief” Hopper & Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Jim “Chief” Hopper #Eddie Munson #Nancy Wheeler #Boxing & Fisticuffs #Alternate Universe - Sports #Eddie hates poor sports #Retired boxer Eddie #Boxer Steve Harrington #Boxer Eddie Munson #Established Relationship #Boxer Billy Hargrove #steddie sports au event

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five-rivers · 10 months ago

Text

Danger First Chapter 14

Wow! It's been a while!

"So, Midoriya," said Ms. Kayama, "putting together anything special for the Athlete's Oath?"

Izuku looked up from what was shaping up to be a fairly in-depth analysis of the second event of a sports festival that had occurred about a dozen years ago, a sense of dread pooling in his gut. "What?"

Ms. Kayama smiled, brows pinching together just a smidge. "The Athlete's Oath. You were the top scorer on the entrance exam, weren't you? I didn't get you confused with someone else, did I?"

"Oh, no," said Izuku, as he finally managed to put Ms. Kayama's question together with facts he'd known for years. "I forgot the Athlete's Oath."

"Athlete's Oath?" repeated Yoichi. "What's the Athlete's Oath? Was it something Eighth had to do? Nana, do you know?"

Nana raised an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that all of you were here when Toshinori went here."

"Yeah," said En, "but that was about a hundred years ago."

"It was not," said Hikage.

"It was just as long ago for me."

"Sure, but he was your kid," said Yoichi. “Everyone remembers their kid better."

Nana made a face. She… couldn't actually dispute that. All these years later, she could still remember things like Kotaro's first day of school with blinding clarity.

… and Toshinori's first day at UA, for that matter.

"It's just a little… not a speech. A recitation. Just a few lines about playing fair and trying your best. Used to be the top student of the third years would do it, but I guess they must have the top students for the first and second years do it as well, now that they're televised as well."

"Is Izuku the top student, then?" asked Yoichi.

"The only test they've had is the entrance exam," said En with a shrug. "Ninth got top in that, so…"

"And so, Eighth's bribery has led to Ninth's downfall," said Banjo in a falsely serious tone.

"He didn't bribe anyone!"

"Izuku got in on his own merits!"

"Jeez, you guys can't take a joke."

Nana huffed. "I just don't understand why they're so excited about it. It's just a tiny thing. You can read it from a little card."

As always, Izuku’s first resort was research. He searched HeroTube for compilations of the most recent UA Athlete’s Oaths, and hit play.

He watched the videos, chewing his lip. There was just so much to do, so much to say– How could he capture the spirit of Plus Ultra competition, his will to win and everyone else’s, the honor of competing, the honor of speaking for his entire year, all in only a few minutes? In only a couple days, too.

And without stuttering.

He was going to die.

No, no. That was the wrong mindset entirely for a UA student with a shiny new hero name, much less All Might’s successor! He could do this! He would do this!

He’d just… break down into tears a few times first.

Nana felt eyes boring into the back of his head.

“Just a thing you can read from the back of a card?” asked Yoichi. “This guy’s been talking for ten full minutes, and I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon!”

“I can feel you all judging me,” said Nana, “but I’ve been dead for decades. It’s changed. That happens.”

“You don’t have to feel me judging you, I’m doing it out loud.”

Izuku stared down at the pages and pages of repeatedly crossed out lines.

“I don’t know why I thought I could do this,” he whispered. “I couldn’t even come up with a hero name on my own.”

“This really isn’t a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal! Do you know how dangerous public speaking is?”

Nana turned to squint at Yoichi. “When did you ever do public speaking?”

“Probably about the same time he went to school,” said En.

“I did go to school! Why will you not let that go?”

“Bizarre petty grudges and jokes are pretty much the only thing we can hold onto,” said En. “That and the quirk.”

“Seriously, though, this isn’t going to kill him.”

“It isn’t? What happens when my brother sees him on TV? Speaking for the hero class?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Banjo. “That’s a thing.”

Yoichi threw up his hands. “How did you guys forget?”

“I didn’t forget,” said Hikage.

“Maybe I should ask Dad,” said Izuku. “He probably talks to lots of people for his work…”

“No!” screamed all of the ghosts.

“That's different than public speaking, though, isn't it?” He let his head drop onto his open notebook, heedless of the ink and graphite getting on his face. “At least it's only the first year speech.”

He sat up with renewed energy.

“And there's no way it’ll be worse than Endeavor's!”

“That's the spirit!” cheered Nana.

“I thought we were the spirits,” said Hikage.

“It's just an expression.”

“Are we spirits, though?” asked En.

Banjo groaned. “Please, kid, don't start on that again.”

Kaminari waved furiously from across the field as the purple-haired boy next to him did his best to hunch into his uniform and disappear. Far behind them, Snipe sat reading a paperback novel. “Hey! Welcome to our awesome training montage!”

“You can't have a montage in real life,” said Jiro.

“Watch me!”

Once everyone arrived, Iida started chivying them all into a loose circle. Well, Izuku reflected, Iida obviously wanted them in an exact circle but… even Izuku could see that was never going to happen. Then Iida cleared his throat portentously and Yaoyorozu stepped into the center.

“Thank you for coming, everyone,” she said. “Especially those of you who aren't in 1-A, we understand this is a leap of faith, and what we're doing here is a little radical. For today, our goals are for everyone to get to know each other and to start working out strategic teams. So, let's start by just introducing ourselves. I'll go first…”

The purple-haired boy was named Shinsou Hitoshi, and he had thus far been very reticent about his quirk. About talking at all, really, which was interesting, given his attempt at a declaration of war earlier.

Interesting, not strange. In a similar position of not-quite-enmity, Izuku would probably be on the lookout for potential weaknesses, too. As long as Shinsou waited until the third event, though, that was fine. It wasn't as if everyone in class 1-A didn't know each others’ quirks already.

That was all a very uncharitable way of thinking about Shinsou, though, and Izuku felt a little guilty thinking about things like that. He wanted to become a hero, too.

“Alright,” said Yaoyorozu, “now, remember, the first event is the elimination event. Our researchers say we'll probably be racing, competing for some limited resource, or trying to avoid being tagged out in some way. Even with the teachers trying to be unpredictable, the number of students does limit them. All of the events we've been able to brainstorm favor mobility, so you want to be in a group that you can move well with. Defense is important, too. Bakugou, at minimum, is a problem, and we have to assume the other classes will target us.”

“Bakugou's the crazy guy who chased Midoriya down at lunch the other day,” said Kaminari to Shinsou at a volume that was obviously meant to be a whisper, but fell far short of the mark.

“He's not crazy,” protested Izuku. “He's just. Passionate.”

Everyone regarded him dubiously.

Predictably, the groups initially split along lines of friendship, acquaintance, and obligation. Yaoyorozu and Iida walked around for a while, trying to keep the groups more or less equal in size before settling into their own class leadership group, along with Monoma.

“A waltz of darkness and chaos,” muttered Tokoyami, barely getting out of the way of Satou, as his group, consisting of himself, Ojirou, Sero, and Hagakure, trundled towards a shadier spot.

Hatsume laughed. “If you think this is chaotic, wait until the sports festival!”

“She's right,” said Uraraka. “So, Midoriya, what do you think we should do?”

“Eh? Me?”

“Your battle trial plan was quite impressive,” said Tokoyami. “Your strategic acuity will cast a long shadow in the sports festival as well.”

“I don't know about that,” said Izuku. But then he glanced at Monoma. They probably only had about ten minutes left. “I guess- I guess the most obvious thing is for us to be a rocket.”

“Ow,” said Uraraka, rubbing her head.

“I think,” said Iida, also nursing several bruises, “we should have come up with a better way to steer before we tried that. And brake.”

“Yeah… We did go fast, though.”

“But, Hatsume, your, um, your ba- your inventions–”

“Call ‘em my babies with your whole chest, grappling hook.”

“I think your babies would help any team, but that you'd do really well with Yaoyorozu. And Uraraka and I should probably be on different teams, since we both have flight-capable quirks. Even if we both have time-limit issues…”

“Aww,” said Uraraka, “you're probably right. I was looking forward to working with you, though.”

“What about Fumi and me? We can be on your team, right?” asked Dark Shadow.

Tokoyami ducked his head and tried to push Dark Shadow down. “Don't ask questions like that.”

“I don't know if that'd be a good idea, since Bakugou's explosions can make a lot of light.”

“That just means we're destined to be arch-nemeses!”

Izuku sat down next to Hagakure, Aoyama, and Ashido.

“Okay, Midori!” said Ashido. “Come up with a super move for us!”

“I’m sure you will come up with something that sparkles,” said Aoyama.

“Uh, um,” said Izuku, flustered. “How about, um, Aoyama, is your laser just light? Maybe it could go through Hagakure - if lasers going through you doesn’t hurt.”

“No, that’s one of the first things my quirk counselor tested,” said Hagakure. “My parents wanted to make sure that all the light going through me wasn’t going to give me turbo cancer or something. The real problem for me is that for me to do anything with my quirk, I’m going to have to be naked. We have to wear our PE uniforms for the festival.”

“Oh, non,” said Aoyama. “I’ve been given an allowance for my belt, surely they would give you one for your suit. Anything else would be quite unfair.”

“Or you could ask Hatsume, see if she can make something for you that would work temporarily,” suggested Izuku. “She’s really eager to work with everyone. Or even just plastic clothing, from Yaoyorozu.” They'd all have to be careful not to overtax Yaoyorozu, though. Anything else would be unfair. She had to save something for the final event.

“Okay, okay, okay, but what about super moves?” asked Ashido.

“Or some things we can do during the event, anyway,” said Hagakure.

“Well, if you're with Aoyama, like I said, and his laser can go through you, that could be a really good way to get in a kind of sneak attack. No one expects a person to be in the same area an attack just went through.”

“Lowest setting first, mademoiselle?”

“Just hit me already, Twinkles! I can take it!” shouted Hagakure from the other side of the field.

“Are- are you okay, Aoyama?” asked Izuku, after they'd tested Aoyama's laser on a number of settings.

“Oh, oui, my quirk just upsets my stomach somewhat, you see. And it seems as if Hagakure is, how should I say this, my natural enemy.”

(In truth, Aoyama was feeling ill, but not because of his quirk. Rather, the problem was his quirk’s origin. The man had demanded that Aoyama keep an eye on Midoriya - and, if possible, make him win the sports festival. A minor thing, really!)

(If only Aoyama had the courage to defy the man.)

(He hoped Midoriya would be able to survive whatever All for One had planned for him.)

All for One sighed. He wondered if he could find a good enough disguise quirk to take Izuku out for ice cream after he won the sports festival. Or after he lost and was properly filled with hatred for hero society.

“Sensei?” said Ujiko. “Are you alright?”

“No. You're being incredibly boring.”

“Ashido, how acidic does your acid have to be? And is it always the same substance, just at different concentrations, or can you make different substances, as long as they're acidic?”

“Um,” said Ashido.

“I think that's it for me, today,” said Ashido, sitting down. “I'm going to have to drink, like, a dozen liters of Gatorade or something. You're brutal for someone so cute, did you know that, Midori?”

“He'd have to be, to get through the entrance exam without using a physical quirk,” said Hagakure, dragging Ashido back up. “Come on, we still have the gym for fifteen, and I want feedback.”

“You're both brutal.”

��Um,” said Izuku, sidling up to Shinsou, notebook in hand. “Your quirk is a mind control type, right?”

Shinsou, scowled down at Izuku. “It's Brainwashing,” he said, rather gruffly.

“Oh, wow, that's great. Mind control quirks are actually perfect for hero work, but the stigma means hardly any heroes have one. Like, you could stop a fight before it even started, or get villains to surrender right away, or help civilians who are too panicked to move properly, or heroes who are compromised, or who would otherwise have trouble cooperating with each other, for whatever reason. It’s really too bad that the entrance exam is all robots.”

Shinsou stared at him.

“Any- anyway, I've heard that some- some quirks can interact unexpectedly with mental quirks, and I've noticed you're not- You don't seem to be using it, much, even though we have permission here, and… Um. Just saying, you can practice on me, if you'd like.”

“Oh! Or me!” said Kaminari, popping up seemingly out of nowhere. “We should test and see if you can get me when I'm in wheyyy mode, or Satou when he's powered up!”

“What does that even mean?” demanded Shinsou. He allowed Kaminari to drag him on, however.

“Oooooooh,” said Izuku, his plan to test out the ‘hallucination’ thing Mr. Yagi had explained all but forgotten. “That's a great idea! I'll take notes!”

“I know it's a little disappointing that we didn't get a chance to appear to Ninth,” said Nana, “but don't you think you're overdoing this a little?”

Yoichi rolled over so that he was face up in his Bog of Despair. “No,” he said, before rolling back over.

“Forget that,” said Third. “Am I the only one at all disturbed by how he's picking apart all the other kids’ quirks?”

“Yes,” chorused the other ghosts.

Izuku stood at the classroom door for several blank minutes. Where was everyone? Did he… Get the date wrong? No, there was enough security outside to defeat a small army. Which was probably the point, come to think of it. Was he late? Had he missed the sports festival? When he was the one giving the opening speech for the first years?

Forget public humiliation, he was going to be expelled. As soon as Mr. Aizawa saw him, he would–

“Midoriya, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the prep room?”

Izuku squeaked. Then he registered what Mr. Aizawa had said. “Prep room?” he repeated. “Oh, yeah! The prep room! Thank you, Mr. Aizawa!”

Shouta sighed as his number one problem child scurried away. How illogical… But there would be time to work on his memory and situational awareness in the future, and it would be downright hypocritical to scold him about it now.

He shuffled into the classroom, careful about his bandages, because he had just been scolded by Recovery Girl. The lights buzzed when he turned them on, more obvious without the students there… although they did have competition from the roar of the crowds in the festival stadium.

He walked over to his desk and knelt to retrieve his stash of jelly pouches, especially the coffee ones. Which he also wasn’t supposed to have, but what Recovery Girl didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Or cause her to hurt him, which was the more pertinent issue from his perspective. If he was going to survive announcing the first year’s festival by himself, he was going to need them.

Now weighted down, he started hobbling back to the stadium and the announcer’s box. Jelly was heavy, as it turned out.

Recovery Girl really would kill him if she found out. He sped up. Not a lot. Just a little. Just in case. He certainly wasn’t moving as fast as Midoriya had.

He made his way through staff passages, avoiding most of the crowds and pleasantly nodding to heroes who had been asked to come serve as security. Finally, and in good time, too, because his stupid injured body was starting to get winded, he reached the announcer’s box and opened the door.

“Yagi,” said Shouta, “what are you doing here?” He shook off the sense of deja vu.

“Oh,” said Yagi, brightly. “Young Aizawa! I was getting worried that something had happened to you. Principal Nezu thought that you could use some assistance here, with young Yamada being otherwise occupied.”

And so he’d replaced one loud blond with another. He couldn’t even be that mad about it.

“You have any training for this?” he asked instead.

“Well, not for announcing sports events in particular,” said Yagi. “But I have a lot of media and commercial experience and I’ve been practicing cheering on my students!”

“Right,” said Shouta, who was feeling as if he’d somehow asked a stupid question. “Just don’t show too much favoritism.”

“Oh, I’d never! After all,” and here he grew much more grim, “you know as well as I do, the risks of putting too much attention on young Midoriya. Besides, young Yamada gave us a ‘cheat sheet!’”

Izuku, dressed in his PE uniform, stumbled into 1-A’s prep room.

“Hey!” said Kaminari. “It’s Midoriya! We were getting worried about you, man!”

“Ah, y-yeah,” said Izuku. “I wound up going to the classroom instead.”

“Huh,” said Jiro, “you’d think your quirk would have warned you against that.”

“Um, yeah,” said Izuku, “but I guess it wasn’t really dangerous to go to the wrong spot at first? Especially since I got here okay, eventually, right?”

There was a murmur of agreement, but with a slight uneasy undercurrent.

“There’s not any real danger in the sports festival, either, though, is there?” asked Yaoyorozu.

“I- I mean, there’s the danger of getting beaten up?” And he’d been able to feel danger from wrong answers on a test before, so… This should be the same kind of thing, right?

Yaoyorozu nodded. “Right. There is that.”

“Don’t worry, Midoriya,” said Uraraka, “I’m sure you’ll be fine. We did so much studying for this, after all.” She held up a fist. “I’m feeling confident! That’s for sure!”

“Yes!” said Monoma, who twirled over with Aoyama. “I, too, am confident that we will defeat those philistines in class 1-B, not to mention everyone else!”

“Oui,” said Aoyama, “our performance will be tres magnifique!”

“Don’t forget we have allies in other classes, you two,” said Yaoyorozu, slightly exasperated.

“Yes,” said Monoma, “but neither of them are in 1-B. We have the excellent Mock and the ingenious Brigid to support us.”

Ashido sighed heavily. “Speaking of support, I sure wish I could’ve used my costume.”

“It’s to keep things fair,” said Ojiro with a shrug.

Iida power-walked into the room. “IS EVERYONE GOOD AND READY?” he shouted, clearly as nervous as Izuku, but trying to cover it up with sheer volume. “THE EVENT’S ABOUT TO START! Ahem. Where is Todoroki?”

“Oh, jeez,” said Ashido, raising a hand to her lips. “He never came to any of our practices, so I just sort of forgot he should be here…”

Honestly, so had Izuku. Todoroki had quite the presence, but he could also fade into the background with surprising ease. Maybe it was just because he hardly talked? More importantly, what had happened to him? Was he sick? Did he get lost like Izuku did? Did he get kidnapped by people trying to get at his father? Endeavor might not have the social and political weight that All Might could bring to bear, but Number Two Hero wasn’t an empty title at all. Maybe he–

Izuku’s thoughts ground to a confused halt when Todoroki casually walked into the room.

Oh. He was just late.

Todoroki stood up in front of the room, clearly intending to make some sort of address.

“Er,” said Izuku, “Todoroki, what is it?”

“Objectively speaking,” said Todoroki, “I’m stronger than all of you. Even if you’re all working together… even if All Might has his eyes on you, Midoriya, no matter the reason… I will beat you.”

"Did he just… declare a rivalry with… all of us?" asked Sero, quietly. In the hush that followed Todoroki’s words, he might as well have shouted.

"Can you do that?" asked Kaminari. "Is that allowed?"

“He's got a point,” said Banjo. “A rival is like a nemesis, or a girlfriend, you can only have one at a time.”

“That's not true,” said Yoichi. “You can have more than one girlfriend at a time.”

En squinted at him. “Again, aren’t you gay?”

“Multitudes, En, multitudes.”

“Aw, come on, man,” said Kirishima, “do you really have to pick a fight with all of us, now? We’re about to go on and fight anyway. Make your statement on the field!”

“I don’t care. I’m not here to make friends.” He shouldered past Kirishima and left the room.

“Uh,” said Midoriya, “that… was something.”

“Yeah,” said Jiro. “Does he intend to just wait in the hall or something? We’re all going to the same place.”

Tokoyami shook his head, Dark Shadow mirroring him. “What a mad banquet of darkness.”

“Wow,” said Yoichi, chuckling. “Sometimes I forget how needlessly dramatic teenagers can be.”

All the ghosts, except Second, turned to stare at him.

“How needlessly dramatic teenagers are?” repeated Nana.

“Yes?”

“Have you not been sharing the same afterlife as the rest of us, or what?”

The class waited in the tunnel, fidgeting, bouncing, flexing, whispering. Any minute, now, they’d be called in, to take their place on the field in front of the cameras.

Any minute, now.

“Is it just me,” whispered Uraraka, “or is this taking a really long time?”

“I am sure our eagerness is only making time appear to be passing more slowly than it really is!” said Iida.

“No,” said Monoma, frowning, “they really are starting late. I wonder if it’s a problem with the cameras, or if something else happened. Midoriya, have you noticed anything?”

Izuku shook his head. “I d-don’t think so? Just, um, just nervous for the event! I think. I hope nothing’s– nothing’s gone wrong.”

Shouta and Yagi bent their heads over Hizashi’s so-called cheat sheet.

“I’m not reading this,” said Shouta.

“This is… I thought we were supposed to avoid favoritism in these things,” said Yagi, sounding incredibly confused. “What– What’s this about a ruthless grand battle? That doesn’t really… sound heroic…”

“Yeah, this is just typical Hizashi. Trash it and come up with one of those inspiring speeches you like so much.”

The intercom speakers crackled into life overhead.

“Welcome to the UA Sports Festival!”

“Is that…?”

“All Might!” squeaked a Gen Ed student several rows back.

“The once-a-year event where our new students show how they can go PLUS ULTRA!”

The crowd outside, in the stadium, cheered wildly.

“First, put your hands together for a class that has already faced some of the worst the world of villains has to offer and PERSEVERED! Class 1-A!”

Somehow, they managed to turn their initial rushed stumble into a confident march before they emerged from the mouth of the tunnel. Izuku squinted against the light at first, but recovered quickly and attempted to mimic Iida’s wave.

“And next up, we have an equally worthy group of young heroes, who have been polishing their skills until they shine like the stars they are! Class 1-B!”

As the classes emerged, Mr. Yagi continued to read out names and short accolades, and Izuku started to feel like he was about to throw up. Oh, there were a lot of people here, and once all the classes came out, he would be speaking in front of them.

“Well, this is it, guys,” said Yoichi. “The last minutes of Hisashi not knowing Izuku is in the hero course.”

“I'm still not sure why you think he doesn't know already,” said Nana, crossing her arms. “You were listening to the conversation they had about hero names, right?”

“Are you kidding? That's how I know he has no idea. That was classic Hisashi, existing in his own world, having a completely different conversation than the other person. That's why he got my lab partner deported when I was an undergrad. He heard the word partner, and he immediately assumed our relationship was romantic.” Yoichi shook his head sadly.

“New question,” said Banjo. “Did All for One ever go to school?”

“When in reality, Chan and I had only just started discussing the possibility of a QPR…”

“No, seriously, what is that guy's level of education?”

“They had to go back to China… It was tragic. Almost as tragic as Izuku inheriting that particular personality quirk.”

“Ew, don't talk about Ninth inheriting quirks from him,” said En.

“I agree,” said Hikage.

“Thank you,” said En.

“That was indeed a tragic turn of events, Yoichi.”

“Is no one else interested in whether or not All for One graduated high school?”

“Furthermore, I believe that the danger involved in a non-ceiling vaulting and the preceeding kidnapping would trigger far more anxiety that Ninth is currently experiencing.”

“Er, thanks, Hikage, but you don't have to say ‘non-ceiling.’”

“Hey!” snapped Nana. “Ninth's speech is starting, and I, at least, want to hear it.”

“Now!” said Ms. Kayama, brightly, snapping her whip to get the attention of people close to the stage. “The athlete’s oath! Your student representative, from class 1-A, is Wonder!”

Izuku pasted on his best smile and climbed the stairs.

#danger first #bnha #fic

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fipindustries · 10 months ago

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does F.I.P stand for anything in particular or is it a secret

ah, my favourite question to answer, fuck it, this time im going to give the long answer:

a primer on FIP

you know.

i dont have the best memory of my past, i truly dont. i claim that certain things happen at certain ages but there is no way for me to know for sure.

long long ago i decided, a bit at random, that the age at which i came up with the concept of FIP industries might have been when i was eleven. that was a guess, an educated guess but a guess all the same.

i know the very first idea of something akin to fip industries came to me on a family trip after watching the now forgotten cartoon show called the project zeta. and this all happened roughly in 2003 - 2004. so that is why i use that date.

which would mean that its been 20 years since i came up with this project. i do remember distinctly that i promised my self at that age that i would not allow maturity or growing up to take this thing away from me. that i would not forget this story or these characters. indeed that i would make it grow and dedicate the surely considerable resources i would have as an adult to make it come true.

and i didnt.

ten years after that, when i was 21, i wrote a novel called F.I.P. industries. it's... fine, for a first draft of a first work of someone who had never written a novel before at 21 years of age. it develop the story, it crystalized it. it gave it a coherent shape and a strong foundation. what's more, it cemented the arcs of many of its key characters, characters that had started as broken, improvised toys made out of key chains and legos and pieces of toy cars. the lore also went through an EXTENSIVE overhaul, i incorporated elements from other stories, fused characters together into a single character, changed the race and gender of many other characters, changed dates, names and arcs around and streamlined the whole thing.

then in 2020 i decided to overhaul the entire lore a second time. dramatically changing the timeline and the importance of certain characters, cannibalizing a bunch of other stories, retooling a lot of things and, once again, pushing everything into a new direction.

and of course i should add that during those 20 years i kept adding characters, side stories, spin offs, lore, backstories and actually continued the story along. twenty years have passed both in the real world and in-universe.

and given that this is the story's 20th aniversary (i think), it is time for me to share this story with all of you, from beggining to end, explaining every character along the way. this is going to be a long and arduous excercise and i genuenly dont know if i am going to get through it all, but i will try all the same.

ill be making a series of posts under the tag #FIPindustries the story can be divided in three eras, it will be one masterpost per era, where i will go over the main chronology of the story and the main characters in each era.

Era 1, also known as the golden years covers the founding and original expansion of fip industries as a research lab covering multiple different disciplines and fields of studies, trying to find synergies between the different investigations. this was all financed and directed by its founder, Filander Ignatius Patrick. this era ends with the collapse of the company during a terrible incident that ended up killing, vanishing or transmutating most of its employees. what few survivors there were left scattered to the winds. key characters in this era are Montogmery J. Black, also known as the shadow, Craig Sterling, legally assigned as grim reaper, and Franchesca Turimov, cyborg, rabble rouser, bad news.

Era 2, also known as the dormant era, covers the fallout of fip industries collapse and the different stories of the multiple scavengers that managed to salvage the lost technology from the ruins of the company. this era is mainly dominated by Maximillian Sicamore, a sinister man with many secrets and even more plans, who used to be an employee at the company and one of the few survivors of the collapse. key characters in this era are Maximillian Sicamore, criminal mastermind, proud father, The four crazy kids, Marten, Ralph, Sarah and jessica, freelance heroes, The harpsichord crew, sky pirates.

Era 3, is the return of FIP industries to its former glory under the helm of maximillian's son, Erik Sicamore, who takes over his father's empire, re hires many of the old scientists that survived (and many of those who didnt as well), and includes a fresh batch of new blood, amongst which you can find many of fip industries old enemies. Under the control of Erik the company is redirected to more "charitable" goals, such as finding a source of infinite renewable energy for the world (which is all a front for his real plans, killing god). key characters for this era are Erik Sicamore, leader of FIP industries, broken man, trans, Peter, tamed serial killer, Leenard and Sasha, scientists, lost in time, lost in space

with this quick introduction you should be ready to parse whatever the more indepth dives i might make some day on each era in the oncoming posts.

welcome to F.I.P. Industries

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cookinguptales · 1 year ago

Text

God, so. This is a story I haven't told in a while, so it'll probably be new to a lot of my followers.

This morning I got my kudos email and saw one for a fic I didn't recognize. I puzzled over this for a few minutes, then clicked on it and immediately remembered everything I'm about to tell you.

"Oh right," I said. "This is what happened the last time I fell down a research rabbit hole while writing original fiction."

The long and short of it is this: I used to do a Halloween fic exchange every year, and one year someone requested "dinosaur ghost." I was immediately like "that sounds fun!" and then, approximately three seconds later, remembered an article I'd read recently.

(This is me, unfortunately.)

A long time ago, there was this kind of mad rush for dinosaur skeletons to put in museums. (The Bone Wars, if you're familiar.) The Carnegie Museum ended up finding an Apatosaurus skeleton, but at that time, no one knew what that skeleton was supposed to look like. The researchers argued quite a bit about it and, despite the fact that they'd actually found the correct skull during the dig, attached the cast of a skull of a Camarasaurus to it instead. This skeleton had the wrong skull for decades until the mistake was realized and eventually switched out for the right skull in the 1970s.

This left me with an appealing, sort of whimsically romantic idea: what would it be like, if dinosaur bones are haunted? And what would it be like if two ghosts were being forced to inhabit the same dinosaur skeleton?

So I decided that I wanted to write this story about this mismatched skeleton and the ghosts that haunted it, but in order to do that properly, I had to find out what happened to that Camarasaurus skull after the Apatosaurus was properly reassembled.

Friends, I fell down the fucking rabbit hole. I looked at the museum's website. I was looking in journals. I was on Google looking at families' vacation photos so I could get a better look at the exhibits in the museum.

I was down bad.

In the end, I gave in and emailed the museum. Like... this is a weird question, but is there anyone who could tell me what happened to the Camarasaurus skull that used to be on display with the Apatosaurus?

I wasn't expecting a reply, really. Maybe an intern would email me back with an apology. If I got really lucky, a docent might actually know what I was talking about.

Imagine my surprise when I get back an email from an actual fucking paleontologist. He is not just happy to tell me what happened -- he is thrilled. He was excited that someone was even asking these questions, and I didn't even almost have the heart to tell him why I'd asked.

Now... I'll take a moment here to say that I am actually interested in museum studies. I'm super interested in the way we teach science, the way we teach science history, and the history of how we've taught that history. I took classes on it in college, in fact. I tried to take paleontology, too. I even took all the preqs and everything. I just couldn't get it into my schedule in the end.

So when a literal fucking paleontologist emails me to talk to me about these things, I sit up in my seat. I want to seem like I am On The Level. I reply to this man with my academic email address.

OH MY GOSH, he says. YOU WENT TO PENN? I WENT TO PENN!

Oh no. Oh no. I am in too deep. I am in way too deep. This kind, charmingly enthusiastic paleontologist cannot know that I am writing a quasi-homoerotic dinosaur ghost love story. He can't.

So I talk to him about my own field of study because I desperately want to sound like a real scholar and not like this is research for my AO3 account. (Even though it is.) We have a very nice conversation. He tells me everything I need to know and then some.

Apparently, I was right when I'd suspected that I'd seen a Camarasaurus skull in some of the photos of the exhibit. He was pleased I'd noticed. But it wasn't the same one that was on display with the Apatosaurus skeleton.

The real Apatosaurus skull was too fragile to be put on display, so they made a cast of it instead and mounted that on the skeleton in the exhibit. The real skull is being kept in the Big Bone Room, which is what they call their fossil storage. The cast of the Camarasaurus skull? Even though it was just a cast, it was still kept for posterity. It is also being stored in the BBR along with the skull of the Apatosaurus. And the real Camarasaurus skull that the cast was based on is now displayed near the Apatosaurus skeleton in the exhibit.

So both parts of the skeleton are now with a new version of their old friend, and they'll never be alone again. I don't think I could have designed a more romantic, bittersweet ending if I'd tried.

I write my fic. It's lovely, in my opinion, and exactly what I wanted it to be. It's about love and friendship and the sort of wistful affection you feel for friends who have gone and those you have just met.

I do not speak to the paleontologist again.

To this day, I am deeply relieved that he never found out what I was up to, but also sort of curious to know if he would've liked it if he'd read it. I took some extreme scientific liberties while writing my quasi-f/f dinosaur ghost fic (shocking, I know) so probably not. lmao

You never know, though! Some academics are into some super weird shit! Like me!

So I guess I always feel kind of wistful about the fic, too.

Anyway... Here's the Carnegie Museum's page about the Apatosaurus/Camarasaurus skeleton.

And here's the story I wrote about them:

Something Borrowed 💜🦕

#original fiction #long post #paleontology #dinosaurs

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ingravinoveritas · 2 years ago

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Have you seen his latest tweet? He’s having one of his moments and is blocking people left and right. I got myself blocked for commenting on a comment… TF is this poop? 😒

@phantomstars24 Okay, so...I have seen what's been going on on Twitter with Michael and there is...obviously a lot going on. Let me first put up the screenshots of his other tweets, which followed the initial one in @ourtubahero-blog's screenshot (the first one is most recent):

I think there are a few things (well, a lot of things) that are getting missed in all this, specifically the context for why Michael wrote the original tweet in the first place. It appears that it was meant to be a reaction to this incident, which just occurred today in the UK:

The wording of Michael's tweet was not clear, and I also don't think anyone outside of the UK would readily know what he was reacting to, so straightaway this seemed to lead to a lot of misunderstanding. A large portion of the criticism of that tweet stemmed from people thinking Michael was taking a neutral stance on the situation in Gaza/Israel, which is what then led to him making a clarifying tweet in that regard. For my part, I did not interpret Michael's original tweet as neutral, but rather that he is and does stand with innocent people of every stripe, and wishes for there to be no more bloodshed or further loss of life.

Michael's subsequent tweets only seem to have compounded the problem, as they appear to have been made out of an emotional response on his part, which is not a good thing when it comes across as defensive. Emotions are running incredibly high right now, and sadly that is the time when misunderstandings are most likely to occur. In the interest of clarity, in his second tweet, Michael did not say that he had no time to do research, but rather that he "has no time for people telling him to do research." What I took this to mean is that he already has done research and thought very carefully about this entire situation, and therefore felt slighted at people implying that he had not.

The problem inherent in all of this, however, is that this is an extremely difficult subject to have nuanced conversation about, particularly on social media and especially on Twitter. This then leads us to the issue of blocking. I think what Michael was attempting to say (again, badly worded) in his tweet about blocking people was that he was blocking people due to what he perceived as personal attacks. This would explain people being blocked for saying apparently innocuous things, as Michael was on the defensive and does not really have that button in his brain telling him to stop or back off once he gets going.

It goes without saying that Michael seemingly blocking people indiscriminately is definitely not a good look (though it is not without precedent, as I remember well him doing the exact same thing four years ago, albeit under different circumstances). But what is also not acceptable is people sending him death threats, or tweets such as this falsely accusing him of horrific things. In this instance, it is more than understandable that he would have a strong reaction to being dogpiled and block someone, because no one should have to accept threats to their person on their own social media page.

I think what is also happening is that a lot of fans (not either of you who sent in these asks, for the record) are correlating online activism to activism in real life. Michael has always been about walking the walk and not just talking the talk, to where we know he donated almost all of his money to the Homeless World Cup in 2019. He is also a UNICEF UK ambassador and has visited Lebanon, Chad, and Guatemala to meet and help refugee children. All this to say that we have no idea what he has done outside of social media to assist refugees and victims, or if/how much he has donated to Palestinian charities or other relief funds for victims and their families. And for my part, I would rather Michael be clumsy with his wording on social media (again, not defending the indiscriminate blocking) and taking tangible action in real life than engaging in performative Internet activism that ultimately goes nowhere.

(Also, I cannot help but facepalm at people asking Anna to weigh in, under the assumption that a) She would even care about this; and b) She has any influence whatsoever on Michael's behavior, which it is abundantly clear she does not or else he would have stopped flirting with David years ago. I just really hope people do not tag her or expect her to have the ability to somehow "rein him in," because they will be very disappointed...)

So yes, I think what made Michael make a statement tonight after all this time was the above-mentioned MP. I think his intentions were likely good and that his heart was in the right place--as are all of ours, in wanting to protect innocent civilians and stop the horrific violence that is happening. But I also think that if Michael wasn't prepared to handle certain types of criticism, then it probably would have been better for him to say nothing at all, or at least certainly to not escalate things by continuously tweeting. I am also sorry for the fans who were hurt by his actions, because I know fans who have been there before, and it really sucks.

I am hopeful, however, that we can all step back and breathe once emotions are no longer so heightened and try to find a way to listen to each other and engage meaningfully. Because it is truly disheartening to see how things escalated so quickly tonight, and I want to believe that we as a fandom and as human beings can do so much better. I suppose only time will tell...

#ourtubahero-blog #phantomstars24 #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #twitter #Michael is a PR nightmare #because any PR person would have advised against this #and yet #i honestly get whiplash reading Michael’s Twitter sometimes #ignoring sometimes really is the best thing you can do #i have learned this from experience #i hope Michael learns it too #for his own mental health and well being #fandom woes #thoughts #discourse

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sitp-recs · 2 years ago

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Do you know fics where Draco fights for Harry? Doesnt have to be entire fic I just notice usually around the climax of the fic its Harry that makes the grant gesture to get his man; i want Harry to be fought for 😭😭

Hi anon! I definitely have some recs for that one, hope you enjoy these 😊

Like Gold by @the-sinking-ship (E, 4k)

Draco runs away from home on the back of his boyfriend’s motorbike.

Be Still by @writcraft (E, 5k)

Harry’s back in England and Draco tries to fix things before he disappears again.

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (E, 30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

Make Me a Headline (I Want to Be That Bold) by dicta_contrion (E, 31k)

Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

All Roads by @korlaena (M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out. Draco doesn’t want to face the truth about himself, but he’s stuck between Harry and his duty, and he’s out of options.

In The Red by @bixgirl1 (E, 45k)

When Harry goes looking for a vampire at a Creature club, the second-to-last thing Harry expects is to find Malfoy working there. The last thing he expects is to fall in love with him.

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58k)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

Every day, Draco Malfoy tries. With every fiber of his being he tries. But he doesn’t much think about what he’s trying for. In his final term of Healer training, Draco is unfortunate enough to find himself on a plane, the only means of traveling to a small, magical town in rural Alaska. Years of hard work have culminated in an opportunity to work with an experimental wandmaker to study the intersection of Healing and wand theory. When Draco arrives, he doesn't find the wandmaker, but does find his apprentice, who happens to have ridiculously messy hair, a lightning bolt scar, and a definitely-not-charming smile.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship (E, 135k)

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #Draco fights for Harry

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letstalkpuck · 1 month ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/letstalkpuck/780001370480754688/do-you-know-what-happened-to-puckingtea

It appears that she deleted her blog. But if memory serves she does this. She had a blog before then deleted it for whatever reason and then came back with that one and now that one is also deleted. So who knows maybe she'll reappear in the future?

Okay, so this is the only time im going to say anything about this. I’ve been nice to everyone, but like I did some research amongst some other blogs tags and through tumblr hockey tags on here, so here you go. As it’s been a hot topic today in my ask box I went deep diving and found some tea. It can all be found on tumblr if you’re willing to dig through a few years worth of bullshit and drama. I personally feel like I wasted possibly more than an hour of my life.

I’ve never followed this blog personally (I actually don’t follow many blogs on here.) so idk what’s really going on in this situation but here is some stuff I’ve dug up so we can just lay it to rest.

From what I’ve learned she’s done this every time shes been called out for causing drama or being a bully which is a lot concerning.

One blog who shall remain anonymous sent me a private message (I’m sharing this info with consent without a screen shot for the blogs privacy) saying she once claimed on an older blog of hers to be from old tumblr which should make her somewhere around early 30’s, but then came back with a new blog claiming to be the youngest or second youngest Hughes age (I have no idea if Jack or Luke are younger) which is concerning because he was barely a whole human when old tumblr existed. So there isn’t a lot of consistency here with what’s being said from the jump. I was also here during old tumblr and never once saw heard of anything like that happening over 10 years ago so I have my doubts about many things.

It’s amazing what you can find in other blogs tags on here really. I was surprised. But, also not surprised at the same time. It’s amazing what comes to light when you dig a little deeper on hockey gossip tumblr.

Idk what’s going on but it seems like it’s been a few pretty fucked up years on here since all of us old tumblr folk left and came back. It used to be such an open community on here and we could all share without judgement and the only doxxing that happened came about when people accidentally (on purpose) outed themselves more successfully than other people. 😂. Or when a WAG found you and had someone make you delete.(allegedly)😉.

I hope everyone in this situation learns from whatever it is that happened, heals internally and only comes back when they’ve grown from whatever’s going on because there’s a lot of fucked up shit out there on here about other blogs.

The funny thing is that none of us really know each other outside of what anonymous people share about us. Which is why when I’ve sent in asks to other blogs I don’t go anon. Like, yeah I said it, it’s out there.

Again, I won’t say anything else about this as all of this info is free floating around on tumblr if you dig and it’s apparently repeat behaviour so who the hell knows.

If I see any more asks about it respectfully, I will not reply.

❤️

#hockey gossip

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blackfeatherdragon · 1 year ago

Text

YGO Zexal Keyswap AU (AKA an excuse for me to engage in Aztecshipping) (I only thought this out through the WDC arc and even then there's still gaps-)(thanks to my friend usagi for helping me fill in some of these gaps)

(This is a long infodump, look out-)

-While looking for the interdimensional portal, but before adding Kazuma to the team, Byron and Faker made a trip out to a hypothetical location where they thought it would be. Faker didn't find what he was looking for, but Byron did get the Emperor's Key, so that's neat.

-Upon returning home briefly to see his younger sons, Byron gave the Key to Michael, figuring he'd love this kind of artifact.

-(Michael did in fact love it. Little nerd.)

-Byron then returned to his research, and then vanished. Michael and Thomas then end up in the orphanage, with Michael safeguarding what items he has left to remember his father (The Aztec Mask Golem card and the Key).

-Flash forward a few years, Michael is thirteen now, and due to a chain of events I have not worked out yet, the Key is activated and Michael meets Astral.

-(Michael is overjoyed at the interdimensional alien tied to the Key, if a bit annoyed that Astral's amnesiac state means he can't tell him much.)

-Michael also already knows how to play Duel Monsters already, but Astral still tries to backseat duel.

-Insert some Number hunting at the orphanage here. Michael's 'starter' Number is Chronomaly Machu Mech, and the first one he gets off someone else is Shark Drake.

-Eventually, when Michael is fourteen, Christopher/V finally comes back to collect Michael and Thomas from the orphanage. After everyone is reunited at Heartland, Tron performs the rituals to place the crests on Thomas and Michael, then requests that Michael return the Key to him.

-Michael refuses, not willing to sacrifice Astral, and Thomas, realizing that his baby brother and his invisible alien friend aren't safe in this situation, creates an opportunity for Michael to flee by picking a fight with V.

-Michael flees with the Key, only to end up breaking down later because he's now completely separated from his family, so soon after he'd thought he'd have them all back.

-Enter the Tsukumos, who let Michael stay with them for a while while he sorts himself out. He and Yuma start making friends.

-Michael is also encouraged to start attending school due to his age, and he tests into the first year of junior high despite being old enough for second year. This means he's now in the same year as Shark and Rio. This won't be awkward-

--Oh, wait, the whole situation with Shark, Rio, and IV happens. Things get awkward with Shark and Michael having to share a class, especially since Michael can't ask his brother what happened.

-Michael also continues Number hunting, though he's now racing his own brothers and Kaito for Numbers.

-Meanwhile, Yuma has also been getting inexplicably better at duelling? Despite not having Astral to help him? Odd, but okay.

-We finally catch up to where the series would have started. Michael is now fifteen and in second year of junior high, and Yuma has started at junior high as a first year. Finally, Michael and Yuma can be at the same school-

-Yuma also starts getting a bit concerned about the Key and Astral, but doesn't say much about why.

-Number hunting continues. Kaito has a WTF moment when he realizes that the guy scrambling for Numbers is Chris's younger brother

-WDC starts! Michael gets himself entered just fine, Yuma is also remarkably on the ball with entering!

-Michael and IV have at least one run in, then late on the second day Yuma and Michael witness V kidnapping Haruto. Michael only admits that the kidnapper was Christopher before he uses his crest to warp back to the Arclight family hideout in hopes of talking them down.

-But...Yuma is here. Wasn't he with Kaito a moment ago?

-Yeah. About that. Tron didn't like losing a pawn when Michael fled, and decided to just manipulate a new pawn instead of deal with an unwilling participant. And wouldn't you know it, Yuma happened to lose his father to Faker's betrayal, desperately wants to duel, and is kind of gullible, so Tron decided he'd make a good enough target, so long as he doesn't find out about the depths of the plan.

-Yuma got to learn to duel, is promised he'd find out more about what happened to his father, pretty much everything he wanted. Tron also convinces Yuma that the Key is influencing Michael like what the Numbers do to most people, so Yuma is convinced that he needs to help Michael by getting the Key.

-(The only thing keeping Yuma from just grabbing the Key sooner is the fact that Michael keeps it physically on his person as much as humanly possible, a habit picked up in the orphanage since leaving your stuff laying around there was a good way to get your stuff stolen.)

-How did Yuma get there before Michael did? Turns out, Tron decided to crest Yuma too, on the promise that it would let him control Numbers safely and protect him from having his soul taken by people like Kaito. Which was true, but conveniently left out what would happen if he lost while controlling a Number.

-In any case, Yuma, IV, and Michael all spend several minutes trying to convince each other to leave and back down before Kaito finally shows up via Orbital hangglider and forces a duel

-Insert Michael and Kaito VS IV and Yuma duel here. Yuma's signature Number is, of course, Hope.

-Duel ends, IV and Yuma flee, Haruto is returned with Yuma never being told what Tron wanted with Haruto in the first place. Tron claims his plan was simply to try and lure in Faker.

-Michael and Astral are horrified at finding out about Yuma, and end up sheltering with Shark for the night instead of returning to the Tsukumos. It's a good opportunity for Michael to talk to his classmate about what's happening/ask Shark about his interactions with IV and Yuma.

-(Shark got Leviathan Dragon instead of Shark Drake BTW. Michael still has Shark Drake, and IV was tasked with delivering Leviathan Dragon since Yuma wouldn't have wanted to hurt Shark.)

-The next day, Yuma contacts Michael and asks to talk. Talking turns into Yuma trying to get the Key in an attempt to save Michael from its assumed influence, which leads to a duel.

-Yuma finally tells Michael what Tron's been telling him and how he just wants to help/find out what happened to his father, Michael in turn tells Yuma the truth about what Tron wants/what the crest will do if Yuma loses while powerful Numbers are in play.

-They then find a way to loophole the duel's end so no one goes comatose, probably by having Yuma replace Hope with a Number not powerful enough to trip the crest.

-Flash forward a bit to the finals! Michael ends up having to face IV during the course of the finals, during which Tron taunts both of them at once. Michael wins, but is upset knowing his brother will go comatose.

-IV's last message to Michael before leaving is to tell him to keep going.

-IV: "Give Tron hell, Michael, Astral."

-Yuma saves Shark from Tron's influence as per canon, thus revealing that he's defected from Tron's side and knows what's truly up. (Tron's intention was for Shark to beat Yuma and let Yuma be cast aside once his role was done.)

-Michael and Yuma end up facing off one more time before the final. No playing around or loopholes this time, winner faces Tron and they both know it.

-Michael wins, and ends up crying as Yuma goes comatose as a result. However, Yuma does give Michael two new cards before slipping under: his signature monster, Hope, and Chronomaly Atlandis.

-Finally, Michael faces Tron and he's not happy. His brothers and Yuma are in comas, so many people have been hurt by Tron's scheming, and all Michael ever wanted was to have his family back.

-They duel. It's a mess, with Tron and Michael both giving their all, and culminates with Michael and Astral going Zexal.

-(Their Zexal form takes a lot of visual cues from Michael's gladiator outfit from the canon Yuma vs Michael duel, btw.)

-Michael wins, and when Faker takes all the Numbers, Michael attempts to save his father from being dragged in.

-Tron, realizing how far he's gone, releases all the affected souls and lets go of Michael, letting himself be dragged in to at least let Michael live.

-Seeing his father be taken away by Faker for a second time utterly breaks Michael. He decides to enact vengeance on Faker himself, storming off to the tower in a fit of rage, only to be intercepted by Yuma.

-After the breakdown plays out, the two decide to go in together to face Faker.

-Shark and Kaito end up turning up too, with the four all tag teaming against Faker.

-The gang wins, enter the second half of the series with the Barians. The only thing I have planned for the back half so far is Alito shows up and starts trying to flirt with Yuma, resulting in Michael getting jealous for 'some reason'. (He is oblivious to just how he feels about Yuma.)

#yugioh #ygo #yugioh zexal #iii arclight #michael arclight #yuma tsukumo #astral zexal #aztecshipping #keyswap au

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