#i am a competent adult who is good at his job and has many good qualities and frankly he is getting hotter and more confident also as well.

[bugmistake]

ive gotta. get it together a little bit i think. holy shit i really did not mean for the tags to get THAT long

[yuri-is-online]

I'm asking this question because I find it an interesting topic. It relates to the criticism the Tokyo Debunker MC receives.

It's not just TD's MC—it's a common theme in otome and gacha games. Genderless MCs in games like *Obey Me!* and *Twisted Wonderland* face less criticism than female MCs. Even though the genderless MCs get some hate, it’s nowhere near the backlash female MCs receive. For instance, *Twisted Wonderland* had debates about a female MC being unsuitable for an all-boys school, despite the presence of monsters and robots. This debate ended with a female MC in the *Savanaclaw* manga.

Another example is *Tears of Themis*, where the female MC is well-received in my opinion due to her having a character. I am very happy that she isn’t a self insert and people seem to agree.

In contrast, female self-insert MCs like TD's MC and *Love and Deep Space*'s MC get a lot of hate for what seems like trivial reasons. TD's MC is often criticized for being ordinary, while LADS's MC, who is strong and brave, also faces backlash, with some claiming she's rude despite evidence to the contrary.

In conclusion.

woman mc in this day of age can’t have flaws now….wait no they can’t be prefect either! As then they are Mary sue! What do you mean that LI are grey sue as well? No that not true Leo having a backstory would justify his actions don’t you get it? What do you mean we should hold the male characters as same standard? Jin treating mc as a servant is her fault as she didn’t say no…..😐 

... so I have two lines of thought about this particular topic, it is something I have thought about for a while because I am working on my own game/games and pay a lot of attention to what people think.

It isn't personality people like it is competence

The love and deepspace MC and Rosa from tears of themis actually have very similar personalities. They are bad at/hate studying. They really love food. They both are sort of dorks and known for being kind. What people like about them isn't any of those things, what they like is that both of them are adult women who you can believe live on their own. They actually have skills related to their jobs, you can believe Rosa is a lawyer and that MC is a hunter, the love interests aren't the only competent people in the narrative. I think this can sort of relate to the target audience for both of these games being working women, but that's for a different post. Right now I really want to focus on that concept of competence: the two other otomes I really love and want to bring up are Amnesia: Memories and Hakuoki. The Amnesia MC makes a lot of really stupid decisions, but as the game title gives away she has amnesia. There is an underlying explanation for why she's a bit dim so I don't see too many complaints about her personality (outside of Toma's route but that is a different story) because you don't exactly expect her to be competent. The same goes for Hakuoki's MC whose name escapes me at the moment, she is the daughter of a doctor so she is never made out to be incompetent in medical matters, but she isn't the best fighter. And she doesn't need to be that's the male love interest's role in this particular story.

The problem with MCs like our dear Luna? I believe you said her default name is, in Tokyo Debunker is that we don't exactly have anything she is stated to be good at beyond boosting Stigmas. The various ikmen games get around this by giving their MCs a job, but we don't have that for Luna so we don't have anything to show some backbone or character so people read her as being a bit of a doormat. Like I have said numerous times before, I don't mind this and think that so long as they keep allowing us to see her thoughts this the writing will be good. A relatively easy fix to this could have been to make her someone who really loves music and constantly talks about it, she was going to a concert at the start of the game so that little bit of character would go a long way for her to be more of a human for people to project themselves onto. Generally speaking, when writing an MC, it is perfectly acceptable to give them certain personality traits and a history. But if you do that you need to make sure the narrative respects that interest and does not use it as an excuse to make the male lead look cooler.

Gender Neutral MCs

*sigh* so you bring up Twisted Wonderland and I uh... have some experience with that fandom! And I have observed the gender wars over Yuu with a weary heart. I genuinely could not care any less about how people identify or the type of o.c.s they make, but some people really really care and if I am honest I find that a bit disturbing. It honestly makes me sad to see fanfic, which used to be a really accepting space, fight over writing... well anything really. m/m blogs screaming about how they don't want fem aligned reading their things, f/f blogs screaming about men, the f/m fic writers feeling the need to defend themselves writing for a female reader- doesn't that exhaust you? Why do you care so much? I do not have the energy to care about people writing fanfic I am not interested in reading, is this because I am anemic or have I managed to be normal about one singular thing?

My personal theory is that the commodification of fanfic and fandom has made people think there is something fundamentally wrong with properties that are marketed towards people who are not them. The reaction to Love and Deepspace not having a male MC option sort of cemented that for me, there is nothing wrong with wanting a game where you can be a man or non-binary and date anime boys. There is also nothing wrong with writing m/m fanfic for a property like lds, or wishing you could play as a man in it. I think there is a genuine market gap in good games for people who aren't fem aligned, but you do not get good games by harassing people or implying they suck for wanting games where you can play as a woman. You get that by financially supporting projects aimed at you! There is a blog I follow on here called @amaregamesdb. They post a bulletin of projects, both vn and if, with an emphasis on making people aware of projects that aren't simply otome (ie male love interests with a female protagonist.) I think the people who run it are also the people who coined the term "amare game" to use for games where the MC isn't necessarily female. They also ran a blog to help people like me learn how to code if/vns so I am very grateful for them, so please do give them your support.

I write for a gender neutral reader because I wanted to write interactive fiction and felt like I needed to practice doing so. I have continued to do because honestly? I really enjoy it. I love seeing how many different people identify with my writing and are moved by it. There are some projects I want to do in the future (original works, not fanfic) that I probably will lock the MC to female for, but I want to continue providing gn fic for people for as long as I write. And original projects too! I have two in particular I am working on behind the scenes. The solution to the problems like "what gender is yuu really," if you will permit me to preach for a second, is to not care. Yana said Yuu was meant to be you, and dear reader I don't actually know who you are! So you can be whoever it is you wish to be in your heart and I will make room for you to sit next to me. I'll even make tea (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[farfromstrange]

Hellooo. it's been a while since you posted your stories but im willing to wait! just hope you're doing fine but here's my request, when the reader is Matt's sister and they have an argument one night and she suddenly leaves Matt's apartment, After that, she is taken by human traffickers and gets hurt or something like that (angst pls hehehehe) thank you so much love u. and I hope you're doing well!

Thank you for your request and your kind words, Lovely! This took a while for me to even get to and I am so incredibly sorry for that. This is my first time writing Matt with a Reader that he is not in a romantic relationship with, but I love a good challenge. I hope I got it right the way you imagined it and that I did your idea justice. I'm doing so much better, by the way. I hope you're doing okay and I love you too :)

Brother | Matt Murdock x Sister!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Sister!Reader

Summary: After a fight with your overprotective brother, you find yourself taken by human traffickers and it is on Matt to save you before something worse can happen to you.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of human trafficking, graphic descriptions of blood, canon typical violence, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: I wasn't sure if this was supposed to be angst with hurt/comfort or without, so I just did it with comfort because I felt like it fit with the direction this story was taking. I hope you like it, nonnie, and I hope the rest of you enjoys it as well. I only have little sisters so I don't really know what it's like to have a brother, but this is fiction and I see Matt as a very protective person, so... enjoy!

Having siblings isn’t easy.

Having an older brother who takes his overprotectiveness as seriously as having a full-time job even less so. It’s not because you had to compete for your parents’ attention as children - Your father passed and you never knew your mother. You grew up in a catholic orphanage and while for some siblings, that might have been the death sentence to their relationship, you and your brother never lost sight of each other. You two are the only family you have left and after suffering the loss of your father, you needed to catch each other. You both felt so alone, your brother more so than you; he’s always been different, which is something that he’s not at fault for, and you’ve been his rock, always being there for him because not many people were able to understand what he went through as a child. It’s a lack of understanding that’s dragged on into his adult years, and while he often told you before that he envies how perceptively “normal” you are, without you, he would have no one. It’s why he is so protective of you, and you get it, you do, but it’s hard and sometimes his behavior can get a bit too overbearing even for your liking - and you can take a lot.

Matt Murdock carries the burden of a dark past and a dark present, a constant reminder of his past that has changed his life forever. At eight years old, he got into an accident that took his eyesight and heightened his other senses to the point it became almost unbearable. And he had never told anyone but you when you were old enough to understand.

You’ve been carrying his secret for as long as you can remember, so when he came to your apartment one night, bloody and bruised and dressed in a black get-up that might as well have been pajamas at that point, you were pissed, of course, but you weren’t surprised. It’s just another secret you have been carrying for him. and perhaps it’s also been for your sake because having to explain to people why your blind brother does rooftop parkour in the middle of the night dressed in a clad black shirt and some jeans is not a discussion you want to have. 

That’s why you’ve never considered yourself anything but normal. You are the normal Matt needs, the normal he has needed especially as a young boy, and in return, he’s made sure to protect you from harm every day ever since you were born. It has nothing to do with heightened senses or disability; he loves unconditionally, and he’s so afraid of losing the last family he has left, he does everything in his power to make sure it doesn’t happen.

At first, you didn’t mind, and you guess you still don’t, but it’s only natural to feel like you’re being controlled at times with a brother who perceives everything, hears and smells everything, and senses danger in every corner of life, even if it’s not real. That’s what gets you, that’s what annoys you and that’s essentially what led you into his apartment that night, frustrated beyond compare. You know he’s your brother and you should be thankful for his support, but some lines should not be crossed, not even by family - and he has really knocked it out of the park this time. 

“I was trying to protect you,” Matt says and you’ve heard the same excuse so many times before, it makes your blood boil. 

“Protect me?” you snap. “By showing up to my date’s workplace in the middle of the night in your silly little Devil suit? Is that what you think protecting someone means? Stalking an innocent guy your sister has been on two dates with and hasn’t even said anything about taking things further than that and putting the fear of God in him?” Your voice is loud and echoes through the apartment. He flinches, the volume hurting his sensitive ears, but you couldn’t care less. 

It’s not the first time he has successfully scared a possible suitor away by being his intimidating himself, but he has never done it in his suit before, let alone threatened a man who has done nothing to you with violence. You were merely experimenting with him, going on a few dates after meeting him online, and he had been nothing but nice to you from the moment you first laid eyes on him in person. Last night though, you received a text from him, telling you that he can’t do this anymore and that you’re over, and it didn’t take you all too long to figure out why he doesn’t want to meet with you anymore. He’s scared, rightfully so, and he hasn’t even done anything to prompt any kind of punishment from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. But the vigilante is your brother and to him, anyone who even dares to touch you is the enemy in person. 

You accept his lifestyle, you care and you want him to be safe. You’ve never tried to change or stop him the way other people have, but he has also never done anything this extreme before. You know your anger is justified, but the look in his eyes, the stern expression, and the way he places his hands on his hips as if you’re a condescending child make you feel small for no reason; he is the one who should be ashamed, and you refuse to stay down this time. You’re a grown woman and you can take care of yourself. 

Matt raises his eyebrows slightly. “He sounded like bad news,” he says. To him, that is an explanation that suffices. To you, it’s the opposite. 

“And how would you know that?” 

“The way you talked about him… I did some research and I got a bad feeling, so I paid him a visit. I just wanted to make sure you were in the right hands, and it didn’t feel like you were.”

You let out a low groan, “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!” 

“Language,” he retorts. 

“No, you listen to me, Matthew! I know you care about me, but that doesn’t mean you get to control every aspect of my life as you please,” you say, and your words hit hard. “I’m your sister, not your property, and I deserve privacy. I deserve to make my own mistakes and date people from the internet however the fuck I please, so no! I’m not caving. You were wrong with what you did and you ruined something that could have been possibly beautiful, and I hate you!” 

The last part of your speech is harsh and part of you wants to take it back as soon as you’ve said it, but your vision is blurry red with anger, and taking it back is not something you do, you never have. 

Matt swallows and he calls your name softly. 

“Dad would turn in his grave if he saw what you’ve become.” 

“Hey,” he calls your name again, but the steam coming out of your eyes turns you deaf to his pleas.

You shake your head and grab your back. The adult conversation you planned to have with him went straight out of the window the second you saw the determination in his unfocused eyes, and he’s taken one step too many. 

With a loud huff and a promise to kick his ass if he even thinks about contacting you anytime soon, you storm out of his apartment, the door falling shut behind you. 

Matt is left behind with an aching hole in his chest. He’s angry, he can’t deny that; your words have cut a little too close to him. You know what buttons to push to elicit a reaction, but this was new, even for you. 

You sounded so happy when you told him about this guy you had met online. You went on a few dates and the smile in your voice had been evident as you talked to him on the phone. He told himself he wouldn’t make any hasty decisions, but the more you talked, the more he wondered who this guy was, so he did his research and visited him. He was just trying to be the best brother he could be, and the guy you were talking to seemed a little too perfect. People aren’t perfect. But perhaps he misjudged him. 

Ever since he could remember, his sister’s safety has been Matt’s number one priority. Losing his father so soon and being left with his little sister at Saint Agnes, blind and overwhelmed, had been the worst part of his life, but he made it through. He pushed through the pain because of you. Without you, he wouldn’t have survived. He owed you so much and yet he has failed time and time again to properly show you how grateful he is. Instead, he makes the same mistake over and over again, and now it feels as if he has truly lost you. 

He wanted to keep you safe, but instead, he pushed you away. He hurt you. He broke your heart in a way not even a guy from the internet could break your heart, and it hurts him to even recall the sound of your voice or the words you threw at his face. You had every right to do it, but it still hurts him just the same because you were right - if Jack were here right now, he would be the last person on Matt’s side. 

Having siblings is hard, but being a big brother with trust issues who tends to go overboard to take care of his sister who is more than capable of doing it on her own is even harder. And there is no one to blame but himself. 

He calls out your name to his phone several times that night. He listens for you in the bustling core of the city. He searches Hell’s Kitchen from his apartment for your scent and anything familiar, but he receives no answer. You’re gone. You left him. The one thing he once asked you to never do, you’ve done and the realization becomes frighteningly clear; he has probably lost you over something as small as your dating life, and it’s the most stupid thing he has ever done. 

You leave his apartment with determined steps, deep down knowing you will come back as soon as you’ve both calmed down. You avoid the subway or calling an Uber, reveling in the feeling of the cool night air on your skin. When you cross a particularly dark corner into an alley to take a shortcut, you can hear Matt’s voice in your head telling you to turn around and take a familiar route, but you’re angry and you want to go home. You need to get out of your head, so you take the road less traveled - In hindsight, you should have listened to Matt’s voice in your head because even though he is infuriating, he is often right, even if he’s just taking the form of your common sense. 

The way out of the alley is suddenly blocked by two large men, their shoulders broader than two of your heads next to each other. You grab your bag, reaching for the maze Matt always insists you carry with you. You’re an idiot, you realize; you switched your bag that morning, forgetting to transfer the small bottle from your old to the new one, and your bag is empty when you reach into it. 

You try to remember the self-defense techniques from your training at Fogwell’s, but soon enough, there’s an entire crowd of men in that dark alley and you swallow. You should have listened to your brother. 

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath. 

There is no way you are going to make it out of this one. 

By lunch the next day, Matt still hasn’t heard from you. He’s pacing his office, he fans out his hearing, he tries to reach you through email, even, but there is no sign of life from your end. The number of times he has texted and demanded that you get back to him, and just let him know you’re okay, is probably in the hundreds. By the time the clock strikes twelve, he grabs his coat and storms out. 

Foggy shouts after him, but he doesn’t turn around. He takes the subway to your apartment and knocks. No answer. He climbs over the fire escape onto the roof and tries to get into your apartment that way. You lack security, he knows that. When he reaches your apartment, the place is silent. Except for the steady dripping of the broken faucet, there is nothing that would suggest someone is even living there. You didn’t pack any clothes, your suitcase is still in your closet and the fish you insist on keeping haven’t been fed in a whole day. Considering you came to him straight from work the other night, he makes the connection between you leaving his apartment and never even reaching yours in the first place, and that’s when the panic officially sets in. 

With one swift motion of his hand, he wipes your dining table clean. The mail you’ve kept on it falls to the floor and he lets out a frustrated shout. Everything smells like you, but your heartbeat is missing. You’re gone, but you didn’t leave - you’re gone and you haven’t come home, your friends don’t know where you are, and when he calls into your work, they say you haven’t come in all day; you’re gone and it’s then that he knows something is terribly wrong and you are very likely in danger. A danger he has put you in by being the oaf of a brother you often call him. You’re in danger because he chose to interfere with your life once again, acting as if you’re a teenager and not a grown woman, and that made you so angry, you felt the need to leave the safety of his home, and now you’re gone because of that, because of him. He tears at his hair. Damn it, he thinks, and he instantly starts to hate himself again. But is it really again if he’s never stopped hating himself?

He answers Foggy’s call with his chest still heaving and he tells him what happened in one short sentence, and except for your name and that you’ve possibly been kidnapped because of his enemies, there’s not much else he needs to give his friend the day off. He tells him to find you and call as soon as he’s found you and knows you’re okay. Because Foggy cares. Foggy is your friend, too. But Foggy isn’t Matt, and he isn’t made for the fight his friend is about to embark on as soon as the sun starts to set. 

Matt sees red. He’s not even sure where to start, he only knows he needs to find you. He needs to make up for what he did because he refuses to lose you. A fight can’t be the last conversation he has ever had with you, and he definitely couldn’t live with himself if the life he leads on the side somehow gets his sister hurt or worse, killed even. He loves you more than life itself and he owes it to you and his father to make sure you make it back safely to him. That’s what he promises all those years ago, and this is anything but your fault. 

Twenty-four hours have never felt longer. You wake up with the cold metal of a pair of handcuffs digging into the sensitive skin of your wrists. The pain that spreads through your skull is sharp and you can feel the heat of blood dripping down your scalp. 

“What the-” you groan when you lift your head. 

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the stench of blood and sweat. When you open your eyes, your vision is blurry. For a second, you wonder where you are, then the realization sinks in; the men in the alley, their disgusting grins, and then the blow to the back of your head that has left you incapacitated for God knows how long. 

You struggle against the chains that keep you bound, but the metal is strong. Bruises adorn your body. Your clothes are torn in various places, but you’re still dressed and it seems like no one has touched you, which settles your nerves a bit, but the fear still bubbles up in you and fills the air with the scent of your sweat. 

As minutes turn into agonizing hours, your bones start to ache from the position, and you're tired, but sleep is the last thing on your dizzy mind. You have lost all track of space and time, no one has come to see you, you haven't received any water or food and all of your screams for help have met deaf ears or no ears at all. Your voice is sore at this point, and you give up on yelling because it is of no use, and Matt has taught you better. 

Your mind races with thoughts of finding an escape, but the truth is, you are not your brother and he once told you never to do anything stupid. You're not as trained as him, you're not a vigilante and you shouldn't even be in this position, but you are, and it sucks. You never thought it possible that you would truly end up in front of the gun at some point, even though Matt has warned you many times before and it's the part of his superhero life that has him worry even more than a normal brother. Perhaps that is why he overreacted, and perhaps you should have thought about it twice before shouting at him and being mean to him, knowing your words will stay with him for a long time; he likes to blame himself and you gave him material for days. Knowing you might die makes you regret your words and the tone of your voice because damn it, you love your brother and you can't bear to leave him alone, let alone leave him with the guilt of your possible death at the hands of people you don't even know or understand why they have taken you in the first place. 

The reality of the situation weighs heavily on you. Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Though you bite your cheek, shake your head, and try once again to break free of your chains. If you want to get out alive, crying isn't getting you anywhere, and you wouldn't be a Murdock if you weren't ready to fight for your freedom. You are a tough son of a bitch, but a lot of people underestimate that. If you can be tough now, you're not sure, but you have to try. 

Just when you think you can't bear it any longer, the creaky door to your holding place creaks open, revealing the silhouette of a man. It's the same man from the shadow in the abandoned alley Fear clenches at your heart, fear you try your best to swallow as he approaches you with his steel black boots, his footsteps echoing ominously in the room. The man kneels to your height, meeting your sour gaze that you throw him, and his eyes bore into yours, both of them filled with pure malice and mocking curiosity.

“Such a pretty thing,” he coos. 

God, you want to bite him, but not in a friendly way. 

He smiles, his teeth yellow in the dim lighting of the room - you now suspect it’s an abandoned warehouse at the docks, hearing the soft waves of the Hudson outside through the door he just came in through. Men, a young woman, and a warehouse at the docks can only mean one thing, and it makes you shiver. 

“You know how much money I would get for a pretty face and body like yours?” he asks, and his laugh at your shocked expression sends even more shivers down your spine. He grabs your chin and you hiss like a snake, trying to bite his finger off, but he is strong and he’s more amused than scared. “Feisty, I like it. Tell me, has Daredevil taught you that?”

The name catches the breath in your throat. 

“You’re mixed up with him, aren’t you? That’s why he cares so much?”

How he knows, you’re not sure. Your smart remark gets lost in translation when he grips your face tighter and seethes, “Answer me!”

You hate this man with a passion. 

“Fuck you!” you spit back. 

His palm lands flat across your cheeks and you flinch. “Let’s try this again. I know you know Daredevil. Now, the how is not important here,” he says. “What's important is that you tell me the truth or this thing gets real ugly real fast and you're gonna be on a ship to Russia in the next thirty minutes. I suggest you don't waste my time. Tell me, sweetie, how well do you know him?"

You stay silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. You can't sell out your brother, even if it would save your life and a journey to Russia to be sold into sex slavery, most likely. Telling them about Matt would blow your cover, too, and that would cause even more problems. Besides, you hate this man and you are not going to play his games, no matter how scared you are. Still, his words hit a nerve. A big one. 

"I don't know him," you say. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." You’re surprised your voice sounds as steady as it does, but you’re glad because it shows you’re not scared, making you a worthy opponent and stalling, which is exactly what you need. 

You have never been as religious as Matt, but this time, you pray to the God you were taught to believe in that he will let the devil out to find you, and that soon. 

The man’s breath reeks of cigarettes and whiskey when he leans down. "Oh, I think you will," he slaps you again, "You see, we have ways of making people talk. And trust me, sweetheart, you won't enjoy it."

The palm of his hand soon turns into his fist. You whimper but stay quiet. Your defiance earns you a kick with his steel boot right to your ribs, and you momentarily lose focus and ear, and you can feel consciousness slipping from you as something seems to burst inside of you. Blood trickles from your split lip as your vision turns into a stormy ocean and a dull throbbing echoes through your head. With each question that goes unanswered, another body part becomes the target of his torment. Your bones ache, your throat hurts and the blood covers half of your face now. He's broken your nose in several places, that much you know, and you're sure he's managed to break your little finger. Your ribs are bruised if not fractured, too, and something inside of you is screaming as it burns through your organs. You're sure there is blood in your stomach. Even through all of it though, you stay quiet. You don't answer, you simply endure. 

“Is that really how much you care about him?” the man pants, his fist raining down on you once more. “That you’d die for him?” 

Your eye is swollen and tears gather in both of them as you look up at him. You hold his gaze, the blood from your mouth landing in a pool of spit at his feet. 

“I’m far from dead,” you croak out.

His fist lands on your temple this time. The liquid multiplies. Hot blood trickles down your face and your neck, painting a gruesome picture on the floor below you. You can barely see with the broken flesh of your face, barely move with your broken bones, and your muscles ache from trying not to fall over. You can’t pass out. 

You remember the one time as a child when you accidentally knocked your head after falling off of your bike and Matt was there, telling you to focus on your surroundings so you won’t lose consciousness. You do so. You refuse to let the man win, you refuse to let them take you. You need to win. 

With each hit, it gets harder to stay awake. You force yourself to count the dirt on the walls, but as your eyes start swelling shut completely, the first tears start to fall. You are so tired, you can see the light behind your eyelids. You can see your dad and the faint silhouette of your grandma. You’ve missed them. They tell you to fight, but at the same time, their arms are wide open and telling you it’s okay, you won’t be alone. You can’t fight forever, and in some wars, you just can’t win. At least if you die before they can ship you off, you won’t end up in Russia and they will never find Matt. 

Just as despair is starting to consume you completely and you are more than ready to give up, there is a clanging sound at the other end of the room, metal on metal. Something hard hits the floor, followed by a series of grunts that travel from the docks into the warehouse. The man's grip on you vanishes, replaced by the sound of more bodies hitting the floor, hard. You blink through the haze, suddenly wide awake again, your eyes widening as you recognize the shadow in the distance. Your fear of death subsides, replaced by the dull feeling of relief as salvation stands before you. 

“Oh, thank God,” you say. 

He rushes to your side, calling your name in a hushed yet hurried tone. He's worried sick, you can tell. He can smell the blood and hear your erratic heartbeat. Your breathing is labored as the broken rib digs into your flesh, and you're sure your lung is about to collapse with all the fluid inside, but you don't care. He's here. He's found you. 

"Matt?" you ask as if you can't believe it when he touches you. The lower part of his face turns into a smile, but something wet trickles down the inside of his mask and onto his lip. A tear. His tongue darts out and he licks it away, trying to hide the fact that he is both dying inside and relieved to have found you. 

His touch is gentle as he carefully frees you from the handcuffs with a simple tug at the metal. He catches you when you lose balance, wrapping his arms around you. “I’ve got you,” he says, his voice almost as hoarse and broken as yours. 

He has found you, but the state you’re in breaks his heart. 

“You’re safe now. I’m here.”

Feeling his arms around you instead of the hands that were set out to hurt you before breaks the dam you've been holding up all this time. The tears start streaming down your battered face as you cling to him. Your strength descends into vulnerability. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” you sob into his shoulder. “I was so scared. They wanted to get to you and I refused to tell them, but I was so close… Oh, God, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He holds you even tighter, feeling your skin for the injuries that lie beneath. “Shh, don’t apologize,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This is my fault, not yours.”

You shudder. 

Matt holds you tighter, his voice choked with his own tears. "I'm so sorry. I should have protected you better. I shouldn't have invaded your privacy and I shouldn't have let you leave. If I hadn't... You mean everything to me. I'm so sorry."

“No,” you whimper, “don’t say that. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. You’re hurt. Jesus-” He can feel your broken ribs, the shifting of your nose, and smell the copper of your blood. 

“Language.”

For a moment, he chokes on his tears and chuckles before holding you close again. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me, Matty.”

“Never.” He moves so he can hold your face in his hands, pressing your forehead together. “You’re my sister,” he says, “and I’m always going to protect you with my life. I promise you, I won’t ever let this happen to you again.”

You nod weakly. 

“Over my dead body,” he says. 

“Please don’t say that,” another fresh wave of tears escaped your eyes. 

He wipes your bloody cheeks. “I’m sorry. For everything.” 

You shake your head as you respond, “It’s okay.”

“It’s only okay when you’re okay, and you’re not.”

You feel so fragile in his arms, he cradles you like broken glass to his chest. "We're getting you out of here," Matt says softly,  "I won't let them hurt you anymore. Just hold on a little longer. We'll get you out and then I'll get you to the hospital, I promise."

You nod weakly. He carefully lifts you into his arms, mindful of your injuries, and begins to navigate through the warehouse, relying on his instincts entirely.

A few hours later, you find yourself draped in an uncomfortable hospital gown and forced to stay the night. Matt is often reckless with his own injuries, but for you, he would even threaten the safety of his identity. He got Claire to catch you in front of Metro General, and she was more than nice to you. Now though, you're alone in the poorly decorated hospital room, and the loneliness creeps up your spine like a parasite. You curl into a ball and stare at the door, waiting until the clock strikes a full hour for the person you need the most to strut through the door. 

He is right on time. Matt made a promise and he's made sure to keep it. There he stands in clothes that nowhere near resemble the suit he left at home. It's just him in his red glasses, but the poor yellow lighting casts a sad glow onto his face. 

His steps are heavy, burdened by the weight of his perceived failures. As he enters the room, he removes his glasses, and the gates open wide. You extend a trembling hand toward him. "Matthew," you say softly, "Come here." His sobs are silent, but they shatter your already bruised heart. He takes your hand and you pull him close and to your side. "I know you think you're a bad person, but that's not true," you tell him, trying your best to keep your tears at bay, but seeing him so broken makes it an impossible task. "You're my brother, and I love you more than anything."

The pain in your voice stirs something within him.

"This is not your fault, okay? Listen to me! When I said Dad would turn in his grave," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper and it cracks straight through when he whimpers behind his closed lips, "I didn't mean it. He would be so proud of you," you say. "I get it now, why you did what you did. I'm so sorry... you're not a bad person, you're my hero."

Tears still streaming down his face, Matt climbs into the hospital bed beside you. Back at the orphanage, he would do it every time you were sick. He would find his way into your room and climb into your bed, holding you close, sometimes even receiving the same stories your father would tell; they weren't all that creative, but they were the memories of your childhood that have stuck with you. Matt cradles you gently, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace, and you do the same. Your tears mingle with his as you hold each other, crying silently in each other's arms, both because guilt is a treacherously heavy feeling and because you have never been more relieved to find yourself in a hospital bed than you are at that moment. It means you're safe, and safe is what you want to be. 

You sniffle eventually and squeeze his hand. "I love you," you say, and then add, a bit more sheepishly, "Bro." 

Matt finds a low laugh deep in his chest and lets it out. "I love you too, sis," he says, and he mimics the tone of your voice.

As your tears begin to subside, you find solace in the warmth of Matt's embrace. The hospital room, with its sterile walls and fluorescent lighting, fades into the background as you focus on your brother's heartbeat beneath your ear.

Time stands still, and the weight of the world seems to lift ever so slightly. Just for a moment, but a moment is enough for you to finally breathe. You take a second and just breathe, just for a moment. You need it. 

Eventually, you both find the strength to pull away slightly, though your hands remain intertwined. Matt makes sure you are comfortable, tucks you in, and kisses your forehead. It's your childhood all over again, but it's the kind of nostalgia you need to stay alive, stay sane, and push through the hell you've endured. Matt's red-rimmed eyes meet yours. "We're going to get through this," he says,  "Together." It's the same thing he has said many times before, and somehow he has always managed to be right, so you don't doubt for a second that you can believe him. 

You nod. "Together," you agree. 

The hospital room may be devoid of comfort and familiarity, but it's better than the warehouse Matt rescued you from. Lying side by side, you find solace in the presence of your brother, your hero. He has always been your hero, sometimes you simply forget. 

With a final squeeze of your hand, Matt whispers, "Rest now. You have a lot of healing to do."

But it's not just you, it is both of you. Together, as you said. The sounds of the hospital start fading into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breathing and you slowly but finally find yourself drifting into the abyss of sleep.

[lcafman]

respond to the following prompts out of character, then tag others you'd like to get to know a little bit better.

roleplayer name : ellie !

pronouns : she / her !

muse name(s) : nod , unfortunately lol . the name means “ to wander “ which i think is pretty fitting for him . in my modern verse i’ve made his name “ nicholas “ because who in this day and age would name their child a verb

preferred communication : DMs ! this is a good time for me to mention this - please don’t take it personally if i take a few days to respond , even if i’m online ! i PROMISE it’s nothing personal , i just want to ensure i’m in the right headspace to reply to things . i do this to everyone so it has nothing to do with you . even my closest friends have to suffer through my horrendous texting lol ( rae you have the patience of a saint )

experience : i started on ‘ chickensmoothie ‘ ( no i’m not kidding ) , but eventually moved to twitter for a few years before settling down in tumblr !

preferred roleplay type : it genuinely depends ! i love banter , i love multi-para style — whatever works ! at the end of the day my favorite type of roleplay is when you’ve brain rotted over your characters together so much that you get Genuinely excited to see the other person reply lol

pet peeves / dealbreakers : force shipping / speed shipping is Not the vibe . i adore romance and am nearly always down to do so between two consenting adults , but if we’ve had zero ooc communication , to jump straight into “ we’re in a committed relationship “ is a little too fast for me .

i also really dislike character dynamics where one muse is essentially the other muses therapist . always comforting them without ANY type of reciprocation or bonding outside of that — it’s exhausting . i’ve been put in that position way too many times in real life i can’t have it happen in fictional writing too lol

and finally , ship jealousy . it’s mad weird . we’re all adults and these are fictional characters . if you’re getting jealous over a multiship muse , please take a break it’s not that serious . i’ve been guilty of this myself in the past , and i have to force myself to take a small break to reconnect with the outside world . i’m not here to compete when we could all just hold hands and gush about our ships together .

best time to write : definitely in the evening / night ( cst ) ! that’s when i have the most muse , and i’ll usually try to check the dash around this time as well .

are you like your muse ? : NO lmao . i was talking with jaye the other night about how i am nothing like nod . aside from both of us being relatively outgoing and maybe adrenaline junkies / enjoying jobs with high stakes , we’re pretty much polar opposites . he’s type b , i’m type a , he’s a hopeless romantic , i’m not , he’s fuckin stupid , i am about 80% sure i’m not — we’re completely different . it’s what makes him so fun to write , though . i get to get into the mind of someone who’s pretty much nothing like me — it’s so fun to see the world through his eyes .

tagged by ; @boombambaby ( thank you !! ;3; guys follow her kuzco it is SPOT ON ) tagging ; @cxnscience @bypoisedapples @underworldsarcade @returnedimage @sunoflegend @nosenipped @drckmgck @dreamsofalife @hxzelwallflower @froznspirit @mitchftw @fairestmusesofthemall @sunsfates @wispfated @oakthcrn

[the-mess-of-a-dreamer]

Big Reputation...

In my life my heart has been broken many times. Some by boys, mainly by life. I know what it is like to feel grief and dejection and never have wanted to be the source of that for anyone. My job title currently is banker but in reality I am a professional in people pleasing. For as long as I can remember I have always cared deeply what people thought of me and always wanted to appear competent and kind. I pushed myself to obnoxious lengths to ensure that I met all the invisible marks that I had set for myself that I thought would win me the title of "good" and therefore would earn me the affection of those around me. I was the ultimate "pick me" girl. Except, people rarely did or at least not those who had good intentions.

I have been stepped on so much emotionally that it has taken me years to accept interactions for the grooming and manipulation that it was. To know where my wants begins and others wants for me ended. However, I am pretty proud of the way that I fought physically. I haven't always protected my heart the way I would have hoped but the one thing I did a decent job of protecting was my body. I have never been the girl that would reach for someone's hands or naturally melt into someone for an embrace. For every time a boy leaned in I leaned out. I was very aware of the cruelty of men and what they could do and I wasn't about to be bait. For a long time I used to think something was inherently wrong with me. Why did other girls attract cute highschool boys and instead I always had the grown gross men or the guys that are in between the stints in Jail. No, I was okay with not being touched.

Fall semester of my freshman year of college was supposed to be a new beginning for me. A chance to finally be a kid and have fun. I went to a school that people affectionately call "the home we love so well." And I probably would have cherished my time there if it hadn't been for meeting a boy on my 2nd day of school at a block party in front of the president's house. He was my best friend until the day he wasn't. Until I became enemy number one for the simple word of no. The thing about going to a school where nobody knows you is that they have no history to compare notes with when being told about the newest slut of the school. And as the story goes I became the least experienced slut in school history. It would have been downright hilarious to hear what my classmates were saying of me if it wasn't for the fact that they believed it. Mix this new reputation in with my fear of lacking in value and thus my workaholism personality trait was born.

By my sophomore year I was well into my personal plan to prove everyone wrong about me by being the best at...well everything. I was in 9 honor societies, was an ambassador for the school, a student marshall, was a chairman for my sorority, was in 4 clubs, had 4 (at times 5) part time jobs, maintained a 4.0, was on the church young adult council, lead small groups and sunday school all while attempting to have a social life. I did all of this just to prove my worth. That they were wrong about me. That I truly was in control and their comments and names did not in fact break my bones and nothing could ever hurt me. But in reality I was desperate for someone to just look at me and tell me that they knew me. That what I was going through was hard and real. I needed someone on my side that I didn't have to prove myself to. I thought I would find it in a sorority sister or maybe in my one of my fellow classmates. But life had a way of laughing at me and I found it in the most unlikely friend.

That friend was the newest Sigma Nu pledge. I met him after he was told by the fraternity president that he was in charge of assisting me in getting more food for everyone at the football tailgate. I remember him sitting shotgun in my car on the way to Winn Dixie for chips saying "wait, YOU are the school slut?!" and laughing his head off. You see, he was from the same city I was. He went to the school that I worked at part time and knew exactly who I was. Because to him, I was the girl that all his friends in high school made fun of for being a loser. He used to pass me as I clocked into work in the afternoons as he and his teammates were walking to football practice not so casually whispering about me. Although, I too, knew exactly who he was. He was my next door neighbor's very best friend. He was on our wrestling team and had received a very warm welcome to the school from the women on campus and I already couldn't count on one hand how many sorority sisters he had already been with. Although with his laughter my anxiety actual went down a couple of levels. I didn't have to prove my reputation with him. He already knew what I was deep down (a loser) and he didn't believe for a second any of the stories that anyone told about me. We knew what people would think if we became friends. The f boy and the slut. A tale as old time. Thus my reputation era was born.

-MV

[pan-of-light]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens

Finally sat down to watch the whole thing, many disjointed thoughts below the cut.

TL;DR: sevens good.

Yuuga: Much like the last protag to wear a red jacket with a white neckpiece, Judai, there is something wrong with this kid. He's too okay with everything. He's the goddamn player character of pokemon SunMoon who never gets an emotion showing in cutscene on his model-

(and unlike judai, afaik, he never had electroshock memory wipes done to him before)

He's great. He gives no shits. He took a job at a major corporation that owns the town he lives in and everything in it, as an elementary schooler, bc hacking them was too annoying and it was easier to have them hand over the credentials so he could mess with their shit, while also being a head or more shorter than like everyone else in the show. I want to study him like a (lady)bug.

Luke: Yuuga's name is on the title(-ish), but this guy is the actual Hero of sevens. The actual Hero of sevens. It's important, so I said it twice. He's a bratty elementary schooler who I can't even call a chuuni because of how young he is, but he has the heart where it matters. And multistrike dragons. ALL the multistrike dragons.

Romin: The seven-colored light of redemption, though I feel bad about opening this not about anything about her so much as "first decent yugioh girl"... First decent yugioh girl. She's not nerfed, worfed, or shoved aside partway through the series, being a competent duelist with a sensible win/lose ratio like any other side character from previous series.

Her arc about embracing selfishness, finding new dreams, and never giving up on anything she wants are so good. And now with Tiger in the family to teach her martial arts, she will never stop.

Gakuto: were it not for the VA segments at the end of episodes I would never notice he's Nekobot Hanae. What do you mean goddamn Gakuting is Riddle Rosehearts. It makes perfect sense yet GAKUTING also makes me want to die every single time. Not as much as the translators probably want to do every time he opens his punny mouth, but close.

Roa/Nail: Spiky and Fluffy. Band Kid and Nerd. The first two main bosses and a genuine delight every time they take the screen. I am forcing them to share a list spot just like they were forced to share seats during the tournament arc. While I can't put them in a jar to shake, I'll settle for maining their decks in DL instead. I'm still convinced Roa, unknowingly, dreams of having someone punch his face in, and that's why he's Like That (terrible at every opportunity). His relationship with his boytoy vs Neil's funny themed henchmen (and butler robo dad) is also fun to think about.

Asana and the Cav Quartet: Asana was going to get her own spot but I can't separate her from her generals. She sort of reminds me of Kiriyuin Satsuki when I think about it, the militaristic antagonist with perfectly reasonable motives who joins the protag as soon as possible, except Satsuki doesn't have a goddamn pidgeon as a general. A pidgeon. Has his own ID card and documents and everything. The human is his brother, but the human was adopted into the pidgeon family, that also owns a company. I'm sorry Asana I love you and your bi energy but what the FUCK is up with those two.

Mimin: SINGLE MOMS REPRESENT, an anime mom that beats every dead and dying allegation. She's plot relevant, has screen time, and the narrative never actually forgets she's an adult with her own motivations and dreams, no matter how nice to the 10yos she is. That said, the tech she uses isn't that old Sevens stop trying to convince me I'm old, sevens!!!

Presidential Siblings in general: why do we not market ygo as a cyberpunk series when we have 'children raised in space in isolation bc they were chosen by a supercomputer to run the City-Owning Megacorp' as a normal thing that happens. That's not weird by modern yugioh standards. We crossed that bridge during 5Ds guys. This is our life now.

Yuuou: I want his musical theme. Also brings back the only good ED mechanic (/biased branded player) into the new era. Maximums are nice, sure, but Fusion is always perfect.

Swirly: I'm honestly surprised I saw some talk online about how he was 'forgotten' and 'never defeated' when like. Guys. We had two full cours showing his defeat. Living as Swirly with the Rush Club gang and being exposed to the kindness of humanity and the fun of dueling is what fixed him. Luke didn't even really need to duel him, he'd beaten the evil before he even stopped wearing the kigurumi.

That said, how the FUCK are you smaller than Yuuga. What the fuck did you eat in space that let you be so small. Illegal.

THE★LUKEMAN: remember how I said the presidential sibs were par for the yugi-course by now? This isn't. This is just pure What The Fuck. I've personally rewritten his entire origin story in my head because it was just that fucking stupid. And now i'm upset his cards dont have the ★ in their names in DL. What a waste.

Otes: Most of the Sevens cast is weird as hell. Not Seto tops them all. His deal is mysterious, he's evil from the start, but his loss ratio is so big I'm actually shocked he put up a fight as the final boss. I'm praying GO RUSH gives me some info because Yuuga's smile on reentry was too Otes-like for me. They have a connection beyond the Sevens Road and it's going to drive me insane. I need to put this man under a microscope immediately.

The -ko Girls: I also need to know their deal, but without putting them in a lab. They're so much fun to watch, they can just hang around.

[specialability]

I am really too tired but finished Busman's Honeymoon by Dorothy L Sayers and am still swooning over Peter/Harriet/Bunter. So here you go:

Adults who met as adults and fell in love but don't get together immediately

Harriet has insecurities w/r/t power imbalances between her and Peter and he RESPECTS that even though it breaks his heart and they TALK ABOUT IT (eventually)

Peter being a motormouth who talks like Bertie Wooster but actually is very smart

But also very sensitive :( even though he really works hard to hide it to everyone but Harriet and Bunter

Bunter served under him in The War and in a dire moment Peter said "yanno if we survive this and you need a job after the war come find me" and Bunter did

And Peter was so fucked up with PTSD after the war that Bunter pretty much immediately just took over his entire life and took care of him

So obviously Harriet is worried Bunter will have Problems when they get married but he does not because he likes that she is a good match for him

And Harriet really likes Bunter as well but Bunter maintains a very strict and Appropriate Relationship per the whole valet/lord/lady thing

Bunter once almost had a breakdown because some vintage super £££ port of Peter's got sloshed around by another servant he's that kind of guy

They solve mysteries together

Peter met Harriet because she was accused of killing her at-the-time husband

And then when he got her acquitted he asked her to marry him and she said fuck no gratitude is no way to have a relationship

She's an authorial self-insert and I don't mind at all

She studied at Oxford and so did he, although at different times and she didn't know that until like the book before they get married

She realizes that she has been taking his love for granted and needs to learn more about him sincerely

There are so many fucking great scenes where they just. Have an argument or something. And then immediately talk it out like sensible rational people.

Or go away and think about it for a while and address it later

It's not that kind of woke thing you see you bad writing these days where everyone is using therapy speak because it was written in 1937 and at the time it was still debatable whether or not women should really be allowed to have an education

But they do literally have a conversation about whether or not they really want to have kids in a shockingly modern manner

So this whole marriage of equals thing where he respects her independence and she allows him to take care of her sometimes is genuinely still quite revolutionary

And anyway they hit a lot of tropes I like and I wasn't expecting these mystery novels to be so densely emotional and compelling

all three very competent and smart,

they need to get over themselves before getting together,

they don't go about the romance the conventional way,

things aren't immediately perfect as soon as they get married,

they do a lot of bantering (that in a modern adaptation would probably change all the classical literature references and long paragraphs of French into memes and movie references or something),

they have the utmost respect for each other,

they are not incomplete without each other, but they also are a perfect fit for each other.

Anyway. Yes.

[teenageread]

Review: Legacy of Kings

Synopsis:

Imagine a time when the gods turn a blind eye to the agony of men, when the last of the hellions roam the plains and evil stirs beyond the edges of the map. A time when cities burn, and in their ashes, empires rise.

Alexander, Macedonia’s sixteen-year-old heir, is on the brink of discovering his fated role in conquering the known world but finds himself drawn to a newcomer…

Katerina must navigate the dark secrets of court life while hiding her own mission: kill the Queen. But she doesn’t account for her first love…

Jacob will go to unthinkable lengths to win Katerina, even if it means having to compete for her heart with Hephaestion, a murderer sheltered by the prince.

And far across the sea, Zofia, a Persian princess and Alexander’s unmet betrothed, wants to alter her destiny by seeking the famed and deadly Spirit Eaters.

Weaving fantasy with the shocking details of real history, New York Times bestselling author of Sex with Kings Eleanor Herman reimagines the greatest emperor the world has ever known, Alexander the Great, in the first book of the Blood of Gods and Royals series.

Plot:

It was the day before Jacob was leaving that he told Kat he loved her. The Blood Tournament was a battle to the death with the winner receiving a cash prize that would set the winner up for a good life. Promising to marry her as soon as he returns as a winner, Jacob was wary when Kat did not seem overjoyed. That is because Kat had one mission to do before settling down and marrying Jacob. She must kill the woman that murdered her mother, which is difficult because that woman is the Queen. Following Jacob to the Blood Tournament, Kat meets Alex, the heir, and son of the person she wants dead. Not knowing who Kat is, Alex takes her under his wing and makes her a noble lady at the palace. Happy to meet Kat, Alex is not too pleased that Jacob won the tournament, as he wanted his childhood best friend, Heph, to win. As Alex does not have access to the palace funds, he was going to take Heph’s winnings to travel and find the fountain of youth to heal his birth deform that left him with a limp. Where Heph has been distant lately because of Alex’s affection for another stray, Cyn tries her luck to separate the dynamic duo and convince Heph that Alex is out to harm him. With Philip II of Macedon leaving to fight a war, the Queen and the teenagers of the palace are out to play with lying, thieving, love, and matter of the past become uncover as another war is blooming, one that Alex, Heph, Jacob, Cyn, and Kat have been waiting for.

Thoughts:

What a fantastic world Elanor Herman has set up for themselves. There are not many young adult novels that take place in 330 B.C, and very few books in general written about Alexander the Great life as a teenager, which is why Herman dominated the market with this series. Doing their research, Herman takes a creative spin on the story of Alexander the Great, adding in a lot of characters, and constantly switching point of view. This story moves roughly around eight (nine?) characters, consisting of Alex, Heph, Jacob, Cyn, Kat, Zo, the Queen, and honestly probably a lot more characters that I am forgetting. As the chapters are not titled with which point of view you are following, you figure it out pretty quickly as Herman makes their names one of the first few words, as the location does not really help as the majority of characters are within the palace. However, despite having so many characters, Herman does an excellent job at keeping them all relevant and keeping their stories interesting so it does not drag when it's their time to shine. With five parts, Herman keeps the plot moving steadily as you switch between characters who have all secrets with each other. For historical fiction, Herman did take some creative liberties, and it will be interesting to see what they do with the series as the story progresses and Alex grows up into the great conqueror he is meant to be. I took a university class on Alexander the Great, so I will be definitely keeping a close eye on the liberties Herman takes throughout the series, but so far they are doing well as they accurately tell the tale of Alex’s and Bucephalus meeting. Herman is definitely setting up for a series, as this book does an amazing job with setting up the storyline and introducing a lot of characters, with an ending that fills in some questions but leaves much more open.

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

[the-mess-of-a-dreamerrr]

Big Reputation...

In my life my heart has been broken many times. Some by boys, mainly by life. I know what it is like to feel grief and dejection and never have wanted to be the source of that for anyone. My job title currently is banker but in reality I am a professional in people pleasing. For as long as I can remember I have always cared deeply what people thought of me and always wanted to appear competent and kind. I pushed myself to obnoxious lengths to ensure that I met all the invisible marks that I had set for myself that I thought would win me the title of "good" and therefore would earn me the affection of those around me. I was the ultimate "pick me" girl. Except, people rarely did or at least not those who had good intentions.

I have been stepped on so much emotionally that it has taken me years to accept interactions for the manipulation that it was. To know where my wants begins and others wants for me ended. However, I am pretty proud of the way that I fought physically. I have never been the girl that would reach for someone's hands or naturally melt into someone for an embrace. For every time a boy leaned in I leaned out. I was very aware of the cruelty of men and what they could do and I wasn't about to be bait. For a long time I used to think something was inherently wrong with me. Why did other girls attract cute highschool boys and instead I always had the grown gross men or the guys that are in between the stints in Jail. No, I was okay with not being touched.

Fall semester of my freshman year of college was supposed to be a new beginning for me. A chance to finally be a kid and have fun. I went to a school that people affectionately call "the home we love so well." And I probably would have cherished my time there if it hadn't been for meeting a boy on my 2nd day of school at a block party in front of the president's house. He was my best friend until the day he wasn't. Until I became enemy number one for the simple word of no. The thing about going to a school where nobody knows you is that they have no history to compare notes with when being told about the newest slut of the school. And as the story goes I became the least experienced slut in school history. It would have been downright hilarious to hear what my classmates were saying of me if it wasn't for the fact that they believed it. Mix this new reputation in with my fear of lacking in value and thus my workaholism personality trait was born.

By my sophomore year I was well into my personal plan to prove everyone wrong about me by being the best at...well everything. I was in 9 honor societies, was an ambassador for the school, a student marshall, was a chairman for my sorority, was in 4 clubs, had 4 (at times 5) part time jobs, maintained a 4.0, was on the church young adult council, lead small groups and sunday school all while attempting to have a social life. I did all of this just to prove my worth. That they were wrong about me. That I truly was in control and their comments and names did not in fact break my bones and nothing could ever hurt me. But in reality I was desperate for someone to just look at me and tell me that they knew me. That what I was going through was hard and real. I needed someone on my side that I didn't have to prove myself to. I thought I would find it in a sorority sister or maybe in my one of my fellow classmates in my major. But life had a way of being ironic and I found it in a person that I should have not gotten along with. Someone whom typically my path would never cross in any significant way.

That friend was the newest Sigma Nu pledge. I met him after he was told by the fraternity president that he was in charge of assisting me in getting more food for everyone at the football tailgate. I remember him sitting shotgun in my car on the way to Winn Dixie for chips saying "wait, YOU are the school slut?!" and laughing his head off. You see, he was from the same city I was. He went to the school that I worked at part time and knew exactly who I was. Because to him, I was the girl that all his friends in high school made fun of for being a loser. He used to pass me as I clocked into work in the afternoons as he and his teammates were walking to football practice not so casually whispering about me. Although, I too, knew exactly who he was. He was my next door neighbor's very best friend. He was on our wrestling team and had received a very warm welcome to the school from the women on campus and I already couldn't count on one hand how many sorority sisters he had already been with. Although with his laughter my anxiety actual went down a couple of levels. I didn't have to prove my reputation with him. He already knew what I was deep down (a loser) and he didn't believe for a second any of the stories that anyone told about me. We knew what people would think if we became friends. The f boy and the slut. A tale as old time. Thus my reputation era was born.

-MV

Spencer asked me about him while drunk on our anniversary. We had a long conversation about him and our friendship. It was the first time we really talked about him other than just quick snips and surface level questions not really saying anything. I asked Spencer what made him think of him and he said he just saw that he was a suggested friend on my discord app(lol). Sometimes I really struggle with feeling like a wrecking ball in people's lives. Like interacting with me is like touching pandora's box. I truly feel like I'm the wrecking ball in his. - MV

[sauntervaguelydown]

Insurance is for suckers let’s go

Part 1 (Green Jacket): wildly variable quality. The first half of the series has the “high drama James Bond underworld” genre convention of the manga without its dark-comedy sensibility, creating a weird misogynistic morass of This Might As Well Happen, I Guess. Format is episodic heist of the week. Visually resembles Johnny Quest as directed for porn

Sexism: comes out at 5/10 stars because of the midway change in direction.

First half Highlights: ep 4 has the iconic long-way-round prison break; ep 9 explains who Fujiko is

Second half Highlights: 14 is where the quality picks up as Hayao Miyazaki takes over for good. Tone becomes less dark, Fujiko gets sassier, art direction is ambitious

Part 2 (Red Jacket): probably what you remember from adult swim when you were a kid; this series occasionally leans into the loony tunes logic and usually sells it. Heist of the week format. Somewhat rocky start and then gets into a groove midway season one. Episodes tend to speed up as they go and end with a breakneck pace of plot turns. Solid background noise for eating meals alone.

Sexism: your run of the mill “women are materialistic and inscrutable” type. Points for letting Fujiko be competent at her job. 7/10 girlboss points

Highlights: Lupin fakes his death multiple times and Zenigata keeps crying about it; in one episode Zenigata’s girlfriend dies in his arms and then the plot immediately pivots back to loony tunes shit

Part 3 (Pink Jacket): both sillier and also somehow more committed to the bit. Haven’t watched much.

The Woman Called Fujiko Mine: one season with an overall arc, at first disguised to look like heist of the week format. Gorgeous art direction. The plot has a pretty interesting science fiction foundation.

Highlights: the many sequences where characters are tripping balls are smooth, intriguing, ambiguous, and may contain ghosts

Sexism: incredible amounts of fan service; Fujiko learns nothing and does not grow as a person. She is treated as a cipher by all the male characters. She’s not even good at stealing. 2/10 girlboss points.

Part 4 (Blue Jacket): a modern style anime with an overarching season plot interspersed with one-off episodes. There’s a lot of focus on the weird shit happening around Lupin’s gang, and the absolutely bonkers choice in story arc contrasts strangely with the more grounded character writing. All the staple characters are endearing, even when the plot is making you say “what. What. How.”

Sexism: pretty good for modern anime; Fujiko is less present in the story but has a fair mix of petulant girlboss energy and actual competence. Rebecca is basically fine although handled sloppily. The topic of sex trafficking comes up repeatedly and it’s not any worse than you’d expect, although not much better. I give 7/10 watchability. but in a different way than part 2

Highlights: both Jigen and Zenigata have solo episodes which I recommend to anyone, they’re both fun character studies

Part 5 (still blue): this series ambitiously focuses on the concept of the gang being Men Out of Time; technology, surveillance, and the changing world are major focuses. Part 5 asks “can we still have Lupin in 2020?” I think it handles this well.

Sexism: shroedinger’s cat of “is it self aware parody or is it just confused fanservice”. Fujiko is literally only allowed to solve problems by getting naked. Also a teenage girl is introduced in her panties for no acceptable reason. 5/10 I am writing a strongly worded letter

Highlights: there’s a whole two parter about Zenigata and Lupin and this teenage girl surviving in the wilderness, and it’s a LITTLE bit gay.

Part 6 (Green Jacket Redux): this suffers from a first half and second half directed by different people. The first half arc ending builds up a lot of good will that the second half ending ultimately burns through. It’s a very entertaining series over all, and if you’re forgiving about over-complicated schemes the end reveal of the second half might not even bother you.

Sexism: gets points for having lots of different kinds of women, good and bad and ambiguous. Fujiko is fine actually. It even has an old woman doing stuff, which I thought anime was allergic to. That overcomplexity I mentioned loses it some points but even so it’s a solid 8/10 “women are people” stars

Highlights: finally a Sherlock Holmes who isn’t an arrogant asshole

Lupin Zero: there’s only 6 episodes but I’m genuinely impressed with it. Writing quality is up on par with 6, and it’s fairly episodic. You have to suspend your disbelief that a 15 year old would be hired as a solo gunman. Also you have to suspend disbelief that he could just fire a gun in public in Japan in the 1960’s and not cause an enormous panic. Still, they’re selling me on Jigen/Lupin, which is not an easy task. Writing kind of feels like Hunter x Hunter

Highlights: this is the SECOND time a Lupin series has done a sexy Che Guevara with the serial numbers filed off

What if I did a quality recommendation assessment of all the Lupin iii series I’ve watched instead of filing my insurance claim

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition. 

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: Little Brother Knows Everything

I lied. Here's a bonus chapter.

Warnings: Mention of Death ; Unrequited[?] Love ; Mention of bombs ; Jealousy

Words: 3.1k

Tommy may have been an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. He noticed the little things more often than he didn’t. But there were four things he knew about you better than anyone else.

Tommy knew that you liked tea.

Siblings, and people in general, seem to have this habitual kind of indicator of their mood. Some people bounced their leg when they were nervous, others liked to twiddle their thumbs or pop joints; It’s different for everyone.

But he could always tell how [y/n] felt by the tea they were drinking.

When they were nervous, they made tea brewed from lavender buds collected from a flower field they often visited with Technoblade or Phil. They brought Tommy once. He had run around the whole area with infinite energy before the blond climbed the tree. He had climbed higher and higher until he could feel the warmth of the setting sun shine on his face. The branch broke, but when he plummeted, he wasn’t scared. They were at the bottom, waiting to catch him. They were always waiting to inevitably catch him no matter if it was from his own stupid decisions or from someone else’s. They got nervous a lot, but when he was by their side, he could never be.

When [y/n] was stressed, they made tea out of the peppermint leaves in their garden. The scent filled their house while it brewed and the act of harvesting the herb was “soothing”. Tommy wasn’t sure how weeding was supposed to be relaxing, but he happily did it when their newest sibling figure asked him to. He remembered pulling out a whole mint plant the first time he had worked beside them, unknowing that that was the plant he was supposed to be protecting. They had laughed, gently scolding him, before setting it aside. Even if they were stressed out, they never took it out on him.

When he was sad or upset, they made chamomile tea with honey. Chamomile is a calming flower, he remembered them saying once. And the honey helped you remember that golden days were ahead. They made it for him every morning after he would wake up in the bed he seemed to sleep in more than his own. Sometimes the honey came from Technoblade, sometimes they had retrieved it themselves from wild hives, but they always seemed to get the best stuff. Even when he cried or started to -what was the word they had used? Disassociate? That sounded correct-, he could expect the mug to be pushed into his hands, a sugary but not cloying aroma wafting off it. He always felt much better when he left. He could never remember seeing them drink the tea, despite having such an abundance of it. Did they even get sad? He had never witnessed it.

When they were happy, they made black tea of various kinds and drank sweet iced tea that reminded him of what diabetes would taste like if it were liquid. They drank this with him almost daily. It was always a new blend they wanted to try and perfect or one they wanted him to taste. He loved smelling this tea the most. When its fragrance filled the air, somehow, everything felt right in the world. He couldn’t recall a single time when he didn’t see them on the porch, drinking the amber liquid out of a glass when they knew he’d be coming over for dinner.

It was the days when you didn’t drink tea at all, he was afraid.

Tommy knew that no matter what someone did to them, [y/n] wasn’t afraid to make enemies or insert themselves between their friends and any sort of danger to protect them.

Dream was surprised to see [y/n] at the meeting between the Greater Dream SMP and L’Manburg. It was only supposed to be him and George convening with Tubbo and Tommy. They held no real power in the country. They didn’t belong in this meeting, just like they didn’t belong in this timeline.

He watched the way they, during George and Tubbo’s discussion, rested a hand on Tommy’s arm when his hands clenched hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He saw how they would murmur quietly to him and the child would relax ever so slightly. He noticed the nods they gave the blond when he looked to the adult for confirmation after he made a questionable statement. He observed your true role here.

“Nice to see you replace Wilbur so quickly, Tommy. That’s good. He was a horrible role model for you.” His lips curled behind his mask at the shocked expression on everyone else’s face aside from the vice president before him. His eyes were sharp, angry. “Maybe without his influence, you’ll actually be a competent leader for something.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Considering L’Manburg was supposed to be totally destroyed and returned back to the Greater Dream SMP, I’m glad you found someone a bit less self-destructive to help keep you under control. We all know Wilbur did a horrible job at it.” Watching the child soldier stand quickly gave him a certain satisfaction.

“Fuck you, bitch! I don’t need to be told what to do.” Dream watched [y/n] give Tommy a warning look and the way he ignored it.

“And yet you followed someone who lost his own presidential race and blew up his own country before seeking out validation from someone else.”

“I don’t-”

“Tommy.” He watched the blond flinch at the edge to your voice and look down at you.

“He’s saying I-”

“I’m aware. He’s just trying to rile you up. It’s what he does. Ignore him.” The glare they sent him made a sharp jolt go down his spine, but he couldn’t help the chuckle that spilled from his covered mouth.

“Listen to your sibling, Tomathy. At least this one is sane. And if they kill themself, they’ll come back.” Tommy opened his mouth once more to say something before it snapped closed and he released a breath through his nose.

“I don’t need this.” The slam of the door echoed through the now quiet room.

Dream’s attention was immediately back on [y/n]. He watched them square their shoulders and lower their head to look him dead-on. Their glare met him with a hidden fury threatening to break forth and raise the hell that seemed to be just as deeply rooted in them as it was the company they kept. Their lips were pursed in a way that made his own grin grow larger. "Wilbur may not have been the best man. He may have hurt me and put the rest of L’Manburg in this situation. But that is our business alone, and you have no right to say anything bad about him or about Tommy, for that matter."

There was a pregnant pause and he heard George start laughing awkwardly to dispel the tension before being hushed hurriedly by Tubbo.

“And what is it you’ll do to me if I do?” Dream kept his voice level.

“You know why I’m here and who’s behind me. You can use your imagination..” They stood, chair scraping against the floor loudly. “I’m going to check on Tommy.” “But we’re not done!” They stopped at the door, hand resting on the handle.

“I’m sure you can handle the rest by yourself, Tubbo. You know what to do.” They looked at him over their shoulder, before glancing over George and then settling on the man in green. “Don’t you ever speak his name ever again. Or we just might have to build that prison you mentioned. Am I understood?” Sullen nods came from the monarch and the president as they stormed out.

“Well, that was something.”

Tommy had been sitting in the hallway, curled in on himself the same way he had been after the Pit incident.

“Toms?”

“Why is he even here?”

You sat next to him, back resting against the wall.

“Because he cares about George. Kinda like why I was in there for you.” You felt the taller lean against you and relax when you wrapped your arm around him. “I’ll always be here for you, Kiddo.”

You felt him nod and you pressed a kiss to his hair.

“You know I’m not trying to replace Wilbur, right?”

“Of course not. We were like brothers.” His lips quirked a little when he heard your laugh.

“If he were here, I’m sure he’d tell you not to say that or he’d cry.”

“Good. Fucking bitch.”

He didn’t know what he’d do if you never came back.

Tommy knew that the only other person who loved you as much as he did was Technoblade.

Techno had never felt jealous of Tommy before. Or really anyone. He was pretty secure in his position as your best friend, and the vast amounts of platonic affection you showered him with kept him content. Even during the Pogtopia rebellion, watching the looks and touches Wilbur gave you or seeing the child sneak into your bed for another night in a row didn’t make him jealous. So why did he suddenly have the very real impulse to shove the blond off the side off a cliff just to retake some of your attention?

The hybrid watched you talk with your hands as you recounted the night before and your surprise at finding Tommy already there when you came home from Phil’s. He was happy he had been right. You and Philza were similar in many ways and got along well. You would constantly joke with Techno that you were trying to get yourself adopted by the older blond and he would just respond with an amused “don’t tempt him, he might.”. You would always laugh in response.

That was always the best sound.

He listened to your words as he topped off the teacup in front of you with more of the red-tinted liquid. The warm scent of earl grey and roses wafted off of the cup tinged with the subtle tang of the orange peel he had added on a whim. You were right in your suggestion. Citrus always makes deeper teas better.

“If it’s really that bad, the offer to move in still stands. I have more than enough room and you can escape that raccoon.” He snickered at the pout that rested on your lips.

“I never said that I didn’t like it! And don’t call Tommy a raccoon.” He sipped his own tea.

“It’s true. Gets into trash, beady little eyes, a nuisance. He even breaks into your house.”

“He has a key, Tech. It’s different.” You had rolled your eyes at him, but the smile on your face spoke of your fondness for them both. He felt the small well of jealousy in his chest flare. Did Tommy know how privileged he was? He hoped the child knew.

“I’m just sayin’. Whenever you want to leave that place, my door will always be open for you.” He watched your smile soften and the firm squeeze when you reached across the table for his forearm.

“I appreciate it, but Tommy needs me still. Maybe one day, okay?” He grunted at you and you giggled. “Who knows, maybe Phil will come with! He could build his own little cabin and everything.”

“I’ve already extended the offer to him as well. He said he’ll think about it.” You shook your head.

“He’s probably trying to figure out how close to the meadow he’d be in comparison.”

“Man loves the flowers, what can he say?”

“Sure, it’s definitely the flowers.” You sipped your tea with a knowing grin.

“What else would it be?” He watched the glint in your eyes, seeing exactly what Tommy had always said about you. They had seemed a lot deeper lately, more knowledgeable. The child had always claimed that you spoke like you knew more than you let on and he saw it in your smile sometimes, but the look you were giving him right at that moment confirmed it.

“Maybe it’s all the memories.”

He couldn't imagine you not returning the feelings they both held for you, despite the vast difference.

Tommy knew that you wouldn’t hide anything from him unless it was absolutely imperative.

He found you sitting in the living room, curled into an old recliner that you would never tell him where it came from. You felt Tommy haphazardly throw his arms around your shoulders from behind, releasing a small sigh of contentment as he pressed his face further into your neck.

"Hey, Kiddo, what’re you up to?" His grip on you slackened, and you could almost feel his face draw up to a small pout. He absolutely hated that nickname but couldn’t deny the small warmth that flared in his stomach whenever you called him it.

"[Y/n], how many times have I asked you to stop calling me that?" He removed himself from you when you shrugged your shoulders.

"Sorry, Toms, the nickname stays. You're too much of a brat for it to leave." He groaned, eyebrows drawing together. You knew he wasn’t entirely mad at the name. He wouldn’t have whined the way he did if he truly wanted you to stop. You and Tommy seemed to share a wavelength. It wasn’t the same one you shared with Techno, but it was just as perfect. You wished you could tell him why it was.

The realization set a rock that started in your throat and slowly started to sink to your stomach. It spread through you, causing a wet hot sensation to form behind your eyes. You’d never be able to tell your little brother your deepest secret. What if he hated you? What if he told everyone else and they cast you out? What if he felt he couldn’t trust you anymore?

Carefully pulling yourself out of your own thoughts, you looked up at the child. “I’m sorry, what was it you wanted?”

"Can I talk to you?" Your eyes flicked to the book you were reading before back to him. You knew what he wanted. A bookmark was wedged between pages and the room was silent before you stood. "Sure, kiddo. Is it going to be a long chat?" You set off to the kitchen, soon pouring some water into an old kettle that Phil had given you the day that you had awoken. You had been “gone” for over a full day. Aside from Phil, no one else knew what had happened and where you went.

An opaque jar was pulled from the cupboard, carefully opened, and he watched as purple buds, green leaves, and yellow-white flowers were deposited gently onto the mesh cloth that you would tie into a sachet. He had never seen them combine those teas. He didn’t even realize you had such a large jar of it stored.

“What happened at Phil’s?” You hesitated before steadying your hand and pouring the steaming water into a teapot before setting the sachet in. It floated for a moment before you used the string to dunk the bag a few times to soak it before it sank midway.

You only pulled one mug down.

You gestured for him to sit at the table and he took it. You could see the way his anxiety rose even higher when you didn’t sit across from him.

“What day? I’ve been at Phil’s a lot lately.”

“Oh fuck off. You know what day I’m talking about.” You shrugged, trying to keep your expression even.

“I really don’t, Tommy. You’re going to have to narrow it down for me.” Your fight or flight instincts were dialed to high when he gave you a knowing look.

“You don’t have to lie to me, [y/n]. I’m not a child.”

“Yes, you are, and I’m not lying.” You flinched when he slammed his hands on the table, chair screeching as it was slid back with too much force before it fell backwards.

“Then why have you changed?” You froze. “You used to love spending time with me before-”

You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, when you saw his lips quiver, but he turned his head away from you. He couldn’t look you in the eye.

“Before you were gone for almost two days and came back wrong. You don’t talk like how you used to either. It’s like you know things, but like, more than you used to. And come to find out from Ranboob, you had gone to Philza’s house. What did he tell you?”

You just shook your head, wanting to tell him you remembered him. You remembered every timeline he was in. Every moment he had fought for what he believed in and won. Every time he had died. Every timeline he could have died.

“Did I do something? Is it because of Ghostbur? Do you-” He looked back up at you, looking exactly like the sixteen year old he was supposed to be. “Do you hate me?”

“Of course not, Tommy. Why in the world would you ever think that?”

“Then why won’t you tell me what’s going on? Siblings don’t keep secrets.”

“They do when they’re trying to protect the ones they love, Tommy.” You watched his face grow red in frustration.

“You’re not always gonna be there for me, [y/n]!”

“You don’t know that.”

“Why won’t you just tell me?” His voice broke, and so did your heart.

“Because you’re still just a kid, Tommy. And I think sometimes you forget that. And everyone else too. And I can’t tell anyone what happened.”

“But why? I stopped being a child when we won our first war. I should be able to hear about this!”

“Because the things I saw, the things I heard, no one else should have to bear this weight.” You swallowed back your tears. This was no time to cry. “You can be mad at me all you want, Tommy. But I’m still the same [y/n] who tucks you into bed and links pinkies with you on the Prime Path and who will always be there for you.”

The hurt look he gave you would haunt you for the rest of your lifetimes.

“Then why won’t you let me be there for you?” You could only shake your head.

“Because that’s not how it works, Kiddo.” Tommy’s eyes hardened and he sucked in a quivering breath.

“Fine.” He started walking back towards the door.

“Toms, where are you going?” He didn’t answer you.

His tea was bitter and cold by now, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but feel the same.

Tommy knew all those things about you. So why did it feel like maybe he didn’t know you at all?

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Experiences I’ve had as a female coach in a sport with co-ed teams and training (male and female athletes are on teams together, go to practices together and train with each other, and compete at the same tournaments, but those tournaments have separate male and female divisions), where the athletes are mostly male but there are a sizeable portion of female athletes, and the coaches have a few women but the overwhelming majority of them are men (in this case, as will occasionally be relevant, I mean cis male and cis female athletes, because this is about my experiences and I’ve never worked with any openly trans athletes):

- I’ve had many athletes across the years use me as a reference for jobs, I’ve always said yes, and given a good report when their potential employers call me. Three separate times across a bunch of years, I’ve gotten a call from a job, asking me about the male athlete who used me as a reference, and thinking he was my coach. Twice, the male athlete in question was a university-aged athlete, so it made very slightly more sense than the other time, which was when the athlete was in high school. No high school athlete is coaching anyone who’s over the age of about 10. University athletes theoretically could be coaching teenagers, and teenagers generally sound the same as adults on the phone, so I guess it could have somehow been possible for me to be someone they coached. But still – all three of these athletes had written on their applications that I was their coach. Their employers just glanced at that briefly, saw a male person applying for the job and a female person with whom they had a coach-athlete relationship, and assume that meant they coached me. Because statistically, even female athletes rarely get female coaches. Male athletes almost never get female coaches.

Every time I explained that no, this guy looking for a job had not listed an athlete he coached as a reference, he’d listed his own coach as a reference. And I am his coach, and he’s a fucking wonderful person who is going to grow up to be the sort of man who does not automatically assume that in any male/female coach/athlete relationship the woman must be the athlete and not the coach, because his experience of having me as a coach means he grows up normalizing the idea of women in positions of authority. (To be clear, I don’t actually explain that important feminist point to my athletes’ potential employers, I just talk about how great they are and then complain to my friends later about the misunderstanding that was caused by a perfectly well-meaning potential employer who fell into the natural assumptions that people make when they only know society as it exists today.)

- There are a lot of Muslims in my sport generally and on the team I coach specifically, for two main reasons. Firstly, this sport is especially common in a lot of Muslim-majority countries, so families that have recently come to Canada from those countries are more likely to encourage their kid to join this sport than are families from other cultures (including the non-immigrant Canadian culture, since the sport isn’t very popular in Canada). Secondly, this is a very low-cost sport and my co-coaches and I have worked for years to create a team that provides significant accommodations to low-income families and never turns away any athlete due to lack of money, and in my city, a disproportionate number of low-income families are Muslim. This is not because they don’t have the ability or work ethic to make money or whatever, it’s because my city has a relatively large population of people who have come over here from the Middle East because Western countries keep bombing their countries of origin, and those circumstances tend to lead to people who come over with not much money.

One time, a kid (I say “kid”, I realize I have a habit of referring to anyone I coach as “kid” no matter how old they are, so for the record he was 15 at the time) I’d been working closely with for a year won a major provincial competition. His final match was incredibly contentious, against an older and more experience opponent, from a bigger team that had more money and more people. It was a very intense experience to stand in that corner during the match and hear most of the people in an arena booing my kid, just because he wasn’t from the bigger and more popular team. My kid winning that match was a beautiful moment of underdog triumph, the stuff sports movies are made of.

As soon as the match was over, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the crowd. We were all wired and emotional, he’d just experienced heights of emotions that were a hell of a lot to deal with at 15 years old – I know because they were a hell of a lot for me to deal with, and I was just the coach in the corner and not the athlete on the mat, and I was 27 and not 15. This kid had several coaches, but I was the one who worked with him most closely on anything related to the mental game especially. As soon as he won that final match, he dragged me off until we got out of the immediate crowd and had a little room to breathe. Then he threw his arms around my shoulders, buried his head in my neck, and burst into tears. That was the first time I’d realized just how unsure he’d been of whether he’d win that match (I knew going in that he was more than good enough to win, but when he started crying with relief after he actually did win, I realized how he had not been sure he could do it). I was so struck by the realization of how scared he’d been, that I didn’t know what to do but say “Oh, [name redacted]”, and just hold him, and it was a beautiful moment.

Someone took a picture of it and put it on social media. I’m not generally a fan of social media, but I did think it was sort of cool when I saw that picture a few days after the event, seeing what it looked like from an outsider perspective, of him just falling apart in my arms right after winning. The next day at practice, he told us he’d gotten into a huge fight with his parents the night before, because someone had shown them the picture that had gone around social media, and they were angry that he was making physical contact with a girl. Because as a Muslim, he was not supposed to touch any girl he wasn’t going to marry. He told us they’d nearly forced him to quit the sport. He convinced them to let him keep doing it, but only barely, and only by promising that this touching of girls was a one-time occurrence that wouldn’t happen again. Which was funny, because I was his coach who had taught him a lot of moves, and practised those moves with him. And in a full-contact sport such as this one, that is not possible to do without physical contact.

Several months later, he showed up to practice early and announced, “Hey guy, my mom’s going to come by practice tonight. So, um… I need all the girls, even the girl coaches, to not touch me or even really talk to me during this practice. Sorry, I feel bad and you guys are great and everything, it’s just that if she sees that happen she won’t let me come back.” We stayed away for that one night, and the next practice, I was back to working moves with him, and he was back to doing full-contact training with his female teammates. Because we are a team that raises boys to see girls on the team as fellow athletes and not as just objects to be pursued or avoided due to sexuality.

- A year or so after that, another Muslim kid (in this case, by “kid” I mean “17-year-old”) had his mother come watch practice. This doesn’t often happen. We have a lot of Muslim kids, but most of them get to practice themselves on the bus, and we often never meet their parents. But this one day, that one kid’s mother did show up. That kid didn’t tell us he wanted us to act any differently in his mother’s presence, so I didn’t.  But I was rather nervous.

Near the end of practice, I ended up doing a live match with the Muslim kid whose mother was on the sidelines. I’ve been avoiding saying the name of the sport because I don’t want this word plastered all over my blog for privacy reasons, but since it is relevant, I’ll say it once: it was a wrestling match. I regularly did matches against this kid, and I normally used just enough of my strength and skill to beat him, but held back enough to let him practice his own moves. That’s how people learn.

While we were doing this match, I could not stop anxiously glancing at his mother on the sidelines. She was looking at us, and I couldn’t see how she felt about it, because her face was covered. She was wearing a Niquab, so I could see her eyes clearly, but not anything else. I couldn’t read her facial expression just from the eyes. All I could see was that she was watching us closely. Very, very closely. I was self-conscious, worrying that she was going to see me doing this full-contact match with her son and not let him come back to practices.

The next day, the kid sent the other coaches and I a message to let us know that his mother had enjoyed her experience of sitting in on practice, and wanted him to tell us so. I replied to him privately, saying I was glad she’d liked it and I hoped she hadn’t been bothered by our match at the end. He replied that she wasn’t bothered by it, but he wasn’t going to let her come back to any more practices, because he’d never been roasted more in his life than he had in the last 24 hours. He said his mother had spent most of her life in Taliban-occupied Afghanistan, where women were expected to not beat men at things. At practice, she was watching my match with her son very closely because it was the first time she’d ever seen a woman beat a man at something like that, and she thought it was hilarious. He told me she spent the whole car ride home making fun of him for it, and talking about how cool it was that he had a coach like me.

I suppose I could have guessed this kid would be cool with breaking certain traditional Muslim rules even in front of his family, just based on his name. I won’t reveal his real name, obviously. But I will reveal the name that everyone called him, and that was DJ. Which was short for DJ Haram, which was the nickname this kid had given himself, and he’d insisted on being called by that for so many years that it had stuck.

Yeah, it’s a case of internalized misogyny to look a female person beating a male person at anything – especially if the female person is an adult coach and the male person is a teenage athlete so really the female person is supposed to have the advantage – and say it’s funny that the boy lost to a girl, because boys aren’t supposed to lose to girls. But I figured that level of internalized misogyny could be tackled another day. For the moment, I was just very pleased to find out that the intimidating woman on the sidelines wasn’t staring at us because she was mad at me for making physical contact with her Muslim son; she was staring at us because she was impressed to see a woman in a position of authority.

- I once helped a female athlete clean blood stains out of the crotch of her singlet, which is the uniform we wear in this sport. Actually I’ve helped multiple female athletes do that on multiple occasions, but the occasion I’m thinking of now was at the national championships. We stood together in a bathroom of an arena in some city that’s across the country from where we live, that had taken a five-hour plane ride to get to. We huddled together at the sink, running the singlet under cold water.

It had gotten stained because she’d cut a fair bit of weight to get into her competitive weight class, and had just barely made it. Athletes were legally required to weigh in wearing a regulation singlet, but they didn’t have to wear anything else. So when an athlete, male or female, was close to the weight, they’d weigh in with no underwear or anything else on, so nothing else would add to their weight. Even a tampon would be a fraction of a gram that she couldn’t afford.

So she waited in the weigh-in line wearing just her singlet, while having her period. She intentionally wore a red singlet, and luckily the line wasn’t too long, so she wasn’t there long enough for it to bleed through too much. But it did go through a bit, and she came to me afterward for help with washing it out.

While we stood at those sinks and washed out her singlet, she told me she felt bad for the many girls on the many teams that had all male coaches. Because as much as she loved her male coaches, who are my friends and co-coaches and lovely people, she would not have been able to ask for help with this. And this was an awkward and embarrassing thing that was made easier because she could go to me for help with it.

A year later, she went off to university. She went to a university that was a 20-hour drive away, on a full athletic scholarship, because she was really fucking good at our sport and the head coach of this far-away university had offered her a full ride if she would come compete for his team. That university team had a male head coach and several male assistant coaches, and no female coaches. Those male coaches were all lovely people, a few of them are friends of mine. But the girl who went out there messaged me a month into her time at that university to say she missed having female coaches.

- One time, an athlete I was very close with lost a match that he really, really should have won. After the match he disappeared, and I figured he wanted to be alone, so I gave him some space. But ten minutes later, one of his teammates came to me to say he’d gone into the change room while saying he was going to change and go home, forfeiting the rest of the tournament. His one loss did not put him out the tournament, he still had more matches to do, and it would be quite bad for his athletic career if he forfeited them.

I went downstairs to where the change rooms were, and found a closed door. I called his named through the door, and he called back that he was mad at the world and going home. There were male coaches on the team, and I could have just sent one in there. But this particular kid (and when I say kid, in this case, I mean “17-year-old”) was closer with me than he was with any of the other coaches, and I had the best chance of talking him out of it. Also, of all the coaches on our team, I was the one who was generally the best at handling psychological crises.

So I said some more shit, and for the next fifteen or so minutes, that teammate went back and forth, relaying messages from me to this athlete and back. After those fifteen minutes, the change room door opened, and the kid came out. I asked him what he was doing - had he come out because he was going to head home? The kid put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “I have to go warm up for my fifth-place match.” Then he walked upstairs, warmed up for a while, walked onto the mat when it was his turn, and beat the shit out of his opponent in his fifth-place match. Had one of the best matches of his life. Later that night, he sent me a message to thank me for not giving up on him.

So I went back upstairs, and grabbed another male athlete, who was a friend and teammate of this kid. I dragged him downstairs with me. I told him what I wanted to say, some shit about how I knew it was hard in this moment but he’d regret it if he walked away now. The male teammate went into the change room and relayed the message. A minute or so later, he emerged from the change room, and told me, “He says he’s not coming out.” He had passed along my message, and the sulking athlete was unmoved by my initial argument.

That was a bunch of years ago now, and I am still quite proud of the time I talked a kid out of forfeiting through a change room door. When people ask me if it’s weird to be a woman who coaches male athletes - and this is a question I get somewhat often when I tell people what I do with my life - I reply that it’s normally fine, but it can be difficult when they lose tough matches and go into the change room to sulk and I’m not allowed to follow them in there. That’s the only problem. Being a woman who coaches male athletes is, contrary to popular opinion, fucking fine - except when they go cry in change rooms.

For the record, the kid in that last story was also Muslim, and I’ve met his parents and they like me. They have absolutely no problem with their son training with, and being coached by, women and girls. That’s not important to the story, but I’m adding it to make it clear that different Muslim families vary massively in how they view these things, and a kid having Muslim parents does not inherently mean that kid has sexist parents.

Okay, I’m done this for now. Obviously I have lots more stories, those are just a few that I felt like telling at the moment, from my somewhat unusual position as a woman who coaches male and female athletes, in a world where most athletes of any gender only get male coaches. Female coaches: they’re important role models for girls, but also for boys, and for anyone else who’s involved in sports.

[aerialflight]

Fic Rec (it's been too long and I read a whole lot of fics)

I've read so many fics these past couple of months and my need to share them to the world has seized me by the throat. Please enjoy and support these fanfic writers! They are the best. XD

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[Naruto]

Nine-Tailed Foxes are Dead by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Shikamaru/Naruto

For Konoha, it's been one month since the preliminary Chunin exams. For Naruto, it's been six. And he wasn't in Konoha.

At the end of his ordeal, Naruto walks into the Chunin Exam finals without his left arm.

Shikamaru is very concerned. And, eventually, very precious to Naruto as they work together to solve the mysteries of Konoha and bring kindness to the Shinobi world, one adventure at a time.

(I would die for this fic. I know the summary sounds doom and gloom but IT'S NOT. This fic made me fucking cry, I don't think I've ever read a fic that characterized Naruto so right. He's so full of hope and love and develops into the best version of himself and I'm so HERE FOR IT. And it's not just Naruto, Shikamaru is absolutely amazing here along with Kakashi and surprise surprise Ino, I can't BELIEVE it took me this long to stumble across this fic. Also THE WORLDBUILDING IS TO DIE FOR!!! And the plot! Is! So! Interesting! Just, everything about this fic is just amazing so please PLEASE read this!!!)

The End of the Uchiha by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Naruto/Sasuke

“I promise, little electric spirit of this shrine,” he whispered into the soft dirt and fallen leaves, “I will never gain the eyes. I will never pass them on. And I will make sure the eyes end in my brother, so that they can’t hurt anybody anymore. I will be the last Uchiha, and see to the end of the Copy-Wheel Clan. Then all of the hatred here can stop, and my family can rest peacefully. I promise, little shrine.”

Sasuke is more than his brother thinks he is. He's more than any Uchiha has ever been. He will kill his brother, but it will not be vengeance.

It will be mercy.

(Same author as the one above, they are the gift that keeps on giving. Seriously, HOW did I NEVER FIND THESE FICS before now??? One of life's greatest mysteries. The author's sense of humor is so on point here along with the atmospheric writing that's so vivid in the mind. Their writing style is so recognizable to me now and makes me fall into the world they're creating, it's stunning. Sasuke here makes me want to hug him and the idea of him living like a feral ghibli character has me LIVING. Check the tags of the fic, all of it is true, hand to god. Please give all of the author's fics a shot, it's a rabbit hole I'm thankful I fell into!)

mil fantasmas (gritan en calma) by LegaciesandMemories

Post-Tsukuyomi, something in Uchiha Sasuke's mind shatters. The same night, Yamanaka Ino falls asleep and doesn't wake up for 15 days.

---

In which Ino and Sasuke both wake from the aftermath of the Uchiha Massacre with the ability to see ghosts, and no one is prepared for the fallout.

(This fic has arrested my curiosity and eagerness to know what will happen next. These poor kids need so many hugs and Ino is getting the spotlight she deserves. I am so excited for this fic and what it has in store! Please read! XD)

Lichtenberg Figures by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Name: Kakashi Hatake Rank: Jounin Status: Missing Nin Missing Since: June 15th, 271 AD Note: Flee on Sight . . . Haburashi looked his team in the eyes— three, fresh out of the Academy genin— and resolved to teach them as best as he could. And right now, his lesson was simple: “Stay. Away. From. Kakashi. Hatake.”

(Dimension travel fic with a slice of Kakashi being an absolute troll and dealing with the shitty hand he's been dealt with. Seriously, the man has the worst luck in all of Konoha. Also, the mystery of the other Kakashi's history has me leaning by the edge of my seat, I need to know.)

The Governess by Ysmirel

Ship: Kakashi/OFC

"“What,” he finally asked, “is so funny?”

Ibara bit her lower lip to keep the chuckles in, still smiling and making absolutely no effort to get more space between them, seemingly perfectly at ease within reach of a trained shinobi. Her self-control wasn't all that good, as she ended up snorting and was overcame once again by another fit of laughter. “I just- It's just-” She struggled to speak, trying to catch her breath and wiping away tears of mirth with the hand that wasn't still holding onto his vest. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said, with a smile that was all teeth and without a hint of her previous drunken stupor, “and who's going to believe you?”

As he stood there, stunned by her words and change in demeanor, he realized with dawning horror that she was right."

In which Kakashi finds himself at the other end of the troll shtick, and he doesn't appreciate it all that much.

(It's so hard to find self-insert fics with a fresh concept these days, especially in the naruto fandom. Not that I don't enjoy and devour a lot of self insert fics like it's going out of style, but it's just so nice to find something new and shiny and really damn good. I'm so pumped for this fic and how it's going to develop so please join me in rooting for this fic!)

half a league (until the valley of death) by SpectersShadow117

Kakashi can think of no reason for Sasuke's inexplicable and drastic change in behavior. He doesn't like the desperate, haunted gleam in his student's eyes, and he also doesn't like the nagging feeling that he's missing something very important. Aka: Future Sasuke goes to Past Sasuke and gives him a reality check with Specific Intentions, but as with most Uchiha, his methods leave much to be desired. (Featuring: Childhood trauma FTW, Konoha's shitty care of orphans, and absolutely no one having a fun time.)

(Sasuke wanting to change the future out of complete and utter spite has me LIVING. Sasuke is such a Mess here and the twist on the time travel premise is so good and the kid is so Traumatized and Desperate and Not Having A Good Time. Naruto and Sakura developing as better ninjas and Kakashi trying his best makes me want to scream. Also, how Sasuke thinks about Itachi makes me want to cackle. I am 100% down for this. I am rooting for this kid, go get them! XD)

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[Harry Potter]

fruit loops in time (circle around me) by justprompts

Ships: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius

"This is Crabbe, and Goyle," the blonde boy says, pointing at the two boys next to him. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Ma - "

Ron laughs, and Malfoy immediately bristles.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Malfoy says, angrily. "No need to ask yours - "

"You're honestly so cute," Ron interrupts, yet again, shaking his head. "So tiny. And so angry, all the time. It's adorable."

Alternatively Ron Weasley, Time Traveller Extraordinaire, is stuck in the same seven year Hogwarts Loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. Naturally, he's so done with everything.

(This is the greatest hp fic I've ever read. I LOVE RON WEASLEY and by the time you read this fic SO WILL YOU!! This is the fic I WISH I have the ability to write. I read this entire fic aloud to my brother and we spent literal hours howling and talking about how utterly insane and incredible this fic is, it's amazing. This is hands down my favorite Ron Weasley. You Can Pry This Fic From My Cold Dead Fingers.)

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[Boku no Hero Academia]

Kacchan's Cult by Ourliazo

Pro Hero Ground Zero is attacked, originally meant to be de-aged out of existence by a desperate villain but is instead launched into his 14-year-old self.

But Katsuki is a fucking pro so whatever, time to fuck up someone's day. And sure, maybe he's only one man, but that's why he conscripts the entirety of the UA student body into tearing down some criminal empires.

(It's time travel, crack, and Bakugou being his usual explody, competent self. What more in life do you want? Seriously though, please read. I'm obsessed with this fic and having a Good Time!)

Cleaning Crew; Teaching Kids to Value their Safety, for Fun and Profit by Reavv

Takenaka Hideo is a thirty-two year old, in mild desperation for money, who has just been hired as a new janitor for UA's support staff. He has a quirk that lets him find lost objects, a liaison with the police because of it, and desperate desire for competent co-workers.

Oh, and he's already lived a previous life, in a world where quirks and heroes didn't even exist.

Not a big deal, though. It's not like you ever see the janitor playing a big part in action movies. He's here to get paid, and that's it.

On the opposite side of the equation, class 1-A has to wonder at the new UA cryptid that always seems to show up when things are on fire, and who keeps trying to convince them to let the adults handle the fire extinguisher.

(A great deal of fun packed into one fic. That is how I title this fic and nothing will change my mind! Hideo just wants to quietly do his job and not get in the way. I Relate. Please read!)

Poltergeist by WriterGreenReads

Class 1-A is haunted.

Well, not really.

I AM dead, though.

World's friendliest poltergeist, at your service.

(I don't know how I got so sucked into OC fics, but I found some fantastic fics along the way so I have no regrets. The author really tries to push the premise and I just love all the interactions and dynamics that form as the fic gets further in. And the OC character and all the hijinks they get up to cracks me up! At the same time, it's pretty heartwarming and it's practically a friendships galore fic! Definitely recommend it!)

invincible by supercrunch for Engrin

Ship: Bakugou/Midoriya

This is the way the world works: the sun rises in the east. The strong come out on top. Bakugou Katsuki rockets through life like a comet and Midoriya Izuku stumbles after. If he believed in such things Katsuki would say it was written in the stars. That some god of war had looked at him and said this one. That he’d been passed along a line to get his blessings – genius, willpower, fearless ambition – and dropped off on earth.

Then, of course, there is the question of Deku. The spitfire runt. Deku, no matter what the world does to him, never stops hoping.

Until, of course, he eventually does.

(Katsuki broke him. Snapped him in half like a twig and now has to scramble to put Deku back together. “We can do this, Deku," he says slowly. "There are so many mysteries that never got put to bed. Criminals roaming around looking to hurt people and you and me, we can fix that.”

There’s a long pause. The comforter slips a little off Deku’s skinny shoulders and drowns him. “You mean like a team?”

In that split second, Katsuki makes a decision he’s never even considered. He swallows his pride. “Yeah, Deku. We’d be a team.”)

(If there was any other way canon could've gone, this is the story I would've wanted. It's perfect.)

Inadvertent Wilderness Therapy by Cacid

Following an unfortunate encounter with a teleporter on the last day of internships, Bakugou Katsuki and Hakamata Tsunagu spend some quality time in northern Canada.

In no particular order they will: build ugly survival shelters, stalk rabbits, run from polar bears, reflect on the chemical composition of trees, insult each other, and complain about krumholtz.

(THESE TWO. TOGETHER. IN THE WILDERNESS. IN FUCKING CANADA OF ALL PLACES. I still can't believe this fic actually exists and just how INVESTED I became in their relationship. Blue Jeanist instantly became my favorite ranked hero with this fic alone. HIS SENSE OF HUMOR IS TERRIBLE, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH FNIEWOPAF. BAKUGOU DOES TOO. IT'S FUCKING INCREDIBLE. *incoherent screeching into the wild*)

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[Stranger Things]

Baci D'aria by RabbitDarling

“Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.” ― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

Steve learned a lot at his Aunt's side before she passed but his favourite thing she taught him was baci d'aria; special little spells that you created from the heart and put into the food you shared.

In opening his heart and gifts to those around him Steve slowly finds himself a family in a way he never thought he'd get to experience. One by One he collects pre-teens to trail in his wake like ducklings and Steve can't even refute it by the time he realizes what has happened.

(This fic is so soft and Steve is just collecting people and winning them over with his magical food (literally). I am always a sucker for heartwarming, good for the soul fics so if you want to make yourself hungry and feel all warm and gooey inside, read this!)

(Don't Fear) The Reaper by TeaFourTwo

Ship: Steve/Billy

He looks down at the blood on his hands and on the floor and wonders why the memory hasn’t broken yet, why he isn’t back in Starcourt mall with control of his body again, wonders if he's even still alive at all. Is this hell then? Or perhaps purgatory? It certainly isn’t heaven, that’s for sure. None of this makes any sense…but then what's new—nothing in Billy’s life makes sense anymore.

Billy laughs then, loud and long and unhinged. It's the only sound in the whole house, and it bounces off the walls like a fucked up echo, like the world is laughing with him.

“Jesus christ you’re insane…” It’s Max’s voice and it’s shaking. It only makes Billy laugh harder, because Max has it all wrong. Billy isn’t crazy, it’s the rest of the world that’s insane.

--

Billy dies a hero of sorts. He wakes up back in his bed on Saturday morning, the third of November, 1984...nearly nine months earlier.

(Billy is stuck in a time loop and it's slowly driving him crazy. And the fic shows just how much influence Billy did have in the plot and how doomed the world is without him in it. Great character exploration with Billy's character and all the ways he's so messy and human. Definitely recommend it!)

-

[Knives Out]

The Road Less Traveled By by UisceOneLove

Ship: Marta/Ransom

If Harlan wants to leave Ransom to be on his own, fine. He'll show him just what Ransom Drysdale is capable of.

or, where Ransom chooses to prove his abilities through means of the non-homicidal variety and finds himself becoming exactly what Harlan was hoping he would.

(I found this fic out of sheer chance and god, Ransom is just, so fascinating to me as a character. Marta of course is the Best here and I will forever stan her. Seriously, this is such a good fic! Please read!)

-

[Haikyuu!!]

Sky Full of Stars by grilledsquids

The Hinatas are twins. They're practically identical.

But while Shouyou seeks out Karasuno's volleyball team to become the next Little Giant, Natsu is scouted to to play soccer for Shiratorizawa. While Shouyou sets his eyes on playing volleyball at the highest level possible, his sister wonders how much longer she can play soccer... and if it's worth it to keep going.

A Natsu-centric story featuring: Shiratorizawa VBC shenanigans, too many soccer OCs, mild teenage drama, a little bit of plot, and Semi Eita not knowing what a period is.

(It's just!! So cute and wholesome!!! The Shiratorizawa volleyball team is so fleshed out along with the OC characters for the girl's soccer team and I swear, it's been a long while since I've laughed this much at the sheer shenanigans that happen in a fic. It's surprisingly hard to find good gen fics in this fandom so finding this gem made me so happy! If you want a fic that brings a smile to your face, read this!!)

like water by speakingincode

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, and when Tooru looks at him, he can read My best friend’s an idiot off the crease of his eyebrows. “Are you telling me you spent the last three years weirdly obsessed with Kageyama – I still remember the time you made us play him on a dumb whim, you know – and now you’re at his beck and call? Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m— I’m not at his beck and call! I said no last week. It’s… It’s like you said. I get bored easily. I saw him at the park a couple weeks after they played Nationals and called him a perfect little tyrant, and he pestered me into spending time with him after,” Tooru says. “I’m not a monster, Iwa-chan. If he wants the company of his cool, handsome ex-upperclassman that badly, who am I to begrudge him?”

Or: Oikawa doesn't know why Kageyama keeps asking to meet him on Saturdays. He also doesn't know why he keeps saying yes.

(The fact this fic is canon-compliant and covers post-canon too makes me want to shout to the heavens. Fucking incredible! One of the best Oikakage fics ever and it's a crime how it's not at the top of the ship tag. Please please read!!)

twist into your shape by kakkoweeb

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

The only thing better than sweets were sweets containing paper that told you whether your future would be good or bad--or in Kageyama and Oikawa's case, paper that somehow caused you to live inside each other's bodies.

(Everyone probably already read this fic but it needs to be said, you need to read this fic. How these two try and manage each other's lives and slowly start to care about one another is so beautiful and sincere and I am ready to wrestle anyone to the floor and comply them into reading this fic. Doesn't matter if you like the ship, you will become a fan if you read it, I promise. Please please read!!)

Take the Long Road Home by pepperfield

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

When Azumane Asahi goes missing before his engagement meeting with Kozume Kenma, what other option is there but for Daichi to impersonate his brother and fake his way through a first date with Asahi's fiance?

Okay, let's be realistic - there were probably at least four other options.

Unfortunately, Tetsurou couldn't come up with any of them either, so now he's here flirting with Kenma's future husband while trying to keep his web of deceit from collapsing.

It's going to be an eventful day.

(I got obsessed with this ship alongside Oikakage and SO WILL YOU. THE POTENTIAL. THE BANTER. THE FACT THEY'RE BOTH DORKS AND THE FIC HAS IDENTITY SHENANIGANS DANCING ALL OVER IT!! I had so much fun reading this and these two are MEANT TO BE FENIWPAF. If you don't see the potential of this ship, you will now.)

a misunderstanding a day keeps the boyfriend away by bartallen for betuls

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

Kuroo doesn’t fall in love hard and fast like many others do – he falls slowly, and very very softly. Most of the times he doesn’t even realise he’s in love with someone until it’s too late.

(Kuroo is the dumbest man alive and I've never related to someone so hard in my life. God help me.)

You like me. by roseknight

Ship: Daishou/Kuroo

Kuroo nearly lived a Daishou-free life, and sometimes he looked back and wondered how much better and how much worse that would've been.

(I didn't even know who Daishou was until I read this fic and now I can't unsee the potential this ship has. I'm a ruined woman and I regret NOTHING.)

Kings of the Road, Kings of the Universe by EzzyDean

Eight magical captains, one bus, an entire summer (and country) waiting for them.

What could possibly go wrong?

(The magic of friendship meets the magic of a summer road trip meets pure magic.)

(CAPTAIN SQUAD IS THE BEST SQUAD SOMEBODY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME SOME CAPTAIN SQUAD FICS I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS SQUAD IT'S A PROBLEM AAAAHHHHHH!)

宿縁 : See You Soon by MissKiraBlue

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

Upon arriving at the train station of death, an impure soul is granted a second chance at life against his will. Reincarnating into the body of Kageyama Tobio, a 15-year-old boy who recently committed suicide. Tobio's soul will depart at death and the soul needs to slip in to replace it. If the soul's reformation succeeds, he’ll reenter the cycle of rebirth and regain the right to be reborn. He will have three months to accomplish this task.

“Even though you had enough of life,” the soul whispered into the void of the room, “you were still afraid to hurt your hands, Tobio.”

Afraid of giving himself a scar, if he survived.

He touched his pulse and grasped life and couldn’t help but pity Kageyama Tobio.

"You wanted to die and now I’m here making you live again," he whispered into the night.

(I'm not even exaggerating when I say out of all the fics in this entire goddamn, too long list, this is the fic I'm anticipating and heart eyeing the most. It's only starting, but I already cried on chapter fucking 2, the power of this fic, holy shit. The author also wrote the hq time loop Every Tomorrows series, which I have an undying love for and am full on praying for the day it updates, so you KNOW this fic will be just as good. (Anybody who hasn't read this series, where the hell have you been?? Read it!!) Just, everything about this fic hurts me and something in my chest just aches when I read this fic. Go into it blind with an open heart and I swear to you, it's going to change your life. I'm already calling it. Seriously though, please please read!)

-

[Crossover]

Learning to Fly by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, Naruto

The number three hero is a walking (well, flying) contradiction in every sense of the word. This includes his teaching skills. Why had Tokoyami agreed to this internship again? Oh right. He’d thought he was actually going to learn something. …….remind him to never be so optimistic again. . . . OR, Kakashi Hatake is reincarnated as the pro hero, Hawks. Tokoyami Fumikage suffers as a result.

(The reincarnation fic I never thought I needed and it's so good!! I've never really paid attention to Tokoyami and this fic sent me headfirst into loving him. Their dynamic is so interesting and I just love how their relationship develops. Also, Kakashi trolling the poor kid made me cackle, it's great! Definitely recommend it!)

Si Vis Pacem by athenoot

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, John Wick

Everything has a price. That's what John has always known and will forever remember, even in death.

Which is pretty ironic considering his current circumstance.

Instead of a grown, scarred, weary body belonging to a man as cruel and broken as him, he's inhabiting a younger, smaller, unblemished one belonging to a child with strangely colored hair, and is living in what seems to be a superhuman society.

Well. May it never be said that John isn't a strategist. He can live with this. Maybe.

(Somewhere out there in the universe, he's certain he could hear the laughter of his enemies from beyond the grave.)

-

Or: John Wick is reincarnated as Midoriya Izuku. The world should probably watch its back.

(This should be one of the crackiest fics I've read in a while, but it's taken so seriously and I'm so HERE FOR THIS. John Wick being John Wick in a world of quirks and heroes is the GREATEST, honestly, he's so badass. Bakugou, I feel for you, you must be so fucking confused lol. Bakugou trying his best to be a good friend is one of the best things about this fic. Trust me, this fic will make your day, promise!)

A Girl's Mind is a Dangerous Place by clenastia

Fandoms: Naruto, Fairy Tail

Natsu wakes up in Sakura's body. It only gets worse from there. Also known as: In Which Natsu has No Idea what to do with Boobs.

(I binged this in two fucking days, I couldn't put it down. This fic reminded me why I liked fairy tail when I was younger and why Natsu is honestly such a great protagonist, god. And the fic does that thing, you know, the Thing where when two worlds collide, the characters struggle to acclimate and adapt to a completely another world with different rules and mindsets against their own. This fic is seriously one of the best when it comes to that aspect, it's incredible. I am going absolutely feral over here for this fic to update, I'm waiting in the wings, ready to pounce like a tiger, all the metaphors man. For the love of god, read this fic.)

Give me a landscape made of obstacles by Melise

Fandoms: Naruto, Natsume's Book of Friends

Kakashi Hatake isn’t who he says he is.

Because the truth is that he’s actually a youkai in disguise, a wolf spirit named Madara who stumbled across the Hatake clan during the Warring States Period. Intrigued by the shinobi he saw, he’d proposed a temporary alliance in which he would offer the clan protection in exchange for their teachings.

Decades later, Madara is surprised to find himself inadvertently summoned to Konoha by the last living member of the Hatake clan. Sakumo Hatake, who is mourning the recent deaths of his wife and stillborn child, doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So with his permission, Madara takes the place of Sakumo’s deceased son in order to watch over the last Hatake.

(Fusion in which the youkai of Natsume’s Book of Friends all exist in the Naruto world. No knowledge of Natsume’s Book of Friends required).

(Before this fic, I only had a very vague idea of what Natsume's Book of Friends was, and honestly, I still don't know much about it. But I didn't really need to know to get into this fic. I love the worldbuilding and the relationships Kakashi forms, both supernatural and mortal. I love how Kakashi's inhumane ways affect others around him, whether to stress them out or become used to the strange. You can go straight into this fic without knowing anything and absolutely still have a fantastic time. I definitely recommend this so please read!)

[your-brilliant-lady-m]

Part 4 - Basic Concepts of Miraculous Ladybug: Glamour

You can call it however you want: kid's show logic, superhero disguise logic, magical girl show logic, cartoon laws, suspension of disbelief, etc. But the fact that nobody recognises Marinette, Adrien and others when they are suited up IS NOT BAD WRITING. It's one of the main laws of this genre. That's not because characters are stupid, okay? So, being frustrated that everyone in the show acts stupid about this "wearing a mask that covers only eyes" trope is strange. This criticism is not valid or fair.

But, this trope has to make sense in-universe as a worldbuilding and narrative element.

Miraculous doesn't give us much direct information on how glamour works. And in this case, I think we need both SHOW and TELL. Because if you don't establish the glamour rules clearly, you are going to run into problems and create unfortunate implications with your storytelling choices.

Appearance

Miraculous obviously gives our heroes magical glamour. In "Lady WiFi" we find out that masks can't be taken off. It's magic. No other explanation is needed.

Miraculous can slightly change the appearance of users (eyes, face shape, height and hairstyles). People can identify and notice the hairstyles of heroes (numerous Ladybug wigs, statue in Copycat). Jagged Stone points out the change of hair when he mistakes Chloe for Ladybug ("Antibug"). But it's just a costume. There is no magic that prevents Jagged from understanding that Chloe isn't Ladybug. So, how does it work? But it's forgivable because it's cartoon logic. Suspension of disbelief works here, I suppose. I won't judge this too harshly.

Glamour also obviously prevents people from making a connection that Marinette and Ladybug have identical hairstyles. So people know that Ladybug wears her hair in pigtails, but magic does not allow them to notice similarities.

Another important question. Does glamour work on Kwamis? Can they see who is behind the mask?

New York Special makes it clear that magic does not affect robots and they can see through glamour. Does that mean that Markov, AI built by Max, knows the identities of Ladybug and Chat Noir? And it's never addressed.

Plagg in "Frightningale" says that holders can subconsciously choose their superhero appearance. This is actually pretty interesting and I like this idea a lot. Except the show is not consistent with this. The transformation of Master Fu looks identical to Nathalie's. And we have seen how different from each other Ladybug and Black Cat holders looked in the past. At the same time, Master Fu and Nino have different takes on Turtle superhero suit.

Age Glamour

Does age glamour exist? Do people see Ladybug, Chat Noir and other heroes as adults even when they look like teenagers to the audience (their height and build are smaller even when they are transformed)? Is that why no one ever questions the fact that children nearly die on a daily basis?

I mentioned unfortunate implications earlier. Well, this is where they come into play. Let's talk about "Copycat". A lot of people discussed it before me, so I won't bore you with details.

When I watched "Copycat" for the first time Theo's crush on Ladybug didn't bother me, because I thought that he sees Ladybug as his peer, a girl who is about 20-23 years old. Theo is an artist, his character design is that of an adult. He has his own studio, its appearance indicates that he did serious commissions in the past. The guy has no idea that Ladybug is like 13.

But then we get "Heroes' Day" and "Ladybug". And Hawkmoth calls them "kids", which means that there is no age glamour. Others see Ladybug and Chat Noir as teenagers. Perhaps, other Miraculous users aren't affected by age glamour. Therefore regular people see all heroes as adults but other heroes are able to guess their age more or less correctly. But you must spell this thing out because the audience can interpret "Copycat" differently. If there is no age glamour, then Theo is crushing on a teenage girl and he is fully aware of this fact. And this doesn't look good for your show.

The "No Age Glamour" theory is further confirmed in "Sapotis" where Alya just straight up analyses voice recordings and says that Ladybug is a girl their age. If glamour exists then it should also cover technology. Kwami can't be photographed. Face and voice recognition software shouldn't be able to analyse transformed superheroes and detect their identities in any way.

Besides, after "Sapotis" Alya should definitely be sure that Ladybug is not 5000 years old (also not an adult), especially after she wore Miraculous herself and was one door away from detransformed Ladybug.

SEASON 4 UPDATE! There's no age glamour after all.

In "Furious Fu" Su Han calls Chat Noir a child without knowing his identity. It means that everyone knows their superheroes are teenagers. "Copycat" can't be saved from that, uh, subtext anymore. No one questions the danger of their job or the balance of their lives outside of the mask. No one doubts their competence after "Origins" ever again. No one becomes annoyed after being bossed around by two teenagers in spandex. You had many opportunities to drop these details into the narrative. Someone could have been akumatized over this (I will not be ordered around by some magical kids!).

I don't know why writers decided not to use at least this idea and slightly adjust "Copycat" if they got rid of the age glamour completely. It can be explained as kid's show logic, but unfortunately, I'm reluctant to do it. If many characters sympathise with akuma victims on-screen, why not with the teenage superheroes who must fight them?

New York Special had this weird focus on collateral damage out of nowhere (the damage done by sentimonster Robostus) and yet it has 0 effect on the main story. No one in Paris is pissed that their 2 teenage protectors weren't there.

Ironically, "Furious Fu" and that one remark made by Su Han also created unfortunate implications for other moments in the show. Just hear me out. Apparently, Jagged Stone wrote a "thank you" song for Ladybug knowing that she is 13-15 year old child back in "Pixelator". Fandom is more than happy to roast Lila for lying about saving Jagged Stone's cat and him writing her a "thank you" song. Fandom claims that Lila's tale could harm Jagged's reputation, when he wrote a song for teenage Ladybug several weeks prior. Meanwhile, in-universe this lie is 100% believable.

If we put on "realism glasses", then both this whole song situation and Theo's crush in "Copycat" have uncomfortable implications. However, the show's canon can't be viewed and criticised through "realism glasses". I admit that bits and pieces of my criticisms are affected by these "glasses", but, ultimately, I'm trying to be fair and concentrate only on things that can't be justified by "cartoon logic and worldbuilding".

Could the existence of age glamour solve this problem of unfortunate implications and other concerns mentioned above? YES. Is it better for the narrative? YES. Is essential for the story? NOT QUITE. Could the absence of age glamour be called an irredeemable storytelling flaw? NO.

Disclaimer: On a side note, only older audience can notice these implications. Children, the target audience, most likely won't understand this subtext simply because they don't have enough experience. So, perhaps, this criticism is unfair, because these moments only look weird to me as an adult. It's like an adult joke in a cartoon that you don't get until you reach a certain age.

There's nothing technically wrong with adult writing a "thank you" song for a teenager. It's just an expression of gratitude. However, unfortunately, we live in a world, where adults normally wouldn't write songs for teens to express gratitude only. In real life similar actions would imply pedophilia and would be actively scorned by the public. No one would risk their reputation like that even if their intentions were genuinely pure and sincere. But this show can't be viewed through "realism glasses", because it's a cartoon and in certain cases we as the audience must use suspension of disbelief and pretend that certain things are possible for plot to happen.

Su Han also wants to give Ladybug and Black Cat to adults. Why didn't Master Fu do this then? Writers don't give us any explanation. Throughout the show we never question this up until the moment it's revealed that adults don't have time-limited powers. Then comes "Furious Fu". Story suddenly becomes self-aware here. Because apparently nothing prevented Fu from giving the most powerful Miraculous to adults who won't have time limit and will be more effective against Hawkmoth (see part 3 for more details).

I have a very good example of Age Glamour done right. It works in the story. There is no confusion or unfortunate implications. There is like one plothole connected to the glamour (it's been years and I still can't forgive them for Cornelia and Caleb) but otherwise, it's a pretty solid example of both show and tell. Clearly, writers wanted to avoid uncomfortable implications which are present in "Copycat". I am talking about W.I.T.C.H. comic books and animated series.

If you are not familiar with it, I'll give you a brief explanation. The story follows 5 girls, the Guardians of Kandrakar who are chosen to protect their world and parallel ones from evil. They receive magical powers from the amulet known as the Heart of Kandrakar. Their powers are based on elements: fire, water, earth, air and energy. Our main characters are about 13-15 years old. In the animated series they are younger and they attend middle school, making them 12-14 years old. But the transformation makes them look 18-20. They look like young women to each other and to other people. At the same time, people can recognise them, their looks and voice don't change. Most people don't know that they are really teenagers when they are not transformed and these people don't know that magic can make them look older. That's why everyone treats Guardians like adults when they are transformed. Comics establish this fact in the very beginning. In first issues characters state that they look older, we are also shown this multiple times.

In fact, one of the first side plots revolves around the fact that Irma uses her powers to sneak into the disco club to meet up with her crush. Irma is 13 at the beginning of the series, she is a high school freshman. Her crush, Andrew Hornby is a senior guy 17-18 years old. Irma has liked him for a long time and wants to impress him, so she decides to be clever about this. She transforms into her Guardian form of the 18-year-old girl, hides her wings, sneaks out to the club after her parents are asleep without any problem, and meets Andrew, who obviously doesn't recognise Irma in this girl who looks about his age. Smitten Andrew offers her a ride and 13-year-old Irma doesn't understand the implication of that offer, so she accepts. And, obviously, he decides that she is interested in more than just a ride home, since she agreed, and the comic implies that he fully intended for them to have sex in the backseat of his car. But Irma understands the implication only when Andrew tries to kiss her. She panics and turns him into a frog. And she actually pulls this "I need to look mature" trick more than once over the course of the series.

It's not the only situation where this age difference is handled well and makes sense. People who know the main characters in everyday life remark on their older appearance during transformation. Sometimes people flirt with Guardians when they are transformed. In one of the side-novels centred around Cornelia, she is worried that the prince of the realm they helped to save from famine would try to marry her. That never happens, but Cornelia actually brainstorms with her friends about how to tell the prince that she is really 15.

There are many other plot points where this happens, but I think that you got the idea. I really like how "Age Glamour" was handled in W.I.T.C.H.

How do we fix this? Create the situations where people offhandedly mention "Age Glamour" in the presence of Marinette or Adrien, use Kwami for this.

"Don't worry, dear. Chat Noir and Ladybug are adults, who know what they are doing. I am sure that they will handle this. "

Theo could say: "Oh, I wonder which university Ladybug goes to?"

"So, does that mean that other people see us as grown-ups, Tikki?"

A few words and boom, problem solved. Then allow the "show don't tell" rule do the rest.

[phoenixrising0308]

An American in Cordonia: Penny for your thoughts

Books: The Royal Romance 1

Rating: M (18+) Sexual situation and adult themes.

Trigger Warnings in this chapter: None

Pairing: None

An American In Cordonia Series premise: A New Yorker seeking adventure and love finds herself living abroad to competing for the hand of a man who will become King. When things don’t go according to plan they enter into a Cordonian arrangement. This is a series about Jessica Garcia’s life abroad, her time as a suitor, and explores her romantic relationship with Liam while she lives in a Cordonian arrangement. Catch up here

Disclaimer

Chapter Song inspiration: This is love - For King & Country

Chapter Summary: The TRR gang write in their journals as Liam try's to enjoy his last night of freedom.

Word Count: 1, 960 *As always, forgive my typos and grammatical errors.*

Average reading time: 8 minutes

Leo

So I did it at a gala. I felt I was in my comfort zone a gala that’s like my natural habitat. Turns out it didn’t matter where I asked because Katie said no. It was hard at first … I risked it all for love and failed. But I still think Liam would make a better King than me. I’m heading back home to help him get through the social season. He is in New York now. I know nothing happens in the first week but im still hanging low. Plus I don’t want to deal with Dad’s bullshit. Throwing Katie in my face or calling me a fuck up. Fuck Madeline. She is a boring lay. I’m over her and her vanilla sex. I guess it’s that permanent stick up her ass.

God, I hope he gets laid… like ALOT. He doesn’t really talk about his sex life. It seems like he is struggling to connect with someone. Is it that he is shy?  Is he evening having it? I mean the girls back home… yawn. But  Liam always follows the fucken rules every goddamn time. Well, he’s in this mess because of me, so I have to fix it somehow. Maybe I can help? He has been playing it safe. Dad has been trying to arrange marriages for him and he dated here and there with the hope he could at least marry someone he knows. But having a social season is so fucken different. It’s a few months and the council has to approve the marriage, but at least he would get to know the girl, so that’s a plus.

Maybe she will be exciting and fun. Maybe we can be really good friends. Some of the girls from my season are coming back … clearly, they didn’t love me, they just loved the crown. I hope my little brother meets someone who doesn’t give a fuck about the crown and just wants to be with him. The struggle for me has always been to be seen as just a man. I know Liam has felt the same. I used to get so annoyed with him – it was like he was trying to outdo me. But now I see all he was trying to do was step out of my shadow and not be called Leo’s brother… he wanted to be known as Liam.

I gave him a shit deal and it looks like I’m running away from my responsibility. In a way, I guess I am.  I was born to be king.  Liam wasn’t, but Liam is a fucken natural and he would do a much better job at leading a country.  It’s just when it comes to women, he is fucken lost. Like geezus you only live once fuck… and fuck alot.

Gonna probably get off this stupid cruise anyway too many fucken rules.

—

Drake

So I think it’s complete bullshit that Liam has to do social season. Can’t the guy catch a mother fucken break? He thought he loved that basic bitch Isabella Castille, but she fucken turns around and marries limp dick, Bradshaw! What the fuck, Bella? Bradshaw probably uses a dick pump. I didn’t think it would work anyway; she wouldn’t go down on Liam. What the fuck!? When I heard that I was like, “Damn, Liam.” He said sex wasn’t like intense and it was basic. How could you live like that? You should want to bend your girl over a pool table and give it to her anytime, any place.  Leo and Liam are like night and day.

Anyway, her excuse was that Bradshaw was a Crown Prince and her parents wanted a more favorable match. Well, you’re a crown chaser. Guess what, Dummy? Liam is going to be a King. How do you like them fucken Cordonian Ruby Apples?!  What does Auvernal have? Fucken tangerines. Get the fuck out here! I was pissed off for Liam. I mean he was upset, but he looked at me and said ‘I want to experience love. It almost sounds foolish to long for something that should be natural, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me.’ That’s fucken sad, man. I remember my parent’s marriage and that was fucken love. He was always happy to see my mom. Everyone should experience that, which is why I won’t marry anyone who doesn’t make me smile when I hear their name.

When Liam was announced as the successor, he looked miserable. I thought he was pissed at Leo but he said, ‘I don’t even get to have much of a say in who I marry. It just people they invite. Well, I just hope for kindness.’ I have to look out for my brother because the vultures are circling. Everyone wants to be Liam’s friend now. Tariq all of sudden wants to hang out with us again. Not buying it …  he probably wants something from him. Liam is excited to have him around since they drifted apart. But, fuck that guy.  All he talks about is his fucken clown shoes. I don’t trust him at all.  He said he wanted to reconnect, but his timing is pretty interesting.

My mission tonight is to give Liam a good time. Maxwell was all excited about seeing New York and jammed packed our schedule with Broadway shows and shit. We got to do a lot of shit but tonight is our last night. So Liam needs to have a good time before he has to deal with Connie’s bullshit. All I know is I’m gonna give whoever gets close to Liam during the social season a hard ass time. I’m gonna be a complete dick because I don’t want a Bella #2 here. Apparently, it’s a bigger pool: a few suitors from Leo’s season (automatically disqualified in my eyes), a few girls of noble birth, some from what they call ‘lowly’ houses (again more nobility bullshit), and then you have those girls whose betrothal fell through (big question mark there). Did you really like the guy or did you pull a Bella and fall on your face?

She thinks she has to prove herself to Liam. No sweetheart, you’re gonna have to prove yourself to me first. Liam has to marry someone who makes him smile when he hears her name.

If this girl is fucken sincere, then she will stick around. Bonus points if she tells me to go fuck myself and puts me in my place.  Then I’ll know that she really wants to be with him. I hope maybe she is cool enough to be one of the guys. That shit won’t happen, but it would be nice. That way it won’t fuck with our friendship, because once he’s king he won’t have time for me.  He tells me nothing will change. I want to believe him.

Anyway, signing off because Maxwell is singing Taylor Swift and I can’t concentrate.

—

Jessica

SO as you know last month was my birthday and I waited a whole fucken month to see the Yankees vs. Boston Red Sox game. I caught a foul tip – hopefully a sign of a good fucken season…and year. Still working on meeting someone special and having a great adventure. I got my passport in the mail so I can finally start going places.

I wonder where I’ll go first. I wanted to go on a cruise with Daisy, but Mateo was being a dick. We talked about Greece. Trip advisor said it was a good place to go. Like, the men of our dreams could have been on that boat, but NOOOO you can’t go on a cruise. I got shut the fuck down. What would happen if I just took off on my own?  I’m not a kid. Next time, I’m not gonna ask, I’m just gonna go. I want to meet someone special. Clearly, I’m not meeting a man in New York. Well, I could leave the house more and try to look decent. BUT I want someone who will take me as I am. It would be nice to meet someone worth my time.

I want to call out of work today. Instead, I agreed to an extra shift. Hey! Working an extra shift only adds to my savings for that dream vacation I want to take as soon as I figure out where I want to go. Daisy says ‘always be ready because you never know who you are going to meet.’ I think tonight I’ll put some effort into my appearance as a little pick me up. Why go home smelling like hamburger and wearing boxy pants when you can look hot and meet a guy on the R train? Feeling like wearing that green dress tonight… still has the tags.

Also note to self: be extra kind so the universe pays you back.

—

Maxwell

“Today I saw the lion king on Broadway AMAZING!  Liam and I sang the whole score. If you ask Drake, he would say he wasn’t into it, but that’s a lie! I heard him sing ‘Hakuna Matata’ in the shower!

We lost Liam for a little while today. So, I’m just typing away on my phone so I can remember this awesome (note to Max: insert fist pump here ) trip. We took some pics and I’m going to scrapbook it all. ‘A Royal Vacation: A Story by Maxwell Beaumont…’ I’ve got to play around with that title some more.

Liam seemed a little shaken when Mustafa talked to Simba about the responsibility.  Then there was the assassination, so I kind of held my breath there for a second. I was a little nervous about the Nala situation too, considering the circumstances.

He wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. He said he wanted to clear his head. It’s been two hours since we last saw him. I gave him directions. I stepped out to see if he was near and got back just in time to meet our waitress. Her name is Jessie. She wrote it on a napkin. She said she was sorry they ran out of real napkins. It’s cool though because they have little blossoms all around them and they say ‘Dixie.’ I’m gonna save it for the scrapbook.

—

Liam

Finally, I get to settle down and write something! I’m on the plane back home. Maxwell and Drake stayed behind. Maxwell said he wanted an NBC Peacock mug. I’m surprised Drake went with him to get it. I will send the Jet back for them. My last night in New York was AMAZING. I spent a lot of time with Maxwell in our pillow fort talking about it once I got back to the hotel. I got lost on my way to the Statue of Liberty. I wanted to see it because it was a symbol of freedom, something that I can never have – at least not really. I got so distracted by the crowd that by the time I got there, they had stopped all the rides. I was upset but at least I got to see it from a distance. Maxwell gave me directions to our dinner spot. I got so lost again. I blame a combination of Google maps (it just kept recalculating ) and his bad directions.

BUT when I finally arrived, our waitress – God our waitress … her name was Jessica, but she calls herself Jessie. Drake was ridiculously rude to her and Maxwell was rather needy. I blamed Drake for the broken bottle of ketchup. I was to embarrassed too accept responsibility for it. She had to clean it up really didn’t mind the view so lets just say I dropped stuff…a lot and continued to blame them. I loved how she actually made my burger specifically. Jessie said she over heard me saying I never had one and wanted it to be better than what they guys were having. Honestly, it was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten I like to think it was all the care she put into it. Drake said that I could play the hero and ask her out for a drink or maybe more. I really wanted to, but I was nervous. I didn’t want to push the envelope. Still, I finally managed the courage to ask her out. She had thought that I wasn’t interested. I was interested! OH was I very interested from the first moment I saw her. There was a spark the minute our eyes met. I can’t describe the feeling.

She took us to a quiet, little beach. I told her who I was and the reason for our trip. She wasn’t scared or turned off by it and she just kept calling me ‘Liam’. She treated me like a regular guy! The way she looked at me… It was like she saw me.  She looked at me the way any man would want to be looked at by a woman.

I told her what I wish I could have seen the Statue of Liberty and she just started making calls. I could hear her negotiate with people and call in favors. Long story short, I got to see the Statue of Liberty with her after all!  Can you believe that? I have never felt so free as I did at that moment. We talked on the boat for hours. I told her she was gorgeous and she looked at me as if she had never been told that before in her entire life.

I made an excuse to hold her. I can still smell her on my sweater. She smells like Vanilla (which as you know I love) and lavender. I called her Jess and she didn’t mind. I like the intimacy of that. I will hold on to my memory of her ‘My Jess’ I wanted to kiss her so badly BUT she kissed me first! Her lips were so soft and the way she moved her tongue in my mouth – it’s like she knew me and how I like to be kissed. Like maybe I had spent a previous life with her or something. Is that what they call a soul mate?  She is such a great kisser; we spent the whole night kissing.

I’m still thinking about those soft lips. I just wanted to stay in that moment forever. I think the part that hurt the most, apart from leaving her tonight and knowing I will never see her again, is her wish.  A few weeks ago, it was her birthday and she asked for two things: to meet someone special and to have a great adventure. She said our date counts as an adventure and that I was special. She said that she regretted not adding in something about them not having to get married so we could see where this might go. God, how I wish we could. She told me she wished that I would find someone special to marry.  She thinks that the person I choose will be lucky to have me. As she spoke, I couldn’t help but think that she is that person. I fell in love with her the second I met her. I would choose her in a heartbeat if I could. I wish I could marry Jess.

I guess that’s it for me and my first REAL experience at love. Drake says you know it’s love when every time you hear their name it makes you smile. I guess I will keep repeating ‘Jess’ whenever I need a smile. I’ll make a wish for My Jess, that she finds a man that will love her and cherish her all the days of her life – the way I know I would if the circumstances permitted.  Everyone deserves their one true love. For me, it is Jessica Garcia and I left her in New York.

Jess, I wish you a lifetime full of happiness and love.  I hope that maybe once in a while you’ll think fondly of me. I know I will be thinking of you…Love.