#do people over there already sell them separately by any chance

[kimtaegis]

can someone get me the juicy pink lips target exclusive pc 😔

[sytokun]

To anyone thinking or saying Dillon Goo is unworthy of acquiring RWBY, not because of anything realistic like finances or the size of his studio, but because he's "just an animator", or just a rando from the internet who cannot write or run RWBY:

Thanks for perpetuating the piece of shit mindset that every soul-sucking corporation and braindead consumer has: that animators have no value or are just there to push buttons and make pixels move for the real creatives.

Animators are artists and creators. They have to work with numerous departments to make things work: They have to know what the writer/director wants, and tell them if it's even possible to put to screen; they have to work with artists and character designers to tell if they can commit that art into moving parts. And for an animated show, they're kind of... I dunno, the entire backbone of its production.

Anyone stupid enough to claim that, by their logic, should claim that Miles and Kerry were "just writers" and don't have the right nor the intelligence to have any opinions on RWBY's animation, character designs or music. That's how I know you have zero fucking idea how any actual media is produced, because in your head, these positions all just exist as separate little boxes in your brain so it's simple enough for you to grasp.

It was "just an animator" who made RWBY in the first place, dumbass. A "rando" making animations on the internet that Rooster Teeth took a chance on, and now he's responsible for their best-selling IP. By comparison, Dillon is starting at a way better starting position than Monty was, with a successful YouTube channel, public support from multiple current and ex-CRWBY like J Grelle (Tyrian's VA), Kim Newman (former animator who animated Sun's gunchucks in V5) and Jessica Nigri (Cinder's VA), and multiple collaborations with big companies like Hoyoverse.

If anything, I'd expect an animator like Dillon to know and care enough about his staff to not give them near-irreparable spinal damage. Gee, I wonder why Newman would think he'd be a better employer to work with? Dillon would know how an animation project is run and budgeted. Him being an animator is a benefit, for god's sake.

Monty had character design sketches but needed help from professional artists to fully design them. He knew bits of the plot but needed help fleshing it out. Do you have enough brain cells to rub together to know that's precisely what Dillon can do, too? Fuckin', I dunno, hire people? For his studio??

I'd rather have an animator run RWBY because RWBY is an animated series and he would know precisely 1) what complements the medium best and 2) the precise limits of what can or cannot work within his budget. By your ass-backwards logic, I would rather get EC Myers to run RWBY's production over Dillon just because he's a writer and has been employed with RT longer.

That's another moronic argument: "He's only been employed by RT for 1 Volume". Man, I don't care if he's been there for zero Volumes, his work clearly shows a greater understanding of RWBY's aesthetic, mainstream appeal and style than its own showrunners have for the past 7 years. Or is seniority in a defunct company responsible for a steadily unprofitable IP suddenly a positive in this business deal?

I need you to be aware that RWBY as an IP is a joke outside of the bubble of its fandom, and I am telling you bluntly as a fan. Nobody takes it seriously and the ones that do only praise it for either its action choreography or its character designs, one of which is guaranteed with Dillon's studio. Diehard fans may love RWBY, warts and all, but all that love and support clearly wasn't enough to keep it alive, because its reputation was already cemented from its own mismanagement.

What you do is you get the right person for the job. And Dillon ticks a lot of boxes for it. If you think he's unable to acquire RWBY because he's not a big corpo or cannot meet Warner's asking price, that's 100% fair. If you think he's unable to create something on the scale of Volume 9, that's also 100% fair, but only if you're attached to the idea that you'd rather have Volume 10 or more of the same RWBY that was operating at a loss than any RWBY at all. Or if you'd rather see a season of 14 episodes 15 minutes long where 60-70% of it is made up of exposition, talking head scenes and increasingly overambitious world expanding, over shorter episodes with amazing RWBY action sequences with a story that never bites off more than it can chew.

But if you think Dillon is unqualified or worse, unworthy or undeserving (what a weirdo thing to say about a person, like owning RWBY is like inheriting the fucking throne of Gondor), all because he's "just an animator" or because he was smart enough to see RT for the meat-grinder hellhole it was and left to find success on his own, you're full of shit.

And if you disapprove of him because of his association with Shane, go find a restroom because your unsightly hateboner is showing. It's been almost ten years since the letter and you all have been holding this unfettered rage clenched between your buttcheeks longer than Shane's ever been with Rooster Teeth.

And for what? Pointing out Rooster Teeth is a fucked place to work at? Whoops, that was true and now it's six feet under for every scandal and worker abuse case they brought on themselves. For stealing and cannibalising their creators' IPs? Whoops, that's fucking true as well.

[astroprompts]

✧ —𝐁𝐎𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 [𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝟏]

“Why so gloomy, roomie?”

“I've had tapeworms that were less parasitic.”

“If you're looking for the toaster strudels, I got really high last night and ate them all.”

“I don't know how you can expect anyone else to love you when you so clearly hate yourself.”

“I pride myself on my ability to separate my professional life from my personal life.”

“I really gotta start putting my phone on airplane mode when I drink.”

“Sorry I haven't really been mingling. I get kind of awkward at parties.”

“I'm responsible for my own happiness? I can't even be responsible for my own breakfast!”

“Don't put things in my butt if you want them back.”

“Well, that was another in a long series of regrettable life choices.”

“Well, that went slightly better than the worst it could have possibly gone, so... Hooray?”

“Just like always, you're right, and everyone else is wrong. But if you don't swallow your pride, this is never gonna let up.”

“I'm not stubborn. I'm proud.”

“Is this a necessary conversation to be having right now?”

“You know what the problem is with everybody? They all just want to hear what they already believe. No one ever wants to hear the truth.”

“I want to hear the truth. I don't know if you want to tell it, though.”

“Your family will never understand you. Your lovers will leave you or try to change you. But your fans, you be good to them, and they'll be good to you.”

“No matter what happens, no matter how much it hurts, you don't stop dancing, and you don't stop smiling, and you give those people what they want.”

“People don't usually want to hang out with me after rehab. I'm really more of a before-rehab friend.”

“Morning, sleepy-pooh, you want pancakes?”

“The guest room is yours as long as you want.”

“Ahab's got a white whale to catch, baby!”

“You're not this girl's father, and you're not doing her any favors by refusing to set boundaries.”

“I get letters every day from boys telling me that I was the first girl they masturbated to.”

“You're not my dad. You're just a rugged, older man who provided me with a strong, masculine presence during my formative years.”

“I'm at a place right now where I never need to grow as a person or rise to an occasion, because I can constantly just surround myself with sycophants and enablers until I die tragically young.”

“I'm pumping out heartfelt anecdotes and witty observations left and right.”

“I really want to be here for you in your time of need, but I'm not really good with funerals or death or families or feelings or people.”

“My family made my life miserable, and then they never forgave me for leaving.”

“Well, he was a mean, sadistic alcoholic, who never supported anything I did and actively delighted in seeing me fail.”

“I'm just saying, if you can't find a way to let off some steam you're going to explode.”

“I should've known it was a waste of time to come back here.”

“Look, take it from someone with his own shitty parents; family is a sinkhole, and you were right to get out when you had the chance.”

“The stupid thing is, even now I still just want them to be proud of me and think I did good.”

“Closure is a made up thing by Steven Spielberg to sell movie tickets.”

“This is the sweetest choking hazard anyone's ever given me.”

“This has been fun, and also an offensive display of extravagant wealth, but maybe we should call it a night.”

“Give me a bottle of something to help me forget my problems.”

“I like being around you, and I don't know if I ever told you that in so many words, so I'm telling you.”

“You are a goddamn American treasure, you know that?”

“Am I just hungover, or are you talking like a Muppet?”

“You're the one who's always been there for me, so I drank a lot more bourbon and drove over to tell you how I feel.”

“Every time something bad happens, you come running to me for comfort.”

“We're just two lonely people trying to hate ourselves a little less.”

“You know the worst part? I knew this was gonna happen and I let myself get excited anyway.”

“Uh-oh. People only say they're fine when they're not fine.”

“I spy with my little eye someone who needs to shut the hell up.”

“Here. I got you a beer. It's on the house.”

“Did you think that I spent the last 20 years on my couch just feeling sorry for myself?”

“I think I need to head off to bed, and I hope I actually wake up later.”

“You have to live with the shitty thing you did for the rest of your life. You have to know that it's never, ever going to be okay.”

“You know what your problem is? You want to think of yourself as the good guy. Well, I know you better than anyone, and I can tell you that you're not.”

“You'd probably sleep a lot better at night if you just admitted to yourself that you're a selfish goddamn coward who takes whatever he wants and doesn't give a shit about who he hurts.”

“So... Should we talk about how you just tried to kiss me?”

“I'm not going to waste another thought on you.”

“Bad news-- I lost my driver's license.”

“Can you... Drive me everywhere I need to go for the next three months?”

“You know, with my knack for coming up with plans and your ability to hear them without contributing more than three words at a time, we make a pretty good team, don't we?”

“I was just trying to be a good friend in my own shitty, ass-backwards way.”

“You know, sometimes I feel like I was born with a leak, and any goodness I started with just slowly spilled out of me, and now it's all gone.”

“Why is it that 90% of our conversations these days revolve around plotting sabotages?”

“Look, all publicity is good publicity.”

“I need to go take a shower so I can't tell if I'm crying or not.”

“Maybe I just need to stop expecting you to be a good person, so that way, I won't get hurt when you're not.”

“You abandoned me, and I will never forgive you for that.”

“Unbelievable. When your powers combine... You are somehow even more stupid than the sum of your stupids.”

“They see a greatness in me, and they mistake it for goodness, but I... I know there's nothing there.”

“Look, if you really want to help people, it doesn't hurt to have a little money in your pocket.”

“I kind of think all you are is just the things that you do.”

[dubiousduskwight]

Day 7: Morsel

Watching well water cool on ice shards wasn’t Rin’s idea of a productive day, but doing it for the past week had at least let him finish his piece work at the same time. Weaving baskets together out of well-prepared reed felt good for him, even before he received his payment upon delivery at Namai. Letting water cool was just...observing. It didn’t take anything but time. And when it was all ready and put to use – that was just stupid, no matter how much coin he was getting.

“It’s taking longer,” grumbled Isao, who had no other use of his time. That was fine in most cases – even the tiniest of hamlets like theirs needed a layabout to make everyone else feel better about not being that person – but he’d taken to the request too eagerly, and all week he’d been troubling others with his enthusiasm. “I think the shards are running out of charge."

“It’s crystal, it doesn’t work like that,” said Rin, who didn’t know any better himself. “Get more from Kimora when she stops by today if you’re so concerned.”

“What, and lose some of the coin? No, thank you.” Scowling, Isao dipped his finger into the bucket to check, and brought it away quickly. “Seems good. Let’s haul it.”

“Come on, this basket’s almost done.” “He’s already waiting. We don’t want him to fall asleep out there. You remember the last time.” Isao was already hooking one of the buckets to his carrying pole, ending the argument by action. Rin couldn’t recall another time when Isao had done this of his own free will without at least some scolding by his mother.

“I remember,” he said, and with an exasperated and silent plea to the kami, put down his half-finished basket and reached for his carrying pole.

Their hamlet was in one of the taller mountains of Yanxia, where the earth had seen fit to lay enough flat ground and decent soil for a couple dozen people to make their living farming roots and hunting the local game further down in the hills. Apart from getting what they needed from Namai on infrequent downward trips or peddlers willing to make the climb, the concerns of Doma and the Empire hadn’t mattered much to them. They knew a rebellion had failed because of a hungry year and little to buy or sell at Namai, and had preferred to stay up in the mountains where airships and soldiers wouldn’t bother them. It had mostly worked, and once the king was back in place they had gotten on with things as they always did.

The climb up the hamlet, further along the mountain’s side, wasn’t an easy one, but the pair were used to steep terrain and careful movements. There was a path, of course, but a stray root might cause the unprepared to lose their footing. Rin and Isao took their movements slowly, each carrying two buckets of water hooked to the poles on their shoulders. In these circumstances, even Isao wasn’t concerned with making haste.

“Oiiii! Wait up a moment!” Rin stopped in his tracks and chanced a glance over his shoulder to see a rattling backpack filled with necessities and so large that he never failed to marvel that its owner could carry it. Then again, she too had wondered how they managed to live so high.

“Good to see you!” Isao waved back cheerfully. He stopped in his tracks, stopping Rin as well since he’d taken the front, and let her catch up. “What’s up? The old man’s back in the square if that’s who you’re seeking.” “No,” said Komori, bending forward to catch her breath. “No, it’s your guest. Asked me to come up to the top and help.”

“What, you too?” Isao drew up his shoulders, trying to raise his chin. “I can’t allow it,” he said. “It’s a ritual. Locals only. You’d anger the kami.”

“He paid me separately to help.”

“Oh, well, come on then, the other buckets are already in place. Do you have any spare ice shards, by the way? I think ours aren’t cooling anymore.”

He certainly had money to throw around, thought Rin to himself as the trio resumed their climb, haggling their way up the mountaintop. In the last week a traveler, some ijin from abroad, had climbed the mountain with Komori’s aid inquiring about their waterfall. The villagers had been very confused, of course, because they hadn’t had a waterfall in generations, only a ritual. Many years back, perhaps before there was a Doma, a great conflict between kami of earth and water had led to the mountain’s rise, with a great pool of water that slowly drained away like a kappa losing its skullcap over the years. But it had been water enough to grow the land and make it fertile enough to keep the people alive, they said, so when it had all drained away the rain was enough to help them. Every year, they thanked the kami for this battle with a small sacrifice.

It was nothing, they had told the ijin, who had said he was looking for unbelievable things. Barely a ritual. But he had been quite excited, and asked if he could make use of it.

“As a participant?” the village elder had asked. But that hadn’t been what the ijin had in mind. Instead, he’d wanted to know if it had to happen only once a year.

The villagers had all agreed that they did it as tradition, to be sure, but it wasn’t as if the kami would be upset for getting even more thanks. And so the traveler had paid them all well, and explained what he wanted them to do. Isao was the only one willing to do it. Everyone agreed this was fine – the plan was ridiculous, but it was the kind of job a layabout wanted – and Rin, to his displeasure, was set to mind him to make sure he did it right.

Now, at the mouth of the dead waterfall, where the grooves where water had once flowed had softened over centuries, a dozen other buckets were already in place, still cold from a shard-based cooling in the higher elevation. Setting down their carrying poles and unhooking their buckets, Rin and Isao put them in place with the rest while Komori peered over the edge. “She really must be one of us,” muttered Rin. “Where’s the fear of heights?”

“That’s peddlers for you,” said Isao. “Anywhere for a sale. Is he looking all right down there?” Komori gave a thumbs-up without looking away from the edge.

“Just sitting there. Does he even know the right pose for that? It looks like he doesn’t.” “He doesn’t, just humor him.” Rin had already seen the ijin pose this way, as if he had heard of the meditative positions of shugenja but had never actually seen them. “At least it’s not the other one. He’ll fall to his death looking like a teakettle like that.”

Isao signaled to the other two. “Okay, I’ll take the front.” They quickly arranged themselves with Isao holding a bucket near the mouth of the dead waterfall, Rin in the back to grab new ones, and Komori in the middle to pass them forward to Isao. “We don’t need to give him a signal, just start shouting once we do this. All right?” Komori nodded.

“All right.” He held up his first bucket. “Kami thank you for your service!” he shouted, before dumping its contents off the mouth of the old waterfall and onto the ijin. He threw the bucket away and waited for Komori to pass him another. “Kami thank you for your service!” he repeated.

This was in no way the ritual they usually performed to thank the kami. The hamlet wasn’t willing to profane the spirits that led to their founding that way. But it was an appropriate substitute for a traveler who didn’t know any better and was willing to pay. Rin had suspected, in checking on him after the second day of this, that the traveler did in fact know this, and was actually happy that was the case. Either way, Rin expected he was doing exactly what he’d done the last few times: staying in his awkward pose, and making furious gestures with his hands as if they had some hidden meaning until the water ran out. Then they’d go down the path to collect him and dry him out, and do it again the next day.

As the contents of the last bucket were flung over the side, Isao paused, and looked down at the traveler, saying nothing. “Everything all right?” asked Komori. “Yes, yes, I just thought I saw a spark - “ From nowhere, a bolt of lightning nearly shattered the ears of all three as it arced down from a clear sky to strike the foot of the dead waterfall, exactly where the traveler sat. All three looked at each other in mutual and immediate horror. Even if the bolt had missed him somehow, they’d just spent an unreasonable amount of time dousing him in water.

Their flight down the path to the foot of the old fall was frantic and done without caution. Komori stumbled, and Isao had to catch her and apologize for all the goods that would surely spill out of her pack in order to keep moving. They veered to the right, where the path diverged, and a shallower slope led to the foot of the fall.

Stumbling over small, loose trees and pebbles, the three stopped and picked their way across the now damp, slippery rocks leading to the traveler Rin cursed aloud at the sight: somehow, he was alive, though rolling around on the ground in obvious pain. His clothes were scorched, and perhaps the man himself was as well. It was hard to tell given the blue-grey of his skin.

Isao took point and rushed to the man’s side, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Sir, sir!” He tried to shake some sense into the man. “What the hells was that? Are you well? Do you need medicine?” The traveler grinned. Rin had seen that expression on him quite a bit. It had a suspicious quality he couldn’t quite define.

“Oh, just wonderful,” said the traveler. “That worked just as well as it could have.” “Nobody is going to believe me if I tell them about this,” said Komori. The traveler pointed a finger at her.

“Exactly!”

[laf-outloud]

https://www.tumblr.com/laf-outloud/727083591202471936

I would just like to say a few things:

I was honestly taken aback by this, because even if they won‘t believe me, why not share the info anyway? Or at least respond to it? If there is nothing to what I say, then it could be quickly invalidated or? Unless the two know exactly that I'm right and are afraid of when it comes out.

Here's the thing anon, there really ISN'T a way to verify. They would have to specifically know people who work at those cons and neither of them are based in that area so it's less likely they have connects over there (obviously still possible, but not as likely as for US cons). And even then, they would only be able to verify it for themselves and would still not be able to offer proof. Granted only one of those two cares about showing receipts... it still isn't something that "could be quickly invalidated"

And look at the line up of the English cons and tell me that you could not have paid Jared‘s fee to run various duo shots!

Now about this, even IF they are going to two separate cons from the same company there could be a few reasons for that which have nothing to do with them avoiding each other. As @laf-outloud already mentioned - it's a smart business decision to get a little distance between them since they are still so tied together publicly even years after SPN has ended. With the way CE cons run it would be impossible to really get the separation there (and they have been exclusive there forever when it comes to US cons) so their only chance to really do that is overseas cons.

But you also have to think about it fiscally. Yes, the cons may be run by the same umbrella company but I also bet they have allotted money for each con and with other big names, they can't afford both at one individual con without having to cancel other big name guests who are a draw. Another thing is the fans spending. If they get both J2 at one con then to cover to extra costs they would probably have to increase the prices of ops and autos. That limits the number of fans who can afford to purchase tickets for both and some would pick between the two, meaning less income for the con and J2 themselves. By splitting them, the fans of each don't have to choose and can spend money on one J and also other guests. Plus, splitting them up means a bigger draw to each con (since we've seen how quickly they can both sell out cons). If they were together at one then all the draw would be there, with the split there is an added draw to both cons.

If I'm lying, why is Creation now releasing the second convention for 2024 with only Jensen as headliner but not with Jared? It can't be the money, because Creation takes the same amount for the tickets as usual. And schedule difficulties during an official strike ? Hardly.

First, just because he isn't added now, doesn't mean he can't be added later. And yes the strike is effecting work, but they might still have tentative schedules in place based on when they think the strikes might end. They are surely going to get right back to work when the strikes are over so he might have some idea about work schedules going forward.

But there are also rumors (unverifiable of course) about CE cons and that J2 signed on again but for less cons. Hypothetically speaking (because I do NOT know any specifics, this is simply me giving an example) if they each signed on for 6 cons for 2024 but CE wants to run 10 then there are going to be cons that have one and not the other, that's just logistics and doesn't necessarily mean anything. I'm sure if they wanted to do more than what they signed on for, CE would be more than happy to accommodate because J2 is their real money maker, but if they really did sign on for less and that rumor is true, then the CE con landscape is going to change quite a bit in 2024. I personally think that if this rumor is true, we are going to see Jared do the amount he signed on for, and Jensen will do those plus additional CE cons. We've seen he doesn't want to let go of SPN and with the spending the Ackles do (10mil mansion anyone?? That clothes budget....) they can't really give up that income.

You make some great points, anon. Thank you for sharing! It would make sense to split the pair up and draw more SPN fans to multiple cons than to have them all gathered at one con.

I would be really interested if your speculation about the Creation schedule were true, mainly because I'd love to see how different a Jensen-only led Creation con would work vs. a Jared-only led con.

[mercerislandbooks]

50 Years of Island Books: The Staff

This 50 Years of Island Books series is about to reach the grand finale, because November is only a few weeks away and it's almost time to pop the champagne. Since April, I've talked to booksellers and owners from years past, sales reps, and many beloved local authors to paint a picture of what Island Books has meant to the community and how it evolved into the place it is today.

Now, I'm turning my attention to the people who show up hour to hour, in the here and now, to make the store the living, breathing wonderland that it is and will be in 2023 and beyond. On a rainy Monday when the store was closed for cleaning, I pulled them aside for some heart-to-hearts.

So many times we come in and say a quick hi to these friendly booksellers, the face of a familiar place we know and love, but it's rare we think about who they are as people and what they think about as they work. I've known many of them for years and have watched the staff evolve. From my little perch, I can honestly say that they put so much love into what they do, and that our island community wouldn't be the same without them.

Side note: since I already cornered the longest tenured Island Books employee for a separate blog, Cindy only makes a tiny (and fun) appearance via Caitlin in this post. If you want to learn more about Cindy, click here.

To our Island Books booksellers—we love and appreciate all of you. Truly. Now let's get into it.

Miriam: I'm so happy to have a chance to talk to each of you. Let's start with, which book category excites you the most, and why?

Brad: Any day I can turn someone onto the Russians, like Checkhov, Tolstoy, or Dostoevsky, or someone less read, like Pushkin, is a great day. Jorge Luis Borges is a favorite for customers looking for a literary blend of fantasy and science fiction literary. He's Argentinian, and his voice differs from many other classic authors. There are so many large and small presses putting out reprints.

Becca: I'm largely a sci-fi, fantasy, and romance person. I’m not averse to other categories, but the books that I drop everything to read tend to be one of those genres (or fairy-tale retellings). I also love curling up with a good Middle Grade or Young Adult fiction.

Lori Robinson: The genre I get the most energy around right now is romance. I read widely, but I have my favorite places I like to land, although every once in a while something different catches my eye.

Caitlin: I love to sell the books I like to read: short story collections, literary fiction, translated fiction, poetry, some memoirs, and art and ballet history. When I first started at Island Books, a lot of people said, “Oh, short stories don’t sell here.” But I'm happy to say that isn't the case anymore.

Nancy: I like to read literary fiction and good narrative nonfiction, generally science and history.

Lillian: I think people would assume that I read a ton of kids books, but I’m around them so much and read them for work—at least 600 picture books a year (!), so for my own pleasure, I read mostly mystery, romance, and fantasy. 

Miriam: As a group, you have a wide variety of tastes, which is great for customers. Now, tell me about your proudest accomplishments at Island Books.

Brad: I love to draw signs. I’m a part-time illustrator with a cartoony style, maybe because I’m a big graphic novel fan.

Becca: It’s fun to have become a person that customers ask for book recommendations. -- I still feel fairly new (2 years under my belt now), but to have become an integral part of something I love so much is awesome.

Lori Robinson: Mine would be the year we sold over 200 copies of Amy Snow by Tracey Rees in six months because I kept hand selling it. It was the first time I realized the impact a bookseller could have on the success of a book that wasn’t getting all the media attention.

Caitlin: Mine would be proving that our customers do like short stories.

Nancy: I'm proud of the many stories over the years that I could bring home to my family, and tell them how we found the perfect book for a customer’s dying mother or a kid having an issue, things like that. And the funny ones—we used to have a customer who loved to give a certain book to his lady friends. Whenever we saw that title on order, everyone knew he had a successful date! I think he single-handedly kept that book in print. I sure didn’t have those kind of stories when I worked as a web designer.

Miriam: There's no job quite like bookselling, is there? Those are great answers. Can you give an example of when you felt a deep connection with a customer or the community?

Becca: When a kid comes in and says they like fairy tales and you realize that kid is exactly who you were as a small child. Then you give them a pile of books and they buy all of them and you’re like, yes, I’ve found mini-me! Or having someone call back or come in the next time and say, "What you gave me for my grandkid was exactly what I needed and they loved it".

Lori Robinson: I have a certain customer who I remember coming to our door during the pandemic and saying, “Just pick two books out for me, I’ll read anything you want." That trust is challenging. When I don’t know someone, I really want to take care of it and give people good choices. Anytime someone buys a book that I write a blog about, that warms my little heart. And I love when someone comes in and I think, I would never guess you’d read this book, and then they say, “I love this book!” I just love that we all get to like what we like.

Caitlin: One of our customers who loves short stories—having that customer come to me for recommendations is really nice, and an honor because she’s also a big reader, a school librarian, and a mother. I love sharing a common love of certain books with individual customers.

Nancy: Here's my quirky fact - This will be the second 50th anniversary of a bookstore I’ve attended this year. The other one I went to recently was for Red and Black Books, where I used to work with former Island Books bookseller Kay Wilson. I saw her there. Talk about long-time connections.

Lillian: I actually have a really clear one. Earlier this year, a mom came in and said that her queer child felt welcomed and happy to be at the store, and she was so thankful that her child had thought to mention how welcome they felt. I almost started to cry on the spot and it makes me tear up thinking about it. 

Miriam: That's amazing. It's nice to know that your experiences in the store are just as meaningful to you as they are to the customers. I love hearing this good stuff, and I’m also interested in hearing about a challenge you overcame.

Brad: At first I would have said, wrapping, and it’s something I didn’t expect. I had no idea! People on Mercer Island really know how to give gifts. Drawing quickly is also a challenge.

Caitlin: I wish more people would give books I like a try. People will come in and want to read whatever is the bestselling book. What I say is, “What are you in the mood to read?” and then go from there, because not everyone needs to read bestsellers or classics. They’re not in school. Read what you want.

Nancy: There are a lot of books! We like a lot of books, but more and more books come out and we don’t have the space to shelve everything. We can order it, but we can’t stock everything. So every quarter, it’s a huge challenge to say, these are the books we’re going to commit to. 

Lillian: The honest challenge is to stay interested after reading so many books over so many years. What I realize after I go through another season is that the books are different, that’s the great thing about books. Sometimes customers want the same thing over and over, and those things become classics and that’s fine, but for the majority of customers and definitely for me, I have to see what’s different, otherwise, it can get repetitive.

Miriam: Great answers that speak to so many years on the job. Here's another question. How would your colleagues describe you?

Brad: Friendly and kind, I would hope. A good listener.

Becca: Enthusiastic and willing. Laurie says I’m sassy. I'm also the youngest and got sucked into the social media part of things pretty quick, so I get a lot of the, hey, younger generation, technology, things.

Lori Robinson: I know that I’m pretty calm and unflappable when it comes to dealing with whatever you’ve got to deal with.

Caitlin: Oh, ha, here’s a note from Cindy about this question. She said I’m literary and quirky, and a name-dropper. And I was like, “Yeah…I think that’s pretty accurate.”

Nancy: Brilliant, friendly, kind to everyone, no-nonsense. You know. All the good stuff.

Lillian: I’m definitely the squeaky wheel. I guess what they’d say is that I get things done. That’s the thing. I get things done.

Miriam: These answers cracked me up (including the ones that aren't making it to print!). OK, let's do a fantasy question now. What would you do with it if someone gave you one million dollars to improve the book business and/or promote literacy?

Brad: Open more dream bookstores and do them the way I always wanted.

Becca: The industry is already diversifying the characters and cultures in books, and I’d find ways to support that. Everyone deserves to see themselves in what they read.

Lori Robinson: I’d love to do something to fight book bans. Working at the bookstore has opened my eyes to what banning books does, and I appreciate that it’s changed my view on experiencing things rather than being afraid of them.

Caitlin: I’d start with free nationwide healthcare for people earning under a certain amount of money. I grew up in a household filled with books, and I think it’s important for kids to grow up with their own books, and that takes parents earning a living wage. 

Nancy: This is because I’m such a nuts-and-bolts person, but I’d get rid of dust jackets and have everything be paper on board so that we have less damages to deal with. Saves money and they’re annoying.

Lillian: I’d reverse this trend of prices going up because that would make independent bookstores more accessible to people who shop online because it’s cheaper. There are people who can’t afford to shop in independent bookstores, and if you remove that barrier, it would just open up that handpicked-for-you element that can be so special for kids, and adults too.

Miriam: Ah, if only booksellers ran the world. How about this. If I were to work with you in the store for a month, what would I learn about bookstore life that I can’t possibly gather from a brief interview?

Becca: A lot of people don’t know that we get new releases every single Tuesday, or that we get books sent to us a week before they come out so we have them on the actual release day. So many books, all the time.

Caitlin: Customers are pretty savvy. Obviously, there’s that old idea that booksellers and librarians are just sitting around reading all day, but it’s not true, there’s a lot of work. It’s physical work, you’re constantly bending and putting things away.

Nancy: Well I’m sure everyone says, we do not have time to read while we’re working. They also might not know just how much we really know our customers. Sometimes when we’re going through a catalog, we’ll say, “Oh, I know who will like that book.” And we get that book for that particular person in our community. The two big trends in the past years are the normalization of queerness in fiction and nonfiction, so we really have a tiny LGBTQ section, because, there aren’t really any queer novels anymore—they’re mainstream. I love that. The other thing is Tiktok. It’s been crazy for us getting younger women and girls in the store. And we wish Tiktok could work that way for boys too. We now see these backlist authors getting a second wind because of Tiktok and that’s so interesting as a trend. The third thing that everyone is talking about is AI. One of the things that we have on our radar and it’s been coming up in the book world is fake books. We’re seeing them more and more in the travel and cookbook categories. Our job as curators is more important than ever. We’re working with reputable publishers, we’re looking at every book that comes in the store, we’re recommending books. I think with AI, people are becoming even more important. 

Lillian: How much time we spend just putting books away and tidying up and keeping things alphabetized. I can’t tell you how much we hum the alphabet to keep bookshelves in order. And working with me in particular, I’d say that I come across much more serious than I really am. 

Miriam: You all have to be so organized. Let's move on to my final question. What does being part of a small business within a community mean, and how do you play a role in it?

Brad: One of the best things about working at Island Books is how the community supports the store. And it’s not just about books. We’re a hub. About six months after I started, a woman came in and said her car wouldn’t start. Does anyone know how to jump a car? And I said, I can help. She didn’t know me, but she knew I worked at Island Books, so she knew we'd pitch in.

Becca: People are so committed to the small-town vibe here, everyone knowing each other. It’s so cool to see my colleagues interact with all these customers and they know their names and who they are. I also admire the way we work with other small businesses in the community. Everyone is invested in each other.

Lori Robinson: It’s funny for me, because I went to middle school and high school here, and I worked on the south end for longer than I care to admit, but all of that built a lot of relationships for me, the kind where you see people every day. It’s strange to have people to come in who have kids who were four when I met them and are now graduating from college and starting their careers. When I think about being part of a bookstore, I hope that there are some kids and regular customers who have felt like we’ve offered them a safe place and that I’ve personally been a safe person to talk to who they know won’t judge them or what they like to read. It means a lot to people when we remember them. I hope we offer a warm moment and a good experience.

Caitlin: With the exception of Laurie (and Becca, who is moving off-island), none of the staff lives on the island. So I guess we feel we’re representatives of the store and the community and it’s our responsibility to make people feel welcome.

Nancy: I feel like I have really grown with Mercer Island. I don’t live here, but I feel like I’ve really gotten to know this community. I worked for Roger for six years and I’ve worked for Laurie for almost seven, and we see kids grow up, we see people age, we have a lot of customers who have died over the years, and you’re kind of going through life cycles with people. We’ve seen the build up of Mercer Island, the businesses who are all working together now—it didn’t used to be like that. The community feels more like they appreciate their community too. I think our customers really stepped up during Covid and realized, we love this place, and we need it. They’ve been great.

Lillian: As the kids’ specialist, it’s different, because I spend a lot of time chatting with the community kids. I get to watch them grow up. There are people that come in who are going to high school that eight years ago I was recommending chapter books to. So, to have a hand in helping kids become life-long readers, and enhancing how important it is, is great. I always say I’m lucky to not be the teacher or parent because I don’t have to worry about the academics. I worry about, how can I make this kid love books so much that they will be a reader for the rest of their life?

Miriam: Right? That makes so much sense. Thanks, everyone. What a cool crowd. I adore all of you and am so glad you're in my life, and everyone else's!

Next week, for my final installment of 50 Years of Island Books, I'll be talking with the owner, Laurie Raisys, and it'll be a good one. See you soon.

—Miriam

[clutzyqueer]

Hi y'all, I don't normally make posts like this but with all eyes on American imperialism in Palestine I wanted to draw attention to American Imperialism a bit closer to home. I'm talking about the misinformation campaign and blockade of Cuba.

I have been in Cuba for a week now (and will be here for another) and what I have seen and heard has changed my view of what is possible in this world.

In Cuba housing is free, physical and mental health care are free, education is free and available to anyone who wants it at any level. Gay and trans rights, elderly rights, disabled rights, gender and racial equality, freedom of speech, and women's right to abortion are all constitutionally guaranteed. There is no homelessness, no violent crime, no recreational drugs (other than alcohol and tobacco), the streets are clean and don't smell like piss. I wandered around downtown Havana at until 3 in the morning and it's amazing how safe it feels.

I went to a small health clinic this afternoon to talk to the medical staff and they were describing what it means on the ground to have the most doctors per capita in the world. There is a health clinic with a doctor and nurse in every neighborhood / community and their is a hospital within a 30 minute drive of everyone in Cuba. They provide mostly house calls, so the doctors come around minimum twice a year to check on everyone in each family. All medical services are provided as a government service like a library in the US. And they have one of the most advanced biotechnology industries in the world. They created 3 separate COVID-19 vaccines that are as effective or more than Pizer, Moderna, and J&Js and with less side effects. It's hard to believe a place like this can exist and I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes.

Their system of government is fascinating. It's mostly volunteers. All of the local politicians have other jobs and do politics as a volunteer service after work. Everyone is expected to participate in their local government and to provide feedback and suggestions to improve government services. To draft the new 2019 constitution, there were over 80,000 meetings to make sure all 11 million people in the country had a chance to read it, understand it and make comments and amendments before the country voted on it. Their elected officials are as diverse as the communities they serve. Cuba has the second most percentage of women in their national assembly in the world at 53.4% (for comparison the US is at a record 28%)

Cuba is not a utopia. The island is poor and suffering and it is getting poorer every year due to the American blockade. The blockade is the combination of hundreds of pieces of legislation that together make importing any goods to Cuba either impossible or 10-20x more expensive. Every single aspect of life in Cuba is hurt by the blockade. Cuba imports around 70% of their food again at massively inflated prices. As well as all international trade has to be done in cash as they are excluded from the international banking system. They are cut off from foreign investment and American tourism.

For example I visited a Hydrologics factory in Cienfuegos that has to get a 3rd country to buy steel from Spain on their behalf and then sell it to them and after all the shipping and import fees it comes out to 11xs more expensive than if they could just buy it from Spain in the first place and 15x more than if they could buy it from the US steel market.

The people of Cuba need us as Americans help. Please spread this message. If you want to know more ask me anything, I am here for another week interviewing citizens, if I haven't already asked that question myself I will go find you answers.

The media has been lying to us for 65 years about the revolutionary government of Cuba. It's time to stop listening to American media's misinformation and to put pressure on our elected representatives to end American Imperialism in Palestine and in Cuba

[fordearlife]

to those who hate August and Sara

cw: su*cide

First, listen – Sara is not without fault, but she IS autistic. anyone who isn't autistic is extremely unlikely to be able to fully understand all of her actions and decisions in S2. I want to write more on that (I did a bit more below), but for now I'll just say that the hate she's been getting is unfair and sometimes ableist. Lisa recently shared on instagram that the neurodivergent rep was Intentional and that autism does influence her character, which is something I believe to be obvious among autistic viewers.

August is very clearly not without fault, but I'm begging folks to consider the bigger picture of his circumstances. He has a drug problem, an eating disorder/body image issues, and an incredibly weak support system. he doesn't trust or rely on his mother. His dad also had a drug problem and killed himself, and he hasn't had space to process this with anyone in his life. His good friend (Erik) died and he didn't have space to process this in his own way either, albeit partially by his own doing. He wasn't connecting with that friend's brother (Wilhelm) in the way he expected to, and his friends at school ditched him at the first opportunity to exert power over him to meet their own needs. His shitty behavior (misogyny, etc.) was encouraged/excused by Erik and all of his school friends. Vincent is at least classist, possibly racist (S2 rowing scenes) and homophobic. August feels pressure to succeed at school, he faces financial problems that he's left to navigate on his own and a choice of giving up two things that are equally important to him (the land, art, etc. left to him by his father and the things he's earned on his own at school), and now he has the added pressure of being Wille's backup as crown prince. Meanwhile, he has an inconsistent supply of the drugs he's dependent on, a secret relationship with the sister of the Wilhelm's love interest, who's problematic in the eyes of the royal court, a history of selling/doing drugs and consuming alcohol at school, which he lied about, and the guilt of taking/uploading the video, which is separate from the weight of the consequences. I dare to call all of this canon (except where I've specified otherwise).

The boy has made some BAD, HARMFUL decisions. But we also see him in a very different light when he's with Sara. He puts all of the manipulative shit aside during his time with her and only does his shitty thing again when he feels backed into a corner in S2. I believe that he shows that he's capable of change. What we haven't been shown yet is an avenue for that change. I think that Sara was an important step toward this though, because she seems to be the only person he really cares about in the entire series so far, and hurting her visibly caused him pain. He needed this to happen so he can begin to understand the hurt that he's caused to others.

I speak now as someone who believes in police and prison abolition. August needs help from folks who have been minimally affected by his actions. I want his stepdad and the royal family to keep him out of prison (if Sara was in fact reporting him and not turning herself in to take the fall, I have a Theory™️) and I want Sara, Simon, Wille, and Alexander to get more tangible justice. He should absolutely be removed from them so they can heal in their own way, but he needs therapy, and he needs to find a way to understand that failing to take accountability and face consequences for his actions will cause further harm to both the people around him and his current and future self. He needs better role models, and he needs a chance to form new emotional bonds with others so he can keep learning what it means for people to care for each other.

A final defense for Sara: She didn't just say that she lost her way because she was in love, she said that she thought the damage of the video had already been done and that she was convinced that August was trying to change, and I believe her. She barely saw any of the ugliness that happened between August and Simon in S1. She saw Simon upset with him at parents' day, which would've seemed over-the-top without the context of the money/drugs, and she knows that August posted the video (correct me if I'm missing anything). She DID incorrectly convince herself that he wanted to turn himself in – he never hinted that he would – but he otherwise showed her an entirely different side of himself. He genuinely said he would never hurt her, he wanted to be seen with her in public, and he comforted her when she was upset about Rousseau (that meltdown is also specifically attacked by an upsetting number of viewers as being childish and evidence that she's an uncaring person/sibling with misplaced priorities). They were happy together. The fact that she got that kind of love (from AUGUST even) as an autistic teen who felt so out of place at that school was beautiful, and it absolutely represents a justifiable source of internal conflict for her.

/fin (for now)

[sw124]

FNAF Security breach: Baby Gregory AU

Part2: Recharge & Sleepover!

[Context: I believe Sun and Moon to be two separate individuals in one body, my fic my rules!]

She didn’t get paid enough for this, dealing with trouble makers sure she can handle. Entitled parents weren’t a big deal…but having a infant abandoned at the Pizza-Plex and put inside an animatronic of all places…she didn’t sign up for that but here she was. Though she had to admit, watching Freddy holding a baby..did make up for the headache she was getting. However there was still the pressing issue involving the baby.

“Freddy, are you sure you don’t remember anything before you went into your recharge cycle?” She kept her voice steady, it was easier said then done.

“Other then my stomach hatch malfunctioning…no, my door was closed an no one but you or other S.T.A.F.F personal can get in through the back.”

That was true, already she started thinking someone stealing a party pass…but that was thrown out the door. Exclusive passes to any of the animatronics green rooms were on hold at the moment, someone was stealing passes and selling them illegally so all passes were suspended until further notice…accept ‘Daycare passes’ that is. She checked the camera‘s before coming down and…nothing, she didn’t find anything. No one entering Freddy’s room from the outside so they must’ve entered in somewhere else…

“An the only thing you found on him was a piece of paper with a name on it?”

Freddy nodded. “I’m assuming its his name, but thats all…”

Well this was great, the daycare got so quiet a pin dropping on the floor would have sounded like an atomic bomb…ok maybe not that quiet, the Daycare’s music was still playing and ‘Gregory’ was cooing up a storm while playing with some blocks Sun provided him. Rubbing her face one more time she tried hard to think…there was protocols for lost kids…but not abandoned ones.

Worst yet…was thinking of this poor kid ending up in some orphanage or foster home, she heard so many horror stories…even if the kid got adopted out there was no guarantee the parents would be good. She needed to think about this carefully, she motioned the others to stay near Gregory while she headed to the security desk.

She sat down…and let her head drop to the desk, her hands being an impromptu cushion. She had an idea but knew for a fact it was gonna be a huge undertaking…but if it meant this kid wasn’t gonna end up in a bad home then maybe…

“Hey whatcha doin?”

Vanessa looked up from the desk, Monty was laying on his back while the baby was crawling over his stomach.

“Hehe, you tryin to pin me squirt? Huh? Not in yer life!” Monty lifted him up and held him in the air, the baby’s arms dangling while his little feet kicked. Freddy was kneeling right beside them, just being sure nothing went wrong.

“Oh no, whats he gonna doooooo.” Cooed Chica, she was sitting back a little giving the gator some room, Roxy was leaning on one of the slides just shaking her head with a big grin on her face.

Sun came up and gingerly took the baby from the gator’s hands. “He’s going to bed, I got a crib set up over in the corner already. I’m hoping he’ll fall asleep before the power goes out.”

“You scared of the dark Sunny?” Teased Monty.

“No, but I am worried about what my brother will do if he finds a baby in the Daycare thats not sleeping.”

From where Vanessa was sitting she could see Freddy’s gears locking up, his eyes growing wide. She knew Freddy moved fast but the speed he had from getting up from the floor an to that baby was almost almost a blur. Though it was far more shocking to see how fast Sun was, the baby was in the crib before poor Freddy had a chance to take him back. If that wasn’t enough, Sun was pushing Freddy away from the crib.

An of course Freddy started complaining.

“But I have to-“

Sun interrupted. “You have to stay quiet an let him sleep, he’s had a long day and I for one don’t wanna deal with Moon nagging me about having a bunch of people in the Daycare when the lights go off. Look he already knows about the baby an whats going on, we share the same body after all.”

“But-“

“No ‘buts’ Freddy, besides your battery is still low an you haven’t properly recharged. Look if your so worried we can have Vanessa stay here until the lights come back on, sound fair?” Sun looked over at Vanessa, giving her an apologetic nod, he didn’t wanna keep her from her job but he really didn’t want to worry the others.

Sadly for Sun, Vanessa didn’t give him a nod back…instead she got up and opened the Daycare doors and motioned everyone out…minus Freddy and Sun.

“I can’t Sunny, I gotta go make a call to corporate. Though I agree with you I think its best Freddy stay with the kid, he’s pretty attached to him anyway an if Moon shows up its better to have him nearby to keep him from getting scared.” Said Vanessa as she ushered the others out

Chica gave a little whine but listened, Monty an Roxy followed. They all had a job to do when the doors closed, so did Vanessa. Before she left she turned to look at Freddy and Sun, giving them a sharp glare.

“Freddy you mind the Daycare rules and Sun no making up rules on the spot, your dealing with a baby, not a toddler, not a child, a baby. I can’t stress that enough, I got diapers, formula an a change of clothes for him in the bag here at the security desk. I’ll see you guys in a little while, bye.” An with that, the Daycare doors closed.

“Geez…well can’t do anything about it but you still need to recharge.” Sun turned to Freddy…but he was already making his way to Gregory.

“Oh for the love of-“

It was then the lights went out, power was sent to the recharge stations….Freddy looked around, the only lights that were on were the glow in the dark/neon stars, the advertising monitor at the security desk an his own eyes.

He turned to check on Gregory…only to find Moon standing there…glaring at him.

“AH! O-Oh hey Moon…I was just gonna-“

Moon held up his hand before pointing to the door.

“Recharge now or this sleepover is canceled.”

End pt.2

[Story based on the drawings done by @callmebread please check out their tumblr page]

[phoenixyfriend]

Elements of this proposed ban that require actual thought, since it's just... not as simple as the internet makes it out to be:

This is not the first time they have tried to ban TikTok. This is a recurring issue, and it comes back to China. I'm sure most of us have seen the absolutely cringeworthy congressional hearing snippets where the CEO, Chew, has to correct someone with "Senator, I am Singaporean."

A good portion of this is xenophobia. Getting that out of the way first. You know a bunch of the reps and senators are just really scared of The Scary Foreign Company.

The concern that most representatives have (it passed the House 352-65) is about TikTok gathering data on users and sharing it with the Chinese government, as Bytedance is under partial control of the Chinese government. It's complicated who owns what and to what degree, but the Chinese influence on TikTok is not zero.

The current iteration of the bill is not a blanket ban. It is conditional. TikTok will be banned if they do not separate from Bytedance.

TikTok shot itself in the foot a little bit: with the bill's introduction to the House, they pushed a notification to all adult users of the app in the US. They then provided a platform to input the zip code of the user and call the reps and senators, all within the app, rather than just sending them to the link I always use. This use of age and location data was seen as a possible example of the Chinese government gathering information on the userbase. Is age and location information that most apps have these days? Yes. Are the others owned by China? There's the issue.

Sale of Americans' personal data to China are already under scrutiny and have been for a while, along with Russia, Vietnam, Iran, North Korea, Cuba, and Venezuela. To my understanding, the law passed in that link affected all data brokers, including Americans.

A lot of people are, understandably, wary of accusations that China may be a malicious actor due to the American tendency to skew such things due to racism, xenophobia, and a distaste for communism. I myself had that reaction, but I know I have a tendency to do that, and tried to reframe and distance myself, in the manner of 'would I react the same if it was a different country where I had less concern over racism playing a role in the policy?' In that regard, I would like to remind everyone that China is one of Russia's closest allies (along with Belarus and India), and Russia is China's closest. China is also very dependent on Russia for oil power right now. If you believed, to any degree, that Russia had psyops on tumblr to manipulate the 2016 election, something that was later proven, then you should at least consider that China would do the same on an app that they technically own through Bytedance.

Honestly, I don't know how much of the reporting on the topic of China's government paying out the nose for US private data is legitimate and how much of it is just hearsay, rumor-mongering, and racist conspiracy theories... but I can't really ignore that the US and China are at odds, and 'China has it out for American citizens' holds water the way it does for 'Russia has it out for American citizens.' It's just... Cold War, part II stuff.

The questions we have to ask ourselves are about which actions in pursuit of 'avoid the malicious intentions of a foreign government we are not really at peace with' are reasonable precautions, which are racist/xenophobic and have a chance of negatively impacting innocent people (e.g. we don't want a repeat of McCarthyism), and which ones are both. The previous ban on data brokers selling to these other countries is both, in my view, because those data brokers shouldn't be selling at all. It's not really unreasonable to ban those sales to international entities, but it's also xenophobic to apply it only to foreign actors instead of domestic ones as well.

The approach to this that I think we could all benefit from is to ask the questions below. I will give the absolute most basic answers, but each answer is significantly longer and more complicated in reality.

Which freedoms or rights does a ban of this platform violate? Free speech, freedom of commerce.

Which freedoms or rights does a ban nominally pursue? A right to privacy, protection against a non-ally foreign state with possible malicious intent.

Who is intentionally impacted by a ban? The Chinese government, data brokers both domestically and internationally. In a positive manner, American citizens are impacted in the sense of their privacy being protected.

Who is unintentionally impacted by a ban? People who use TikTok to communicate in situations where they otherwise might not be able to. People who use TikTok to make a living as content creators. People who use TikTok as a platform to advertise their businesses. People who use TikTok for activism.

What complicating factors may be driving this proposed ban? Racism and xenophobia are skewing perspectives by those who are concerned about the PRC. Older legislators are concerned that the younger generation, the bulk of TikTok users, are too young or too addicted to the platform to make reasonable decisions.

What complicating factors may be driving the negative response to this proposed ban? A kneejerk suspicion of that racism and xenophobia by progressives, which may cause a dismissal of concerns with plausible legitimate basis. Concern that older legislators are enacting policies that they do not understand due to their lack of familiarity with the platform, or technology in general.

What other complicating factors are there with regards to this proposed ban? Why the hell is there no similar concern for Facebook, X, Google, or any other US-based company that does ridiculous amounts of data farming of citizens across the world? Regulate your own damn companies first, maybe? Seriously, where the fuck is this energy when it comes to Zuckerberg and Musk?

I cannot make your conclusion for you. I cannot pretend that the American government's concern over China is unfounded, nor can I pretend that racism, xenophobia, and anti-communist sentiment are wholly uninvolved in Congressional actions.

But I do think that understanding what Congress is actually doing is important. Knowledge is power, and hopefully I've given you a bit more today.

hey since it's coming up again: no it's not a good thing that the government wants to ban tiktok. no you should not be glad that the government might ban tiktok. no you should not respond to this with "good riddance" or "hurry up I hate that app". I should not have to explain this to you but the government banning a social media app is still a bad thing even if you don't like the UI or booktok or having to say "unalive" or how you think it's killing the very notion of attention spans. It's still bad. It's bad.

[saphirered]

Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

[pan-fangirl-345]

He Would Tear the World Apart

Summary: During a raid, you're taken hostage. Shouto doesn't take the news well, and will do anything to get you back.

TW: kidnapping, abuse, alcoholism mentioned, Enji Todoroki's bad parenting, mental torture, dissociating, injuries, blood, angst, mentioned character death (no one actually dies), a lot of swearing, chains, starvation, dehydration, that sort of thing. If there's anything I missed, please let me know! Also, there is a happy ending, so it's angst to fluff!

A/N: First and foremost, I have no medical degree, I have no idea what it's like to dissociate, so anything medically incorrect is because I am not a doctor, though I am currently working on getting my psychology degree. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, that was not the intention. I have no idea what went through my head to make me write all of this in an hour, but here you go. Also, please read the trigger warnings, and if you don't like it, don't read it. Anyway, I might make a part two to this if anyone is interested. Feel free to spam my ask box, or slide into my DM's if you want. Please interact with me, I adore you all.

Aizawa sighed as he stepped into the conference room. He sat down heavily in his usual seat, and Nezu climbed onto his shoulder, as was custom after so many years, despite the situation they were in.

Again.

"As you have all heard, one of the second year students, (Y/N), has been taken. She was last seen on a raid with the hero she was studying under, and we haven't heard anything from her since this transmission."

Nezu pressed play on a recording and her voice floated through the air.

She was panting, and she was whispering, but Aizawa knew that it was her.

"To anyone receiving this transmission, this is hero-in-training Tempest, I'm pursuing the criminals associated with the gang 'The Numerals'. I've been separated from the others and my comms have been compromised by one of the members. Please, send back-up."

There was a pause where all they could hear was her breathing, and suddenly she yelled, "Hey! You, stop!"

There was static, and then there was nothing.

"We have received information from one of our recon teams that they have taken her to their base of operations, though we don't know exactly where that is yet. We have also, as a school, received a ransom demand. Her parents have yet to be contacted about this."

Copies of the notes were handed out to the teachers, and they all frowned, clearly thinking the same thing Aizawa had thought.

They were a school, what kind of school had this kind of money sitting around?

"What is the girl's quirk?"

"She can create different types of storms in her hands," Aizawa supplied. "As of the end of last year, she could make a hurricane for a few minutes at a time, sometimes a dust storm, and I know for a fact that she was undergoing training over the summer, so it might be more than that now. Under extreme duress, she can make a full scale electrical storm in a building or outside, but only if her life is threatened."

"So, not helpful for getting out of this kind of situation?" one of the other teachers chirped and Aizawa nodded.

"No," he agreed. "Though we should be checking for any strange storms and freak electrical spikes."

"Do any of the other students know about this?" Hizashi asked.

"No, and we need to keep it that way," Aizawa told his husband.

"Why?" Vlad King asked.

"(Y/N) is Todoroki Shouto's girlfriend," Aizawa replied, then waited for that to sink in before he continued. "If he finds out that she's gone, or that's she's been kidnapped and harmed . . . ." He shook his head a few times before he added, "He would tear the world apart to get her back."

"Fuck," someone mumbled, and Aizawa nodded.

Pretty much everyone that was at U.A. knew what that girl meant to Shouto, not to mention the people at Endeavor's agency, and the one that (Y/L/N) was working with.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Midnight asked.

"We plan a rescue mission," Nezu said. "We're working with nearly every police force in the country to try and figure out where they're keeping her. We have a rough area," he clicked onto a photo of a map, one area to the far north highlighted in bright red. "But there's nothing we can do until then, we need a warrant and evidence."

"The life of a child isn't enough?" Midnight asked. "Especially such a beautiful girl?"

Everyone went quiet, the mood somber and heavy.

"Aizawa, you spent more time with this girl than anybody," one of the third year teachers said, "how likely is it that she'll find a way out on her own?"

"It's a possibility," Aizawa admitted. "She's a very capable student, on par with Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugou, but they know what she can do. Not to mention that sources tell us she was injured, though we aren't sure to what extent. And the longer she spends with them is more time Shouto has to figure out what's happening. Not to mention the other students. We need to get her out as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Hizashi added.

It was no secret that Present Mic and Eraserhead had both taken a liking to you when you were in Class 1-A, all of the teachers liked you, and you were a solid foundation for your classmates.

You were a calm presence, and everyone, Bakugou included, had gone to you for advice at some point, though it was all for different reasons.

You tend to be a level-headed person, but when you felt strongly about something, nothing was going to stop you.

People, Shouto mainly, would start to sense the lack of your presence, and Aizawa wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted you back where you belonged.

"We can't keep him, Shouto I mean, in the dark about this," Hizashi murmured. "He's one of the best up and coming heroes."

"Not to mention," Aizawa added, "that we plan on flooding the streets with her photo. We've already sent it to all of the major hero agencies involved with the search, Endeavor's being one of them. If we don't tell him, his father will, and we all know how volatile that relationship is."

Everyone in the room shuddered at the mention of the father and son duo and nodded.

"Aizawa, All Might, it might be better if you both told him," Nezu said. "You both have the best relationship with him in this room, and you might be the only two that could hold him back if he reacts violently."

"And he will," Aizawa mumbled, already standing from his chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shouto knew something was wrong.

He hadn't seen or heard from you in two days, almost three, and the teachers were acting suspicious. There were fewer of them in the halls, and Aizawa was even more tired than usual, with dark worry bags under his eyes that the students hadn't seen since the Bakugou Debacle in their first year.

The last he had heard, you were going on a raid for some gang members that were selling some sort of hallucinogenic drug based off of a mirage quirk.

You hadn't contacted him or come back since.

"Young Shouto, can we speak to you for a moment?" All Might asked, making everyone look up from what they were doing.

Despite the dorms no longer being completely necessary, (the League had backed off a little bit in recent days, and there hadn't been very many Nomu attacks lately), most of Class 1-A, now 2-A, had moved into the dorms for their second year, you and Shouto included.

"Does this have to do with (Y/F/N)?" he asked, standing quickly.

"Unfortunately, yes," Aizawa said, voice somber.

"Todoroki, do you want us to come with you?" Midoriya asked, getting that look on his face.

"If it's about (Y/F/N) then they all deserve to know too," Shouto said. "And I would feel better knowing they were here."

"Of-Of course," All Might replied, glancing at Aizawa nervously.

"(Y/L/N) has been kidnapped and is being held hostage as we speak," he told them, as blunt as ever.

Aizawa ripped his goggles off right before Shouto blew.

One half of his body erupted into blue tinted flames, and the other exploded in a rain of ice, but they evaporated quickly under Aizawa's gaze, and before any damage could be done to the dorms.

Everything went dark in his head, and his feet were moving before he even had a chance to fully process what his former teachers had been saying to him.

"And where do you think you're going?" Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow as he moved to intercept him.

"To find her," Shouto snarled, and he didn't even recognize his own voice. It was several octaves lower than normal, and there was a rasp to it that had never been there before. "To get my girlfriend back."

"You don't even know where she is," Aizawa said. "We don't even know where she is. Besides, you're too emotionally involved."

"Too emotionally involved?" Shouto said, his voice too calm, his eyes too dead.

Everyone in the room took a step away from him. Everyone except Midoriya and Bakugou.

"Too emotionally involved?" he repeated.

"Oh shit," someone whispered, though Shouto didn't know who it was.

"That is my girlfriend. That is the love of my life and you're telling me that I can't get her back because . . . I'm too emotionally involved? What about when Midoriya went to get Eri? Was he too 'emotionally involved'?"

No one dared to point out that it was nowhere near the same thing, but there was a collective thought about it in the room.

"That is my fucking girlfriend out there," he snapped. "I will work harder than anyone to get her back. I will be the one person wholly invested in making sure that she stays safe."

"And that is why you can't be one of the people in on this," Aizawa told him. "The others are her friends, but you? You are way more than that, and that means that when it comes down to it, you can't make a clear-headed decision on whether it's worth it to try and grab her or not. Because she'll always be worth it to you."

"Damn right she will," Shouto said, staring Aizawa down.

No one had heard Shouto swear this much at once, if ever, depending on the person. He was starting to sound like Bakugou, and the others knew immediately that if you weren't back soon, he was going to blow.

"Look kid, I understand," Aizawa muttered. "I really do. I understand how you feel, I would do that same thing for Hizashi, but I also know what I would do, and we can't have that in the investigation. What would (Y/F/N) want?"

"She would want to be here!" Shouto shouted. "She would want to be teasing Bakugou in the kitchen, making sure that everyone had a blanket for movie night. She would want to be curled up with me on the couch watching bad romance movies that the girls cheated their way into picking out and making sure that I-!"

Shouto stopped as the emotions got lodged in his throat. Tears threatened to spill over as his vision got blurry, and the others were there to catch him as his knees gave out on him.

"We'll get her back kid," Aizawa assured him, crouching down, touching the top of his head softly. "We will get her back."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your head was buzzing as you came back to consciousness and you suppressed a groan of pain.

Consciousness hurt.

You did a short mental tally of your injuries.

Your ribs were definitely a little bruised, if not cracked or broken. Your lips were split in at least four different places each. One shoulder was definitely dislocated, and the other was hurt in some way. Your left ankle was bruised and swollen, broken probably. Your head probably had a huge gash if the blood running down the side of your face was anything to go by, and you were definitely concussed on some level.

Apparently getting your head slammed into solid concrete by someone who had launched themselves off a ledge would do that to you.

You were in what looked like a basement of some sort. The walls were solid concrete, there were pipes running overhead and dripping on you randomly, which wasn't appreciated, and there was insulation and plaster showing through here and there.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty?"

Your head whipped around to see your kidnapper, but your head protested and so did your stomach, despite the fact that there was nothing in it.

You suppressed a groan, trying to keep your stomach where it belonged.

"Ready to tell us who the informant is?"

"Go straight to hell," you muttered, when you were certain you wouldn't throw up on yourself, glaring at them.

"I still can't believe you were fucking stupid enough to kidnap a child! She doesn't know shit," the other man snapped at the first.

"She has to know something!" the first guy snapped. "She was in on the raid!"

His quirk allowed him to change his voice, so he wasn't using the real one, he sounded like a guy that smoked twenty packs of cigarettes a day.

The other guy you had started calling Sandy in your head. His quirk was similar to yours, he was able to turn anything he touched into sand, and then use it. He mostly made sand storms, and that's how they had gotten the jump on you in the tunnels.

One had blinded you while the other had carried you away, much to chagrin of the Sandy.

"I'm in training," you rasped. "I'm hero-in-training Tempest, from Class 2-A at the school U.A."

They hadn't given you anything to drink in the last two days, from what you could even remember of it, and you knew that you weren't going to last much longer, having been dehydrated when they had taken you.

They had kidnapped you from the raid site, and then spent six hours driving around like morons trying to cover their tracks, before driving for an unknown amount of time before they had dumped you in here. You had been unconscious for the secondary part of the drive, and you knew that with everything going on, there was the possibility you were experiencing retrograde amnesia.

"They don't tell me the important stuff like that. I get told when we're going on raids, and what my part in them is, and that's on the very rare occasion that they happen during my shifts. Most of the time, I'm on patrols around the city," you told them, taking a break in your little speech to spit blood onto the floor by your leg. "You need directions, I'm your girl, but you need to know who's a rat, sorry, I can't help."

You would've shrugged, but your arms were chained to the wall behind you, and every time you moved your right arm it made an awful clicking noise that you knew wasn't natural. Your left shoulder was dislocated as well, meaning your arms were pretty much useless.

One leg was operational, but barely. You were so far out of commission you wouldn't be surprised if U.A. kicked you out to recuperate.

U.A. wouldn't, and couldn't, pay the ransom. You knew that. The best hope you had was that you could act your way out of this, or that they planned a raid to get you out.

They had done it for Bakugou, why not you, right?

Shouto passed through your thoughts, thoughts about what he might do to get you back, but you shut them down as soon as they entered your head.

You were trying to keep him in a safe place.

You hoped that Shouto never learned about this. About where they were keeping you, what they had already done to try and get you to talk.

He was your safe place now, safe and away from this building, wherever you were. You thought maybe if you could keep him out of your head here, it was a way of protecting him from the reality of your situation, even if he already knew.

"She's a kid," Sandy snarled, pointing at you viciously. "She's a kid. You know the Boss' rules about kids and you broke almost every one of them!"

"Yeah, well-"

"Guys, hey, I hate to interrupt," you interjected, "but I really have to go to the bathroom."

They both stared at you for a moment before Sandy asked, "Do you promise to not try and escape?"

"Buddy, I don't know if you've looked recently, but I doubt I'm doing anywhere," you quipped. "My ankle is obviously demolished, my head was cracked open like an egg, thanks to your buddy Darth Vader over there. Not to mention, I'm dehydrated and starving, and don't even get me started on how much my ribs are killing me right now, probably literally. Do I look like I'm in any shape to try and escape?"

Sandy frowned, glancing at you like this was the first time he was seeing the extent of what had been done to you.

"Alright, I'm going to undo the chains, but you can't try to escape, you'll only make things worse for yourself."

"Death seems preferable at this point," you grunted, trying to hide the pain you were in.

"Don't you have healing supplies?"

"How am I supposed to use them when I can't move my fucking arms?" you asked, wiggling your fingers in emphasis. "And you morons confiscated my belt, which had them all in it! You know what my quirk is! What did you think was in it? Explosives? No, I leave that to Dynamight."

"Fuck," Sandy muttered.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" the voice dude asked.

"Because if she dies then that means no money and no chance of surviving prison again. Do you know what happens to people who mess with kids in prison? Nothing good."

You logged that little piece of information away, trying to focus on their features, but with your concussion, your eyes weren't the hottest.

"Can you move?" Sandy asked you as he worked on unlocking your chains.

You couldn't help the cry of pain when your arms dropped to your sides, tearing stinging your eyes as you bit into your already roughed up lip.

"Shit. Can we get a medic in here?" Sandy shouted.

A door opened and someone stuck their head in. Sandy repeated his demand, and the door shut again.

"Why are you doing this?" you whimpered, trying to keep your voice even.

If they were sadists, any fear or pain you showed only gave them what they wanted.

"Because we don't have a choice," Sandy said. "The Boss gave us somewhere to belong, he gave us a place off the streets. We owe him. We would've died."

"Shut up," Smoker snapped, and you glanced at him.

"I have a headache, and it comes and goes as you talk. Please, for the love of all things holy, shut up," you hissed to Darth Vader, wanting to touch your head, but not being able to for multiple reasons.

Sandy touched your shoulder lightly and you cried out again, moving automatically to hit him, but your other arm twinged, bringing more tears to your eyes.

"Sorry," Sandy murmured, pulling his hands away.

You took a shaky breath, waiting for the pain to dull before you said, "There's no way I'm moving from this spot without being in pain, and I'm definitely going to need help."

"Holy fuck, you two morons were two lucky blows away from killing her."

You glanced over to see someone with a med kit strolling leisurely down the stairs.

"Hello Tempest," they said, giving you a bright smile.

"Hello Med Kit," you replied, giving them a grimace.

"You can call me Himo for now," Med Kit said. "Do you mind if I take a look?"

"You're going to whether I want you or not, but sure, go ahead," you muttered. "It's not really like you can make this any worse."

"I could break almost every bone in your body and keep you alive while doing it, so I could do so much worse, but that's not the goal here," Himo told you, setting to work.

"So what is the goal? Since I'm assuming that I'm never going to get out of here," you said, glancing around.

"Why do you think that?" Himo asked, ignoring your first question.

"Because I've seen your faces, I know your quirks, I know a general area of where I'm being kept, unless someone used a teleportation quirk of some sort. I know the school won't pay the ransom, my parents don't have that kind of money, and my boyfriend's father would never pay to see me safe and sound. He would probably twist his son's grief to get him to be compliant," you grumbled. "Besides, I'm a hero, hero-in-training, whatever, it's all semantics. I'm basically your arch-nemesis. Isn't that what every villain wants? To kill the person in their way?"

"We aren't villains," Sandy muttered.

"You break laws put in place to protect people, you attacked a minor, then kidnapped her after assaulting her, and you are trying to get a ransom for me," you pointed out. "That doesn't really scream 'hero' or 'civilian' to me."

"Have you ever though about who writes the rules? About how money can manipulate everything? The system is flawed, and we are going to make sure people know it," Darth Vader snarled. "Do you understand how unfair the world is?"

"Don't talk to me about the world being unfair," you whispered, your voice dropping, every muscle in your body tensing. "My boyfriend loves his mother more than pretty much anyone in the world. Her parents, his grandparents, arranged a quirk marriage, and she had four children she didn't necessarily want. Her husband drove her to near insanity, enough so that she poured a kettle of boiling water over my boyfriend's face because he looks like his father. His father has already managed to get one of his children killed, and he considers the other rejects because they don't have the quirk he wanted them to have. He's a different kind of monster, and he's not in jail.

"My own father verbally and mentally abused me for as long as I can remember. My mother and I were zombies until recently, when I decided I had had enough and my mother finally found the courage and will to leave his sorry ass in the gutters where it belongs. My father always had enough alcohol in his system to make him a human molotov cocktail. I had little to no self esteem until recently, and I still struggle to understand and comprehend that I am worth love. I am still learning to respect myself. So you don't get to preach to me about how unfair the world is buddy, we all know," you snarled.

"The hundreds, thousands of kids out on the street know. The women and men that get raped, and continue to see their own personal monster roam free know. The kids that get hit every day for not being what their parents want know. That's why people like me exist, to put away the monsters wearing human skin. That's why my friends and I try so hard to be heroes. It's not about the glory, or the money. It's about bring people to justice, it's about making sure that people feel safe. It's about giving other people something that we never had."

Silence echoed through the room as what you said sank in.

You hadn't meant to burst like that, but you were sick and tired of these guys using their shitty lives to make other people's lives shitty too.

"Why are you a hero, Tempest?" Himo asked.

"Because I want to save people," you replied. "I just told you that. I want to make sure that every child like me knows that they don't have to be their parents, that there is another option. I don't want the abused becoming the abuser. I want to make sure that the people doing the bad things get put where they belong. I want to help the kids that have nothing to lose, I want to help them realize that they have everything to gain. I want to give people like you hope."

There was no use in lying to them, they were probably going to kill you anyway. Besides, it might help you build rapport, and they might let you go when they realized that they made a mistake.

"People like us?"

"People who think that there isn't another option. People who have been shown nothing but the horrid parts of the world, the horrible parts of humanity. People who don't know what it's like to be loved completely by somebody, both good and bad. People who think that they owe someone who isn't worth one minute of their time. Good people who strayed too far from the path."

There was silence for a few minutes before you said, "I've seen a lot of real villains, people who aren't capable of basic human emotions, I've seen people who have no humanity in their eyes. They are the villains, they are the monster under our beds personified. People like you, you just simply wandered. You aren't lost, you're just further to the side than some other people. It would be easy for you to walk the path again."

You paused, thinking over what you said, then added, "Well, it wouldn't be easy necessarily, but it would be worth it."

"You still have the naivety of a child," Vader snarled.

"Call me what you want, naive, innocent, optimistic, I've heard it all, but in the end, I'm right," you told him.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because, at the end of the day, I know that every life I save isn't just one life," you replied. "That young woman I saved, she might have kids some day, or foster a child that needs a loving mother. That child I shoved out of the way might help the suicidal child in his class. Every life I save touches other people's lives. As hard as it is to believe, no one is ever truly alone in the world. Every smile I give to a stranger might make their day, might help them live long enough to find the thing that makes them happy. That's why I'm a hero."

More silence.

Your face heated, but there was something in their faces that told you they had never thought about it that way before.

"So, is there anything you can do to heal me?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Like I said, these guys were two lucky blows away from killing you, I'm surprised that you're still alive, actually, everything considered. Your head will heal on it's own, but there might be a little scar left. However, your ribs might take longer. Three are cracked, and four are bruised. Your ankle might need surgery to get it back to the way it was. It's definitely broken, and there might be small bone particles floating around in there, I'm not entirely sure, my quirk isn't that detailed I'm afraid. Not to mention that, from what I can see, your shoulders just need to be popped back into place. One was dislocated more than the other, but it will hurt."

"Can't hurt worse than the state I'm in now. So what can you do? I'm assuming that taking me to a hospital is out of the question."

"Well, I can treat the cut on your head, relocate your shoulders, and I can see if someone else can take a look at your ankle, but everything else will have to heal on it's own."

"So there isn't much?"

"Nope, we don't have the equipment needed for your ankle here, and, like you said, no hospitals."

"Fucking gre- wait a minute, to you guys still have my belt?" you asked, perking up a little.

"Yeah, it's over here," Sandy said, walking over into the back corner, pulling your med belt out.

"Hand it over. I promise there's nothing too harmful in there. There are some painkillers, but it's just Midol. It's all medical stuff," you said, wincing as Sandy dropped it into your lap.

You opened it, taking out a small device.

"What does that thing even do?" Himo asked, looking at it warily.

"It's not a communicator or anything," you hurried to explain. "I made some friends in the support courses, so I asked if they could make me a device that works like an X-ray would. Himo, take it."

He took from you gently, which you appreciated, and turned it all around, trying to figure out how it worked.

"Alright, see that little button on the top left, yeah, right there. Click that button twice, like hitting the home button of a phone."

Himo did as he was told, and the screen blinked to life.

"Alright, hold the over my hurt ankle, and it should be able to show what's going on. Or," you added, "it'll blow up. Hatsume is kind of unpredictable like that."

Himo's hands tightened on it, but he did what you asked, and was clearly surprised when a detailed X-ray appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit, it worked!" you cheered, grinning.

"You have some very talented friends," Himo told you.

"I know right? She's a little quirky, but she's great at what she does!"

"How are you able to smile right now?" Sandy asked, looking at you with something akin to wonder.

"Don't get me wrong," you started. "I'm fucking terrified, but there's not much I can do in this situation. Besides, from what I can tell, other than the initial assault, you people don't want to hurt me. You want something from me. In this scenario, what I'm guessing, is that you want something from me, so you're going to be nice, and make me want to help you out, or make me feel like I owe you one, and then, when I don't comply, you'll either torture me to try and get what you want until I die, or you'll just kill me right off the bat."

Himo winced, and Sandy twitched.

"You guys really hate the thought of me dying, don't you?" you asked, cocking your head to the side, despite the protect of your brain. "Is this one of those scenarios where kids should be off limits?"

"We may be bad guys, but we have certain priorities," Sandy admitted. "Kids are a sore spot for most of us."

You nodded slightly. "I can see why. You guys said something about being on the streets? I know that sometimes kids band together, that's how they survive. I'm assuming you've lost friends."

"Smart kid," Himo murmured, eyes darting over the X-ray.

"Sometimes they give us profile training," you admitted. "Besides, I've been working on my psychology degree."

"Wicked smart kid," Sandy quipped.

"Alright, so I can set your ankle, there isn't anything wrong with it other than the obvious fact that it's broken," Himo said, handing the device back to you. "Riko, I'm gonna need your help."

"With what?" Sandy asked, looking skeptical.

"Can you hold her legs down? I need to relocate her shoulders before I do anything with her ankle, just because I have a feeling she attacks when she's hurt."

"Good instincts," you muttered.

"I'm a doctor," he confessed, grinning. "You learn a thing or two."

"Sorry about this," Sandy said.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," you told him. "As long as that's all you do I'll considerate your way of trying to make up from everything else."

Sandy snorted, holding your legs just below your knees.

"This is going to hurt," Himo warned.

"I would be surprised if it-"

You clenched your teeth to try and keep your scream in as Himo popped your right arm back into place.

The rest of your body bucked, trying to roll away, but Sandy, Riko, had a firm hold on you.

You panted as the pain started to fade a little in your arm.

"Sorry, I've found it works better when people aren't expecting it," he said.

"Son of a bitch," you gritted out, spitting blood off to the side. "I bit my tongue."

Riko chuckled, shaking his head.

"Alright, now for the other one," Himo murmured. "I really don't understand how you managed to take this much damage."

"At least I only broke my ankle. My friend Deku has broken both arms, both legs, and both hands before. I think he's broken almost every bone in his body sa-"

Himo popped your other arm back into place and you couldn't stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks at that one, your jaw almost cracking with how hard you clenched it to try and keep the noises in.

"Fucking fuck," you muttered when the pain pulsed into something a little bit more bearable.

"Better?" Himo asked, prodding your shoulders.

"Yeah," you admitted, moving them slowly. You dug around in your med belt, pulling out two pieces of metal and a small bottle.

"What is that for?" Himo asked.

You pushed a button on the metal, and they extended to the required length.

"It's for a splint, or a cast," you told him. "Once you set my ankle, you put the metal on either side, and I can spray this one. It's a special kind of plaster, don't ask me how it works, I have no idea what's in it, but it'll hold until my ankle is fully healed, then it'll fall off on it's own."

"Amazing!"

"Heroes, when the respond to disasters, often have to set up triages until other emergency responders can arrive, so we have to know a little bit about basic medical treatments in emergencies like that. So a lot of us have belts and such to keep medical stuff in. I also keep duct tape and glue in here. You never know when you're gonna need it."

You pulled out some painkillers, popping two in your mouth, taking them dry.

"How?" Vader asked, sounding horrified.

"Hate to break it to you, but when you're a teenage girl, especially one learning to be a hero, when you don't always have time for water, you learn to take pills dry."

"TMI," Vader muttered.

"Hey, jackass, you asked," you told him.

Riko and Himo chuckled.

"Alright. Riko, see if you can get a hold on her, this is gonna hurt like a bitch," Himo warned. "Li, hold her other leg down."

"Don't use my fucking name!" Vader shouted.

"You know, I wouldn't have known that was your real name if you hadn't reacted that way," you told him. "Heroes are also trained to pick up on certain behaviors like that."

Li grumbled, but did as he was asked.

Himo situated himself, then said, "Get ready."

The pain had you blacking out before you knew what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I knew something was wrong," Shouto muttered for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. "I should have gone with her!"

"Dude, it wasn't even your mission," Kaminari told him. "There was nothing you could've done for her."

"Yeah you half-and-half bastard," Bakugou chimed in. "Besides, we're gonna get her back, so shut up and try and think of something useful."

Everyone had leapt into action when it had sunk in that you were in serious danger. It didn't take long, and no one wanted to acknowledge that it was worrisome.

They had split up into teams.

Midoriya, Bakugou, Shouto, Kaminari, and Kirishima were working on the maps that had been given to the students.

Momo, Jirou, Uraraka, Mina, and Tsuyu were going over the interviews with raid members, trying to gather up information on what had happened, trying to see if there was a traitor among them, other than the undercover agent that they had been told about.

Tokoyami, Ojiro, Shoji, Sero, and Koda were helping the other heroes do recon missions and patrols in the area where they suspected you were being held.

Sato, Shinso, Hagaruke, and Iida were working on the case files of all the known members of the gang that you had been going after. Surprisingly, those four were the only ones able to hear about the things that some of the gang members had done.

Hagakure was crying softly to herself as she read, but no one could pull her away from the files.

"I have to know," she kept saying. "I need to know about what they did so I can help when we get her back."

Sato didn't know you as well as the others did, so he was a little less effected. He were itching to get you back, but the others had spent far more time with you personally.

Shinso, on the other hand, was powering through them, wanting to know what he had to avenge when they got to that building. He wanted to know what they might be doing to you so that he could have far more reason to get them arrested.

Iida just wanted something useful to do.

"They just cleared building seven in section 3-C!" Aoyama called from his spot the progress computer that they had set up in the common room.

Aoyama was in charge of letting them know what had been cleared, what was under suspicion, and what they had ruled out completely.

"Fuck, that pretty much clears that grid section," Bakugou muttered, forcefully crossing an abandoned apartment building off his map.

"They might need to expand their net," Midoriya added. "No one knows where she is. There's the possibility that they aren't even in that area."

"I hate this!" Shouto burst out. "I feel useless just sitting here!"

"It's either this or you get stuck back on the sidelines," Bakugou reminded him and he clenched his fists.

He just wanted you back safe and sound by his side, preferably with his arm around your shoulders.

He'd been trying to remember the last thing he said to you before you had gone on that raid, but he couldn't remember.

He hoped that it was 'I love you' or something similar, but not knowing was killing him.

"Todoroki-kun," Midoriya said, laying a hand on his arm. "We will get her back."

"Yeah, we aren't giving up on her, no way in hell," Kaminari added, eyes flashing gold in the lights of the common room.

"She never gave up on us, it's not manly for us to give up on her," Kirishima chimed in.

"I know," Shouto said. "I trust you all."

It went unsaid, but understood, that when it came time to get her back, Shouto was going to be the one leading the rescue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Himo came into the basement and said, "Do you think you can walk?"

"On one leg maybe. Why?" you asked.

Your ankle was wrapped in the cast that you had taken out, but your ankle was feeling a little better than it had been. It still throbbed every once in a while, but it could've been worse.

"The boss wants to see you."

"Oh, the big boss," you griped, rolling your eyes. "He wants to see me he can come down here himself."

Himo hesitated, but he nodded, heading back upstairs.

You had known that there was an undercover agent in the gang, but you had yet to figure out who it was.

Every member of the gang seemed to know that you were there, that, or they were much bigger than you had anticipated.

So far, Himo and Riko were your top two suspicions, given that they were the only two that were actually kind to you, but you had a small part of you that wasn't sure.

The door opening a few minutes later announced the arrival of the leader, and you steeled yourself.

"You fucking morons," the man muttered, rubbing his eyes like he had a headache. "What did I say about kids?"

"Sorry Boss, but we didn't have a choice," Li said, stepping out of the shadows.

He had been stay with you for the entire week, and it was clear that you didn't have the kind of rapport with him that you did with Riko and Himo.

You had been trying to make a storm, something, to let the someone know where you were, but you had idea of knowing whether it was working or not. You were in the experimental stages of the large storm capabilities of your quirk, and you were completely drained at the moment.

"What's your name kid?" the man asked.

His hands were covered in rings, and scars littered the little bit of skin his tailored suit showed off.

You had seen Shouto in high class clothes for gatherings that he was required by social convention to attend, so this guy was either rich, or so far into debt that he was on the run from the banks.

"You can call me Tempest," you said.

"(Y/N). Second year at U.A. Class 2-A student, and one of the new public favorites," Li said.

"Aw, you looked me up, how sweet," you taunted. "But like I said, I prefer Tempest, it sounds cooler."

"Far enough," the boss said.

He was wearing a mask that covered the top half of his face, and a fedora type hat, so there wasn't much to catalog, but you did anyway.

"Are you here to kill me?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, despite the way it made the chains rattle.

"No, not if you give me what I want," the man said. His voice was deep, and he looked like he was in his early thirties, but you weren't entirely sure.

"I don't know who your rat is," you stated.

"How do you know that's what I wanted?"

"When I woke up on day two, your Sandy man and Darth Vader over there were talking about it. Vader actually asked me about it." You paused, then said, "You guys do realize that I'm right under an intern right? I'm not high enough to know about UC's. Think of me like the intern's intern. I'm lucky I even got to go on the raid."

The man watched your for a moment before he said, "I hate it when people tell me the truth. It means I don't get to have any fun."

"Sucks to be you then," you replied. "So what happens now?"

"You get broken," the man said, reaching out to touch your forehead.

"Good luck with that," you muttered when he pulled away.

Then the visions started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Everybody get up!" Aoyama shouted. "Up, up, up! Someone called in a noise complaint late last night!"

Class 2-A poured into the common room.

Shouto, Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero ran in with no shirts on, and Kaminari fell trying to pull his shorts up over his Pikachu boxers. Shinso was already in there sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee clad in a t-shirt with a cat meme and dark jeans.

The girls poured in in a mix of pajamas and hoodies that they had stolen from the boys over the last week, their hair a mess and dark bags under their eyes.

"What's going on?" Shouto asked. He knew that his bags were darker than anyone's, and no one had seen him sleep in almost three days.

"Late last night someone called the tip line anonymously to complain about screaming from a condemned building smack dab in the middle of section 1-A. Someone checked into it and there has been a lot of activity in that area lately," Aoyama explained.

He had given up trying to keep up the sparkly attitude, though some of the French had stayed.

"Is there anything else?"

"Guess which gang has been operating in the middle of that area?" Shinso said, having stayed up with the sparkly blond.

"The Numerals," Shouto said.

"Tres bein!" Aoyama replied.

"Have the heroes been notified?"

"They started a conference at three this morning," Shinso said.

"And no one told us?" Shouto asked.

"They wanted to let us sleep. They know how hard we've been working," Shinso replied.

"I'll sleep when we get her back," Shouto snapped, heading for the conference room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aizawa shouldn't have been surprised when his former students streamed into the meeting that was being held to rescue (Y/L/N), but he was.

Though that might have been because most of the boys were shirtless and the girls were clad in their pajamas, and hoodies that were clearly not theirs.

"Catch us up," Shouto demanded.

"Shouto, what are you-"

"Shouto, you are aware that this is merely to scope out the building, correct?" Aizawa interrupted, glancing at his former class.

"We don't fucking care," Bakugou snarled. "You're going to catch us up, and you're going to let us join, because she's our friend, and we're the strongest team that you could ask for."

"We can't, in good conscience, let kids into-"

"Do we need to mention all the times that the League has attacked us in the last year? Not to mention Gentle Criminal, Stain, the whole Chisaki ordeal, should we go on?" Midoriya asked, frowning.

Endeavor went to talk again but more students started to talk.

"We can help," Kirishima chimed in. "We want to help."

"Besides," Kaminari added before any of the adults could chime in, "the more hands you have the better it'll be. We can capture more members and get her back. It's a win-win scenario. Gangs are known to be disorganized. If you can get word to your informant about a stealth mission, you might be able to get both them and (Y/L/N) out with minimal risk to them both."

"And we have useful quirks," Jirou supplied. "Kaminari can kill any power they have, Bakugou and Midoriya are good for taking stuff down, so are Kirishima and Sato. Todoroki is more than capable of restraining anyone that he comes across, and I can tell you where people are, how many and so on."

"Not to mention I can make communicators that are much harder to disconnect," Momo piped up.

"People don't really know about me yet," Shinso said, hands in his jeans pockets. "They don't know my quirk, so they're much more likely to fall for me, which is more than helpful for you, since it makes fighting back much less likely."

"We want to get her back, me more than anyone," Shouto said, arms crossed over his chest. "We can useful. Besides, I don't think I need to mention all the times that we've stepped in without your permission and gotten the objective completed while keeping everything legal."

Aizawa sighed.

"We really should just let them help," he said. "They're going to keep pushing, and I don't want any of them expelled and arrested. They are some of the best up and coming heroes. Besides, they all make good points."

"I feel the need to point out," Midoriya chimed in, "that the more of us you take, the more heroes you can have causing a distraction, or the more you can release to recharge and work on other things that are starting to take precedent, like the drug that the gang is manufacturing and selling."

There were more whispers, and finally the heroes sighed.

"Alright, but you're working with Eraserhead and Endeavor, since they're going to be leading the mission with Fatgum."

"We can work with that," Bakugou said. "But we want permission to engage if necessary."

"You would have that anyway," Fatgum said.

"We also want credit if we find her," Sero added. "We aren't going to let possible attackers think that we're defenseless. They take on one of us, they take on all of us."

"That can be discussed," Present Mic assured them.

"This should go without saying," Shouto began, "that I get to ride with her in the ambulance when we find her."

"Everyone assumed that anyway," Midnight told him. "Don't worry Todoroki, no one is going to keep you away from her."

Endeavor opened his mouth, but sharp looks from everyone had him shutting it again.

The students nodded.

"Now catch us up," Bakugou demanded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't remember when you had stopped processing things the proper way.

You couldn't remember a time before the nightmares.

They talked to you, they wanted you to know about an informant. Sometimes Shouto appeared, smiling and reaching his hands out to you. Sometimes your father walked in, drunk as always, shouting at you to do better.

You retreated in on yourself.

You turned to that small part of your brain that you had made to wait out the fighting, the yelling, the hurt. You retreated into the part of yourself that you knew no one could ever enter but you.

Shouto was there like he always was. He wasn't entirely your Shouto, but he wasn't the nightmare either.

He was a figment of your imagination, but he made things a little bit better.

"I'll come," he assured you. "I'll find you."

You were lying in a meadow, a small clearing surrounded by trees that were bent over you to create a small dome of shade.

"I know you will," you told him, reaching your hand out to him.

He touched his fingers to yours, but you couldn't feel it.

You remembered someone in the past calling it dissociating, but you weren't a professional yet.

You had never done it at U.A. since you had never felt the need, but this wasn't something that you would ever be able to forget how to do.

You could still see the nightmares, but it was like it was far away, background noise.

"Do you think that you'll ever go back?" Shouto asked. "Do you think that you'll ever go back to me?"

"Maybe, if the nightmares ever stop. If I think that it's actually you that I'm going back to," you said, watching him carefully.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?" Shouto inquired.

"Yeah. I said, 'I'll always come back to you'. Why are you asking me that?"

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"You said, 'Promise me you'll be safe?' I was about to go on the raid, and you were upset about not being able to go with me."

"Do you promise to remember that?" Shouto asked.

"Yeah, I promise," you told him, smiling a little.

"(Y/F/N)! Oh, darling, what did they do to you? (Y/F/N), can you hear me?"

The nightmare was getting better at looking like the real Shouto, and this one had the same voice.

"Go to him," the dream Shouto said, sitting up.

"Why?"

"(Y/F/N), blink if you can hear me," Shouto demanded.

You forced yourself to blink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shouto couldn't describe to absolute relief it was to see you blink.

He had seen the discarded cast off to the side of you, and he wasn't sure whether you would be able to hear him in that state.

"Hey darling, come on, we're gonna get you out of here, I promise," he murmured, touching your face lightly.

"Sh-Shouto," you rasped. "Shouto, wh-what was the last thing that you said to me?"

"Darling, don't try to speak," he told you, trying to figure out how to cut through the chains without hurting you.

"Shouto, what was the last thing that you said to me?" you asked again, reaching up to grab his hand.

"'Do you promise me that you'll be safe?'" he said, eyes roving over you to try and see any wounds. "That's what I said to you."

Your eyes widened in surprise before tears slipped out of your eyes.

"Sho, it really is you!"

"Darling, hey," he murmured, touching your face softly.

You were sobbing now, fully body sobs, and Shouto wanted so badly to take a moment to just relish in the fact that you were safe, but he had to get you out of there as soon as possilbe.

"Tsukuyomi," Shouto called. "Can Dark Shadow cut through chains?"

"Yes."

"I'm on the basement level of the building. I have Tempest, can you meet us down here?"

"On our way," Tokoyami assured him.

"Guys, I have her, she's in the basement with me, we're getting her out as we speak," Shouto declared over the coms, and he was met with cheers and relief that you were okay.

"How many of you are here?" you asked, wiping at your face.

"The whole class is here," Shouto told you. "Most of the hero agencies sent representatives that are here too."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, people were really upset that you were taken, especially with the role you played in apprehending Numeral gang members on the last raid, and the part you played in bringing the drug to light."

"Wow," you murmured, making Shouto laugh.

"Hold on just a little bit longer darling," he coaxed. "Our friends are on the way."

"I can't believe that it's really you," you whispered, touching his face softly, rubbing your thumb over his scar the way you did.

"Oh darling, what did they do to you?" he asked.

"For the past couple of days they've been trying to break me, they want to know who the undercover agent is. I don't know who it is though, so the leader of the Numerals used his quirk on me. He makes the drugs. His quirk makes you see things, makes you feel things. It's like he can burrow into your head and take the images out of your head."

You shuddered in his arms and he frowned as Tokoyami appeared in the doorway.

"Hello (Y/L/N)," he said, smiling at you.

"Hey little bird," you replied, your smile watery with emotions.

"Can Dark Shadow get through those chains?"

"Of course," Tokoyami told Shouto.

"Hello starlight," Dark Shadow said.

"Hi Dark Shadow," you murmured, stroking the sentinent creature before he tore through the chains like paper mache.

You rubbed at your wrists for a moment before you threw your arms around Shouto, burying your face in his neck.

"Sho," you sobbed, tears back full force.

"I've got you darling," he murmured. "I've got you. You're free, you're free."

You nodded, arms tight around him.

Shouto scooped you up, cradling you against his chest, letting you sob as much as you needed to.

The paramedics that had been called to the scene hadn't managed to get Shouto to let go of you, and you showed no signs of letting go of him, so they had managed to do everything they needed to with you clinging to him.

"She'll need physical therapy, not to mention professional trauma therapy. She's malnourished and dehydrated, not to mention suffering from exhaustion and a very severe concussion. Her ankle needs to be further inspected, and there's some internal damage, some cracked ribs that might need to be taken care of, but we can do some more thorough work at the hospital. I assume that you're coming with her?" the paramedic asked when he was finished.

"Yes, I'm her boyfriend," Shouto said.

"Alright, well, you have to let go of her so that we can get her hooked up to an IV and make sure that we don't make her concussion any worse. You really shouldn't have moved her, but there's only so much we can do about that now," the other paramedic told him.

"I-It's okay Shouto," you murmured, pulling away from him enough to wipe your face off.

Your breathing was ragged, and you looked like you wanted to go back to being unconscious, but you allowed the paramedics to get you onto an IV and a bed with a neck supporter.

"Shouto, will you stay with me?" you asked.

"Always darling," Shouto said, gripping your hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forthree weeks afterwards, you were stuck in the hospital. Your ankle hadn't been as bad as it had been feared, you back on your feet in a week, and you were undergoing physical therapy.

You were back to a normal diet, and you were going to therapy three times a week. Well, the shrink came to you, but semantics.

Your class visited every day, bringing you your homework and recorded lessons, most of them crying, and more than elated that you were back, safe.

Shouto, after being given permission by your parents, was being counted as a family member, and he had been practically living in the hospital with you.

For the first week, he had refused to leave your hospital room. He had slept curled around you, despite the machines that you had been hooked up to, he had missed class, staying with you and keeping you company.

There was also the reason of him being the only one to be able to calm you down after a nightmare.

There were nightmares where you woke up sweaty and nervous, asking the nurse on the night shift to light the candles that were all around your room.

But there were some that had you hurtling to the small bathroom in your room, hurling the contents of your stomach up. Then there were the ones that got so bad that you locked yourself in the bathroom, hiding yourself away in a corner until someone noticed and got a hold of Shouto.

They were getting better, and you were getting better about people coming up behind you, the touching.

For a few days after being admitted to the hospital, the only person who could touch you was Shouto.

Your mother had been heart broken every time you flinched away from her touches.

Your father had only come once, and he had been carried out by hospital staff after Shouto had tossed him out of your room.

You had retreated into yourself after that, and had come clean to Shouto about some of what had happened while you were being held hostage.

The therapy was helping, and so was the massive support that you were getting from the public and other heroes that had been in similar situations.

Your friends were very understanding of you not touching them as much anymore, and you and Bakugou were closer than ever, since he had experienced something similar.

Today was your first day back in the dorms, and you weren't going to lie to yourself, you were nervous.

The class had slowly starting moving all the gifts that you were receiving into your room, so you were only carrying a small bag.

"Shouto," you began. "You know that you can walk away if I get to be too much right?"

It had been bothering you for a while, that he had stayed with you for so long. It had bothered you that he had given up so much of his time for you, while getting very little from you in return.

"Why would I do that?" Shouto asked cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"I just mean that . . . well, I know that I haven't been the easiest girlfriend to have recently, and I . . . I have more issues than when we first started dating, and things have changed. I'm way more high maintenance than I was. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted a different girl-"

"Stop it right there," he demanded, turning to you.

His eyes were hard, despite his soft tone of voice.

"(Y/F/N), I don't want anyone other than you," he said. "I don't care if you wake me up at three in the morning screaming. I don't care if you sometimes have days where you feel like you can't say anything to me. I don't care if you have days where you can't get out of bed. I love you. I love you more than anything, and those things are not going to stop me from loving you.

"You are one of the strongest women in my life, and I am not letting you go because you have some issues. We've all got issues, hell, I have issues we haven't even touched on. Those things are just another part of you that I get to love. Alright?"

You nodded, blinking back tears.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" you asked softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He waited for a moment before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You weren't entirely sure why touch was such a problem for you now. Other than the injuries you had received during the fight, nothing had happened to you that would explain it, nothing you could remember anyway.

There had been some retrograde amnesia that went along with your kidnapping, though the doctors had assured you that those memories would come back with enough time.

And they had. There were still a few blank spots, but there weren't nearly as many as there had been.

"All the right things," he murmured, kissing your forehead hesitantly.

"I love you too Shouto," you told him.

He smiled softly at you, then turned towards the doors.

They opened, revealing your friends and a huge banner with your characterized face on it.

"Surprise!" they all said, though they didn't yell it like you had thought they would.

"Welcome home (Y/F/N)," Shouto said, sliding his arm around your shoulders as you both walked out.

Yeah, this was home.

[jade-parcels]

👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕

The bunnies’ other jobs!

From my bunny cafe au

((I am so peeved :((( I had this all written out!! And I deleted it by accident!! Darnnnnn!!!))

Anon asked “You mentioned that some of the bunnies have day jobs so do they all have jobs outside the cafe or just a few?” (Something along these lines…again…I deleted it by accident 😔)

👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕

Diluc/‘Angel’

After his father got bored with the wine industry, he passed the whole company off to Diluc on his 18th birthday in order to shift his focus to mining. Diluc found himself swamped with all kinds of business decisions while just barely being an adult. He expanded the company and hired some very trustworthy people to handle things for him so he could finish college

When the business was given to him, Diluc and Kaeya had an explosive fight over it. Kaeya felt like he deserved to have some say in what happens to the business, he’s still a part of the family! But Diluc refused to let him in on any decisions so Kaeya packed his bags and left (not before cussing him out in front of their father, staff and business partners). He was just in a silly, goofy mood. They’re fine now, not on the best terms but they do chat and meet up for lunch on occasion.

He is filthy rich, he couldn’t spend all of his all of his money if he tried, so he doesn’t really need the job at the cafe! Kaeya got him the job because he knew his brother was stuck in a weird, antisocial funk and needed some fun in his life

Diluc loves this job, he has a great time, but it isn’t his main job. His priority will always be the family business!! If he has to quit his job at the cafe, he would in a heartbeat

👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕

Kaeya

Kaeya was going to go into the police academy but was scouted out by a modeling agency. They had seen him at Ragnvindr company events and thought ‘well damn’ so they gave him a pretty generous deal

Kaeya makes a good living off of modeling, the tips and paycheck from the cafe. He rakes in cash pretty quickly just cause he knows how to get it. That, and his dad sends him checks every other month as well. Kaeya thinks of it as ‘I’m sorry’ money. He isn’t wrong

He doesn’t travel much for modeling, which he doesn’t mind, so he kinda just hangs around the city with a lot of free time on his hands between photo shoots. That’s why he got this job at the cafe! It gives him something to do and it’s fun as hell ;)

Albedo

Bedo is one busy bunny. He finished college early and is getting his masters degree online. He works most days at the cafe and on the weekends, he tutors other college students in bio/chem/science related subjects

(He was actually Xiao’s tutor back when he was failing chemistry!! Xiao is very thankful for Albedo’s help!!)

His dream is to become a biochemist, he’s always been interested in cells and what makes up living beings. So having a career in that field would make him the happiest man alive

His mother and sister live outside the city in a more rural area so he spends a lot of time FaceTiming the two of them! Klee is always so excited to hear about Albedo’s experiments or the people he’s met while working in such a bustling, fun city :)

Zhongli

Zhongli is a simple man! He’s a bunny waiter and an artist

He creates intricate pieces based on folklore from different cultures, focusing mostly on dragons. His favorite medium is paint, he loves painting on glass and layering the panes in order to create a 3D piece

He sells his works to galleries, shops and anyone who wants them! As long as they appreciate the story behind the artwork. Sadly…He undersells his work. He could def be making more money but he just does not desire money or material goods the way others may

So he got his job at the cafe in order to help out his dear friend Ningguang, not for money, he only planned on working there for a month or two until she got more bunnies but…he ended up really loving the people he works with :’) he looks forward to working with them now and texts/calls them outside of work to meet up for lunch or bowling (such an old man thing to do omfg)

Dainsleif/‘Sweetie’

Dain was a bouncer at another bar before leaving to come to Celestia’s! He’s good friends with Beidou, they belong to the same motorcycle club so when she was talking to him about the lack of security at the cafe/bar, he stepped in to help out

Little did he know…he’d actually become a bunny…And like it

This is his full time job now, he doesn’t have another for the time being. While he is a bunny at the cafe, he still keeps an eye out for any threats to his coworkers and has access to the offices upstairs (Ningguang’s office and the security office)

When he isn’t waiting tables, he’s upstairs in a tank top and sweatpants keeping an eye on the security cameras and talking to the other security guards through their ear pieces

Ajax

Ajax is a student who doesn’t really have much time on his hands

He mows lawns in the summer and he’s quit his job as a cashier to come work at the cafe! He mostly works night shifts his cause he’s still going to school aaaaaand he’s on his college’s swim team! He’s about to graduate so he works close with his coach to help train the others on the team

He doesn’t really want his family knowing that he skips around in a skimpy bunny outfit and fucking customers most nights but I mean…They’re bound to find out if they see him in pictures people post

Xiao/‘Tofu’

Xiao is an art student!! He wants to be a tattoo artist :)

He’s already got one sleeve of tattoos, it’s unfinished but you can’t really tell just by looking. When he isn’t at the cafe, he’s either in class or shadowing Ganyu, his best friend and tattoo artist. Their art styles greatly differ, she focuses her craft on cutesy, colored tattoos, but she is skilled. And Xiao looks up to her

Xiao admires Zhongli too, they met at the cafe and when Zhongli found out Xiao wants to be a tattoo artist he told him that once he’s licensed, he wants to get a tattoo from him :’)

Baizhu/‘Honey’

Baizhu is a (mostly) full time pharmacist, hence why he isn’t usually at the cafe

He also has a niece, Qiqi, who he babysits often. He loves her very much so he has no problem watching her! Baizhu will even bring her to the pharmacy with him when he’s swamped with work. In the break room, he has a play kitchen, coloring books and a bunch of puzzles to keep Qiqi occupied while he works :)

When he’s not at work, he’s at home resting. He has chronic pain flare ups in his back and shoulders that can make life miserable :( he has plenty of good days that outweigh the bad! And as a pharmacist, he has access to any medicine he needs to make his life easier!

Dottore(Alain)/‘Doc’

Alain’s an oral surgeon who’s a little bit….too into his job

He isn’t phased by blood or gore so he’s easily able to conduct procedures that would make other squeamish. He’ll pull teeth, put in dental implants, remove rotten tissue, any of that without even flinching

Outside of that, he works at the cafe. He wears a mask in order to avoid being recognized even though at his job as a surgeon, he’s usually wearing a medical mask anyways. It’s just a precaution

This has nothing to do with his career but he used to be a tap dancer and actor so he’d join in on local theatre shows! He helped build sets when he wasn’t rehearsing. He doesn’t have time for that anymore (which kinda makes him sadddd) but he has all kinds of theatre playlists on his phone and in his car that he’ll sing along to

Scaramouche/‘Boss’

Scara’s job at the cafe is his main job! His side job is something you may not expect from such a grump

He works at an animal shelter! In fact, he brings cats home to train so they have an increased chance of being adopted. Someone is more likely to adopt a potty trained, socialized cat than a feral cat who doesn’t know what a litter box is. So Scara brings them to his apartment for some one-on-one socializing, training and cuddling

One time he offhandedly mentioned working at an animal shelter while he was working at the cafe and sure enough, three separate customers from the cafe came by to adopt!!! Only one actually took an animal home but he was still surprised that those people had listened to him and cared enough to come by

Scara is a jerk most of the time but when he’s at home…by himself…With a lil kitten sleeping in his lap while he plays games on his PC…Yeah, he softens up a bit

So as you can see, we have a very diverse group working at the cafe! They’ve all learned a lot from each other, come to appreciate each other’s friendship and come to help each other out when one of their coworkers is in need or upset.

[ptergwen]

only you and me

w/c: 6.7k

warnings: angst, mentions of weed, and some swearing

summary: whenever peter tries to tell you how he feels, harry gets in the way

a/n: ahhhh hi my loves! my mini writing break is over :,) life has been just a mess for me and i’ve been way more critical than usual about my work but i’m doing a little better and ready to get back into everything! this helped me a lot so i’m excited to share it with y’all <3 it’s also my first time writing harry osborn so lmk how i did lmaooofwfjj but yeah pls enjoy

-

“dude, she’s right there! just tell her!” ned whisper yells to peter, elbowing him for emphasis. they’re hidden behind a wall to watch you at your locker. you’re grabbing books while betty rants to you and mj rolls her eyes. “not now. she looks... busy,” peter gulps, gaze trailing down your body. he always finds excuses to put off telling you how he feels.

or rather, excuses find him. something comes up every time he gets the courage to do it. he has no idea why he’s so scared because he’s pretty sure you like him back. pretty sure. there are a few reasons why you might not. also, plenty why you might. you stay up late texting most nights, and you’ve even flirted a couple of times. it never fails to make peter blush. he trips over his words whenever he tries to flirt back.

he’s had feelings for you since the first time you two hung out alone. none of your other friends could make it, but you happily took him up on his offer to come over. you grinned through his whole apartment tour, asked about may and what she does. when peter showed you his room, you even complimented his movie posters, much to his surprise.

“really? you don’t think they’re, like, dorky?”

“no, peter. your interests aren’t dorky. everyone likes what they like.”

and, he liked you. he knew it from that point on. you’d know it too if the universe wouldn’t keep stopping him from saying that.

“she’s so...” peter pauses for a second. him and ned watch you pull betty in by her shoulders as if you’re going to kiss her. she dodges you, mj pushing her back, all three of you giggling about it before you grab betty’s hands and give her words of encouragement. “cool,” peter finishes, turning back to ned. “i mean, how she puts herself out there like that.”

“what’s stopping you from doing the same thing?” ned points out with a knowing smile that peter returns. you make it look so easy. whenever you’re comfortable around people, you can let go of any doubts you have. you stop worrying about what they might think and instead do what you want. it’s inspiring to peter, and heart warming getting to be one of the people you’re fully you with.

he wishes he could apply your wisdom himself.

peter shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “oh, you know. anxiety, fear of rejection. that fun stuff.” “so, yourself,” ned concludes, clapping peter’s backpack so hard it makes him stumble forward. betty and mj wave goodbye to you before heading to their first class. you’re still getting your things together at your locker. this is peter’s moment.

“come on, dude! y/n’s not busy anymore. you got this.” ned keeps his hand on peter’s back, adding on, “it’s been a year already.” “half a year,” peter corrects him in a mumble. he’s liked you for a really long time. “ok, i’m going. wish me luck.” he takes a deep breath and focuses in on you. “aw, dude. you don’t need it.” ned gives him one last pat on the back. “good luck, though.” “thanks, man. see you in trig.”

right as peter starts heading over, harry comes up behind you and covers your eyes. you squeal, jumping up and turning to him, laughing as you playfully hit at his chest. he brings you into a hug where your face is buried in his sweater and probably inhaling his super strong, super expensive cologne.

that’s what’s stopping peter, harry freaking osborn. his own friend.

peter quickly loses the tiny bit of confidence ned gave him. he figures it might be better to hold off on his confession and get an early start to class. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. harry has already spotted him and calls him over.

“hey, pete! come give us some love, eh?” harry beams, an arm slung around your shoulders and you smiling up at him. you direct your smile to peter when he slumps his way to your locker. his lips pull into a barely noticeable frown. you notice. “there’s my guy. why so down, sunshine?” harry offers his fist for a fist bump. peter gives it to him, eyes staying on you.

harry osborn. where to begin with such a specimen? he’s the perfect combination of everything you’d want in a guy. he gets good grades, he’s a star player on on the basketball team, nice to everyone and makes you laugh, popular yet fits right into your small group.

he was friends with you before the popular thing. what kicked it off was him making varsity basketball while only being a sophomore. yep, he’s unreal. since then, he’s been balancing his cool life and also hanging with “the nerds,” as he likes to call you. he got his own feelings for you along the way. peter can tell.

he’ll give you rides home, compliment how you look, basically act like your boyfriend without really being it. it absolutely infuriates peter because he doesn’t compare to harry in the slightest. if he were you and had the choice between himself or harry, he would pick harry.

it’s been a factor in why he hasn’t come clean about how he feels yet. he’s not trying to create a love triangle that he doesn’t stand a chance surviving in.

“for real, peter. you good?” you ask him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “fine,” peter lies and musters up a smile. “i’m just tired. didn’t sleep too good last night.” you’re only more concerned now. this has been happening to him a lot lately. you search for his eyes. “again?”

“aw, man. you need something for it?” harry punches peter’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “i know this kid who-“ “harry, stop.” your words are serious, tone lighthearted. you throw your head back on his arm. “do you really know a kid?” “i’m not telling you,” he says in an overly happy voice, you humming the same way. peter feels like he’s third wheeling.

“i was telling pete.” harry looks at him expectantly, peter’s mouth dropping open while he thinks of what to say. harry likes to mess around. this is a different level, though. “no thanks. i- i shouldn’t. i’m-“ “relax, i don’t know a kid,” harry chuckles and points at peter. “your face right now.” it’s completely flushed. you knock into harry’s side.

“ok, well literally no one laughed. you’re scaring him,” you tell harry sternly. peter tugs tight on one of his backpack straps. he doesn’t feel like he’s third wheeling you two now. he feels like your kid. he’ll never let ned mettle in his love life ever again if this is where it gets him. “he knows i’m kidding, y/n/n. right?” harry checks with peter. you make a face at him that says you aren’t convinced.

he switches his arm from you to peter, drawing him into his side. “look, pete. i’m sorry. the only kid i know who’s selling is chocolates for his band trip.” you’re satisfied with that, grinning at both of them. peter forces a laugh and nods. “no worries, man. i gotta get to class.” “good boy,” harry lets him go. “bye, pete. we’ll see you at lunch,” you remind him. he gives you a tight lipped smile. “see you, y/n/n.”

you and harry continue practically spooning each other as soon as peter is out of sight.

what the hell is going on?

peter is back to being grumpy, plopping down in his seat next to ned. their teacher has the lesson plan pulled up on the smart board. ned looks from it to peter, almost jumping in his seat. “oh, you’re back already? how’d it go?” “it didn’t go,” peter huffs, copying down the aim. he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look ned in the eyes while telling him he bailed. again.

“you didn’t do it?” ned repeats, peter writing something about pi and a unit circle in his notebook. he bites the inside of his cheek. “you have to do it at some point,” ned sighs out and picks up his pencil. even he’s getting tired of this, and ned never gets tired of a good friends to lovers moment. “i think she likes harry,” peter says under his breath. “huh?” ned gasps.

peter doesn’t feel like explaining the extremely awkward moment he just finished living. although, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. “y/n. he came over, and they kept hugging and whatever.” “they always do that,” ned almost scoffs, their trigonometry teacher moving to stand in front of the class. “yeah, but he had his arm around her the whole time we-“

the bell rings and cuts their conversation short. peter struggles to label the unit circle they learn about when his mind is filled to its capacity with images of you and harry all over each other. it’s not daydreaming. this is a nightmare. maybe, he actually will be having sleep problems.

peter’s morning is relatively decent after that. he gets to do an experiment with mj in chemistry, and she lets him take the lead for once. spanish is easy, health is okay, then he has a free period, then it’s lunch. things can only go downhill from here.

he thinks about hiding in the library until it’s over, but it’s the thought of harry eating your face that gets him to drag himself to the cafeteria.

flash is at the head of your table talking to harry when peter gets there. great, now he can’t eat his soggy chicken fingers in peace. “sounds dope. let’s go on the-“ flash stops saying what he was saying and nods at peter. “penis parker, you’re late.” peter takes his seat on your left, harry on your right. you glance over at him to make sure he’s okay. he acts like he doesn’t care, peeling open his milk carton.

“just text me later, man. get outta here,” harry dismisses flash, the two of them doing a bro handshake before he leaves. he’s well aware of his and peter’s history. he keeps them separate for the obvious reasons. peter appreciates it because saying no to flash is nearly impossible. he shouldn’t be so mad at harry, should he? he’s a good friend.

harry’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer to him. never mind.

“who’s up for sushi later?” he asks the table, everyone agreeing and saying how awesome that sounds. everyone except peter. you tap his shoulder with a small smile. “what about you, peter? you coming?” he realizes you’re all waiting for him to respond and puts down his milk. “uh, i can’t. homework,” he lamely answers.

“dude, we have homework, too. just do it a little later,” ned suggests, betty laying her head on his shoulder. you share a look with her, your eyes wide and a grin on your lips. that must have been what you were talking about this morning. she asked for boy advice. ned advice. why can’t this crap work out for peter?

“i really can’t. sorry, guys,” peter half heartedly apologizes.

he misses the disappointment that crosses your features because he’s pouting at his lunch again.

“homework, huh?” mj tests him, squinting as she takes a sip of apple juice. harry nudges peter’s side with two fingers. “you still mad about the sleeping thing?” “sleeping thing? what sleeping thing?” betty wonders while ned rests his head against hers. a quiet laugh slips out of you as you lean in to tell her.

“peter said he couldn’t sleep last night, so harry offered him...” you mime rolling a joint. “i said no,” peter clarifies, rolling his eyes at the inevitable teasing he’s about to get. none of you have even smoked besides harry. you’re being annoying about it. “of course you did,” mj sighs and kicks her feet up on the table. “unrelated to what y/n just said... harry, i have insomnia.”

everyone bursts into laughter at that, betty shoving her side and you pulling harry by his torso as he pretends to go into his backpack. peter wants nothing to do with any of this. he usually enjoys joking around with the group, even if it’s at his expense because it’s from a place of love.

today feels like you’re straight up making fun of him. harry might as well invite flash to join in.

“alright, alright, alright. enough of the weed talk,” harry decides, you removing your arms from him and grabbing your coffee. “you’re such a bad influence.” your voice drips with sarcasm. you bend the straw and take a sip while scooting closer to peter. “you really can’t come later? i feel like i’ve barely seen you today.” that’s on harry. “i wish i could, y/n/n,” peter exhales. “i’ll text you later, okay?”

you don’t get to answer because mj tugs on your arm, distracting you from peter. she explains how she has to do an art project on what it means to be a woman and needs help brainstorming ideas. you’re full of them, offering up an interesting perspective for her to use. peter smiles to himself as he listens in. you find a new way to impress him every day.

he should tell you that.

“hey, y/n?” “listen to her! you’re seriously my idol,” betty gushes, so loudly you don’t hear peter. not a single thing has gone in his favor at this table. he gives up.

peter locks himself in his room when he gets home from his overall terrible day. he does homework like he said he would, only taking a break for dinner, giving one word replies to may’s questions about school. he’d much rather be having sushi with you. he would’ve gone if the others didn’t.

after dinner, it’s back to grumbling and scribbling down answers. there’s a knock at peter’s door around ten o’clock, which he assumes is may saying goodnight. “i’ll be done in a few minutes, may! love you.” “it’s y/n,” you reply, the smile clear in your voice. his eyes go comically wide. that’s the last thing he expected to hear. “oh. uh, come in.”

you’re holding a small takeout bag, shutting the door behind you and walking over to his desk. you meet his twinkling eyes in the dim light that hits off his walls. from his open window, you faintly hear cars as they rush by and honk their horns in the distance, accompanied by a fresh breeze. it’s cozy, safe. it’s peter.

“hey. what’re you doing here?” peter questions, leaving his pencil in his binder and shutting it. you shake around the plastic bag. “i saved you a roll.” he bites back a smile, getting up from his chair. “may let me in. she was really chill about it,” you continue and hold out the sushi for him. “it’s a california roll. i wasn’t sure what you wanted, and everyone likes those.”

peter lets his smile spread out and takes the bag from you. “thanks, y/n/n. i was honestly hoping one of you would have leftovers.” you laugh softly, peter setting the bag down on his desk. he scratches the back of his neck. “did you guys have fun?” “yeah. i missed you, though.” you clasp your hands behind your back. “everyone did.”

“i feel bad i didn’t go. just... things felt off today,” peter admits the real reason he stayed home, you letting out a breath. “it was harry, wasn’t it? god, he was being so weird.” your arms drop back to your sides. “there’s a difference between playing around and actually upsetting people.” by people, you mean peter. no one else seemed too bothered by him. “i’m sorry, peter. i tried to make him stop.”

“no, you don’t have to apologize,” peter assures you sweetly, grabbing one of your hands. “it’s not your fault, okay? he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. the jokes landed.” he’s referring to ned, mj, and betty finding harry’s comments hilarious. you lace your fingers with peter’s and frown. “this isn’t like him. maybe he’s stressed about a game.” your gaze drifts off to the side, what you see getting you to perk up.

“is that new?” you ask peter, leading him by his hand over to a poster he put up recently. it’s for 13 going on 30. you showed it to him a couple of weeks ago, and he clearly liked it a lot. any movie that makes it to peter’s wall is a special one. “mhm. i got it literally right after you went home the night we watched,” he chuckles and looks over at you while you study the poster.

you turn to face peter again, keeping your hand tight in his. “were you gonna tell me something earlier? at lunch?” he’s confused for a second, then he remembers your ideas for mj’s art project. the fact that you cared enough to bring it up after all these hours makes his stomach do summersaults in the best way. he shrugs and gives you a smile.

“the stuff you were saying about femininity and how there are so many ways to define it,” peter starts, you grinning back at him, at how he took an interest in what you were saying. “you’re so smart, y/n. you make me wanna be better.” a light pink dusts his cheeks. “peter, you’re a feminist?” you coo, joking but genuinely wondering at the same time. he squeezes your hand. “duh.”

“i thought so,” you nod, taking in the rest of what he said. “you think i’m smart? i trust you because you’re way smarter.” peter pffts in response. “i’m only good at, like, physics. you’re good at things that really matter. smart in that way.” you’re feeling your own face get hot. you swing yours and peter’s hands back and forth. “why are you the nicest person ever?”

the answer to that, may, peeks her head into the room. “hey, kids. it’s getting late.” she notices your intertwined hands and shoots peter a smirk. “i thought you were a cool aunt,” he teases, you sadly letting go of him. “she is. thanks for having me over so late,” you tell may on your way to the door. “oh, stop it. you can come over any time.” she puts a hand on your arm. “thank you so much,” you murmur back.

you walk backwards to the doorway, may leaving you two to say your goodbyes. “wanna hang out only you and me? on friday maybe?” that should make up for everything earlier. “yeah, of course. friday is perfect,” peter agrees and bounces on his feet as excitement takes over him. “thanks again for the sushi.”

“no problem. goodnight.” it’s taking every last bit of power in you to not freak out. ��night. text me when you get home.” he presses his tongue into his cheek. you slowly pull the door shut. “ok, i will. bye!” it closes, leaving peter skipping across his room to his bed on one side and you doing a little happy dance on the other.

the next day at school, everything is back to normal. honestly, better than normal. your hangout with peter is tomorrow, and he’s planning on telling he likes you then. he already talked it over with ned. he’s relieved it’s finally happening, especially since him and betty have their own thing. she’ll be taking up most of his free time from here.

your group is spending lunch outside today, lounging across a picnic table, surrounded by trees and the shining sun in a bright blue sky. mj sits on the table and has her feet on the bench, which would usually bug peter to no end. he doesn’t mind this time because it takes up enough room that harry has to sit with ned and betty instead of you. you lean into peter’s side and stab a piece of lettuce from your salad.

“it’s so nice out,” betty sighs, ripping off half her cookie and giving it to ned. “we should ditch.” “oh my god, you sound like harry,” you groan between bites of salad. peter lets out a breathy laugh, you looping your arm through his. he grins down at where you’re linked. harry crosses his own arms over his chest. “she wishes.” betty only nods because her mouth is full of m&m’s.

“nah, seriously. i’d take us out somewhere, but i have practice after school.” he speaks quieter than he normally does, less confident. your theory about him having basketball drama was right. “what did we tell you? talk about the sports shit with your sports friends,” mj complains, sitting back on her hands. she glances at harry over her shoulder and catches ned mouthing you can’t say that.

sitting criss cross, she spins around to face harry, unenthusiastically saying, “what i meant was, you sound upset. what’s wrong?” harry gets into it right away, like he’s been waiting for someone to ask. “coach says there might be a scout at the next game. it’s a really good opportunity even though i don’t have to worry about... college yet.” the word makes him cringe.

“oh, damn. that’s a big deal. scary,” mj snorts, turning back to you and peter. her behavior makes ned internally face palm. “that’s awesome, dude. you’re gonna play amazing like always.” he gives harry a high five, who smiles nervously in response. he’s never nervous. “thanks, bro. you guys wanna come and watch?” he’s never invited you to one of his games before either.

this isn’t a group of friends that likes to spend their weekends in bleachers while angry teens shout around them.

“definitely. we’ll be there to support you, harry,” betty answers for everyone, ned pecking her cheek in satisfaction. mj cusses to herself before replying. “if i absolutely must, sure.” only you and peter haven’t said anything yet. he’s been chewing his lower lip, and you your salad. harry looks between you two hopefully. it’s more so at you, which peter doesn’t like.

“y/n? pete? it would help a lot, i’m serious.” he taps his fingers on the table until one of you speaks up. you’re the one who does. “i’ll go. this is pretty huge, right? congrats.” you reach across the table and squeeze his shoulder while simultaneously tightening your arm around peter’s. he takes that as a cue. “i’ll go, too. happy for you, man.”

though peter isn’t currently in the best place with harry, he should show his support by showing up. it can’t be too bad since the rest of you will be there.

a loud, long chuckle leaves harry as he hops up from his bench and comes to yours and peter’s. he bends over and wraps both of you in a hug from behind at the same time. his arms are around each of your shoulders, holding you so close his cheeks are squished against either of your heads. you giggle at that, peter finding himself laughing along and reaching back to ruffle harry’s hair.

staying mad at him is one of the world’s greatest challenges.

“you’re saints, both of you. my angels.” he kisses the back of your head, then lays one right on peter’s cheek, leaving him blushing red and grinning. “what about the rest of us? i never go to shit like this,” mj huffs and seems genuinely offended. harry wiggles his eyebrows. “you want a kiss?” his offer gets her flustered, which she can’t manage to hide. that’s a first.

“shut up. i’m just saying... never mind.” mj glares at you and peter, ned and betty making kissing noises behind her. “someone change the subject.” peter steps in. “when’s the game, harry?” he asks, harry snapping and waving his finger. “tomorrow! cancel your plans, kiddos.” “like we had any,” betty retorts.

some of you did. that was going to be peter’s hangout with you.

ned smiles sympathetically at peter before betty is getting his attention. you‘re unfazed and rambling to harry how proud you are of him.

did last night mean nothing? was it an empty gesture? were you only doing it out of guilt? peter must have read your visit wrong. he’s been wrong the whole time he’s liked you. you don’t like him back, you pity him. harry is who you’re really interested in.

may always says he should trust his instincts.

peter pulls his arm from yours suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. you’re taken back because it’s so out of no where. you stop talking to harry so you can figure out his deal. “where are you going?” “bell’s gonna ring,” peter mumbles and picks up his lunch tray. he heads to the garbage can without another word or goodbye to anyone.

“i’m gonna go check on him,” you tell harry, already getting up from the bench. “you do that,” he acknowledges and calls mj’s name again.

peter tosses his mostly untouched food in the trash, seeing you make your way over from the corner of his eye. he tries to speed walk inside so he doesn’t have to talk to you. you’re too quick, cornering him between the door and brick wall.

“we still have ten minutes,” you state, worry flashing across your face. he’s avoiding you. well, attempting to. “what’s wrong?” peter gulps before saying anything. “my next class is on the other side of the-“ “no,” you cut him off. “what’s really wrong?”

he doesn’t feel like having this discussion. it’s bad enough he came to the realization his feelings are one sided. must he break that down for you so soon?

you toy with your sleeve while you speak because peter doesn’t. “i thought you and harry were fine again. i mean, he kissed you.” peter clenches his jaw so hard he can imagine the sound of it cracking. “it’s not about harry.” “what, then? what the fuck happened?” your sleeves are now balled in your fists. you hate it when peter does this angsty routine.

he keeps his voice low and calm so he doesn’t come off as jealous or hurt. he’s both of those things. “the game is tomorrow. friday. when we were supposed to hang out.” you meet peter’s eyes with nothing but remorse in yours. “i... i forgot,” is all you have to say.

you feel awful. he’s had a tough couple of days, and you fell through on your promise to cheer him up.

“clearly,” peter remarks, voice sharp. the way you’re looking at him makes him think he won’t like what’s coming. “peter, we have to go,” you almost whine. “i’m really sorry, i am, but this is a big night for harry. he needs us there.” peter stays silent. you’re twisting the knife deeper into him with every word. “i wouldn’t be cancelling if this wasn’t important.”

now you’re cancelling?

you reach for peter’s hand, but he shoves it into his pocket. that stings for you and him. “please, peter. we’ll hang out at the game, i swear.” this is the last chance you’ve got, so you pile it on. “harry won’t even be there, technically. he’ll... he’ll be on the court.” peter hadn’t thought about that. he lets himself unclench, starting to see the appeal. you add one more thing to lighten the mood and persuade him.

“i’ll buy you popcorn, all you can eat.” it’s that easy. cracking a smile, peter accepts. he’ll deal with his unresolved, unreciprocated feelings after he stuffs his face, courtesy of you. “you better. i’m gonna need it for this long ass game.” your face lights up, grabbing his wrist in both hands.

“so, you’ll come?” “i’ll be there,” he confirms. you throw your arms around his neck. he laughs into the hug and holds you by your middle. “i promise this’ll be the first and last game we ever go to,” you say and mean it. harry is lucky you’re even suffering through this a first time. “thank god,” peter exhales, resting his chin on your head.

that interaction leaves peter confused as hell. you’re crushing his mind and soul one minute, then hugging him the next. you were making him feel so special lasts night, and treating harry the same way today. it’s so jumbled that he isn’t sure if he’s in the friend zone or something more zone.

there are a ton of mixed signals coming his way, and he sucks at reading people as is.

he can’t take another second of this. he’d rather you come out and say you like harry already because it’s torture. knowing you don’t want him in that way would at least eliminate the possibility of anything happening between you two, and allow him to stop driving himself insane.

he’d be able to stop taking it out on harry, too.

the hold you have on peter, that you’re oblivious to, rules his every thought and decision. he’s constantly analyzing what you say to him, debating whether or not your affection is simply platonic. it’s been half a year of this madness, the night of harry’s game blurring every line so much more.

your group arrives a bit early to find seats and hype harry up before he plays. peter gets there after all of you because he’s not exactly in a rush to watch sweaty guys be aggressive. there’s only one upside, which is spending the night with you... and everyone else.

he steps into the gym that’s filling up fast with family members, friends, and the college scout harry was talking about. midtown has a different feeling to it at night. the smell of pencils is oddly stronger, and it’s a lot less intimidating.

cheerleaders are huddled in a circle while the team supervisor has them run their chants. the “leading official,” who peter thought was called a referee, takes his place off to the side. coaches give their players last minute instructions, players fool around with each other, a lot is going on.

peter scans the room for you, and grins a toothy grin when you catch his eyes. you’re sitting by yourself in one of the middle bleachers, only a bag of skinny pop in your lap. you return the smile once you spot him and wave him over.

“i don’t know why, but i thought they’d have an actual concession stand,” you explain the lack of fresh, buttery popcorn as peter takes a seat next to you. he catches the prepackaged bag you toss him. “it’s just a snack table.” “works either way,” peter hums and pokes the bag. “i’m not sure skinny pop is all i can eat, though.” “it’s good!” you defend the snack you chose for him.

“i’m kidding! you’re right, it’s kind of addicting.” he puts it by his feet for now and gives you a half smile. “you’re welcome,” you deadpan in a playful tone. “thanks.” he narrows his eyes. “where’s everyone else?” “right,” you twist around and gesture to the bleacher above you. mj is gloomily seated near the back. ned and betty are a few behind you.

“i told them to find their own seats so we can sit together, alone.” you look over at peter and move ever so slightly closer. “welcome to our friday hangout. just the two of us.” “aw, you didn’t have to do that,” peter laughs out, his knee bumping yours. “but, i’m happy you did.” he goes to put an arm around you, then harry comes racing up the stairs.

just the two of you didn’t last so long.

“y/n, i’m freaking out,” harry announces, zooming through your row to get over to you. he stops once he’s standing in front of peter and shakes him by his shoulder. “hey, pete. you made it.” “yup,” peter replies, pressing his lips together. you wince at his reaction, then quirk an eyebrow at harry. “you’re freaking out? why?”

harry sits down between you and peter, blissfully unaware of the moment he interrupted.

“i found the scout. he’s fucking terrifying as fuck. this super ripped guy, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” he talks quietly, like the man will hear him. “he’s not the only one,” peter says to himself, kicking around his bag of popcorn to pass time. you ignore him and grimace.

“shit. wait, how do you know it’s him? did they tell you?” you’re not sure how these things go. harry casually shrugs a shoulder. “dude has a clipboard. seems legit to me.” he gives you a cocky smile. “he’s also in the row before mj. that’s how i noticed. um...” his back now facing peter, he whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle.

peter’s face scrunches up as the spark of anger the past few days have lit reignites itself.

when harry pulls away, you motion for him to come closer with your index finger, cupping your hand around his ear and speaking into it.

nope, no more. peter is entirely about to explode. you cancelled your plans so you can force him to watch basketball, you sweet talk him so he’ll let it go, and you’re running right back to harry after all of that? what the hell does that mean?

peter stands up from his seat. “y/n, we need to talk,” he demands, you moving away from harry to respond. “ok, gimme a minute. we’re-“ “no, we need to talk now.” you don’t have time to refute because he’s taking your arm and dragging you away. harry squints at you in utter confusion.

“um, have a good game! we’ll talk later,” you call back to him, walking with peter even though you have no idea what his issue is and aren’t a fan of how he’s acting.

he releases you once you’re in the hallway. you make a point of harshly yanking your arm back, a scowl painting your lips. “jesus, peter. i was having a conversation.” “do you like harry?” peter blurts out. you’re so shocked at his abruptness that you don’t give him much to work with, only, “what?” “do you like harry?” he asks you again, this time less accusing and more curious.

“do i like...” you’re too aware of the seemingly hundreds of people surrounding you to answer comfortably. “can we talk about this somewhere else?” “sure,” peter nods, letting you lead the way since he did to get out here. you two go down the hall and choose the first room you see, which happens to be the custodian’s closet. it’s thankfully unlocked.

things were tense between you and peter on the way over, and it’s physically mirrored when you step into the room, air thick and smelling of lemon cleaning supplies. you tug on the string hanging down to turn on the light. it casts a faded glow, leaving you in mostly darkness. you sort of like it. this feels more intimate, which is fitting for what you’re both about to say.

neither one of you knows where to begin. peter’s question is ringing in the back of your mind, and you could touch on that, but there’s more to it than a simple yes or no. you don’t have to worry about it because peter gets his words out first.

“i think harry likes you, and i think you like him back,” peter restarts, already sounding deflated by what he came up with. “he doesn’t, and i don’t.” you take a step towards him. “he likes mj.” it’s peter’s turn to be shocked. the hint of a smile sets on your lips. “that’s what we were talking about. harry asked if he should take her to dinner after the game, and i said yes.”

this is going better than he expected.

“mj is the one who likes him, not me,” you reiterate and watch some life enter peter again, a tiny bit. he’s coming around, and he wants to believe you. his trust issues don’t. “but, you’re so... touchy with each other. the hugging the other day?” he mentions. you tilt your head to the side in amusement. “friends can’t hug?”

to be fair, you hugged peter yesterday. that’s a point rightfully shut down.

“he calls you pretty,” peter tries, raising both eyebrows. you have to laugh at this one. “you call may pretty.”

obviously, peter’s analysis skills could use some serious improvements. it sounds like he had the right idea, wrong person. your relationship with harry is platonic. hell, he’s crushing on a whole different person. this actually opens up the possibility of you liking peter in the romantic way, of him being in the something more zone. he had it backwards.

in case peter isn’t convinced yet, and because you really want to, you use one more trick to prove to him you don’t like harry.

“do me and harry do this?” your lips speak for you, colliding with peter’s unexpectedly yet easily. he feels like he’s floating, like he’s in some sort of magical wonderland until it hits him that this is real, and he should probably kiss you back. he does so softly and tangles his fingers in your locks. his hand supports the back of your head as the kiss goes on.

you push forward so your bodies are almost fused together, the closest you can be while you hold his jaw. peter breaks the kiss for a short breather, going back in without more than a moment passing. this one is feverish, his free arm looping around your lower back, hand resting on the small of it. you let out a giggle against his swollen lips and stroke your thumb over his jawline.

he’s been waiting to do this for the longest time, but he doesn’t have to tell you that. it shows in how eager he was to reciprocate, his shyness blossoming into passion. you feel yourself melting under his touch, the kiss eventually becoming a series of short pecks. peter gives you the final one. his pink lips form a grin when you pull apart. your hands stay on each other, not in a rush to go anywhere.

“woah, i like you so much,” peter laughs out. the words roll off his tongue naturally. “you know i like you,” you drawl, smiling at him, a full body smile while you caress his skin. he winds both arms around you and dips his head down to steal another kiss. you’re loving what’s happening. however, you don’t feel like making out while dirty brooms stare at you. you should take this back home.

“wanna get out of here? i do,” you suggest, voice muffled from his lips. they detach from yours and brush your cheek gently. peter makes a funny face. “hm, i thought we had to come. harry needs us,” he says what you did yesterday, earning a groan back. “you’re joking.” “i’m not. what kind of friends would we be, ditching him like that?”

he’s going to end you one day.

“yeah, no. i have no idea how basketball works, and i’d like to keep it that way,” peter drops the act, pressing his fingers into your sides. “i’ve been so mean to harry. i was...” “a dick?” you finish for him. it’s more of a statement than a question. to soften the blow, you rub his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “yup. he’s gonna think i hate him or something if we don’t stay.” his formerly smiley face is frowning.

“harry of all people will understand after we tell him our reasons,” you reassure him, nudging under his chin with your nose. “besides, he has other things to worry about. mj, the scout. it’s fine.” peter considers it, ultimately giving in to you like he always does, resting his forehead on yours. “i guess so. less distractions for him, yeah.” “exactly. that’s what i wanna hear.”

having his approval, you unwind yourself from him and head to the door. his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “what about my popcorn?” a giggle escapes your lips. “you’re still on that?” “you said all i can eat!” his voice comes out high pitched, adorably high pitched.

“fine. i might have those bags you put in the microwave.” you smile when his fingers lock with yours, peter kissing the side of your head.

“even better. let’s go home.”

[goddessofroyalty]

*Throws a fic promt from the void*

Vander finding another pup (Mylo) and Silco having to nurse another slightly older pup because of it while Vander wonders if his ever gonna have a turn at that Tiddy.

(Please don't feel obligated to write it if your not feeling it, I just absolutely love your Wet Nurse fic!!!!!)

Like usual there will be a second part of this from Vander’s POV at some point before it goes up on AO3. IDK I just like doing them separate here first (it's because they're ~1k each and can stand alone)

Shout out to the person in the Zaundads discord who basically gave me the entirety of Mylo’s background here.

Tags: omegaverse, breastfeeding a toddler

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

“And what’s this one’s story?” Silco asks as he puts Powder down now they are home, nodding at the pup Vander has on one of the tables as he tries to wipe the dirt off him. The boy pulling faces and leaning away as he does but not getting up to leave like he very much is capable of.

Silco has no doubts there’s a sob story to go along with him.

The way Powder clings at his legs makes him realize he should have already put his foot down if he wanted to stand a chance at preventing Vander from picking up every stray he finds and bringing them back home to pack into Silco’s nest.

And maybe Silco should count himself lucky that this is how Vander has found to fill his want of pups instead of trying to get Silco to whelp them for him. There is still too much to be done to have time for a pregnancy.

Silco ignores the traitorous fear that rises in him that Vander might find he prefers this method of pup acquisition.

“You know those missing people Benzo kept talking about?” Vander asks, as the scrawny pup tries to squirm away from him.

“He turned out to be right?” That was a surprise. Benzo had a habit of not letting up on something no matter how clearly it was just the usual life in Zaun.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Vander says, giving up at trying to clean down the pup.

Silco snorts at it, gesturing for Powder to let go of him. The girl wondering off likely in search of her sister.

“They were nabbing people off the streets,” Vander explains as Silco walks over to him and the boy. “Taking our people in chains to sell in foreign lands.”

“And did you and Benzo take care of them?” Silco would be disappointed if they didn’t but the two had lost their edge of late. The deal with Piltover causing them to forget that their people still needed them to fight for them. Both becoming lazy in their new lifestyles.

“We did,” Vander says, hanging his head as if it is something to be ashamed of.

Silco doesn’t comment on it. He has made his thoughts of the newfound pacifism clear and is working to ensure Zaun’s protection if Vander proves no longer capable.

“He’s a skinny thing.” Silco cups the pup’s face to examine him and the lack of puppy fat a boy his age should have.

There’s skinnier pups in Zaun if you know where to look. But it wouldn’t do for one of theirs to be seen as missing out.

“They’d been starving the lot of them,” Vander says. “And, well, I though…”

“Thought what?” Silco says when Vander lets his statement trail off. He has a good idea of what his alpha is thinking. But there is no way he’s letting him get away with not saying it.

“You’re already feeding Powder,” Vander says with a shrug. Because for him it’s no big deal.

He’s not the one with tits that now leak if he goes too long without letting a pup feed. Any attempts at getting the supply to dry up thwarted by a certain blue-haired girl’s pathetic face whenever he tries to deny her.

“My supply isn’t unlimited you know,” Silco reminds as he works on undoing the clasps to his new vest. Because Vander had better not start getting any ideas about trying to save every orphan in Zaun with Silco’s breasts.

“I’m not asking you to become their sole food source,” Vander says and Silco just rolls his eyes at it.

“Come here,” he says, reaching out to the pup that has been watching him with curious eyes.

The boy lets Silco pick him up, sitting in Silco’s lap after he hooks a chair out from the table to not have to nurse standing up.

“Do you have a name?” Silco asks, holding a finger up when Vander goes to answer for the boy.

He at least deserves it from the pup’s own mouth.

“Mylo,” the pup says, glancing between Silco’s face and chest as Silco undoes his shirt enough to get his fuller feeling breast out. “Are you my new mum?”

“Something like that.”

 When Vander first brought the girls home he had told his mate they were the alpha’s pups to deal with. That Silco would only tolerate but not parent them.

It had taken less than a week for Powder to make him go back on it. The two girls now as much his as they are Vander’s.

He doesn’t see any point in pretending it will be different with this one.

“Are you hungry?” Silco asks, despite seeing the answer clear in how the pup’s eyes off his breast.

Mylo nods quickly.

“Go on then.”

Silco has to guide Mylo’s head into the best position to get a good latch. It makes him wonder when the last time the pup was allowed to nurse was.

Soon enough the boy finds a rhythm, one far more desperate than either of the girls ever have. Thin arms wrap around Silco’s waist as the pup practically clings on as if he is afraid he will be ripped away.

“You are safe now pup,” Silco says. “Nobody will take you away.”

Nobody would dare.

Silco looks up to Vander to see why the alpha hasn’t said anything only to find Vander watching.

“Enjoying the show?” Silco asks with a raised eyebrow.

He knows Vander enjoys the fact he nurses the pups. He would be an idiot to miss the signs. But it isn’t something he can encourage if he ever wants to have his milk supply dry up and not a constant supply of orphans being brought home to him.

“Uh.” Vander coughs. “Do you want dinner?”

“Please.” Silco hadn’t eaten since lunch and his body was apparently going to need enough food to produce milk for two regularly nursing pups.

“I’ll go get you something,” Vander says because Silco clearly isn’t going to be getting up anytime soon.

At least he is grateful for what Silco is doing for the pups he found.

[uldren-sov]

call it a draw

It’s certainly been a while! I’d just like to thank @cytharat for allowing me to borrow the absolutely lovely and stunning Nioven for this!!! For what’s the start of a certainly interesting and long standing friendship rivalry

Little skirmish in the streets of Nar Shaddaa with some young bloods trying to figure out just how really handle the realities of their parts in the cold war. And finding the reality is a bit more complicated than what they might have been told.

SWTOR

Elora is my OC

Nioven is @cytharat ‘s

For all of its lessons of brutality, Korriban never teaches young Sith how to kill a Jedi. 

The basics of the act were all there, the steps in order to do so. Murder was as familiar as the death it caused in the red sands of Korriban. However any Jedi captured, tortured, and released  into the unforgiving lands there, were like only so many mice that scrambled around a snakes cage. Yes, there was a chance for the mouse to hurt the snake, and there was always a chance for a hunt to go wrong, but the most dangerous things about the hunt were the other snakes in the cage. 

Elora knows how to kill a Sith – has killed Sith, with the very lightsabers that hummed and burned in her hands. The unfamiliar young woman before her, menacing her now as a white saber ignites, and spins into a familiar guard however, is no Sith.

Cutting her teeth on Nar Shaddaa has been difficult in more ways than one, but Jedi involvement has always been one of the more serious threats. A neutral planet during a cold war was normally anything but; part balancing act of foreign policy and part seeing which side blinked first. This was just one more encounter, a fight over resources between the Empire, and the Republic. Though, this being Nar Shaddaa, the Hutts always loomed in their garish, grandiose, background, waiting for the chance to capture it for themselves without repercussion and sell it all back to the highest bidder.

This time, the Empire simply wasn't willing to pay. 

So they sent a Sith to put an end to negotiations and take back what the Hutts “recovered” for themselves – tracked down to a surprisingly incognito warehouse along a back street.

Seems the Republic had similar thinking.

"Stand down, Sith," the clear ring of her order echoes down the debris riddled street. The dark browns and greens of her leathers played off the light green of her skin, the light brown of her hair. Her kind are called “Mirialan,” Elora recalls, as tens of data entries roll through her mind recalling the study of what they are. Nothing to be worried over, just another human-like species with a propensity for force-sensitivity. “Leave this place now, or I’ll be forced to remove you.” She states with all the stale conviction of someone who’s been told to say that towards The Enemy. 

“Is that all?” she shoots back. From behind the full mask, her voice comes out with a sinister electric undercurrent and if they were posturing, she can play along. A flip open of the heavy black robe covering the heavy, black, if standard, armor and she points through the bright red of her blade at the Jedi, her other at rest at her side. “Leave now, and I may yet let you.” The weight on her arm from this damned heavy armor already has her arm starting to waver as she keeps her blade extended.

She watches the Jedi’s grip tighten around her saber, her features sharpen into a severe grimace of finality as she just shakes her head. “So be it, then. Know that it gives me no pleasure to do this,” she calls out across the way, “but I’m not about to let you slaughter the people inside for the sake of the Empire.” 

“Banal, banausic, and presumptuous to a fault. Good to know that the stereotypes about you lot are correct,” she says, moving as the punctuation to her conclusion. The power surges to within her as she dashes forward in a flurry of fury and light. She twists and springs forth, both sabers held poised to strike. 

A half a second is all that separates the two of them from lethality, from the inevitable perpetuation of the oldest standing war, that spanned beyond the existence of the Republic and the Empire, the fight of Light versus Dark. The Jedi rushed in to meet her and their lightsabers clashed in the blinding spark of light. 

The Jedi catches both of Elora’s sabers, crashing onto her own in a rain of sparks as she strikes them to the side, only to follo up with a quick strike toward the body, just as Elora’s feet find ground. A quick block with one blade is enough to deflect the strike, but not enough to keep her from blocking her second follow through, as Elora dodges off to the side. She growls as she surges again against the Jedi with another series of strikes. For Elora’s part, her best defense is a relentless offense, and it seems as though the Jedi’s was similar. Exchanging strike for strike, blow for blow, she finds herself defending a strike as often as she tries to take advantage of an opening. Though she was able to push the Jedi back, all her efforts only culminate in a tight turn to connect her instep to the side of the Jedi’s face as her sabers are once more buffeted. The momentary stun of the hit sends the Jedi reeling back, as Elora closes the distance and leaps off the debris to deliver the coup de grace, striking down at her with both blades. Time seems to slow a moment, and as her sabers cut through the outer layer of armor and tails of the Jedi’s robes, there’s a sudden blinding light that emerges just before her eyes; her head moves back on instinct and it’s enough for the Jedi to take off half of her mask, rather than half of her face. 

In the very next moment, and without the filter from her visor, Elora spies the sudden flat palm that blasts her back with a mere gesture; a reverberating a wave of power that sends her flying back, connecting hard onto the pavement, and spinning over herself as she skidding across the dank street. She has the barest sense to extinguish her lightsabers and keep them in her grip as she finally finds her hands and knees beneath her.

Her body is alight with ache, pain, and the searing burn of use as she takes a moment to find herself. She knows the pain, the anguish is all the fuel she needs to push past her boundaries, and worry about the repercussions after. Panting now, she can feel the coat of sweat cooling in the artificial air of Nar Shaddaa against her face as she glares her murderous intent at the Jedi. She tears the rest of the damn thing off, and the heavy black robe as well, as she regards her opponent anew. This fucking armor, designed to be simply one Sith peon amidst the rest, to be one uniform pawn in her Lord’s greater game to be sacrificed along with the rest – it was about to get her killed. She wouldn’t give the Jedi the satisfaction to think it was her own doing. Grappling for breath Elora draws herself back up to her full measure, and is at least pleased to see her opponent push the fair hair from her own sweat-streaked brow as her shoulders sag with every breath she takes. While she ignores the spike of surprise she feels from the Jedi an the subtle tell of it in her facade as her mask comes off, she cannot ignore the moment which writes itself in the distance between them, recognizing the weight in the air, writing the words: what now? 

Her burning gaze meets the Jedi’s steely blue one and in a moment the grim reality answers the question, engulfing them and this street both. One of them leaves this. They raise their hilts back up, en garde and to the ready once more, but both heads turn towards the warehouse, the writing spells out a sudden warning instead, as a machine begins to spin up. 

A hail of blaster fire bursts from the entrance to the warehouse, blasts kick through the rubble in the street like it was sand in a wide arc of destruction. The two of them don’t even share a glance as they run towards the skeleton of a speeder car, leaping over and skidding beside it to take cover just as the repeating rounds rip through the windows and lighter parts of the frame. 

“Can always trust the Republic and Empire to take each other out and do all the work!” A gruff, scratching, deep voice yells over the blasts from the heavy repeater in Huttese. Huddled together now there’s only a beat shared between them of wide-eyed tension, a moment, a chance, to take advantage of the situation as they stare each other down once more. To prove the apparent Hutt enforcer right. The Jedi is the one to blink first and she dares to peek out over the torn wreckage. 

“I saw movement inside, probably more enforcers,” and she’s the one to offer the information up first with all the implication of the peace offering that it was. But for Elora’s part, the rage yet tears at her, gnashing at the cages of her control, to use this advantage for her own sake, screaming in her ears to take the life that is so deserved while her pride whispers in the space between that she, and she alone, would somehow manage to survive this. She grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes closed with the effort, to close her fist around her emotions and wrestle them into submission with as much ruthlessness as she would her enemies. She controls her emotions, they do not control her. 

An exhale. Elora dares to glance at the Jedi, as even she manages to drop her her shoulders, her guard, and push her hair back out of her face in relief as Elora drops flat onto the ground to surveil for herself to the side of the wreckage as, indeed, five additional guards with rifles pour out of the front door. 

“Seems you are correct about that,” she confirms, “but the gunner is being fairly liberal with his shots. Should not be long at all until that heat sink is at capacity.” 

“Then that’s our moment,” the Jedi says, “we’re just going to have to deal with the other gunners.” 

“I would take five gunners over that repeater, so when that happens? We make our move,” she states and gets a resolute nod from the Mirialan as a reply. 

“I’ll go first,” they both state at the same time. Their eyes meet one more time in a shock of audacity and outrage before staring each other down. The only thing that broke it was the sudden blaster fire ripping through the main part of the speeder and breaking their eye contact. 

Until it doesnt. Until the unmistakable hiss of tibaana gas escapes from the heavy repeater. Once more, the two don’t need a shared glance to act. In a flash of browns, dark green, and white, the Jedi is first to leap over their cover as the rifles now open fire. 

A clean reflection sends the first blast directly back at the gunner who spirals back, no doubt dead on impact. With the other four guards opening fire, the Jedi moves like water, like a dance in managing to contend with the four red volleys. It’s mesmerizing as the white of her saber flows around her, but Elora is not one to allow the other to take all the glory. Despite her sore limbs she too vaults over their cover, drawing only one of her two sabers to do similarly, as they both approach them now. As much as there was a time limit – they only had until the heat sink cooled once again in order to make this work – there still had to be patience in getting close enough to striking range. They approached, step by step over the pock-marked ground and forgotten debris, until they could make those steps faster, and faster, approaching like inevitability itself as some of the blasts catching the guards in their armor before they were close enough now to do some real damage. 

As the white blade cut through the first of the rifles, a red one skewered into one of the guard’s chests. At that point, it was too late for whatever poor company were hired by the Hutts. They all fell in a matter of moments, the two of them together quickly dispatches the entourage with lethal precision. And then there was silence. There was stillness. There was finally a moment to breathe. 

A click, combined with a soft beeping broke the silence before they could think of what happens next, as well as a second hiss of gas venting violently. There were only moments to act as the first guard, with the failing strength of a dying man, lobs the small explosive into the air as the main gunner squeezes the trigger. 

The Force is gathered to two separate hands, with two very different intents. Rage and serenity in equal measure are summoned and brought to bear on their targets. Lightning manifest splits through the air as it immobilizes the hand on the trigger and tears through the gun, and the unseen wave of sheer power made real propels the explosive to safety, deep within the warehouse. The tibanna gas ignites at about the same time the explosive does as it engulfs the area in a torrent of flame. The two are blown off their feet and now both are left skidding across the street in a rag doll of limbs before sliding onto their backs as their quarry lands in fiery pieces around them. 

For a long time they lay there quiet, limbs heavy, and simply catching their breath. She’s grateful for the bun in her hair if only to provide for the smallest amount of cushioning to stave off a concussion, but as she looks over to her temporary – ally? She finds that clear blue gaze staring right back at her. She begins to draw herself up, with all the grit and grimace and determination that pain can bring, a green hand holding at her ribs as she manages to get a foot underneath her. 

Shit. Elora can barely move as it is, the technique of her form was hard enough on her body without all this extra weight. Yet, now? Now it may be for the sake of survival. They both get to their feet in a chorus of aching groans, and panting moans, before they face each other, once again, hunched, harried, and off balance. The jet wash from a speeder bike could probably knock them over, yet it’s the Jedi who just shrugs her shoulder. 

“Well … it could have gone worse,” she says as both of them look slowly to the still burning wreckage of their goal. 

“About that slaughtering of everyone inside,” Elora can’t help but snipe as she’s rewarded with a stern grimace, but nothing more. The Jedi returns the lightsaber to the belt around her white armor and begins to leave. “I’m not through with you yet!” Her ego says before her mind and body can possibly stop her, as the Jedi slowly turns back towards her. 

“You really think you can fight in this state?” She fires right back and Elora has to wince at the truth of it. She just shakes her head, “it’s not in my nature, nor in the Code, to execute someone when they’re no longer a threat. And really, I’m not sure I could, anyways.” A deep breath is all the tell she gives to show where her wince comes from, but the most Elora could offer was a glare. She could barely raise her arms let alone try and strike at her, stars, she doubts she can even connect a punch. So she stands there as the Jedi manages to straighten her spine and regard her instead. 

“Goodbye, Sith. Here’s hoping I never see you again,” she states and warns in equal measure before walking – no, slightly limping, away down the street. 

Elora waits there, seething with her own dissatisfaction, yet with the undeniable triumph that somehow she still has her life. And as the Jedi turns a corner out of sight, she finally allows herself to fall back into a heap, sprawled out and staring up at the perpetual night sky as she wonders just what exactly happened, and what happens next.