#he gave me the ability to feel for a sport i never cared growing up

[lunaticamic]

oh to be 11 and watching him play again

[solei-eclipse]

[ dry coughing ] hey

I'd like to introduce the ocs/concepts I previously mentioned! they were thought up mostly for fun (and HEAVILY inspired by a few things, try and take a guess) so I'm not sure if I'll spend as much time on them. who knows, maybe they'll grow on me.

they're super funny to me. i think i made them just to have a laugh. sorry. you'll see why soon!

anyway, this is Jiu and Kioku! They have a long history together (well, at least one of them thinks so).

Jiu ( jee - yu )

A very dutiful and serious person

Has a formal way of speech (he almost never speaks casually)

Carries himself with a regal air, behaves like a young noble

Incredibly melancholic

His eyes have a strange quality to them, almost as if he's looking far off into the distance or straight through certain people (even if they're standing right in front of him)

Often takes a leadership role, adept at managing and organization (class president/class rep type)

Very cold and distant despite taking on multiple responsibilities

Neutral in stance, polite but in the detached way

Willing to help his classmates with whatever is needed, but won't do more than what's absolutely necessary

Holds his duty and responsibility in high regard, always in service to someone or something

Used to have a gentle, caring, and protective nature, but was forced to snuff it out due to his cruel home environment and those who took advantage of his kindness

Under the ownership of a rich and illustrious segyein, the hostess of an establishment where human pets were put to work

Due to his exceptional mental abilities and sense of duty, he was promoted to a high position at a very young age. He handles accounting and is the hostess' right hand man

Because of his duty and devotion to service, he is made to carry out illegal and immoral acts in secret

Whenever he returns from the Anakt Garden, Jiu is immediately put to work

He is pale to the point of his veins showing and has a dull, steely gaze

Jiu sleeps face-down. There's no reason for it, he just does

Yes, it's suffocating. Someone has to turn him over in his sleep just to make sure he can breathe right. There was once someone who used to do it for him, but now nobody does

Kioku ( kee - oh - ku )

Prefers everyone to call her Kio !

She arrives to the Garden quite late due to certain health complications (according to her guardian)

Has a very open face and unguarded eyes, which may lower the guard of other people

It's genuinely a strange quality. Those who hold secrets or ill intent may feel uncomfortable looking into her eyes for long periods of time.

Kio herself almost never lies. She will tell the truth even if it brings about consequence

Very athletic! Excels in sports and ranks high during Field Days

Kind in a way that's incredibly stubborn. Wills herself to forgive those who have wronged her and regards them with gratitude despite everything

Very persistent, has a great amount of inner strength

As a child, Kio was weak, cowardly, and codependent. She entered an establishment at a young age in exchange for her safety, but since she refused to adjust herself to the environment (perform actions she deemed cruel) she was often picked on and treated unfairly

Since she was weak, she clung onto the first person who gave her the slightest bit of help and blindly trusted them

Currently so different from her child self. Those who knew her back then find the change incredibly jarring (almost like she's become a completely different person)

There is something off about her. She can't seem to recall anything about her past and feels like something has been taken from her in a way

The fact that she can't recall her childhood pushes her to live in the present, she'd prefer not to look back

She is still unaware of how she got the scar on her cheek

Together :

Jiu seems to regard Kio differently, almost cautiously

As Kio arrived to the Garden late, the responsibility of looking after her fell into Jiu's hands

He was in charge of getting her acquainted with routines, past lessons, etc.

Though Jiu is normally as imperturbable as a rock, there is a unique air of awkwardness to him whenever he interacts with Kio

He refuses to look her in the eyes

Kio, for her part, tries very hard to catch up and makes sure she isn't a burden to him

His odd treatment of her makes her conscious that he dislikes her, which pushes her to work harder

Jiu is the only person who refuses to address Kio by her nickame. He only calls her Kioku, or if he can help it, doesn't refer to her by name at all

Particularly observant individuals may notice how Jiu begins to lose composure. It's incredibly subtle, so it's not obvious to others

Kio has a strange feeling about him that she just can't put her finger on.... at times it makes her uneasy

Random tidbits:

Jiu ( ジウ ) : samurai, warrior, knight. or "to serve someone of high rank or status with respect and loyalty."

( emphasis on themes of service and devotion )

Kioku ( キオク ) : literally translates to memory.

( to remember, remembrance, recollection )

Jiu's sharp strands of hair that fade to white are meant to vaguely mimic a dragon's features (two sharp fangs on his forehead, two long whiskers on the sides of his head)

Kioku vaguely resembles a bird feather.

Her eyes are wide, round, and far apart. They not only emphasize her openness, but are also reminiscent of fish eyes (associated with empty-headedness, a certain lack of something + the concept of goldfishes with bad memory)

Kio's main emotion is curiosity

Jiu's main emotion is guilt

[chidoroki]

Black Clover ch373

With Nebra deploying a large forest of mist to buy the siblings some time to formulate a plan, Nozel suggests that their best course of action is to rely on Noelle's absurd magic power in order to defeat Acier. As much as I wanted Nozel to be the one single-handedly take down their mother, I can't deny that Noelle is the best bet. Of course she's been growing stronger exceptionally well thanks to her being apart of our main squad of Black Bulls, but I love how this move also shows how much faith Nozel has in her abilities.

My wish wasn't in vain though because my man does indeed get his own moment to shine! I just didn't expect it to happen.. like this. I had imagined that if Nozel was going to get an upgrade during the fight against mom that he would sport some kind of mercury armor similar in style to her steel one, kinda like how Noelle's is, but dude is out here really looking like the silver surfer. But hey, if it grants him some 1v1 action against Acier then I shall not complain! Him bringing up her past advice about how Nozel should use his magic to protect his siblings is the absolute best and I'm so happy he can show his mother just how serious he takes this promise of his! If Noelle was the best option for offense, then we'll find no better fit for defense than Nozel!

Call me dumb, but I'm not actually quite certain what the two siblings do in order to assist Noelle. I wanna believe they're providing extra mana for her to charge up her upcoming attack? Or perhaps lend a hand with control? Well, whatever they're doing, their support goes a long way and nothing thrills me more than seeing this family finally work together as a team.

Okay, so to no one's surprise, Nozel's mercury is indeed toxic to even him. I think we all kinda assumed that but with how he applied it to himself back during the Elf arc after his fight against that compass chick I wasn't completely sure. Perhaps that quick patch job across his stomach from where he got impaled wasn't too bad at the time, but I can see how having the magic all across his body like this would be much more harmful. I was about to question whether Acier has this drawback with her armor, but mercury is more toxic than steel, so there's that.

Between Nozel hurting himself by maintaining his silver guardian spell and these two withstanding whatever pains comes with being this close to Noelle charging up is madness. I admire the determination y'all have but can ya please be careful?? I want all of you to survive this fight thank you very much.

Something something guilt complex and redemption arc coming in full blast. Again, I'm glad they're finally accepting how horrible they've acted towards Noelle and wanna become better siblings, but please don't knock yourselves out with this!

Ah for fuck's sake, another one. Nozel, we forgave you ages ago, sweetie! Relax! You can't be a family if you're not around anymore!

Ah, yeah, I can't really blame Nebra. I know it doesn't seem like a totally serious reason for all the backlash she gave Noelle, but I can understand how being tormented by the very image of someone you cared for so deeply could make every day difficult if you had to see that person so often. Kinda like a haunted memory that never goes away.

Solid's reasoning is a bit easier to relate to I think. Seeing someone younger than you, or really anyone else, have the potential to do something you always thought possible of yourself really does plant some unnecessary jealousy into you. It makes you start thinking stuff like "well how come they're able to do that and I'm not?" "how did they accomplish that before me?" "why are they better than I am when I understand this certain thing more?" etc. I think it's a common mindset when you're in a creative headspace, whether it's about art, writing, editing or anything like that. Or even physically like with sports and stuff. You can't help but feel a bit bitter when you see others succeed, especially during competitions or in a society like the Clover kingdom where royal status and squad rankings are so highly praised.

If you listen closely you can hear me clapping loudly at their apology. It's more believable and heartfelt that they say it now after the events of last chapter and this one as they finally came to Noelle's aid rather than if they had said it on the fly or without stepping in to help during the fight.

Girl has a heart of gold to accept the apology so quickly and I'm completely fine with it too. It's all Noelle ever wanted really, to be accepted by her siblings and feel worthy of the name Silva.

Pfftt good god, this spell is massive. I also noticed from the previous panels to here that her sea dragon form disappeared.

Look at this man, tanking strong hits like this. I wish we got a bit more of the action between Nozel & Acier, but I get that the other sibling's apology was equally as important and deserved their own moment. Perhaps the anime can extend the fight between mother and eldest son.. if and whenever it returns. At least I hope so. Anyways, giant laser beam of water coming your way, mom!

Now Acier, out of all the spells to use, why would ya use a water bird in an attempt to stop this attack when you're more than capable of producing steel?? I think that was a mistake on your part, honey.

Ahh.. rest in pieces you magnificent queen. At least, I assume this is her end as her grimoir is crumbling. Although, sister Lily didn't disappear after she was defeated... but then again, she was very much alive when she became a paladin in contrast to Acier who was basically brought back from the dead. Sigh, I just ruined my own slim hopes of her being able to stay around after this battle.

Oh it was certainly a very long time coming, however many years old Noelle is by now in fact, but yes, the Silva siblings are finally acting like a true family and I'm so very proud. Damn, I can't wait to catch glimpses of them behaving normal around each other. I shall eagerly await every interaction between these four to see how much they've all grown. They're precious to me and when the day comes that this fight becomes animated, I will be highly emotional.

Haven't a clue on when the next chapter(s) will released but I'm perfectly fine with what we got this time around. Having no Black Bulls show up like I had originally wanted was actually real nice and I appreciate it since the Silvas got their own time to heal and improve themselves. All that aside, can we let my man Nozel rest, please? Dude looks like he's five seconds away from passing out.

[the-void-writes]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Thank you @bloodlessheirbyjacques for the tag! I believe the rules are to answer the questions as one of your characters. I went with Jason to answer this one, and I’m sorry the responses are short 😅

1. Are you named after anyone?

Partly, though I’m not proud of it. My father chose my middle name after an actor he admired, Theodore King… Let’s just say that Mister King wouldn’t have taken kindly to people like me. I just tell people I’m named after my great grandfather, even though his name was Lawrence.

2. When was the last time you cried?

During my son’s check-up. He’s suffered so much, and the world keeps taking from him… He’s so thin, but he’s trying so hard to keep training and helping people. I couldn’t be prouder of him.

3. Do you have kids?

Several, depending on how you define “kids.” Legally, I have three godchildren and a stepson. If you’re counting children within my care, I have ten. And yes, I love them all dearly.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

If I’m particularly irritated with someone, then absolutely.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

How they treat people. I don’t tolerate rudeness or bullying, especially towards children.

6. What’s your eye color?

It’s a light blue, I believe. Henry keeps saying it’s like snow, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s colorblind somehow.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I’ve never cared for scary movies, unless they’re cheesy drive-in movies like my parents would have watched. Henry and I make fun of them all the time— He does the best imitations of all those actors.

8. Any special talents?

Do you count Freak abilities? It’s taken a while, but I’ve started to perfect the use of my wings. Flying is such a refreshing feeling.

9. Where were you born?

Born and raised in Hazelton. It’s much larger than Preston, more for the “elite.” I never cared for it that much.

10. What are your hobbies?

Reading, mostly, though I did love gardening some time ago. Will’s starting to take to it, and I love helping him. I also enjoy teaching a bit, helping my patients learn history and science— and flying, definitely, especially with Will. He always tries to fly as close to the moon as possible.

11. Do you have any pets?

I had a cat named Quentin once. He hated my father, but he loved the rest of us. He always slept in my chair while I did schoolwork. I miss him sometimes.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Aside from the required classes for school, the most athletic thing I’ve done is training for Vesely. Honestly, I owe Rio my life for helping me learn how to fight.

13. How tall are you?

Somewhere around six feet, last I checked. Not the tallest in our company, thankfully, but much taller than Henry and our patients.

14. Favorite subject in school?

It’s a tie between English and History. I loved reading about ancient civilizations, but our English teacher always gave us the best books to read.

15. Dream job?

I actually love being a caretaker for my patients, even if the other employees can be a pain. These kids mean the world to me, and I’m happy to help them grow and learn and come into their powers.

I’ll try to tag as many as I can 😅: @circa-specturgia @tryingtimi @muddshadow @magefaery @pinespittinink @sergeantnarwhalwrites @jessica-writes22 @italiangothicwriteblr @agrimedena-drax @asher-orion-writes @sapphic-story @whimsyqueen

[heliads]

A Glance Across the Street

Based on this request: “a race oneshot where he realized he’s in love with the reader. she’s doing something (singing, playing with kids, whatever) and he’s awestruck and the boys are teasing him after”

masterlist

Race is mid-conversation with his friends, mid-way through his bag of papers still left unsold. He should be focusing on talking to Albert and Jojo, and he should definitely be trying to get the last few of his papes sold before the night grows too old and he’s out of customers to swindle. He knows all of this, yet his gaze keeps slipping from his fellow newsies or passing bankers to rest on one girl down the block.

Y/N is selling papes too, her grin contagious as she manages to talk even the most persnickety of passersby into purchasing the daily newspaper. Her newsie cap is slightly askew, and Race’s hand twitches by his side as if he longs to fix it, to look down and see her flash him a grateful smile. Honestly, Race is starting to think that he has a problem when it comes to Y/N L/N.

As it turns out, Race is not the only one to notice this: although he attempts to quickly jerk his attention back to the conversation at hand, Albert and Jojo notice the fact that he isn’t quite responding on time and try to figure out what’s got his focus hooked. Albert follows Race’s line of sight and a vicious grin appears on his face. Race tries to look away hurriedly, pretending he was just following the path of a potential customer, but it’s too late- they’ve both seen.

Jojo loops an arm around Race’s shoulders, clasping the other hand firmly over his heart. “Well, if my eyes don’t deceive me, I think Racer here has a little crush.” Race scoffs, pulling away from the boy. “As if. I’m just trying to sell my last papes.” Albert rolls his eyes. “Is that why you haven’t sold one in half an hour? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’se trying to lose money.”

This is a fierce accusation for a newsboy who prides himself on his ability to make any deal to even the most unlikely of customers, and Albert knows it. So, when Race snatches his cap from his mess of blond curls, ready to swat it most brutally into Albert’s head, the red-haired boy is able to easily dart away in time to avoid the killing blow. Race tries one last time, but his attacks fall short when he hears a voice from behind him.

“What’s going on here? Why are you trying to murder Albert?” Race’s eyes widen in spite of himself, and he straightens up hurriedly, slapping his hat back on his head as if he’d just been stretching. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just having a, uh, friendly conversation.” Albert looks positively gleeful over this, but he doesn’t say a word. Y/N raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know about that. I’d swear there was going to be bloodshed.”

Albert may be willing to save him from the fires this once, but Jojo is not so generous. Instead, he casually leans on Y/N’s shoulder, practically savoring the way Race’s shoulders stiffen. Race does his best to ignore this, forcing a casual smile. “Well, maybe Albert deserved it. You know him.” Y/N tilts her head to the side, considering this. “I do know him. What’s he done now?” Albert and Jojo look between Race and Y/N like they’re watching a sports match, curious as to what explanation Race can manage without telling her the true reason for the near beatdown.

Race mentally stumbles for a moment, then comes up with a scrap of something. “He insulted my brand of cigars. I couldn’t have that, could I?” Y/N’s eyes glint with barely contained amusement, and Race thanks everything holy that his excuse held up. “Oh, I get it now. I’m sorry to interrupt the carnage.” Race grabs Y/N’s hand, pulling her away from Albert, Jojo, and their twin mocking expressions to continue walking down the street.

“That’s alright. Now, come on- I think I saw a few tourists. Think we can scam ‘em?” Y/N laughs as she follows him down the block. “Without a doubt. Is that them?” She jerks her chin towards a cluster of families pausing by a florist, all of them in the newest fashions. They practically reek of wealth, which makes them the perfect targets for newsies in desperate need of unloading some papes. Race nods, and Y/N’s grin widens. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Race you there, Racer!”

She takes off down the street, spinning past cobblestones. The sound of her laugh, lighter than a summer breeze, lingers by Race’s side for a moment longer. Although Race knows he should follow her and at least try to sell some of his papes before all of the tourists are gone, he feels stuck in place, unable to do anything except watch her go. There’s a smile tugging at his lips before he realizes it. He tries to stow this a second later, except it’s a little hard to be serious when there’s a girl like Y/N right next to him.

He manages it in the end, as he always seems to do. Race isn’t sure what happened to make him turn into this stumbling mess whenever Y/N’s with him, but the habit keeps seeming to stick. He hasn’t always been like this, it’s only a recent incident, but no matter what he tries Race can’t go back to seeing Y/N as a friend and a friend alone. Sometimes, he wants to knock himself upside the head, hoping that a brief concussion might restore his thoughts, although Race is fairly certain that even this hit might make him even more of a grinning idiot where a certain newsgirl is concerned.

Later that week, Race is hit by that same bout of hopeless staring, although this time it’s even worse than before. It comes over him like a wave, threatening to pull him under entirely. He had been turning the street, walking from one block to another in the hopes of finding some idiot with a purse full of coins who’d be willing to shell out a little more than usual to a newsboy on the street. Maybe this is why his crush hits him so hard- he’d had no time to prepare, nothing to center himself around except this sudden sight of the girl before him.

All of a sudden, there she was, talking to a group of kids she’d met on the street. They stare at her with the same sort of loopy smile Race wears now, like they’d follow her anywhere so long as she gave the word. Honestly, Race may get a little jittery around the Brooklyn boys or the cops when there are too many of them, but the hold Y/N has on him scares him even more than that. He’d do anything she asked of him, no matter what or how. He can’t run from that kind of influence, just go along with it and hope he didn’t get worse.

Y/N crouches down now, the edges of her skirts rustling lightly over the uneven cobblestones. She reaches out a hand to a nearby girl, one who would barely come up to her ribs unless Y/N was kneeling as she is now. The little girl presses a careful coin into the awaiting hand, and Y/N hands her a newspaper in return. Race can see her pointing out the different pictures on the front, explaining them with that same slow voice she gets when the night is late and drowsiness slips through every syllable. This time, though, she’s not tired, just speaking in a way that kids who barely know anything can understand. Maybe that’s all Race is, too, a kid with half a brain and some stupid lovesick gaze he can’t seem to shake.

Y/N stands up, stretching, as the little girl leaves. A few more kids linger by her knees, and she talks to each of them in turn, patience coming eternal even by the point when Race would have started getting a little restless had it been him there instead of her. One of the kids hands her a flower he managed to find from somewhere, and Y/N tucks it behind her ear, smiling as if it’s a jeweled tiara instead of a little sprig of a plant that’s more leaf than petal.

She turns now, as if she can sense someone watching her, and finds Race from where he’s hidden by the crowd. She smiles at him, the simple expression almost enough to knock him over. There’s a soft slight in her face, as if she’s a little self-conscious to be caught talking so eagerly with the kids, but Race could never make fun of her for a second. Instead, he lets his own smile widen in return, and Y/N looks almost relieved. She mouths something about catching up to him in a second, then turns back to the kids when one of them tugs at her hand.

Now that he’s been caught, Race should probably keep moving down the block, at least doing something to keep up the pretense that he’s just selling papes instead of simply staring with that same jump in his heart. However, he can’t quite convince his feet to move, like his body is perfectly fine with just watching her there. It’s just the way the light washes golden over her hair, the sunbeam force of her smile, the twist of her hand and head as she speaks. Race has seen the way the rich neighbours stare at artworks, entranced by mere brushstrokes. If that’s what it looks like to fall in love with a mere painting, then Y/N might be an entire museum full of masterpieces.

That describes it, doesn’t it? He’s in love. Stupidly, crazily, whole-heartedly in love. There’s no way to describe it. Race has had crushes before, on rich girls with silken bows and laughing girls who talk to him as they leave the factories after work. None of those seem even remotely close to the hold Y/N has on him now, like all those kisses and offered flowers were just practice for this.

Maybe he’s too lost in his own thoughts, or the way Y/N seems to call an entire city to her like the star of a show, but Race doesn’t hear Albert and Jojo appearing behind him until it’s too late and they’re already upon him. Albert is crowing at him, face wrought over with victory. “It’s official. You’re completely hopeless for Y/N.” Race moves to deny this, but it’s too late- they have enough evidence to tease him for the rest of his life.

Jojo looks almost incredulous. “Wasn’t it just yesterday that you was telling me about how you’d never spend too much of your time trippin’ over some goil? Look at you now! Albert, he’s practically thinking about marriage.” Albert pretends to be severely affected by this thought. “I can see it in his eyes. He might already be picking out the rings.”

Race rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’se talking about. Y/N’s a friend.” Albert and Jojo actually burst out laughing, and Race wants to hit them. “She’s a friend? Race, if you look at your friends like that I’m getting locks on the doors. You’se in love, and it’s hilarious.” Race fishes around for some excuse or retort, finds nothing, and resorts to the time-honored classic of trying to hit them. “Some friends you are. No wonder I like Y/N- she doesn’t do this to me.”

Jojo hoots with laughter. “He admits it! Truth at last!” Albert sighs dramatically. “Did you hear his voice? He’s overcome with emotion.” Race lets scorn drip into his every word. “Overcome with emotion? Where’d you pick that up- off a pape?” Albert scoffs. “No, I read it off the cover of a book in a shop window, like somebody respectable.”

A voice comes from behind them once more, and Race wonders silently why he has to keep finding himself in this exact situation. “Somebody respectable? Albert, no offense, but I have never once seen anyone do that.” Albert’s expression grows worryingly bright, as if he’s just had a terrible idea, and he turns to face a newly arrived Y/N with a grin. “I’d usually argue on that, but I want to make time for someone else. Racer here was just saying something about how he needed to talk to you.”

Jojo’s eyes glint, like he’s caught on to Albert’s plan. “Yeah, actually, he was. Said it was something very important.” Albert nods solemnly. “Very, very important. We’d better leave now, so he can say it.” The two boys exchange looks, then practically jog off, although Jojo makes sure to give Race a very obvious thumbs up before they go. Race is about to seriously consider murder, but then a hand lands on his arm and he’s brought back to reality once more.

Y/N considers him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, I do have to admit that I’m a little worried by how excited they looked about that, but I am a little curious. What do you have to talk about?” Race knows what he should say, what Jojo and Albert no doubt want him to do, but the words stick a little in his throat. He remains silent for a little too long, and Y/N crosses her arms across her chest. “Well? I’m waiting.”

Race searches desperately for something to say, anything, but he has no idea how to start. Y/N’s look of curiosity is starting to bleed away into boredom, and Race is gripped by the sudden terror that she’ll leave before he can say anything at all, despite how terrifying it is to even think about telling her how he feels. So, he leans forward and kisses her before he can talk himself out of anything else.

Now Y/N doesn’t speak, not at all, and Race can’t think about anything except the fact that he might have ruined everything, once and for all. Then her face splits into this incredible grin, and Race feels like the ground has broken up beneath him and he’s falling, falling, until he can’t feel anything at all. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?” Race doesn’t know what to say. Again. “Uh, yes.”

She laughs, and Race thinks that he could have gladly listened to that sound every morning. Let the sound of her laugh replace the church bells, and he would have happily attended every sermon. “You’re an idiot.” Race nods. “Yes.” He’s not sure that he’s supposed to be agreeing to this, but she’s got him caught in her gaze again and he feels as if he can’t move a muscle. “Kiss me again, and I might just forgive you for waiting this long.”

Race grins, his confidence finally starting to return to him again. “Well, I like the sound of that.” He’s not about to refuse her this time, so he reaches forward, gently guiding her face back to his once more. 

[redrobin-detective]

Like You

Trequel to Half Of and The only ghost in Amity Park

“We need to talk, Fenton,” Valerie hissed, slamming Danny’s locker shut in his face. He pursed his lips and lowered his gaze but said nothing. Manson scoffed and stepped right up, putting her finger in Valerie’s face.

“He doesn’t owe you anything, Val so lay off. If he wants to talk to you, he will, not because you demanded it.” Val grabbed Sam’s wrist, strong but still such delicate bones. The goth flinched a bit as Valerie applied pressure.

“Only my friends,” Valerie hissed with a hard look over at Danny, “get to call me Val. But I guess we’re not friends if you kept something like this from me.”

“Val...erie, let her go,” Danny mumbled quietly. “We’ll talk after school, meet me by the equipment shed behind the football field.”

“Alone,” Val said, flicking away Sam’s wrist. “None of your adoring, enabling entourage, new or old.” 

“No way in hell,” Sam said, clearly resisting the urge to hold onto her injured wrist. “Like we’d trust Danny with someone like you.”

“What? Human?” Valerie asked back. Danny stuck his hands between them and forced them apart. Now that Val was looking, the entire hall was watching them. Whatever, they didn’t matter. 

“Cut it out,” Danny frowned, looking over both of them. “Sam, I’ll be fine talking to her alone.” He turned back to her with his blue eyes. As long as she’d known him, Danny’s had a presence about him. She took it as growing up in such a strange house and later her growing crush. But there was no way to explain away the icy, electric feel of his gaze holding her own. “3:30, equipment shed, just talking. Okay?”

“Fine,” Valerie said, turning and stomping down the hall so she had the last word. The rest of the day passed slowly as she gripped the sides of her desk and bounced her leg, thinking about Danny Fenton. How long had Danny been a ghost or half of one, how was that even possible? Had he always been that way and she simply hadn’t noticed? Her? The best ghost hunter in Amity? How much of Danny was real and what was just a cruel ghostly joke? That’s the question that burned the most. Danny seemed to be the only one who liked this new, more grounded Valerie. What would she do if her closest friend was just messing with her?

Finally, school ended and she stalked purposefully towards the equipment shed. Interesting choice of location, it was almost never used since most every day sports gear was stored in the locker rooms. Did he chose it because it was isolated? Danny didn’t seemed worried about confronting her alone, what abilities could he have that he wasn’t scared of her? That made her pause once the shed came into sight. She’d only heard about Danny’s powers, never having ever seen them firsthand. Valerie took an ectogun from her bag and slipped it in back waistband of her skirt. Just in case.

Danny was sitting on the roof of the shed, weirdly enough. It would be next to impossible to climb so he had to have flown. She’d already heard of him floating but the idea of Danny Fenton and superpowers still didn’t add up in her head. He was rubbing at a tear in his jeans when she approached. Danny gave a little awkward half smile that, a few days ago, would have sent her stomach into somersaults. Now seeing it just made her sick.

“Are you gonna hide up there all day?” She asked curtly, hands on her hips. 

“You could always join me up here,” Danny shrugged, getting more comfortable on the roof. Val raised a disbelieving eyebrow, eyeing the lack of handles and the broken splinters on the old shed. “We’re far enough away, no one will see you use your hoverboard.” Just when Valerie thought he was done being surprised. She gaped open mouthed at Danny who got nervous and rubbed his hands anxiously. “You uh you wanted to talk so I thought we ought to lay all our cards on the table.” He took a deep breath, “I know you’re the Red Huntress Val...erie.” 

“How!” She demanded, activating her board without thought to get to the roof. She grabbed Danny by the shirt and hauled him forward until their faces were inches apart. His body radiated a soft chill that brushed against her skin. He held up his hands in surrender.

“Since the start, Sam and I, we saw you in the park, remember? You caught us uhhhh,” Danny trailed off, looking away with a blush. It took Val a minute but she remembered one of her first outings with the suit, she was chasing Phantom and his stupid dog only to find Danny and Sam kissing in the bushes. She hadn’t cared about the love lives of losers at the time. It had only become relevant when she started catching feeling for Danny but he’d assured her multiple times that he and Manson weren’t a couple. “It wasn’t real, the kiss I mean. It was Sam’s idea, you surprised us and we didn’t have time to hide so you didn’t...” he trailed off.

"Didn’t, what?” She demanded. Valerie gasped when Danny simply phased out of her grip and assuming his previous position on the roof. She stared for a moment at her hands before looking up again at Danny who was back to fiddling with his clothes. There it was, irrefutable proof that Danny wasn’t human. It felt like her heart was being chipped away with a hammer. 

“Look, this has been kind of a hard week for me,” Danny groaned, raking his hands forcefully through his hair. “I get my powers outed, I need to convince my parents not to kill me the rest of the way, keep the ghosts off my back for a period, get the government to acknowledge my existence all the while dealing with everyone’s stares and questions at school.” He tucked his knees closer and flopped his face into them. “I said I would be honest with you and I’m trying but I’ve already had to give so much of myself this week and... I don’t know, what do you even want from me?”

“I want answers!” Valerie tried to demand but it came across as more whiney. She pushed back any tears that were threatening to come. “I want to know what was real! Was our friendship real? Our feelings? Are you even real? And if you knew I Huntress all this time then why... why would you even talk to me? Were you just playing with me? Spying on me? What did you want with me?”

“I’m real, Val, I promise,” He held out his hand and she reluctantly took it. His hand was chilly but there always where, it was also solid with knobbing bones and ropy muscles. Beneath it all, there was a sluggish but persistent pulse. She squeezed his hand, it was a human hand and yet it had also passed right through her. How could he be real and not real at once?

“As for what I wanted, just a friend really,” Danny said, keeping his head on his folded knees but turning towards her. She read nothing but sincerity in his eerily blue eyes. “Sam, Tuck and I, we have serious history. We know each other inside and out. But you, you were someone new. I loved hearing about your interests, your dreams, finding out who you were as a person beyond that jerk who made fun of me the second week of Freshman year for wearing my dad’s jumpsuit to school. I liked being able to be a normal person with you, I think I had started to forget with the whole ghost thing going on.”

“What happened?” Valerie couldn’t help but ask.

“Lab accident,” Danny said quietly, “Sam and Tuck were there, wasn’t pretty. Thought I was goner for sure. I survived somehow but I got some freaky powers out of the deal. There’s downsides but some sweet benefits,” he tilted his head back and looked longingly up at the sky. “Flying is the best.”

“Yeah,” Val couldn’t help but sigh in agreement. She could almost the feel the sensation of the wind whipping against her suit. Hear the roar as she soared through the clouds. It was hard to imagine Danny flying but his eyes shined with understanding she usually only saw in the mirror. “So why did you hang out with me knowing I hunted ghosts?”

“It just sorta happened, You obviously sensed that Sam and Tucker weren’t too happy about the risk.” No kidding, Val had gotten warmer welcomes from freezers. “But you were cool, Val. Plus you,” he paused and seemed to consider his words. “I felt like once we got over the hump you would get it in a way the other don’t. You know what it like to balance two lives, to have insane power at your fingertips, to feel like if you take even a second break that the ghosts will overwhelm the town. It’s just... a lot to deal with alone, Sam, Tucker and Jazz, they try to understand but they just don’t.”

He looked over at her, “I guess it was nice to know that there was someone like me out there,” he blushed, “and that someone uh liked me. For being me, y’know?”

“Clearly I didn’t know everything,” she grumbled watching as Danny winced. Val frowned, she probably wasn’t being entirely fair, she hadn’t exactly been honest with Danny either. 

“So you fight ghosts, huh?” Valerie couldn’t help was ask with a little smile. Trying to picture it. The Danny she thought she knew wouldn’t but this Danny... “Is that why you’re always running out of class?”

“Isn’t that why you leave?” He teased back hesitantly. “I’m honestly a little surprised no one figured me out before. I was really bad at hiding at first. Of course it’s only when I get the whole ‘secret identity’ thing down that I get exposed.” He huffed, the ends of his hair lifting out of his eyes. 

“Secret identity, so you can turn into a ghost?” Danny was silent. “Have I seen you out there?” More silence. “Have I... have I shot at you?” Everything seemed quiet save for their asynchronous breathing. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“It stung but not enough to keep me down for long,” Danny said, flexing his arms but his smile was strained. There was something about it that was haunting, familiar. She turned to look at the woods because if she stared any longer she’d realize which ghost Danny turned into and neither of them was ready for that right now. 

“So now what?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Danny sighed. “I’m kind of taking it one day at a time. Mom and Dad are nervous, jumpy, I’m not sure if they’re more scared of me or of themselves and what they did. My sister and friends are being annoyingly overprotective. People who hated me last week are suddenly in my face asking questions and demanding demonstrations. The government wants to kill me but,” he snorted a little, and tilted his head towards her floppily. “I'm also talking to you about this part of my life for the first time. Lying was a necessity I never grew comfortable with, I think I could do with a bit of honesty.”

“Yeah me too,” Valerie said, straightening up and looking Danny in the eye. “I’m still not sure how I feel about this. I don’t like ghosts and I likely never will. I’m going to continuing being Huntress and keeping the town safe. But I’m willing to give you chance, give you time to open up completely. It’ll give us both times to come to terms with everything, and maybe then we can figure out where we stand.”

“I’ll take it!” Danny beamed, “I was worried you were coming here to off me with that ectogun you have stashed in your skirt so this is much better!”

“How did you-” She gasped.

He winked and tapped his forehead, “I’m pretty sensitive to ectoplasm, especially out here in the real world. Gotta admit sometimes when my energy was low, I sought you out. Did you know your suit radiates a low level ectoplasmic field, even when you’re not wearing it?” He twisted his face in thought. “Now that we’re talking-talking, I should warn you what side effects excess exposure to ectoenergy can cause.” He twisted his hand and a small green ectoblast formed in his palm briefly before dissipating. “If that worries you, my parents can hook you up with some sweet ghost hunting equipment that won’t contaminate you.”

“So I could have powers like you one day?” She asked carefully, looking over her hands thoughtfully.

“Maybe, I don’t know. Mine was a kind of one in a million accident, well, two,” he made a face. “That’s whole other story, don’t ask. But we could maybe find out together, Val,” he winced. “Valerie.”

“Val is fine,” she said quietly, still thinking too many things. “We have a lot of things to figure out but in the meantime, you can keep calling me Val.” 

“I’d like that,” he smiled. “So uh, do you want to come to movie night tomorrow? It’s at my house this week. I uh always wanted to invite you before but Sam, Tuck and I usually end up talking ghost stuff during the movie so we couldn’t before but if you’re interested... could be fun to have you there. We’re watching The Shining.”

“That movie is like a billion years old,” Val laughed with an eyeroll.

“It’s a classic, I was named after the kid in that movie!” Danny defended. “I’ll text you the details but its up to you. Either way, we’ll uh, we’ll keep talking. See you around, Val.” And just like that, he vanished. She swiveled her head around but Danny Fenton was truly gone.

“Jerk,” she grumbled but there was no heat to it. She heard a giggle above her and knew Danny, in his secret ghost form, was probably flying. And it was too nice a day to walk home. She activated her suit and took to the skies herself. Valerie didn’t know if Danny was with her or not, she just turned off her brain and fell into the motion of aggressive loops and high speed dives around her town.

 Everything had turned upside down with the knowledge that Danny wasn’t who she thought he was. But again, things had been crazy since the ghosts first came to town. So she and Danny were at a stand still, not friends and not enemies, not open but not secretive either. It was a weird state to be in but Danny was probably used to being in a state of half life himself. But she’d worry about all that later, for now it just her and sky. 

[darkcircles4lyfe]

retrospective & predictions

Since we're on a hiatus week (between 320 and 321) I feel like waxing poetic about the depth and growth of bkdk for a bit. Especially because it seems like we’re right on the edge of their biggest development yet, I’m getting the urge to lay all my perspectives and insights I’ve picked up from others out on the table. This is ultimately only my subjective interpretation of subtextual material in canon, though. If you’ve never quite understood what people see in their dynamic and you’re actually open to hearing me out, maybe from this you can at least see where we’re coming from. And if you don’t like my takes after all, well, we’ll see who’s right in the coming chapters, won’t we? What I have to say can be taken platonically or romantically; I appreciate both. 

putting it under the cut, since it’ll be long:

At the risk of projecting, I want to start by examining a couple things based partly on personal experience.

From many different directions, I often hear people expressing that Deku’s persistent attachment and admiration for Bakugou is baffling at best. Despite the bullying, despite Bakugou’s loud, rude, and uncompromising personality, he still puts effort into their relationship and frequently describes him as amazing. It seems like Deku himself is aware of this as he’s said things along the lines of how he’s difficult, BUT... etc. Although I don’t think it’s exactly that Deku finds Bakugou’s personality hard to be around, but that he’s deliberately expressing patience for Bakugou’s emotional turmoil. 

I have to say I know what this sort of patience is like, as I went through it with someone I love. I only chose to put up with their behavior because I decided the possibility of what our relationship could be was worth it. I wasn’t blind or submissive to how they treated me, and I wasn’t coerced. I simply expressed myself and established my boundaries while still allowing them the opportunity to join me in my world once they got over their own hangups. And guess what? It worked out in the end. That doesn’t mean there aren’t circumstances where it’s better to cut ties, but I want to stress that true reconciliation is possible sometimes. I used to worry that other people around me thought I was delusional for seeking it, but what really helped was my therapist reminding me that I’m smart and strong. So I think Deku deserves to feel the same. In a way this is his whole mission in life, his approach to being a hero as well as his personal relationships.

Let me also be clear though that I don’t mean Deku is only tolerating Bakugou’s personality, his mannerisms, the parts of him that will likely never change. I’m drawing a line between those things and his emotional state (they so rarely align anyway, but I’ll get to that later). In fact, I think Bakugou’s general attitude is part of what Deku admires. This is gonna be hard to explain without inserting personal experience too, sorry. As a writer myself I’ve noticed I’m drawn to writing characters that are brazen and bold and don't mind telling people off. Really it’s because I operate in the world in the polar opposite way. I try not to draw attention to myself, I’m quiet, and I’m a people-pleaser. People who project confidence, especially in an impolite sort of way, fascinate me. It’s good to take cultural context into account, too: I've heard people who’d know better than me that part of the reason Bakugou is the most popular character in the Japanese fandom is likely because he contradicts a lot of their social norms. His disregard is refreshing and cathartic. I can speculate that Deku has a similar point of view based on what he thinks but does not admit about Bakugou being his image of victory and how this sometimes makes him mimic Bakugou’s speech and mannerisms: 

There’s also the bit in this fight where Deku realizes he's the only one able to receive Bakugou’s emotions. This is because he’s the most intimately familiar with him and his situation, but I think there’s another layer. Deku, as we know, has a self-sacrificing tendency, and in the current chapters we’re seeing the worst side of that. But let’s also not forget that to an extent, it can be a positive trait: resilience. When it comes to Bakugou, he has an almost comical ability to dodge the potential fallout of his outbursts. The example we all jump to (and fight about..) is how in ch1, apart from the initial shock of Bakugou suggesting he jump off the roof, the most he reacts is to criticize him for saying such a ridiculous thing. However, I think their interaction post- sludge villain is a lot more interesting:

Note two things: 1, in his head, Deku is practically making fun of how Bakugou’s acting as he stomps away without waiting for a reply. It doesn’t faze him. 2, Deku thinks, optimistically, that he can now focus on a different career choice. This is astonishing really. Up to this point, none of Bakugou’s attempts to put him down have worked; he just kept pursuing his dream. The only reason Deku concedes in this moment it because for the first time, he has been shown that he really couldn't do anything in a fight against a villain. All Might told him he couldn't be a hero (although he’s literally about to take that back in the next few pages lol) and the other heroes at the scene gave him a lecture about it too. It was those experiences, and not Bakugou’s words, that truly affected him. And when All Might tells Deku he can be a hero after all, it’s not thinking of Bakugou’s bullying that makes him sob and fall to his knees, it’s the memory of his own mom never telling him those words he so desperately needed to hear. Having spent most of their lives together, Deku must have been aware all this time that Baukgou was influenced by larger societal forces rather than a core judgement, so he didn’t take it personally. He separated the person from the action, and because he’s resilient and patient, he is thus equipped to handle Bakugou’s emotions. It’s a testament to his maturity and emotional intelligence, really. 

But I can almost hear some of you saying, “that doesn’t mean Deku should have to be the bigger person here!” Correct! Just because Deku is perfectly alright bearing all of that, doesn’t mean atonement-era Bakugou sees it this way. We can track his awareness of Deku’s care and selflessness as follows-

The bridge scene, when they’re little kids: Bakugou conflates Deku’s heroism with pity, and subsequently thinks Deku is looking down on him because Bakugou’s own insecurity makes him defensive.

The Sludge Villain, and also Deku vs. Kacchan Part 1: Bakugou witnesses first-hand how easily Deku jumps to risk his own life, but still thinks he’s being looked down on. 

The Sports Festival: Bakugou fights Uraraka and recognizes her endurance strategy and refusal to give up as very Deku-like. He’s half right. He thinks Deku advised her in the fight, when in reality she just mimicked Deku because she admired him. I want to draw attention to his very sober comment about her not being frail. It’s a great endearment of Uraraka’s character and Bakugou’s respect for her when others didn’t take “fighting a girl” seriously, but it also reflects on his opinion of Deku. Deku isn’t weak either. He never was.

Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2: Deku finally corrects him about the whole looking-down-on-him thing, and Bakugou is informed that Deku’s selflessness is in fact the reason All Might chose him. Since Bakugou had been in search of what he himself was “doing wrong” for All Might to favor Deku over him, he now has to reconcile the fact that selflessness is a heroic trait, and moreover something he lacks. This is also possibly the first time Bakugou is able to see his past actions toward Deku as bullying since he previously thought it was more mutual. Additionally, Bakugou can now link Deku’s selfless behavior to what he perceived as pity/contempt, and realize that Deku has been giving him A LOT of grace. Maybe too much. Maybe more than Bakugou deserves, and definitely more than Deku should have to. Holy heck- now Bakugou has to figure out how to live up to all the faith that’s been placed in him. 

Subtextually, we can see Bakugou’s feelings about atonement reflected in the Todoroki family:

1, Shouto is another example of Deku growing a friendship using his selflessness (since their fight in the sports festival) and their relationship is being acknowledged here where it hasn’t been in Bakugou’s situation. Perhaps Bakugou is wishing it could be so simple for him, to be able to thank him for being his friend like that. Deku saying the pleasure is all his also probably calls to mind how a mere apology from Bakugou would probably be dismissed because that’s just the kind of accommodating person Deku is. Bakugou has to operate more quietly in order to actually make up for their past. I personally don’t interpret this scene as Bakugou being jealous of Deku and Shouto’s friendship, exactly, just the lack of emotional baggage. Side note, Deku and Fuyumi are kinda similar in their desire to repair relationships. I like that she’s the one to give him some credit. 

2, With the common terminology, this can be interpreted as Bakugou receiving a model for atonement, one that is about action, and nothing to do with receiving favor or forgiveness. It’s a sense of duty. 

Many of the above sentiments are repeated in the flashback conversation between All Might and Bakugou right before Bakugou’s sacrifice. 

Bakugou acknowledges his bullying and that it happened because of his own insecurities, but aside from that, it’s interesting he neither confirms nor denies All Might’s suggestion that he’s trying to atone, or that Deku doesn’t see it that way. All Might is a bit of an unreliable mentor sometimes, but I don’t think he’s misreading here. Rather, Bakugou is displaying his tendency to hold back when talking about things that would make him really emotional. Besides, admitting to what he’s doing kind of defeats the purpose. He isn’t seeking acknowledgement. All Might has gotten to the crux of the issue here when pointing out that Deku doesn’t recognize the atonement, likely because Deku doesn't think Bakugou even needs to atone. Am I reading into it too much to say Bakugou looks wistful at this? It’s kinda frustrating sometimes trying to interpret Bakugou’s actions because he’s so paradoxical. Loud and in your face, but also extremely reserved. Sometimes I feel like I’m grasping at thin air, but hey, being hard to figure out is part of his intrigue as a character. The simplest way to look at him is to assume that unless he’s really showing vulnerability, he’s probably deflecting and hiding something.

Speaking of Bakugou’s tendency to to hold back emotional stuff, there’s his apparent lack of issue with Deku calling him Kacchan. Maybe to begin with, in his warped perception of things where he thought they hated each other, Bakugou saw it as Deku’s way of getting back at him for calling him “useless,” and didn't dare give any indication that it actually bothered him. However... consider how betrayed Bakugou has appeared when he was noticeably thinking Deku was looking down on him- the bridge scene, and the beginning of their first year at UA when he thought Deku was hiding a quirk all along. He looks shocked and hurt. That kind of emotion couldn’t be invoked by someone Bakugou didn’t actually care about his relationship with. “Kacchan” comes from a long time ago, before their relationship was strained, so it’s connotations are pure. Maybe somewhere deep down, Bakugou has always been hoping that Deku’s continued use of the nickname was not simply a matter of habit or teasing, but a vestige of friendship they’re both clinging to, and Bakugou himself was too afraid to admit to himself that he felt this way about it, so he mostly ignored it. (These are not original thoughts I am having here lol, this is a common interpretation. I’m just laying everything out like I said.) 

And now we turn to the current situation. Personally, I’ve been looking frantically back and forth between them wondering who’s going to break down first (Deku vs. Kacchan Part 3, this time it’s just a fight to get the other person to cry? ha.) Both have looked like they’re approaching a breaking point for some time. Also, I’ve addressed this before, but I think it’s significant that Bakugou is no longer wearing his mask with his hero costume, in contrast to Deku recently donning his own. It feels symbolic of Bakugou about to be upfront about how he feels.

The question is, what is it going to take to get Deku to accept help? If you ask me, Deku has dug himself so deeply into the I’m-doing-this-for-everyone-else’s-safety-and-smiles hole, no common sense argument can possibly reach him. By the end of 320, Deku’s mask is off, and we can see how desperate he truly is. But he has not cried, yet. I predict we’re going to see a bit more of his defiance, this time on full display on his face as the remaining class members and his other friends take their turns. But then I think Bakugou has to be the one to break down so Deku can witness his actions having the opposite effect he intended. People have been pointing out that Deku is currently ignoring Bakugou, and oof, that’s gotta be intentional. Regardless of what Bakugou says, it’s going to be wrapped up not only in his understanding of Deku’s self-sacrifice, but also the betrayal Bakugou feels at being ignored/left behind that ironically echoes his previous perception of being looked down on, as well as a need to express how much he cares about Deku before it’s too late. He must show that the two of them are inseparable because they both act to save each other without thinking, and both feel like losing the other would be like dying themselves. All Might may have been right when he told them they could learn from each other after Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2, but he didn’t fully realize that idea by making sure they stuck by each other for support and balance. 

I can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when they do finally get to that point, totally in synch and in tune with each other. They’ll be a powerful force no one is quite prepared for. Who knows when that will be, or even which chapter will be their big showdown, but I know the day is coming.

To speculate even further, I think the 2nd user is going to be really important really soon. And no I don’t mean to suggest that the 2nd user is Bakugou. But I do think their resemblance is key. Okay this is gonna be convoluted...

See how 2nd is the only one still standing? I think that’s symbolic of him withholding his quirk. Deku may not even know what it is at this point, let alone have unlocked it. Given that 2nd approves of Deku’s strategy at this point, it seems odd for him to withhold his quirk based on lack of faith. I think if his quirk was something that would help Deku in combat, he would have shown it to him already like the others did. So what if those gauntlets of his are support items that are meant to make up for his lack of a combat-oriented quirk, rather than to augment it? Mind you, I still have no idea what his mysterious power might be, but I’m dead set on it not being explosion-y. Regardless, I think 2nd looking like Bakugou is more about aiding some grand visual parallel, so! You know how 2nd and 3rd were probably intending to do away with Yoichi but 2nd changed his mind as soon as they made eye contact? This is really a long shot, but I wonder if 2nd’s quirk has something to do with that exchange. Maybe it’s something psychological, or some 6th sense about people he meets. So... in that way 2nd’s quirk could play a role in bkdk reaching a deeper understanding? Idk! But it could be significant at least that 2nd left Yoichi’s question about why he reached out to him unanswered. 

One more thing- while I was gathering screenshots I found this. I think “you’re the last one I’m telling” might be foreshadowing for Bakugou revealing his hero name to Deku and it being a Big Deal:

As for other lingering threads in the overall plot right now, such as the UA traitor, Stain, whatever Tsuyu is apparently about to do, All Might’s car maybe in the background of the last page of 320... man I have no idea. All I know is there’s literally 320 chapters’ worth of build-up to this confrontation that can’t be interrupted. 

See you next week <3

[heliotropehotch]

dumbass - a.h. x reader

A/N: ty to @bucksgoat​ and pinterest for the idea for this fic

words: 1663

author: abby

warnings: gunshot wounds, breakups, mention of death (haley, its very brief) (ends in fluff!)

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Garcia asked, panicked, opening her office door for her best friend. 

“I can’t keep pretending like I’m not in pain,” she leaned against the door, sliding town to the floor. “I can’t keep pretending it didn’t hurt.”

“What did he even say to you?” Y/N shook her head, tears clouding her vision. 

“I thought if I acted like it didn’t matter, then it wouldn’t. But I was wrong. In the back of my head all day, I’ve just been thinking about what happened and what I could’ve done differently and it’s eating me alive, not being able to understand what was so horrible about me that he didn’t want me anymore,” she cried pulling her knees into her chest. “Penny, he took my lungs from my chest and now I’m suffocating.”

“Have you told any of this to Hotch?” she knelt down, putting a hand on Y/N’s knee. “Maybe if you just talked it out, he could explain-”

“I don’t know if I can handle that,” she sighed. “I can’t handle him looking me in the eyes and telling me I’m not good enough. God, you should’ve seen the look on his face; he was disgusted with me, repulsed.”

“Y/N, Hotch-” she began before being interrupted by a loud banging on the door. 

“Garcia,” his unmistakable voice rang out. “We’ve got a case, meet in the briefing room in 15.”

Y/N sighed, untensing her body as the familiar gait of his walk faded away, she looked again at her best friend, with soft, sad eyes. 

“You’re leaving, aren’t you,” Garcia’s eyes welled up. You gave her a sad smile.

“I’m headed to Strauss’s now to ask for a transfer. This’ll be my last case I think,” she stood up, dusting off the back of her suit pants. “I love you, Pen. Don’t cry okay? I’ll still come visit you.”

She walked out the office, head high as she traveled to Strauss’s lion’s den. Meanwhile, Penelope Garcia stormed to the briefing room, with a head full of anger and tears. Morgan’s eyes went wide from the window of the briefing room. “Uh Hotch?” he pointed at the bright woman whose face might actually blow. “I think you’ve got a storm coming.”

Aaron looked up from shuffling files in his hands, eyebrows in their constant furrow, the door swung open, causing a look of shock to grace his features. 

“Babygirl,” Morgan tried to calm her, but she blatantly ignored his words.

“Hotch, sir,” she began with steady breathing. “You need to do something.”

“Garcia, it’s really not any of your business,” he sighed. 

“See that’s where you’re wrong,” he raised his eyebrows. “Don’t give me that look. It became my business once you became the reason why my best friend is transferring.”

“She’s what?” he asked softly in disbelief.

“Whoa, babygirl,” Morgan once again tried to intervene. “What are you talking about?”

She ignored him again. “I thought I knew why you did it but obviously not. What did you even say to her?”

Hotch looked down, ashamed. “Does it matter? If she hates me, then I’m not hurting her.”

“That’s the point!” Garcia all but shouted. “She doesn’t hate you. She absolutely and completely loves you. What she hates is herself,” she muttered the last part out.

“Wait she’s-”

“She’s questioning what the hell is wrong with her, is what she’s doing,” Garcia stood straight. “Sir, you have my complete and total respect one hundred percent of the time and what I say, I mean with that respect still here, but you were a total dumbass.”

Before he could see anything, the familiar clack of Y/N’s heels headed up the stairs. With a final look, Penny moved to sit down next to Morgan, who was still looking at her like she had grown a third eye. 

“Sorry I’m late,” she said sheepishly, barely loud enough for Hotch to hear it. She sat down next to Garcia, who’s hand immediately found hers in a comforting grasp. She noticed the eyes of her teammates on her, but refused to look at Hotch’s face. If she had, she would’ve seen guilt and worry. “What? Do I have something on my face?” she quickly swept under her eyes for stray tears. 

Hotch cleared his throat, distracting the team long enough to begin the briefing.

In West Virginia, in the Monongahela National Forest, a man had been capturing and killing people for sport. Both men and women in their early thirties had been picked up from the side of the road as hitchhikers and then taken to a small cabin to be literally slaughtered like animals. 

Now, at the residence, the team had the location surrounded, vest doting each of the members. Y/N entered the cabin, her gun drawn and focus centered on finding the unsub, with Hotch, Morgan, and Emily behind her. She found herself in a musty office, covered in old newspapers and various taxidermied animals hung on the walls.

In a recliner, sat an older man (as they had profiled) rifle drawn and aimed at her. The latest victim, Amy Townsend, was tied across the large wooden desk. 

“Richard,” Y/N said calmly. “I need you to put down your gun.”

“Not a chance in hell, sweetheart,” she grimaced at the nickname, as his arms tense and focused on his aim. 

“Your father used to take you hunting, didn’t he?” she asked, lowering her weapon. “He taught you everything you know.”

“And what of it?” he barked out. 

“I’m not here to hurt you,” she said calmly. “Not like he did.”

“You don’t know anything!” he shouted. The creak of a floorboard behind you signified someone else’s presence entering the room. Morgan attempted to make his way around to Amy. Richard’s eyes followed him.

“Hey, look at me,” Y/N redirected. “He’s just here to help her.”

“Bullshit.”

“We’re not going to hurt you Richard. Not if you just lower the gun and come with me. We just want to help.”

“Where were you to help when I was growing up?” he scoffed. “Where were you when my mamma had passed out from the pain?” he shouted, finger tightening against the trigger of the rifle. “Nah, I’m done with you. I’m done with liars.”

“Richard, don’t-” her voice was cut off by the blast of the gun hitting her shoulder. Morgan shot off a round, rendering the unsub. 

“Medic!” he shouted, running over to her as Emily rounded the corner and darted to Amy to help her. “Y/N, stay with me. Hotch! Where the fuck is the medic?”

“Morgan,” she got out, limply putting a hand against the one’s holding pressure on the wound. 

“Hey hey,” he hushed, wiping a stray tear from her eye. A gurney and EMTs began to crowd you. “It’s okay. Medic’s are here, we’re gonna take care of you.”

“Morgan, where’s Y/N-” Hotch’s words tied at the end of his tongue, finding her bloodied and weak form, eyes beginning to close. “Y/N?” 

To the best of her abilities, she turned to look at the man who had recently torn her heart out. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. And then her vision faded to black.

The rhythmic steady beeping of machines was the first thing she became aware of. Secondly, the sore, scratchy feeling in her throat. Then the warm fingers tightly wrapped around her own. 

A dark-haired head laid against the bed over folded arms. It wasn’t hard to imagine whose. With a grimace, she pulled her hand from his, causing him to sit up straight in his seat. Tired eyes met hers for the first time in what had felt like weeks. 

“You’re awake.” he noted softly, as she took in his face. Tired eyes, dark circles, worry lines ever so more prominent. 

“You’re still here,” her hoarse voice said. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused. “I had to make sure you were okay.”

“Sir,” the formality made him cringe. “Where is the rest of the team?”

“Out in the waiting room,” he sighed, moving closer to her. He didn’t ignore the way her body tensed. “Y/N we should talk.”

“Now?” she chuckled sadly. “I’ve only just woken up and you want to do this now?”

“Don’t transfer.”

Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “How did you-” she stopped herself. “I’m gonna kill Garcia.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Then what exactly did you mean to do?” she asked, angry now. “Because packing up your things and saying ‘we’re not right for each other’ definitely hurt, Aaron.”

“I thought I was protecting you,” he sighed again. 

“Protecting me? From what?” his eyes were sad as they searched hers for the right words to say. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Y/N-” 

“From yourself?” she sighed, reaching for water. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know that. I’m sorry,” his voice shook as he looked to the ground ashamed. 

“Aaron,” she said softly, putting a hand on her cheek. “I’m not her.”

His eyes searched yours once again, tearing up. “I almost lost you today. I thought maybe if I could let you go, I could keep you away from all the danger I bring with me.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” she said softly.

“What?”

“Aaron,” she smiled. “I chose this danger long before I chose you. You were just a bonus addition.”

He chuckled, kissing the palm of her hand. “Please forgive me, love.”

“I forgave you the moment you left,” she hummed. “But if you ever even think about doing that shit again, I’ll have Garcia personally beat you up.”

He chuckled again, “Understood. What about Strauss?”

“Strauss,” her confusion was evident once more, before chuckling herself. “I hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk to her yet. Guess I’ll have to deal with your dumbass just a bit longer.”

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / RREV / NEXT

Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.  

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights. 

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

 “Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out. 

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something.  It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.  

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.” 

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines. 

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.  

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

 It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display.  There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain. 

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy  students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights. 

Different words…different priorities. 

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end. 

...

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks. 

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and  the larger shower blocks which housed  cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

NEXT  

[fastcarsfasthearts]

Oh, another deeply personal post, yay! So, this morning I put on my new running shoes, my new men’s running shorts, put earbuds in my ears with a rock playlist of 170-180 bpm songs and got on a run...

...for the first time in over 2 years.

In 2018 and 2019 depression slowly took so many things away from me: it took away my joy and motivation in doing things I used to love, it took away most of my friends (except a few, who are the most amazing persons in the world and who never gave up on me), it took away my sleep, it took away my ability to draw (which is a primary need for me, like eating or breathing)... and it also took away any motivation I had left to take good care of my body and to keep it active and trained. 

I hated my stupid body and I didn’t have any kind of energy left in myself, not physical nor mental... so why should have I spent any of my very dainty energy left in a useless effort to take care of it? Two whole years passed like this. Meanwhile quarantine made me grow even more conscious of myself and what I don’t like about myself and my body... meanwhile the level of gender envy I started experiencing towards certain men grew exponentially.

So, a couple of weeks ago I told myself: “Ok, I’m done feeling all this unbearable gender envy for Daniel. I have to do something about it. I used to be an athlete and have a well trained body. I used to look more masculine and the only reason I felt uncomfortable about it was bc society made me feel wrong for not performing femininity as I was supposed to, since I’m afab. I used to feel wrong for liking having muscular legs and broad shoulders. But not anymore. I want to regain my muscles and try to be more me. I’ve got nothing to lose, anyway.” SO! I bought some equipment to start training at home and rebuild some decent muscles on my body. And I actually started! Dan’s victory from last Sunday left me emotionally overwhelmed. Not only bc he’s my fav driver (together with Max), but also bc seeing him struggle during this whole season made me empathize and project a lot more on him. Bc everybody were saying that he was struggling too much and that his career was probably finished. He proved everybody wrong. And he did it spectacularly.

This aussie, all smiles and sunshine on the outside and struggles and pain on the inside, gives me a lot of hope. Everybody thought he was a failure but he’s not. We’re also almost the same age, and that’s probably another reason why I empathize with him so much

I want to try and get back on my feet and prove everybody wrong too. And it’s mainly thanks to him that I was finally able to find the motivation to actually start doing something about it. And starting taking care of myself a little more. And working towards being a version of myself that feels more ME.

I’m just at the start and I have a very long road to travel. But I’m glad I finally found the strength and motivation to start. 

For anybody thinking F1 is just a stupid meaningless sport consisting in 20 men running in circles on very fast cars: I personally found out that it’s so much more than just that. 

At least it means so much more to me.

[hb-writes]

A Little Raven

Written in response to Hauntober prompt #15: Raven.

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe! A chat between sisters-in-law followed by a chat between Lizzie and Tommy. This is a bit long and self-indulgent and might not be particularly consistent with canon but oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Characters Featured: Lizzie Shelby, Clara Shelby (Shelby!Sister), Tommy Shelby

—–

“Frances said you wanted me first?” 

Lizzie turned from the window, allowing the passage of a brief smile as she glanced at her sister-in-law. Like her husband, Lizzie still saw a couple of kids when she looked at Clara and Finn, still saw the little girl who passed her time with books and papers while sitting on the stoop at Watery Lane, still saw the boy with a keen eye for mischief and a disposition towards unsanctioned sweets. She supposed those visions still held true. None of them were so different to be unrecognizable through the years. Some traits endured the transition to adulthood, no matter what transpired in the interim. 

Clara stripped out of her coat, placing it over the back of the chair before following Lizzie’s gaze out to the yard where Ruby and Charles played with the nanny, their squeals and laughter sharp and clear through the pane of the closed window. 

Clara sat in one of the armchairs, pulling her feet up and working on untying her boot laces while she waited. She was used to the reticent moments, used to people taking their time in revealing why she’d been summoned somewhere in the first place. She found it a pleasant change for Lizzie to be inviting her to the drawing-room for a visit rather than Tommy summoning her to his office for one of his chats, even if her sister-in-law was very clearly preoccupied.  

The thud of Clara’s shoes hitting the floor as she slipped them off her feet pulled Lizzie’s eyes towards her for a moment before she settled them on the girl’s discarded boots, understated but still expensive, something Tommy had probably paid for. 

Lizzie wasn’t ignoring her on purpose, Clara knew that. She was just distracted, caught up in her own thoughts, turning something over in her mind. Clara just wasn’t certain how she fit into those thoughts.

“Lizzie?” Clara said.

“Mmm?” Lizzie hummed, finally fixing her eyes on Clara.

“You did ask for me, right?” Clara said. 

“I suppose you’d prefer to go be with the children,” Lizzie mused. “Or to go say hello to your brother?” 

“Is he home already?” Clara asked, glancing down at the small watch on her wrist as she adjusted the clock face. It was barely past five.

Lizzie scoffed, gave a single shake of her head. Tommy was eternally late in coming home, and habitually premature in leaving it.

“Well, that leaves more time for us to catch up, then,” Clara offered, absently kneading the arch of her foot. “I came home to be with all of you, Lizzie.”

“Right, all of us,” Lizzie answered, sitting down in an adjacent armchair. “When’s the last time you saw all of us here, Clara? When’s the last time he graced us with his presence at a decent hour?”

It was the previous Sunday, Clara remembered, and he’d come out of his office just before dinner, played with Charles and Ruby a bit before eating with Clara, Lizzie, and the kids, but Clara had the feeling Lizzie didn’t want to be reminded of that.

“Did you talk to him?” Clara asked.

Lizzie took a deep breath and nearly gagged, feeling as though she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from conjuring up the contents of her latest meal, the sick feeling in her stomach beyond the typical bout of morning sickness, more of a nauseating dread which had settled in the pit of her stomach.

The last time she’d been here, in this condition, Lizzie had been optimistic. Nearly five years later, she felt anything but. And despite all the strength she’d decided on summoning, despite deciding to stay, to accept Tommy and his faults, to balance her head against her heart, she hadn’t planned on this as a part of the deal.

‘A little you and me,’ she’d offered Tommy when she’d told him of the first baby growing inside of her, a smile on her face, a bit of hope in her heart. 

She had little hope this time, little positivity about the life prospects for yet another child of Thomas Shelby, a little boy nonetheless, a little raven-haired boy who would have his parents’ blue eyes, his father’s strong jaw, the unmistakable markings of a Shelby.

If Tommy had kept all of his promises, if he’d done right and put a proper stop to the sport for anyone named Shelby. If he’d kept Finn and Clara away from the life, Lizzie might have thought differently. She might have felt nothing but happiness at the prospect of another child with a little tuft of raven hair and bright blue eyes, but in half a decade, Tommy had dealt her plenty of empty assurances.

She feared enough for the children already. Her Ruby was a different child around her father, a bit nervous, a bit quiet. The girl didn’t know the same Tommy that Clara and Finn knew, nor the father Charlie had had for a time, at least while he was young.

This baby would never know that version of Tommy either, not really. Her children would spend their lives distant from the man they called dad, and there was part of Lizzie that didn’t think it to be a terrible thing.

Clara reached out to clasp Lizzie’s hand. “Lizz--”

“Polly says it’s a boy.”

“Oh,” Clara answered, pulling her hand back. “That’s--”

Lizzie cleared her throat and continued. “A little raven-haired boy named James.” She opened her cigarette case, placed the fag between her lips. “Jamie,” she added. “And no, I haven’t told your brother.” 

Clara frowned. She was tired of holding the secret she’d accidentally overheard when Lizzie confided in Polly. She was tired of pretending with her brother, tired of avoiding him. It wasn’t easy work, withholding information from him because, despite the best of Clara’s efforts, Tommy possessed an uncanny ability to know when his sister was keeping something from him. 

“He loves being a father, Lizzie. He’ll be--”

“Happy?” she suggested. “I’m less worried about your brother being happy than I am worried for all of you kids.” 

“All of us?”

Lizzie lit the cigarette, puffing before she pointed it at Clara.

“Yes, you and Finn are included.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Lizzie.” 

“Right, with Finn running around getting himself shot and you--”

“What about me?”

“Neither one of you kids has a healthy sense of self-preservation, always pushing when you haven’t a need, and you’ve passed it right on to those two. Maybe it’s in the blood, an inherited recklessness that--” 

“Is that really what you’re worried about? That I’ve taught the kids to stand up for themselves and I’ll teach the baby the same?” Clara asked.

Lizzie glanced out the window again, the things she was truly scared about swirling in her mind while she watched Ruby and Charles holding hands as they went round in circles.

“It’s a bad omen, a raven,” she said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Clara answered. “A baby can’t be a bad omen.”

Lizzie was beginning to believe that the Shelby name was a curse and that despite her husband’s promises, not one of the kids would live a life unmarred by it, not Finn, not Clara, not Charles nor Ruby, and not the unborn son growing in her womb. And despite knowing Thomas Shelby loved the children, she feared what she already knew to be true, that loving a person wasn’t always enough.

These days, Tommy’s moments of softness were harder to come by. The types of moments Clara held on to when her brother was difficult, the moments that reminded her through the tough spots that he did much of what he did out of love, for protection or survival. Lizzie didn’t know her children would have that, didn’t know that a raven-haired boy looking just like his father could ever garner as much care as he’d deserve from the man, enough of the affection that he would need to someday to get through the tough spots. 

“He’s not how he once was with you,” Lizzie said.

“He’s not been like that for a long while, Lizzie, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love them.” 

“I know he loves them, loves all of you, but I worry someday they won’t have memories enough to forgive him as you do.” 

“I don’t forgive him because of the memories, Lizzie,” Clara answered. “I forgive him because he’s nearly my father and because I know he cares for me as much as I care for him. Ruby and Charles know that. Jamie will, too.”

Clara joined Lizzie on the couch. “And regardless, you care for us all well enough whether that fool joins us for dinner or not.”

Lizzie set her cigarette down in the tray and accepted Clara’s offered hug, allowing herself to release a breath of relief with the girl in her arms. 

“Well, that may be, but it doesn’t settle my nerves about you and Finn,” Lizzie said as she pulled away.

Clara rolled her eyes. “You’ve not--”

“Glad I’m not the only one concerned.” 

Clara glanced at her watch again before looking at Tommy where he stood by the door. “You’ve actually come early?”

He nodded. “Someone had Adam make it very clear in my diary that I was meant to be home at a respectable hour today.” 

Clara hummed, feigning an impressed surprise, as though she hadn’t begged Tommy’s personal secretary at the commons to adjust his schedule to accommodate him being back in Warwickshire so early on a Friday evening. 

“Right. I think I’ll leave you two and go say hello to Charlie and Ruby while we wait on Finn,” Clara offered, slipping past Tommy on her way to the door. 

“Forgetting something, Clara?”

Clara turned back to him, snatching the forgotten boots from his outstretched hand.

“When our brother gets in, we can have a talk about your excursion in London on Tuesday evening, eh?”

Clara sighed. “I think we’re a bit old for a lecture, Tommy. It was nothing.”

“Seems like you two idiots’ll never be too old for a lecture,” he answered. “But go on. Go see the kids. I’m sure they’ve been asking after you all day.” 

Tommy watched his sister leave before taking the seat beside his wife. “Now, while we wait for Finn, you and I can have a talk about that baby you’ve got growing inside you, eh Lizzie?”

Lizzie scoffed. "Polly told you then? Or was it Clara?”

Tommy shook his head. Of course, his sister knew. He cleared his throat. 

“It was actually you, Lizzie,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Been eating honey on everything. Last time you did that was when you were pregnant with our Ruby.” 

Lizzie nodded, looked out at the kids again, saw Clara had joined Ruby and Charles, and the three of them were laughing like a set of maniacs as they ran about the lawn.

“You’re worried,” Tommy offered, guiding his wife’s face to his. “Let me into that head of yours, Lizzie.” 

She leaned into his touch as he cupped her cheek, allowed herself that comfort.  

“To clear it out?” she mumbled.

Tommy nodded. “To clear it out. Just like we agreed.” 

Lizzie placed her hand on top of his.

“Ruby’ll be asking after another sister.”

“Well, she’ll be disappointed then,” Lizzie answered. “It’s a boy.”

Tommy nodded. There was a time when he thought it mattered, back when boys became blinders and girls were considered liabilities but Tommy had stopped thinking that way, started thinking that Lizzie was right. And Grace had been right. There was only one way to keep them all safe.

“Either way,” he answered. “Another little you and me, eh?”

Lizzie nodded and Tommy pulled his eyes away at the approaching footsteps and laughter as Ruby and Charlie piled into the room.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

“And what have you lot been up to, eh?” Tommy asked, pulling Ruby into his lap as Charlie came to sit beside them.

“We’ve been playing, daddy!” Ruby said.

“Dad, Aunt Clara said she and Uncle Finn are ready for a shouting at whenever you are,” Charlie said. “They went to your office.”

Tommy shook his head, glanced quickly at Lizzie before he looked back to his boy. 

“What are you going to shout at them for, daddy?” Ruby asked, turning her head to look up at him.

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” Tommy answered.

“He’s gonna shout because they’ve been naughty,” Charles said to his sister. 

“Don’t shout very much, daddy,” Ruby answered. “It’ll ruin our supper.” 

“I’m not going to shout. We’re just going to have a talk about them setting a better example for you kids.”

“And then we’ll have supper?” Ruby asked.

“Then supper, Ruby,” he said. “I had Frances ask chef to make a special honey cake for dessert.”

“For mummy?” Ruby asked. “Mummy loves honey cake.” 

“And for your baby brother,” Lizzie answered, pulling Ruby’s hand to rest on her stomach. “The one growing in my belly.”

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder stories here.

[ciggylungz]

Rivals

Summary: Y/n and Harry are both CEO’s of their parent’s companies since they inherited the businesses from them, they’ve been rivals since they were kids- now that they’re professional adults how will their rivalry affect them?   2.2k

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It’s no secret that growing up with a workaholic parent is hard for a kid, but for Y/n it was amplified due to the fact both her parents owned one of the most famous fashion companies in the world. This meant during most of her childhood she relied on nannies, private drivers, maids and child minders to care for her in absence of her busy working parents.

Of course having absent parents gave her some perks during her teen years, the ability to throw ragers in the absurdly large mansion they’d bought for the three of them –(well, they were hardly in it so mainly just their daughter)- not having to worry about getting caught when she decided to bring people over to get a quick shag in and the plus of having no one to bother her during her angsty middle school years. Those things were nice, yet you really can’t replace the role of your parents with teenage hookups and parties.

If there’s one thing that she absolutely hated about her parents work, it would be their former business partners cunt of a son. Harry Styles. Y/n had been forced to be in the twats life since they were 10 and his father joined stocks in her parents company before investing fully and becoming business partners. For Y/n that meant being forced to be around their son whenever their parents were too busy crushing numbers or out on boozy business trips clogging their noses with high end coke and buying out their competitors.

Harry was always a good-looking boy, and that only made things worse because he was a total prick. He was arrogant, annoying and always got away with being the biggest pain in the ass y/n has ever experienced in her life. He was insanely competitive, cocky and always found a way to weasel into Y/n’s business just to push her buttons. One’s he knew how to push perfectly to make her want to pound his head off a blacktop.

It was almost as if when it came to Y/n he never matured past being a 12-year-old boy, and now he’s a 23 year old powerful business man who still can’t manage to leave her alone.

Y/n had inherited her parents’ company when they decided to retire, two years before the retirement her parents and Harrys father had severed their ties and he’d gone back to his independent company. And just y/n’s luck, the man passed his roll as CEO down to his son, making the two young adults’ owners of two of the most famous fashion and beauty companies to ever exist.

Make no mistake, Y/n was a strong, independent and ruthless business woman so Harry’s subsequent inheritance didn’t threaten her in a business sense it more so made her worried for her blood pressure since the man couldn’t help but come bother her every chance he got. It didn’t help his dad had a single remaining stock left in the shoe portion of their clothing company giving Harry the perfect excuse to come barging into Y/n’s office to get on her nerves. To Y/n Harrys like a cold sore that won’t go away, just keeps coming back every time you think you’ve gotten rid of it.

___

Today was a busy day for Y/n, she had a meeting with her team that worked closely with her managing profit, stock, inventory, sales and all that stuff. Her team was large, with a company with over two thousand distributors worldwide and thirty-five exclusive stores scattered around the globe that’s to be expected. All in all, Y/n was responsible for making sure all one hundred and fifty thousand employees were running a smooth ship and every participating party was doing what they needed to do. It was a stressful job no doubt, but she never backed down from the challenge.

The meetings were always her least favorite part of her job. All the paper work that had to be read, numbers calculated, sales charted and any complaints or incident reports all had to be verbalized and talked about in detail with documentation of all the important things said as well as much more. Today the meeting took a grueling four and a half hours and the day was far from over.

Once she got out of her meeting it was nearing noon, she had to push her lunch off to phone the companies attorneys because one worker was trying to do a fake insurance claim. The man faked a work accident failing to remember every warehouse and factory was littered with security cameras that caught him in the act, so she had to inform them of the situation so they could sort it out. After that she got sucked into looking at new designs her design team had come up with for the next season, explaining that Chanel and Gucci both wanted to work with them to carry a few exclusive items only for that season.

Finally, at half passed two she made it back to her office, sitting down in her desk chair while taking her hair out of the headache inducing ponytail it had been in since she got there at five that morning. She opened her laptop, planning to send off some emails while she put in her order for lunch to her assistant, getting as much done as she could in the little bit of private time she was able to snag.

A knock sounded at the door, she knew it was Morgan coming in with the food she ordered so she didn’t bother to look up from what she was doing very drawn in to the email she was currently formatting. Only her attention was quickly severed when his voice rang out instead of the one she expected.

“I believe you ordered the chop salad, diet coke and fruit for lunch misses Yln.”

That annoying, cocky voice. You can hear his shit eating grin and teasing eyes simply in his tone, you don’t even have to look up at the jerk.

A prolonged sigh blew out of her lips, a grunt of annoyance following as she looked up at him. He looked nice, as always, she added bitterly in her own mind. She hated the fact someone so goddamn irritating was so undeniably attractive. He wore a dark blue suit, white button up with a black tie and yellow accent pocket square. Yet his fashion and handsomeness seemed a bit overshadowed by his personality that had the same affect on the woman as nails on a chalkboard.

“Harry, to what do I owe the displeasure?” Y/n reached her arm across the desk to snatch the paper bag from his ring clad hands, a sarcastic disapproving finger was pointed at her yet she didn’t take his bait opting to give him the death stare instead.

“Sassy today are we?” The man rested himself on the small leather loveseat that was in her office, propping his head on a throw pillow and putting his feet on the armrest. “You act like you’re not happy to see me, I know yeh missed me.” Y/n rolled her eyes, digging her fork into the salad aggressively. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been happy to see you, and I’m certain no one has ever missed your presence either.”

Harry chuckled slightly, loving how easily he could annoy the girl. Over the past thirteen years he’s learned just how to get under her skin, and he enjoyed doing so.

“Bit feisty today aren’t yeh Y/n? playing hard to get I see.” The man folded his hands on top of his chest, completely relaxing into the comfortable furniture, making himself comfortable for the undetermined amount of time he’d be spending there irritating his childhood ‘friend’.

The difference between Harry and Y/n’s perspectives on their rather odd ‘relationship’, if you could really call it that is Harry never hated Y/n. In fact he was always quite fond of her, he enjoys her company even when he’s forcing it on her and using the shared time to annoy the ever loving shit out of her. He and the woman have always been competitive growing up. In sports, card games, classes, and now business and Y/n took things a lot more seriously then he did. she was always wound a bit tight, she gets it from her mother.

Harry and Y/n had an interesting past. They have a love-hate relationship, seeing as even through the perpetual animosity they’ve carried since they were kids they did have their good moments too. And though Y/n would never admit it, there’s a part of her that does actually care about him even if she loathes that part of her deeply. In their teens they were at each other throats a lot, but in between that they would occasionally have their good days where they would refrain from getting into screaming matches and instead would be able to tolerate being together. Y/n chooses to describe it as tolerating him since she’d never admit she sometimes enjoys his company.

Through their formative years whenever Y/n was throwing a party, she wouldn’t protest when her friends would invite Harry as well. Pretending like she didn’t know he was coming and didn’t want him there when she saw him in the crowd, yet he always had a feeling she was anticipating and secretly wanted him to make an appearance. When he’d plan some sort of adventure with their friends he’d do the same, always slightly relieved when she’d show up but he’d put on the irritating act as soon as he got the chance which ruined her mood, every time. and well, it would be a lie to say the two never found themselves hate fucking each other after one of their parties, drunk and pissed at each other only to pretend like it had never happened.

To Harry, the animosity mixed with a hidden sense of fondness and maybe even a hint of attraction.

The woman ignored his comment, chewing her food before taking a swig of the soda looking back at him with a rather unamused expression. “What do you want Harry? And who the hell even let you in here?” she continued eating and wrapping up her email while he formed his reply. “Told Morgan I’d bring it up to yeh, she’s got a bit of a crush on me so she handed it over without much convincing.” Yet another eyeroll from Y/n was delivered. “She’s like 19, don’t manipulate her into worming into my office just because she can’t see that you’re a much bigger prick then the one in your pants will ever be.”

“First of all, 19 is legal so if she wants to eye fuck me I’ll allow it. Second, don’t be rude. This is a professional setting, do you think it’s appropriate to talk about my genitals in the work place? Might have to report you.”

Y/n couldn’t help the small snort she let out at his antics. As much as he annoyed her, sometimes she did find him a bit humorous. “and for the record, I’m very happy with my package and I don’t appreciate that comment.” He pointed a finger at her, a fake angry look on his face. “Just as much as I don’t appreciate you intruding on what was supposed to be my down time to eat, we’re even shrimp dick.”

Harry gasped at the insult, squinting at her slightly. While Harry was skilled in pressing her buttons, she could do it the same. Making comments on his dick size, sex skills, business deals or things of that nature always got him riled up. That 12-year-old boy mentality rearing it’s ugly head any time she makes a comment about his dick being small. Childish he was, absolutely childish.

“Don’t get smart with me, I’ll whip it out right here to prove my point.” His eyebrow raised and she could see him chewing on his cheek in annoyance. She truly found it funny how peeved she could make a grown man by making fun of his penis. He was ridiculous.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t, I didn’t bring my mental scrub brush to work with me today.” When she had finished speaking the woman tossed her now empty salad box into the trash, taking another sip of her drink and finally sending off the painfully long email.

Harry decided it was time for him to head back to his own office, which was right across the street much to Y/n’s displeasure but of course he couldn’t leave without a final childish jab at the woman.

“Just remember, I’ve had you bouncing on my dick more than once. Don’t hold yourself so high and mighty dear, because we both know I’ll have you like that again.”

And with that a Harry with a cheeky smirk on his face left the office, leaving a slightly stunned Y/n in his wake.

 (eek pt.1 lets see how this one goes.)

[aces-to-apples]

Your Reputation Precedes You

A response to “On Fandom Racism (and That Conlang People Are Talking About)” because lmao that cowardly bitch just hates getting feedback from people that she can’t then harass into oblivion

i.e. God I Wish I Could Use The Tag Fandom Wank Without The Titty Police Nerfing My Post

-

To be frank, I'm not here because I think you or any of your little cronies are going to change your minds. If the 'name' wasn't a giveaway, your group of ~likeminded individuals~ have quite the reputation for espousing ableist, antisemitic, and, yes, racist views under wafer-thin the veneer of "calling out racism." I think we both know that what you're actually doing is using the relative anonymity of the internet and progressive language to abuse, harass, and bully fans that you personally disagree with. You and your group are toxic, hateful, and utterly pathetic, using many peoples' genuine desire to avoid accidentally causing harm and twisting it into this horrid parade of submissiveness to You, The One And Only Arbiter Of Truth And Justice In Fandom. Never mind that you have derided autistic people as lacking compassion and empathy, that you've used racist colonizer dogwhistles to describe a fictional culture based heavily on real live Maori culture, that you've mocked the idea of characters having PTSD, or that vital mental health services are anything more than "talking about your feelings with friends uwu." Let's just ignore that you have ridiculed the idea of adults in positions of power exerting that power over children in harmful and abusive ways, that creating transformative fan-content that doesn't adhere to the spirit of canon or wishes of the original author garners derision and hatefulness from you, and that you've used classic abuser tactics in order to gaslight people in your orbit into behaving more submissively towards you in order to avoid more verbal abuse.

Let's toss all of that crucial context aside in favor of only what you've written here.

What you've written here is nearly 3,000 entire words based on, at best—though, admittedly, based on your previous behavior, I am actually not willing to extend to you an iota of good faith—fallacious reasoning. You posit that a constructed language, to be used by a fictional religious group located in an entirely different galaxy than our own, is othering, racist in general, and anti-Asian specifically. This appears based in several suppositions, the first being that a language unknown by the reader will, by nature, cause the reader to feel alienated from the characters and therefore less sympathetic, empathetic, and caring towards the characters. That idea is patently ridiculous and, I believe, says far more about your ability to connect to a character speaking an unfamiliar language than any kind of overarching truth about media and the human condition. New things are interesting; new things are fun; the human brain is wired from birth to be fascinated with new things, to want to take them apart, find out how they work, and enjoy both the process and the results.

The second supposition this fallacy is based upon appears to be that to move away from the blatant Orientalism of Star Wars is inherently anti-Asian. While I find it... frankly, a little bit sad that you cling so viciously to the Orientalist, appropriative roots of Star Wars as some form of genuine representation, that's really none of my business. If you feel that a Muslim-coded character bombing a temple and becoming a terrorist and a Sith, a white woman wearing Mongolian wedding garb, a species of decadent slug-like gangsters smoking out of hookahs and keeping attractive young women chained at their feet (as it were), a species of greedy money-grubbers with exaggerated features and offensively stereotypical "Asian" accents, and an indigenous people wearing modesty garb based on the Bedu people and treated by most characters as well as the narrative as mindless animals deserving of murder and genocide are appropriate representation of the many, varied, and beautiful cultures around the world upon which they were "based," then that is very much your business. Until you pull shit like this. Until you accuse other fans, who wish to move away from such offensive coding and stereotypes, of erasing Asian culture from Star Wars. Then it becomes everyone's business, especially when you are targeting a loving and enthusiastic group of fans who are pouring their hearts and souls into creating an inventive and non-appropriative alternative to canon.

Which leads into the third supposition, that a patently racist, misogynistic white man in the 1970s, and then again in the 1990s, intended his universe to be an accurate and respectful portrayal of the various cultures he stole from. I understand that for your group of toxic bullies, the term "Death of the Author" holds no real meaning, but the simple fact of the matter is that George Lucas based his white-centered space adventure on Samurai movies while removing the cultural context that gave them any meaning, because he liked the idea of swords and noble warriors in space. He based the Force and the Jedi Order on belief systems such as Taoism and Buddhism, but only on the surface, without putting any real effort into into portraying them earnestly or accurately. He consistently disrespected both characters of color and characters coded to be a certain race, ethnicity, culture, or religion, and likewise disrespected and stole from the cultures upon which he based them. He was, and continues to be, a racist white man who wrote a racist story. His universe has Orientalism baked into its every facet, and the idea that fans who wish to move away from this and interrogate and transform the text into something better than what it is are racist is not only laughable, but incredibly disingenuous and insidious.

As I said, I am not writing this to change your mind, because I truly believe that you already know that "cOnLaNgS aRe RaCiSt" is a ridiculous statement. The way you've comported yourself in fandom spaces thus far has shown to me that you are nothing more than a bully who knows that the anti-racist movement in fandom can be co-opted for your benefit. If you tout your Asian heritage and use the right language, make the "right" accusations and take advantage of white guilt and white ignorance, you can have dozens of people falling at your feet, begging for forgiveness, for absolution. And I think that gives you a thrill. So, no, none of this will change your mind because none of this is genuinely about racism—it's about power, it's about control, it's about fandom being the only space where you have some.

So I'm writing this for the creators of this wonderful conlang, which has been crafted by multiple people including people of color, who don't deserve this nonsensical vitriol, and for the fans reading this manipulative hate-fest, wondering if they really are Evil Racists because they don't participate in fandom the way you think they should.

Here it is: fandom has a lot of racism, antisemitism, misogyny, queerphobia, ableism, etc. baked into it. Unfortunately, such is the nature of living and growing up in societies and cultures that have the same. The important thing is to independently educate yourself on those issues and think critically about them—not "think critically" as in "to criticize" them, but to analyze, evaluate, pick apart, examine, and reconstruct them again in order to come to a well thought-out conclusion. Read this well-articulated attack on a group of fans who have always welcomed feedback and participation, are open about their backgrounds, their strengths and weaknesses, and wonder who is actually being genuine.

Is it the open and enthusiastic group who ask for the participation of others in this labor of love? Or is it the ringleader of a group of well-known bullies who have manipulated, gaslit, and then subsequently love-bomb people who did not simply roll over at the slightest hint of dominance? The ones who spent hours upon hours tearing apart, mocking, deriding, and falsely accusing authors of fanworks and metatextual works of various bigotries and -isms, knowing that those evaluations were spurious and meant only to cause harm, not genuine examinations of the works themselves or even presumed authorial intent. The ones who made their own, quote-unquote, community so negative and toxic that even after the departure of a large portion of them, including this author in particular, that community still has a reputation for being hateful, toxic, and full of mean-spirited harassers who will never look critically about their own behavior but only ever point fingers at others. The ones who are so very determined to cause misery wherever they go that as soon as their usual victims are no longer immediately available, they will turn on each other at the slightest hint of weakness.

This entire piece of (fan)work is misinformed at the most generous, disingenuous at the most objective, and downright spiteful when we get right into it. The creators of Dai Bendu, along with various other works, series, and fan events that these people personally dislike, have been targeted because it is so much easier to harass, bully, and use progressive language as a weapon against them, than it is to put any effort into making fandom spaces more informed, more positive, more respectful.

As someone rather eloquently put it, community is not a fucking spectator sport. You want a better community, you gotta work at it. And conversely, what you put into your community is what you'll get out of it. This author and their friends have put a lot of hate into their communities, and now they're toxic cesspools that people stay well away from, for fear of contracting some terrible form of harassment poisoning.

Congrats, Ri, you've gotten just what you wanted: adoring crowds listening to you spout your absolutely heinous personal views purely to live out some kind of power fantasy, and the rest of us staying well away, because fuck knows nothing kind, helpful, or in good faith has ever come from Virdant or her echo-chamber of petty, spiteful assholes.

No love, bad night.

P.S. Everyone actually in the Dai Bendu server knows your ass got kicked because you didn’t say shit for a full thirty days and ignored the announcement that inactive members would be culled. You ain’t cute pretending like it’s because you were ~*~Silenced~*~ after ~*~Valiantly~*~ attempting to call out racism. We see you.

[dragonherder2030]

Smaugust Day 9: Galaxy

I’m leaving tomorrow morning, my sister is going to look over the farm while I’m away. Echo Bel and Kory are coming with me, they can help with transportation and have separation anxiety. Xandra is showing me her camp, she has many followers, I’m going to be the first lizard to join it. That fact will be kept secret from the rest of the “humans” as to not cause hysteria, she has done the same with herself, hiding herself as an amphibian. I’m bringing my journal, I need to be able to write my thoughts

See you soon, Niki~

*we find out who the narrator is 👀. Another first person written segment, hopefully this one won’t be as long XD. Also, if by the end of Smaugust I feel there are some odd unintended plot holes or threads that need to be resolved I’ll make sure to do so. Ik it’s confusing right now, but I will continue right where we left off on the last writing segment for easiness*

Half my tea was gone in under a minute, it was jasmine green from what I tasted and was made very well.

“Please do explain what you mean by non-lizard kind though… Are you talking Amphibious sentience?” I ask, leaning back on the couch I had been placed on.

“No not sentient Amphibians that walk like us, I mean a species on another planet called Humans. They are a scaleless race with no tails, and can grow fur at an alarming rate. They can be dangerous to us, but not all of them. If you join me you can meet them, but many of them do not have the best interests of the dragons in mind.” Her creature tightened itself onto her neck. Has it experienced these “humans” before?

“Does that planet have dragons too? Also how do you, uh, go to another planet? Do you have access to a rocket?”

“No, I have something much better and easier to fuel… but you have to commit before learning of that. Keep your questions to a minimum till I finish explaining please, it will be easier.” Saying with a small hand wave. I nob in agreement.

“The planet is called earth and is very similar to ours. But dragons do not live naturally there, and have been brought there by a lizard who wanted a new environment for sport hunting, and didn’t get them all… They ended up breeding and creating homes for themselves, few and far apart. I used to monitor and catch some of the dragons to bring them back when I could along with my brother. When he passed I couldn’t do it by myself anymore, so I seeked the assistance of other lizards to return the dragons to their natural habitat. Not many believed me, and those who did I knew didn’t have the intentions of the animals in mind. So, I decided to start recruiting humans using my magic-“

“Wait wait wait, you have magic abilities?” I ask, needing to know more about this.

“Yes I possess magic, I’m no lizard, but we don’t need to know about that for now. All you need to know is that I can give objects the ability to transform a human into a lizard or amphibian sentient if worn, that’s what I can do,” Xandra says with a sigh. I speculate what she could be, and remember a legend about the creation of our world, something similar to that happening, where a being gave sentience to all of the lizards, and later some of the amphibians. There was another part of it where they wiped out a different race beforehand but I couldn’t remember it too well.

Xandra continued her explanation, “I chose humans because they would do the best capturing dragons in the human planet, since they are not killed on sight when seen… The humans I choose were specifically selected by my familiar, Davey here,” She pointed to the amphibian around her neck, it seemed to smile in admiration of its role.

“They are small enough to avoid detection from the humans, and not popular enough to be sought out, and they are very fast. Easily able to escape a human. I’ve gotten quite the following from animal lovers around earth, and luckily most of them speak English or know sign language, Davey doesn’t go far from our camp.”

“What do you guys Uh, do? Do you go to the human world and just, catch the dragons? And why don’t you just tell the humans that the dragons are an invasive species and, I guess take them back?” I ask, confused what I would actually be doing and why the humans are a problem.

Xandra’s calm demeanor shifted, and her eyebrows furrowed, “Most humans want the dragons, but I know they aren’t safe there. They would be hunted for sport and put in cages. I’ve watched them for thousands of years, they will never accept the dragons as any more then a fantasy creature for decoration. And for some reason now there are more being found, species that weren’t brought to earth from that initial leak. There’s another source, someone from this planet that has access to Earth and is exploiting it to bring dragons there. You can help me find them, and allow me to have more allies on this side. Plus the place I’m keeping the dragons isn’t safe anymore, I need somewhere here I can put them with someone to take care of them.” Her voice had raised slightly, this is a subject she is angry about. She must have witness terrible things. I think it’s an amazing idea, I have the whole farm I could keep the dragons. Acres of land I’m not using right now could be put to this. I didn’t care if she was legit or not, I believed her.

“Ok, I’m convinced… I want to help. I have a farm that can serve as a holding place for the dragons until we can bring them to their rightful places,” I say, trying to hide the excitement in my voice. She smiles at me, looking satisfied.

“My camp, it is all humans, they do not know of our reptilian existence, to them they are the last of the reptile kind. So to them, your just another new human recruit. That means,” Xandra gets up, walking towards the closet I had noticed before, “that means that you have to pick out an accessory to simulate the effect of you being a fake lizard.”

I stand up and walk to the closet as well. Xandra escapes into the inside of it, I follow closely. The inside wasn’t meant to hold more then one person, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Along the walls is an array of shirts, jackets, pants, hats, bracelets, necklaces, etc. in every color imaginable.

“Take your pick, it doesn’t matter what it is, other then u will need to be able to wear it for long amounts of time,” she says, picking up a hat and dusting it off, then hanging it back up.

I look around the room, spinning in place, then think of something, “Do you have a piece? How do you hide that your not a lizard?”

She thinks for moment, “Davey helps me with that too, as you know they are my familiar, and they aren’t just any normal dragon either. They become a wonderful necklace whenever I need them to. And when I wear that, I become what they would be if they were a sentient Amphibian,” she explained to me. So far she has shown me no proof of the magic she claims to have, and this seems like a simple test. Even if I was all for the cause, no reason not to speculate.

“Could u show me?”

“Of course,” Xandra said, glancing at Davey. The creature climbed to the front of her neck, then sitting still right there for a few seconds. I await the transformation. Then, they stiffen and fall loose, a small chain connecting to their mouth and tail holding them onto Xandra’s neck. Her body poofs into one of an sentient Olm, her body much longer then previously. I stare up at her in awe, it all must be true.

“Wow…” I say, stunned by the display. She smiles down at me and quickly exits the closet, since she had taken up most the room.

“I need to show u our transportation tomorrow, since it is getting late. You will be seeing the camp, and meeting the members. You may stay for a couple of days to get familiar with them,” she says, looking out the window. I understand her reasoning, my sister can watch over the farm while I’m gone, I’ll be returning there soon with suitable dragons.

I return to looking at the room and behind a puffy jacket is a bronze glimmer. I walk towards it and grab it, it’s a tail ring. A dragon spiraling around a few times. And it’s adjustable, I try it on, tightening it to my liking. I decide it would be to heavy to stay on, and I don’t really like these kinds of jewelry. Placing it back in it’s spot, I try on a few other things, including a puffy jacket(after taking my shoulder armor off), a muzzle, and a necklace with an odd diamond like pendant on it. Then another thing caught my eye, a blue bandana with a cool looking pattern on it. I tie it around my neck, I think this one will work very well.

Exiting the room I look around for Xandra, spotting her on the couch reading a book. Davey was wrapped around her wrist and she was back in her original state.

“I have chosen this bandana!” I announce, walking towards her. She looks up from her reading and smiles brightly.

“Oh wonderful sweet pea, I only ask one more question of you before you go home to rest up for tomorrow,” she says, putting her book down.

“What’s that?” I ask, holding my shoulder armor tightly.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh- oh yeah you don’t know me very well yet. I’m Niki,” I say with a smile. She smiles back at me.

“Thank you hun. One more thing though, if you have any drakes I would recommend you bring them with you, they would help with the travel aspect. Tomorrow won’t be a walk in the park,” she says, picking her book back up. I nod, looking to my left and realizing the door is right next to the couch. I mentally scorn myself for not realizing this sooner, and exit the house. I know these woods, and have seen this cottage before. It looks worn down on the outside, abandoned… but making my way home is easy. It was evening by the time I made it back.

I call my sister, “Hi Bryn, I need you to watch the farm for a few days.”

—————————

This was fun, writing wasn’t the best, I was kinda zoned out while writing it lol. My main focus was to explain stuff and set up character motivations, sorry if it’s a bit messy, and like, long dang.

[sainadazai]

When your crush is angry all the time

Ch.6

"A red haired bitch that glows"

2nd person pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°

You weren't sure how things could even possibly move so quick, but as fire burned and terrifying creatures tormented citizens, all You could do was stand. Nomus, is what endeavour called them. Some gross being that seemed to have multiple quirks, you'd never seen anything like them. 

Even with all of the times you'd been beaten and interrogated and harassed by villains, nothing like this ever happened. It could have been the fact that you spent most of your young life hiding away in a castel in the middle of nowhere, but seeing all this destruction froze you in place. 

"Kid, help get the citizens out of here! Do not engage in combat, understand? Hey! L/n!"

You broke the terrified stare that was burning into the ruined city streets to meet eyes with your boss. He seemed so calm, even though everything was going wrong. The world was quite literally burning. Those monsters were hurting people. There were screams of horror, and still his calm demeanor was all you could focus on. How was he so calm? 

"Now!"

His yell broke You from your trance and you scrambled around, eyes searching for someone, anyone to get the hell out of here. However there wasn't just one, there were hundreds. Some under building scraps, trapped behind fire burning the streets. Too many people, too much noise, it was never this loud back home. Why could you just focus?! 

One of those boys from earlier today let our scream. You only recognized it because it was the same as how he'd screamed at bakugou earlier. You whipped your head around looking for his sound, body, anything. Spinning in circles until you caught that little red shirt cowering beneath one of those things. 

"Hold on, i'm coming!" You didn't know if he could hear you, the statement was more a confirmation to yourself. You wouldn't stand there cowering. You didnt wanna be the helpless princess waiting to be saved. You were going to save others, it was like an instinct, like you had to. 

Being unsure of your abilities with vines and plants, you opted to use a power long ago mastered. Twirling your pointer finger in a circle to slowly collect wind into a tiny ciclone and build it up bigger and bigger. This action disrupted the wind in the area, some of the bystanders' hair began flowing with the force of it, getting shivers from the chill. 

Then with all the focus you could muster you let your eyes bored right into the head of that nomu aiming with your mind and following the action with your finger. Then, with a snap, the ciclone flew off towards it, lifting it into the air and growing larger the more he struggled. 

You felt the pressure of all that wind, and its body on your back. Hundreds of pounds of pressure on your spine, but adrenaline forced you forward. Sprinting to the boy in the red shirt, crouching down under all that weight to wipe away his tears. You completely ignored how underdressed you were and brought his small form into a tight embrace, whispering sweet nothings to which you didn't know you could say. 

It all felt so wrong, so opposite to what you wanted, but you couldn't help it. Grazing the lasso on your thigh an idea sprouted in your mind as to how you could get this crushing weight off of your back. You let the boy down telling him to stay behind you. 

Don't engage in combat. 

Do not engage. 

Get them out of here. 

Ignoring your mentors words, you snatched the lasso off of your thigh, doing as you were taught and lighting it ablaze, if your mother was thinking straight, she'd have it made of mineral wool- fire retardant and easily manipulated. The flames would not be actually catching on anything but the air, therefore saving her from an uncontrollably fire. 

As it lit up your hair not only changed, but shined a bright red. It was so brilliant that it lit up the area around you, the boy behind you shocked and the people in the vicinity scared. 

However, you had a hero suit on. That meant to them, that you were trustworthy. 

You swing the lasso all but twice above your head before releasing the ciclone, and the pressure on your back, and whipping it towards the monster. 

It had activated some sort of electricity quirk once free from the wind and as the lasso made contact, rather than burning and bringing the nomu to the ground, it sent a high-powered electrical current through your already spent body. 

You should have stopped there, tossed the kid out of the way and called for help. Yet, for some reason you couldn't. Being shocked only numbed the pain on your spine more, and upped your adrenaline. Bad news for mr.nomu, huh? 

"Whew, that's one way to boost your energy huh, kid?"

 You smirked back at the worried boy behind you, hoping a joke would lighting the mood now. Similar to how you would joke in class yo avoid any real emotions or connections. 

Only, now, it held the benefit of an adorable smirk appearing on his face and a little giggle exciting his mouth. 

"Watch this!" 

Despite being electrocuted your lasso was still intact, so you took to attacking it around the monster's leg and pulling back towards you. Once it was too close for your liking, you shot a roundhouse kick into the empty space in front of you. It seemed like a fruitless action, until the surrounding citizens noticed how the wind around them mirrored your actions with equal force. 

The nomu went flying out of the city, likely landing somewhere around hosu (😏Yes, hosu) and you released the pressure on your leg. 

As soon as you took the time to inhale, your back gave out, and you fell to the ground. 

However you hadn't given up, using the little burst you could make with your fingers, you shot several people away from the mess with winds. Then, after what you counted to be person number 34, you gave out and the world went black. 

The heroes in the area who were not distracted by nomus had been paying close attention to your actions, surprised they haven't seen you in the sports festival, or anywhere for that matter. 

Mr. Woods was disappointed at the initiative you took, knowing how injured you must be from being out of practice with most parts of your quirk. However when endeavour informed the other pros of some sort of incident in hosu, he was forced to leave you there. Limp body cold against the concrete. 

When doctors and healers arrived, you were one of the first in an ambulance and on the road to the hospital, and the news reports of your body being wheeled off were matched with that of your battle with the nomu. Streaming across all platforms and displaying on one particular tv screen, in the hotel room of one fire quirked boy. 

A boy who truly was noticing he had no idea what you were capable of. A boy who was angry you'd been holding it back in class. One who had been thinking of the way you spoke of fire to that little boy all day, and above all a boy who was entranced by the glow of your hair when it turned red. 

Bakugou wasn't sure how to process these overwhelming feelings towards you, the stalker girl who said dumb shit about his eyes. Still, after seeing that video, the feeling your own eyes held, staring up at that devilish creature. He could no longer say he didn't know what you meant by being obsessed with the look in his eyes. He was now too. 

A six year old girl struggled against her restraints tirelessly. She has a power that she doesn't know how to use, and yet these men want to take it from her. There is one door exit, it's blocked by tall men in black suits. The whole room echoes with screams from children. It crashes against the walls and her little ears, and she cant get it to stop. 

Why was this happening to her? Why couldn't she do anything to stop it? 

"Please, just let my brother go! Please I'll do anything. Im sorry. Im sorry. Plea-"

Her words are stopped by a suffocating hand, larger than her whole face, it reeks of bleach. Her little eyes can only release so many tears before they are running over the hands knuckles, wetting his skin with her despair. The man doesn't care, though. The men never seem to care. 

Her brother, only two years old, cries in a stranger's arms. The stranger showed her how he could completely disassemble any object, or put it back together. What a horrible powerful quirk. With something like that, she really couldn't tell why he needed hers too. Still, he did. 

So the tiny boy whined in his firm hold, terrified, but not sure why. They both just wanted their Mommy. Mommy always comes to save them, she and her friends will take them home. To the castle, with the comfy beds, the pillowy blankets that their small bodies float on like clouds. 

Not this rough metal wall, with arms chained, and bruises forming from their so-called interrogation. Why didn't they understand? 

She doesn't know how to give her quirk away. She is only six, after all. 

Mommy told her that men are greedy. Men like these have all they want and still need more. They take things, without asking. They took her and her brother without asking, so where was Mommy? To tell these men that you aren't supposed to take things, or hit people. 

Where are their mommies? Did no one tell them hitting people is bad? Especially smaller people. Is that why the men are bad? Because they didn't have a Mommy or daddy to tell them how to be good? The little girl is lost in a pit of sympathy. Sympathy that she does not owe these horrible men, yet she can't help it. 

"I don't give a shit princess, your brother can go home when you give us the quirk."

"Mommy never told me how! I'm sorry míster that you don't have a mo-mommy!" She sobre through the rough palm over her mouth. At the response he removed his grip, though. Opting to allow the girl her voice. 

"P-please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry no one told you not to be mean. It's okay though! My Mommy will come, she'll tell you, okay! Please j-just-" though her words held great meaning to those men in suits-bad men- she couldn't finish. Her sobs were too loud and violent. Her little arms shook, because though she was such a sweet little girl,she was terrified. 

Her cheeks hurt from screaming and tensing to release tears.  Her arms hurt from being suspended at her sides. Her little legs had lost all feeling, gone numb under the pressure of standing for so long. She just wanted to go home, to keep her brother safe. 

Even being only six, she felt so stupid for being so helpless. It was her job to protect their family quirk, but she wanted to give it up. More so, even though she wanted to give it away, she didn't even know how. 

A small, weak girl, helpless really. She never wanted to be helpless like that again. 

"Now!" His hand collided with her cheek. Hard, swinging, jaw snapping pressure. It rang through her ears, like her baby brothers sobs, til she shot up from her bed. 

-

-

-

Sweat covered by/ns face as she jolted awake in her bed. Around her were some unrecognizable faces, or that's what she thought at first. Except, in truth, they were simply blurred in her eyes. 

As she was taught when she was little, she began recounting things to herself that might make her come back to reality. Might help ease the fear of her dream. 

- I am not 6 years old 

-my brother is at home in the castle 

-im not in a warehouse 

-those men are in prison 

-i am alive 

As she was repeating each of those truths in her head, her eyesight began to come back so that she could recognize the faces of those around her. Three boys: todoroki, midoriya, and iida. 

Midoriya was furthest from her, as she now noticed she was on a bed. Then iida, and closest was todoroki. The familiarity of his stone face gave y/n great comfort. However, he looked troubled.

The three boys in the hospital room with her were truthfully at a loss. This girl who had been at their school for one week, had proved more honest and heroic than them. After being scolded by the chief of police, they were each confronting their own feelings about the events.

However, each came to the conclusion that y/n was the only participating hero-in-training that followed the rules and fought earnestly. Little did they know, she had been breaking rules too, except her wouldn't be hid so easily. 

What were the police meant to do, a teenage girl-princess no less- save countless lives, that heroes were neglecting, and its broadcast all over japan. Unlike in the boys' case, where the media didn't even have to know, everyone had already seen her heroism, but they had no idea where she came from. 

Some viewers pointed out her position as a princess, but no one expected to see her in a hero outfit anytime soon. They knew what happened was illegal, but what backlash would they face for arresting her. Could they even arrest her? 

Still, all y/n knew was that she was scared, and she needed to hide it as deep within her as it could reach. No one likes a cry baby, anyway. 

"Oh..uh, hey guys?"

The first to look up was the green haired, face widening in surprise and worry. 

"Y/n! Y-you're up!? Wait, don't sit up yet..um they said your bac-"

"You left damage on all your thoracic vertebrae. You could have killed yourself with that amount of pressure!" 

Todoroki interrupted. Face still void of emotion, but his voice held anger. 

Making sure to agnowledged how touched she was that he cared at all, y/n then quickly brushed it off. In the mood for jokes, not fights. She just finished fighting, why would she wanna argue some more about it? 

"Aww~todoroki, were you worried about me?"

"Yes. It was stupid of you to use your quirk like that, out of practice and such." 

"Um-"

"There's no um. he is right y/n, i didn't know your quirk could do that, but you obviously haven't been keeping it in practice during class, that was really risky..." midoriya added on in a ramble. 

Feeling a bit cornered she settled for sighing and staring up at the ceiling. 

"Can I walk?"

"No" 

"Why not?"

"Did you not here the whole vertebrae thing, i-"

"No, I did, but I don't feel any pain...is it not healed?"

"I'm not really sure, we can ask.."

So slowly but surely, the boys helped her sit up, and yes, she did feel an immense pain shoot through her. Additionally, she was compensated with shoto conspiracizing about his negativo afecta on peoples hands, getting to know these classmates better. They even let her in on why they were in the hospital to begin with. 

She would have to admit, though these boys being around made her happy, she was still thinking about bakugou. Was he in the area during the fight? Is he okay? Why do I give a shit about that mean old fact face anyway? Oh, right. His eyes. 

The rest of her time was spent ignoring the extreme trauma these events reminded her of, and fantasizing about those angry eyes. 

Bakugou pov 😡

°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°

There the bitch was, right on my hotel tv screen, fighting the same fight on replay. Those media bastards hasn't stopped talking about her all day. How even when she was barely alive on the ground, she kept saving people. 

I know it wasn't about me, hell, I wasn't even there, but it feels like a taunt. Some karma cause I called her an entitled princess, or her purposefully saying "Look what I can do." 

Well I fucking am. Looked like some sort of wind quirk, but I saw her use fire with those kids, and in class she makes that plant shit. So what the hell is she? She thinks having multiple quirks makes her better than me? Good enough she doesn't have to use them all just to beat me? Thats bullshit. 

I'm just so fucking angry at her for it, but I have to be. Or else, the next time they show her shitty face on that shitty screen, looking

...shitty, i'll start to worry. 

That maybe she has only been here for a week, but she is already gone. That the whole time at school she spent avoiding me, to make me happy. Worrying I'll never hear her say what she looks at in my eyes. 

In her eyes, that night, I saw pure rage. It almost looked as if she couldn't control it. An impending anger that loomed over her, and controlled her; made her strong. Not stronger than me, but strong. 

Still, I can't go "falling for'' every girl that I see with strength. If a dunce 's face hadn't told me that feeling I had at the festival was a crush, I could have spared myself a week worth of it, I don't even know what. 

Stupid dunce face. 

Now, though, that shitty princess, even if she is shitty. Well, she has at least my respect. 

[fellamarsh]

Both Sides of the Moon: Character Intros!

Aaaaaay it’s my mom’s favorite trans gay author, back again with a shiny new post for yall!

If you’re familiar with the premise of BSOTM, you know it’s a fantasy romance featuring comical levels of gay stupidity and gay evil - but who are these gays? Why are they so stupid? And what, exactly, is a vampire elf?

Well buckle up buttercup, cuz we’re about to find out!

Roannon Huaywa Mahankila, aka Roa: Nearing his thirties, Roa is content with his life; he loves his mother and his sister, his best friend Ha’Kahn, and the role he plays in his community - the Licanmos Clan, a society of werewolves that has called their desert home for millennia. He feels a close connection to his deity, the Moon, one of the principal Goddesses who created the cosmos and the planet that he calls home. Roa works with his hands, keeping his family’s ranch in good repair and tending to the clan’s herd with his fellow cowboys. He is also the clan Shepherd, a role that in ancient times would designate him the leader of the clan, but in Roa’s time is important only for ceremonial and religious reasons (and is only occasionally a source of embarrassment for him). A sweet man with an appreciation for nature and the beauty found within it, he is the more serious, contemplative foil to his prankster sister and best friend. Roa accepted years ago that romance would not be a part of his life, and is unprepared to find it unexpectedly knocking at his door...

Fun fact: Roa (secretly) has a wonderful singing voice.

[TRUE NAME REDACTED], aka Fae*: Fae wakes up in the Mahankila home with no memory of how he got there, and very little memory of anything else - including his own name. One thing he will never forget: he is a vampire, and so not to be trusted. One thing he cannot ignore: the profound grief lingering in his body, and the shell of stale terror surrounding it. Taking the name ‘Fae’ for himself after Roa’s mother claims his was the arrival of a talented fae foretold to her in a dream, the vampire swears that he will only stay with the kind werewolf family until he can regain his strength, and if possible, his memories... knowing that the longer he stays, the more likely he is to lose control of himself, or worse - because the mysterious and dangerous force pursuing him might show itself at any moment. But how is he supposed to leave the safety of the ranch with an undead body conditioned to survive at all costs, and a growing attachment to the werewolves, especially the gruff but shy Roa?

Fun fact: Fae tells the absolute worst jokes (but everyone is really nice to him about it.) He is also an elf, despite what this picrew might indicate!

*The reason it took me so long to post this is because, honestly, the options to make someone who is both masculine and ethnic enough to make Fae similar to how he actually looks/is described in the novel was impossible. Thankfully it was a bit easier with everyone else (especially the ladies)... but still! Come on! I do really appreciate the artists whose picrews I eventually used - they’re all beautiful, even if they don’t fit how my particular characters look, and they gave me the option to even make this post at all.

Now imagine, if you will, the above Fae but with a much more prominent nose and cheekbones; skin a warmer, darker shade of brown with the same sandy undertones; fuller eyebrows and lips; and then his ‘fantasy’ characteristics, like long pointed ears; a light, iridescent sheen to his skin under the sun; larger fangs; and a bite mark on his neck.

Secondary characters (plus a peek at our villain ;3) under the cut!

Suhi Condor Mahankila (left): Roa’s younger sister, also girlfriends with Ha’Kahn, Roa’s childhood best friend. Outgoing and friendly, Suhi quickly befriends her family’s vampire guest. Clever, observant, and with no tolerance for bullshit, she often knows more about what’s happening than she lets on, and occasionally uses this knowledge to set up elaborate pranks (often with the help of Ha’Kahn, and usually to Roa’s detriment). The reluctant heir to her mother’s powers, Suhi may work hard, but in general she’s rather laid back - ask her about her horses, though, and you’ll see how excitable she can be.

Fun fact: she has a nickname only Roa uses - HiCo.

Lucia Valaine (right): Fae’s best friend, and his vampire ‘sibling’ whose past shares many things in common with his own. She cares for Fae - and anyone else deemed important to her - very deeply, and, as such, holds them to a high standard. A fashionable dresser barely taller than five feet and sporting a soft, curvy physique, one might not know at first glance that Lucia is a fierce, highly skilled fighter, ready to fight tooth and nail for herself and her loved ones.

Fun fact: Before she was turned, Lucia was a well-known dancer.

Jimena Condor Mahankila (left): Mother to Roa and Suhi, and honorary mother to Ha’Kahn, Jimena is not only a clan Elder, but the clan Messenger - a prophetess whose sacred role is to receive and pass on wisdom sent directly from the Goddess, the Moon herself. She predicted Fae’s arrival, but claims to know nothing more about the purpose behind his presence on the ranch. Warm, intelligent, and firm, Jimena uses her magical prowess and wisdom to heal and guide those around her, and to uphold the teachings and traditions of her clan.

Fun fact: Jimena has a close (read: gay) relationship with Ha’Kahn’s mentor, Tze.

Ha’Kahn Allca Callañaupa: Roa’s childhood best friend and Suhi’s girlfriend. Ha’Kahn is a non-binary ADHD-having short king; they are high energy, fiercely loyal, easily distracted, and much-loved by the rest of the clan despite (or because of) their unrelenting clownishness. Brave to the point of stupidity, Ha’Kahn is infinitely more emotionally mature than they first appear, and is the first person Roa turns to when he needs advice and support. They also play an important role in the clan - Ha’Kahn is clan Spire, endowed with incredible strength and the ability to transform into a wolf at will, with a sworn duty to protect the clan and advocate for the alienated. Just don’t remind them that they’re still an apprentice, unless you want to be subject to some highly overdramatic pouting.

Fun fact: Ha’Kahn’s greatest wish is to jump off of a waterfall and live to tell the tale; Roa and their two dads have successfully talked them out of this on several separate occasions.

Alaric: An Evil Gay Eccentric whose hobbies include dark magic and murder. B loooves to hate this motherfucker - but if you want to find out why, you’ll have to read the book ;)

Fun fact: He owns at least two full size pianos.