#brown men should get to be a little feral as a treat

[sgt-mark-smith]

How can a sinner who breaks the first commandment pass judgment?

(Marked this one because there's a little bit of blood)

[karanoid]

about top joe discord

LET ME ADDRESS A FEW POINTS:

There has been many fear and anxiety regardless the top!joe discord I made. I understand how it gives my discord a bad reputation. Somebody has kindly reached out to me to ask me addressing several points, which I’m now gonna clarify:

1. I am racist, I asked why, and they said mostly because of my dismissive behavior to people who called me out for drawing yusuf adorned in gold jewelry which made their friends feel unsafe. So, I am a muslim and was raised in a muslim household and community. I am fucking brown.

I didn’t say it because you don’t need to know that about me. What bothers me is how some people feel the need to come to my inbox informing me “maam yusuf is a religious muslim who prays 5 times a day and do all the supplementary prayers all while he drinks alcohol and fuck nicky in the dailies, he wouldnt be wearing gold maam no maam.” as if I didn’t know any better. so please, now don’t do that. If you care so much about the littlest details like wearing gold then you’ll also call out yusuf because he draws living beings and drinks champagne. yes it’s true muslim men are forbidden from wearing gold AND silk but let’s not forget, nothing in the comic and movies imply yusuf has ever been religious. It’s easier to see nicolo as religious because he was a fucking priest. Yusuf was a fucking merchant, it’s easy to see that he’d be less faithful because he would have been travelling and seen many kind of people to broaden his horizons and not contained to a little bubble of hyper religious community. However, let me remind you: whether yusuf AND nicolo are religious or not is entirely UP TO THE AUTHOR/ARTIST. It’s totally fine to make him religious and if you can respect it THATS GREAT, I ALSO LIKE HIM THAT WAY, but please remember it’s not even canon and hey sometimes I just draw things because I like the aesthetics. Also please, do not harass writers for getting a thing or two incorrect, even white people cannot get christianity correct, even between two muslims could be a disagreement whether this fic’s yusuf is problematic or not. I wouldn’t even expect anything more and THAT’S OKAY. Just don’t be an ass to muslims of color in real life and don’t fall into the believe that it’s a religion of violence. you can say that greg made him that way bc he knew nothing better but hey, I have no problem with that. again, it’s fine to make him religious, I’d be delighted but it’s ALSO fine to make him not religious.

2. I think that people only write Top!Nicky out of political correctness. OKAY. I apologize for this. I thought like this because I have accounts telling me that they were pressured into writing top!nicky or they wanted more readerships so I make a BIG assumption. I realized this is only a small part of switch and top!nicky fics and the big bulk of this must be out of genuine care. So yeah, I apologize for thinking that people only write top!nicky out of political correctness. I think writers should be allowed to write whatever they want. Yes this includes top!Nicky. And in whatever kinks they want it. However, this still doesn’t change that the discourses do scare people away from writing top!joe. Write top!nicky however you want, but stop vague-blogging about top!joe. racism isn’t inherent to top!joe and you can always remind people to be mindful with their writings but discouraging people from writing top!joe is not the solution. 

3. Top!joe is racist and people in the discord are racist. Okay, I am gonna touch several aspects why top!joe discord is considered racist: (1) because I don’t like to switch them, therefore I am racist. Sorry that’s not how it works. I have a clear preference and that’s just how I roll. Besides, a lot of people in the discord (including me) think either they switch (because they are 900 yo) or joe just doesn’t like bottoming. I’m not the kind of people who refers to reality for fiction I consume but people who prefer to top or to bottom exist (2) i want to be away from accountability and responsibility. Nope. The reason I made it is because I wanted to gather people with same interest as mine. 

4. I paint Yusuf as aggressive and the whole discord like him being an aggressive top. I think this is the only reason why the discord is seen in a negative light. Because wow what a coincidence that someone vagueblogged my discord at the day I celebrated about Nicky suggesting 20 years and wrote a post about how Joe is allowed to be angry. And beside someone made the WRONG assumption that we are focusing on Joe’s anger and violence (what). Okay, I don’t know how to break this down. But I will try. First, yes I was overjoyed at the news. Because I’m one of the people that do not like feral!nicky headcanon. I liked it at first bc it was funny but then it was twisted into Nicky being cold. So I don’t like it (lol), I still like it though but like I don’t seriously think that way. However, I never liked the idea that Nicky suggested higher than Joe. Because then his character just doesn’t click with me, there was a cognitive dissonance for me because joe clearly says nicky’s heart overflows kindness, you can see nicky as a medic in the credit montage. Also, from their body language and from the way the movie set em up, I think Joe is the one who suggested higher and I am glad to be proven right. Second, I did write a post about how Joe is allowed to be angry at Booker. People agreed with me, so I was not alone. But the reason I wrote that post is not because I wanted to paint yusuf as aggressive, but because I’m tired at people who think Joe shouldn’t display any negative emotions. I think it’s out of character. I do NOT think Joe is aggressive. That is NOT his wholeass personality. If you looked at my tog art tag, never once I portrayed Joe as anything aggressive. If I do, please show me. Third, people are conflating this with my post where I reblogged with a comment that implies aggressive Joe isn’t racism. Okay in this, the context is IN BED. It’s Joe being aggressive in BED. It’s literally BED ROLES AND FANTASY. I don’t even have a particular scenario in my head when I reblogged that, the original post clearly refers to bed roles with manhandling and kinks etc. like, why would you spank someone in public? Lastly, about the discord, NOPE, most people in the discord agree that Joe is either a GENTLE DOM or SERVICE TOP. But in my opinion, if someone likes Joe as an aggressive top (again, bed roles baby) I really don’t think it’s racism. It’s just... projection? 

anyway, back to joe’s emotions, these are posts from a moroccan man (paragraph #7) and a brown woman whose posts I agree with. Let’s be real, people of color are expected to shut up in favor of white people’s fragile feelings.

Now, about racism in fandom. I understand the concern because muslim men are painted as violent and aggressive. You know what I will never forgive those radicals for taking away innocents lives and to leave a lasting damage in how muslims are perceived in the west. However, you have to keep in mind, Joe in the movie is far from being stereotyped. I mean, Gina and Marwan practically greenlit him? Now, you might have concerns that writers are gonna turn him into a walking stereotype which is... okay, I understand that concern. But the solution is to communicate this ‘hey I think you make him too stereotypical in this etc etc’ not “write more top!nicky AND shame top!joe” because again, top!joe is not inherently racist.

also some people mentioned that they hope I recognize racial bias in the ship. dude, that goes without saying, all aspects of your life will be influenced by racial biases. however, this kind of thing is not specific to fandom/shipping. Like I said I’m fucking brown, friends and families with facial features that cater to white expectation are treated better. I did say at the bottom of this post, yeah I did notice why it’s always a brown character who’s always openly mad. And that’s in itself a form of racial bias. Racial biases affect everyone, white or POC, it doesn’t matter. But I got an issue with how people think this is racism. like how convenient, if by falling to racial biases mean you are a racist then what about those white people who created this racial biases in the first place? and I noticed the persons who got the audacity to cry about everything in this fandom is white?? I mean okay, they don’t know what I am, but not everyone is comfortable with sharing their private information like ethnic group, faith, etc. what if they really don’t want to share it? Because like you said, racial bias, whether good or bad will affect me. Now, I don’t know what white people are feeling, I’m not white. However, based on my interactions with them. We’re all just people sharing same interest, it could be they fall into racial biases, but all we shared about are just regular HCs. Even people making a conscious effort to combat racial bias still in essence fall for racial bias. You just cannot escape it.

According to this post, fandom assumes that the bottom is the proxy of writers, I don’t think this is applicable to everyone but let’s just say it’s true and people tend to write about their projection better so I’m gonna assume the racism part comes from the fact that..yeah I do think the bottom usually gets more fleshed out as a result of them being the writers proxy, so somebody posted this in the discord which I agree because yes I do think there’s a lack about yusuf’s background especially when it comes to crusade era:

but since I know most writers aren’t muslims, to me it’s not so much about racism but they simply know nothing about it, and not always out of ignorance either but in this climate, if you get a thing or two wrong you’d get harassed. so *shrugs* I understand the reluctancy. But here’s the thing, this is not about top/bottom issue but because most of the fandom are white so they have more freedom in writing the white character. Anyway, plenty of people have projected themselves into yusuf already, the whole “top/bottom” thing in this fandom is not even a thing. Yes, some writers project on the bottom so if you prefer bottom!joe that’s fine, somebody in the discord is doing a research and it turned out top!joe wasn’t even a CLEAR majority in JULY. So clearly they got their share already?

so please, let’s stop with the vitriol. if people are preferring top!joe it’s clearly because of different preferences. it’s not that deep. it’s the same way with how some people are preferring top!nicky. But we’re being driven out based on a hypothetical scenarios? like what do you want? for us to cease existing??? don’t be ridiculous.

I know people won’t listen to me. So this is my suggestion: LETS JUST IGNORE THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE. LET’S ALL JUST AGREE TO DISAGREE. 

[rocorambles]

Ugh Oikawa would definitely baby his s/o as a punishment when they’re acting out. He only speaks in a simple condescending way and like buys them stuffed animals and children’s books to humiliate them.

I was originally going to write this as darker content, but the recent ask about Oikawa brat taming inspired me to change this up into just some spicy harsh brat-taming with some fluff to top it off. 

Warnings: NSFW, Brat Taming, Infantilism, Age Play 

Oikawa and you can both be brats. There’s no question about that, but as strange as it is, it just works. There’s always been balance between the two of you and the dynamic never gets out of hand. It’s usually a fun game of push and pull between the two of you, but recently you’ve been a menace. 

Oikawa likes to think he has a good amount of patience when it comes to you and he understands more than anyone that you being a brat towards him is just your strange way of showing your love for him and seeking his attention. He’s the exact same way after all. But your bratty attitude and actions are usually interspersed with enough dollops of genuine and sincere words and acts of affection for him to let you get away with just a cheeky pinch or light smack of your ass. Not recently however. 

He and you both know his inferiority complex is his most vulnerable trait and you never play around with that, no matter how much of a brat you are. You’d never give him a second, even at your worst, to believe you’d leave him for someone else. So imagine the hurt and shock he felt when you purposefully sneer at him, making direct eye contact with chocolate brown eyes before approaching another man at the bar, exaggeratedly flirting right in front of Oikawa. And when the stranger slings an arm around your hip, far too low and close to your ass, Oikawa is already up and out of his seat, angrily storming towards the two of you.  

The next few minutes are a blur of tense words and a bruising grip on your arm as you’re forcefully dragged out of the bar and shoved into a sleek sports car and despite the way you wince and gingerly rub your arm after Oikawa finally relinquishes his grip, a part of you preens at finally getting a rise out of your lover, already excitedly anticipating what “punishment” he has in store for you when you get home. 

But it’s your turn to be surprised when you’re dragged into your shared home and Oikawa stalks past the bedroom and you whimper when he pulls you towards the extra bedroom the two of you had left empty for whenever the two of you were ready to have a family of your own. You try to dig your heels into the floor, asking him what he’s planning, but your attempts are futile against his strength and you’re promptly shoved into the baby blue room and tucked into bed. You panic when he immediately turns to leave, not even bothering to spare you a single unnecessary touch, and you grip onto his sleeve before he can get far. You fumble over your words, unsure how to phrase what you want to ask, but Oikawa knows you all too well and before you can embarrass yourself further, he cuts in.   

“What? Does my little baby want me to touch her? Do you think you deserve anything from me after the little stunt you pulled? If you want to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like one. You’re staying in this nursery until I feel like you’re finally acting like a big girl.” 

You heart sinks when he firmly shuts the door behind him and the light of the glow in the dark star stickers above your head only taunt you as you lay in bed alone. But you’ve always been stubborn and the next few days become a game of will power as you fight the humiliation you feel when he comes in to dress you in childish, girly clothing, slapping your hand away and scolding you whenever you try to touch your clothes yourself, cooing at you for looking so adorable. You glare at him as he insists on hand feeding you tiny bite-sized cuts of food and only lets you drink from a sippy cup. But the worst moments are when he lies in bed besides you and makes you cuddle a stuffed animal instead of him as he reads you a children’s bedtime story. Your thighs clench at how close he is, how you can feel the warmth of his body next to you, how you can smell his scent. But frustration wells inside of you at being unable to touch him how you want to, at being denied his more intimate touches. And after a week of being babied and coddled and touch starved, you break. 

Oikawa’s come to get his baby girl all ready for the day, but he smirks at the sight of you on your knees before him, clutching at his legs and babbling all sorts of depraved promises and apologies. 

“Tooru, I’m sorry! I promise I’ll be a good girl. Please touch me. Please let me sleep with you. I can be a big girl! I won’t talk to any more strangers or let bad men touch me ever again. I only want you. I only love you!” 

The handsome brunette coos down at you as he lowers himself until he’s face level with you and you eagerly let yourself be pulled into his lap as you throw you arms around his neck and nuzzle your face into his chest, tucking your head underneath his chin. 

“Was that so hard, cutie? All you needed to do was apologize. You could have had all of me sooner if you just behaved. Go ahead. Take everything you want from me as a reward for being such a good girl.” 

And it’s like a feral beast unleashes itself inside of you as you desperately claw at his pants, barely pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring out before you’re sinking onto him and bouncing on top of him, moaning and panting like a whore as Oikawa just sits back and watches, murmuring words of encouragements and praise as he casually tweaks your nipples and circles your clit. But it’s not enough and Oikawa smirks as you plead for him to help you. 

“Are you sure you’re a big girl? Big girls can take care of themselves. Maybe I should still keep on punishing you. Maybe you’re not ready to be a big girl. Awww look at you. Tearing up like a little baby just because I won’t touch you. Well, I suppose I can help you out a bit. Can’t have my precious little girl crying now can we?” 

The humiliation from his words only fuels the twisting arousal inside of you and you wail as he begins to thrust his hips in time with your bounces, sinking deeper, faster, and harder into you, filling your aching deprived pussy as his hands clutch onto your waist, aiding with your rise and fall until you’re bottoming out on his cock with every movement. And it only takes a few more sharp thrusts before you’re falling apart on top of him, cunt clenching so tight around him that he struggles to continue sliding in and out of you as he chases his own end. But at the sight of your pretty little fucked out face with eyes rolled back and tongue lolling out of your drooling mouth, he empties himself inside of you and the two of you sit there in each other’s arms as you come back down from your peaks. 

Exhausted, you doze off in his arms as soothing hands wash you and pamper you, and by the time you come back around, you’re laying in your king sized bed, long sinewy arms wrapped around you and you sleepily smile as Oikawa and you lock eyes. But reality hits and you guiltily look down and curl into your lover. 

“Tooru, I really am sorry. I never should have blatantly flirted with some other man, especially just as a way to get back at you. I just- I came across one of your fan blogs and they were saying they were saying you deserved someone so much better than me and I-”

You can’t even choke out the rest of your words as tears stream down your face and you sob into your lover’s toned chest, but a calloused hand gently nudges your face up until you’re staring into chocolate brown eyes once again. 

“I wish you had just talked to me and told me how you felt, but you know none of that is true, right? I love you. There’s no one else for me.” Your heart flutters at the look in his eyes and the two of you tenderly lock lips. But you roll your eyes when the two of you separate at the teasing and sweet tone of the next sentence that comes rolling out from his lips. 

“Plus no one else is as bratty as you, so we’re a match made in heaven! OW Mean! You’re spending too much time with Iwa-chan.” 

Oikawa pretends to sniffle and cry over your playful smack, insisting that you kiss him better and the two of you fall into giggles as you huff with frustration but oblige him, peppering wet sloppy kisses all over his face as he disgustedly shrieks at you. But when all is said and done, the two of you fall asleep that night, minds at peace and faces graced with smiles as your chests rise and fall in time with each other. 

[savagesbonergarage]

Nightsister OC pics and backstory ❤️

So I kinda got my Nightsister oc worked out today!

Meet Eilantha!

No makeup and with makeup since I like both. :) I know her outfit is Rey’s, but it turned out to be the one I liked best after going through all of them. This was so much fun to do! I’m on mobile rn so I don’t have a link, but search ‘rinmaru star wars avatar creator’ and it should be the first result.

The nightbrother is also an oc called Sever. He’s more bulky in my head and his tattoos are different and more brown than black, but whatevs. Also he looks more like a teenager here, which is NOT the vibe, lads. Mans is in his late 20's-early 30's. 👍

I know I’m sorta biased and all since she’s mine, but I’m in love with her? I’m not a huge fan of the Nightsisters and their misandry and general terrible-ness, but this girl is the exception. 💕 Learn more about her under the cut if you’d like. :)

She was born in 46BBY, making her around 27 in the final year of the clone wars. From the time she was a youngling it was clear that she had a natural affinity for magicks and spellcasting, which allowed her to participate in more advanced rituals and rites from an early age. This inevitably caused some contention among the sisters in her age group that felt this privilege was wasted on her, and therefore she had few friends during her time within the coven. She didn’t really mind, as she preferred to spend her days on her own anyway, learning as much as she could about whatever she fancied (usually spells that piqued her interest whose texts she discreetly snuck from within the cavern).

When she wasn’t studying, she loved music - writing, playing, and singing. It wasn’t anything like the typical malicious sounds of tribal chanting and drums you’d hear from within the grotto; not that she didn’t appreciate that also as she practiced it well, but her heart leaned toward a softer, more soothing genre of arias and melodies, bordering on lullabies based on her wanderlust, and, though she’d never admit it, her loneliness.

As she reached adulthood, she underwent the trials for her dark baptism as all Sisters did, which consisted of returning from a challenging hunt to add a token from her kill to the Water Of Life, and receiving her ichor tattoos that signified her coming-of-age before being ritualistically bathed in the ominous liquid which sanctioned her as an active member of the Nightsisters.

After this, I have two different routes (or however many, depending on who I’m shipping her with at the moment 😅 bc I ship her with everyone, no lie) that I like to take with her story. The first is expanded upon in the fic by @fallenrepublick here (still my favorite thing!) where she starts sneaking away into the nightbrother village and befriends Savage and Feral before they go through Asajj’s selection trails. This is the nicer, less-traumatic arc.

This next one gets really, really dark. I'm not going to post it all here bc honestly this post doesn't need all that angst, so I'll save that for later. Essentially, I like to think that Eilantha did at one time have a nightbrother of her own (Sever) that she actually loved, rather than treated as a slave. As you can imagine it doesn't end well, but we're not gonna get into that. We'll talk about how they meet. :)

Instead of sneaking away to the village, Eilantha is pressured into conducting her own selection trails by Mother Talzin. She doesn’t inherently have any reason to object, after all, she was taught that this is was simply the way of things. Part of her even looked forward to obtaining a manservant, whose loyalty would belong to her and her alone.

Perhaps he’d be a useful asset when it came to sneaking spelltomes to and from the vaults, and maybe he’d even be the only one staying by her side while she practiced her songs. What if he’d even appreciate them? Not that he’d have much of a choice, but the thought was comforting nonetheless.

From the moment she stepped foot in the village, all she could focus on was the feeling of the uneasy and fearful gazes of the men who undoubtedly knew more of what was to come than she did. She chose her roster at random, unsure of what she should have really been looking for or what she actually wanted from a servant. Even before the fighting, she knew deep down that she didn’t want to inflict any unnecessary harm on them…but why? From what she’d overheard at home, the violence was half the fun.

It wasn’t.

She evaded and blocked every blow with ease, yet avoided retaliating and taking the offensive in any manner that would prove fatal, causing the battle to go on far longer than anticipated to the point where Brother Viscus insisted that she take the next opening for the kill. With reluctance, the blade of her weapon collided with the ribs of the next brother to reveal himself a target. She watched in horror as the light faded from his hateful, reflective eyes, and she was nearly sick. She didn’t want to do it, but it had been done, and it couldn’t be undone. His body thudded against the ground and she screamed.

“Enough!”

The battlefield went silent, and as she came to her senses she attempted to save face.

“I’ll have none of them!”

Before Brother Viscus could interject with any alternative propositions, she was gone. She ran, fleeing as far away across the rocky terrain as she could. She didn’t cry; at least not until she was certain she was alone. She felt so pathetic - Nightbrothers were meant to be disposable, yet she couldn’t handle killing one. Her shame shifted into heartbreak, and she crouched low and wept for the death of the brother she’d just caused, as well as for all those who came before him. All the needless, thankless, mindless deaths of these men whose lives may not have mattered to the Sisters, but they mattered to someone.

As night fell, she trudged along the jagged landscape and thought of what explaination she’d give to Mother Talzin upon returning home. She had run in the opposite direction of where her speeder was stationed at the base of the village, so she had plenty of time to consider on the long journey back. She casually hummed a tune to herself in some meager attempt to self-soothe, which served to distract the shadow that had been trailing her for some time. The sound of a twig snapping in the rocks behind her alerted her to the presence and she confronted him.

"Are you lost?" she asked in a derogatory tone after he revealed himself.

"I'm not."

Of course not, this was his home, after all. She couldn't say the same for herself, however, she pressed him further.

"Then why are you following me? I never asked for an escort."

The amber-skinned nightbrother looked as though he were choosing his words carefully, though if his aim was self-preservation he'd done a terrible job of it.

"I saw you crying."

Eilantha was hit with a pang of embarrassment, though she feigned otherwise as her eyes met the ground.

"Well, you can forget what you saw. Now leave me alone."

She turned away, but the brother remained there in quiet contemplation before he spoke again.

"I've never seen a Sister cry. I've never seen a Sister feel."

Something about those words struck her directly in her heart. The confirmation that she was inherently considered to be a heartless monster in the view of these villagers hurt a little more than anticipated, though she had no right to refute it. No amount of apologies would ever remedy the divide that separated the Nightsisters from the Nightbrothers, regardless of how she felt. She clenched her fist as she turned to face him again.

“I said, leave me alone. Don’t make me-”

She actually choked on her words, unable to say the rest.

Don’t make me put you in your place.

Despite her partial warning, the nightbrother stepped closer. He grabbed the edge of his already tattered tunic and tore a piece of it off, inspecting it for cleanliness before holding it out to her. Eilantha froze, uncertain of what to make of this interaction.

“You aren’t done,” he explained.

She hadn’t realized that her hot tears continued pouring down her cheeks during her retort. She accepted the cloth with some reluctance, her dainty fingers lightly brushing against his as she took it and dabbed it against her wet face. He promptly turned and started walking away, as instructed. This strange...kindness, or rather, strange act of servitude via obligation perturbed the young witch, whose thoughts were now fixated solely on the zabrak male.

“Wait, Brother,” she implored.

He paused, resuming his attention to her after hearing the endearing use of “brother” from a Sister’s lips for the first time. She continued, an unusual softness in her tone.

“What is your name?”

“It’s Sever,” he revealed, “May I ask yours, Sister?”

She repeated his name in her mind, determined never to lose it.

“Eilantha.”

He did the same, only out loud. Gods, it was an enticing sound.

"Will you be returning?"

This was a question she wasn't prepared to receive, and one that she herself didn't fully know the answer to. Her reply was engineered from a concerned sigh.

"I'm not sure. It might be problematic returning to the coven empty-handed. I may come back, I may not. I don't know what the future holds."

Sever pursed his lips slightly.

"If you do find yourself here again, will you..."

He coughed into his fist and centered himself before continuing.

"Will you consider me?"

Her eyes shot up to meet his hopeful gaze, a golden yellow in the night. She had a hunch as to what he was alluding to, but a little clarification was needed.

"Consider you...?"

He swallowed, his countenance displaying concern that perhaps he was stepping too far out-of-bounds this time, but he wanted to know all the same.

"As your mate."

Eilantha clutched the piece of fabric in her hand. This man was offering himself to her. The images of all the nightbrothers staring her down when she first arrived with fear in their faces raced through her mind, revealing the dread the men felt when they were met with her kind, and yet this one was volunteering. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or angry, as any other Sister likely would be at a savage that dared to seek special permissions. Of course, she wasn't like that.

Imagining him as her mate, however, was certainly...something. She thought of how she would discover just how much of him was tattooed and he would learn the same of her. She could claim him right then and there if she wanted, and he would be obliged to obey. It would solve her worries about returning home if she decided on a servant after all, although, her soul was unsteady. Though she was entitled to any male she desired, she couldn't allow herself to do it. Even though this man was offering, it would weigh on her conscience knowing that even a part of him would only be with her out of fear and obligation, rather than his own free will. This nightbrother wasn't free. None of them were.

"I'll consider it," she replied genuinely.

This news seemed to please him to some extent, a tiny smirk curling at the corner of his lip.

"I'll look forward to the possibility of serving you, Sister Eilantha."

She watched as he turned a final time and disappeared further into the darkness, leaving her alone with her busied mind.

The course was set for the Nightsister temple once she finally got to her speeder, servant-less. She looked over her shoulder to see multiple pairs of glowing golden eyes quizzically prying at her in the darkness, and she smiled before taking off.

It was a long journey home, and the entire trip her mind was occupied with thoughts of the intriguing zabrak male who saw her for what she truly was. She pulled out the tattered cloth from her pocket and pressed it against her chest as the wind rushed all around her before bringing it to her lips and kissing it.

It became her greatest treasure.

That is, until she finally had the real deal in her arms months later when the separation became too much to bear, and they arranged to meet in secret during their first rendezvous of many.

Sever, my treasure.

[horrorslashergirl]

Chromeskull blackmailing the reader after he sees her kill her abusive father. Her father use to let Jesse use his funeral parlor and such so now the reader has to as well It's tense at first but Jesse ends up gaining feelings for and readers unsure what she feels about him until he saves her life from home invader. Sorry for the word vomit. 😊

Not exactly what you wanted, but I hope it turned out right at last 50%

Chromeskull x Reader- Farewell Job

There were a few things that Jesse Cromeans disliked, down from having his car scratched to a wrinkled suit, the most were when someone was in debt to him and the fucker had the audacity to play dumb and not answer his texts, especially the threatening ones. Normally, he would let his co-workers deal with such insignificant concerns, but none ignored Jesse Chromeskull Cromeans and got away without at last a broken wrist.

That's why he was driving at midnight full-on speed down the road to the funeral house where the old geezer was doing his business, and where Jesse sometimes decapitated his piggies. He couldn't wait to sink his knife into the man's back, maybe skin his legs off? He will have time to think about it once he has him bound to a chair begging for his life.

After one hour of speeding down and ignoring red lights, he managed to get to the said funeral house, parking the Bentley as the engine's sound died down into the silence of the night. Getting out of the car, he put on the chromed skull mask, smirking at the familiar coldness of it. He took the silver suitcase and waltzed to the front entrance which was surprisingly open.

No wonder...The disgusting bastard had a habit of drinking and always forgot to lock it. Not the first time.

Jesse expected to see the old scumbag passed down on a chair or better yet on the floor, blackout drunk, but imagine the surprised behind the silver mask when he saw the man on the floor with his head bashed in, brains spilling out.

Well, that is surely unexpected.

The old and rusty skin close by with pieces of the brain was probably the primary weapon.

Someone got here first.

Jesse took one step towards the corpse and he heard a door open and felt something sharp slash the black material of his coat along with a slightly deep wound of his biceps.

Brown eye locked on a feral face twisted into a deadly scowl that promised murder. The culprit was a female, young, and was ready to aim another hit, but Jesse was quicker and he knocked what looked like a scalpel from the tiny hand. His hand fisted her shirt and slammed her against the wall, pinning her there.

Despite the position she was in, no fear was in her eyes that were bloodshot, probably from lack of sleep. She was still snarling like she wanted to bite his head off.

"Let me go or I will cut your balls off!" You screamed at him, nails digging into the sleeves of his coat, trying to inflict some type of pain.

Jesse waisted little no time and after some struggling and an almost painful hit to his manhood, he had you bound to a chair, glaring at him with acidic eyes.

For someone so small you sure were a feisty one. He smirked behind the mask at your immobilized form. He couldn't recall the last time he was faced with such a dangerous piggy.

His usual piggies were always begging, pleading for their lives, or just running away, but fighting back was a low occurrence. To say the least, he was impressed, not many had hurt him and you did it so well, the stinging in his biceps hurt like a bitch, but Jesse was used to being stabbed and shot, all the tattoos of covering up his scars were proof to that.

He was looming over you, debating what he should do. He was so tempted to rip your jaw off, but that wasn't the primary reason why he was here. He needed some information because the fucker that was in debt to him was dead.

Jesse pulled out his phone and quickly typed in.

'Who are you, piggy?'

You arched an eyebrow at the tall man.

"Why should I answer you?"

WITTY PIGGY.

'Because I can do worse than what happened to that corpse over there.'

"The fucker had it coming." You found yourself muttering under your breath.

That piqued Jesse's interest. You seemed to speak with venom when mentioned about the old male.

'Related?'

"Father....But why the fuck do you even care?!" Your aggressive demeanor quickly came back and Jesse had to admit the way your brows were furrowing and eyes blazing with fury were kind of cute.

'Because your DEAR father owns me a lot of money.'

"Not my fucking problem." You snarled and in the dim light, Jesse could see the old purple bruises around your left eye, along with deep fingerprints on your neck.

Not done by him. It didn't take a genius to figure out what your father did to you. No wonder you were like a tiger that came out of a circus cage, ready to destroy everything in your path.

'I must admit, you put on a good show. I'm impressed.'

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, jerk." You snorted.

Jesse licked his lips behind the mask, so tempted to use that mouth of yours for other things that cursing him out.

Yes, killing you won't get him any benefice, although he was tempted to cut your tongue off.

'You own me.'

You spat on his silver mask, making his chest rumble like he was ready to pounce you, but Jesse composed himself.

"I don't own you shit." You muttered in a murderous tone and if Jesse could talk he sure would laugh.

'You have no idea in what deepness you are, little girl.'

You internally groaned at the use of his words, always been treated like you were some hopeless child that couldn't stand up for themselves.

Well, tonight you proved everyone wrong by your masterpiece a few feet away from you two.

"Care to enlighten me why?" you asked, curious about what he was implying.

The skull masked man's broad shoulders moved up and down, silently chuckling at your blind eyes of what was happening. He began to type, this time taking a little longer.

'Tell me if I am wrong, but you just killed someone and you will most likely go to jail, despite that you will say that it was in pure defense. Judges these days aren't so merciful, doll. You wouldn't want to rot between four walls of concrete, would you now?'

You swallowed down at the electronic voice, nibbling on your lower lip in thought. As much as you hated it, he was right and by your expression, his body language spoke of satisfaction.

Egocentric jerk.

Here goes the typing again.

'But I am willing to make you a sweet deal that will assure you freedom. Your father owned me cash that you couldn't make even if you sucked on old men cocks all your life.'

You felt disgusted and if your hands were free you would have shown that phone down the man's throat.

"You're saying that...."

'Work for me and you will be safe.'

"Doesn't sound like freedom to me."

'Better than jail, no?'

Winning asshole.

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

Your opinion on Jesse Cromeans was that he was a man which you would love go gauge his remaining brown eye out, that was the first month, but in time you learned to live with him being your 'boss'.

Nothing screamed dream job than cleaning the mess after the killings of your boss.

If you looked that over you could say that your life was at last perfect. He always made sure you had everything you needed and you couldn't be happier; down from expensive clothing to delicious rich food, you were spoiled, so different from your past life.

You were currently scrubbing down the tiles of a bathroom after a 'piggy' as your boss liked to call them had her guts spilled out. You whipped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, then you heard footsteps approach.

When you turned around you were meet with the scarred face of Jesse, the black eyepatch covering the empty socket of his eye, the remaining brown one observing your work.

'You get better and better.' he signed.

The first thing that Jesse did when you agreed to work for him was to take you to ASL lessons because typing over again on his phone was irritating.

"I take that was a compliment." you muttered, throwing the rags into a black bag to be burned.

'Are you free tonight?' he signed.

"Another murder scene that needs to be cleaned?" you asked, disposing of your gloves.

Jesse chuckled silently and stepped to your form, taking your chin between his fingers, your eyes moving from his face to his full inked forearms. His hand left your chin to sign.

'No. Dinner tonight. I've got you a nice dress and shoes.' he signed, making you look at him dumbfounded.

"B-But you're my boss and-" you tried to reason, but a finger pressed to your lips.

You wanted to yell at him that this was forbidden, not to mention the age gap between the two of you.

'Taboo? You know I am notorious for being a nonconformist.' he signed with a smug smirk.

You rolled your eyes and stepped away from him, exiting the warehouse and walking outside.

"You are contemptible." you mused and Jesse followed after you.

'So? Tonight? At 7?' he insisted, ignoring your insults.

You couldn't deny that it was tempting. He wasn't like any other man, always sybaritic, fast-living, and exorbitant luxurious vibes.

You could swear that he was the perfect incarnation of pride, not that you minded, because it was attractive, just like the forbidden fruit. You knew how poisonous he was, but the sweetest taste was mind-blowing.

"Do I have to wear heels?" you asked, making him grin, his arms wrapping around your waist, a squeak leaving your lips at the sudden touch.

His expression spoke more: 'What do you think?'

You groaned, resting your forehead against his chest.

"You own me big time for this."

[vannahfanfics]

Hello! Can I request some Hawks/Fuyumi (huwumi) from bnha with the prompt 11. Moonlight (Grace Vanderwaal) or any other prompt you think that might fit them? I really love these two together 'cause they have so much potential as a couple considering their plot in the manga. I hope you can write something about them. Thank you :)

Thank you for your patience. At long last, here’s your story! I hope you enjoy it and always feel free to request again!

Two-Toned

“Oh, dear,” Fuyumi sighed. “Is it really that latealready?” She was frowning deeply as she gazed nervously out of the spaciouswindow beside her desk in her currently empty classroom. Above the silhouettedskyline, the night sky was enveloping the world in its gentle, dark embrace.The moon was a slim crescent, diminishing the amount of light it was able tocast upon the world, and the stars were blotted out by a combination of bothwispy gray clouds and the light pollution of the populated city- meaning thatthe only things that would illuminate Fuyumi’s way home were the puddles oflight splashing down on the sidewalk from the flickering lampposts. She hadn’tmeant to stay in the school building so late grading papers, but once she goton a roll, it was very difficult to pry her attention away from her task. “Oh,dear,” she tutted once more to herself, but there was nothing for it; she hadto get home at some point, after all, and it wouldn’t do to stay out any laterthan this. She quickly gathered her things into her spacious satchel beforescurrying out of the door, being sure to lock her classroom behind her.

Fuyumi reflexively clutched her bag close to her hipas she scurried quickly and purposefully down the sidewalk. It wasn’t like shehad anything valuable to the average person. The act of grounding herself tothe bag seemed to alleviate her anxieties somewhat, but only just. Even withheroes patrolling the city day and night, the streets at night were still adangerous place for a young woman such as herself. Besides, despite everything,many crimes went unpunished and even unwitnessed to heroes, because they simplycouldn’t be everywhere at once, and if criminals had proved anything, they wereadaptable and cunning. If I could just make it to the train station, I’ll bejust fine, she told herself with a small gulp. Statistically speaking,crime rates were still relatively low, so the chances of anyone hassling Fuyumiwere favorable.

As it turned out, statistics were not in herfavor that evening.

A shiver crawled up her spine as a sharp wolf-whistlepierced the cool night air. The fine hairs on the back of her neck began toraise as thudding, heavy footsteps overshadowed her own light, feverish ones.She knew that someone was walking behind her, perhaps even multiple someones. Staycalm, she told herself as she dug her trembling fingers further into thebrown fabric of her satchel. If she stopped and acknowledged them, then she waspretty much allowing herself to become a victim. She cast a fervid glance intothe glass window of the next building she passed; her face paled frightfully asshe caught glimpses of two male figures tromping behind her own reflection.They were very obviously staggering drunk. Stay calm, she remindedherself. Even her inner voice was squeaking in fright.

“Hey, baby. It’s a little late to be out by yourself,”slurred one of the strangers. Invisible hackles raised over her shoulders atthe proximity of his sluggish voice. Involuntarily, her pace quickened untilshe was jogging feverishly down the street. The train station was close, right?Her fear-fogged mind was mixing up the directions that had become secondnature. Suddenly, the buildings didn’t look familiar; had she somehow made awrong turn? Surely not, she thought she recognized that little cake shop on thecorner, but then again, maybe it just looked a lot like the one she bought amuffin and coffee from every morning. Was it even a cake shop at all?

Her breath came in ragged gasps as fear and exertionbegan to overtake her system. Dammit, she should have invested in that pepperspray like Natsuo told her to! She could hear the men laughing raucously behindher and their slamming footsteps.

“Why are you running, doll?”

“Yeah, we just want to chat! The night is young! Let’sgo drinkin’!”” the other yowled not unlike a feral beast on the chase. Scaredtears began to sting Fuyumi’s eyes as she desperately repeated “train station,train station” under her breath like a prayer. The soles of her flats scrapedloudly against the sidewalk as she whirled around a corner, hoping the suddenand athletic movement would be too much for the drunkards to replicate. It was;they cursed angrily as they slammed halfway against the brick corner andtumbled over some silver trash bins. Had Fuyumi executed her plan perfectly,she would have created enough distance between them to escape. However, it wasclear that luck had abandoned her. She whimpered pitifully as she staredwide-eyed and tearfully at the eight-foot-tall dirty brick wall that wasobstructing her path.

“Aw, doll, you just wanted to find somewhere private?How nice of ya,” one of the drunks crooned before giving a disgusting, loudbelch. Stay calm, stay calm, you just have to catch them by surprise andpush by, Fuyumi told herself frantically as she whirled on her heel andfaced her stalkers. She gulped loudly as she held her satchel up to her chest,almost like a shield. Their hulking forms eclipsed the little amount of lightpouring in from the lit street; their shadows stretched yards, ending rightbefore Fuyumi’s quivering form. “Don’t be scared, doll,” echoed the sing-songvoice laced with ill intent. “We just want to have a nice talk over a couple o’drinks.”

“You look like such a pretty, nice lady. You’llindulge us, right?” the other cooed in a false soothing façade.

“I am not interested,” she stated clearly. Her voicewas much stronger and firmer than her frantic soul; even in this state, shecould somehow summon her teacher’s scolding voice. “Please excuse me.” It was afool’s thought to think that politeness would get her anywhere with thesethugs. All she earned in response were a pair of bitter resounding laughs.Fuyumi reflexively backed up against the wall as they continued to lumbertowards her, swaying like nightmarish beasts.

“Why the hurry?”

“Yeah, all you uptight girls just need to let looseand have a little fuuuuuuun,” he stretched out the word into a slurred drawlthat made every inch of Fuyumi’s skin crawl. As one of them neared close enoughfor arm’s reach, she snatched up the closest discarded item- a splintered slabof plywood- and lashed out at him.

“Get away from me!” she screeched. Her attacksurprised him and his reflexed weren’t exactly stellar given his immenseinebriation, so the hunk of wood actually connected with his skull.Unfortunately, the wood was half-rotted and thin to begin with, so rather thanknocking him out, it snapped in half on contact and only served to infuriatehim. Fuyumi yelped as he roughly grabbed the remaining piece of wood and yankedit right out of her hands to toss it down the alleyway. The clouds parted justenough to allow the sliver of the moon to shine down on the harrowing sceneunfolding in the alleyway; the thin trail of blood leaking from the gash in hisforehead glowed like a fiery ruby, matching the flame of anger burning deep inthe dark pits of his eyes.

“Lady,” he snarled, “That hurt.” Fuyumi inhaledsharply and pressed back so hard against the wall that the indentations of thebrickwork were sure to be imprinted into her skin. Her knees buckled againstone another and refused to unlock, leaving her just a quivering, vulnerablemess. Was this really it? Was she really just going to stand there and be avictim? She always prided herself in being strong and capable, willful androbust, but it was like every ounce of her courage had been siphoned away withthat one dreadful, murderous look. She begged her body to do something,anything, but it refused to comply. She could almost see the cloud of mistpouring from her mouth as her entire body froze into a block of ice. She turnedher attention to desperate, silent prayers, calling out on instinct to herfamily.

Natsuo. Shoto. In her addled state, she would eventake her shitbag of a father.

“Someone, please save me,” she breathed as fourgroping hands reached for her, unseen in the dark of the moonlit night.

“Now, that is no way to treat a young lady.”

“Oh!” Fuyumi exclaimed as her red-and-white hair andthe loose fabric of her dress ruffled wildly with the onslaught of a sudden,swirling wind. The air rang with the fluttering of countless feathers as thewind descended before her, and the hulking frames of the two drunks wasreplaced by a strong back adorned with two large, red wings. Lazily, a handdrifted up to weave through tousled blonde locks.

“Nope, nope,” clucked the hero before her in scolding,“ladies should be treated with respect and dignity- not herded into a dirtyalleyway like livestock for the slaughter.” Though his tone started offlighthearted and almost unbothered at first, by the end of the sentence it haddeveloped such a hard and savage edge that even Fuyumi winced, though it was inno way directed at her.

“Oh, shit, it’s Hawks! What the hell is he doing allthe way over here?” one of them cried fearfully.

“Who gives a fuck? Run!” The other barked.Fuyumi could not see them behind the sprawling mass of those ruby-red wings,but she imagined they were clumsily turning on their heels to flee like thecowards they were.

“Nope, nope. Class ain’t dismissed,” Hawks sighed.Based on the flex of his toned shoulder muscles, she guessed his arms snappedout to grasp them by the backs of their necks. She was so impressed with hisspeed and agility that she completely missed the very obvious reference to herprofession that implied familiarity on his part. A very loud thunking combinedwith piercing yelps indicated he had banged their heads together to daze them.“Really? You dopes make all that fuss, and that’s all it takes to knock youout? I’m disappointed,” Hawks pouted with a tiny flutter of his wings. Fuyumiwatched owlishly as he deposited them a few feet away; she grimaced at the veryobvious goose eggs growing on each of their foreheads. They would be feelingthat in the morning, for sure. “Now, to get you punks to the slammer before youwake up and have any more bright ideas,” the winged hero muttered under hisbreath as he quickly typed a text into his smartphone. He gave no notice toFuyumi. Blinking, she timidly peeled herself off the wall to shyly take a fewsteps toward him.

“Um… Mr. Hawks… sir?”

“Oh, right, are you hurt, miss?” he laughed, shovinghis phone deep into his pocket and rubbing the back of his neck with a brightsmile. “Sorry, sorry, I was alerting the authorities; I didn’t mean to ignoreyou.” For a pro hero, he sure is… flighty… The adjective was almost tooappropriate. He smiled wider when she shook her head. “Good, good. Endeavorwould sure drive a stick up my ass if you got hurt on my watch- uh, pardon thelanguage,” he corrected quickly as a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

“Oh! No, it’s not that, um. I just wasn’t aware thatyou were familiar with my father.” Fuyumi had been under the impression thathis assistance in her father’s televised fight was mere circumstance.

“Nope, nope! We’re buddies!” Hawks grinned widely.Fuyumi had to giggle; most definitely, it was a one-sided friendship, knowingher father’s grumpiness. Though Fuyumi had been through such a harrowingexperience, his easy-going nature and smile was doing wonders to drive her downfrom that adrenaline high. She hugged the satchel of papers to her chest as shesmiled shyly.

“Oh, well… I appreciate your help.”

“No problem~” he chirped with a dismissive wave.“You’re a little late in your schedule, though, yeah?” Fuyumi’s eyes widened asshe stared at him blankly. How could he know that? It was his turn to blush.“Ah, no,” he stammered quickly while holding out his hands in an appeasinggesture. “It’s not like I stalk you or anything; I just, uh, always fly overhere because there’s this place that has suuuuuper awesome bubble tea, yeah,and I always see you walking home at the same time, you know? I mean, you’rejust, uh, really noticeable. In a good way! You don’t look weird or anything!Um. Maybe I should stop talking?” His wings drooped low as he lookeduncomfortably at her. Fuyumi ought to be a little creeped out, she supposed,but he was just so cute and flustered that she just found it all endearing. Hiseyebrows sloped downward worriedly as she began to laugh lightly.

“It’s all right. I feel grateful that the number-twohero takes notice of a quaint little teacher such as myself.” The bubble teashop was right next to the school she taught at, so it wasn’t much wonder heknew she taught, either. Honestly, Fuyumi was quite flattered. A famous hero,taking notice of her? It was dreamlike. A bashful smile graced his pretty faceas he fluttered his wings hopefully. Fuyumi suddenly gulped as she beheld themarvelous appendages. She was no stranger to famous heroes, and after watchingthe televised fight, she had taken notice of Hawks and begun following hisexploits. After all, she wasn’t blind; he was handsome and, dare she say,dreamy. As such, she had harbored a wee little fantasy. “M-may… May I touchyour wings?” she whispered. His eyes widened and he compulsively looked at oneof them.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he shrugged and extended one out forher. She sucked in a sharp breath as she admired the way the scarce moonlightplayed over the surface of the feathers, tainting the red hue with a silver-redcolor. Hesitantly, as if she were about to commit some blasphemous act eventhough he had expressly given her permission, she stretched out a hand. Thevery tips of her fingers just barely shook as they journeyed across the smallspace before connecting with the blades of his wings. She could not help butopenly sigh as her fingers came into contact with the impeccably soft feathers.Her expression melted as she softly stroked the downy mass. Somehow, it wasrelaxing. Her fingertips skipped up to run across the hard bone of the frame ofhis wings, feeling the occasional tiny notch of a scar. She wonderedmomentarily how many battles he had been in, but it flew from her mind as hejumped slightly. “Sorry, it tickles a little,” he smiled nonchalantly at her asshe looked at him. Hey eyebrows crept up her forehead slightly, as the dustingof pink across his cheeks did not go unnoticed by her. She looked back down atthe wings. Though she ached to just dive her hands into the soft feathers andplay with them, that was stepping a little over the line, she reasoned.

“Erm… Thank you,” she said and retracted her handbefore she grew too bold. He rolled his shoulders as he pulled the wing backin, before lifting his visor to smile at her with glittering eyes. Sirens werebeginning to wail in the distance, growing closer by the second. Fuyumi felt alittle saddened by their implications. “I… suppose it is time for you to leave,isn’t it?”

“Now, what kind of hero would I be if I didn’t escorta young lady home?” Bird-like as he was, his voice still rumbled like a cat’spurr. It vibrated in Fuyumi’s chest, stirring her heart up into a frenzy. Shestraightened up reflexively as he took a few steps toward her, now standingless than a third of a foot in front of her; if he puffed out his chest enough,theirs would meet. “That is, if the young lady would grace me with her presencea little longer.”

“Oh, dear,” she breathed out. She couldn’t help it. Helooked impossibly sexy; the moonlight was framing him just right, catching allthe highlights in his hair and accenting all the ridges of his face and makinghis wings shine like that of a true angel’s. She found herself nodding beforeshe could even command her brain to think about his question.

“May I?” he asked chivalrously and held out his armswith a slight stoop of his body, obviously intending to scoop her up into hisarms. Again, her head bobbled in an entranced nod. As his thick arms slippedaround her, one bumping into the backs of her knees and the other securing heraround her shoulders as she stumbled into him, she automatically grabbed ontohis sturdy shoulders. Immediately, her fingers itched with the inane need totrace the lines of his muscles so obviously encased by his hero uniform. Herface immediately flared pink at her indecent thoughts. This was a pro hero!Holding her close… His breath mixing with hers in close proximity… Really, shecould kiss him without much effort… She wondered if it would be a welcomereward for her rescue? Oh, dear, Fuyumi! Hush! She begged herself.Almost as if he was reading her mind, he smirked knowingly down at her. “Youbetter hold on,” he remarked just as the police cars pulled up and the officersexited. “Thank you, gentlemen, but I gotta fly! I’ll come and give report atthe station later Oh, dear, that’snice… she thought absently, not even really aware of the way her two-tonedhair was flapping in her face.

“You’re missing the view,” Hawks laughed at her. Shewrenched herself back into the present and hastily swept her hair from her faceto look around.

What a view it was.

“Oh, dear…” Though only a few seconds had passed, theywere now sailing high above the city line. The lights of cars and buildingstwinkled in little orbs below, mirroring the expanse of the black sky above herhead. Everything seemed so small, so inconsequential, that it took Fuyumi’sbreath away. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” She looked at him and blushed when she foundhim staring directly at her. Momentarily, she wondered if she had been watchingtoo many cheesy chick flicks and was dreaming. She pinched herself, sure thatshe would awaken in her bed with no memory of how she got there, but though thesharp pinch made her nerves complain loudly, she didn’t jolt up in her bed. Thisis… real… she thought as she stared deeply into his golden-brown eyes. “Youknow, we’re acquainted so well, and yet I don’t even know your name,” hechuckled bashfully all of a sudden.

“Fuyumi,” she answered with no hesitation. “FuyumiTodoroki.” The smile he gave her was one laced with obvious affection.

“Huh. Imagine that. A beautiful name to match a beautifulface.” It was such an obvious flirt that Fuyumi became overwhelmingly shy andburied her face into his shoulder, feeling it jump as his laugh rang out in thenight air.

“Do you flirt so shamelessly with every young womanyou rescue?”

“Nope, nope, just pretty teachers.” Oh, he’s arascal, she thought with a twist of her stomach, but she couldn’t deny thatshe was very excited by it all. After all, she would be a fool of a woman notto be! Hawks seemed like he was genuine enough, too.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Do I get to know your real name?” she asked, liftingher head to peer up at him. He gazed thoughtfully at her for a moment beforegiving her a lop-sided smirk.

“Depends. Do I get to have the young lady’s phonenumber?”

Instead of an answer, she gave him another embarrassedsqueal and buried her face back into his broad shoulder. He had been soflustered earlier, but now he was spitting game like it was second nature tohim! He was laughing again, and the way her head was jostling up and down withevery loud chuckle didn’t help the nervous twisting of her belly. “Keigo,” hesaid suddenly, making her look up at him in mild shock. “Call me Keigo.”

“Keigo,” she repeated softly. “It has a nice ring toit.”

He snorted with a smile and turned his head as his wingsshifted to bank sharply, catching the light of the moonlight in such a way thatthey glowed mostly white, but two-toned with occasional dark streaks of redwith the way the shadows fell. Fuyumi smiled and reached up to play with theends of her wind-swept two-toned hair, thinking that in the moonlight, theymatched.

What were the implications of that, shewondered?

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to perusemy Tableof Contents!

[singledarkshade]

Worth Something

Summary: Lifting a purse proves to have bigger consequences than Michael realised. Now in a world he doesn't understand he wants to trust that Miss Xavier cares for him. But no one ever has before, why would she? Author’s Note: It's Rip Week. Day 1: Friends and Family – We’re starting off the week with two things that Rip doesn’t have a lot of, or perhaps he does and he just hasn’t realised it. I chose Mary Xavier, or as Rip knows her - Mother.                                ********************************************* He was almost at the end of the street before the man noticed his purse had been lifted. Michael didn’t bother glancing back as he heard the man yell, instead he began to walk making sure he didn’t draw attention to himself. Darting around people, using his small stature to good effect he moved easily through the legs of the crowds.

Michael knew if he could reach the factory then he’d be safe, no adults could get through the tunnels the street kids used to get around, so they’d never find him.  Sliding inside he smiled to himself and walked through several of the tunnels finding a small corner to sit in where he pulled out his prize. Opening it he found a few coins along with a strange smooth white stone. Picking up the stone, Michael turned it around a few times wondering what it was and why the man had it. The stone was slightly warm, and it seemed to hum slightly.

Shrugging, he decided he could probably sell it, so Michael pocketed it along with the coins before tossing the purse away.

Heading through the tunnels, Michael slipped out the other side of the network far away from anyone who might be chasing him.

Walking along the street he saw some of the other kids, so jogged over to catch up with them. Sliding into the group, Michael cried out in shock when he was abruptly grabbed from behind.

“Let me go,” he snarled, twisting in the grip of a man who studied him. Michael recognised him as one of those men who took kids every so often, and Michael knew he did not want to be taken. They’d seen Caspian once after he’d been taken and the look in his eyes chilled Michael. Pulling his knife out his belt, Michael stabbed blindly. The ground suddenly rushed to meet him, as warm liquid covered his hand. Seeing blood gushing from the man’s chest, Michael ran.

Breathing heavily, with every breath stabbing his chest, he paused for a moment coughing hard. He shoved his knife back into his belt before beginning to run again. He could hear the police coming after him and this time it wasn’t just a lifted purse he was being chased for.

Panic filled Michael as he had no idea where he could go that would be safe. He couldn’t get back to the factory, it was on the other direction through the people chasing him. The noise coming from behind him made Michael run again. Too late he realised where he was. He had stumbled into the docks and was at the side of the river. Wobbling on the edge, a hand grabbed his shoulder yanking him back dragging him to a safer spot.

“Let me go,” he struggled against the man holding him. Reaching for his knife, a bright light filled his vision and his entire body froze.

“Skinny little rat,” a woman said from somewhere near him, “Isn’t he?”

“But cleaner than you’d expect a child living on the streets to be,” the man holding him replied thoughtfully, “Probably realised it would make him a little more invisible not to be too dirty. Smart. Let’s see how smart he is.”

Michael felt cold metal touch his forehead and, as much as he wanted to struggle against it, he couldn’t move.

“Well?” the man demanded.

The woman let out a humming sound before speaking again, “IQ is extremely high. We’ll need a proper check to measure it accurately, but he is well within the range we’re looking for. Healthwise however is not good. I’m surprised he managed to move as fast as he did, considering he’s had pneumonia and his lungs are badly scarred plus several other health issues that need to be dealt with. Not to mention it looks like he would break in a slight wind.”

“Vicious little bastard too,” the man said, holding up the two knives Michael kept hidden on him at all times, “One in the left boot and one tucked in his belt.”

The woman laughed, “It looks like we have a new recruit.”

“Your lucky day, boy,” the man said to him, “You stole from the right person and it looks like I’m not throwing you back.”

The light came again but this time Michael blacked out.

                               *********************************************

 “Okay,” Zaman Druce, Time Master and Captain of the Proditores, scanned over the list of children who had been picked up by the scouting teams, although the next one on his list he’d found after the boy had stolen the money bag with the tracker, “Subject 1138, picked up in Victorian London. IQ is well above the desired level. Health poor,” he frowned as he scanned the list, “Extremely poor.”

“The Medical Centre have advised that he will be required to stay for at least three months in order to fix all problems and get him to a healthy weight,” his assistant Kale spoke up, “The Oculus has provided some interesting information on him.”

Druce pulled up the predictions and smiled to himself, “Perfect. I knew when I saw him there was something special.”

“We will need to ensure he is raised within the correct house. Someone who can handle his more ‘feral tendencies,” Kale continued, “Or he may not grow up to be what you want.”

Druce thought on this, all those who ran the houses that raised the children were good at what they did, it was why they had been chosen for the roles but considering what he’d seen of the boy so far then a specific person would be required and he knew exactly who that was.

“We’ll place him in the Refuge,” Druce said, “Xavier deals well with problem children and he definitely falls into that category.”

Kale nodded, “I’ll let her know he’ll be joining the house in a few months.”

Musing for a moment, Druce replied, “No. Introduce her to him now. I need him to trust her and Xavier meeting him while he’s in the medical centre will help with that. Have her come in tomorrow.”

Kale nodded again, “I’ll let her know we have a special case that you feel she would be the best person to work with.”

“Flattering her ego should work,” Druce murmured.

With that they moved on to the next subject.

                                 *********************************************

 Michael felt groggy as he woke up.

Remembering what one of the older boys had taught him when he first started stealing, he took a slow breath so he wouldn’t panic, finding he could take a deeper breath than he had been able to in a long time. The next thing he noticed was the smell. It was completely wrong for the world he had always known. It smelled a bit like what the maid used to clean the house where they sometimes got food.

Forcing his eyes open Michael looked around. He was in a white room, with a door in front of him and a chair against the wall. He was in a bed, with clean white sheets and a red blanket. Michael grimaced finding he’d been changed into clothes that were all white, and his own were nowhere to be found. He jumped when the door opened, and a woman walked in. She had curly blond hair and wore a strange green outfit.

“Good,” she smiled, “You’re awake. I need to check…hey.”

She let out a cry of surprise as Michael jumped off the bed, trying to ignore how cold the floor felt on his bare feet before he scrambled past the woman towards the door where he ran into another woman. Older this time, with short light brown hair and a sharp face she looked surprised at their collision.

“Now where are you going, young man?” she asked sternly but with concern in her voice.

Stepping back so she let down her guard, Michael then darted around her and into the corridor. He had never seen a place so white and clean, pausing for a moment the call from inside the room reminded him he had to get away.

“Catch him,” the first woman snapped.

Michael saw two men in the same green outfit coming towards him. Glancing back the first woman stood with two more men appearing behind her. Taking a chance, he began to run the way he had been going, hoping he could dodge through the men but misjudged. Two of the men seized his arms, while the other two his legs. Michael struggled, fighting against them, crying out as the grips on his limbs tightened.

“Enough,” the second woman’s voice rang out, “Put him down now.”

“Ma’am….”

“Did I stutter?” the woman snapped, “I said put that child down. Gently.”

Terrified Michael huddled against the wall the moment the four men released him. They moved away and suddenly the second woman was kneeling at his side.

“It’s alright,” she soothed, stroking his hair while her other hand rested on his arm, “You’re safe I promise.”

Unable to stop shaking he continued to huddle into himself.

“Michael,” she called softly, “Look at me. Come on, little one, look at me.”

Slowly Michael raised his head, and he found himself staring into kind brown eyes.

“I will not let anything happen to you,” she promised, “Now, get up off this cold floor and I will explain to you where you are.”

Knowing he couldn’t get away from here right now, Michael slowly stood. He edged as close as he could to the kind woman, who rested her hand on his shoulder, without getting too close. Once back in the room, Michael slid back onto the bed and stared in confusion as the woman fussed over him. She plumped the pillow up behind him, finding socks for his feet and ensuring he put them on then she covered him with the blanket, adding another one after a few moments.

“Are you nice and cosy?” she asked.

Michael nodded warily.

“Good,” she gave him a warm smile, “Now, I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I?”

He simply stared at her not sure what she was going to say.

“My name is Mary Xavier,” she smiled again and squeezed his shoulder gently, “And from now on, I am going to look after you.”

 Mary studied the boy in front of her, hoping he didn’t see how angry she was with the idiot staff. For people who treated many of the children brought to be Time Masters, you would think they would know how to calm them.

“Where am I?” Michael asked, his fear and confusion plain in his voice even though she could tell he was trying to sound brave.

Taking a seat on the bed at his side, Mary took the little boy’s hand, “This is a Medical Facility…” she stopped remembering where he’d come from, “It’s where people who are sick come and are given medicine to feel better.”

“I’m not sick.”

Mary smiled at the defensive pout, gently stroking his hair again, “Not exactly but you were. And it probably made it hard to breathe a lot of the time,” seeing him reluctantly nod, Mary continued, “We have very special medicines which we gave to you so that you can breathe easier.”

“When can I leave?” he demanded.

Knowing this was a delicate moment, Mary took a quick breath, “Well, you still need more medicine so will have to stay here for a while. And afterwards you will come to my home where you will learn amazing things with the other children I look after.”

She saw interest in his eyes, but his face set in a stubborn frown.

“Why would I come with you?”

“Because you are very special, Michael,” Mary told him, “You are wonderfully smart, you see things other people don’t, in a way they can’t, and I bet you like solving puzzles.”

He gave a half-shrug making Mary smile.

“You were brought here so that your talents can be used for good things,” she continued, “To protect people in a way you never thought possible.”

“I can’t go home?” he asked.

Mary stroked his hair again, “Michael, what is there for you back home?”

He opened his mouth before he shrugged.

“You can go home if you want,” Mary told him, even though she knew the Time Masters would never allow it, “But with me then you will have a warm bed every night and a full belly every day.”

“What do I have to do?” Michael demanded warily.

Mary’s heart broke wondering how such a young child saw a world where he only got good things from someone if he did something for them. Where there was no one he could trust.

“You have to study hard, follow the house rules and do basic chores,” she told him, “The same as everyone in the house.”

The unsure expression covered the boy’s face again and Mary gently squeezed his shoulder again.

“Why don’t you get some sleep and we can talk about it again later,” she said, “You’ve still got some time before you’re well enough to be released.”

He yielded to her gentle urging to lie down again. Mary tucked him into the bed and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Do you need anything?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Michael whispered, looking anywhere but her eyes.

Mary nodded with a comforting smile, “I will be here, little one. I promise.”

Relief flitted over his face before he closed his eyes and cuddled into his pillows. Mary stroked the boy’s hair and gently sung to him until she was sure he was fast asleep.

Now she had to deal with the idiots working here.

                                 *********************************************

 “Good morning, Katya,” Mary greeted the nurse who was now caring for Michael.

Katya beamed, “Good morning, Mother.”

Opening her arms, Mary hugged the young woman she had raised from five years old.

“It’s good you’re here,” Katya said as they started walking, “He tried to escape last night.”

Mary frowned, “How many times is this?”

“Six,” Katya chuckled, “He’s getting more inventive. This time he stole one of the other nurses’ key cards and hid in the food trolley. Nearly made it the entrance.”

Mary smiled slightly, “He is as smart as the tests showed.”

“I think it might be time he’s told where he is,” Katya said, “He’s stronger than he was and has spent enough time in the Medical Centre with our technology. I think he can deal with the information.”

“I’ll talk with Doctor Evans,” Mary said, “But I’ll come and see our escape artist first.”

Katya laughed, “He’s still to have breakfast so I will see you there.”

Mary nodded and headed to Michael’s room. She knocked on the door and waited a moment before walking in. It was the deal she had made with him that she would never just walk into his room.

“Good morning, Michael,” Mary said, finding him sitting on the bed staring sullenly at the wall.

“Morning,” he muttered, only because Mary had given him into trouble for not answering with words the second morning she’d visited.

Ignoring the greeting, Mary placed the bag she had with her on the bed and pulled out the fresh clothes, books and games she’d brought for him today.

Michael had been in the Medical Centre for three weeks now. Mary visited him every day and, now she had ensured Katya was taking care of him, he seemed slightly less afraid. That hadn’t stopped him from trying to break out though.

“I hear that you took a small trip last night,” Mary said as she took the seat beside the bed.

Michael shrugged, “Wanted a walk.”

She frowned slightly before stroking his hair, even though he tried not to show it, Mary knew he liked the affectionate touch.

“You know that leaving here alone is not safe for you,” Mary told him, “Don’t you?”

He frowned, chin dropping defiantly.

“Michael, when I ask a question,” Mary said sternly, “You answer me.”

“I know, Miss Xavier,” he said softly.

“Look at me,” Mary ordered, pleased that two wide green eyes turned on her blinking as he tried to hold back tears, “I know that you’ve looked after yourself for a long time, Michael but you’re not alone anymore. Now, Katya is going to bring you breakfast. It is all to be eaten and no stealing anything from her. I need to speak to the doctor.”

“Will you be back?”

Leaning over, Mary kissed the top of his head, “I’ll only be a few minutes.” As she opened the door, she found Katya with Michael’s breakfast, “I’ve had a talk with him.”

Katya smiled and started extoling the virtues of the breakfast she’d brought while she took the tray over to Michael. Mary closed the door leaving them for the moment.

 Michael glanced up at Katya when she placed the tray on the table in front of him.

“Is she angry at me?” he asked quietly.

Katya sat on the bed beside him, “A little but it’s only because she worries. Leaving the Medical Centre alone is not safe, Michael.”

Picking up the bowl of oatmeal, Michael began to eat. He’d been told off for eating too fast the first morning so while Katya watched over him ate slowly.

“I don’t like it here,” Michael said suddenly.

Katya chuckled, “I know but you still need medicine. And I hope I’m not bad company.”

A small smile touched his lips at Katya’s teasing.

Catching his smile, she gently nudged his shoulder, “Okay, you finish breakfast then I will do your morning checks. Then we can look at what you’ve been brought today.”

Michael tried not to let her see how excited that made him, but he loved that he had so many books to explore. He’d taught himself how to read and was lucky that the owner of the old bookstore would let him look at books sometimes. He also helped Michael if he wasn’t sure what a word meant.

Katya had taken on that role and she would sit with him while he read or played some of the games, helping him with words and things he didn’t know or understand.

A knock came on the door and after a moment Miss Xavier walked in again. Michael grimaced for a moment before realising she didn’t look angry. Instead she was smiling.

“You need to eat up,” she told him, “And then get dressed. We’re going on a small trip.”

Fear filled him, “Where are we going?”

“The doctor has agreed that you are allowed to come with me to the Refuge for a few hours today,” Miss Xavier told him, “I can show you were you will be staying once you leave here.”

Michael wanted to like her, wanted to trust that she really cared about him, but he’d spent far too long fending for himself. Everyone he’d ever trusted before now had turned on him, leaving him in the dirt.

“Finish eating,” Katya said, “We’ll do your checks quickly then you can go see the Refuge. You know it’s where I grew up.”

Surprised he blurted out, “You did?”

Miss Xavier nodded, “Katya was much younger than you when she came to me. And I am so proud that she grew up to care for people. It’s why I asked that she look after you, Michael.”

“Eat up and you can get out of this room faster,” Katya encouraged.

With a slight grimace Michael began to eat again, deciding he could use this trip to find a way to get away from this place.

Even if he did quite like Miss Xavier.

 Mary fixed the collar of Michael’s jacket before satisfied that he was presentable.

“Alright, Michael,” she said gently, “I want you to stay close to me. Once we leave the building there will be a lot of people around and I don’t want you getting lost.”

She saw a small glint appear in his eyes at that, grateful that she had placed a tracker in his shoes. It wasn’t something she would usually approve of but the little boy walking at her side had already shown a tendency to try to run away. Considering where he was from, and that the world he was about to step into was completely outside his sphere of knowledge, Mary wanted to ensure he was safe.

They reached the entrance hall to the Medical Centre and Mary felt Michael edge closer to her at all the strange people milling around. She held out her hand to him.

“Just until we get outside?” Mary suggested.

Hesitantly he slid his small hand into hers and Mary squeezed comfortingly. As they walked out of the building, she had to admit she wasn’t ready for his reaction.

Michael stalled as they entered the space port, there were several small ships moving around the docked vessels, and he stared at them wide-eyed for several seconds. Screaming suddenly, he pulled away throwing himself against building and curling into a ball.

“Michael,” Mary crouched beside him, “It’s okay.”

“Monsters,” Michael cried, “Flying monsters.”

Mary smiled comfortingly, “They’re not monsters. You’ve seen ships on the river, haven’t you?”

He nodded.

“That’s all they are,” she soothed, “Just ships but instead of the river they sail through the sky.”

Michael chewed his lip for a moment before asking, “How?”

“That is a longer conversation than we should have here,” Mary laughed softly, “But it’s how we’re getting to the Refuge so you can see for yourself.”

Taking his hand, Mary managed to coax the little boy off the floor and wrapped her arm around his shoulders leading him to the small ship.

 Michael couldn’t stop shaking as he looked around the strange place he was in. London was big but he knew it. This world with ships that could fly was so incredible and he held onto Miss Xavier tightly.

“Just in here,” Miss Xavier said gently as he hesitated when they reached the ship that would take them to what she called the Refuge.

Slowly he stepped inside, staring around but didn’t get a chance to look at much as Miss Xavier drew him to a chair. He sat and watched her fasten the strange belts around him before she took a seat at his side. The jerk of the entire room and the sudden strange noises made him jump.

“You can hold my hand again if you want,” she said offering it to him.

Michael grabbed her hand, not caring at that moment that he was trying not to like her too much. The trip didn’t take long, and Michael allowed Miss Xavier to unbuckle him making sure he paid attention to what she did.

“Come on,” she held out her hand, “We don’t have all day.”

Taking it Michael watched the doors opened and stared in amazement.

“Are we in a park?” he asked as Miss Xavier moved him forward.

She laughed, “No. This is part of the Refuge. Come on, the house is just along the path.”

Michael couldn’t stop his head spinning from side to side as he looked around a world he had never imagined. He would go to the park every now and then, but it never looked as green as this. It had never smelled as nice as this did either.

There were children everywhere, many of them waved and called hello to Miss Xavier all of them calling her ‘Mother.’

But no one came near them.

 Mary was relieved her older children were keeping the younger ones in check and leaving her alone with Michael. She loved all her children but any time a new resident joined them Mary tried to have at least half a day alone with them to get the child acquainted with the house and with her. It also let them settle in a little.

Michael was a different case and Mary wanted to let him get to know what was going to be his new home a little more slowly. Let him ease into it.

The boy’s eyes were wide as he stared at everything, getting wider as they entered the house. Leading him into the kitchen Mary sat him down with some milk and a cookie.

“What do you think of my house?” she asked sitting across from him with a cup of tea.

“S’nice,” Michael gave a half shrug.

Forcing herself not to smile too much, Mary took a sip of tea, “Well, normally when someone joins the house. I would let them spend some time in the gardens and exploring the grounds maybe even going for a swim. But the doctor has told me that you’re not ready to be running around yet.”

Michael stared at her, waiting for whatever she was going to say.

“I thought we could bake some cakes for everyone,” Mary smiled at him, “You can take some back with you to the Medical Centre.”

He gave one of his small shrugs that Mary had become used to seeing in the past few weeks. The ones that he used to try and keep that invisible wall between them. Mary of course was intent on breaking through that and one day he would hug her first.

Finishing her tea, Mary started to pull out everything she needed to make cakes and set them out on the counter. Finally, she found the stepping stool she had to allow Michael to reach the counter.

“Alright,” she motioned him to join her and handed him the apron, “Put that on and we’ll start.”

Michael looked at her confused making her laugh.

“It’s so your clothes don’t get too dirty,” Mary told him, as she fixed the apron on him before patting his cheek, “So, how about we make chocolate cake first?”

 Michael remembered watching the bakers making cakes some mornings, and how amazing the street would smell outside as they did. He tried not to be but was fascinated as he watched Miss Xavier measure out everything.

“Alright,” she handed him the bowl and a wooden spoon, “Time to start mixing.”

“What?”

She chuckled, “Did you think you weren’t going to do any work here? Mix that while I start on the cookies.”

Taking the spoon, Michael started trying to mix the ingredients around grunting that it wasn’t moving easily.

“Just keep going,” Miss Xavier told him, “You will find that things that are hard to do are almost always worth it.”

Grimacing at her, Michael tried to mix it a little more sighing as it still wasn’t working.

“You know,” Miss Xavier said softly, “If it’s too hard for you…”

“No,” Michael said quickly not wanting her to think he was weak, “I can do it.”

Turning back to the bowl, he started mixing the ingredients again with determination. Surprised when suddenly it started to get easier to mix and became smooth.

“Well done,” Miss Xavier smiled taking the bowl back, “You’re a natural at this.”

Pride filled him and he gave her a small smile back. Miss Xavier poured the mixture into a big tin before she put it in the oven.

“Now for the fun bit,” she told him, “You’re going to take a bit of the dough I’ve just made, roll it into a ball in your hand and then flatten it on the tray. Okay?”

Michael slowly followed her as she took a bit of the dough, rolling it into a ball. Placing it on the tray as instructed he paused and looked at her.

“Like this,” she said and squashed the ball she’d made until it was a circle.

Michael smiled as he pushed the ball down, it took several tries but soon he’d managed to get it flat enough.

“Well done,” Miss Xavier chuckled, “Now, let’s keep going and get these in the oven too.”

It took them some time to get them all done but finally they had two trays and slid them into the oven with the cake.

 Mary turned back to Michael after they made a few more cakes seeing him trying to stifle a yawn, she’d been told he would tire easily.

“Come on,” she told the boy, “I have something else to show you.”

Michael followed her out the kitchen, and she gently rested her arm around his shoulders guiding him up the stairs. She led him to the room that would be his when he joined them and opened the door.

Michael looked inside before looking up at her suspiciously, “Who sleeps here?”

“Well,” she said softly, “This will be your room when you move here.”

“Just me?”

Mary nodded, “Of course, everyone has their own room in the house. Which I expect to be kept clean at all times.”

A confused frown touched his face as he looked around suspiciously.

“I thought you’d like this room. It has a good view,” Mary told him before she added, “And it used to be Katya’s room.”

She smiled at the interested look that information sparked, which meant he didn’t resist as she moved him inside and to the window.

“Here, you can see lake,” Mary pointed it out, “And a lot of the gardens.”

Michael stood and looked out the window before looking around the room. The entire room had been cleaned and repainted freshly ready for a new occupant as its former one was now at the Academy. All it had was a bed, which Mary had ensured was made, a desk with a chair, a bookshelf and a wardrobe.

“Why don’t you lie down for a while?” Mary suggested, touching his shoulder again.

“M’fine,” Michael muttered fighting against a yawn.

Mary smiled and gently stroked his hair back from his face, “I know you’re fine, but the doctor will give me a row if they think I didn’t let you rest.”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” Michael murmured, “I could lie down for a little while.”

“Take your shoes off,” Mary told him, “And get under the covers so you don’t get cold.”

With only the slightest of grumbles, Michael climbed into the bed and allowed her to cover him.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen once you’ve had your rest,” Mary said, gently stroking the boy’s hair again watching his eyes close. Once she was sure Michael was fast asleep, Mary gently kissed his forehead, “Sleep well, little one. You’re safe here.”

His only response was to snuggle deeper into his pillow as Mary left him to sleep.

 Michael looked around the street, he could hear footsteps but didn’t know where they were coming from. Starting to walk he heard them follow him. Michael began to run, trying to get away from the person following him, he knew they wanted to hurt him.

No matter where he ran, the person followed. Michael began to panic as the streets he knew well became a maze, with things in the wrong place.

Suddenly he saw the factory, where he could get into places no adult could and would be safe. Just as he reached the entrance, a hand grabbed his shoulder yanking him back.

“Got you now,” a voice growled.

Michael screamed, struggling to get away he was dragged further and further away into the darkness as his captor laughed.

“Michael,” a soft voice called, and he was wrapped in a tight embrace and rocked. Confused he tried to get away until the gentle voice managed to penetrate the nightmare, “You’re safe, little one.”

“Miss…Miss…” he gulped in several breaths.

“It’s alright, little one,” she continued to rock him, “I’m here and you’re safe. You’re safe here I promise.”

Caught up in how wonderful it felt to be hugged, and how safe he felt, Michael forgot to pull away and sank into the warmth of her embrace.

“That’s my boy,” Miss Xavier murmured, stroking his hair as she rocked him, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

 Mary had been worried when she heard the scream from Michael’s room and rushed in to find him thrashing about, fighting with something in his sleep. Thankfully, when he realised where he was Michael allowed her to comfort him.

While she hugged the little boy, Mary wondered how long it had been since this child had been held in a comforting embrace. After several minutes, Michael suddenly remembered he wasn’t supposed to be getting close to her.

“Why don’t you wash your face,” Mary suggested when he pulled away, “And meet me downstairs. Our cakes and cookies are ready for us to decorate them.”

Leaving him in the room, Mary smiled because even for a few moments she’d managed to get him to let down his defences. However, she didn’t like that he was having nightmares and worried they weren’t being dealt with at the centre, she would check that when she took him back.

Once she reached the kitchen Mary pulled out the supplies for decorating and set them up on the table. A few minutes later Michael appeared at the door looking pale and uncertain.

“Come on,” Mary motioned him to the table, “We don’t have long before you have to get back, so we need to ice the cake and cookies we made.”

The little boy joined her, and Mary put him to work with the icing pens. Stepping back, Mary watched him as he concentrated on decorating the cookie in front of him. She still had a lot of work to do before he would learn to trust her.

But today had been a good start.

                                 *********************************************

 Michael sat on the bed in the room in the Medical Centre thinking about his trip to Miss Xavier’s house, the one they told him he was going to stay in when he left here. It had been so completely different than anywhere he’d ever been and, despite himself, he had liked it.

He didn’t want to, but he was beginning to like Miss Xavier. She was kind and seemed genuinely to care about him, but he didn’t understand why she would. No one else ever did.

He had no memories of his mother and a very vague one of a man he assumed was his father walking away. A knock on the door made him turn and Michael forced himself not to smile when Miss Xavier stood there.

“Good afternoon, Michael,” she said as she walked over to his side, her hand coming up to gently brush his hair, “How are you today?”

“Okay,” he replied softly, “How are you?”

She gave him a smile, “I’m very well. Now, I brought you a new book to read but you’re also going to have a visitor.”

Michael wanted to ask but didn’t want her to know he was interested, thankfully Miss Xavier wasn’t expecting anything from him.

“Now, I will be here with you the entire time,” she continued, “So if you want him to leave you tell me. Alright?”

Worry filled him, “Why would I want him to leave?”

Miss Xavier took his hand, “He is coming to explain why you were brought here and I know that it will be a great deal of information that might be a little overwhelming.”

Looking down at their hands for a moment, Michael nodded.

“Okay then,” she placed a kiss on the top of his head before she let go of his hand and moved to the door. Michael watched as she spoke to someone just outside. All he could make out was the person was tall and felt relieved that Miss Xavier was staying.

“Michael,” she stepped back into the room, followed by a man who towered over her and looked slightly familiar, “This is Zaman Druce.”

Staring at the tall man, Michael finally said, “I know you.”

Druce nodded, “I was the one who caught you before you fell off the docks.”

“Oh,” Michael said, frowning slightly as a memory tried to catch his attention but it disappeared suddenly, “Thanks.” He paused for a moment before asking, “Why are you here?”

Druce nodded slightly before he said, “I’m going to talk to you about why I brought you here and didn’t leave you back in London.”

Michael turned to Miss Xavier who sat on the bed at his side. Nervously he slid his hand under hers.

“It’s alright, Michael,” she said softly, taking hold of his hand, “I’m right here.”

Assured she had a hold of him, he turned back to Druce, “Why did you?”

“You are very special, Michael,” Druce stated, “Despite where you were living, your intelligence is exceedingly high. Now you’re here then you will be trained to use that in ways you never thought possible.”

“What he means,” Miss Xavier took over, “Is that he brought you here so that you can use your gifts to help people.”

“Thank you, Miss Xavier,” Druce frowned before he continued, “We are called Time Masters and we are charged with a solemn duty of policing the timeline to ensure it remains safe from all threats.”

Miss Xavier patted Michael’s hand, “We’ll be right back,” she said before motioning Druce outside. The door didn’t close properly, and Michael moved closer to listen in.

“He is a child,” Miss Xavier snapped, “A very scared and confused child who has had his entire world changed recently. Try to remember that while you talk to him.”

“I am aware of his age,” Druce replied, “But he is also in the top five percent…”

“I know,” Miss Xavier cut him off, “I know exactly how intelligent that boy is. He is brilliant, and he will do incredible things once he has been trained. But for now, he is ten years old and from Victorian London. Gauge your information to what he understands here and now.” She paused for a moment before adding, “I assume you are intending to sponsor him.”

“That is why I came.”

“Then treat him as a mentor,” Miss Xavier told him sharply, “He is not a cadet being given a lecture. Talk to him, not at him.”

 Mary took a quick breath before she turned back to the room seeing Michael scramble back to sit against the pillows. She gave him a comforting smile as she took her seat at his side again. Offering her hand to him, happy when he took it.

“Michael,” Druce said as he entered the room again, “I brought you here so that you can learn amazing things, and to let you help people in a way you never would have been able to before.”

Mary watched the flicker of interest in the boy’s eyes.

“Once you’re deemed to be healthy,” Druce continued, “Then Miss Xavier will take you to the Refuge, I believe you’ve already seen it.”

Michael nodded slightly.

“After you’re settled,” Druce continued, “Then I will show you the Time Master Academy and precisely why you were chosen to become one of us.”

Mary watched Michael closely as he processed this, relieved when he simply nodded again.

“Time Master Druce has to return to work now,” Mary said, dismissing him, “But he will visit you again.”

Druce frowned at her before he smiled slightly at the little boy, “Behave for Miss Xavier and I will see you soon, Michael.”

With that said he left the room. Mary rolled her eyes slightly at him. Turning back to the boy sitting on the bed she gave him a warm smile.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly at Michael’s puzzled face.

“Is it true?”

“What?”

He bit his lip for a moment, “That I can help people? That I will be something good.” He paused for a moment before reciting, “That I’m not just a piece of street trash and no one will ever care if I live or die.”

“Oh, Michael,” Mary cupped his cheek making him look at her, “You are not trash and you are going to make a huge difference in this world. You will help people more than anyone will ever know. You will do magnificent things.”

Surprised that he was letting her see him this vulnerable, Mary wrapped Michael in her arms and held him.

                                 *********************************************

 “Today is the day,” Katya said as she walked in the room where Michael was trying to work out how to pack all the things he had into the small bag, “You’re leaving me.”

Michael shrugged slightly, “You can come visit.”

“You know that sounds like a good idea, especially since I hear you’re getting my old room,” Katya chuckled.

Before he could answer the knock came on the door letting them know that Miss Xavier had arrived.

“Good morning, Michael,” she gave him a warm smile, “Katya.”

“Hello, Mother,” Katya hugged her, before stepping back, “I will leave you to finish packing and see you before you leave, Michael.”

As Katya left, Miss Xavier stepped over to the bed and shook her head, “This is not very well done, is it? How about we repack and then we can go.”

Michael stood and watched as she unpacked everything before repacking the case perfectly, he gave a slight frown and Miss Xavier patted his cheek.

“I’ll teach you another time how to pack properly,” she told him, picking up the jacket from the bed and handing it to him.

Sliding it on, he took the small bag walking out the room for the last time.

Reaching the reception, he saw Katya standing waiting for them. She crouched and pulled him into her arms. Michael froze for a second before he relaxed into the hug. Katya had been so good to him for the past few months, looked after him, read with him and made him laugh.

“Okay,” Katya said as she pulled back, “I need you to promise me that you will listen to Mother…Miss Xavier. She is going to make rules that you might not like but they are for your safety.”

He nodded before asking quietly, “Will you visit?”

Katya smiled, “Of course I will. Give me another hug.”

 Mary watched Michael hug Katya, happy to see that she had made such a positive impression on the little boy.

“It’s time to go to the transport, Michael,” Mary spoke up.

Katya gave Michael another quick squeeze. Letting him go she smiled, “I’ll see you both soon.”

She watched the little boy take a deep breath when they reached the exit, obviously still nervous about the world outside the centre.

“You can take it,” Mary offered her hand, “If you want. I won’t tell anyone.”

Michael didn’t look at her but took her hand, allowing her to lead him to the transport. She was relieved that she wouldn’t have to come back here to see him. Although it was slightly easier now to get him onboard since they’d made the trip a few times, Michael was still nervous, and Mary could feel him squeezing her hand tightly.

They reached the Refuge and Mary led her new charge to the house. Now he’d been here a few times he knew where everything was and instantly started upstairs to his room.

“Alright,” Mary said as they stepped into the room and she placed a bag on the bed, “Now that you’re here permanently, it’s time we go over the rules.”

She instantly saw a spark of rebellion in his eyes, but Michael said nothing.

“Number one, you will keep your room tidy,” Mary told him, “Number two, you will do any, and all, chores you are assigned when you are meant to do them. There is a chart in the kitchen which you have been added to. Number three, all the other children here are now your siblings and I expect you to treat them with respect. Any disagreements are worked out with words, and nothing else.”

Michael was silent for a moment before he asked, “Is that all?”

“No,” Mary replied, “I expect you to follow all these rules, Michael but I promise you that no matter what you will never be sent to sleep without your dinner. And you will never be sent away.”

He dropped his eyes.

“Michael,” Mary said sternly, “Please look at me.”

Slowly he raised his head until his eyes met hers.

“This is your home now,” she told him, stroking his hair, “You are always welcome here and, if you apply yourself, as well as keep out of trouble, then you will be able to go to the Time Master Academy. There you will be able to use that brilliant mind of yours to be the amazing person I know you’ll become.” Silence sat between them for a few minutes before Mary kissed the top of his head, “Unpack your things and set up the room the way you want to. Dinner will be in one hour and I expect you to be in the dining room on time to eat with us all.”

Just as she was about to leave Michael asked, “What if I’m not?”

“I told you,” she said, “You will never go hungry, Michael but if you don’t join us for dinner then you don’t get the full dinner. Instead there will be a sandwich for you to eat.”

Michael nodded, “I’ll be there for dinner.”

Mary gave a small smile and kissed the top is his head, “Welcome home, Michael.”

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Here’s an idea for Punk!AU! How about Sam is on her first proper date with Nic, and Daddy Jaskier with the help of Uncle Geralt and Uncle Valdo follow them to spy on them (as Jaskier is feral that Sam and Nic might do more than just kissing), and Jaskier sees them kissing passionately, and overthinks that they’re going to get it on, in which Sam gets angry at her for treating her like a child, and Jaskier feels guilty thinking his daughter hates him and they hug and say sorry in the end.

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Punk!Jaskier x Fatherhood, Punk!Uncle SquadWord Count: 2,176Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract@your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan  a/n: Bless these sweet babies and bless the Uncle Squad + Dad!Jaskier’s hearts and most of all bless you for the prompt, nonners

Jaskier had actually allowed himself to believe that maybe Sam and Nic wouldn’t ever date. Valdo shot that down every time he voiced it, citing his own longtime feelings for Aevryn that he didn’t act on until much later. Geralt never really told Jaskier he was wrong but he grew suspiciously quiet and distracted by something whenever Jaskier asked him to back him up. The pair had been crushing on each other a bit since they’d met in middle school and now they were in high school and still nothing.

Until today.

Sam had announced casually that Nic was taking her on a date to the aquarium that Friday evening and when Jaskier protested that he hadn’t asked his permission she’d wrinkled her nose and reminded him that it wasn’t the 19th century. Jaskier had looked to you for support but again was left on his own as you gave him a look.

“Nic is a good kid,” you told him later, “They’ve known each other forever. Yennefer is friends with his mom. There couldn’t be a better first boyfriend for her.”

But Jaskier wasn’t convinced and finally he got the support he was looking for when he told the guys about the date.

“He’s making his move,” Valdo said, leaning against the pool table he’d been practicing on like some sort of mafioso. Geralt’s brows furrowed and he clutched his tumbler of scotch a bit tighter.

“I like Nic, don’t get me wrong. I trust Sam and I trust him as two separate individuals but put them together and it just feels….” Jaskier trailed off, trying to find a word to describe his roiling emotions.

“Off,” Valdo finished for him, “As well it should be. We’ve all been young kids before. Some of us are still old in fact.”

He preened as Geralt and Jaskier rolled their eyes.

“She’s your daughter too so we have to be careful of that,” Valdo remarked. Jaskier’s eyes shot daggers as he pulled himself up to his full height.

“What the hell does that mean?” he demanded.

“Oh calm down we know exactly what that means. The kid is a charmer and she’s got an appetite for romance. It isn’t bad, god knows I’m not judging or shaming, but she’s still only 16 and doesn’t understand the emotional toll of being intimate,” Valdo explained. Jaskier paled. He hadn’t even considered… intimacy. He and Y/N had talked with her about sex a long time ago, emphasizing matters of consent and dispelling the virginity as purity myth. You tried to raise her with a healthy knowledge of sex but that didn’t make the idea of you engaging in it any better. When Jaskier looked at you he could still feel the weight of you in his arms, the clutch of your tiny fist around his finger.

“What do I do?” Jaskier exclaimed, feeling utterly at a loss.

“You said it’s this Friday? As in tomorrow?” Valdo asked. Jaskier nodded in agreement.

“Valdo…” Geralt said, his voice warning.

“Hey! Listen! I mean no ill will to the kids but there was a time not long ago when chaperones were a thing. I’m just wondering if perhaps it may behoove us to bring that tradition back,” Valdo said.

“I don’t know…” Jaskier said, though Geralt could see the wheels turning in his mind.

“Alright well how about this… It’s been awhile since I went to the aquarium, a very public space which people have every right to go to. And it’s been awhile since the three of us went out for a guy’s trip,” Valdo suggested. Geralt swirled the scotch in his glass and thought for a moment. He could feel Jaskier waiting for his response, gauging how he felt and trying to be patient.

“I do like the otters,” Geralt said simply.

—–

“Oh my god they’re so cute!” Sam exclaimed, watching a sleek river otter work at opening a clam. Nic watched her, his long, brown curls brushed out of his face so he could watch her face light up with delight. He’d wanted to do this for some time but he was always scared, worrying that asking out his best friend would lead to losing her. His mom had advised him to go for it, ultimately. And he was so glad. They’d had some seafood for lunch and he’d impressed her with his octopus facts. In truth he could have told her anything about any creature and she would’ve been impressed, happy to hear him speak and that his hand kept brushing against hers, as they were right now. She reached out and took his hand in hers and pointed with the other one to a fluff otter baby but Nic’s eyes were on their entwined hands, heart pounding with excitement.

“Ah bless,” Valdo sighed, watching the young couple from around a hall corner.

“She looks so happy,” Jaskier whispered, brushing a tear away.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, but there was a mistiness in his eyes too. Ciri hadn’t begun dating yet (as far as he knew), too focused on school and her activism, but he knew the day would come before he was ready. This was a bit of a test run for him, except Sam felt just as much like a daughter as Ciri.

“Shit they’re on the move,” Valdo hissed and the three men nearly fell over themselves running out of the way. They successfully followed at a distance, each wearing an attempted disguise to not bring attention to themselves from fans or Sam, and they followed them into a circular room where fish swam around the sides and above them. Though it was a popular attraction there weren’t as many people and Sam and Nic seated themselves in the middle, staring up as beautiful varieties of fish swam around.

“You know, the Pacific Northwest has over 40 subspecies of Sculpin alone?” Nic said, his deep brown eyes finding Sam’s pale blue ones as he recited the fact.

“How do you know so much about fish? You’re a baker, not a fisherman,” Sam asked with a laugh.

“Hey, I can be both! Don’t put me in a box, Pankratz,” Nic teased, a glint in his eyes. She quirked her an eyebrow at him and pretended to tap her foot, waiting for the answer. He finally relented, dropping his gaze sheepishly.

“I, uh, may have done some googling ahead of time to try and impress you,” he admitted.

“Nic Merigold, that may be the cutest thing I have ever heard,” Sam said. Nic’s eyes met hers again and she leaned in a bit closer. He swallowed hard, eyes falling to her lips, and he moved in as well until their lips gently touched.

“That’s alright, that’s fairly painless,” Valdo said, though he whispered through gritted teeth. Geralt clutched Jaskier’s arm, both to comfort him and because he needed to wrap his fist around something, the primal protective urge he wasn’t proud of bubbling up in his chest.

Sam slid a hand into Nic’s curls and moved to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding across braces a little clumsily. They pulled apart suddenly as someone fell over by the entrance.

“Uncle Valdo?” Sam exclaimed, rising and walking over to the man who carefully righted himself. He tried to gesture subtly for someone behind him to move away but she ran up too swiftly and caught Jaskier and Geralt who were frozen mid-stride, their faces turning guilty.

“What… the… fuck?” Sam muttered, staring incredulously as Nic walked up beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He was a shy boy but when someone he cared for was upset that became his focus and Sam was definitely upset.

“Sam!” Jaskier exclaimed, “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Don’t,” she snapped, tone and voice becoming an echo of her mother’s, “Were you spying on us?”

“Spying is a harsh word,” Valdo began but he stopped as Sam shot him a dirty side-glare that reminded him oddly of his own wife. It seemed Sam had taken a bit of all of the Vicious Mockery ladies. The way she held herself and the anger that emanated from her was all Yennefer, though she remained in command of her actions, much like her Aunt.

“Nic thank you for a wonderful day but I think I need to go,” Sam said. Nic reluctantly pulled his arm away and she gave him an apologetic look that cut through all three men’s hearts, as did the mournful look in Nic’s face as well.

“Until next time?” Nic asked. Sam turned to him and planted a brisk kiss on his lips, squeezing his hand and summoning a smile as she nodded. He smiled back and lamely waved at the three men before moving off towards the exit. Sam turned back to face the three of them and to their mutual horror there were tears in her eyes.

“Mitka, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m not a little kid anymore. How can any of you tell me that I’m independent and can take what I want from the world and then turn around and spy on me when I go on a date. With Nic! Nic who you all know and love! Nic who’s been by my side since I was a kid! Why would you do this to me?”

She didn’t wait for their answer, spinning to run away towards a different exit than the one Nic had gone through. Jaskier moved to go after her but Geralt stilled him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Let her go,” Geralt said. The words struck terror into Jaskier as he considered the weight of all they could mean, but he relented.

Jaskier talked with Y/N about the day, confessing his role in what had happened and after a long conversation with a lot of similar expressions as the one he’d gotten from his daughter earlier that day, the two of you waited for Sam to return. You heard the door open and close downstairs five minutes before Sam’s curfew and Jaskier sat up.

“Do you want me to go with you?” you offered. Jaskier shook his head.

“I need to make this right on my own,” he said. You nodded, giving his hand a comforting squeeze, and texted Yennefer and Aevryn to thank them for dropping her back home, knowing that they’re who she would have gone to while upset.

Jaskier found Sam sitting in the kitchen, drumming her fingers against the granite countertop of the island. She glanced up when he walked in but looked away again.

“Uncle Valdo has offered me a car if I stop being mad at him. What’s your best offer?” she asked. Jaskier swore internally and made a note to talk with Valdo – yet again – about extravagant presents, much less bribes.

“What’s the going rate on a sincere apology?” Jaskier asked. She raised a hand and gave a “so-so” gesture which was all of the encouragement he needed.

“I shouldn’t have betrayed your trust,” he began, leaning against the counter to face her though her eyes stayed on the counter, “It wasn’t right. You’re smart and responsible and vastly wiser than I ever was at your age. And I do trust Nic, he’s a good kid. It’s… hard to watch your kids grow up. And that’s not on you, that’s something I need to deal with myself, but I want you to know that I see you as the young woman you are and I’m proud of you. And I won’t butt in again. Unless you want me to.”

“I won’t,” she said, eyes rising to meet his.

“I know,” he said a little sadly. She caught the sadness and sighed.

“Daddy I know you mean well and I know it’s hard. But it’s not like that much has changed. I still need you, just in different ways. Like, I may not need you to tie my shoes but I need you to trust me. And I may not need you to fight my battles for me but I do need you to be there for me when things go wrong,” she said. Jaskier smiled softly and nodded.

“I can do that,” he said.

“Good. Also, you’re totally paying for our makeup date,” she insisted.

“That seems fair,” Jaskier agreed.

“And you’ll let Uncle Valdo buy me the car,” she said, a sly look in her eyes.

“Nice try, Mitka,” Jaskier said, crossing over to her and pulling her into a hug.

“Eh, can’t blame a girl for trying,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around his waist and returning the hug. “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too,” he replied, murmuring into her hair and trying to blink back the tears. When she pulled back there were some in her eyes as well.

“I gotta text Uncle Geralt. He’s been sending me memes all day so he must be real upset,” Sam said, reaching for her phone again. Jaskier shook his head and went back to the room where you were waiting for an update.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

@thecorteztwins 

I wound up writing a little thing based on those panels you showed me of villains “rehabilitating” (but actually being mind-controlled) at Clear Mountain Center in X-Men 92.  This was meant to be a funny story about Fabian in rehab learning how to talk to women, but it got a little disturbing because of the mind-control aspect, and also Avalanche tells a grim little story about baby murder, so warnings for that.  But now I’m really tempted to write something about Haven taking the place over and actually Doing It Right.

“So,” Fabian began, speaking in the halting tones of someone attempting to wrap his mind around a difficult concept. “You’re saying you’re not attracted to me?”

               “Not in the slightest,” said Tabitha Smith, the mutant known as Boomer (and also Time Bomb, Boom-boom, Meltdown, and whatever other code-name caught her fancy).  Her tone was firm, but she smiled at him, as if to soften the blow.  “I mean, you’re obviously good-looking, just not my type.”

               “Oh, of course, you prefer women.  I understand.  I am open-minded about such things –“

               “Nooooo…..” Boomer cut in, with some slight irritation creeping into her voice.  “I’m mostly into guys.  Just different types of guys.”  Fabian thought hard.  He was tempted to spread his legs out wider, to give her a better look at what she was rejecting, but he’d gotten enough tiny power-bombs to the crotch to learn that that was a bad idea.  (The low-powered bombs did no real damage, but they certainly stung.)

               “I get it, I get it.  You are holding yourself back.  You are maintaining a professional relationship because you are my counselor.”

               “No!”  Boomer held her head in her hands for a moment, sighing.  “Look, not every woman will find you attractive, okay?  Everyone has different preferences.  Like, people think Leonard Decaprio is super-hot, and he just doesn’t do anything for me, I’m more of a Brad Pitt girl.  It’s not something you need to feel bad about, it doesn’t mean you’re like, ugly, or anything like that.”

               Fabian’s mind whirled.  This girl was young, beautiful, a powerful mutant, and had showed him such kindness as his mentor.  She had a surprising amount of wisdom underneath her shallow and flippant demeanor.  And yet, her judgement was so unsound. Perhaps she had some kind of psychological condition, like a strange form of face-blindness?  But then, Fabian had been learning to accept many ideas that had previously seemed impossible.  The idea of living with the humans in peace.  The idea of answering hatred with understanding, not violence. The idea that he should treat others with kindness and respect, instead using them as stepping stones in his quest for status and power.

               “Very well,” Fabian began again.  It was difficult to force the words out.  “I…accept that you do not find me attractive.  I….accept that some people…..may….not find me attractive.   After all, there are many different preferences in this world.”

               “Yeah, dude, exactly.  It’s like…some people like Cool Ranch Doritos?  And some people prefer Nacho Cheese.  There’s no right or wrong, except for the people who like Funyuns, because that shit is nasty.”  Fabian wanted to roll at his eyes at her rather low class tastes, but instead he found himself laughing good-naturedly.

               “Ha, ha, yes, that is a funny joke,” he said, beaming.  It was strange.  His mind felt so….slow.  Like there was this weight pressing down in it.  But at the same time, it was oddly pleasant.  A bit like Anne Marie’s more enthusiastic hugs, which always threatened to break the recipient’s back.

               “In Spain we have jamon flavored potato chips.  Perhaps you would find them interesting to try.  I will bring some back the next time I visit home.” He did not add that he had never eaten those chips, they were junk food for peasants, but if this girl found them enjoyable, he would indulge her.  It was a nice thing to do, and he found that he wanted to be nice lately. He didn’t entirely understand why.

               “Oh dude, that would be amazing!”  Boomer exclaimed.  “I love trying junk food from other countries.  There’s so much cool stuff out there.  Did you know that they have, like, a whole ton of Kit-Kat flavors in Japan?”

                I don’t care, Fabian wanted to say.  I spent my time in Japan eating Kobe beef and blue-fin tuna, not wasting my money on cheap candy.

               “No, I didn’t know that,” he said aloud instead.  He hadn’t meant to say that.  He hadn’t intended to sound so interested, but his mouth and brain did not seem properly connected.  The pleasant feeling hung over him, almost suffocating.

               “OMG, there are like, so many!  There’s strawberry, and sweet potato, and soy sauce, and wasabi – which is like, better than you’d expect – and sake, and…”

               Fabian wanted to tell her to stop prattling, but he couldn’t quite find the words.  He looked around the outdoor area while she rambled on.  There was Blob pruning rhododendron bushes with Storm, the blossoms tiny in his huge, clumsy hands.    

               “….and blueberry cheesecake, and apple pie, and brown sugar syrup, and cantaloupe which sounds totally disgusting but apparently it’s pretty good, and…”

               The Kleinstock brothers and Frenzy were tossing a Frisbee around with Feral and Cannonball, while Vertigo and Arclight were playing scrabble with Polaris and Multiple Man.  Ruckus was strumming a guitar, pausing occasionally to sweep his hair back dramatically, and clearly looking around for an audience.  Ugh, he was singing “One Tin Soldier.”  Fabian hated that song.  Fabian hated……a lot of things that were happening at that moment.

               “….and maple, and pumpkin, and chestnut, and green tea, and Tokyo Banana, because apparently that’s a thing, and..”

               He hated listening to this stupid girl spew out every thought in her empty brain.  He hated sitting in group therapy and listening to the peons that he shared the facility with whining about their inconsequential problems.  He hated having to hug people.  He hated being stuck in this adult daycare while he should be leading his Acolytes to victory against humankind (and racking up a few kill points for the Upstarts while he was at it.)  Something in his mind was breaking free.

               “Enough!” he snapped, jumping to his feet.  “This isn’t right!  I shouldn’t be here!”  Boomer paused in her Kit-Kat flavor recital.

               “Whoa, dude.  Chill out. You need a time-out, or something? Maybe you need some time in the Angry Room.”

“No, I do not need some time in the Angry Room,” Fabian snarled.  “I don’t belong here with the  rest of these losers, there’s nothing wrong with me.  I’m….I’m so much better than the rest of you.  I’m practically a god!  I should be….should be –“  His eyebrow twitched.  His body shuddered, and a fixed grin came over his face.

               “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying things like that. What am I thinking?  We’re all special in our own way.  I just want us all to be friends,” Fabian continued.  A single tear leaked out of one corner of his eye.

               “Hey, good job, man,” said Boomer, patting him on the shoulder. “You recognized a negative thought pattern, and then, like, stopped it.  That totally deserves a Hershey Kiss.”  She tossed him the silver wrapped chocolate.

               “Thank you.”  Fabian shuddered again, and then his body seemed to relax, his tense smile softening into one that seemed genuine, if a bit dazed.  “I like Hershey Kisses.”

               “Don’t we all, buddy.”

               “They are good,” Fabian continued, pulling the foil off and popping the chocolate in his mouth absent-mindedly.  “This place is a good place.  We are all good here.”

               At the table, another group was mid-way through a fairly intense game of Uno.  Most of the group (X-Men included), would have preferred poker, but apparently that wasn’t wholesome enough the rehabilitation process.

               “I’m just saying, we didn’t start the war.”  Avalanche slapped down a card, perhaps slightly too hard. “Humans want to stomp out anyone who’s different.  That’s the whole damn history of the human race.”

               “But nothing will change if we continue the cycle of violence,” argued Colossus.  

               “We must ‘turn the other cheek,’” agreed Nightcrawler. “Send out a message of peace and love.” He betrayed that sentiment by tossing down a Draw Four card.

               “Yeah, and the guy that did that got nailed to a cross, didn’t he?”  Avalanche retorted.  “Didn’t work out so well for him.”

               “You can’t be expecting us to imitate Christ, can ya?” Pyro put in, throwing a Reverse on the stack.  “He was all flawless and perfect and ‘ineffable,’ right?  And he had a get-out-of-death-free card.  We ain’t got that.”  

               “You could have that, by the Grace of God –“ Nightcrawler began, than stopped, shaking his head.  “I’m sorry, this is not the right place for that conversation.  I know religion is very personal, and everyone must make their own choices.  But I will talk about it with any of you privately, if you want.”

               “All I’m saying is, humans have tried to bloody kill us,” Pyro continued.  “Are we supposed to just lie down and take it?  I’ve had people turn on me, even back before the Brotherhood, before I committed any crimes.  People that I thought I could trust.”  The cards in his hand crumpled as his fist clenched.

               “Humans are fucking brutal.  I’ve seen…..”  Avalanche shook his head.  “There was a woman back on Kalymnos, gave birth to a baby with gills.  Nothing wrong with the kid otherwise, it was just a cute baby.  But people acted like it was the damn anti-Christ.  Her husband moved out and wouldn’t have anything to do with her. And one day….”  A slight tremor rippled across the table as he continued. “One day some guy just snatched the baby out of her arms and threw it down on the rocks.  I’ll never forget how she screamed.  And nothing ever happened to the guy.  He was a murderer, and the police did nothing.  Everyone just pretended that it never happened –“  The table shook visibly now, the vibrations spreading out into the ground around them.

               “Tovarish, please calm down.  I understand how that memory must pain you, but –“    

               The vibrations suddenly stopped.  For a moment, Avalanche looked confused, then a dull smile spread across his face.

               “I’m sorry, friends.  I just get upset sometimes, thinking about that.  I shouldn’t dwell on such horrible memories.”

               “Yes, we should just think about good things,” Pyro agreed, wearing the same sickly smile.  “We are in a good place.  We are all good here.”

               Sitting in the sun on the roof, Toad wrapped his arms around himself, smiling.  He felt….good.  For the first time that he could remember, he was entirely at peace with himself.  He wasn’t plagued with anxiety at every social interaction, waiting for the inevitable rejection, wasn’t miserable when he looked into the mirror.  No more flashbacks or sudden fits of sadness or anger.  He woke up and was actually eager to get out of bed in the morning, eager for a day that he knew would bring good things.  And people were actually being nice to him!  There was no superficial politeness or poorly hidden disgust, no cheap pity.  Just genuine kindness.  His counselors and the other former super-villains actually seemed glad to see him every day.

               Of course, sometimes it felt too good to be true. Sometimes he would look around and everything would feel slightly off, like one of those hyper-realistic dreams where you can only tell that you’re dreaming because something in your room is out of place.  He felt like he was constantly wrapped in a blanket of warm air, and it was so good and comforting, but it made him dull and sleepy.  (Perhaps this was what being drunk was supposed to be like?  For the normal people?  When Toad tried alcohol, it only seemed to make him sad.)  Things were very hazy, and it was hard to put his thoughts together.  But that didn’t matter, did it?  Because finally he was safe and happy, and everyone was so nice.

               “This is a good place,” he said aloud to no one in particular. “We are all good here.”

[sgt-mark-smith]

And now I get to write about my devout baby, my strange fish, and the current love of my life. Big time spoilers under the cut!

So obviously the first thing we need is a little eye candy!

All right, meta time, here we go!

By far my favorite character, and tied with his sister for the most interesting, Manaaki Kokiri was made in a blender to be my kryptonite. He’s got the religious conviction, the layers of guilt, the war trauma, the sincerity, the dumbassery, the ‘oddness,’ the sad eyes, he’s got it all and I love him. I’m not the only one either; he seems to have a way of winning the hearts of the white people around him without even trying.

(Unless they’re clearly being framed by the text as Bad News like Miss Violet here, of course!)

Of course I have to talk about the religiosity first, because where else would I start, right? Characters with religious convictions, especially male characters with religious convictions, are irresistible to me, and here comes Bible-totin’, Scripture-quotin’ Manaaki, on an errand from his Prophet (I’ll talk a lot more about Manaaki vis-a-vis the Prophet when I get to the speculation at the end). Like I said, I don’t know exactly where under the Christendom umbrella his religious beliefs are, but he’s got them!

And even when his life upends and he clearly can’t go back to the home where his religious self was born and nurtured, he still holds onto that religiosity because I think it’s the closest thing to ‘home’ he has left - though the pitch of that religiosity shifts, has much more gravitas by the end.

(I can’t do gifs, screengrabs are the best you’re going to get.)

And I don’t know how much of this is actually in the script and how much of it is the acting, but he’s just. he’s so. I know I can’t keep just slapping the autism label on every character I come across, but look at him! He normally takes care to be polite (when he’s not furiously trying to shame his sister) but seems to need minor social nudges - Charlie has to tell him to take off his hat inside the hotel, and both Cissy and Will Chambers call him ‘odd.’ He also has a very sincere manner - whether as a result of writing, direction, acting choices, or all three - but I find it very sweet.

And he’s a dumbass! Awa told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t want to go back to the compound, that she didn’t want to be tied down as some man’s broodmare, and yet the moment she showed up all wide-eyed claiming that ‘oh I said I was leaving my director and he frightened me 🥺” he totally believed her!

Also, stereotypes about violent brown men are bad and harmful, but at the same time, brown men should get to be a little feral sometimes as a treat. Awa obviously knew Manaaki had it in him, what with the way she turned him loose against Alonso, even if it did end up majorly backfiring on her. And of course that feral side came allll the way out on the war front. Such are the things that happen when we go to war, you know.

(We’ll come back to No Man’s Land, don’t you worry.)

He’s as sexist as any other of the other dudes around him, of course, to the point that he has no problem being a judgy bitch to the sister who literally raised him. He obviously thinks the best treatment you can give a woman is to lock her down into marriage and see that she’s materially provided for. He clearly doesn’t get what Bea means when she says ‘women aren’t horses,’ and even refers to Cissy as a ‘pretty mare.’ (I’m gonna say more about Manaaki and Cissy in another meta, because boy do I have a lot to say about that pairing!)

We’ve gotta talk about Harry. Oh boy have we got to talk about Harry! I’ve already made this clear in the screengrab posts, but to me Manaaki and Harry are the show’s real gay soldier ship, so much so that one of them even dies - in combat, no less! (This in contrast to the canonically gay twinks that, to the show’s credit, do both make it out of the war alive and back into each other’s arms. Like, this show purposely avoided the bury-your-gays with its actual gays ... only for Harry’s death to feel like a bury-your-gays!)

Let me just give you a few screengrabs.

Please watch the show, you really do just have to see them together. The chemistry is. Wow.

And of course a major part of the appeal is that they’re so opposite, character-wise. Harry, a gamblin’ good-for-nothing shit-stirring contrarian scalawag, and church boy Manaaki (wink at @vintonharper​). And even in the field, it’s Harry who’s running a little black market on his own while Manaaki’s out here Scripture-checking the chaplain and disobeying orders (technically) to avoid using a gun, at least the one time. And Harry gets Manaaki to drink, to accept black market ... onions, I guess, little things. You’ll never convince me they didn’t explore each other’s bodies at least once offscreen.

And I’m not going into detail about That Moment, or about what Manaaki did, because I have nothing to say. Nothing. It wrecked me, okay?

But the larger effects of the war on Manaaki are actually why I would argue that WWGTW is really his story. This is where the arc really takes shape. “Does the Bible not say it is a sin to kill?” he asks at the Smiths’ dinner table with all the certainty in the world. Then comes the death of Alonso, and the text really leaves it up to the viewer as to how much responsibility Manaaki actually bears for it, and it shakes him up; he initially goes to war desperately trying not to actively shoot anyone ... and then this moment.

There’s a breath, after the gun goes off for the first time, and then the switch happens, and he’s a sniper now. Later when the detective first comes by and he runs to Awa in distress, he calls himself a murderer - “I’ve killed many men!” - and tells Cissy that he feels like a corrupting influence. And when Detective Blaine asks him directly if he would kill again? He nods. And later he goes back to the war front.

(Now this is where the show is handicapped by how short it is, because there isn’t time for Manaaki’s church boy half and traumatized killer half to really integrate so that he can become a whole person. It feels a little rushed, watching Ghost-Harry vanish into the night during the evacuation; it doesn’t feel quite right, watching him read Cissy’s letter and smile while the framing implies that he’s going to go home and start co-parenting his son soon.)

And the way he essentially falls into the arms of the Smith family after Harry’s death can be read as slightly unhealthy, their glomming onto him as a repalcement son/brother when he’s at his most vulnerable, and yet.

That traditional greeting/farewell that Manaaki gives Bea especially, with the warm glow of the sun over their shoulders, absolutely wrecked me and I love it with all my heart. God, the feels it gave me! That ‘smith family loving manaaki for 1000 minutes’ tag exists on my blog for a reason, and I wouldn’t give it up for the world. Awa might prefer (or just have gotten accustomed to) a life of emotional reticence, but Manaaki doesn’t seem built for that.

(That there autism, see. Contrary to popular belief, we’re usually deeply social, we just need people in our lives who are kind to us when we’re not masking.)

Okay, time for some speculation!

I have a theory that the Prophet was a major father figure to Manaaki after the departure of the elder Mr. Kokiri. The bright-eyed reverence with which Manaaki refers to ‘my Prophet,’ the fact that the Prophet clearly knows he can deploy Manaaki to bring Awa back, the way Awa talks about how the Prophet intends to reward him - there’s a relationship there, and it didn’t happen overnight.

This relates to what I theorized about Awa and why she fled, because it sounds to me like the Prophet seized on the opportunity to groom two orphans, and Manaaki was young enough to be successfully molded where Awa wasn’t. Which also suggests that Manaaki’s growing closeness to the Prophet was a big wedge between them, and that the Prophet perhaps leveraged that closeness to get at Awa. Thus her (likely) cutting off direct contact with Manaaki after she left (“You found me, you clever bugger.”).

I don’t know how big a role the Prophet plays in Manaaki’s spirituality, though. He continues to be actively religious even after he’s lost the chance to go home. Clearly the Prophet gives himself leave to all the sex he wants, but Manaaki is pure as the driven snow when he meets Cissy, which is hardly the norm for young men who grow up with that kind of religious entitlement.

Because the Prophet clearly shaped how he views women and sexuality, Awa included; he reacts to the loss of his virginity with guilt, and yet he doesn’t seem to think less of Cissy for her clear desire for him. (Although I could be giving him too much credit, and the lack of conflict around Manaaki losing respect for Cissy could just be another result of the absurdly short runtime.)

Well, there’s more I could say and will say about Manaaki, but I think I’ve hit a lot of the highlights. He’s an amazingly layered and complex character, performed to perfection by Alex Tarrant.

[saint-patrice]

Tbh I would like to have the 34 *other* Bergy pics on your shortlist, complete with commentary lolol. And then (if you’re still waiting that is) any other Marchy pics with commentary? xD xD

oh my godddd you are my favourite person anon - ask and ye shall receive 😎 i should maybe warn that while this doesn’t have actual nsfw content you probably wouldn’t want to read this to your kids as a bedtime story. anyway, here we go: 

this was very close to making the original list. i like the soft lighting and the kind of floofy hair, yet he still looks like he could absolutely fuck me up (both like in a fight and various other ways). this photo gets me thinking some thoughts ™ if i am being honest

a literal saint and god amongst men right here. his brown eyes are so soft and his little smile puts me at ease. this is a man who would treat me right (fact). this photo is also from quite deep into the playoffs so the beard is going a little wild, and whilst i’m glad it isn’t like this all of the time, i very much appreciate it when it’s around.

O CAP’N MY CAP’N (sorry zee). nah for real this exudes some real sexy alternate energy. if i were on the opposing team and i saw this formidable man just skating around looking like that i think i’d just go back down the tunnel and hide in the locker room. this man will fucking kneecap you for the sake of a goal if that’s what it takes. and then i remember that it’s patrice and he’s the nicest man alive and he would literally never, but that’s still the energy this image has. and i ain’t saying i don’t like it.

okay this is just cute. they look like 2 dads who aren’t entirely sure how to take a selfie but are willing to try. the outfits lend this a slightly chaotic energy - i can’t commend zee’s colour combo if i’m honest, and when juxtaposed with the plaid shirt it kind of hurts my head. but it adds to the dad energy so i still love it. also this is from chara’s ig and the caption is super sweet.

DADS WITH THEIR KIDS ALWAYS GETS ME. i don’t even want kids, nor do i particularly like them, but seeing a man with his child is the cutest thing in the world and this, predictably, is no exception. patrice’s son 100% has his eyes which is really cute. speaking of patrice’s eyes, he may be smiling here but if you look into his eyes all you will see is fear - that child does not appear too bothered about remaining upright on the ice, and i suspect thay bergy is concerned about this. it would be criminal for me to not comment on the jeans. bergy has some exceptional thighs as these jeans do an excellent job of highlighting that.

this is Hot, and i’m not accepting criticism on that opinion. the crisp white shirt w no jacket or tie, and the top buttons undone???? i need a lie down. the hands are also making a nice appearance which i can always appreciate. basically what i’m saying is that i’m jealous of that snake this is an excellent photo and i owe the bruins instagram person a drink for posting it.

do you remember when i said bergy had marvellous thighs? well take a fucking sip babes - they’re like tree trunks carved out of carrara marble. if i have to die i want it to be because they crushed my skull. this is also one of the clearest photos i’ve seen of his tattoo, so it has that going for it too ( sidenote if anyone has an image with literally a pixel of his tattoo pls send it my way, i’m getting desperate at this point). i also think men in jewellery is a good look so i’m digging his beaded bracelets and silver chain. fantastic picture all round.

yeah okay there’s no escaping that the main reason this one made the list is 🍑. it’s exquisite. those pants also do a great job on the thighs too. the hair, socked feet (no i dont have a fetish i just think ppl in their socks with no shoes is kind of funny), and hands get an honourable mention

is this the only picture that has ever mattered? i’d believe it. patrice just lovingly gazing down at his son giving his hockey husband a handshake? you just can’t beat it. i have also been emotionally ruined by that tiny #37 jersey oh my

in the interest of being polite, i will describe this look as rugged. he has probably objectively looked better but i just like this photo and awful lot.

i don’t think i can give any commentary on this without saying something genuinely not suitable for public eyes. the 2 things i will say are: the only thing keeping me going completely feral horny looking at this is those pants,, if they were black or navy i’d be dead; and patrice i am begging you to do up a few more buttons on your shirt or remove it completely or i’m not going to live much longer.

oh man i just love this??? i can’t even explain why. the lack of much beard and the expression in his eyes just makes him look massively soft - i would give him a kiss on the nose and a cuddle in this photo

(gif via @gaudreau) i am slightly loathe to admit this bc it sounds weird but cuts and bruises can sometimes be a real look so this checks that box for me. his smile when he talks truly is one of the finer things in life too. also the lil shrug. i love you mr pikachu

a** fantastic **angle. this is just prime beautiful bergy.  excellent level of beard imo, the lighting shows off his v nice bone structure, and the nose is looking fab as always. weird observation of the day is that his neck looks nice in this

i mean obviously this had to go in - lord knows it’s fucking iconic. i have so many questions about how this situation came to be (aside from the fact that alcohol was involved. did brad initiate it? or patrice? why are they spinning? what the fuck? how the fuck? why was i not invited?) but anyway, this photo increased my thirst for a shirtless bergy photo at least two-hundredfold. at this point it’s a need not a want. i don’t think i can continue to comment on this without straying into nsfw territory so we’ll leave it at that. oh the things i would do

classic humble patrice making an appearance here, reminding us that he is not only the most handsome bastard to ever walk planet earth, but he’s a great guy too. just can’t hate him. and boy is he handsome in this gif. excellent stubble (im really invested in his facial hair if you hadn’t noticed), and the smile that could melt even my cold heart on display here. also bonus points for the previously mentioned thing about cuts/bruises. (sorry). i love this one 

in contrast to some of the prior ones, this picture is so cute that i can make nothing but pg comments about it. this is exactly the same face we all make when someone points a camera at us and says “cheese!” and i love that. the man looks good in white. good, wholesome content right here.

(gif via @weekendatbergysblog) okay the baby is cute but the fucking headband is what gets me in this. i’m able to make no further comment because this short circuits my brain.

(gif via @davidpastrnut)when i first saw this gif i had to go find the source video because i didn’t believe he actually said that but i’m here to tell you: he did. i love these hockey husbands so much. also i saw this tagged as “# hot waiter” one time and i still haven’t got over how accurate that is. someone more talented than me, i’m begging you for that fucking au 

(gif via @gaudreau) can patrice please stop looking up ??? it’s unfair that someone can look so good just looking in a direction what the fucK. he’s so stunning.

i love this one. brad pulling his hoodie down like that looks like he’s... soliciting and honestly who could blame him. bergy looks very cute, if a bit edgy in the all black. the hand is a treat in this one hooooooooooooooooo yes

this one show’s off patrice’s dark features very well. it’s amazing how he has such dark hair, dark eyes, big dark eyebrows, and dark facial hair, yet it doesn’t overcrowd or shadow his face ( except occasionally in awful lighting) ??? does anyone actually know how that works?? he’s looking very pensive here, and that hoodie looks oh-so-cosy. absolutely would cuddle.

**how cute is this y’all. **in case you thought you were just missing something, no, patrice is not sitting on a chair. he’s just maintaining that deep squat like a champ. maybe that’s the secret to his sublime thighs... the navy/deep red is an excellent look on him, and we get a rare glimpse of bergy with his wedding ring, which i find to be oddly cute. bonus points for him being beside a very cute kid too :)

(gif via @jakedebrask) this, i, ummmmm. i- uhh. just. um. yeah. so like. uhhhh... swiftly moving on

(gif via @davidpastrnut) this motherfucker and his handsome fucking face even looks good in that god-awful wooly patriots hat. honestly it looks like he’s about to go out and have a snowball fight (presumably with brad). decidedly rather domestic and i love it

(gif via @davidpastrnut) intense media patrice is intense. this is such a classic bergy face though, i love it. every time some media person asks him some big long question he puts on this exact very-invested-and-slightly-concerned face, its iconic. looking cosy in a hoodie once again. stop it. 

nice polo, dude

(gif via @davidpastrnut) that tshirt looks like its fighting for its life to contain those biceps. a dark, brooding patrice that has some sort of slow burn au stirring deep in my mind. from other angles in this interview the tattoo is fairly visible also.

this has such a strong energy it almost knocked me off my feet. again, i can see this being some sort of business or maybe criminal masterminds au. but fuck me, does that man looking something beautiful in a suit. the one hand in the pocket is quite frankly BDE too. i’m glad i’m not into dadkes or esle i think this whole picture would be too much for me.

he is literally the kind of man you’d want to bring home to your parents. i’m glad he seems to have cashed in on the navy/deep red combo because it really does suit him. he looks so fucking dapper here i may be very much in love

another excellent on-ice shot of him, albeit his slightly concerned expression. the beard is looking fucking crisp here hello sir. not much else to say on this, just a handsome, handsome boy.

(gif via @jeffsamardzija) another one that gives me Thoughts. he’s literally so beautiful. hair is cut a little shorter than usual on the sides and on anyone else it would scream fuckboy but i’m kind of digging it on bergy, at least on this one occasion. if i say anything else we’ll go down the rabbit hole

oof this is_ intense. _bergy aside, this is just an incredible shot tbh. rare that we get to see mr perfect not completely level-headed and playing it cool so it feels like a treat when we do. lowkey hot ngl

last but very certainly not least, mr patrice bergeron, four-time bergeron award winner, holding the award itself. this photo honestly just makes my heart swell a little with pride - it’s what he deserves!!!! just absolutely dapper in a beautiful suit as always, and a smile that could topple a nation to round it all off.

thank you so much for this anon!!! it was rather self-indulgent but i hope you like it :) also i will absolutely do another one with marchy, although my nails have been dry for about 2 hours now so i’ll probably do it tomorrow or friday, but it’s on its way :)

[luvneedsnosyt]

My Selections for GRAMMYS 2020

Continuing what I started last year here’s my reaction to the GRAMMY Nominations with my selections for who I believe should win, and also who I would have picked for each category.

Let me first lay out the ground rules: - I will be following the time frame for eligibility which is October 1st 2018 to September 30th 2019. - I will be ignoring categories for genres I don’t listen to enough. Metal, Country, Classical, Jazz, will be left off. - I am ignoring that the Performance categories are a mixture of recordings and live performances and just treating them as genre specific “Records of the year” awards. The one’s with “Song” in the title are geared more towards the song writing. - I will first make my selection of the available options. Bold and underlines will be my top selection with underlined not bold as my runner up. - I will then make my own selections for each category and who I think should win out of that. - My selection is not just a list of my favorite albums. My selections will be a balancing act taking in account artistic accomplishments, Impact both culturally and popularity as well as what I personally think is good. - I made a few liberties with some of my selections, mostly from the rules for eligibility being vague in spots. - This list is just all my biased suggestions. I’m sure there will be some major differences in opinions with anybody who reads this. - Feel free to shoot me a message to discuss more with me anything you wish to!

Album of the Year:

Ariana Grande - Thank U, Next Billie Eilish - WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE SO WE GO? Bon Iver - I,I H.E.R. - I Used To Know Her Lana Del Rey - Norman Fucking Rickwell Lil Nas X - 7 Lizzo - Cuz I Love You Vampire Weekend - Father Of The Bride

My Picks: Big Wild - Superdream Jacob Banks - The Village Illenium - ASCEND Khalid - Free Spirit Lizzo - Cuz I Love You Nick Murphy - Run Fast Sleep Naked Nilfür Yanya - Miss Universe Tyler, The Creator - IGOR

Record of the Year:

Ariana Grande - 7 Rings Billie Eilish - Bad Guy Bon Iver - Hey, Ma H.E.R. - Hard Place Khalid - Talk Lil Nas X - Old Town Road (Feat. Billy Ray Cyrus) Lizzo - Truth Hurts Post Malone & Swae Lee - Sunflower

My Picks: Avicii - SOS (Feat. Aloe Blacc) Bon Iver - Hey Ma Flume - Let You Know (Feat. London Grammer) G Flip - About You Illenium - Good Things Fall Apart (Feat. Jon Bellion) Khalid - Talk Lizzo - Cuz I Love You Taylor Swift - Lover

Song of the Year:

Billie Eilish - Bad Guy H.E.R. - Hard Place Lady Gaga - Always Remember Us This Way Lana Del Rey - Norman Fucking Rockwell Lewis Capaldi - Someone You Loved Lizzo - Truth Hurts Taylor Swift - Lover Tanya Tucker - Bring Me Flowers Now

My Picks: Flux Pavilion - Somebody Else (Feat. GLNNA)  G Flip - I Am Not Afraid Gryffin & Aloe Blacc - Hurt People Kahlid - Better Maggie Rogers - Alaska MUNA - Stayaway LÉON - You & I

Best New Artist:

Billie Eilish Black Pumas Lil Nas X Lizzo Maggie Rogers ROSALÍA Tank and the Bangas Yola

My Picks: Billie Eilish Clairo Dermot Kennedy G Flip Jacob Banks Kim Petras Maggie Rogers Nilfür Yanya

Best Pop Solo Performance:

Ariana Grande - 7 Rings Beyoncé - Spirit Billie Eilish - Bad Guy Lizzo - Truth Hurts Taylor Swift - You Need To Calm Down

My Picks: Bon Iver - Hey, Ma Billie Eilish - Bad Guy G Flip - About You Maggie Rogers - Alaska Nilfür Yanya - Heavyweight Champion of the Year

Best Pop Duo/Group Performance:

Ariana Grande & Social House - Boyfriend Jonas Brothers - Sucker Lil Nas X - Old Town Road (Feat. Billy Ray Cyrus) Post Malone & Swae Lee - Sunflower Shawn Mendes & Camila Cabello - Senorita

My Picks: James Blake - Barefoot in the Park (Feat. ROSALÍA) JOHNNYSWIM - Souvenir Khalid - Outta My Head (Feat. John Mayer) Mark Ronson - Late Night Feelings (Feat. Lykke Li) MUNA - Stayaway

Best Pop Vocal Album:

Ariana Grande - thank u, next Beyonce - The Link King: The Gift Billie Eilish - WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO? Ed Sheeran - No. 6 Collaborations Project Taylor Swift - Lover

My Picks: Billie Eilish - WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO? G Flip - About Us Kim Petras - Clarity Maggie Rogers - Heard It In A Past Life Nilfür Yanya - Miss Universe

Best Dance Recording:

Bonobo - Linked The Chemical Brothers - Got To Keep On Meduza Feat. Goodboys - Piece Of Your Heart RÜFÜS DU SOL - Underwater Skrillex & Boyz Noize - Midnight Hour (Feat. Ty Dolla $ign)

My Picks: Big Wild - Joypunks Flume - Let You Know (Feat. London Grammer) Flux Pavilion - Somebody Else (Feat. GLNNA) Illenium - Good Things Fall Apart (Feat. Jon Bellion) Elohim - runnin

Best Dance/Electronic Album:

Apparaty - LP5 The Chemical Brothers - No Georgraphy Flume - Hi This Is Flume [Mixtape] RÜFÜS DU SOL - Solace Tycho - Weather

My Picks: Big Wild - Superdream Alan Walker - Different World Illenium - ASCEND RÜFÜS DU SOL - Solace Whethan - Life of a Wallflower Vol. 1

Best Rock Performance:

Bones UK - Pretty Waste Gary Clark Jr. - This Land Brittany Howard - History Repeats Karen O & Danger Mouse - Woman Rival Sons - Too Bad 

My Picks: FIDLAR - Get Off My Rock Karen O & Danger Mouse - Turn the Light Mother Mother - Dance and Cry The Ting Tings - Estranged Foals - Exits

Best Rock Song:

Tool - Fear Inoculum The 1975 - Give Yourself A Try Vampire Weekend - Harmony Hall Brittany Howard - History Repeats  Gary Clark Jr. - This Land 

My Picks: Brittany Howard - He Loves Me Circa Waves - Sorry I’m Yours Karen O & Danger Mouse - Woman Of Monsters and Men - Rororo Vampire Weekend - This Life

Best Rock Album:

Bring Me The Horizon - amo Cage The Elephant - Social Cues The Cranberries - In The End I Prevail - Trauma Rival Sons - Feral Roots

My Picks: Bring Me The Horizon - amo Circa Waves - What’s It Like Over There? Foals - Part I: Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost Mother Mother - Laugh and Cry The 1975 - A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships

Best Alternate Album:

Big Thieft - U.F.O.F. Bon Iver - I,I James Blake - Assume Form Vampire Weekend - Father of the Bride Thom Yorke - Anima

My Picks: Bon Iver - I,I Nick Murphy - Ran Fast Sleep Naked James Blake - Assume Form Karen O & Danger Mouse - Lux Prima Vampire Weekend - Father of the Bride

Best R&B Performance:

Daniel Caesar & Brandy - Love Again H.E.R. - Could’ve Been (Feat. Bryson Tiller) Lizzo - Exactly How I Feel (Feat. Gucci Mane) Lucky Daye - Roll Some Mo Anderson .Paak - Come Home (Feat. Andre 3000)

My Picks: Kindness - Hard To Believe (Feat. Jazmine Sullivan & Sampha) Mahlia - What You Did (Feat. Ella Mai) Maverick Sabre - Slow Down (Feat. Jorja Smith) Nicole Bus - You Rationale - Explosions 

Best Traditional R&B Performance:

BJ The Chicago Kid - Time Today India.Arie - Steady Love Lizzo - Jerome Lucky Daye - Real Games PJ Morton - Built For Love (Feat. Jazmine Sullivan)

My Picks: BANKS - Look What You’re Doing to Me (Feat. Francis & The Lights) Jacob Banks - Love Ain’t Enough Kahlid - Better Lizzo - Cuz I Love You Ruti - Racing Cars

Best R&B Song:

H.E.R. - Could’ve Been (Feat. Bryson Tiller) Emily King - Look At Me Now Chris Brown - No Guidance (Feat. Drake) Lucky Daye - Roll Some Mo PJ Morton - Say So (Feat. JoJo)

My Picks: BJ The Chicago Kid - Reach (Feat. Afrojack) Khalid - Free Spirit Lucky Daye - Concentrate Maverick Sabre - Weakness Ruti - Racing Cars

Best Urban Contemporary Album:

Steve Lacy - Apollo XXI Lizzo - Cuz I Love You Georgia Anna Muldrow - Overload NAO - Saturn Jessie Reyes - Being Human in Public

My Picks: BANKS - III Kindness - Something Like War Lizzo - Cuz I Love You Maverick Sabre - When I Wake Up NAO - Saturn

Best R&B Album:

BJ The Chicago Kid - 1123 Lucky Daye - Painted Ella Mai - Ella Mai PJ Morton - Paul Anderson .Paak - Ventura

My Picks: BJ The Chicago Kid - 1123 Dawn Richard - New Breed Jacob Banks - The Village Kahlid - Free Spirit Anderson .Paak - Ventura

Best Rap Performance:

J. Cole - Middle Child DaBaby - Suge Dreamville - Down Bad (Feat. J.I.D., Bas, J. Cole, EARTHGANG & Young Nudy) Nipsey Hussle - Racks in the Middle (Feat. Roddy Rich & Hit-Boy) Offset - Clout (Feat. Cardi B)

My Picks: Denzel Curry - RICKY Big K.R.I.T. - K.R.I.T. HERE Freddie Gibs & Madlib - Palmolive (Feat. Pusha T & Killer Mike) Little Simz - Boss Mustard - Pure Water (Feat. Migos)

Best Rap/Song Performance:

DJ Khaled - Higher (Feat. Nipsey Hussle & John Legend) Lil Baby & Gunna - Drop Too Hard Lil Nas X - Panini Mustard - Ballin (Feat. Roddy Rich) Young Thug - The London (Feat. J. Cole & Travis Scott)

My Picks: Chance The Rapper - All Day (Feat. John Legend) GoldLink - Zulu Screams (Feat. Maleek Berry & Babi Bourelly) Kevin Abstract - Joyride Lizzo - Tempo (Feat. Missy Elliott) TOBi - Come Back Home (Feat. VanJess)

Best Rap Song:

YBN Cordae - Bad Idea (Feat. Chance The Rapper) Rick Ross - Gold Roses (Feat. Drake) 21 Savage - A Lot (Feat. J. Cole) Nipsey Hussle - Racks in the Middle (Feat. Roddy Rich & Hit-Boy) DaBaby - Suge

My Picks: Boogie - Soho (Feat. JID) JID - 151 Rum Rapsody - Nina Raja Kumari - SHOOK YBN Cordae - Have Mercy

Best Rap Album:

Dreamville - Revenger Of The Dreamer III Meek Mill - Chamionships 21 Savage - I Am> I Was Tyler, The Creator - IGOR YBN Cordae - The Lost Boy

My Picks: Denzell Curry - ZUU GoldLink - Diaspora Rapsody - Eve Lil Simz - GREY Area Tyler, The Creator - IGOR

Producer of the Year (Non-Classical):

Dan Auerbach Finneas Jack Antonoff John Hill Ricky Reed

My Picks: Big Wild Diplo Jack Antonoff Seven Lions Tyler, The Creator

[shoujolover-666]

Bloody Promise

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19838506

Summary:

A new Pureblood Vampire joins the Night Class.

Fandoms: HypMic and Vampire Knight

The moonlight shone through the window of the building, illuminating the classroom that was full of people. Each of them wore a white uniform, each of them beautiful in their own way. Whispers filled the silence of the room, the atmosphere was restless. In the front row, away from all the gossip, sat a man with shoulder long, brown hair and red-brown eyes. A book was in his hand, his demeanor and the air around him calm like the night itself. At the seat beside of him sat a man whose hair was blond and whose eyes had the intensity of emeralds, a worried gaze adorning his face.

“What’s wrong, Takuma?”

His silky voice echoed through the room, stopping everyone else from talking. Eyes were pointed at him, giving the man their full attention. The brunette wasn’t disturbed though, being used to it since he could think for himself. He put his book down, turning his head to the man, who took a look at the clock.

“Another Pureblood Vampire is supposed to join our class. Do you know, when he is going to arrive, Kaname?”

That was the reason for the uneasiness the vampires had. A Pureblood was rare, strong, the kings and queens in their world. They were the ones supposed to rule and lead them. Kaname was their leader, so what would happen, if another one joined them? Would they create chaos and try to overthrow their king? Or would they be docile and collected, trying to stay as undetectes as possible? Many of the noble vampires were curious. What kind of personality would they have? Before Kaname was able to answer his friends question, the door of the classroom was pushed open with a bang. A flash of pink entered the room, their minty coloured eyes gleaming with a spark of mischief as he strode over to the table of the dark haired vampire, taking a seat on it and leaning down to get on his level. His legs were swinging back and forth, a lollipop stuck between his lips that sported a grin. He took the candy out of his mouth and grabbed the others chin with his free hand, tilting his head so he could take a better look.

“How pretty. I may or may not ask you to be my model in the future~.”

A second later, the pinkette stood in front of the class, flashing a bright smile at the other vampires. Their eyes turned red for treating their leader with that much disrespect. Any lesser man would be intimidated by that sight, but the newcomer was completely unaffected.

“My name is Amemura Ramuda, designer and Pureblood extraordinaire~.”

His voice was sweet, sugary, almost dripping like honey. It was almost sickly sweet, underlining his cute and childlike appearance. If there wasn’t the pure power that radiated of him, nothing would have indicated, that he was just as powerful as their king. The whole room was quiet, most of them not sure, how to interact with a person like him. Even Hanabusa and Takuma weren’t that quirky, and they were already quite difficult to handle from time to time.

“Amemura-Kun, is that you?”

A surprised tone came from the direction of the door. Two vampires stood there. One was a slender girl with straight, orange hair that were tied in two pigtails and big, cerulean coloured eyes. The other was a boy with pale skin, mahogany coloured hair and his eyes had a blue tinted hue. Both of them seem to know the pinkette, something that surprised the people who already were in the classroom before they came.

________________________________________________________________________

His grin turned wider as he stormed over to them, knocking both of them to the ground with a hug.

Who would have thought that both of his favourite models would be his classmates? Both of the aristocrats were people, who he worked with in the past. They were a delight to work with, none of them bitching around about not wanting to wear certain pieces of clothes and acting like real professionals. In return, both of them seemed to like his designs, for they liked to request buying clothes from his collection, especially the girl, Rima Touya.

“It’s none other than me, the one who is beloved by all, ‘easy r’ at your service~. I missed the both of you, when are you going to work with me again, Rima-Chan? Senri-Chan?”

He was better known by his stage name. Some of the people in the room seemed to recognize him now, for excited murmur was heard through the room. It seemed like his designs were even more popular than he first thought. Others were wondering, how the both of them didn’t seem to know, that someone they worked with were about to join their class.

“Whenever our manager gives us the next job.”

Senris voice was as calm as ever, the other seemed like as if he was about to fall asleep any moment now. The sound of a loud clap resounded through the room before they could continue their talk. Kaname was standing, his aura authoritative as he looked at the Pureblood Vampire, his smile composed but cool.

“We all should calm down and take a seat. Yagari-Sensei is here, and he seems to have a colleague with him.”

At the teachers desk stood two men, both of them silent until everyone else stopped talking.

Yagari was the one with long, wavy, jet-black hair and a blue eyes. He was tall, wore a cowboy hat and a black coat, his hands were covered by black gloves.

The other man was just as tall, his lavender coloured hair straight and flowing down his back while his eyes gleamed blue. A white laboratory coat was his choice of clothes, and he was also wearing gloves, his colour of choice was white.

“Who would have thought, that we would see each other again like that, Jinguji Jakurai?”

Ramudas deep voice rang through the room, he was almost growling, surprising everyone except the one whose name was Jakurai. In an blink of an eye, the designer stood on the table, towering over the man who he was already more than acquainted with. Fingers grabbing his hair with a tight grip, a feral grin covering his lips. His lollipop cracked, crunched between his sharp teeth.

Oh how ironic it was to see the man again at this kind of place.

The human wasn’t concerned though, not at all.

Instead of cowering in fear, the man looked at him with calm eyes. This calmness, this composure… oh how he wanted to ram his teeth into his neck, rip it apart, gulp down his blood and make him his slave, his pet. His own, little Level E vampire. Make him beg to drink from him, to save him from the insanity that consumed the mind of every single End Level Vampire one day.

Before he was able to let his instincts go wild, the sound of a cocked pistol stopped him from doing so. It seemed like the Hunter was not happy with that situation.

“Take your hands off him, Pureblood.”

His finger slightly loosened, and the grin that resembled that of a carnivore disappeared of his face. What was left was a cheerful smile as the other jumped from the desk with a flourish.

“How mean, I just wanted to play a little~.”

He sounded cheerful, his voice high and sweet again. There was no trace left of the violent urge he had just a second ago. Ramuda felt that all eyes were on him, everyone of them curious, wanting to know what kind of past the two of them had. Even Kuran seemed to be interested in their relationship. Maybe it reminded him of someone else?

Not that it really mattered to the pinkette. By now, he was sitting at a free seat, supporting his head on his head. Everyone else slowly started to get to their own seats when they noticed, that the situation won’t escalate any further with the hunter in the room.

“Amemura-San already told you my name, so there is no need to repeat it. I am going to be your Biology and Science teacher in the future. Hopefully, we will get along nicely. If you have any questions to anything, please feel free to ask me.”

Oh how the other dared, not to look at him. To not give him the attention he deserved. To ignore what happened between them. He gritted his teeth for a second, before he put on his mask again. Jakurai will regret it, he would make sure of that.

His eyes wandered over to Kuran, who looked at him with a warning glance. That look made him giggle and he winked at him, it was cute to see how the ‘King’ tried to chide him.

How amusing.

Too bad that he was a ‘King’ himself.

A ‘King’, who had his eyes set on his prey.

If the other dared to get in his way, he wouldn’t mind ruining the plans he had for that human girl, who he seemed to cherish so much. It wasn’t a secret, that Yuki Cross was dear to him. Anyone who bothered to research for one minute would know that much. She was your typical naive human girl who thought, that humans and vampires could live together peacefully.

Someone, who had no appeal in his eyes whatsoever, but he didn’t mind playing with her if it meant to get back at the brunette vampire.

He giggled silently behind his hand, ignoring the stares he got for that action.

His attention was was caught by the teachers deep, smooth voice as he started class. Jakurais long, thin fingers glided over the pages, his look concentrated as he spoke about genetics or something like that.

Ramuda watched every single move the other made, his view locked on the tall mans face.

How pretty would he look underneath him, silken lips red from being bitten raw, tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. Hair fanned out, inviting him to pull on it.

The pinkette licked his lips, looking forward to unravel the former doctor completely and make him lose himself.

His obsession was deep, and his love dark. A vampires ‘affection’ came with a cost, and Jinguji Jakurai was a victim of it.

A victim who had no say on whether he wants to be loved like this or not.

This would be his own bloody promise to him.

[mswyrr]

As everyone is well aware by now — or should be — the refugee camps at the border are a national disgrace. If this was happening in another country (and if we had a different president) the United States would be leading the charge to condemn what was happening. The plight of families, particularly the kids, is an ongoing nightmare and Trump seems determined to exploit the pain and suffering of these vulnerable people to keep the country in a constant state of hysteria.

I noted last week that Trump had mentioned in passing that he wanted to take reporters to a recently cleaned-up facility featuring happy, well-fed children to prove how "fake" the reports of cruel and disgusting conditions were. So last Friday officials rounded up the vice president and a couple of senators, including Lindsey Graham, R-S.C., and Mike Lee, R-Utah, and brought them in for an "inspection." The propaganda ploy was exactly as one might expect: The kids were in a new, air-conditioned facility and seemed to be well cared for.

But even after observing and writing about the Trump administration's depraved use of xenophobia, racism and general fear-mongering for years now, I'm never quite prepared for the depths to which they will sink. I assumed they were doing this because they believed they needed to reassure their own voters of their basic humanity. I was wrong. The visit to the kiddie-camp was a little sop to some embarrassed churchgoers and the press. What Team Trump really wanted their voters to see was another camp — the one with hundreds of single, dark-skinned men in overcrowded cages, sleeping on concrete floors, desperately trying to get the attention of the exalted visitors from Washington to let them know what was going on.

As I see it, Trump officials wanted to reassure their voters that they were treating the scary brown people with much cruelty as they could get away with.

The Washington Post described it like this:

When Vice President Pence visited a migrant detention center here Friday, he saw nearly 400 men crammed behind caged fences with not enough room for them all to lie down on the concrete ground. There were no mats or pillows for those who found the space to rest. A stench from body odor hung stale in the air. When reporters toured the facility before Pence, the men screamed that they’d been held there 40 days, some longer. They said they were hungry and wanted to brush their teeth. It was sweltering hot, but the only water was outside the fences and they needed to ask permission from the Border Patrol agents to drink.

Pence appeared to scrunch his nose when entering the facility, stayed for a moment and left.

The men told reporters they hadn't been allowed a shower for as long as 40 days in some cases. There have been reports that the CPB officers' uniforms are so inundated with the smell of hundreds of unbathed humans in a small space that the local townspeople avoid them.

Pence objected to media coverage of this event over the weekend, complaining that they failed to show the nice pictures of the happy children and instead focused on the misery of all those men caged up like animals. But you'll notice that he immediately turns to the claim that many of the men were criminals, a charge Trump himself made over the weekend as well.

I'll say it again: If they hadn't wanted people to see those men being held in inhumane conditions, they wouldn't have gone there with the press in tow.

[...] So it's no coincidence, I'm sure,  that in the same week Trump announced that ICE would be conducting raids around the country to round up alleged criminals who have managed to avoid being thrown in cages, after which they will either be jailed or deported or both. Reports from major cities show that immigrant communities are now living in the grip of a terrible fear, which is half the point of doing it. The other half is to make Republican voters believe that Donald Trump is as tough and macho as he constantly proclaims himself to be.

[...] I was prepared to call Pence's border tour the most insidious public demonstration of bigotry we'd seen in many a moon. But Trump took it to a whole other level on Sunday with his openly racist tweets about the four freshman Democratic women of color, in which he basically told them to go back to their shithole countries.

This escalation of bigotry is no coincidence. I'm not saying that Trump sat down and strategized all this. He doesn't do that. But he has a well-honed feral instinct about the ugly underbelly of American life and he knows how to make it work for him.

[...] Democrats can argue among themselves about ideology over the next year or so if they wish. But essentially, that's what the 2020 election is going to be about whether they like it or not. Trump welcomes it because he believes that most Americans are as racist as he is and that he will be rewarded for this indecency with a second term. Expect this bigoted talk to ratchet up to levels we never imagined could be uttered in 21st-century America before this is all over. It already has.

[thatishogwash]

Welcome to Hotel Karasuno!

13 Days of HQ Halloween pt2

October 1 - Witches AO3

October 2 - Witches pt2 AO3

October 4 - Demons AO3

October 9 - Monsters AO3

October 10 - Costumes AO3

October 13 - Haunted Houses AO3

October 15 - Ghosts AO3

October 16 - Wewolves AO3

October 17 - Ghoul/Monsters AO3

October 24 - Vampire Hunters AO3

October 25 - Superheros AO3

October 26 - Zombies AO3

There’s a hotel hidden deep in the mountains of Japan's countryside, far from any path and buried in a thick, overgrown forest.  Humans who come near it get a deep sense of foreboding, slinking back away from the area where the light never quite reaches and invisible eyes watch their every move.  A primal instinct kicks in for mundane humans when they step too close to the area that houses the old, oddly medieval looking castle that looks as if one light wind might knock the whole thing over.

“Hello!  Welcome to Hotel Karasuno, how can I be of service?”  A chipper voice rings out in the large and lavish lobby.  Kenma turns towards the front desk, keeping his hood up though monsters and creatures alike wander about without fear of discovery.  Kenma lets Tetsurou handle the chipper front desk girl, she’s a tiny thing with little clips in her golden hair that look like twinkling stars in an every twisting galaxy.

“Hello sweetheart,” Kenma can tell Tetsurou is trying to be disarming but he towers over most people and especially over the little human-looking girl who blanches and leans back as Tetsurou flashes a sharp toothed smirk.  “Checking in for Nekoma, party of six.”

“O-of course!”  The girl chirps, fingers trembling as he grabs a large and dusty book to flip a couple pages.  Morisuke appears by Tetsurou’s side, jamming an elbow into the sensitive area below his ribs.

“Please forgive him, he’s a bit feral.”  Morisuke bit off the last word, shoving Tetsurou away from the front desk before removing his hood.  His light brown ears were pressed flat against his head in a clear sign of irritation.

“It’s n-no problem a-at all!”  The girl audibly swallows.

Kenma glances around the lobby, pitying the young girl and wondering who in their right mind would have put her on check-in duty.  Hotel Karasuno was a place of safety for monsters and while their were strict rules for those who stayed there, most tended to be even more terrifying than Tetsurou.  Even if the young receptionist was a witch, though Kenma felt no power from her at all, she was too close to a human to not be messed with by various guests.

“Do you need help Yachi?”  Even Kenma who had no interest in such things could tell that the glasses wearing woman who walked up behind the desk in a hotel uniform was beautiful.  Half her face was consumed by painful looking, barely healed burn marks while the other half remained pale and perfectly smooth.

“Oh Shimizu!”  The young girl, Yachi, looked relieved as she made space so the older woman could look through the book.

“Here it is.”  Shimizu wrote something down in the book with a long, feathered quill.  “Kinoshita, Ennoshita, Narita?  Could you take the guests bags and show them to their rooms.”  Three men all around the same height and wearing the hotel uniform peeled away from the shadows to take the keys from Shimizu.  Tetsurou declined having his bag taken but Kenma gladly handed is own over.

The hotel was much the same as the last time Kenma had visited.  Time was meaningless to a Yokai like him who would continue to live until all nine of his lives were taken.  Considering he was still on his first one and he was several hundreds of years old in human terms, he thought it’d be a while yet.  Still, he thought it was probably close to a decade since he last visited which would mean the same family should still own the hotel.

“Are the Hinata’s still in house?”  Kenma asked, earning a surprised look from his companions.  Mostly Kenma kept to himself around strangers but one of the hotel bell boys, the one with the sleepy eyes, turned back with a small smile.

“The young miss just graduated high school so the masters took her on a trip abroad to celebrate.”  He explained as they made their way up a grand staircase and then another.  Considering Nekoma were cat yokai they always asked for the highest rooms available.  Kenma did not appreciate the extra walking after the long trek to the hotel, but he did like the location of the rooms.  “So the young master is looking after the hotel while they are away.”

“Shouyou is the acting owner?”  Kenma asked, causing surprise from the hotel workers.

“Yes he is, he’ll be in the salon later tonight.”  The tallest of the three said.  “If you wish to speak to him.”

Kenma had met Hinata Shouyou the last time he stayed at the hotel.  Kenma was fond of his clan but sometimes they pressed in on him too much, especially with the younger yokai who couldn’t fully control themselves or their growing power yet.  He had needed a quiet retrieve and Nekomata had suggested Hotel Karasuno.  The Hinata family line had only come into ownership of the hotel a hundred or so years prior, before that it was a long line of Ukai’s who took care of it.  Little Hinata Shouyou had only been a child when Kenma had seen him, easily excitable and full of untapped power and loud enthusiasm.  Kenma had enjoyed his company quite a lot, had spent the majority of his time in his preferred small cat form, following the boy around on his various adventures through the hotel.  Guarding him from those guests who thought a human seeming boy would make a tasty snack.

The Hinata’s were powerful necromancers.  Most, human or monster, had an aversion to those who could control the dead.  Even in a society of nightmare creatures and those who lived on the edge of society, necromancers were not widely accepted.  Even so, the hotel was one of the few safe places for monsters and creatures and magic users alike so most feigned ignorance and the Hinata’s never flaunted their abilities.

Kenma distinctly remembered that during his last visit the staff had been made up of puppets.  Vaguely human looking dolls with porcelain faces and blank, unseeing eyes that obeyed orders and requests without feeling or emotion.

Tetsurou was given the first room and he walked past the sleepy eyed bellhop before stiffening, the pupils in his eyes becoming mere slits.  Nobuyuki and Morisuke were both being shown to their own rooms so they failed to notice Tetsurou’s reaction.

“Is the room to your liking?”  The plain looking man asked Tetsurou, who snapped out of whatever headspace he had been in and smiled, with sharp teeth, to the worker.

“Yes.”  Tetsurou said.  The sleepy eyed man then walked Kenma to his own room, using an ancient looking brass key to open the door, which despite it’s age swung open without a single squeak or groan.  The hotel employee put down Kenma’s bag before turning to Kenma to ask the same question he had of Tetsurou.

“Yes, thank you.”  Kenma said softly, moving past the man who was showing himself out but then Kenma caught a whiff of him and found himself stiffening, tensing and turning to watch him limp out and close the door quietly behind him.

Kenma’s sense of smell, like the rest of his clans, was heightened.  The bellhop might look perfectly human but he had the sickenly sweet scent of death and magic twisting around him, holding him together when all other senses and logic say he should be dead and long gone.

There were several different creatures who smelled of death, though each carried a different perfume from the others.  There were vampires, ghouls, wraiths, ghosts, or poltergeist.  Many others Kenma had personally met and some he had only heard about in stories and rumors.  But the smell Kenma had breathed in was one he would never forget because it was the scent of a zombie.

Zombies were taboo even amongst monsters like himself.  Tetsurou was a couple hundred years older than Kenma and even he had a negative reaction to the scent of a zombie, though Kenma knew Tetsurou’s own past was as checkered as they come.  Yet there was something unsettling about zombies, the undead creatures that necromancers raised and controlled.

Kenma had met a zombie before, it must have been several decades ago, perhaps closer to a century.  The necromancer had been old and twisted, the dark magic around him had made Kenma want to cover his nose and stand several feet away from him.  The creature that dragged itself after the necromancer had probably been quite beautiful in life, but death robbed most creatures of beauty and grace.  All humanity had been stripped from it, two deep coals of burning hatred had burned in the empty eye sockets and Kenma had felt it’s desperate need to break free of the chains the  necromancer had wrapped around it.  The zombie had only wanted to cause destruction, it was a creature that wished nothing else than to spread death around like a plague.  The only thing keeping the creature controlled was the necromancer who had treated it like a belonging.

Tetsurou came into Kenma’s room without knocking and sniffed the air before his amber colored eyes looked around.

“I haven’t met the Hinata’s, how about we go say hello to the young owner?”  Tetsurou asked with a sharp toothed smile that did nothing to hide the viciousness Tetsurou usually kept tight under wraps.  Kenma felt a wave of protective instinct hit him but before he could hide that, Tetsurou was raising an eyebrow in question.  “Kitten, it seems as if the entire staff has been replaced by zombies.  The boy you once knew might not be the man he is today.”

Kenma couldn’t imagine the shining little boy being anything but sweet and energetic, even as an adult.  He wasn’t used to being wrong about people.  Once upon a time there were those who had warned him to stay away from Tetsurou, the bakeneko had been a scourge on humankind for centuries.  Yet now he was happily living amongst other yokai, he hadn’t eaten a single human in many years.

“They aren’t like the zombie I remember.”  Morisuke spoke up, he must have also smelled what they were.

“Is that what that smells was?”  Taketora asked, nose scrunching up as if remembering the smell.

“Yes, and if the entire staff are zombies than it is a rather remarkable feat that the owner can control all of them.”  Nobuyuki stated, which was true enough.  Most necromancers spent the majority of their lifetime preparing to raise and control just one zombie, but it looked as if they had already met five.  Kenma had noticed that Yachi’s arm had been a different size and color the rest of her body, he had noted it but hadn’t thought much.  It must not be her arm at all.

They walked to the salon together, Nobuyuki switching over to sign language to explain to Taketora and Shouhei, who had never met a zombie before, what they were supposed to be and how odd the behavior of the ones they had met.  There were old myths that told a necromancer could control any dead, no matter what they were but from what Kenma understood they could only control corpses.  Whatever they pulled from the ether to pilot those undead was no more human than Kenma himself was.  Yet the zombies that worked at the hotel, or at least the ones they had met seemed to still have all or most of their humanity still intact.  They exhibited their own personalities, they moved and talked differently from each other.  Everything pointed at them not being zombies but Kenma’s nose had never been wrong before.

None of them were used to being that thrown off.  Kenma could tell it bothered the older yokai much more than it did the younger ones.  Nobuyuki, Morisuke, and Tetsurou had all travelled the world during their long lives.  Each one had more than three tails, meaning they had lived and died three separate deaths.  It was notoriously hard to kill one of their kind with just one tail, let alone more.  It meant they had all seen and experienced most of what the world had to offer and were not used to being on shaky ground.

A man wearing the uniform of the hotel staff came out a door, he looked perfectly human and handsome in a rather plain way but then his eyes landed on Tetsurou and he tensed.  Tetsurou had been talking to Morisuke, or more like trying to get a rise out of the shorter yokai, when he most likely felt someone's eyes on him.  He turned in time to catch a glimpse of the hotel staff right before the man turned and strode back down the hall he had come from.

Tetsurou’s eyes widened, in the blink of an eye he was standing at the turn to the hall the man had disappeared down.  Kenma came up behind him but the hallway was empty, just more hotel rooms lining the walls.

“Kuro?”  Kenma asked cautiously, stopping Tetsurou from going down the hall and possibly searching other guests room.

“I thought-” Tetsurou took a deep breath, holding it in and most likely mentally going through the scents he had collected.  “Nevermind, it’s impossible.”  Tetsurou shooed them all down the hall before they could question him further.  They all knew when Tetsurou was hiding something and it was unlikely any of them, even Kenma, would get him to open up before he was ready.

The salon was practically the last place Kenma would ever willingly go.  It was the place to get food, for those who ate it, or drinks and socialize.  Kenma would much rather eat up in the safety of his room, but he wanted to see Shouyou and he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was going on with the hotel staff.  So he pulled his hood over his face a little more, hiding in the shadows it provided, and allowed his clan to shift until they were on all sides of him.

They sat on a recently vacated sofa, an old looking thing that looked like it was from India but it was well taken care of.  They had only sat a few moments before another hotel staff dodged around various hotel guests in the salon to stand by them.  He looked rather young with a wealth of freckles on his face and his long dark hair pulled back into a half ponytail.  His face and what could be seen of his hands and neck looked like he was stitched back together after being cut into pieces.

“Hello, I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the hotel, may I start you off with any drinks?”  The boy delivered the line as if he had practiced it in the mirror every morning.  They  all ordered simple drinks.  “I’ll be right out with those, if you need anything else my name is Yamaguchi.”  He bowed politely, only stuttering once on his own name before he turned and walked away.

“Pardon me, I’m so sorry.”  A man with hair more silver than gray apologized as the long and thin pole he was using to walk knocked into someone’s chair.  Kenma felt his own nose scrunch up at the sight of the group of angels, the yokai had purposefully sat as far away from them as they could.  The hotel had strict rules about violence on hotel grounds, but the angels always believed they were above rules.

Kenma thought there might be violence in the salon as the haughty angel that everyone knew as Oikawa Tooru turned with a sneer planted on his too beautiful face.  He looked up at the man wearing the same uniform as all the hotel staff, fitted black trousers, shiny black shoes, an orange vest over a black button down shirt.  The staff was blind, the white wrap around his eyes making that clear to anyone.  Despite his silver hair, the rest of his body pointed to him being only in his thirties.

As with everything else, there were different kinds of angels.  The ones occupying the salon were guardians, basically warrior angels who killed first and asked questions later.  They were keeping human-like appearance now because their angelic forms tended to melt the skin off of people's faces.  There were four of them in the salon, which meant they could easily decimate the hotel with little to no effort put into it.

“Suga!”  Tooru’s face slipped into a beaming smile, hand reaching out to catch the staffs hand but he moved at the last moment, making way for another guest to walk behind him.

“Sir Oikawa, how are you this day?  Or is it night now?”  That staffer, Suga, asked with a singular sweet smile that had all four of the angels leaning towards him as if he were the angelic creature and not them.

“Your drinks.”  Yamaguchi returned, placing the drinks on the low table and only managed to spill a few drops of a couple.  Kenma then heard a familiar voice and his head snapped up, looking in the direction of the salon doors.

Hinata Shouyou hadn’t changed much.  Sometimes Kenma was surprised how different humans grew up.  Shouyou looked like he would always be on the shorter side, though he was now only slightly smaller than Kenma but had filled out without looking too bulky for his slight frame.  His orange hair was as wild as ever, though it was kept a little shorter and it looked like he at least learned to run a comb through it.  His eyes were still wide, his smile even wider.  He certainly didn’t look like someone who would raise a hoard of zombies.

“Shouyou.”  Kenma found himself calling out, hand raising halfway.  Shouyou zeroed in on him, head tilting before a blinding smile lit up his face and he was running over, nearly knocking right into Yamaguchi who held out a quick hand to catch him.

“Thanks ‘dashi!”  Shouyou said quickly.  “Kenma I almost didn’t recognize you.”  Shouyou motioned to his hood, which Kenma pushed back a little.

“Ah, so you’re the acting owner.”  Tetsurou said, a world of knowledge put into that simple sentence.  Shouyou looked over at Tetsurou, shifting slightly.  The younger Shouyou that Kenma remembered would have shrunken back and hidden behind someone's legs at Tetsurou’s predatory smirk, but this older version only paused for a moment before his smile came back.  Not as blinding as before and a little hesitant, but professional all the same while not backing down.

“Yes, I’m sorry that was rude of me.  My name is Hinata Shouyou, I hope you enjoy your stay with us.  If there’s anything you need please don’t be afraid to ask.”  Shouyou glanced at Kenma at the end of that sentence, his smile becoming a little warmer around the edges.  It was the wrong thing to say to a bunch of tricky yokai though.

“Actually there is one thing.”  Tetsurou practically purred but then his mouth fell open as a man appeared from behind Shouyou, hand coming out to rest on Shouyou’s shoulder.  Shouyou looked up in surprise before another bright smile crossed his face.

“Hello Sawamura!”  Shouyou greeted the older man cheerfully.  He was the worker they had seen in the hall who had disappeared, the one Tetsurou had nearly torn the hall apart looking for.

“Please don’t forget to circulate the room, many of the guests have come here specifically to talk to you.”  The one called Sawamura said, his voice deep and low, soothing even to Kenma who didn’t feel relaxed in the presence of strangers.  Shouyou shot Kenma a sad look before straightening up and nodding.

“Of course, thank you Sawamura.”  He bowed quickly before circulating around the room.  Tetsurou’s eyes stayed on Sawamura, the rest of the yokai at the table stayed silent as they watched the interaction with rapt attention.  That was cat yokai, lazy but they loved gossip.

Sawamura turned before pulling something out that he was hiding behind his back.  He placed a saucer with milk on it in front of Tetsurou before giving him a smile that was more a baring of teeth than anything else.  From his bent over angle Kenma could see a line that wrapped around the entire length of Sawamura’s thick neck, held together by stitches.

They all eyed the saucer of milk and then Sawamura’s less than friendly smile.  Kenma tried to see the deep hunger and hatred that had burned so brightly in the first zombie he had met, but though anger had harshened the lines of Sawamura’s face his brown orbs revealed nothing more.  Sawamura straightened.

“For you.”  Sawamura said to Tetsurou.  They all looked down at the milk as it began to smoke and then curdle, twisting in on itself as if it was alive and letting out violent bouts of hisses.  Kenma looked at his oldest friend and watched as a slow smirk overtook his features, a mischievous look of pure joy that only spelled trouble.  Sawamura turned on his heel and strode away but Tetsurou was already up and striding after him.

“He’s going to get us kicked out, isn’t he?”  Morisuke asked no one in particular.  “I thought he stayed away from humans?”  From everything Kenma knew, he thought the same way.  Tetsurou thought very little of humankind in general but it hadn’t been a predator sighting his prey when Tetsurou looked at Sawamura, more like a kitten finding a playmate.

“Hey hey hey!”  Kenma flinched at that loud greeting as Tetsurou was cut off from chasing after Sawamura.

“Escape before he notices you, we’ll cover.”  Nobuyuki whispered to Kenma, who gave a short nod and let his magic fold over himself.  Kenma had many forms but his preferred one was the shape of a smallish calico colored cat.  He slipped underneath the sofa and out of the salon all together, escaping out a patio door into the cool night air.

“I don’t like the way that cat was looking at Daichi!”  Kenma laid flat on his stomach underneath a bush, peering out into the darkness to see the blind, silver haired man talking to a taller bald man.

“Perhaps you should help out Asahi in the kitchen.”  It was phrased like a suggestion but Kenma heard the underlying order in it.  The bald man deflated, head bowing and Suga rubbed the top with a smile.  “Daichi is more than capable of handling himself, he could have avoided the yokai if he had wanted to but he purposefully antagonized him.”  Suga’s head tilted to the side before his head turned towards Kenma.  It should have been impossible for the man to know Kenma was there at all, Kenma sensed no magic from him but yet he felt as if Suga knew.

“Suga?”  The bald headed man asked hesitantly.

“Go help Asahi, the owls showed up without reservations so I’m sure Yachi is panicking.  I’m going to go see if I can smooth things over for her.”  They split ways, Suga using the long cane to feel his way but he stopped in front of the bush Kenma was hidden under.  “Hinata likes to sit in the middle of the rose maze after he talks to everyone in the salon.”  Then Suga continued on, trailing behind the sweet smell of death behind him.

Kenma trotted on light paws to the rose maze.  It had been where he had met Shouyou for the first time.  The boy had gotten lost and he had been on the verge of tears when Kenma rubbed up against his legs, in his cat form of course.

It was easy for Kenma to find the middle of the maze.  It was beautifully kept as always, the ground soft beneath him and the smell of roses curling nicely around him as he hopped up onto one of the stone benches that surrounded the marble fountain.  During the day the carved figurine was of a beautiful woman with a flowing dress.  Under the stairs and moon and shifted into a heavily cloaked figure with a curved scimitar that a large crow that looked ready to burst into flight stood on.

Kenma dozed lightly, picking up the sound of footsteps well before they came near him.  They were heavier than he remembered but there was also a skipping quality about them that was all too familiar.  He turned to face Shouyou, who was greeting the fountain as if it were an alive thing before his head turned and he caught sight of Kenma.

“Kenma!”  Shouyou sat next to Kenma on the bench, close but not encroaching on Kenma’s space.  Kenma butted his head against Shouyou’s hand, allowing the other to pet him.  “It’s been so long since I saw you.”  It had seemed recent to Kenma, but time passed by differently for yokai.

“I suppose it has.”  Kenma admitted.  “Shouyou, can I ask about your staff?”  Shouyou’s hand stilled in Kenma’s fur and he thought for a moment his old friend would deny him.

“There’s a pamphlet in each room that explains it, but it’s really just the basics.”  Shouyou stretched out his legs.  He wore the same uniform as the rest of the staff though he had a black jacket over his shirt and vest.  “Some panic when they realize what the staff is but they don’t need to.  I don’t like the term zombie, but I guess that’s what they are?”

“They are yours?”  Kenma had an inkling that he was right about this and Shouyou’s nod only confirmed that.  “Perhaps starting from the beginning would help.”  Shouyou frowned, not in an upset way but in a way that showed he was thinking before he nodded.

“Okay, so it actually happened a couple years after I had met you…”

Shouyou curled up behind the crypt, trying to keep his sobbing silent because he could still hear the other teenagers running around looking for him.  His arm throbbed where he had been cut, he could feel the thick and warm blood soaking into his sweater and trailing down his face.  The first time they had hit him he had been shocked but it had only gotten worse as the year dragged on.

Shouyou was a necromancer and his parents had warned him that his powers would make others uncomfortable.  He had always whined what powers.  He couldn’t make things float with his mind, he couldn’t breath fire or command the wind, he couldn’t shapeshift or blink from one place to another.  He could raise the dead but that took years of intense studying, rare ingredients, and the perfect conditions.  Plus Shouyou had no interest in keeping a creature that had once been a human but now was a mindless thing that only wanted to hurt and bleed others.

The Hinata’s had warned their enthusiastic son, tried to convince him to continue his education at home.  But Shouyou was convinced he could make friends.  He might have a cool power but he was friendly and he liked meeting new people.

The kids at Shouyou’s new school didn’t care about any of that.  His parents had told him that people would be afraid of him but his peers only seemed to hate him.  At first it was just excluding him from everything, then it evolved into teasing and name calling, and a month ago it escalated into someone shoving him down onto the ground.  His palms had scraped against the hard ground but he was still convinced he could change their minds.  Then the torture really started and only seemed to get worse everyday.

They had never made him bleed that much but it seemed to cause a frenzy in them.  They wanted Shouyou gone and they weren’t afraid that everyone knew it.  After all, humans were so easily hurt.  Shouyou had even heard them making plans about how Shouyou had ended up dead.

There were a lot of unmarked graves in that cemetery, Shouyou could feel them all around him.  He heard them coming closer and he crawled on his hands and knees away, knowing he was leaving a trail of blood and tears in his wake but not knowing what else to do.

Shouyou wished for one friend, just a single friend who was bigger and stronger than them.  Someone who was faster than everyone else, who wouldn’t cringe away from their harsh words.  Someone who understood what he was going through, who didn’t care that he wasn’t that powerful or smart, that would make him better.

Shouyou continued to crawl away, changing his mind.  He wanted someone mean looking who would scare them away but would care about him, who would take care of him.

Someone every respected- no, feared.

Someone big and terrifying, but kind.

No, forget kindness, he wanted someone who was as nasty as his peers, who would sneer and snicker and snap out harsh words that would make them run home crying.

Gods, Shouyou just wanted a single friend, he didn’t care if they were as small and easily nervous like he was.

“I found him!”  Someone shouted and Shouyou tried to push to his feet and run away but he only managed to slam into another body who shoved him back.  Shouyou curled into a ball, trying to protect his head but a clawed hand grabbed his already injured arm, yanking him back and causing him to cry out in pain.

Please please please, someone help.  Anyone!  Please!

Something was building up inside of Shouyou as he was pushed and name called, cursed at and spat on.  Someone kicked him and his fingers curled into the soft earth.

Natsu, his younger sister, and he always came out to the cemetery and played a game they thought was fun.  They would sit on top of a grave, fingers pressed into the dirt and tell the other everything they could about the corpse beneath.  The older they got, the more details they gained.  The cause of death was always easy.  Names and personalities, when and where they grew up took concentration.

Shouyou’s fingers pressed into the dirt, his blood mixing in it with.  It shifted beneath him and suddenly fingers were curling around his and his classmates were stumbling back, shouting in alarm as the ground fell beneath them.

An arm broke from the ground, pulling itself up until a head was eye level with Shouyou’s.  Blank, glassy eyes stared into Shouyou’s before slowly regaining their color.  The body of a teen probably around Shouyou’s own age pulled itself free of the ground, stumbling to his knees and let out a groaning moan that tore through the night, answered moans coming from around them as more hands popped from the dirt like demented daisies.

“He summoned zombies!”  One of his classmates shouted, horrified.

“He’s going to kill us all!”  Another yelled.  They pulled at each other, trampling each other to get away.  Some fell into the graves, screaming and screaming as more undead crawled onto the earth.

Shouyou couldn’t move, couldn’t scream or do anything but stare in wide-eyed terror.  He couldn’t have done this.  It wasn’t possible!  The ritual to raise the undead was extensive.  It required things like a handmade pewter jar, spelled to keep blood ever-fresh and filled to the brim of the necromancers own blood.  It needed a full blood moon, a freshly unburied body that could only be a day old at the most, twelve flight feathers given freely from twelve different crows, and more things than Shouyou knew about.

The zombie who still had a hold of Shouyou’s hand let other another long groan but this one sounded like something more.  They did it again and it almost sounded like a word.

“Dumbass.”  The zombie said slowly, stiff jaw working hard at the word.  Shouyou eyes went wide and he promptly passed out.

“He called you what?”  Kenma asked in surprise, now back to his more human seeming form as he sat beside Shouyou.  Shouyou’s legs were crossed on the bench, facing Kenma as he let out an angry sound to the heavens.

“Dumbass!”  Shouyou shouted before quickly looking around as if someone was going to scold him.  He then sighed and rolled the tension out of his shoulders.  “That’s Kageyama, he was the first one I technically awoke, that’s what I call it because it’s not really what other necromancers do?  But I woke up and they were all around me, looking a lot more dead than they do now mind you.  Sawamura’s head wasn’t even on.”  Shouyou looked nauseous at that thought.

“And now they work here?”  Kenma asked in confusion.  He thought of asking the names of the classmates who had tortured Shouyou so badly that latent and primal powers had gathered inside him, releasing into the ground to pull up dead creatures to protect him.  Kenma had never killed anyone before, but he knew many others who weren’t so opposed to the idea.

“Not at first.”  Shouyou rubbed his bright hair.  “There was a lot of screaming, from me mostly.  But Suga got me to calm down enough to explain what happened.  I tried to put them back, I did but since I didn’t know how I awoke them in the first place, I certainly had no idea how to un-awoke them.  So I snuck them into the hotel but Natsu soon found out.  She was still little at the time and she promised not to say anything but when our mom asked where she had been all day she said she had been playing with the zombies in the dungeon.”

“Your parents probably handled that well.”  Kenma smiled at that thought.

“Mom cried and dad considered burning the whole place down and moving to Alaska.”  Shouyou admitted with a rueful smile.  “But they weren’t like other zombies, they can talk and move about by themselves.  They don’t crave human flesh, or flesh of any kind.  They remember who they were when they were alive too.  When my parents calmed down they helped but them all back together, we had to get some spare parts for a few of them but they look pretty good now, right?”

“I didn’t know what they were until I was close and then I could smell it.”  Kenma admitted.  “Your parents couldn’t put them back?”

“Other necromancers can’t undo another’s work.”  Shouyou looked down at his hands.  “Mom said the only way to get rid of a zombie is to destroy it completely but after knowing them none of us could do that.”  Kenma knew what it was like to get attached to those around you, he had formed the same attachments with his clan.

“I’m sorry that you were treated so badly.”  Kenma said but Shouyou grinned in response.

“I’m not.”  Shouyou shrugged at Kenma’s disbelieve.  “If they hadn’t done what they did to me then I wouldn’t have my friends, my extended family.  Anyways after they got done wetting themselves in terror they never bothered me again plus Sawamura went and had a talk with them and he’s terrifying when he wants to be.”  Kenma thought of the man who had brought the poisoned milk to a yokai talked about in hushed, fear filled whispers.

“And they are okay with all of this?”  Kenma motioned to the hotel behind them.  Most creatures did not appreciate being bonded into a life of servitude.

“Yeah!  They aren’t slaves Kenma.”  Shouyou said with clear disgust.  “They pick what they want to do, they get paid for it too.  The ones who have died recently can’t travel around here but they can go outside of Japan if they wanted to.  Dad said none of them mind being brought back because they all died really young.  Sawamura’s the oldest but he was killed before he was even 35.”  Kenma’s memory flashed to the stitched line across Sawamura’s throat.

“That’s-” Kenma looked over at Shouyou, who looked anxious as he fidgeted in his seat.  “Amazing, Shouyou.  Not that they all died young but the fact that you raised them and even managed to keep their personalities and memories intact.”  Kenma was over three hundred years old and he had never heard of such a thing.  Shouyou beamed at Kenma.

“I’m so glad you came.”  Shouyou admitted honestly, without a hint of deception.  Kenma smiled back and ducked his head.

“Me too.”  Kenma agreed easily.  He mostly didn’t like noisy and crowded places filled with easily excitable people but he thought it might be interesting, staying here at the hotel with the likes of Shouyou and his crew of zombies.

[crimson-phantom-designs]

NEW BEGENNINGS

Part 1 of a small one shot I did a few months ago.

"Jesus kid, I almost blew your head off! I thought you were a ghoul...."

Hancock paused a good thirty seconds staring at him as he had just stepped outside the brush, knapsack in tow. "You're serious?...." The corners of Hancock's mouth twitched into a smirk. "What good of a detective are you if I gotta point that out?"

"A... feral one, John. Christ, son get over here and behave for once- and what is that in your hand?"

"A guitar, Sherlock. Shit I gotta point everything to you or what?" Hancock held the dirty, blood stained instrument up proudly. "To the living deserve the spoils. I hadn't played one on years."

"You didn't kill somebody for that thing did you?" Nick interrogated flatly.

"Nah nah... bruiser was already dead. Like awhile. So lucky me, eh?" He chuckled.

"Just sit down." Nick dismissed him like talking to a child.

Hancock waved him off as he dropped his satchel at Nick's feet to walk off and stand outside the fire's edge as Nick searched the spoils the ghoul was sucessful scavenging, something useful he hoped, through the nearby houses. If they could be called that anymore.

Being in Commonwelth made Nick often wonder what things looked like before the war...

Hancock's loot was some rusty knives, cables, a coffee pot, a few bottles of beer and an ash tray. Most notably was the one, scrawny small molerat.

Nick grimaced at the foul thing as he held it up for inspection. It was moments like this he was grateful he didn't have a stomach but he promised to feed the one who did if he managed something...

Nick skinned the rat with one of his razors and chopped up what he could before dropping it in the pot with a few carrots he picked and set it over the fire.

He saw Hancock rustling in his coat as he leaned against an old light post looking over the fields they just cleared of feral ghouls. It wasn't often Nick left his town or his office for that matter but these little missions helped him stay sharp and this pack had been growing from what he heard to a point it even had Hancock nervous for his own town and request his help dealing with them. Not to mention drifters or traders using the roads that were getting picked off.

Nick wondered how Hancock took it killing ghouls. If he thought about them at all like himself, he didn't seem to care though he had his reasons. Sure they were wild creatures that seen even Hancock as a meal but they looked so much like him and were treated just about the same as he was and his band of misfits from Goodneighbor. John always related to the ghouls though, he made himself one willingly to escape the tyranny of his social family.

He had been through so much, the drugs had morphed him into another being entirely... When the burned ravaged man in a red coat approached him a year after he left he didn't even realize it was the same blonde haired, browned eyed scrawny boy of the McDonoughs and almost turned him away. It was his voice and how he carried himself that triggered the realization. It made Nick wonder as he watched the man from his perferial view.

Speaking of, Hancock's family was the reason Nick was here. He had tried talking to John before but setting out together to clear out the threat perhaps the information was fresh on his mind. He seemed lost in thought at the moment.

Richard was sick for awhile and the doctors were running out of options. It seemed the entire McDonough family wasn't exactly stable perhaps genetics. Martha their mother died a year ago from heart failure who John was very attached to, and before that Patrick the father and well... That was another story entirely. What drove a devide between the brothers - violently- and perhaps John still held onto that guilt. Patrick might still be alive if he hadn't run into those ghouls searching for John that night afterall.... Guy never let John forget it though Nick doubt he ever would and soon after was when chased out all ghouls as soon as he was elected mayor and John left for good.

The brothers were the last of their family and soon just John not that John seem to mind anymore.....

It was then when he heard the familiar puff intake he busted more people than he cared to admit from the ghoul as he descretly huffed the canister with his back to him. Nick's head shot up with a burning yellow glare made worse from the fire's reflection.

"You sure that's a good idea? Didn't that stuff nearly kill yah?" Nick spoke just over a scolding.

"What?..... No....." Hancock chuckled, shuffling innocently. As he was caught already he gave that up and went ahead and puffed the chem again with a shiver as things electrified about him in vibrant psychedelics and he staggered to his little nest of blankets and coats under the makeshift tarp he made. Shaking the empty canister with a frown he tossed it on the ground. Oh well, he had more and was probably going to need it.

Nick raised a sceptical brow. "Tells me you're lying."

Hancock laughed his eyes wide as it looked like two of Nick for a moment. Aside it being a trip how horrifying could that be he was a synth so it was actually possible. Oh god. He hoped he remembered that later. "The experimental shit... yeah maybe." He chuckled again as he slouched back numbly. "My skin fell off and grew back all fucked up, my hair fell out. The hair didn't grow back but eh whatever, oh the high though... it was so worth it. I felt like I was soaring with the strength of ten men.

"Uh huh..." Nick only appraised with a scowl. "Before or after you woke up vomiting blood and your heart stopped beating having to be jerked back to life by an addictol shot to the chest?"

"Ehhhhh heh before.... but my point is Jet nah Jet it's cool, is like..... the best girlfriend I've ever had." He said fondly with a loop sided smile. "She's always made me feel better and she was always available. So why say goodbye?"

"Even the best girlfriend will fuck you up eventually, you know?"

Hancock chuckled looking down at the empty jet cartiage feeling the chem start to wear off sadly. "The straight ones maybe...." Hancock barely remarked before shrugging it away as Nick glared at him. His expression slacked as he glared back before sitting down as he muttered quietly. "It helps me cope... besides there's medicine that will prevent me turning... anymore. Ferinhiet gets it for me and she's around if things go south."

"You're always full of jokes.... You stop doing the damn chems and you got nothing to worry about unless that's not weighing on your conscious."

Hancock groaned, rubbing his head. Yep the drugs had worn off. "You know, I always miss you until you're here."

"Because I care about you not overdosing and throw responsiblity in your face? That's cute. I came with you because I felt like we could talk..."

"No."

"John, hear me out."

"Not if it's about my brother." Hancock snipped sitting down and pulling the guitar in his lap. "And it's Hancock... stop calling me John. I'm not who I used to be for a reason..."

Nick sighed roughly not realizing he was holding it in. "John, come on. Talk to me. Get out of your pity bubble and be serious for a second."

"Hey, remember when you were chewing my ass out about shooting up? Gee, that was fun." Hancock snipped with a sarcastic smirk.

"I'm serious.... Your brother is really sick and you're not gonna go see him? That's not normal..."

"You're right, I'm not normal." Hancock gasped dramatically lifting a hand to his mouth. "Wait... did you not know we weren't normal!? My bad, shit I should have told you. I'm a ghoul and a drug addict, you're a condescending robot while my brothers a racist fuckhole who hates all those things. Shit, you must be very confused right now."

Nick scowled. "Look, stop grandstanding you egotistical shit... I get why you're holding on to this but enoughs enough. Look at you, you're living your life the way you want it. You don't have to keep fighting the world. I mean, isn't forgiving him easier than not?"

"Oh, Christ. Are you fucking serious right now with this shit right now?" Hancock huffed getting up to pace before sitting back down and figiting. He snatched the guitar picking at it as his scowl softened.

Still feeling the burn of those electric eyes on him he sighed. Softening slightly as his walls of defense broke down showing who he really was yet still he fought to maintain a stern face as he barely looked up to him.

"Sometimes what it looks like is all anybody can see..."