#i love talking about black dragon founders ask me more about black dragon founders it makes me feel alive and worthy too to be asked about

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Hey!! So these days I’ve remembered a joke that was quite popular in the fandom about Shinichiro not being able to get a girl because Wakasa was always with him and they would choose Waka over Shin. I just wonder how much of this could be true, since we don’t have any info of Wakasa interest in this topic or if he know he is good-looking and uses it to his favor.

Idk it is nice to hear your thoughts about it.

Hi there!!

First of all, I love the idea that Shinichiro got rejected so many time because of a bunch of different reasons, one being that his flirting skills are so bad his awkwardness somehow surpasses his good looks (I'll argue that in-canon he was meant to embody any average Japanese man with no specific physical trait (despite having a mixed-race dad) but like, scratch that, Shinichiro is handsome. Perhaps not in an outstanding, eye-catching way, but he is very good looking.) and leads to girls basically running away because he's being overly head over heels for a first meeting, is being a tiny bit too hopelessly romantic than it's acceptable (and sounds desperate sometimes) or starts talking about bikes because he saw an opportunity to and he lovesss talking about them (and the only other conversation topic that comes easily to him is his siblings) so it can go on for hours - so they leave. Shame on them.

(Another reason is because he goes up to girls he saw from afar before confessing his love and they reject him because.. they don't know him - at most they know his face but he barely if ever spoke with them. He's a loser, I love him)

Secondly: Wakasa's part in all of this.

We already know Wakasa loves to mess with people, to troll them (it's in the guide book), and we also know that Wakasa - alongside Benkei - made fun of Shinichiro rather often (teen Wakasa and teen Benkei's sole two lines are really just this lol (chapter 230 and 269)). I'd find it hard to believe for Wakasa to not be aware of his attractiveness. I don't see him looking for a relationship, but he must know the impact he has on others - even only objectively speaking.

So honestly? I think he'd do it, yeah, just to laugh at Shinichiro (playfully of course, he has no ill intent). It also helps to sort girls who'd go to other (more attractive or not) men given the chance. Shinichiro would do bad with casual relationships, he wants to give all of his heart to the person he loves, he doesn't want one that can end. Wakasa rather have Shinichiro cry because 'it's unfair!! a girl was finally interested in me, why did you have to steal her heart?!!' than get his heart broken because he thought they had something only for her to leave once she found someone else.

(Alternatively, Shinichiro simply whining that if Wakasa wasn't there, he'd have a girlfriend by now because they wouldn't just all focus on Wakasa - whether he did anything for them to focus on him or not)

It robs Shinichiro from possible relationships, but it's more of a test from Wakasa than a mean joke. Because Shinichiro is his dear friend and he deserves the best. He gets hurt easily, and one of Wakasa's job - as a friend and as one of Black Dragon member - is to protect him to the best of his capacities. Physical and emotional wounds both

Also it's funny to see Shinichiro's reactions to it.

And it's not like he does something everytime - people look at him more than they look at Shinichiro whether he intends for it or not! He's not stopping it, though

I may have gotten too serious about a fandom joke, oopsies

[drivergemini]

i got a goth gf (and she’s hotter than hell) :: e.m.

summary: eddie munson is head over heels for the new girl. how could he not be when she was even more metal than him?

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, swears, goth kid bullying, non supernatural au

word count: 736

-

eddie munson was a man of many many words. he would ramble on and on about how much he loved dungeons and dragons and how much he hated hawkins. he would never shut up.

that is until a figure strutted through the hawkins high school cafeteria. dressed in a skirt that was pulled up a little too high and a leather jacket over her black tank top. and her boots. jesus christ those black leather boots. they were higher than her kneecaps with an at least 5 inch heel. 

hellfire had never seen this man so quiet. his mouth just hung open in absolute awe as his eyes followed her heavily teased black hair.

“hellooooooo,” dustin snapped his fingers in front of eddie’s face. “earth to dipshit. hellooooooo?” eddie snapped out of his trance and looked at the younger boy. “eddie you look like a creep starring at that girl.”

“girl? what girl?” mike said turning his head looking for the source of eddie’s silence. he sees the girl sporting heavily black eyeliner and turns around with wide eyes. “wow eddie you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

he snapped his head towards the freshman boy. “shut up wheeler. what do you know about girls. that right there is an angel from heaven.”

“more like a demon from hell,” mike muttered under his breath. 

over the course of a week, she became eddie’s new fixation. he would scramble to lunch to spill the new information he found everyday.

“her name is y/n and she’s a transfer from connecticut.”

“she’s was in an all girl punk band called overgrown graveyard.”

“her parents own starcourt industries.”

this caught the lunch table’s attention. eddie raised an eyebrow and leaned back on his chair. each boy just looked at him with blank expressions. 

dustin was the first to speak. “no way in hell you’re going to get a girl like that. no matter how much it looks like KISS threw up on her.”

“oh yeah? watch me henderson.”

- 

it took another week for eddie to be able to find a perfect opportunity to talk to y/n. but when it came, it was perfect. 

he honestly thought he was hallucinating. he roamed through the halls of hawkins high before his hellfire meeting started. he could hear a familiar notes coming out of an electric guitar. he listened hard and followed the sound like a bloodhound. 

when he reached the band room, he could hear it much clearer. he peeked in through the classroom door window and saw y/n sitting on an amp playing twisted sister. he could hear her soft humming of ‘we’re not gonna take it’ between every riff break. 

this was his moment. this was his time. he knocked softy on the wooden door. her head shot up with a confused expression on her face. eddie saw this as a sign to open the door. “twisted sister right?” he scratched the back of his head.

“eddie munson right?” y/n shoots blankly back. he could see very clearly that she has two nose rings on each side and an eyebrow piercing on her left.

“uh yeah. you’re y/n. how did you- do you know who i am?” this was not how he imagined this going. 

“eddie munson. 20 year old senior. hellfire clubs founder. and hawkins high school’s outcast freak.” she paused for a moment. “oh and a certified stalker.”

eddie’s breathe caught in his throat. shit he was busted.

her straight face turned into a wide grin. she bursted with laughter at the sight of his eyes go wide. “i was joking! loosen up a little buddy.” 

he let out a huge sigh. “so you know i’ve been watching you?” hearing those words come out of his mouth made him realize that maybe he was a bit of a creep. 

“yes and if you were a slightly better stalker, you’d know i’ve been asking about you too.” her face was so calm and collected, eddie’s was hot and flushed. he felt like a warm tomato. 

he looked at the watch on his wrist. “oh shoot i have to go to my hellfire meeting. do you want to maybe- i don’t know- hang out tonight?” 

“sure let me give you my address. come over anytime.” y/n pulled out a notebook and ripped out a page. she scribbled down her address and eddie gentely grabbed it from her hands. as he ran towards the drama room, he looked down at the paper. after her address was a tiny little scribble of a heart.

-

he has never wanted to leave a meeting more than he did that day. he sprinted to his van, double checking to see if he still had the piece of paper in his pocket. 

as he approached your front door, he started to pause. maybe he should’ve bought you flowers or maybe took you out to dinner. too late now he was already involuntarily knocking. he waited about 30 seconds before the front door swung open. “hi i’m looking for y/n?” the girl in front of him furrowed her eyebrows. eddie studdied her face for a few seconds. “oh shit y/n.” 

“i don’t know whether to be offended or not,” she laughed a little and gestured him inside. “you caught me as i was cleaning my face so i don’t blame you.” he noticed the smudged out left over mascara under her eyes and the lack of face piercings. “wait here in the living room and i’ll be right back.”

eddie looked around her living room in amazement. it was themed all white and had a crystal chandelier overhead illuminating the room. 

“how long have you been starring at the ceiling for?” eddie turns his head and sees y/n standing at the bottom of the stairs. her face completely bare but her piercings back in. all eddie could focus on was her aerosmith shirt. 

“your house is massive.” y/n plopped herself down on the couch and motioned eddie to sit with her. he tried his best to not sit too close to her.

“so i heard you’re also in a band?” eddie’s ears perked up slightly. “i was too back in connecticut. i played electric guitar.”

“so do i! my band is called corroded coffin. you should come to one of our shows sometime.” eddie could feel his body untense, this was nice. “i heard you play a little earlier, you’re pretty amazing.”

she shot up and made a motion indicating him to wait. she got up and picked up a beautiful, all black electric guitar from the corner. she plugged it into an amp and turned it on. “could you play for me? it’s only fair because you heard me play earlier.”

eddie’s eyes grow wide, which is something that he did often now. “i- i mean i guess why not?” he grabbed the guitar that he was handed. a little smaller than he was used to but not an issue. as he started playing he felt the beautiful vibration of the strings under his fingers. he looked up and abruptly stopped. y/n sat starring at him with her mouth hung open. 

“why did you stop?” she questioned with a confused look on her face.

“you’re just so...” was he going for is? this was really now or never. he was leaning towards never. “beautiful.” oh wow i guess he chose now. y/n could feel her face start to get warm. 

“i think you’re beautiful eddie munson.” y/n let out a laugh to relieve the tension.

“let me take you on a date. a real date. i know this great 24 hour diner, we can go now if you’d be down.” he was feeling very bold tonight.

their night ended up in a diner sharing the same side of the booth. sharing a milkshake. and maybe sharing a couple of kisses but that’s for them to tell.

-

eddie was the first at lunch the next day. he waited for the rest of the group to trickle in as he sat with his feet propped up. 

“you look like you have something to say?” lucas questioned looking around at his peers. the rest of the boys nodded their heads in agreement.

“well gentlemen.” eddie stood up and raised his hands in the air before slamming them down. “i got a goth girlfriend. and she’s hotter than hell.”

[cottonkendi]

Your Babies | 22

MASTERLIST

Sano Shinichiro x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Genre: Idiots to Lovers, Fluff, Crack

Warning: Spoiler warnings

Synopsis: Don’t do it ft. Threats

Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23

a/n: an hour early~ yay~~

After what seems to be the most awkward dinner you’ve ever had with the Sano family - you still can’t believe you've been working for Shinichiro’s grandfather for more than a month now -, your cousin and the rest of the Black Dragon founders - Keisuke, unfortunately, had to go home with his mother and did not get the chance to interrogate Shinichiro with the rest of the boys - the two of you finally had some alone time to which he had officially asked you out on a date.

“Since tomorrow’s a Saturday, do you wanna... go on a date? With me? I promise you’ll enjoy it.” Shinichiro asks, his hand running through his hair while he tries his best to make eye contact only for his face to explode in different shades of red everytime your eyes meet.

It’s adorable.

After all the chaos that happened in only a few hours, being with Shinichiro, all alone by their garden, feels really soothing. A bubbly feeling grows in your chest as you continue to watch Shinichiro under the moonlight. His skin glistening under the silver light which only makes him look even more handsome. It also makes his dark eyes stand out more, showcasing just how lovely it is.

With only the moonlight illuminating the garden, you don’t notice certain people watching from the door of the house, ears stretched as far as possible in order to hear what the two of you are talking about.

“Of course, I’ll be glad to go on a date with you, Shinichiro.” You confess, eyes unconsciously closing with how wide your grin has become, not at all realizing how the wind had picked up which makes you unintentionally shiver. You’re just too preoccupied with the look of happiness on Shinichiro's face when you answer him. Enjoying the way his eyes sparkle even more, if that was even possible, as he jumps in front of you.

A giggle escapes you when he almost trips on his own feet, arms flailing around as he balances himself. Laughing along at his own mistake, he finally starts to calm down beside you, arm brushing against yours as he looks down on you. “I’m really happy that you’re giving me a chance, Y/N. I promise. I promise that I won’t make you regret ever giving me this chance.”

“You’re making me regret giving you this chance with how much you bring it up, Shinichiro.” You were only teasing him but the way his eyes widened so fast, head whipping to the side in order to look you straight in the eyes as he sputtered out apologies makes you laugh out loud.

“I’m joking! Shinichiro, chill out! I was just teasing.”

After making sure that you were just joking, a big sigh of relief leaves his lips, body sagging a little as he gives you a side-eye. “Don’t play with me too much... please... I don’t think I can handle it if it’s coming from you.”

Suppressing a smile, you bring your hand to his face, freezing fingers pinching his heated cheek as you mutter an apology though you’re cut off when Shinichiro lightly takes a hold of your wrist, thumb caressing the back of your hand before he puts it back to your side as he faces you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize sooner.”

Before you can answer, Shinichiro’s jacket gets draped over your shoulders, his hands securing the heavy jacket around your figure as he offers you a small smile.

“Oh no, it’s okay, Shinichiro. I’m about to go home anyways, no need for your jacket-”

“No, I’m sorry for not realizing my feelings sooner. It would’ve saved us so much more time if I had known. We wouldn’t have had to skirt around each other for so long.” Hesitantly, Shinichiro takes your hands in his and brings it up to his face as he lightly starts blowing on them, warming up your freezing fingers as the wind becomes stronger.

Offering him a smile, you lightly shake your head. “It’s not your fault, Shinichiro. It’s better late than never, right?”

“I suppose-”

Before he can answer you, the two of you are immediately separated by your families. With Wakasa wrapping you up in his arms and pushing you towards the opposite direction, successfully separating you from Shinichiro who is also being held off by a stern looking Manjiro who’s tightly gripping onto Shinichiro’s wrists.

“It’s getting late, we should head home-”

“But I was still talking to Shini-”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N! I’ll make sure to bring Baji with us!” Manjiro yells out just as Wakasa pushes you out through the gate.

You can’t help but continue to struggle, arms being restrained by your cousin as he nods at Manjiro and the other Black Dragon members who can only watch silently at the two struggling teens, trying their best to get to each other once more. “I’ll text you! Don’t worry!” You hear Shinichiro desperately yell out before being muffled by Manjiro’s hands.

“Wakasa, let go of me, seriously! You’re being such a-”

“It’s late, princess. You still have a date tomorrow-”

Your eyes widen at that before it quickly squints in suspicion. “You are definitely not going with me to my date with Shinichiro.” You sternly tell him as he places you on his motorcycle, lazily handing you a helmet as you fix Shinichiro’s jacket around you.

Giving you a look, Wakasa lets out a shrug. “It’s not like you’ll know I’m there. I’m going to hide with Manjiro somewhere you won’t kno-”

“That’s not what I mean! Wakasa! You’re not allowed to spy on me and Shini-”

“Hold on tight.”

“Wakasa, no-” With that, your cousin speeds his way to your house giving you no time to properly shout your objection to whatever his plan is for tomorrow.

Huffing, you merely roll your eyes as Wakasa checks your windows, making sure that they’re locked before he finally nods in satisfaction. “Alright then, give me Shinichiro’s jacket. I’ll bring it back to him.”

Scrunching up your brows, you vigorously shake your head, hands gripping onto the jacket with the Black Dragon name on it, holding for dear life as Wakasa tries to rip it away from you.

After a few more seconds of you not budging, your cousin lets out a sigh, lazy eyes boring straight into you in exasperation. “Give me the jacket, Y/N. I’ll bring it back to him-”

“No, I can give it to him myself so just go home and stay home until my date with Shinichiro finishes, okay?” You don’t know why you even bother to ask since you know that he will never listen.

Much like you thought, Wakasa shakes his head at you. “No can do. Just give me the jacket and then I’ll be on my way-”

You cut your cousin off by starting to push him out of the house.

It takes quite some strength from you and a lot of objections from Wakasa but you finally manage to have him standing by the front door even as he tries to stop you. “You need to go home. And.” Handing him his bike keys, you lightly close the door, ready to slam it close the moment he tries to take the jacket from you. “You need to make other plans for tomorrow ‘cause you are not spying on us. Also!” Wakasa almost jumps as you aggressively point at his chest, eyes squinting into a glare. “You will not be giving Shinichiro the talk. I swear Wakasa. If I see a bruise on him tomorrow, I’ll kill you.”

Raising his hands in defeat, Wakasa merely nods at your words. “I hope you’re listening to what I’m telling you, Waka. No bruises. And don’t try to take Shinichiro’s jacket from me. I’ll return it myself.”

Rolling his eyes, he nods one last time, arms raising in order to hug you. “Yeah yeah, you just want to hug it tonight and smell it. Creepy little shit.” You lightly pinch his side as you hug him, not impressed with him insulting you. “It won’t smell good, I’ll tell you that. Shinichiro smokes a lot of cigarettes. You should probably just text him that you don’t want to go on a date with him anymor-”

“Just go home, Waka.”

“Fine, fine. G’night. I’ll head home now, remember to lock your doors, yeah?”

Nodding, you finally let out a sigh of relief when your cousin makes his way to his bike, giving you one last wave before he drives off.

Shaking your head at the fight that he put up, you lock the door shut and head to your room, getting your clothes ready for the night before heading to the bathroom in order to clean yourself before heading to bed.

You’re about to enter the shower when your phone goes off. Immediately, you check the notification, heart pounding when you see that it’s from Shinichiro.

From: Sano Shinichiro

Hey, i’m sorry about earlier. Quite a mess

But im glad you agreed with the date!!1!!

Would you be fine if i pick you up at 9am? I have some plans for tomorrow <33

A smile makes its way to your lips, mind already running with hundreds of different scenarios that could happen as you type in a quick reply.

To: Sano Shinichiro

Its fine dont worry about it :)) and yeah, im good with 9am <3

Putting your phone down, you excitedly go to the shower, already thinking of the many outfits that you should try later for tomorrow’s date.

Unknown to you, your cousin has not gone home.

Instead, Wakasa had made his way back to the Sano household, hands itching to do something that you told him not to do.

Entering through the wooden gates, he’s thankful that Shinichiro’s still outside by the garden, a glimmering grin plastered on his face as he stares down at his phone though he’s quick to look up when he hears Wakasa’s footsteps.

“Wakasa? What’re you doing here? Did you drive Y/N home already?” By now, Shinichiro has stood up from his seat on the patio, a smile thrown at his friend though that quickly gets erased the moment Wakasa raises his leg and gives him a quick kick to the stomach.

Falling to the ground, Shinichiro can’t help but gasp, hands clutching his throbbing abdomen while he tries his best to look up at Wakasa from his kneeling position, the white haired male glares down at him. “Shinichiro. I don’t know if you knew this beforehand but Y/N’s my cousin and I’m not quite fond of boys courting her.”

By now, the commotion has brought Benkei and Takeomi - the two opting to stay a little longer at the Sano house since they wanted to know more about the situation between you and him - out to the garden, the two gaping at the sight of their leader kneeling before their friend who looks ready to throw a punch. “I especially don’t like playboys like you courting her.”

“Wakasa, I swear I’m not-”

“Let me talk or else I might just have to make you shut up, Sano.”

Takeomi makes his way to the two, afraid of what Wakasa might do with the kneeling Shinichiro while Benkei silently follows along. “Wakasa, I think you should calm down-” Takeomi tries to take a hold of the white haired man’s clenched hand only to receive a slap on the face.

“Stay away from this, Takeomi. This doesn’t concern you.” Shivers run down the three males’ spines at the serious look on Wakasa’s face, no hint of a smile or a cocky smirk on his face unlike when they first fought.

He seems more serious now.

“Y/N’s the closest family I have. The only cousin I actually talk to, I treat her as my sister that’s why I’m protective over her which is why I’m telling you this now. If you ever make her cry, or treat her wrong in any way possible, you’ll be receiving worse than that kick, you hear me? I don’t give a damn about Black Dragon or whatever else. If you do anything to her, I will make you regret it.” Taking a hold of Shinichiro’s hair, Wakasa forces him to look him straight in the face which elicits a pained groan from their leader when Wakasa delivers a swift punch to the stomach where he was just kicked.

“You better be glad that she told me to not leave you any bruises or else I would’ve had a field day with you. Y/N better not hear a word about this, got that?” Letting out a chuckle, Wakasa finally lets go of his groaning leader, his eyes now turned to Takeomi and Benkei who look quite tense at seeing their friend turn back to the feared White Leopard that they once fought against back in the day.

Raising a brow at the two who are still stiffly standing in front of him, Wakasa nods his head towards the house. “I think the two of you should take care of little Manjiro over there, I don’t think his big brother can stand up right now.”

At that, the two remaining Black Dragon members whip their heads towards the house where they see the tiny blond staring right at his fallen brother before turning to a retreating Wakasa, his dark eyes wide and sparkling while his mouth turns into a small ‘o’.

“That was so cool... “ Manjiro manages to breathe out, impressed at Wakasa’s cool moves and cool speech.

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[sukunasbabymama]

Fix it.

└ Pairing. Arashi Keizou.

└ Summary. This is just me writing about the tropes for a black dragon founder. Or, We started as friends with benefits but I fell in love first and now I don’t know how to act because I was the one telling them that no ‘feelings attachment’ with Arashi Keizou.

└ Word Count. 2.8K

└ Warnings. Cursing, excessive fluff as a warning? Yeah why not. It’s fem!reader as usual with my original ideas.

└ Note. I really like Benkei so he’s now part of my marriage with Terano, Draken, Mucho and Kakucho. Also, I had this idea and saw that it matched the tropes headcanons so that’s why it has that description.

“When are you going to get together? I’m tired of this and it’s not my relationship.” Wakasa murmurs while holding the punching bag for you to do your set.

“Now, what relationship are you talking about? You know more than anybody we are not together.” You roll your eyes with a small smile and he scoffs.

“I know more than anybody that y’all are basically married— Don’t look at me like that, y’all been fucking each other’s brain for five or six years now?”

“Seven.”

“Seven fucking years!! Are you out of your damn mind?! Not even all my relationships combined are worth 7 years of my life.” You laugh and shrug.

“Why do you want us to be together so bad?” You ask with a sad smile.

“Everybody wants you two to be together, queen,” He groans as if that’s the most obvious thing ever. “Shinichiro used to make bets with me on when do y’all would announce that y’all were going to move in together, you and him are basically Senju parents figure, not her damn brother. Y/N, y’all are a damn match made in heaven.”

“You damn—,” You walk to him but are interrupted by a deep voice.

“Didn’t know you were that romantic, white leopard.” Benkei says, entering the gym and walking to you. As if he wants to prove a point, he leans and catches your lower lip between his teeth before going for a tongue kiss, you don’t let him get too excited since that’s disrespectful in front of Wakasa.

“Stop, big man.” You roll your eyes.

“See? It’s not like y’all hide what y’all have, so y’all should just make it official.” Wakasa rolls his eyes, getting in position again so you can start your set on the punching bag. “It would save the others a lot of explanations.”

“Nah man, we’re okay. I don’t want a relationship anyways; can’t bring myself to want one and have a girl nagging at me at all times.” Benkei shrugs with humor, remembering that’s Wakasa’s current situation with his partner.

You stop walking and smile sadly at Wakasa and he, always so intuitive, just nods at you.

“I gotta go guys,” You say and Benkei looks at you with a frown.

“You haven’t finished all your sets, are you not gonna train with me?” He asks seriously and you shake your head. “Why?”

“Some Brahman stuff that I need—,”

“Don’t lie.” He tilts his head and you sigh, knowing he is annoyed, he hates with passion when you try to lie to him, emphasis on “try”. That’s what both of you get for messing around with each other for so long, knowing every single little thing about the other. “What’s wrong?”

“Your comment made me uncomfortable and it shouldn’t have. I want to go home.” You tell him bluntly and he chuckles in disbelief.

He walks to you with a dangerous aura, putting his hands on his hips and Wakasa actually stands straight looking between both of you. Nobody has ever seen y’all argue because aside from Benkei kissing you like his life depends on it, the majority of y’all business is kept private.

“You got offended because I said I don’t want a relationship? But you know that.” Benkei says with a frown.

“I know that, I have known that for quite some time. That doesn’t mean I have to stay still while you barge in here and give me a kiss that’s saved for the bedroom and then have the audacity to say with the most cocky tone that you’re not built for relationships.” You tell him in a calm tone.

“So, I can’t kiss you now?” He takes another step to you and you roll your eyes because that’s not even the damn point.

“I’m not about to do this with you playing dumb. Waka, help me here please.” You let Wakasa take off the gloves from you and just when you turn around you bump into Benkei’s chest. “Keizou, move.”

“No.”

“I said, move, Keizo Arashi.” You said deadpan.

He looks at you for a moment before stepping to the side and that’s the last time he sees you in three weeks. No calls or texts, but it’s not like y’all used to do that, your dynamics was based on him dropping at your apartment at whatever time he feels like it or vice versa. For obvious reasons he doesn’t think it would do any good with how mad you’re at him.

“I literally don’t understand.” Wakasa says to him on the 21st day, exactly three weeks since that little scene in Wakasa’s gym. “How are you not built for a relationship when y’all literally have something that can be mistaken as a marriage.”

“Waka…” Benkei sighs. He already feels like shit.

“It’s just… I’ve seen her looking for excuses to tell people when they ask about her relationship status because as much as y’all like to say y’all are single y’all don’t keep it on the low.” Benkei looks at him with a frown and he rolls his eyes. “Yes, you’re very secretive when it comes to her personal life and her well-being, so much so that it was the first time I saw y’all fight and not bicker, but that is nothing when y’all kiss and act like a couple in public.”

“I know.” Benkei murmurs and Waka raises his head from where he was sprawled on the couch. “I didn’t think it was that serious at first, since when we are alone we tend to joke about how tedious some relationships can be but that hurt her. I should’ve read the room.”

“You really think you can’t be in a relationship with her?”

“I can be in whatever she wants me to be with her, I love her, I know that much but, what if I mess things up after going serious? She’s my fucking life Waka.” He sighs and lets his head fall back on the chair. “I thought we were okay because that’s all we knew for a long time. Guess I was wrong.”

“Better tell her that before it’s too late, I don’t know.” Wakasa shrugs.

Later that day he sees you in B1 and he swears you’re doing it on purpose. You have the exact outfit that you know makes him go feral, a red lipstick on that just sends his mind on a trail of past memories of you smearing his chest in the color. I can’t do this today, he thinks.

He walks, alongside Wakasa and Takeomi, to the end of the stairs where you’re waiting, your eyes trained on the latter.

“‘Sup boss.” Takeomi says with a smile and you roll your eyes while simultaneously leaning to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re literally the number two and the brother of the boss, stop it.” You chuckle and he laughs with you.

“You have the power of taking decisions while I just give advice, love.” You roll your eyes and kiss Wakasa’s cheeks too.

“You haven’t gone to the gym in three weeks, do you want me to beat your ass?” He says and you laugh.

“Was fixing some things here in B1 and with the rich dogs, my bad Waka.” You tell him and he hums.

Benkei is watching your every move like a predator, daring you to not greet him the same way you did with his friends but as usual, you always surprise him. You walk to him with elegance and patiently wait for him to lean to your level, you give him a kiss a little harder than what you gave the others, leaving the mark of your lips on his cheek.

“Hello, Benkei.” You say with a professional smile and he looks at you with a frown.

“Benkei? You’ve never called me that.” He tells you, offended.

“I just did, I believe.” You say, while already turning around and walking to the center of the ring, swaying your hips like the goddess everybody knows you are.

He stands there perplexed for a couple of seconds before walking to his usual position on days in which you are the referee of the night, in the sideways of the ring so he can watch your back.

He watches you talk to the crowd with charisma, making jokes and representing the gang like you’ve been doing since the first generation of the Black Dragons were active, scratch that, since his gang, Ragnarok, was active and you were his vice-president.

When your turn is over you walk and without thinking he offers you his hand to help you get off the ring and just when he is about to ask you if he can talk to you he is interrupted by one of the old rich men that actually shows up to the fights.

“There you are! I was waiting for you in the seat, you told me you were gonna go back to keep talking to me.” The man tells you, getting a little too close for your and Benkei’s liking.

“Ah— yeah… As you saw, they needed me to be the referee of the night.” You tell him with a fake smile and that’s all Benkei needs to know that the man was a creep and you were trying to get away from him.

“Oh, so now you can come with me, right? I can give you a ride ho—,”

“She’s not going anywhere with you, sir.” Benkei says, sneaking a step so you could be behind him. You, knowing him like the palm of your hand, instantly grab the back of his shirt in a reassuring way.

“W-what do you mean? She was literally talking with me, mind your business.” The man rolls his eyes and Benkei sighs.

“She. Is. My. Business” He bluntly says, taking a step towards the man with each word, he gets all in the man’s face confidently.

“She should be the one deci—,”

“I am. I am his business, have a good rest of the night.” You say after rolling your eyes, already walking past the man while simultaneously dragging Benkei with you by his hand. And of course, your man follows you.

And just when the old man is about to say another thing, Benkei thinks “fuck it” and just throws you over his shoulder and look down at the man for a second before starting to walk again, directly to the little operative office. You don’t say anything about being held like a sack of potatoes because this is not the first time and you’re already winning with the fact that he didn’t knock out a potential gambler for the next fights.

When he puts you on the floor you try to walk around him but he just leans on the door, making it impossible to get out.

“Benkei, you—,”

“Don’t leave me.” You look at him with surprise but he is looking at his feet with a frown. “Please.”

“Listen—,”

“Please.” He quietly says and you sigh because you know he is shutting down.

“Keizo.” He looks at you just when you get so close that your chest collided with his. “Calm down a little bit for me, yeah?”

“I’m scared of losing you.” He murmurs, always so honest and blunt with you. He takes your face in his hands. “I understand now why you got offended.”

You nod and kiss his palm softly. That is the thing with him; the reason why you never had big arguments before is because of the great communication between you two, with you always coming out clean on what’s bothering you and him doing the same.

“It’s okay.” You tell him and he shakes his head.

He crouches a little and puts his hand in the back of your thighs to lift you up, walking to the couch that’s in the office and sitting with you on top of him, straddling him.

“There’s absolutely no reason for us not to be in a relationship; I love you and we both been knowing that for ages, I literally can’t imagine myself with another person or in a world with you not being my other half—fuck…” He groans when you start to scratch his scalp while looking directly into his eyes. He adores that and it puts him in a trance in no time. “I was so scared I guess, what if we make it official and I fuck things up? I got so comfortable with our arrangement that I thought changing it would make us fall apart.”

“And that was what offended me. I wasn’t— I’m not asking for the world.” You tell him and his whole attention is on your words, wanting to know about your feelings so he could fix his mess. “You said it like we are teenagers just messing with each other but Keizo, even if it’s friends with benefits you are not talking to other girls and I’m not talking to other men, I have a spare key of your apartment and you too of mine. If you decide to spend an entire month in my house you wouldn’t have to worry about clothes since half of your closet is with me…”

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” He chuckles sadly and you lean and give him a brief kiss.

“You didn’t, it was just so out of character of the way you usually are with me that it messed up my idea of our dynamic.” He nods.

“Let me be your man— officially your man.” He looks at your lips. “We should be at a stage in our relationship where we are living together and we are not because of me. Let me fix that.”

“Both of us are at fault in that, because I never brought up the topic either.” You say and he wraps his arms around you at your next words in whispers. “I was too focused on trying to stick to your first proposal of friends with benefits, not wanting to be that typical person that falls first and then demands a relationship and I didn’t want you to break the deal because of that and—,”

“I don’t think I would’ve done that, you literally got me going dumb for you, baby.” You roll your eyes with a smile, here comes the flirty Benkei. “I’m head over heels for you, don’t you see it?”

“I don’t.” You raise an eyebrow and he chuckles, already leaning.

“S’kay, I’ll show you.”

And just like he did that day in front of Wakasa, he crashes his lips on yours with a passion that is saved for the bedroom, making you moan in his mouth instantly because good God, you missed him so much. His hands go south till they’re flat on your ass and instead of the typical smack he grabs it and pulls you to his chest with desperation, making you pull away a little to catch your breath.

“I’m gonna fix it, yeah?” He whispers on your lips and you bite his lower lip, making him groan.

“It’s not broken, baby.” He sighs and his eyes roll to the back of his head because it’s a big difference between the feeling he had when you call him by his gang nickname and the feeling when you call him by his real name and by pet names. The fear of thinking he was going to lose you has him feeling everything more. “You’re not gonna fix something that isn’t broken.”

“I love you so much— oh my God, I love you so much??¿” He whispers with his eyes wide open as if he’s telling you a secret and you chuckle.

“I love you more, pretty boy.” He smiles and you let out a giggle. “Now I can properly tell men to back the fuck off because my boyfriend is not as friendly as they want me to be with them. I can point at you if they insist.”

“Right, because the only reason why I didn’t break the old man’s face earlier is because I was going insane over the fact that you didn’t talk to me for three weeks.” He says and you smack his chest softly.

“Violent ass,” You murmur and he shrugs, already leaning to catch your lips again.

“Whatever you want me to be, y’know that, now make up those three weeks without you.” He whispers agitatedly on your lips, before going back to kiss you.

You smirk, and that you’ll do.

🏷: @saturnmitsuya @milliumizoomi @dai-tsukki-desu @haitanigigi @yunho-leeknow @melaninnntae @keimisan @welkinmoongrab @plutosexc @ccxiia @manjiroarchiviste @aasouthteranoswife @crushsoli @gwynsapphire @eriskaitto @crapimahuman @inu1gf @q-the-rockaholic

[imagination-mess]

How you joined his circle of friends; his feelings for you

The Adventures of The Sano Family

It's more like you got dragged into it by Shinichiro, ever since the two met at his home.

He hasn't left you alone and tried to invite you to hang out with his friends. You prefer to be by yourself, but Shinichiro saw through your lie. You were hurt so many times that you prefer to not get hurt any longer.

By pure coincidence, Shinichiro finds you by yourself surrounded by a group of men. He was hanging out with his friends. He clearly steps in.

It ended up turning into a full-blown brawl, his friends and him were surprised, but shocked that you haven't run away from the fight but instead joined in and covered their backs.

You were kicking ass!

Shinichiro saw how similar your moves were to his younger brother's techniques. You must be the one that Mikey has talked about teaching someone at the exchange of snacks.

You invited them into your home to get fixed up and get a homemade dinner as a thank you.

Ever since, the brawl. You had tagged along with them. You didn't care that they were delinquents. You also became founders of the black dragons, but you were more staying in the shadows.

However, you did make a quite reputation for yourself due to being a girl and being seen as delinquent due to hanging out with them. You would wear a mask during their gathering in order to protect your identity.

You didn't want to get caught by your parents. Your parents will murder you if they find out that you became delinquent.

You are also being their tutor even though you struggle at school as well. You were better off comparing to the rest of them. You are the reason why they even graduated with your help because they cutting class.

You would barely particulate when it comes to fighting other gangs because the boys wanted to keep you out of it. However, you did step in if someone was trying to play dirty.

If they wanna play dirty, you will play dirty as well. That's another reason why you were well known. You pull dirty tricks, such as using an object or using the dirty and through at their eyes. You are also handy when it comes to having a pocket knife. You would also bite your opponent.

The boys helped you training how to disarm someone with a knife, in case of situation arrives that you had to. They know how high the number of crimes comes a being woman. They don't you to become one of those numbers as well.

The first generation of the Black Dragons was protective of you as you are protective over them. They saw you as a sibling, however, Shinichiro didn't. He wanted to date you.

Shinichiro admired your compassion and inspiration. He also liked you didn't baby him, but instead motivate him to learn how to pack a punch. You inspired him to become a better fighter.

He also loves how you retract with his siblings as if they were yours. He saw how happy was to have a girl around finally who understand her struggles.

You were everything he would like in a woman, but you kept turning him down. Unknown to him, he already has swiped you off your feet and you are just scared.

However, due to close to death situation, you confessed to him. He got stabbed due to protecting you from a surprise attack by a rival gang.

"You can't die on me! You hear me! I love you!"

The rest was history, the two had become an item. Your friends were happy that Shinichiro would stop asking how to get you to like him romantically.

He didn't have to do anything special. He just had to be himself.

I hope you are enjoying these random headcanons. It was impulsive but hopefully, someone likes it.

[moonandflowersfairy]

Hiyaaaaaa

Could you please do headcanons for Shinchiro’s ideal type of girl?🥺❤️ please💙💙💙💙💙💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

It would mean the world to me💓

His ideal type // Shinichiro x f. reader

genre: fluff

warnings: not suggestive but talks about body types

A. N: hope you like it, anon. if not, please send the ask again and be more detailed so I can write it how you want it. I had fun writing this and tried to be as inclusive as possible. Likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated, reposts are not allowed! ly<3

¡! ¡! ¡! ¡! ¡! ¡! ¡! ¡! ¡! ¡! ¡! ¡! ¡!

women.

just women. 😵💖🛐💍✨

he's weak for women.

and he's not ashamed of it

he wants someone mature

he already takes care of plenty of children for his girlfriend to be acting like one...

that also involves gang bussiness, someone who can handle his past

if you met him after leaving black dragons, then he would tell you about them until your relationship has had some time, just to be sure

even if you meet him while he's in black dragons he would try to not mix both of you

he wants you safe and sound

being the founder and exleader/leader of the most known gang in Tokyo its not something to be taken lightly

if he sees you can handle it, he'll like you even more.

he wants someone kind and maternal

he is very drown to family, and keeps it as n.1 priority

so when he sees you getting along with his siblings, he'll just feel very happy and blessed

he always thinks about your future together, and your family, if you want to have one

if not, he'll be fine with that, as long as you are happy

he would prefer to have kids, and be settled

compromised

its all or nothing when talking about a serious relationship .

he is known to be flirty and "womanizer" but when he gets with someone he will be very loyal

he expects the same for you (who would cheat on him?!)

he wants an affectionate girlfriend

he needs love and a girl who can provide it would make him happy

expect a lot of cuddles

but mostly in private, he gets shy.

someone badass

I feel he is very drown to powerful women that know what they want

its not that he isn't going to take care of things, but having a girl with an opinion and strong will will make him feel secure.

looks aren't very important to him

it doesn't matter if you are skinny or fat, or blonde or brunette, or tall or short, he will love you whole, no matter what

tho he has a preference for people from other cultures.

booty or boobies? personality. but booty>>>

and he loves if you have tummy fat, he thinks its cute.

he wants someone who is creative and flexible.

he's a leo so he is compatible with aries, sagittarius, libra and gemini.

a wild guess of mine is that he has a lot of earth signs in his chart so maybe a pisces or capricorn will work the best

and for frienship, a scorpio and cancer

Overall, he wants a girl who is determined and can empathize with almost everything, even if you are his polar opposite he'll love you. As mentioned he's nuts for women same so expect a lot of praise from this lovebird 💜

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Benevolence In Darkness

Summary: Written for Banned Together Bingo. Diverts before THW. A young woman has traveled far to request the aid of the one they call the Dragon Master.

Warning: /

Rating: General

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Httyd OC (mentions of Snotlout and Hookfang)

Pairing: /

Words: 3 107

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Benign Witch”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: I had a lot of fun playing with the supernatural elements in this one.

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

Ao3

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On a lonesome dinghy at the shores of an island shrouded in a thick fog, a Viking woman sits.

She's armed to the teeth with a proud black bear fur wrapped around her shoulders, as is tradition with adults in her clan. Muscled, stocky, short, she's still an intimidating sight to behold. There's a determination in her eyes that you would not want to cross.

And yet, the one left in trepidation is her as her little dinghy ventures along on side of the island she's come to in search of an entrance. With the fog, she can barely see anything but the dark and wet rocks of the cliffs she's rowing past.

This island belongs to the dragons and she can hear them chittering beyond her view. Once in a while, a large shadow will pass over her, but she doesn't fear them. She has lived with dragons all her life, she knows the old saying "kill on sight" is very outdated.

Finally, she finds what she's looking for, a little inlet leading into a slightly bigger bay. And at the other end? There's a cave.

With her paddle, she steers her little boat into the bay. On the rocky cliffs on either side of her, she can see amulets hanging from the walls, treasures, even letters and hopes, and many more things left behind as tribute. Her blue eyes glide over the presents, some of which are little wooden statues of dragons, and she lets out a deep sigh.

The cave entrance is large with weeds hanging down from the top and it is dark, so incredibly dark. The closer she comes, the louder her heart pounds.

But not to worry, she's come prepared.

There's a tiny bundle in the dinghy with her, a little dragon napping underneath a blanket. Lifting it up, she grabs the Terrible Terror from his spot.

"Come on, Sleepy, time to do your thing." The woman tells the purple and blue dragon, settling him on her lap and grabbing a torch next. She makes for a fierce sight, her hands are calloused from years of combat, but for dragons, she has a soft spot.

If she hadn't, she would be ashamed of herself, considering who one of her ancestors is.

Sleepy lies on her lap, a little grumpy to have been awoken from his sleep, but he waits as his human friend checks if the torch she brought with her is still dry enough to be of use.

It is and Sleepy lights it on fire when she asks him to.

The cave is so large that a torch helps little, but it's better than to see absolutely nothing.

The warrior continues to row deeper into the cave until the entrance is no longer in sight. The darkness has a claustrophobic touch to it and she needs to breathe deeply and calmly if she wishes to keep control over her breath.

It is silent, too. The only sounds are that of water dripping down from the ceiling and that of the paddle breaking the water's surface. It doesn't help her nerves, which are tested. The only reason why she doesn't call it quits is that she's here for a loved one.

She would do well to remind herself that this is a safe place. No matter the countless terrible stories, she knows this is a safe place for anybody who hails from Berk, like her. She just needs to remember this as she rows deeper and deeper.

Sleepy sits up on her lap, his yellow eyes looking around them. This isn't the most inviting of places even to a dragon, especially to a dragon born and raised in the warmth of Berk, but he's not alarmed either. He knows who they've traveled all this way for and all dragons like him.

"Stay calm," His human mutters, though he's certain she's talking more to herself than to him.

She's anxious and it's only because of her training as a warrior that she doesn't tremble.

In her head, she recounts the many stories of him, the one they'll find in this dank place.

They say he was a Viking once upon a time, a mere ordinary human being with no special qualities, just someone like her. There was nothing besides his strange affinity for dragons, so they say.

That changed and the longer he spent with them, the dragons, the stranger he became.

He was once chief of her village, the founder and the leader of the very first generation of Dragon Riders. He lead his people, humans and dragons alike, with a gentle hand until the age of 50. After 30 years, that is when he let his firstborn take over from him. He stuck around for another five decades and it is said that he and his Night Fury left Berk then.

At the ripe old age of 100, did they leave, and the stories say he doesn't look a day over 20.

Not an ordinary human, indeed.

And supposedly, he was good friends with her great-great-grandfather, a man by the name of Snotlout Jorgenson.

Her rowing comes to an end when the river does and at the other end of the pool she now finds herself in, there's another rock wall, like a cliff. This is where they say he'll meet you if he considers you worthy enough and not a threat.

Thankfully, the bar is supposedly quite low with him. All that you require is good intentions and a love for dragons. She has both, though she did come armed. There's a bludgeon in the dinghy with them and a mace hanging from her belt.

The silence is broken by shuffling, metal on stone, and Sleepy croaks uncertainly.

"Shh, it's going to be okay." The woman reassures her dragon, their torchlight not allowing them to see what moves in the darkness.

And then there is the sound of something much, much larger, and the warrior holds her breath. If the old chief is already here, then his Night Fury without a doubt is, too. How do they know that they're here so quickly? They've only just arrived!

She hates that she can't see anything beyond the light of her torch. How can he navigate through a darkness as thick as this? Is it because he's more dragon than human now?

There is the deep breathing coming from the big dragon, but his old Rider has a presence as well. She can sense him there.

But out of nowhere, Sleepy's nervousness melts away and he leaves her lap to fly to the edges of the light and settle on the rocks.

"Sleepy!" She calls him back, wants to scold him for his reckless behavior, but Sleepy doesn't listen. What if his action is extremely disrespectful?!

Sleepy purrs excitedly and from the shadows comes a hand decorated with black scales that scratches his chin. He immediately melts in the touch, lying down and resting his head in the hand.

Just beyond the torchlight, the visiting warrior can almost make out an outline. She can see an arm leading to shoulders, part of a face, braided hair, a metal leg that still catches the orange glint of the fire. But even with all of this, his appearance is still left largely to her imagination.

"The Dragon Master," The significantly younger warrior breathes anxiously.

Though his eyes are concealed, she can very faintly see his smile. It's a good sign.

And then there is a second pair of eyes peering at her from the darkness just over the figure's shoulders. Green in color, they almost appear to be glowing in the inky blackness.

It's the Night Fury and he growls at her.

"Shh," He tells the dragon, a hand on his scales.

"We know that face." The voice tells him and the Viking wonders how that can be as he can't see. Nevermind the darkness of this cave he's chosen as the spot to meet visitors at, his eyes are covered with a thick cloth, something many speculative stories have been told about as well.

Some are very simple, claiming that while he never aged, his eyes couldn't do the same and he went blind due to his old age. Others tell about them being too beautiful to look into, too alluring. And then there are those that claim he covers his eyes because he can see right through you and that blinding himself is a mercy on you. He's sparing you his judgment.

She has no idea which of these are true, but it is strange that he can cover up his eyes and still see her.

"No introduction?" The Dragon Master asks, the smile she would almost call a playful smirk not yet leaving his face.

Startled out of her stupor, the woman stands up. A feat in a little dinghy as it rocks from side to side with her action.

"Brenna. My name is Brenna Jorgenson, currently the eldest daughter of the Jorgenson clan, one of Berk's strongest-"

"Well, I'm happy to see that the Jorgensons are still as boastful as ever." She deflates at that comment. Clearly, what would usually impress another Viking does not work on him. Why did she ever think that it would?

Does he notice it? His smile wavers.

"I had a Jorgenson for a right-hand man when I was chief, which I'm sure you know about since you're claiming you're from Berk. Your family is boastful, but I know you can back it up. Snotlout was one of my closest friends, I couldn't have wished for a better man." That helps settle her again and she wonders if he did that on purpose.

He moves deeper into the shadows and away from her. The Night Fury makes a sound, shuffling beyond the light. The torch goes out and the dinghy rocks. Suddenly, he's behind her and she can hear the Night Fury wandering about.

The rocking of her little boat sends her falling, but hands grab and steady her.

"Tell me why you're here." She can feel him pull her down until they both sit.

"My dragon, a Monstrous Nightmare, has fallen ill. Gothi has done everything in her power to help, but nothing she's done helps. She sent me to you, told me you may be able to help." She explains her reason for coming all this way. She's come for his aid.

She can almost make something out in the darkness. Almost, but not quite. She feels like he's much taller than her, though they're sitting now.

"Tell me what's wrong with her."

The woman blinks, not remembering telling him that her dragon is female.

They do say that his senses are dragon-like, can he tell because of them? She grabs her fur and takes a brief sniff, wondering if she smells of a female Nightmare.

Upon seeing this, the Dragon Master chuckles, but otherwise doesn't respond. The sound, like any other noise made or word spoken, echoes in this chamber.

She should answer his question.

"She doesn't want to eat, she can barely fly, she's lethargic, she can't light herself on fire, she's cold as ice... Gothi... Gothi thinks she's lost her fire." As she lists her symptoms, there's a thoughtful hum.

"The Fireworm Queen-"

"We've searched for her, but her nest is abandoned!" She interrupts him despite the many, many warnings from her elders to treat the Dragon master with respect.

If someone like him hates to be interrupted, he's not showing it.

"Go home. Be with your dragon and make sure she doesn't feel alone, I'll take care of this. Your job is to keep your dragon fighting, make her keep drawing breath. Your presence and support will motivate her. In the meantime, the solution to your problem will come to you from yours truly." The dinghy rocks again and with that the Dragon Master has left her.

"Bud," There's a flash of purple light and the torch comes to life again.

Brenna doesn't know when she stopped breathing, but now that he's no longer on her boat, she takes a deep breath of air.

That someone can be so intimidating... And yet, she doesn't feel like she has any reason to fear him.

He'd smelled of dragon, of smoke, and metal. And maybe there was a hint of rain and the forest as well.

"Dragon Master?" Brenna calls out for him when the silence stretches on and it takes her much too long to realize that he really has left. The Night Fury can no longer be heard either.

She sags, suddenly exhausted. Sleepy comes back to her and she settles on her shoulder, purring happily. He nuzzles her cheek before settling on the front of the dinghy and chirping.

Sleepy is usually a very lazy dragon, which is why he has the name that he has, but Brenna finds him strangely energetic as he wiggles and chirps while his human friend turns this dinghy around to row out of this cave.

She supposes that's the kind of effect the Dragon Master has on dragons. Just being near him makes them happy.

The way back out of the cave and away from the island back to the longboat she'd come with is silent, but not as frightening as the way in was. It is strangely comfortable.

She wonders what the Dragon Master meant with the solution to her problem coming to her, but she supposes she'll have to put her faith in him. She knows Berk does, anyone who loves dragons or is bonded to one does.

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

Just like the Dragon Master told her to, she hasn't left her dragon's side since coming back home.

Curled up in their living room in front of the fire, the poor thing rumbles as her head rests in Brenna's lap, who pets her nose in comfort.

"I know, Nightmarefang. I'm sure the Dragon master will be here soon." Or she hopes so, at least. She thinks that what he meant by "your solution will come to you" meant that he is supposed to come to them.

Nightmarefang rumbles miserably and closes her eyes to sleep. She feels miserable.

Just then, dust comes falling from the rafters and Brenna thinks that strange as she hasn't heard anything climb up or land on the roof of her home. Isn't that why the dust has been disturbed? Because movement from above has shaken it loose?

There is creaking right above her, like something heavy settles its weight from one of its four feet to another. The sounds continue their way to her front door and she recognizes vaguely that this can only be a dragon.

But considering the stealth necessary to land so soundlessly and the number of feet, she can think of only one kind of dragon.

A Night Fury.

There's a thud as someone jumps down from the roof and Brenna can see from the shadows underneath her door that this isn't a dragon, but a person. The Night Fury's Rider?

"Dragon Master," She breathes excitedly, a grin forming on her face.

The Nightmare whines questioningly.

"Excuse me, Fangy." Brenna gently lifts the dragon's head from her lap and rushes towards the door.

In her excitement, she flings it open in a hurry, but no one is there.

Instead, there on the ground, bathed in the light of the fire, lies a Fireworm firecomb.

"Fireworm?" Brenna questions worryingly, knowing how vital these are to the survival of baby Fireworm.

She takes another look around the village, or what little she can see from her spot, but still finds nothing. Not even high in the sky does she see a shadow pass the bright moon and stars.

Where did they go?

Brenna approaches the firecomb and cautiously picks it up. She notices that there's a letter attached to it with string.

It seems without larvae and she has to believe that the protector of all dragons wouldn't have just stolen something he knows is precious to every Fireworm.

She takes and reads the note.

"I've located and asked a Fireworm Queen if she could part with one and fill it with her venom. The venom has many properties, but most importantly, it's where Fireworm larvae get their heat and it is also how we can give a Monstrous Nightmare her fire back. It worked for Snotlout and hookfang, it'll work for Nightmarefang."

Again, after reading that, Brenna blinks in confusion. How does he know her dragon's name?

"If you ever need any help at all, don't hesitate to come again. Having dragons for company is great, but sometimes a friendly human face is nice, too." And then there's that at the very bottom. Not quite what you'd expect someone like him to write, something so... human.

But the letter sets her at ease a little. The Dragon master kindly asked for a firecomb and received one. It's probably a request only he can make.

Brenna holds the gift close to her heart, more thankful than she can ever express. She takes one more look around before she heads back inside.

"Nightmarefang, look! A gift from the Dragon Master himself! This will make you all better." Brenna tells her dragon and the front door closes.

Some distance away, a Night Fury and his Rider watch from a high cliff.

In the moonlight, both of their eyes glow, reflecting the moon almost unnaturally, and with their keen hearing they can hear what's going on inside.

The Fireworm Queen's gel does Nightmarefang wonders and there's muffled roaring of cheers, both human and dragon alike. They're not just as boastful as their predecessors, they're also just as loud as them.

And as at least some of the stories about him are true, he can see that Brenna and her dragon are good people, too. Just like Snotlout and Hookfang before them.

Hiccup pats his old friend on the shoulder.

"Bud, what do you say we go home?" He asks and Toothless responds agreeingly, nose bumping into his shoulder.

It feels good to help a dragon and her human, one which happens to be the descendant of a dear friend, and it feels good to see Berk again. This village is completely different from the one they have left behind, but that is to be expected. Change is a neverending process, after all. The two of them have changed.

Toothless stands and Hiccup climbs into the saddle. It is time to return home and the two jump off the cliff, wings unfurling and beating to get them both high up in the air. They make for home.

[hphm-etched-engraved-everlasting]

2. Em

Author’s Note/Table of Contents

If I had to be honest, I had no idea just what Hogwarts would be like.

All my life I have heard of my siblings facing trouble there, and it was a never-ending topic of conversation among my family. Amidst the hardcore studies, there was trouble brewing. After I received my letter, my parents almost stopped me from going, and I didn't have any trouble agreeing with them when they shook their heads. But Clara kept begging and pleading, telling them that she'd keep me safe. It was then when she told me what she was truly hiding, and I had to say, I've never felt more moved by the amount of care she had for me.

So they said yes. And that was when I began to wonder just what laid in store for me--just one month ago.

Walking into Hogwarts now still felt like walking into a dream, really. It was like stepping foot into a trance you knew you wouldn't want to wake from. Huge chambers filled with history and mystery made up this incredible fortress for us to study magic--and, in my family's case, solve a huge case that would potentially put the school at ease once more. Candles burned bright everywhere, flames in torches lit with a warm welcome glow. Everywhere I looked, there was something cool to see--even now, as I stood in the Great Hall, a small soul among many others my age gazing at a worn old hat atop a tall stool.

The hat suddenly ripped open at the brim and began to sing its song.

As years passed in this hallowed school I aged to do my task To sort all younger magic folk In houses--which, you ask?

Brave Gryffindor, we are to start For sheerest courage and dare With loyalty and strength to heart They'd sacrifice and care

Sweet Hufflepuff, ah yes, that's one To see the hard work shine Among their brethren in the sun Always patient, just, and fine

Then Ravenclaw, intelligent With smarts and certainty Give credit to the ones who went To read, to know, to see

Shrewd Slytherin, the ones so sly They love to meet their match By any means, they dare to try Ambition, that's their catch

They started off as founders four To build this wondrous school They made me with their goal of core The custom, placement rule

So put me on, try me out And I will look to see The house where you belong, no doubt The house where you will be!

For a talking hat, it wasn't a bad verse at all. I glanced over at the Gryffindor table and caught my older sister's eye; she just gave me an encouraging nod as she clapped with everyone else.

"Now, when I call your name, you will come forward to be Sorted," Professor McGonagall told us then. She unfurled a long scroll in her hands then, and began reading it aloud.

"Ahn, Eunice!"

A tall girl with tan skin and a rebellious white streak in her black hair walked up and put the hat on her head. I counted approximately ten seconds as she sat on the stool before the hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

I glanced over at the table where everyone was wearing black robes followed by green accents--the same table where Eunice Ahn was walking to. I shouldn't be surprised to see them grinning like maniacs at the new addition. Like the Sorting Hat said, they'd achieve their means by any means necessary.

"Amherst, Remy!"

Next, a burly boy with ash blond hair walked past me--almost pushing me to the side--and put on the hat.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

On and on, the list went, each person trying on the hat and getting their results shouted to the entire school a minute later. Some people barely had the hat on for a second before its decision was announced. Others took longer. I remembered this one boy, Cedric Diggory, sitting on the stool for almost two minutes before the Sorting Hat declared that he'd be put in Hufflepuff House. Each time someone was sorted, though, thunderous applause could be heard from the various house tables, all around the Great Hall--now that I looked at every house, I wondered where the Hat would put me. It didn't help that the lower Professor McGonagall went down the list, the closer the time for my Sorting got.

"Lester, Felicity!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Lian, Michael!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Lin, Emily!"

That was it. The bomb had finally dropped, and the Hall had gotten so eerily quiet, one could hear a pin drop in the middle of the room. Then I heard the whispers.

"Another Lin?"

"No way. I thought Jacob only had one sibling!"

"Looks like we were fooled."

"Better not have another snob walking around the place."

Snob? I took it that another Emily must have left some muddy tracks somewhere in her Hogwarts reputation, but that wouldn't mean that I would be the same. I couldn't be. True, not many people knew about Jacob Lin's second little sister--mostly because my mother didn't want anyone to know that she had failed not just one other child, but two children who didn't deserve the pain that was losing their eldest brother. Still, who gave them the right to openly judge me when they've only just known about me for the first time?

The hat eventually dropped over my head, obscuring the vision before me--all the heads craning at me, trying to get a better glimpse of me. Then I heard a small little voice in my head.

"Another Lin. Yes, they were right. I wasn't expecting another sibling of the infamous curse-breaker," it seemed to say. "But here she is. My, what an intriguing personality. You seem to be different from your siblings."

"In a good way?" I whispered, my mouth barely moving.

"I see courage and loyalty, yes. Your greatness is strong, but there is something else. I see a thirst for justice. I see a will to work hard, and spread kindness among others. You will prove yourself, little Em, in a way you might not expect."

Silence ensued. Then--

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Thunderous applause suddenly came from the Hufflepuff table on my left, and I saw Clara stand up at the Gryffindor table to give me applause, too. I got off the stool and looked at her; she nodded and jerked her head to the Hufflepuffs, and I saw another girl about Clara's age with blonde hair in plaits and bright blue eyes wave me over.

"Wotcher, Emily!" a girl with pink hair greeted me with a grin as I approached the table. "You're Clara's little sister? She's hardly mentioned you much."

"Tonks, that's not nice. I'm sure Clara was only doing it to protect her," the girl with blonde hair said with a frown. "I'm Penny, by the way. I hope you enjoy it here in Hufflepuff."

"Of course. I really look forward to some fun times here," I responded politely, though I knew that might not happen. At least, from the way things were going, it wouldn't be.

The rest of the Sorting continued without me paying much attention--all I could remember was loud roars from the Gryffindor table as a pair of redheaded twins got sorted there. The moment everyone was seated, the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, stepped forward.

"To our new students, welcome! To our old students, welcome back!" he commenced. "There will be a time for serious speech, but for now, we feast. Tuck in!"

Suddenly, the plates were filled with food I could never imagine having eaten at home. Heaps of golden mashed potatoes with the slightest sprinkle of parsley, juicy steak with savoury barbecue sauce, steamed vegetables of various kinds bringing colour to the meal. As everyone else grabbed their forks and knives and began to grab their servings of food, I too began to help myself to everything I could see.

"This looks incredible!" I exclaimed, shovelling a small spoonful of mashed potatoes in my mouth. "Mm. I can see why Clara loves the start-of-term feasts so much."

"Any feast is a great feast here at Hogwarts!" Tonks exclaimed with an eager nod. "Ooh, wait till you get to the Halloween feast. Always good spooky fun."

A girl with short silver hair nodded. "At least we'll be safe from the threat that is Greyback returning to Hogwarts." She then turned to me. "Your sister was really brave, stepping up to stop him."

"That's Chiara," a boy with dark brown hair introduced her. "And I'm Diego Caplan, the greatest dueller at Hogwarts."

Did I just imagine that, or did he just smirk at me? I laughed and took a quick swig of my pumpkin juice. "Ah, I remember you. Clara told me quite a bit about you, Diego."

"All good things, I hope." Diego smiled and produced a bouquet of roses out of nowhere, handing them to me.

"Ooh. They're beautiful, Diego," Penny approved with a nod as I took them--hey, it was a friendly gesture, after all. "Nice welcome gift."

"Wait till you get to the Hufflepuff common room! I've got a cool present for you too!" Tonks said excitedly, clapping her hands.

The rest of the time, we were eating and laughing together, just Clara's Hufflepuff friends and me, until dessert came around. Clara then came over to the Hufflepuff table just as I was grabbing a fruit tart, tapping me on the shoulder.

"Come on. I want to introduce you to the rest of my friends."

So I took the fruit tart and went with her to see some of her friends from other houses. It kind of saddened me to see that I wouldn't be able to meet Bill--from what I heard in Clara's stories, he was a crucial part in Clara's education and growth here--but the others were just lovely company all the same. There was Tulip, who was also quite the troublemaker at school. Andre, the fashionista and Quidditch fanatic who simply nodded at my choice of wardrobe and complimented me with the rose bouquet I held. Barnaby, a Slytherin who looked confused half the time, but was genuinely kind. Charlie, the redhead who loves dragons to no end. I found myself at ease with Clara's friends, but I knew that I would have to make some of my own, too. They wouldn't be around here forever. By the time I enter my third year, I would have to have some friends of my own age.

I just hope I could without the judgments going around.

"This is weird," Clara eventually commented to me. "I told you about Ben, Merula, and Beatrice, didn't I?"

"Ben, Merula, and Beatrice? Yeah, I remember." I nodded thoughtfully, glancing at the doors of the Great Hall. "But you told me you never really liked Merula."

"Doesn't mean that she'd be fully fine on her own. I know how bad she got it last year--almost as worse as me." She glanced around the Great Hall, a concerned look in her eyes. "They're not here. That's troubling."

"You think they didn't come? Or that they wanted to skip?"

All Clara could do was heave a long sigh before Professor Dumbledore reappeared on his grand podium, clapping his hands. I quickly returned to the Hufflepuff table, grabbing a custard cream and quietly munching on it as he talked.

"Students of Hogwarts, your attention, please."

The Great Hall fell silent once more--so quiet, you could hear the echo in Dumbledore's voice greatly magnified across the chamber.

"It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to the start of a new year at Hogwarts," he said, sweeping his arms out in a grand gesture. "And with a new school year comes new opportunities, to further your studies...develop new friendships...grow as young wizards and witches...and apply difficult lessons learned to build a brighter future."

Or will learn, in my case. Still, I was enraptured by his speech. That was what Hogwarts was made to do--that was the purpose of the school. Raising young people with potential...I nodded quietly, sparing a glance at my sister, who was just looking at him with a serious glint in her eyes.

"In recent years, we've been through some trying times," Dumbledore continued. "But Hogwarts remains an institute dedicated to learning, and there is no place here for those who seek to threaten it. And so, Professor Rakepick will no longer be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. All are urged to let the proper authorities deal with her and the Cursed Vaults."

I could see Tonks looking like she was holding back tears. Penny turned as white as a sheet of paper. Diego's eyes narrowed at the announcement, and I wasn't sure if it was my imagination again or not, but he seemed to spare a glance at me--a concerned glance, as if silently asking if I was okay.

"Your priority should be your lessons, and preparing for your wizarding careers," Dumbledore encouraged with a solemn nod. "Our staff is here to support you in those efforts. Do not hesitate to ask for help. Now it is time to wrap up the feast--I imagine your cozy beds are awaiting you."

At these words, everyone got up and huddled towards the door in large masses. From afar, I could hear another girl's voice calling, "Hufflepuff first-years, come over here please!"

I quickly finished off the custard cream and was about to walk over to her, but was stopped by Diego again, who reached a hand out to me.

"If you need anything, little Em, just let me know," Diego said. "Anything that bothers you, you can tell me--and the other sixth years. They're good people. Clara trusts them, even me."

His eyes glinted with concern when he said this, and I nodded, taking his hand and shaking it. "Thanks, Diego. I'll keep it in mind," I responded lightly.

Then we parted ways while the Hufflepuff prefects lead us to the common room--a cozy little place below the castle, where everything glowed topaz and gold. It reminded me of a hobbit hole, with tunnels and circular doors branching off to the various dormitories. As I entered my dormitory, I barely noticed the other girls coming in--I suppose everyone was just as exhausted as I was.

I quickly got changed and climbed into bed, my head hitting the pillow before closing my eyes.

Would I really be safe here, or would I face potential betrayal too, the same way Clara did? And when it happened...what would it take for me to protect myself?

[letterboxd]

Life in Film: The Black List’s Franklin Leonard.

To celebrate The Black List’s annual survey for 2019, we put the Letterboxd Life in Film questionnaire to its visionary founder Franklin Leonard.

Back in 2005, Franklin Leonard, who was then a junior executive at Leonardo DiCaprio’s Appian Way Productions, wanted a better way to find great screenplays. He went through his contacts and asked almost 100 anonymous Hollywood execs to send him the unproduced scripts they’d most enjoyed reading that year. Not the scripts they thought would make money. The scripts they loved.

In return, Franklin compiled a list of those screenplays and shared it with all of them. He called it The Black List. Among the films on that first anonymous survey: Juno, Lars and the Real Girl, Charlie Wilson’s War and The Kite Runner. Since then, more than 400 Black List scripts have been produced, including this year’s Jojo Rabbit, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, Booksmart, Hala, Queen & Slim and Late Night. At the time of writing, Black List movies have won 53 Academy Awards from 262 nominations—including four of the last ten Best Picture Oscars (Slumdog Millionaire, The King’s Speech, Argo and Spotlight) and ten of the last 22 Best Screenplay Oscars—and grossed over $26 billion in box office worldwide.

Alongside the annual anonymous list, The Black List has also become an online community where screenwriters make their work available to readers, buyers and employers. The rewards of sharing include getting valuable feedback, connecting with talent and management agencies, and selling or optioning screenplays. Leonard’s baby is now something of a mini cultural revolution, helping Hollywood address its inclusion issues at script level by surfacing original stories from a wider diversity of writers.

Peter Sellers in ‘Being There’ (1979), written by Robert C. Jones and Jerzy Kosinski and directed by Hal Ashby.

What film made you want to become a member of the filmmaking community yourself? Franklin Leonard: I don’t think there’s an individual film that did, but I did make the decision to come to Los Angeles to figure out if it was possible for me after a Dr. Strangelove, Amadeus and Being There triple-feature during the middle of a snow storm in New York City.

What’s the first film you remember where you specifically became aware of the screenplay, and why? President Shepherd’s final speech in The American President [written by Aaron Sorkin]. For whatever reason, I remember realizing in that moment that someone who believed this political point of view sat down and wrote this speech for a character in a movie and now everyone in this theater in west central Georgia is hearing it and having to reconsider their own [point of view].

What’s your go-to comfort movie, and how many times do you think you’ve seen it? When Harry Met Sally [written by Nora Ephron]. I have long ago lost count.

As a teenager, what movie character was like a mirror to what you were feeling at the time? I have and will forever identify with the nerdiest character on screen, but being a black nerd living in America’s Deep South, there weren’t exactly many mirrors in the film culture for me. In television, Steve Urkel on Family Matters, Dwayne Wayne on Family Matters, and Elvin Tibodeaux on The Cosby Show.

What film poster did you have on your wall at college? Julian Schnabel’s Basquiat. The one that looked like it had been painted red with Jeffrey Wright as Basquiat walking through the village carrying a stuffed duck.

What’s the sexiest film you’ve ever seen? In the Mood For Love.

What film do you have fond memories of watching with your parent/s? Literally anything with Richard Pryor, with my father.

Guiltiest pleasure? The Last Dragon.

Favorite holiday movie? Elf.

What classic are you embarrassed to say you haven’t seen? Some Like It Hot.

What’s a film that you had always loved and then watched again recently and went “ooh, problematic!”? I don’t even know where to start.

Which movie scene makes you cry the hardest? The moment of exultation after Fonny and Tish finally get their apartment in If Beale Street Could Talk. Gets me teary just writing this.

A still from Julie Dash’s pioneering feature film ‘Daughters of the Dust’ (1991).

What filmmaker—living or not—do you most envy or admire? Julie Dash. First African American woman to make a feature film to obtain a general theatrical release in the United States [Daughters of the Dust]. The fortitude, will and talent are all worthy of both admiration and envy.

As the founder of The Black List, can we ask you to name five films that define the perfect screenplay? This is a fundamentally impossible question for me to answer, but here are five screenplays that I seem to consistently reference of late: Parasite (written by Bong Joon-Ho and Han Jin-Won), Black Panther (Ryan Coogler and Joe Robert Cole), When Harry Met Sally (Nora Ephron), Amadeus (Peter Shaffer) and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Charlie Kaufman, with Pierre Bismuth and Michel Gondry).

The 2019 Black List is out now. Related: The Black List’s Letterboxd profile; Todd Perry’s Oscar lists of all winners and nominees for Best Original Screenplay and for Best Adapted Screenplay; A list of films about screenwriters—and another; 15 Films for an Aspiring Screenwriter: a list featuring ‘In the Mood for Love’; Franklin Leonard’s TED talk about the genesis of The Black List.

[producerguk]

bruises, part 1

➝ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

➝ genre: angst, bits of fluff

➝ warnings: swearing, violence 

➝ word count: 4,7K

  » mafia!au jeongguk, where he’s the one that keeps you from drowning when things fall apart. 

➝ a/n: i didn’t want to portrait an abusive or toxic relationship, so i went a little out of what was requested. i’d like to thank @btsflufflysmut for editing. i hope you enjoy it. 

➝ playlist. 

Heavy gray clouds hung over your heads, the sounds of thunder announcing the coming of a storm; the weather matching your feelings once more. Everyone was dressed in black, holding white petal flowers on their hands, black bags under their eyes behind sunglasses.

You were dressed in all white. It was something you bought three years ago for a completely different occasion, and a rather happier one.

“You won’t be forgotten,” Jin said, placing his flowers above the coffin, delaying every one of his movements that led him back to your side.

You were deeply sorry for your brother. You felt as if the pain you carried on your chest for losing your best friend was nothing compared to what he must’ve felt when the love of his life died in his arms.

The mere thought of Jisoo’s body collapsing to the ground, Jin running towards her and staining his pink button up shirt with her blood was enough to leave you dizzy, trying to find somewhere to help you restore your balance.

Unfortunately, the only thing you found was your brother’s arm, and he couldn't possibly be the one you leaned for comfort yet. You forced yourself up, marching to face the closed casket, perfectly remembering what her face was like when she smiled, proud of you for doing something you were scared of.

 You didn't let the tears clouding your eyes fall, your nails digging crescent moons on your palm should be enough to keep you restrained until you were behind doors.

“You’re gonna be missed,” you spoke, resting your flowers on the place her hands were supposed to be, under the thick wood.

You went back to stand beside Jin, accepting his warm embrace as soon as he set eyes on your face, aware that your trembling lips and shaking figure had nothing to do with the cold weather.

The second worst thing was not being able to mourn the loss of your best friend. You wanted to scream, cry your eyes out and beg death to take you instead. But the only thing you could do was look slightly sad and detached from the whole event. Because although Jin was the face of the company, your brother and her husband, to the people with cameras behind the bushes, you were nothing more than one of Jisoo’s friends.

You’d been protected from all the spotlight of Kim Corp ever since you were born, simply because your father believed women weren't able to run a company, let alone one whose sole purpose was to mask the whole mafia scheme behind it. So you were treated as an outcast to the media, always in the background of photos, but never out of the headquarters, training day after day to take the leadership if things took a wrong turn, ever since you were seven.

It was your mother’s idea, you being the only second born of all the families with a seat on the council; the Kim’s secret weapon, she said. You existed for that sole reason, so you had to be the best. That meant you had to act a part, no matter how badly you wanted to let everything fall apart.

Weapons didn't cry over someone’s death. Weapons only did more damage.

┈

“Things changed,” Namjoon started, looking at everyone as he talked. “More people are going to come up against us and there'll be heavy press following the Kim’s each step. We gotta be careful now.”

“I’m looking through every city camera trying to find where they got rid of the car, but most of them have been erased at the time of the shooting,” Yoongi shared, the clenching of his jaw showing how frustrated he was.

“It's not gonna be easy, but we can't stop until we find them,” Namjoon continued, focusing with his gaze on Jin, a huge glint of empathy in his eyes. “The Dragons are probably the ones behind it, but we can't make a move unless we're certain of it.”

“I just want to kill the bastard who took the shot and whoever ordered the hit,” Jin told him, looking down at the table while he clenched his fists underneath the table. “The rest of them can get fucked for all I care about.”

“I gotta have my fun first, though.” Taehyung warned, his boxy grin not nearly resembling his thirst for blood and screams.

You laughed at his comment, nodding. You wanted to torture the motherfucker after you fucked with his whole family, just like he had done with her; eager to see him begging for mercy to come in the form of death. You wanted to be his personal devil and the face of his family’s nightmare for as long as they breathed. You wanted vengeance.

“I’ll delay the deals I have until the press lays off,” Jimin chimed in, biting his lip in deep thought. “But is two weeks maximum. Other than that, our risks and losses can grow irreparably.”

Namjoon nodded at his statement and focused on Hoseok, who only shrugged his shoulders because his targets wouldn't suffer a change. You wish you were a hitman, sometimes.

“____, you gotta be extra careful,” Jin said, turning to face you, his furrowed brows and slightly pouted lips. “The Dragons can't possible associate you as one of us, so you need to keep your distance.”

You sigh, knowing that there's no lie to his words, despite his worries as a brother. They only knew you were tied to Jin and Taehyung because of Jisoo, so her death should leave no connections left between you.

“If they took the shot, we have to assume they know how everyone functions in here, Jin,” Hoseok said, careful not to edge your brother. “It's stupidity to underestimate them.”

“So what? They know she’s the one with the responsibility to raise the whole empire from ashes once it crumbles?” Jungkook said, not once looking your way.

“Not exactly, but they probably have surveillance on each of us,” Yoongi said, shifting in his seat. “And if that's correct, they probably know that ____ isn't just one of Jisoo’s friends.”

“Of course she isn't, she's my soldier.” Taehyung joked, raising his hands for you to high-five.

You did.

“If they do stalk us, they know each of our steps so changing my routine will only confirm any of their suspicions,” you said, taking a deep breath.

“It's a risk we got maintain,” Namjoon analyzes, taking notes on his old diary.

Jin sighs loudly, not nearly calm enough to say something without breaking down. You stared at your lap as you intertwined your hands with his, drawing little circles on his skin, your way to tell him it was going to be okay.

“No changes on our schedules. Be extra careful and do not draw attention to yourselves.” Namjoon lingered his eyes on you as his last advice was pronounced.  

You nodded, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. Jungkook gave you a smirk, knowing how bad you hated to lie low.

Those were going to be a tough couple of weeks.

┈

“I’m thinking about going out tonight, what do you think?” Taehyung asked you when he was walking you back to your car.

“Where, though? We can't exactly be seen together.”

“Maybe that new club Jimin opened?” He pondered, opening the car door for you. “He told me it is going really well; many rich bitches around.”

“As long as he lets me drink his alcohol for free,” you shrugged, sliding to your seat and turning on the engine. “Text me later, whatever you decide.”

“See you later, kitten,” he said, kissing your cheek before he stepped away.

Taehyung was your best friend ever since you were four. He was the son of one of the three founders of Kim Corp, with the two other seats belonging to Namjoon’s father and yours. Taehyung was always sneaking his way to your room to play games, no matter how old you were. He spent whole nights cuddled with you, watching movies or just talking, with not a trace of shame for letting his mask of tough masculinity down. You knew his heart inside out, just as he knew yours. Taehyung was almost as close to Jisoo as you were, he understood how badly her sudden death hit you, without you having to say a word; they all did.

But you needed to be a weapon ready for destruction at any time, unlike them. The darkness inside of you had to be stronger than anything and your first response, no matter how badly it hurt. You felt relieved when Taehyung asked you to go out because a sea of sweaty drunk bodies was exactly what you needed to get your mind out of blood and tears.

┈

The first thing you did when you got to Jimin’s new club was search for your best friend’s ass. You couldn't deal with all the bodies filling the dance floor or the average fucked up man trying to get in your pants. A wave of relief struck you once you saw Taehyung, his silver hair standing out from the crowd, his back facing you from the VIP Area. Jimin was quick to notice you, waving his hand as he made his way to you.

“I’m glad you showed up,” he said, kissing your cheek and resting his hands on your bare back, escorting you.

“I’m surprised with how packed it is for a Wednesday night,” you told him, looking all the dancing bodies entranced by the beat.

“Rich bitches want good-looking people and high quality drugs, baby,” Jimin smirked, whispering the last part on your ear. “I happily offer them both things.”

“How many of them have you fucked?” You laughed, your head pointing to the girls sitting on the black leather couch, dresses as short as the white lines left on the table in front of them.

“None, actually,” he confessed and you almost whistled at his self-control, and then he laughed.“I just met them.”

That was Park Jimin, the best drug dealer and gun trafficker in the country that looked more like a model straight out of a fashion magazine, with a fucked up personality and an undying love for adrenaline. You would’ve slapped his ass if you weren't in public.

“Namjoon’s gonna be happy when he finds out you can’t keep your dick dry for two weeks,” you teased, pinching his hips.

“Girls like them can't threaten a fly, baby,” he chanted, leaving his hand on your waist.

“You’d say the same thing about me if you met me tonight, Jimin,” you warned him, lowering your voice and giving the girls your most menacing look as you approached them, replacing their silent threats with fear. “Just be careful.”

“Kitten!” Taehyung exclaimed, getting up to hug you.

As he wrapped you in his clothed arms, you let your gaze fall on the rest of the people in the area, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes when they laid on Jungkook, a girl in his lap and another one licking his lips.

“What are you drinking?” you asked Taehyung, taking a sip of his cup before he could answer.

Whiskey and coke on the rocks. Sometimes you forgot how much of a lightweight he was. You forced yourself to look around the room again, desperate to find something of your taste lying around.

“Here.”

You saw the transparent drink that filled the glass, inhaling the scent of the vodka before you forced yourself to look at him. Jungkook smiling as he offered you your favorite drink, completely ignoring obscene words leaving the girl’s mouth was a sight that almost had you choked, leaving Taehyung to laugh quietly in his seat.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the cup and a large sip of the vodka, turning your back to him.

“Children,” you heard Jimin tease, rolling his eyes before returning his attention to one of the girls he shared with Taehyung.

You turned to face the dance floor, not at all interested in the orgy about to happen as soon as they left the room. But at least you were glad that the one thing Jimin forbid in his clubs was any type of recording devices. Surprisingly, that also was one of the reasons why his clubs were always packed; there was something exciting and relaxing about being able to do anything without the risk of it coming up outside those walls.

It was nice to see how people danced without care to the beat, just moving with their own flow. You didn't have to see to know that most of the couples on the floor would soon be banging each other's brains out behind the bathroom stalls, with no punishment for it as long as it was consensual.

Freedom ran free inside.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, breaking you out of your thoughts. It was warm, calloused and you didn't have to turn to know it was him, but you still turn your head halfway to his, not looking in his face.

“How are you?” Jungkook asked and you knew he was closer than before by the warmness that radiated beside you, his breath almost hitting the side of your neck uncovered by your hair.

You had to look around the area to realize that while you were in deep thought, Jimin and Taehyung disappeared to one of the rooms, taking the three girls with them. Jungkook probably asked his bitches to leave too.

“I’m pissed, to be honest,” you said, allowing yourself to rest back on the couch, your sides barely brushing his.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His eyes on your face, aware to any trace of lie.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” you told him, flashing a light smile he reciprocated.

He got up and took your hand, making your way out of the club to somewhere quieter. The simple thought of venting to someone had you feeling better, even if it went against everything you were taught.

Some people fucked their way through their problems, some drank and others felt the need for violence. You only got better after you talked it out, and you were glad that Jungkook still knew that.

┈

You were sitting on the doorsteps of Jungkook’s house, having passed a traffic light quicker than him, arriving first. The air was slightly cold, making you shiver a little and curse your choice of clothes, that was way more appropriate for the inside of a club. You wrapped your arms around yourself when he parked his car in the driveway, getting up as he unlocked his door.

For a mobster, it was incredibly funny that Jungkook lived in the suburb. There was something almost domestic with the way he kept his plants alive, aesthetically pleasing to the eye, decorating the porch.

He motioned for you to follow as he took a step inside, careful to lock the door behind you and set the alarm back on. There was no such thing as too much precaution.

“Do you want something to drink?” Jungkook asked, walking to the kitchen with you trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

“I don’t know, maybe some water.”

“What about tea?” He asked and your vigorous nod had him chuckling, turning his back to you, preparing your drinks.

You glanced around, letting the memories flood you. The table set for ten, his garden well tended and the wall-to-wall window with a view to his backyard, grass and trees perfectly trimmed. Everything was the same as when you left, except for you and him.

“You can go upstairs if you like,” he told you, following your gaze to the backyard as he pointed towards his room. “I’ll be done in a moment.”

“Okay,” you told him, backing off the wall and towards the wooden stairs.

It surprised you how easy it was to be back. You still knew your way around his house, but you chose to blame that on his hate for change that made him keep the place the same as the one from two years ago; it was easier than accept your mind had wandered its way back a few times.

You turned the doorknob to his room and went in, not minding his messy bed sheets and dirty clothes disposed on the floor, almost running to the glass sliding doors that gave you full view of the street, behind them a simple balcony, with the most comfortable couch in the world and a round wooden table.

Sliding the doors, you slipped outside, quickly setting yourself on the sofa, not at all minding the cold of the night against your skin. Nothing would keep you away from remembering the place you used to call home.

It was comforting to run your eyes across the street, watching the calm neighborhood Jungkook had found for himself. Toys and bicycles laid on some lawns, lights inside the houses helping the lamp posts illuminate the street, the patterns of some trees painted with black charcoal on the lane.

Jungkook took his seat next to you, leaving your mug on the table and lying one of his hoodies on your lap, without saying a word. You smiled at his kind gesture, putting it on before taking a sip of the tea.

“So, how are you?” He asked once again, crossing one of his legs under his thigh, turning to have full view of your face.

“Like shit,” you sighed, lowering your gaze to your lap. “I can’t wrap my head around what happened, or why.”

“I guess none of us do,” he said, careful not to express his own concerns.

“You know how she was always dressed in black or red?” You asked him, looking back at him as he nodded his head, a faint smile painting his lips. “Well, when we were younger Jisoo used to joke she would die the day she wore white.”

“I heard that a few times too,” he laughed, not a trace of amusement on his voice. “She said that she only accepted white at funerals, because-”

“It matched the aesthetic,” you finished with him, almost being able to hear her voice.

It was almost as if Jisoo had seen it before it happened. Of course people could joke about their death, but the thing was that she got it exactly right. Jisoo had a crush on your brother ever since you were little, and when he decided to finally cave in and give her a chance when they were both teenagers, she used to tell you that she would die if they ever got married, because her heart wouldn't be capable of handling so much love.

Kim Jisoo died a few seconds after saying “I do” to Jin, with a shot straight to the heart, her blood staining her white lace dress immediately.

“I can't help but think I could've done more, you know,” you take another gulp to help with the pressure you felt around your throat. “That I could’ve saved her if I had listened to my gut.”

“Her death is not your fault,” Jungkook was quick to assure you, coming a little closer and forcing you to look at him in the process.

“I told everyone there was something wrong, I felt that,” you sighed. “The only thing my mother told me not to doubt was my instinct, and the first time I did it my best friend ended up dead.”

“There was no way you could know what was going to happen. If you blame yourself for her death, you should blame the rest of us too.”

“You don't get it, Jungkook,” you almost cried out, forcing the tears not to fall as you forced yourself to breath.

“Then explain it to me,” he begged, brushing his fingers on your knees as a form of reassurance.

“I was trained to spot threats before they even became one, but the moment I needed to be completely right, I fucked up and dismissed my gut,” you were crying now, feeling useless for not being able to uphold your only purpose in life. “I’m the one supposed to watch your backs, but I fucked up and that costed her life; her death is on me.”  

He didn't tell you anything, simply wrapping you in his embrace, stuffing your face to his chest as one of his hands found its to your hair whilst he kept the other on your back, drawing small triangle patterns.

You allowed yourself to cry, unable to keep your feelings restrained. Jungkook only hugged you tighter, wishing he could take your pain away but not knowing how. He tried to push his own ache aside, unwilling to burden you further.

“We protect each other,” he started when your crying began to cease. “I know you think you gotta be stronger and unfailing every time, but that's not true.”

You didn’t back away from his chest, snuggling into the crook of his neck, welcoming his cologne to cloud your senses. Although the pain of losing Jisoo still hurt you, you felt a little better in his arms. You had forced yourself to forget, but now you couldn't help but realize how much you’ve missed him.

“You’re not just a weapon, despite what your parents taught you,” Jungkook assured you, kissing the top of your head. “You’re a fucking human being entitled to make mistakes, to be selfish and to-”

“I miss you so much,” you interrupted him, your voice weak and choked. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and backing away just enough to look at your face.

“I miss you too,” he told you, caressing your cheeks as he leaned his forehead against yours.

It’s been two years since you had him this close. And despite what you told yourself, you’ve missed him every day since then. Jungkook and you got close when Jimin finally settled on someone to help with his dealings, with you being forced to show him how everything was supposed to work inside Bangtan.

He was so damn attractive holding a gun against targets, not missing a single headshot. The way his muscles flexed and his bangs moved when he hit the punching bag over and over again, sweat dripping down his chin and low grunts coming out of his mouth, never failing to make you hold your breath in. But your favorite moments where when he gave you his bunny smile when you praised him on something, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink, the tips of his ears a burning red and his does eyes locked onto yours before he made a sassy comeback, making it your turn to blush.  

Taehyung wasn’t even slightly surprised when he walked in on you fucking in the training room, admitting it was bound to happen sometime. Jungkook and you were like rabbits, boning at every chance you got, wherever you were. Although the relationship you had was more than just sex, it didn't mean that both of you were ready to be tied down. He had girls on the side and, even if you no longer had threesomes with Taehyung and Jimin, you still fucked around with random people. His line of work didn't exactly allow him to care for someone either, since they usually ended up being a target for some rival attack.

You broke up with him after a few months, listening to Jin’s advice and redoing all your steps to avoid bumping into Jeon Jungkook. But he was one of the eight people that had a voice in Bangtan, so you would end up seeing each other a few times, forcing yourselves to ignore the history between you both.

However, with his warmth keeping you shielded from the cold, his intoxicating cologne drowning you and the force with which his heart beat in his chest, making you hear it so clearly, all made it completely impossible. You felt the way his arms wrapped against your skin, so tightly as if he was afraid you could disappear from before his eyes, the same ones that had such a longing behind them, carving into yours.

You did exactly what you wanted to do ever since he walked up to the meeting room the day after you broke up with him, with countless hickeys on his neck, dark circles under his eyes and a stinking smell of sweat, booze and sex. You leaned in and claimed him, letting your lips fall on his, lightly with the fear of rejection.

But he kissed you back, so proud and eager, crashing on your lips and claiming your mouth with his, as if you were the water he so desperately needed after days wandering in the desert. His touch against your cheek was now rough against your neck, pulling bits of hair to keep you closer, his fingers almost bruising your waist.

Your heart was about to explode in your chest with how frantic its beatings were. You pushed his back to the couch, quickly settling your legs on both sides of him, hanging above Jungkook as he only deepened the kiss, fighting for control. You got lower and started grinding against his lap, and despite the need he felt to hold your hips down and move his own against yours, he only holds your hips to push you up, detaching himself from you.

“What-,”

“I want this a lot,” he interrupted you before you could question him or yourself, moving you back to your initial position. “But I don't want it to happen because you’re fucked up with your feelings.”

“It has nothing to do with my feelings, Jungkook,” you told him, fixing the hoodie he gave you.

“It has nothing to do ours either, love,” he pointed out the way you were unconsciously using him to forget your guilt. “I want you, don't ever doubt that. But you gotta figure yourself out first.”

You sighed, knowing he was right. Before you met Jungkook you had a thing for fixing up your problems through sex. He taught you a better way, claiming he had to do the same thing and it was better like that. You didn't disagree; it ceased your worries with unexpected pregnancies and STDs.

“How about we go in?” He offered, fixing the locks of your hair he had messed up. “You can lay down, and we can talk about whatever you want to.”

“Can I be under the covers?” you asked him, already getting up and making your way to his bed. “It’s a bit cold.”

You sat on the edge of his bed as he picked up the mugs and closed the sliding doors, not worrying about closing the curtains too. He put both the cups on his dresser, moving to block your view of the window.

“You’re blocking my sight from the moon, jackass,” you told him, trying to push him off as you looked to the moon and the way it illuminated its way inside the houses, quick flickers of light when it shone against metallic objects.

“I’m the sun, what the fuck do you want-”

“Watch out!”

You screamed as you pushed him to the ground as the wall-to-wall window shattered to pieces, quick to grab the gun he always kept on his back and pointing it back to the place the shot had come from, struggling to find cover and a clear view against the wall.

You moved to the balcony once you heard tires speeding on the street, not being able to take a clear shot of whoever drove the black Range Rover. You cursed yourself, looking around for any traces left of danger on the neighborhood, unable to find one.

“Get your keys, we have a fucking-”

You stopped on your tracks when you saw Jungkook still lay down on the floor, a pool of blood forming around his chest and the ground. You dropped to your knees by his side, desperately calling out his name as you struggle to find Yoongi’s number on your contacts, the other hand pressing down on Jungkook’s chest as a way to stop the bleeding.

“Jungkook was shot,” you told Yoongi when he picked up at the first tone, your phone between your shoulder and your head as you struggled to find a pulse and talk through your sobs. “I don't know if he’s alive. Come quick.” You let your phone fall down when you heard the call end, allowing your tears to fall, fast and painful.

As your thoughts began to rush and your hands pressed down harder, you could only feel guilt swallowing you again because you had failed. And this time there was no gut to put the blame on, only you.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

The Dancing Doctor

Susan Swatland, from her book, Escape from the Moonies Chapter 5

THE CUSTOM-BUILT Mercedes stopped outside the Moonies’ Georgian mansion in Hearst Street, [Berkeley]. Two huge Korean bodyguards climbed out and surveyed the scene. Then satisfied that all was safe, they escorted Dr Mose Durst and his wife Onni up the steps of the mansion. Durst was looking very dapper in an expensive powder-blue suit with matching shoes, but it was his Korean wife who caught the eye. She was wearing a fabulous white fur coat which contrasted with her shoulder-length silky black hair, and as she held up her hands, diamonds and rubies glittered under the lights.

They took off their shoes in the hall and donned golden slippers. As they walked into the lecture room, arm in arm, we all chorused, ‘Oh, Onni and Abba, thank Heavenly Father for your goodness in guiding us.’ Onni is Korean for Elder Sister; and Abba for Father.

They smiled and nodded in the manner of an emperor and empress; and in this company, that’s what they were. Durst was the President of the Unification Church and perhaps a bit more besides. For now that the Reverend Moon had retreated to his Tarrytown mansion in Westchester County, Durst was beginning to emerge as the movement’s new star. The Moonies, under fire from the media, wanted a fresh image and Durst, the amiable professor of English with his jokey Jewish ways, fitted that image rather well. It was Onni who had first seen the possibilities in this mild-mannered man. She charmed him, wooed him, married him and groomed him for power. And according to the Moonies who lived in the Dursts’ Avalon mansion, it was still Onni who controlled him.

Mose (pronounced Mosa) is the son of Russian immigrants and grew up in the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn, New York. He is a graduate of the City University of New York and a graduate fellow of Cambridge University. And up until 1972, he was a professor of English at Laney College in Oakland, California ... a lonely, disillusioned man who had just been divorced, retaining custody of his two sons, Tinker and Tim. That was the year when one of his students (a Moonie convert) invited him to dinner at the house of Onni Soo Lim, the supposed founder of the Unification Church on the West Coast. Onni was then at the peak of her beauty, a very exotic lady, and the college professor was seemingly overwhelmed. They were married two months later in a special Korean wedding ceremony performed by Moon. That break in the normal pattern of the Church is an indication of the importance of Onni and also of their plans for Durst. A professor was a considerable catch for the Moonies and his rise was rapid. He became state director of the Moonies in North California and then the Church’s President.

It was an odd boardroom shuffle, because the Moonies already had a president named Neil Salonen who was very close to Moon. So one had to assume that the factions behind Durst were powerful ones indeed.

His plump face, bifocals and easy laugh gave him a fatherly look. He was a sentimental man, easily moved to tears, and much loved by the rank and file members. His college background gave him a certain kinship with many of the new recruits who had come from the campus. And he always seemed that bit more subject to human frailty than the other Moonie leaders. There was, for instance, his habit of raiding the kitchen for cookies in the early hours of the morning, a habit frowned upon in the Church. Any food taken before noon is said to encourage Satan. By some ill chance Durst always seemed to be bumping into somebody else also hunting for cookies in the dark. But there were never angry reproaches, only laughter.

He was fond of singing the songs of the Thirties and he would croon them in the style of a latter-day Bing Crosby. Sometimes on special occasions he would dance while a fiddler played and then he could look very Jewish, very amusing. The Divine Principle preaches the message that the Jews betrayed Jesus and this is why Korea has become the new Holy Land. And Moon has frequently been accused of being anti-semitic. But Durst made no attempt to hide his Jewish background. On the contrary, he sprinkled his conversation with Yiddish. Somebody would be meshuga (crazy), somebody else schlemiel (a jerk) and most of his jokes were Jewish too. He was an easy man to like and the media soon discovered that too. He handled them with a smooth, relaxed, professional expertise that paid dividends.

‘Hey,’ he said to one reporter, ‘we’re just like the rest of the crowd. We don’t eat babies and sleep on nails.’ When asked about the Moonies’ dream of a perfect world, he said, ‘It won’t be all that much different to the one we have now.

‘The sun will still rise in the morning and set in the evening. It will still be a place where the Yankees can win the pennant and Reggie Jackson can hit home runs. But it will be a world of greater tolerance, self-respect and greater spirit of love guiding personal relationships.’ Pressed on the thorny subject of the Moonies’ business empire, he shrugged. ‘If you want to hold up standards, let’s hold them up across the board. There is a church in America that makes approximately a billion dollars a year just through bingo games.’ He didn’t say so, but he meant the Catholics.

Asked why the movement had generated so much hate, he held out his palms. ‘Maybe it’s because we’re the new kids on the block. I really don’t know. You tell me. I just don’t understand it. To know us is to love us.’ He paused, smiled his gentle fatherly smile and said, ‘If we help an old lady across the street, they’ll say she didn’t want to go.’

It was all good stuff and so often reporters who had come with a hatchet job in mind went away wondering whether they had perhaps been wrong after all.

No one was more aware of Durst’s good public image than Onni. ...

But despite the sweetness, despite the sentimentality, the good professor had a very sinister side to his nature. He hadn’t only taught English at college. He had a Ph.D in psychology too and had become an expert in mind control. The indoctrination methods used in the Californian camps of the Moonies are more effective, more far-reaching and consequently more harmful than those used by the cult in any other part of the Western World. Project Volunteer, the smokescreen which led me, and thousands like me, astray was his brainchild.

His personal lifestyle has become almost as extravagant as that of Moon himself. His Avalon estate, known as The Gardens, has seven bedrooms, a four-car garage, sauna, pool, cabana, a superb view over San Francisco bay and the kind of luxurious Oriental furnishings that only the very rich could even dream about. His cars are Lincolns and Mercedes, the carriages of the Moonie upper-echelon.

One of my favourite people, Joe Alexander, once saw Durst with Onni, the Moons and the Salonens in a Las Vegas casino. Joe had a former Moonie named Jeff Scales with him at the time; and Jeff like so many of us had really loved Mose Durst. Now he just stood there unable for a moment to believe the evidence of his own eyes. Joe, an opportunist, asked a girl photographer to take a picture of the group. Unfortunately the girl attempted to get Moon’s permission and was angrily waved away. A few minutes later the Messiah and his party made a hasty exit.

Durst’s small sons from his previous marriage, Tinker and Tim, were staying at Aetna Springs while I was there; and they were two lonely little fellows. Onni considered them so fallen, so Satanic, that she couldn’t bear to touch them. I have always loved children and so I used to spend as much time as I could with them; but this wasn’t encouraged. Being Abba’s sons, they were supposed to be segregated from the rank and file. Tinker, the youngest, had broken his arm and used to spend much of the day playing with the camp dogs. He was always asking for his father, but Durst rarely had the time to make those boyhood wishes come true.

And yet this seemingly kindly man had oceans of time for us his followers. He knew the names and the faces of us all; and on that day at Hearst Street as he walked slowly down the aisle, his head was turning constantly. He looked into my eyes and smiled as he went by. And this was part of his secret. He made each and every one of us feel very special.

We had prepared lots of little delicacies for Onni and Abba, a variety of home-made sweets, biscuits, little cakes and ginseng tea.

Durst, in a mock aside, warned, ‘You mustn’t tempt Onni too much. She’s watching her weight.’ He paused, gave a rueful grin and said, ‘I think I’ll be in trouble when I get home tonight.’

He glanced towards his wife, realised she wasn’t amused and hastily changed the subject.

His talk, like all his talks, was a mixture of everything we had heard before, but laced with Jewish jokes and high good humour. When he’d finished he sang ‘Only For You’ which we knew to be one of his favourite songs. He sang it in the manner of a poor man’s Frank Sinatra; and all the sisters clutched their hearts, sighed and even squealed just like the bobbysoxers we’d seen in the old newsreels. He was so delighted that he thought of doing an encore, then changed his mind and it wasn’t hard to see the reason why.

Onni’s face was set like stone.

Onni Durst – The Dragon Lady

[moczothe1st]

Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 28:  Eddafication

Part 27

Welcome back to FEIV! For those who have been following us all this way, you’re about to be rewarded. Last week we avenged Seliph’s dad, and this week we get to avenge his mother and save his sister (PLATONICALLY).  That’s right, the invasion of Grannvale is about to come to its inevitable conclusion with the Second Battle of Belhalla. Seliph vs. Julius, prince vs. prince, brother vs. brother (though Julius would insist we say ‘alleged brother’). Without further ado, let’s rock this!

His army’s victories are a beacon of hope to the Empire’s victims, and a wave of further rebellions sweeps across Jugdral.  First, Silesse was wrestled back from Imperial control by its citizens, and soon after Agustria’s people flocked to arms, burning to fight for their country.

(Convenient!)

But Grannvale itself yet stands.

(If you’re having trouble keeping track, and I don’t blame you, Dozel is the house of Lex, Johan, and good old dead Langbalt. Brian here is Johan’s oldest brother and the current holder of their house’s Holy Weapon, the Helswath axe.)

(Oh God, not these idiots again.  Yes, Scorpius is the son of good old uber-douche Andre, making him cousin to Patty, Faval, Lana, and Lester.)  

… and the capital. Belhalla itself is shrouded under and eerie silence,

(It says something that I’ve beaten Ishtar without any problems twice now, and yet my stomach still falls at the sight of her.  As for the Deadlords, they’re a recurring FE miniboss squad; twelve undead warriors animated to serve the cult of the week. I believe this is their first appearance. They’ll be dropping in this map to make Julius just that much more of a bastard.)

Over a year has passed since the fateful first battle in Isaach. The tragic struggle pitting kin against kin wears on, splitting the heirs of the Twelve Crusaders between the light and dark…

So begins the final holy war.

Julius: Feh. I almost feel sorry for him. All his life he was your tool, Manfroy, only to be thrown away so casually.

(I agree. Arvis was definitely a tool.)

Manfroy: All in your empire’s name, Your Majesty. Arvis was a lost cause. To think he, a man of Loptyr’s bloodline, dared to challenge the revival of your empire! The heart of the Crusader Vala burned too fiercely within him. It was only a matter of time until he turned on you.

Julius: I know, I know… now then, I hear those rebels have stumbled as far as Chalphy. Are our defenses really that pathetic?

Manfroy: Rest assured. I’ve already tasked Edda’s Bishop Rodan and Brian of Dozel with purging Chalphy of those vermin. You’ve no need to worry, Your Majesty.

Julius: Don’t I, now.  

(Julius stands strong in the absolute contempt he holds for his own minions, at least.)

Julius:  Now, where is Julia?

Manfroy: She awaits your whim in the dungeon… you there! Bring us Princess Julia!

Julius: Oho! So you do remember me! I can hardly believe seven long years have passed since you slipped away.

Julia: I… that night is seared in my memory now, as if it was only yesterday.

Julius: Fehehehe… good. I trust you remember your mother’s final kindness as well?

Julia: Who… no what are you? That night… the night Manfroy came bearing that eerie black tome… nothing was ever the same again. My brother, the kind and caring boy I loved so, died that night. In his place stood a demon of terrifying power… my brother in name only. You… you monster… you’ve taken my mother and my brother from me!  Who are you? WHAT are you?!  Why… why do you torment us all so?!

Julius: I am the heir to Loptyr’s blood, and the inheritor of his limitless power. This world rightfully belongs to me.

(Remember this moment, because it’s very, very important.)

Julius: Using Naga’s power to serve me? Interesting. Very interesting! Very well. I must return to Belhalla, Julia is yours, Manfroy. But be warned. Be extremely careful! Even a single mistake with her could cost me dearly.

Bishop Disposable: Cavalry unit, move in on Chalphy! Reclaim our land from the rebels!

Lewyn: That’s what this is. Julius is descended from Loptyrian royalty, and he’s been working to revive the dark empire. No matter what, we must stop him.

Seliph: It feels as if you know everything, Lewyn. I’m beginning to feel left out… please, what in the world are you talking about?

(Well, about ten chapters too late, but he at least finally asked.)

Lewyn: Yeah, sorry about that, Seliph. I know there’s a lot I haven’t been telling you.

(“And what I do tell you tends to be rambling and obnoxious.”)

Lewyn: I’ve spent over a decade on a journey to figure out the truth behind all this, and I’m finally onto a hidden bigger picture here.

Seliph: The bigger picture…?

Lewyn: The founder of the old Loptyr Empire, Bishop Galle, dedicated his youth to a world-exploring voyage across the sea. He desired nothing less than to drink the blood of a legendary beast. Even a single drop, he believed, would bestow upon any human limitless power.

(How… … … … evil?)

Seliph: Do… do you mean the dragonkin of old? It couldn’t be… is that not a myth?

(“I mean, dark gods and holy weapons of divinity, sure, but dragons? Let’s not get weird here, Lewyn.”)

Lewyn: I thought so too, but… when Galle returned home, he bore bizarre powers nobody else understood. With these powers, he set to work swaying youths across the land to aid his ambitions.

(Wait, he swayed them? He didn’t kill them for funsies? Because that doesn’t sound like Loptyr.)

Lewyn: Before anyone realized, he’d raised a fell legion unflinchingly loyal to his cause.

(Okay, that sounds like Loptyr.)

Seliph: Where, then, does Loptyr enter the tale?

(………… It’s so frustrating to always be twenty steps ahead of the main character in following the plot.)

Lewyn: I believe that Loptyr is the dragon Galle bonded with. All of his heirs since then have inherited the dragon’s blood, and the dark powers Loptyr’s kin command are nothing more than the dragonkin’s powers.

Seliph: And what of the Crusaders?

Lewyn: You know the legend. The gods descended upon twelve warriors of the old liberators at the fortress of Darna. But…

Seliph: But?

Lewyn: Sorry, Seliph, but this will have to wait. The enemy’s approaching.

(LEWYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYN!)

All right.  Since Lewyn couldn’t take ten more seconds to finish up the story, and since I’m gonna guess you can probably make some safe assumptions as to where this is going.  Let’s deal with the whole ‘war’ thing first. First, of course, it’s time to see who makes the cut. This is probably the hardest chapter in the game, so dead weight will not be tolerated. Anyone who disappoints me in the arena is fucking out, you guys. You get to stay in the castle with Hannibal, hiding while the awesome people solve the problems. Do not fail me.

Seliph: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Strength, +1 Speed, +1 Magic, +1 Luck, +1 Resistance

Shanan:  Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Magic, +1 Luck, +2 Defense

Oifey: Six wins, gained three levels: +3 HP, +2 Luck, +1 Defense. Hmmm… not amazing, but also not bad. And when I gave you a pass last week you surprised me with quality, so hey, I’ll allow it. You can always defend a different castle if you don’t pan out.

Ulster: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Speed, +2 Defense

Larcei: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Speed, +1 Luck, +2 Defense

Lana: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +2 Skill, +2 Luck

Lester: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +2 Skill, +1 Magic

Dermott: Seven wins, gained three levels: +3 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Luck, +1 Defense, +2 Resistance

Nanna: Seven wins, gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Luck, +1 Defense, +1 Resistance

Fee: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Skill, +2 Strength, +1 Magic, +1 Luck, +1 Defense

Ced: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +2 Skill

Arthur: Seven wins, gained three levels: +4 HP, +1 Luck, +1 Defense

Tinni: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Luck

Patty: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Magic, +1 Luck, +1 Defense, +1 Resistance

Faval: Seven wins, gained two levels: +4 HP, +2 Luck, +1 Resistance

Leif: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Speed, +1 Luck

Altena: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP.  Altena, if you didn’t already have generally great stats and a golden spear of the gods, I would drop you right now.  

Johan: Five wins, gained one level: +1 HP. Yeah, see, Johan? The difference between you and Altena is that she’s amazing and you’re just kind of okay. You’re benched, and Leif is going to put that Brave Axe to better use than you literally ever have.  

Finn: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Luck, +1 Defense

Ares: Seven wins, gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Luck

Hannibal: Six wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Strength. Oh, Hannibal.  I honestly am rather shocked you did better than Johan, but I’m afraid you didn’t do better enough.  Patty and Ulster will enjoy your swords quite a bit.

Welp, those weren’t great levels in many unfortunate cases, but we’re approaching the point a lot of people can’t get good levels anymore, I guess. Let’s take a look at the map!

It’s a big one, but we’re locked out of a large chunk of it, as usual. We start off in Chalphy on the far south, and our final goal will be Belhalla to the far north; the reason the map looks different from our last assault on Belhalla is that we’re approaching it from the opposite direction.  For right now, we can only proceed east from our starting location to Edda (formerly the duchy run by our old buddy Bishop Claude). Let’s try and give it to his kids!  But before that, we start off with Loptyrian dark mages on the cliffs above us on both sides, armed with siege tomes and our old friend status effect staves. There’s two villages on the map and I think no bandits ever go for them, so no need to rush anywhere; let’s make ourselves safe above all else.  

Good start. Of the eight mages surrounding us, we killed six, severely hurting their ability to bombard us. In particular I got all the staff users, meaning it will all be nicely healable damage, and I’ve got like seven high-tier healers running at this point. End turn!

Not bad again! Fee cripples another mage on the counterattack, and Lester somehow dodges an infinite blue void. The Edda cavalry force also comes close to us, but we aren’t in anyone’s range on their end, and we are in a great position to make them regret approaching us. First step, though, is to clear out the last two mages.

… I can’t reach the last one. I’m a dumbass, I should have sent one flier to each group of mages, but I didn’t. Altena runs over in his direction to break him in half next turn, while everyone else takes their shot at the main enemy army.  

…. Shit.  Finn, what was that, exactly? *sigh* Ares, clean up his mess.

I hate you, Ares.

Okay, not great. Finn is in serious trouble here, and while I have him surrounded, I do think there’s someone who can take a shot at him.  God, if I have to reset on the second turn I will be so ticked off, Finn. I will send you to the bench and give your lance to Altena, Finn. She’s a beautiful flying death machine.

End turn.

*phew*

I always love watching someone dodge a siege tome. They’re just this huge screen-filling doom effect and the target just kind of lightly steps back, and then they miss.

Now then, time to end this before Finn can fail me again. Guys, finish off the first wave!

Larcei, if you’re going to get a completely weird unlikely stat, make it Resistance instead of Magic. You can actually use Resistance.

Still, Edda is now open to attack. Of course it has its own issues, in the form of just… just every fuckin’ mage.

God, just look at that mess. And the worst part is that every single one of those magical jerks? Has a long distance option, either a siege tome or a… ugh… sleep staff. So really, the best strategy I have is to send Ares and Seliph in to be anti-magic gods and shrug off magic whilst killing the staff guys.  Fee could go in without worrying about magic too, but those three snipers in the front row who could shoot her down like a stray duck have other ideas.  Oh, and Nanna gains a staff level to top her off at 30.

Yeah, that’s about what I expect from her. I am not sure but I suspect her strength, defense, and speed at her cap, at least. Maybe? I should look that up but I’m tired and I’d rather just end my turn and destroy the enemy.

And after that, insert about fifteen more shots of people missing Ares with siege tomes. Ares gives precisely zero shits about your Bolting, guys.  Everyone takes the shot and nobody comes close. It’s almost sad. Almost.

On my turn, I have the Horse Boys move slightly up and kill two of the snipers, with eventual intent to let Fee help their dumb horse faces out.

Seliph also got one but I wasn’t paying attention and saved over it, whoops. So one archer left to deal with next turn. I also have Cairpre start moving up, and he wakes Ulster up so he can move back. Then Lene dances her brother to send him another run forward to join in too.

End turn! Enjoy some more scenes of Ares and Seliph just rocking the shit out for awhile.

… Who even are you…?

Well, nobody threatening, anyway.  

*Insert 20 shots of horses lightly backstepping out of the way of fireballs and lightning bolts*

That was nice. Now, Seliph moves up and takes out one of the staff guys, Fee and Patty step up to clear out things for our air force, and Ares kills whats-his-name.  

…. Wait, what?

FUCK. Reset.  

Okay. This ass is way more dangerous than I remembered or gave him credit for, clearly. So let’s try the cautious approach. Lana, care to spend some of your boyfriend’s money?

See, that’s a little more what I was aiming for. Honestly, hiding a Swordmaster with Sol, Pursuit, Critical, and Adept in among everyone else? That’s just mean.  

… In other words, I feel like I’m playing Fire Emblem again!  The last few maps were just too nice, barring Julius’s crazy psycho games and Arvis being Arvis. Fun times. Cairpre runs up and grabs Patty out of horrible murder range with his Rescue staff, and: end turn!

Yeah, Ares, you better succeed here. You’re on thin ice, buddy.

At this point, the staff dudes are mostly in range, so it’s time to start moving up a little and purging them.

Be-au-ti-ful!  Though like, half of them are still alive, even if I took away some leadership stars by removing Bishop Not Paying Attention to Morals. I may regret this. *sob* End turn…

Well, that was ugly, but nobody died. Still quite a few people have taken heavy hits… shame there’s not like, a huge HP reset button that can undo it all immediately.

Hehehehehehehe.

Okee dokee!  That’s the first army down. There’s…. *sigh* there’s more armies.  This is gonna get worse before it gets better, folks, so let’s just take Edda and end-a the update. (And I’m not just cutting this short because Red Dead 2 and Hitman 2 came out back to back, why would you even say that.  … Also this wasn’t actually very short, between the six-thousand enemies and Ares getting mangled.)

*sob*

Lewyn: Oh, of course. Cairpre and Lene. They’re going to be great rulers for Edda.

(… … … Are they?)

Lewyn: And after all they’ve been through, I know that’ll bring a smile to the people’s faces.

(Well, Lene is basically a stripper, so that part is probably true.)

All right, Homeland One, liberated! Join us next week when we continue our tour of the nation with Dozel and Freege, homeland of some of Grannvale’s greatest and most beloved nobles.

Yeah, it may be best to just burn those ones down.  

See you next week!  

Total Resets: 28. And I was doing so well, damn it.

Part 29

[plotbunnyshipper]

Book Recommendations

Instead of writing I’ve been spending my time re-reading so many of my favorites in my free snippets of time. I figure I’ll list a few in case anyone might feel the need for picking up a new book that may become one of their favorites.

Fantasy is always a favorite of mine in its many sub-genres, also first person storytelling is not a requirement but helps for immersion in the story when done well. And listing these out and going over them again it just reinforces my love of snark and sarcasm and antiheros.

I also have zero hesitation about starting a series a few books in, or in the middle and then going through everything else. (Did this with Black Jewels Series, Chronicles of the Shadow War, The Hollows). Tend to have a lot of YA in here because I grabbed lots of random when I was younger, and nowadays don’t get to read as much brand new other than new authors on Ao3.

List here (not in any sort of order), details below the cut. When the whole/most of series is fantastic I try to list the series rather than the individual book. If you see some in here that you also love and want to suggest a few not listed back at me, please feel free. Even if these aren’t ones you know or love, feel free to recommend, here or in an ask, even an anon one. I love reading, I’m not grabbing as much random published as I used to but published or online, it’s all good. I still remember the first fanfic author that I adored. To this day I’ll still go back and reread the Sailor Moon fic she wrote because it was just that good, so really. This list is by no means complete, they’re just the ones I have on my Kindle and closest bookshelf.

Chronicles of the Shadow War by Chris Claremont and George Lucas

Uprooted by Naomi Novik 

Queen’s Thief Series by Megan Whalen Turner

Various throughout the designations below by Neil Gaiman

Neverveil series by Amy McNulty  

The Sleeping Prince Series by Melinda Salisbury

The Sin Eater’s Daughter by Melinda Salisbury

Red Queen series by Victoria Aveyard

Fairy Keeper by Amy Bearce

The Enchanted Forest series by Patricia C Wrede

The Raven Ring by Patricia C. Wrede

Anne McCaffery - Harper Hall/Pern series, Tower and Hive series, Acorna series

The Black Jewels Series by Anne Bishop

Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Three Dark Crowns series by Kendare Blake

Necromancer/Firebug Series by Lish McBride

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

The Hollows by Kim Harrison

Enchantment by Orson Scott Card

The Others Series by Anne Bishop

Georgina Kincaid series by Richelle Mead

Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips

Wicked Saga by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Antigoddess series by Kendare Blake

Night Huntress by Jeaniene Frost 

Meredith Gentry series by Laurell K. Hamilton

Hunter: Thieves series by Lexi Blake

Dissonance series by Erica O’Rourke 

The Host by Stephenie Meyer

The Last Girl by Joe Hart

Secondborn series by Amy A. Bartol

Rebel of the Sands by Alwyn Hamilton

Beastkeeper by Cat Hellisen

A Madness So Discrete by Mindy McGinnis

VIP series by Kristen Callihan

Lonely Kings series by Ava Lore

High Fantasy

Chronicles of the Shadow War by Chris Claremont and George Lucas (Shadow Moon, Shadow Dawn, Shadow Star). Picked it up what ended up being the second book randomly at the library, not reading anything about it and was like that name, Elora sounds really familiar, and then hmmm this Thorn Drumheller seems an awful lot like Willow from the movie. Had loved the movie and was very happy to figure out that this was a ~15 years later sequel. 

Uprooted by Naomi Novik - Pulled me in at the start and was a wonderful read. First Person, which I love, pulled in familiar myth and fairytale elements as well as great original elements. Same world but different characters sequel is Spinning Silver - also very good but not as good as the first. If you need additional reasons to read the author is one of the ones helping with Ao3 - “Her own adventures include pillaging degrees in English literature and computer science from various ivory towers, designing computer games, and helping to build the Archive of Our Own for fanfiction and other fanworks. Novik is a co-founder of the Organization for Transformative Works.“

“Our Dragon doesn’t eat the girls he takes, no matter what stories they tell outside our valley. We hear them sometimes, from travelers passing through. They talk as though we were doing human sacrifice, and he were a real dragon. Of course that’s not true: he may be a wizard and immortal, but he’s still a man, and our fathers would band together and kill him if he wanted to eat one of us every ten years. He protects us against the Wood, and we’re grateful, but not that grateful.”

Queen’s Thief Series by Megan Whalen Turner - Good god do I love an antihero. And a first person thief? It takes me back to my love of the Raven Ring. The worldbuilding, the (as much as I find the term obnoxious due to overuse in almost any story that incorporates BDSM to describe someone baiting or attempting to top from the bottom) sass, the antagonizing by the main character. It is a YA so when things happen that are ‘reveals’ later on you’ll notice them, they’re not “OMG I’m so surprised!” but it’s very, very well done. First book - Aces, second book also fantastic, third....hmmmmm would like the POV’s from the first and second books rather than this new one, but has a great scene I’ll quote below.

The Thief (Book 1)

“Are you really named after the god of thieves?” “I am.”

“Well, how could they tell what you were going to be when you were just a baby?”

“How did they know what you were going to be when you were a baby?”

“My father was a duke.”

“So my mother was a thief.”

“So you would have to grow up to be one, too?”

“Most of the people in my family thought so. My father wanted me to be a soldier, but he’s been disappointed.”

Behind us I heard Pol grunt. He no doubt thought my father’s disappointment was justified.

“Your father? He did?”

Sophos sounded so surprised that I looked over at him and asked, “Why shouldn’t he?”

“Oh, well, I mean…” Sophos turned red, and I wondered about the circulation of his blood; maybe his body kept an extra supply of it in his head, ready for blushing.

“What surprises you?” I asked. “That my father was a soldier? Or that I knew him? Did you think that I was illegitimate?”

Sophos opened and closed his mouth without saying anything.

I told him that no, I wasn’t illegitimate. “I even have brothers and sisters,” I told him, “with the same father.” Poor Sophos looked as if he wanted the ground to swallow him.

The King of Attolia (Book 3) condensing down a tiny bit with the [...]’s

The king couldn’t lie on a deathbed with a sense of dignity. The attendants were all on the verge of breaking into laughter, and the king, far from minding, was enjoying every minute of it.

The queen’s lips thinned.

“I am very sorry,” the physician said helplessly.

“Stop apologizing and hurry.”

“Your Majesty, I…” Petrus looked as if he was about to cry.

Ornon spoke firmly from behind the doctor. “Your Majesty is upsetting his physician.” […] The doctor bent over the wound again. The king made a face, but was silent. The doctor looked up momentarily in astonishment but returned to his work, eager to finish before this reprieve passed.

The king lay still and made no sound. As Petrus pulled his first stitches tight, the king took a deeper breath and didn’t let it go. After a long count of ten, he softly released the breath and took another.

There were three people between Costis and the queen. Costis knocked all three of them aside like pegs in a counting game and dropped to his knees in time to catch the queen as she collapsed into his outspread arms.

He’d seen her, white as wax, from the corner of his eye and, seeing her waver, had known she was fainting, but too late to do anything but catch her.

“The queen!” someone shouted in alarm, and the king erupted like a wild animal caught in a snare. […] “My stitches, my stitches!” the physician yelled.

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty!”

“Damn your stitches!” he snarled. “Let me up.” […] He splayed his hand across the king’s face and slammed his head back hard against the pillow. Keeping his hand planted on the king’s face, he leaned over and roared into his ear, “The queen is fine!”

Eugenides was still. The men around the bed froze as well.

“Irene?” the king called.

“She fainted. That’s all,” Ornon said more quietly. “There is a great deal of blood. She is a woman and she was upset. It is not a surprising reaction.” […] On the bed, Eugenides stirred restlessly. “Upset at the sight of blood?” he said. “Not my wife, Ornon.”

“Your blood,” the ambassador pointed out.

Eugenides glanced at the hook on his arm and conceded the point. “Yes,” he said. […] “Get on with it,” said the king. He hardly seemed to notice when the stitching began. He looked toward the doorway, toward the queen, but spoke to the Eddisian Ambassador. “I think, in future, Ornon, I will stick to upsetting my physician.”

Stardust by Neil Gaiman - Lost too many copies, including my first edition of this by lending it out and never getting it back. I’m having trouble trying to say why you need to give these Neil Gaiman books a chance but goodness, all of them, all of them! I’ve never read a bad one. He’s got a beautiful and enticing way of writing - Favorites in order American Gods, Good Omens, Smoke and Mirrors (short stories), Stardust, Ocean at the End of the Lane, Coraline, The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish.

American Gods

“You working for our man then?” asked the bearded man. He was not sober, although he was not yet drunk.

“It looks that way,” said Shadow. “What do you do?”

The bearded man lit his cigarette. “I’m a leprechaun,” he said, with a grin.

Shadow did not smile. “Really?” he said. “Shouldn’t you be drinking Guinness?”

“Stereotypes. You have to learn to think outside the box,” said the bearded man. “There’s a lot more to Ireland than Guinness.”

“You don’t have an Irish accent.”

“I’ve been over here too fucken long.”

“So you are originally from Ireland?”

“I told you. I’m a leprechaun. We don’t come from fucken Moscow.”

Neverveil series by Amy McNulty - First person, great worldbuilding. Also representation of POC for the majority of characters if you’re looking for a book with that particular feature. Cyclical, fallible main characters, overall a fast and enjoyable read.

The Sleeping Prince Series by Melinda Salisbury

The Sin Eater’s Daughter by Melinda Salisbury

Red Queen series by Victoria Aveyard - YA

Fairy Keeper by Amy Bearce - Loved the first of this series, not as much the following books, first one, Fairy Keeper, is definately worth the read. YA

The Enchanted Forest series by Patricia C Wrede Classic, some of my first favorites.It is a youth series but I will never ever stop loving it. Also the Magic & Malice books.

The Raven Ring by Patricia C. Wrede - the first time I remember falling in love with the antihero as a young reader. It is fantastic.

Anne McCaffery - Read Dragon Drums in 5th grade by random pickup at the library and was hooked. From there went through the other Harper Hall/Pern series, then the Tower and Hive series, then the Acorna series. A great mix of both fantasy and sci fi, and fantasy with sci fi history.

Dark Fantasy

The Black Jewels Series by Anne Bishop - it was difficult to get into this at first, for me, I owned the series for a couple years could not get into it no matter how many times I read the first chapter. Then I picked up and read one of the “short stories” more of a novella, “The Prince of Ebon Rih,” in Dreams Made Flesh. One note - ignore the names of the three main male characters. Just... I love *LOVE* this series but ‘Daemon,” “Lucivar,” and “Saetan SaDiablo” are...just ignore that and you’re good. Strong women and men, family and friends, who have a fierce love for each other, tremendous amount of snark that I adore, if only there were more books on Surreal, and Saetan, and Tersa, and Rainer, and Chaosti, and the First Circle of the Dark Court, and anyone, I would read any additional stories in this series. There are so very many passages I’d use to try and draw interest so I’ll just grab a few

Karla let out a screech that raised the hairs on Saetan's neck.

"You've got tits!" Karla pulled open the blue jacket, revealing a silver, just as skimpy top. "So do I, if you call these lovely little bee stings tits." Smiling the wickedest smile Saetan had ever seen, she turned back to him. "What do you think?"

He didn't stop to think. "Are you asking if I think they're lovely or if I think they're bee strings?"

Karla closed the jacket, crossed her arms, and narrowed those ice-blue eyes. "Sassy, isn't he?"

"Well, he is a Warlord Prince," Jaenelle replied.

Ice-blue eyes met sapphire eyes. Both girls smiled.

Karla shrugged. "Oh, all right. I'll be a polite guest." She stepped up to Saetan, and that wicked smile bloomed. "Kiss kiss."

He refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing him wince.

Yet another

"Are you lost?" 

Daemon glanced over to where Lucivar leaned against a doorway. "I'm not lost," he snapped. Then he stopped pacing and sighed. "But I am very confused." 

"Of course you are. You're male." Grinning at Daemon's snarl, Lucivar stepped into the courtyard. "So if one of the darlings in the coven offers to explain things to you, don't take her up on it. She'll sincerely be trying to help, but by the time she's done 'unconfusing' you, you'll be banging your head against a wall and whimpering."

"Why?" 

"Because for every five rules you'd learned in Terreille about a male's proper behavior in a court, the Kaeleer Blood know only one of them—and they interpret it very differently." 

Daemon shrugged "Obedience is obedience." 

"No, it's not. For Blood males, the First Law is to honor, cherish, and protect. The second is to serve. The third is to obey." 

"And if obedience interferes with the first two laws?" 

"Toss it out the window." 

Daemon blinked. "You actually get away with that?" 

Lucivar scratched the back of his head and looked thoughtful. "It's not so much a question of getting away with it. For Warlord Princes, it's almost a requirement of court service. However, if you ignore an order from the Steward or the Master of the Guard, you'd better be sure you can justify your action and be willing to accept the consequences if they won't accept it, which is rare. I got into more trouble with the High Lord as my father than as the Steward."

And another

In lieu of a knock, she walloped the study door once and then stomped up to the blackwood desk where Saetan sat watching her, a glass of brandy raised halfway to his lips. 

Daemon and Lucivar, comfortably slouched in two chairs in front of the desk, just stared at her. 

Now that she was there, she wasn't quite as willing to address the High Lord directly, so she half turned toward Daemon and Lucivar and tossed out the question, "Don't I have the right to decide if I want a male in my bed?" 

The air behind the desk instantly chilled, but Lucivar said blandly, "Graysfang?" and the air returned to normal. 

The smirk in Lucivar's voice had her turning toward him fully. "I don't know about you, but I'm not used to sleeping with a wolf." 

"What's wrong with Graysfang staying with you?" Daemon asked. 

The soothing tone he was putting into his voice only infuriated her. "He farts," she snapped, then waved her hand dismissively. "Well, so do the rest of you." 

Someone made a choking sound. She thought it was Daemon. 

"Do you resent his being there because he's a wolf or because he's interfering with another kind of male warming your bed?" Lucivar asked. 

Maybe it hadn't been meant as a slur that she used to be a whore, but she took it as such because then she could vent her temper on him. "Well, sugar, from where I'm standing, there's not much to choose between you. He takes up more than his share of the bed, he snores, and he gives slobbery kisses. But if I had to choose, I'd pick him. At least he can lick his own balls!" 

A glass hit the desk with an ominous thunk.

Surreal closed her eyes and bit her lip. 

Shit. She'd been so focused on being mad at Lucivar, she'd forgotten about the High Lord.

Different book in the series, Queen of the Darkness

“I could have handled that bastard.”

Falonar looked insulted. “It’s a male’s right to defend and protect.”

Surreal bared her teeth. “I’ve heard that song before, and-”

“Then you should heed that song, Lady - and respect it.”

“Why? Because poor little me isn’t capable of handling myself in a fight?” she said with venom-laced sweetness.

“Because you’re deadlier,” he snarled. He paced a few steps away from her, swore, paced back. “That’s why males defend, Lady Surreal. Because you females are deadlier when you’re roused-and you’re merciless when you’re riding the killing edge. At least if I go down first in a fight, I don’t have to deal with you afterward.

”Not sure if she’d just been complimented or insulted, Surreal said nothing.

Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas - First person, great worldbuilding, very very similar elements to Anne Bishop’s Black Jewels series in everything from the mannerisms, to the Illyrians vs Eryins, to the need of draining power descriptions and customs (I was 100% convinced it was Anne Bishop venturing into first person and ghostwriting an alternate version of the Black Jewels world for a long time). Didn’t care for the romantic lead in the first book, thankfully the hinting of book 1 transitioned into book 2 and <3 oh I love it. Supposedly a sort of inspired by classic fairy tales (like beauty and the beast) but it’s not like you’re sitting there reading a progression of that story like other books do. The Throne of Glass series is also very good, more original but again very Anne Bishop in it’s feel/wording (the purred words, midnight voices, the level of protectiveness bowels turned to water when terrified) 

Really enjoy the series but since I posted so much of Anne Bishop I figure I’ll just do a quasi related suggestion of threesomes that I found fun and funny. Court of Wings and Ruin... for now editing to avoid spoilers

“You never know until you try,” Helion purred.

The three of them in bed...with him? I must have been blinking like a fool because [<3] said to me, Helion favors both males and females. Usually together in his bed. And has been hounding that trio for centuries.

I considered--Helion’s beauty and the others...Why the hell haven’t they said yes?

[<3] barked a laugh that had all of them looking at him with raised brows.

[<3] just came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss to my neck. Would you like someone to join us in bed, Feyre [...]?

My skin stretched tight over my bones at the tone, the suggestion. You’re incorrigible.

I’d think you’d like two males worshipping you.

My toes curled.

Mor cleared her throat. “Whatever you’re saying mind to mind, either share it or go to another room so we don’t have to sit here, stewing in your scents.” 

I stuck out my tongue. [<3] laughed again, kissing my neck once more before saying, “Apologies for offending your delicate sensibilities, cousin.”

A Court of Frost and Starlight

If both of us went in there, I knew my sister would see it as an attack.

So it would be me. Alone

[<3] kissed my brow. “If someone propositions you, tell them we’ll both be free in an hour.”

“Och.” I waved him off, banking my powers to a near-whisper within me.

He blew me a kiss.

I waved that away, too, and slipped through the tavern door.

Three Dark Crowns series by Kendare Blake -

Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Romance

Necromancer/Firebug Series by Lish McBride - first person, hilarious, and fantastic

Hold Me Closer, Necromancer

Oh, good, he was crazy and scary. What an awesome combination. I let  go of his wrists with one hand and leverages myself back enough so I could pull my T-shirt out of his grip. I dropped to the floor, knowing full well that he let me do it.

Freaks & Other Family

I tried to walk on my own to Mrs. W’s car, but Ramon got tired of watching me wobble like a baby deer and scooped me up and carried me.

I grinned at him. “Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

“I can’t believe you’re Top Gun-ing me right now. We almost died.”

“I’m going to blame the head injury,” I said, patting his chest. “You’re supposed to say, ‘show me the way home, honey.’“

“I will do no such thing, and you can’t blame it on the head injury, because you say those kinds of things to me all the time.”

“This is true. Let’s go on a crime spree then, and we’ll blame that on the head injury.”

“You can’t even walk. We need to get you home so you can rest,” Ramon said firmly.

“Yeah, so we can then explain to James how we both managed to completely rune the top-of-the-line tuxedo rentals we’re wearing.” Top-of-the-line to me. James had sneered openly at them before throwing up his hands in despair, which wouldn’t stop him from berating us. If anything, I think he’d find it more insulting somehow, and the fact that we’d ruined only semi-decent tuxes instead of really nice tuxes would just be salt in the wound.

Ramon paused as we both thought that over. Mrs. W pulled ahead of us, fishing her keys out of her clutch.

“Shit,” Ramon said. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

We both stared out into the night, silent as we contemplated our impending dooms.

“Head injury,” we both said at the same time.

“We can definitely blame the suits on that.”

“And if he doesn’t buy it,” Ramon added, “then you can just pass out again.”

“Deal.”

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

American Gods by Neil Gaiman as someone who was always a fan of Gaiman, and have been pleased with how the miniseries is doing with it’s adaptation because this has been a love since I got my my hands on it. It doesn’t hurt that Mad Sweeny’s chaotic love of fighting is personified so well by OitNB’s Pornstashe. The only thing I was dissapointed in was due to my prior knowledge of Norse Mythology and the whole “You can call me Wednesday” thing was shouting out what appeared to try and be a “reveal” towards the end. Fantastic incorporation of mythology and characterization. Just...love. Ocean at the End of the Lane is also

The Hollows by Kim Harrison - Again, couldn’t start at the start but jumping in mid series and I was in love. First Person, amazing worldbuilding

Enchantment by Orson Scott Card - very well done. Hate the male vocal reader he uses for his audio books (something about his voice grates on my nerves) but I’d suffer through to listen to this. A great twisting of various fairy tale elements into this, clever things that I wouldn’t have considered at the time of reading this. Very well done. Very. 

The Others Series by Anne Bishop - Not as loved as the Black Jewels but it has some characters I’m invested in now so I’m reading any and all of the series.

Georgina Kincaid series by Richelle Mead - Main character is a succubus by contract, having to corrupt souls to fulfill her contract with Hell and none too pleased about it. I was agonizing waiting for these to be released.

Succubus Blues (Book 1)

Statistics show that most mortals sell their souls for five reasons: sex, money, power, revenge, and love. In that order. 

I suppose I should have been reassured, then, that I was out here assisting with numero uno, but the whole situation just made me feel.. . well, sleazy. And coming from me, that was something. 

Maybe I just can't empathize anymore, I mused. It's been too long. When I was a virgin, people still believed swans could impregnate girls. 

Nearby, Hugh waited patiently for me to overcome my reticence. He stuffed his hands into well-pressed khakis, leaning his large frame against his Lexus. "I don't see what the big deal is. You do this all the time.” 

That wasn't exactly true, but we both knew what he meant. Ignoring him, I instead made a great show of studying my surroundings, not that that improved my mood. The suburbs always dragged me down. Identical houses. Perfect lawns. Far too many SUVs. Somewhere in the night, a dog refused to stop yapping. 

"I don't do this," I said finally. "Even I have standards.” 

Hugh snorted, expressing his opinion of my standards. 

"Okay, if it makes you feel better, don't think of this in terms of damnation. Think of it as a charity case.”

Wicked Saga by Jennifer L. Armentrout - First person, apparently I have a thing for snarky, territorial, hand sized coworkers in UF books.

Wicked

“Tink.” I sighed.

“Whatever. I think you should just get some action from him and kick his ass to the curb.”

My mouth dropped open. “Okay. That is the most bizarre string of advice I have ever heard. You don’t like him, but you think I should have sex with him and then get rid of him? And obviously I can’t because he’s a member of the Order.” That was the one thing I didn’t tell Tink --what Ren truly was. “You make no sense.”

“I make perfect sense. In my world, you don’t even have to like another to have sex with them. It’s all about the natural urges to get it on and...”

As Tink ranted on about the peculiars of his species’ particular mating preferences, I picked up the sugar canister and dumped a small pile of sugar on the counter.

“You just need to let those animalistic--holy brownie balls!” Tink dropped to his knees in front of the pile of sugar. He started moving the tiny granules to another pile, counting softly. “One, two, three, four, five, six...” Pausing, he glanced up with a frown. “Where did you learn that?”

I shrugged as I bit down on my lower lip. “Saw it on an episode of Supernatural.”

and

“Okay.” I placed the stake on the bistro table then reached up, tucking my hair back. “I can explain, Ren, but I need you to let him go.”

“You heard the woman,” Tink said. “Let me go.”

Ren’s gaze flew from the brownie to me. “You want me to let this thing go?”

“He’s my thing--I mean, he’s not a ‘thing.’ He’s a brownie, and he’s okay. He’s not going to hurt anything. I swear.” Walking over to where Ren stood, I ignored the way Tink Glared at us. “Please.”

“He’s a brownie, Ivy. What in the hell is he doing here?” He turned his gaze back to Tink, and the brownie paled since the edge of the knife was still near his throat. “And what do you mean he’s yours? I come into the kitchen and he’s sitting in a bowl of Frosted Flakes like a walking, talking rat.”

“I am not a rat, sir! I am a brownie and damn proud of it, you overgrown--”

“Tink,” I warned, then wrapped my hand around Ren’s wrist. His emerald gaze flicked to mine. My heart was slamming against my ribs. As upset with Tink as I was, if something happened to him...

“His name is Tink?”

I nodded, “Well, that’s what I call him.”

“Am I high? I’ve got to be high.” He glanced back down at Tink and scowled. “Is he wearing doll pants?”

Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips - Another random library snag. Greek gods in a modern setting, full of apathy from a millennia of existence

Antigoddess series by Kendare Blake

Night Huntress by Jeaniene Frost - first person, great world building, fallible characters, lots of character investment over the series, sexy.

Meredith Gentry series by Laurell K. Hamilton - surprised myself by pretty consistently thinking - ‘While I like the varied and inventive sex, I really like the characters so I wish there was less sex and more story” when usually I don’t have complaints about the amount of sex in any given story, I’m cool with PWP works but I was hoping for some magic fix for Andais, like making her mortal and giving her another child then cutting out a good amount of the crazy due to those actions. Didn’t happen. Merry and her harem of men get it on for significant portions of especially the second onwards books, and again I can appreciate lots of magical explicit sexytimes I also wanted more progress on the characters. Also pet peeve of disliking men with long hair was constantly reinforced with a majority of the fae having waist/ankle length hair. The movie that played in my mind gave them haircuts really fast.

Hunter: Thieves series by Lexi Blake

Dissonance series by Erica O’Rourke - always enjoy when there is a new idea/twist and the reality bending in this was quite nice. YA, but I could not put it down.

Sci Fi & Dystopian

The Host by Stephenie Meyer - Was drawn to this one by the cover, it’s a gorgeous eye with a pupil ringed in (according to the story silver, but the cover makes it look icy) brightness. I walked past it a hundred times going “Ohh Pretty!” before finally springing for the audio book from the library - was exceptionally well read. Did not pay attention to the author or read any info about it and enjoyed it very much. Had I realized it was by the lady who wrote Twilight I wouldn’t have read it, I’m glad I didn’t realize and did listen to it. Very well done dichotomy of the main character(s) as two distinct personalities and thought processes. YA verging on New Adult about the aftermath of a relatively peaceful alien invasion. According to the things I’ve heard/memes I’ve seen of Twilight this author has a thing for a team whoever and team whoever2 triangles.

The Last Girl by Joe Hart

Secondborn series by Amy A. Bartol

General Fantasy or More YA

Rebel of the Sands by Alwyn Hamilton - fantasy western

Beastkeeper by Cat Hellisen

A Madness So Discrete by Mindy McGinnis - 

New Adult

VIP series by Kristen Callihan - fun, fast read, first person, Bands

Lonely Kings series by Ava Lore - again, fun, fast reads, first person, bands

[sandersgrey]

Hogwarts Has Not Forgotten

Harry Potter AU in which the Founders were not dead, but lost to the world for a thousand of years. They wake up, and Helga is not pleased. 

Part one. Part two is here.

Word Count: 1,755

Ao3 link: here.

Albus Dumbledore had seen many strange things in his very long life. The darkest magic had been put on his desk just a few days ago by the boy who had the purest magic protecting him. His life had always been unusual. And yet, nothing had ever prepared him to have a cordial meeting with the founders of Hogwarts.

This was the return of legends in his office and he could not stop smiling.

"Harry, I wonder why you're always involved in such wonders", Dumbledore said, even though he could guess. (His guesses were usually right, except, of course, when they were terribly, terribly wrong.)

"I wonder too, Professor", Harry said. He sounded worn out and kept staring at the founders in what was frankly a quite understandable reaction that proved his exhaustion with this kind of situation. Harry usually tried not to stare at people, famous as they might be. Godric noticed his staring and smiled amused. Harry ducked his head and blushed in embarassment.

"You four can, of course, stay at Hogwarts, even though it might take some time to provide you with adequate quarters. I will-"

"While we appreciate it, Headmaster", Salazar said. He gave Helga what to anyone else would look like a smirk, but she could easily notice the question in his eyes. She smiled. "That won't be necessary. I can assure you that Hogwarts has not forgotten us."

Dumbledore raised a brow, but made no comment. He knew better than to argue about Hogwarts with the founders, even if he was the Headmaster.

"I'm glad that was discussed", Helga started, and Salazar sighed. Out of all of them, he had always been the one to understand her better. Of course he knew what she was going to do. (She loved all of them, of course she did; but Salazar had always been her ally in their shared goal in a way that the others could and did not be. Rowena got too caught in her research and motherhood until she didn't, and Godric went out to have quests when he should have prioritized the students, but Salazar had always been the closest to her heart and the one who had stayed behind, again and again, to make sure their students were okay. Hogwarts was meant to be safe. Rowena had designed the wards, and Godric powered it, but Salazar and Helga had made of the school a home.) "But could I have a word alone with you, Headmaster?"

Godric frowned at her in confusion. Frankly, his own student, wearing red and gold in his black robes, and he didn't notice anything? Helga had taken care of the most fragile students, but Godric had been there, too. Rowena shrugged. She probably understood, despite clearly not seeing reason to rush. (She had understood even less than Godric. Of all of them, it was honestly the most shocking when she had a child.)

"Of course", said Dumbledore, despite his clear confusion. "Harry, if you could give us a moment?"

The boy squinted at the founders and, seemingly not thinking of them as a threat just yet, shrugged, stammered something, and went to the hallway to meet his friends. They hadn't been happy to stay behind, but no one wanted them to start asking more questions than their still-confused minds could answer at the moment.

"Should we go too, Helga?", Godric asked.

"You can go if you want", she said. The 'but I'd rather you stayed' was implicit. Judging by the way he stayed in the armchair Dumbledore had conjured for them, he understood.

"Helga, is this really the time?", Salazar asked. She noticed he only protested the timing. Oh well, they had always disagreed in how quickly these things should be done. She knew he wouldn't leave her to do this alone, though. (He left once. He came back. Hogwarts was his home, too.)

"Yes, I am sure, Salazar."

"Well, I'll go. I have many tests to run", Rowena said, and left. Helga hadn't expected her to stay this time, not with so much lost time and lost knowledge to understand again. She shrugged.

"May I ask, now that everyone who should or wanted to leave already did, what do you want to talk about?", Dumbledore asked. He looked like someone who was not used to having his actions questioned. Helga was looking forward to this.

(Godric had vanquished dragons, and Rowena had created magic never before dreamed of, and Salazar had stopped wars before they even started, but Helga's miracles were quieter, slower, closer to the hearth than they were to dangerous forests and dusty labs and dark rooms. Her miracles grew. They were no less important.)

"You may", she said. "And may I ask who is taking care of the boy that just left this office?"

"Harry Potter", Godric said. "I remember that much. He's quite brave. One of mine, I think."

"He's indeed a Gryffindor", Dumbledore nodded. "Which is why I wonder why you've taken an interest on him, Lady Hufflepuff, but I can assure you the boy is safe where he lives."

"A child does not need to be in my House for me to care", Helga said, voice as cold as the Black Lake in the coldest night of the winter. Godric and Salazar, both already having seen her fury before, did not startle. Dumbledore frowned in confusion. "Now tell me, Headmaster, how are you so sure Harry is safe?"

"You have to understand, Lady Hufflepuff, that the boy has been the target of a Dark Lord since a very young age. Voldemort, that's his name, managed to kill his mother, but as she had died to protect him-..."

"A sacrifice of love", Godric said approvingly. "A last resort, of course, and rarely used, but very effective. I'd guess it's tied to her blood?"

"Yes, in fact", Dumbledore didn't seem surprised that Gryffindor knew. It was exactly the kind of reckless and honorable sacrifice Godric would approve. And, Helga thought to herself, the kind of desperate, protective magic she would probably have done, too. "I had to tie the blood wards to her sister's house. So, you see, the boy is safer there than anywhere else except for Hogwarts, if Voldemort ever comes back, and evidence says he will."

"Do the wards tell you when the boy is in danger?", Salazar asked. He had now that same calculating look in his eyes that had stopped kings a thousand of years before. Helga smirked.

(a snake is a snake is a snake is a snake)

"Yes, actually", Dumbledore looked at Salazar in a way that suggested he was offended and trying very hard not to show it. "It warns me in case of danger."

"What kind of danger?", Helga calmly asked.

"External threats. If the house's wards are affected or trespassed by magic."

"So let me get this straight", said Godric, ignoring Salazar's smirk. "The boy's aunt could have starved him to death and you would be none the wiser?"

"Well, theoretically, yes, but Petunia has accepted the boy in her house-"

"Accepting a kid doesn't mean she took care of him. Doesn't mean she fed him or hugged him or taught him important things. Doesn't mean she didn't hurt him". Helga had a friendly smile in her face that was scarier than Godric's most furious expression. It was a much subtler, but much more dangerous, threat. An illness in your lungs instead of a sword to your stomach.

"I don't believe there's love between them, no, but it's still safer-"

"Oh yes, much better for the kid to die of starvation than with a spell. Tell me, how did you even get to that brilliant conclusion?", Salazar sneered. "Harry was clever and brave enough to disarm my basilisk without dying or hurting someone. He wouldn't flinch when an adult stands up if he didn't have experience with that being a more certain danger."

And we will talk about that idea of letting a basilisk in the castle", Helga promised Salazar, who blanched. "But I agree with Slytherin. His robes barely fit him, and Hogwarts' robes are charmed. There's something wrong. And a life without love, without care, is even a life worth living at all?"

"There's nowhere the boy could stay at summer that would be safer."

"Oh, but there is", Godric grinned. It was the same grin he used to give her after a battle, bloody and dirty, but satisfied he had done his duty and trusting her to fix the rest. "You just said. 'The boy is safer there than anywhere else except for Hogwarts'."

Dumbledore frowned, actually considering the idea for a moment before discarding it.

"No one will be here in the summer to take care of Harry. I won't let a child alone with the house elves for an entire summer."

"And yet you'll leave him with people who clearly aren't doing his duty towards him."

"We'll be here", Helga said. Salazar and Godric looked at her with twin expressions of resignation. "And more important, I'll be here."

"Are you offering to take care of Harry?", Dumbledore seemed stunned.

"In fact, yes. I used to take care of the students who were orphans, or had abusive families. I would be equipped to deal with his situation. If Godric doesn't mind that I take care of one of his?"

"You go ahead", he shrugged, "it's not like I could do it, not like you."

"Are you aware you would have to be his legal guardian in order to take care of him well?". Dumbledore seemed to be slowly accepting the idea.

"Well, yes. But I'm one of the Founders. Would anyone really deny me the guardianship of a student, even a famous one?"

"I don't believe so, no", Salazar agreed with a cat-like smile.

"I believe your idea could work. I'd feel more at ease if you asked Harry about how he feels about it, first, but I'd be glad to help", Dumbledore finally said.

A Founder was powerful enough to protect even Harry Porter, and with four of them in the castle, well, it might stop some of Voldemort's plans before they even start, if they're lucky. And Dumbledore had never enjoyed leaving Harry to fend by himself with the Dursleys.

"I will ask him, don't worry."

Hogwarts was meant to be safe. Rowena Ravenclaw designed the wards, Godric Gryffindor powered them, Salazar Slytherin created escape plans in case they failed.

Helga Hufflepuff took care of those who were inside of them.

[informationsingle54]

Mixed Race Dating App

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In the online dating market, you don’t even have to prove you’re mixed raced to get more attention; just saying so is enough. Ken-Hou Lin said biracial profiles without any photos performed. The mix Amore app is another popular portal for those looking for an interracial dating app. It is available online through websites and has an app supported by Android and the iPhone. One can register easily on the app as it is free to sign up on it. Black White Interracial Dating - Interracial Match. Black White Dating Dating. Offers in-app purchases. Add to Wishlist. Interracial Dating: The New Enlightenment. Less than a century ago, interracial dating was something you didn’t talk about,.

Sex & Relationships

One Asian-Canadian woman examines the racial stereotypes she faces on dating apps—and confronts her own biases

“Where are you from?” an Asian-Canadian man asks me on the dating app Hinge. “I’m from here! You as well?” I respond. The conversation moves on. A couple hours later he returns to the topic. “What’s your background Anna??” My ambiguous identity is a mystery he is clearly determined to solve. I cave. “My mom’s white and my dad’s Korean,” I respond. “I knew you were a halfie, I just wanted to confirm,” he says.

It could’ve been worse. I wasn’t subjected to sexually aggressive racism like what this Zimbabwean woman in Newfoundland experienced on Plenty of Fish. Or told, as my Asian-Canadian friend Rebecca has been, that I must be smart and quiet like a “typical Asian girl”. But my exchange was one of countless throughout my digital dating journey in which my ethnicity has been the entry point of conversation. How could I possibly be charmed by pick-up lines like “Are you a hybrid?” and “Teach me sensei”? (Sensei is a teacher of Japanese martial arts and, yes I had to Google it.)

When I first started swiping eight years ago, I saw weeding out the white men with a bad case of yellow fever as the price I had to pay for participating in online dating. But a part of me couldn’t blame them—up until then, Asian women were rarely seen in media, or even worse, depicted as one of two stereotypes: either the submissive “china doll” (hello, Memoirs of a Geisha) or the sexually aggressive “dragon lady” (think Lucy Liu in Charlie’s Angels). But this is 2020; we now have nuanced portrayals of Asian women on screen with complex characters like Sandra Oh in Killing Eve and Lana Condor in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. We’re also living in the post-#MeToo era, and while white men seem to have become more careful about what they say upon first message exchange (now it can take several dates before I detect an Asian fetish), my experience suggests some Asian men have yet to catch on.

Read this next:For Years, I Was Vehemently Against Dating Asian Guys—Even Though I’m Chinese

We’re supposedly living in a post-racial society, and yet dating preferences and behaviours remain largely racialized. And OkCupid founder Christian Rudder thinks our racial biases might actually be getting worse, not better. After comparing OkCupid data from 2009 to 2014, he found “the one thing that had changed was users’ willingness to proclaim they had no racial preference, while still clearly acting on the same racial prejudices,” as reported by Aaron Sankin for The Kernel. It appears our ingrained racial biases continue to determine our swipe-right habits and what we say online, in other words—our racial behaviours haven’t caught up to our egalitarian beliefs.

You would think we would be moving beyond judging prospective partners based on their race given that interracial dating in Canada has been steadily on the rise since 1991, according to Statistics Canada (2018). But an Ipsos poll conducted last year revealed that at least 15 percent of Canadians have stated they would never have a relationship with someone outside their race while Statistics Canada (2018) has found that two of the largest visible minority groups in Canada—South Asians and Chinese—have the fewest number of interracial relationships. On the extreme end, we’ve even seen the rise of the “Angry Asian Man,” online trolls who harass Asian women for partnering with white men. In her article for The Cut, author Celeste Ng explains that “in the eyes of these men, interracial relationships and multiracial children are ‘eugenics’—selectively ‘breeding’ Asian men out of existence—but inter-Asian marrying to create ‘pure�� Asians is commendable.”

Could monoracial dating really be thriving in a city as diverse as Toronto? While I’ve never used dating platforms designed exclusively for Asians like EastMeetsEast or Timphop Asian Dating, I have been increasingly swiping right on Asian guys because I assume they know what it’s like to be racially objectified and won’t stereotype me the way white men have. As Kenji Yamazaki, cofounder of EastMeetsEasttells GQ, “at least you (Asian men) aren’t rejected for your ethnicity. On the other hand, Asian women can be assured that they aren’t being accepted solely because of theirs.” I can see how dating someone of your own ethnicity seems safer, free of racial judgment.

Read this next:My Date Told Me I Wasn’t Like “Other Muslim Women”

Yet all the racialized comments I’ve received lately on dating apps have come from Asian, not white, men. And my experience isn’t unique—I’ve heard similar stories from Asian female friends, such as Sydney, who was picked up by an Asian guy for looking like Awkwafina (whom she bears little resemblance to). It isn’t just Asian men who demonstrate inter-group stereotyping and discrimination. American-born Asian women on EastMeetsEast have even been found to favour partners who are less “fobby” than them (as in, less “fresh off the boat” and more assimilated into western culture). EastMeetsEast also uses Asian stereotypes in their advertisements, such as a selfie of an East Asian woman with the slogan “Just like Dim Sum…choose what you like.” It appears even the creators and users of these dating apps have internalized racism.

But maybe I do too. I’m an Asian-Canadian woman who denounces yellow fever yet I usually am attracted to white guys IRL (and I’m not the only one). Growing up in predominantly Caucasian communities, I’ve always been most attracted to white men because I relate more to their culture than my Korean roots. But I also think my bias stems from associating white men with desire and success. I should’ve known I had internalized racism the moment I felt no shame in telling my white high school friends, “I like guys with boat shoes”—the quintessential, stereotypical signifier of a rich, white guy. Was I being racist or did I just have a “type”?

I might not be racist because my relationships that develop the furthest tend to be with white guys, but I am a product of a racist society. The implicit-association test, created by Anthony, Debbie McGhee, and Jordan Schwartz in 1998, has demonstrated how the brain subconsciously associates stereotypes with images of facial features. It makes sense that the rapid-fire, visual nature of swiping would make online dating platforms fertile ground for my deeply ingrained racial biases to play out through my thumbs. But it also provides an enabling environment for those who do cross the line to insult without penalty, and as a result, never question their own prejudices.

Read this next:Am I Done With Dating White Men?

How do we counter the reductive nature of these apps, to ensure we’re seen and loved for who we really are and not just the snapshot we offer in our profile pictures and bios? It starts at the top, with dismantling the stereotypes we absorb through our screens. While Crazy Rich Asians was seminal for its all-Asian cast, I didn’t see my story as a mixed-race person represented. Given that mixed Asian-white women are considered among the most popular and exoticized of racial groups on dating platforms, we need more (and better) media portrayals of us, so that we can stop questioning whether interest in us online is simply a desire to determine “where we’re really from.” Beyond the big screen, we’ve seen the powerful role our phone screens play in shaping real-life relationships. Dating apps for around the world. Online dating platforms can be more strategic when designing their filters, matching algorithms and guidelines to make it harder for users to act on their subconscious racial biases, and to penalize them when they do.

Mixed Race Dating App Scam

But most importantly, it comes down to self-reflection. Confronting our dating habits and inherent biases may be easier than you think—there is evidence that we can change our racial preferences simply by making the first move. A 2013 study by Kevin Lewis, a sociology professor at the University of California, San Diego found that once a user messaged someone of a different race, their interactions across racial boundaries increased by 115 percent. Like any prejudice, exposure seems to be the key to overcoming discrimination.

I can’t blame any of the Asian guys on Hinge for basing their interest in me on my ethnicity any more than I can blame myself for once measuring the attractiveness of a man by the whiteness of his boat shoes. Judging someone by their appearance is inevitable when forming a new relationship online, but stereotyping based on race, and acting on it, only serves to further isolate us. I like to think we all have the capacity to hack our desire and deconstruct our biases; to undo the conditioning we’ve grown up with so that we can start making our morals our reality—online and offline.

FILED UNDER:

Sex & Relationships

https://informationsingle54.tumblr.com/post/657625616119644160/silversingles-cancel. One Asian-Canadian woman examines the racial stereotypes she faces on dating apps—and confronts her own biases

“Where are you from?” an Asian-Canadian man asks me on the dating app Hinge. “I’m from here! You as well?” I respond. The conversation moves on. A couple hours later he returns to the topic. “What’s your background Anna??” My ambiguous identity is a mystery he is clearly determined to solve. I cave. “My mom’s white and my dad’s Korean,” I respond. “I knew you were a halfie, I just wanted to confirm,” he says.

It could’ve been worse. I wasn’t subjected to sexually aggressive racism like what this Zimbabwean woman in Newfoundland experienced on Plenty of Fish. Or told, as my Asian-Canadian friend Rebecca has been, that I must be smart and quiet like a “typical Asian girl”. But my exchange was one of countless throughout my digital dating journey in which my ethnicity has been the entry point of conversation. How could I possibly be charmed by pick-up lines like “Are you a hybrid?” and “Teach me sensei”? (Sensei is a teacher of Japanese martial arts and, yes I had to Google it.)

When I first started swiping eight years ago, I saw weeding out the white men with a bad case of yellow fever as the price I had to pay for participating in online dating. But a part of me couldn’t blame them—up until then, Asian women were rarely seen in media, or even worse, depicted as one of two stereotypes: either the submissive “china doll” (hello, Memoirs of a Geisha) or the sexually aggressive “dragon lady” (think Lucy Liu in Charlie’s Angels). But this is 2020; we now have nuanced portrayals of Asian women on screen with complex characters like Sandra Oh in Killing Eve and Lana Condor in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. We’re also living in the post-#MeToo era, and while white men seem to have become more careful about what they say upon first message exchange (now it can take several dates before I detect an Asian fetish), my experience suggests some Asian men have yet to catch on.

Read this next:For Years, I Was Vehemently Against Dating Asian Guys—Even Though I’m Chinese

We’re supposedly living in a post-racial society, and yet dating preferences and behaviours remain largely racialized. And OkCupid founder Christian Rudder thinks our racial biases might actually be getting worse, not better. After comparing OkCupid data from 2009 to 2014, he found “the one thing that had changed was users’ willingness to proclaim they had no racial preference, while still clearly acting on the same racial prejudices,” as reported by Aaron Sankin for The Kernel. It appears our ingrained racial biases continue to determine our swipe-right habits and what we say online, in other words—our racial behaviours haven’t caught up to our egalitarian beliefs.

You would think we would be moving beyond judging prospective partners based on their race given that interracial dating in Canada has been steadily on the rise since 1991, according to Statistics Canada (2018). But an Ipsos poll conducted last year revealed that at least 15 percent of Canadians have stated they would never have a relationship with someone outside their race while Statistics Canada (2018) has found that two of the largest visible minority groups in Canada—South Asians and Chinese—have the fewest number of interracial relationships. On the extreme end, we’ve even seen the rise of the “Angry Asian Man,” online trolls who harass Asian women for partnering with white men. In her article for The Cut, author Celeste Ng explains that “in the eyes of these men, interracial relationships and multiracial children are ‘eugenics’—selectively ‘breeding’ Asian men out of existence—but inter-Asian marrying to create ‘pure’ Asians is commendable.”

Could monoracial dating really be thriving in a city as diverse as Toronto? While I’ve never used dating platforms designed exclusively for Asians like EastMeetsEast or Timphop Asian Dating, I have been increasingly swiping right on Asian guys because I assume they know what it’s like to be racially objectified and won’t stereotype me the way white men have. As Kenji Yamazaki, cofounder of EastMeetsEasttells GQ, “at least you (Asian men) aren’t rejected for your ethnicity. On the other hand, Asian women can be assured that they aren’t being accepted solely because of theirs.” I can see how dating someone of your own ethnicity seems safer, free of racial judgment.

Read this next:My Date Told Me I Wasn’t Like “Other Muslim Women”

Yet all the racialized comments I’ve received lately on dating apps have come from Asian, not white, men. And my experience isn’t unique—I’ve heard similar stories from Asian female friends, such as Sydney, who was picked up by an Asian guy for looking like Awkwafina (whom she bears little resemblance to). It isn’t just Asian men who demonstrate inter-group stereotyping and discrimination. American-born Asian women on EastMeetsEast have even been found to favour partners who are less “fobby” than them (as in, less “fresh off the boat” and more assimilated into western culture). EastMeetsEast also uses Asian stereotypes in their advertisements, such as a selfie of an East Asian woman with the slogan “Just like Dim Sum…choose what you like.” It appears even the creators and users of these dating apps have internalized racism.

But maybe I do too. I’m an Asian-Canadian woman who denounces yellow fever yet I usually am attracted to white guys IRL (and I’m not the only one). The best dating apps. Growing up in predominantly Caucasian communities, I’ve always been most attracted to white men because I relate more to their culture than my Korean roots. But I also think my bias stems from associating white men with desire and success. I should’ve known I had internalized racism the moment I felt no shame in telling my white high school friends, “I like guys with boat shoes”—the quintessential, stereotypical signifier of a rich, white guy. Was I being racist or did I just have a “type”?

I might not be racist because my relationships that develop the furthest tend to be with white guys, but I am a product of a racist society. The implicit-association test, created by Anthony, Debbie McGhee, and Jordan Schwartz in 1998, has demonstrated how the brain subconsciously associates stereotypes with images of facial features. It makes sense that the rapid-fire, visual nature of swiping would make online dating platforms fertile ground for my deeply ingrained racial biases to play out through my thumbs. But it also provides an enabling environment for those who do cross the line to insult without penalty, and as a result, never question their own prejudices.

Read this next:Am I Done With Dating White Men?

How do we counter the reductive nature of these apps, to ensure we’re seen and loved for who we really are and not just the snapshot we offer in our profile pictures and bios? Eharmony compatibility score scale printable. It starts at the top, with dismantling the stereotypes we absorb through our screens. While Crazy Rich Asians was seminal for its all-Asian cast, I didn’t see my story as a mixed-race person represented. Given that mixed Asian-white women are considered among the most popular and exoticized of racial groups on dating platforms, we need more (and better) media portrayals of us, so that we can stop questioning whether interest in us online is simply a desire to determine “where we’re really from.” Beyond the big screen, we’ve seen the powerful role our phone screens play in shaping real-life relationships. Online dating platforms can be more strategic when designing their filters, matching algorithms and guidelines to make it harder for users to act on their subconscious racial biases, and to penalize them when they do.

Mixed Race Dating App Login

But most importantly, it comes down to self-reflection. Confronting our dating habits and inherent biases may be easier than you think—there is evidence that we can change our racial preferences simply by making the first move. A 2013 study by Kevin Lewis, a sociology professor at the University of California, San Diego found that once a user messaged someone of a different race, their interactions across racial boundaries increased by 115 percent. Like any prejudice, exposure seems to be the key to overcoming discrimination.

Mixed Race Dating Site

I can’t blame any of the Asian guys on Hinge for basing their interest in me on my ethnicity any more than I can blame myself for once measuring the attractiveness of a man by the whiteness of his boat shoes. Judging someone by their appearance is inevitable when forming a new relationship online, but stereotyping based on race, and acting on it, only serves to further isolate us. I like to think we all have the capacity to hack our desire and deconstruct our biases; to undo the conditioning we’ve grown up with so that we can start making our morals our reality—online and offline.

Mixed Race Dating App List

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Harry Potter meets DragonBall Z

More than a dozen white candles magically floating in the air, provided light for the vast Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The flames of torches danced cheerfully in round brackets held by gargoyle statues set in the walls. The tall cathedral-like glass windows would provide more light if it were daytime, but now it showed glimpses of the night sky. However, no one was paying attention to the outside world. Instead, students of many ages were seated at four long wooden tables, chatting loudly with one another and eating their dinners. Toward the back of the room, teachers and staff sat at another long table that allowed them to view the entire hall. The Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore was sitting on a golden chair in the middle that looked more like a triangular throne. He wore glasses and had a long snow-white beard that almost glowed in the light. He gave a warm smile when he saw the new students enter the hall.

 The young witches and wizards stared at their surroundings, with agape expressions on their faces. This was especially true for the ones who had no experience with the magical world like their so called "pureblood" peers. It was often harder for those muggles born to non-magical parents to get into Hogwarts, partly because the staff and the Ministry of Magic wanted to keep all evidence of the magical world a secret from the regular "muggle" citizens. Yet, whether it was by luck, or unusual circumstances, here they were, about to get an education of a lifetime. 

   All the new students entering were dressed in black wizard’s robes, long dark capes, and pointed hats. Some of the people at the Slytherin table whispered nasty jokes about beating freshman up to each other. On the other hand, a pair of Gryffindors waved to them and gave them a thumbs up. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws merely stared at them politely. 

  An owl-shaped podium stood at the center of the room between the four tables and the staff table. A stool was placed in front of the podium and n that stool lay an old brown pointed hat. An older witch in long emerald green robes and a black pointed hat stood beside the objects: Professor McGonagall. Behind her glasses, her eyes observed the students as if searching for any flaws. In this moment, she accepted that the students would eventually learn the transfiguration spells and essential skills required for success later on in life. After all as head of the valorous house of Gryffindor, she had high expectations for all the students. 

 She stared a bit longer than necessary observing six strangers that seemed to be out of place. For one, they were taller and looked older than the eleven-year olds next to them. They were, in fact adults, who had used their powers that had accidentally led them to the magical world. In addition, she noticed that most of them had an unfamiliar vibe about them. Sure, she had heard or seen her fair share of humans, dragons, werewolves, and other magical creatures in her life. Yet, although the spiky-haired men standing before her looked very much like humans, there was something about them that seemed...almost alien. 

 McGonagall turned her head to look at a tall half-giant Hagrid, who was standing by the wall. Her eyes bore into his head and Hagrid knew from the look on her face what she was communicating. 'How did you come across these strange people? Why did you bring them here?! There is something strange about them and I can't put my finger on it.' 

 Hagrid suddenly seemed interested in combing his thick brown beard with his large fingers, even though it would still look messy. Before she could speak to him, the tattered sorting hat came to life and opened its mouth. The sorting ceremony had begun. Without warning, the hat began to sing:

 "I may not look like much at first

But appearances can deceive

For I have lived for many years

More knowledge than you can conceive

Long ago four sorcerers met

They wanted to teach the young

A school was built, a curriculum made

Hogwarts School had begun

The first of the founders 

Was the mighty Gryffindor

Who praised courage and honor

And those with great valor

The second one was Hufflepuff

Loyal, devoted, and kind

She accepted those of any skill

No one left behind

Intelligence was a prerequisite

For the house of Ravenclaw

Knowledge is greater than power

Stupidity as a flaw

Cunning and determination

Were qualities of proud Slytherin

Only those from magical families

Could be assured to join and win

Though these differences make us unique

We all learn under one school

To think that the houses should fight

Would make one a great fool

Try me on and I will say

Which house best fits you

No matter who you are, give it your all

There's always work to do."

 The room burst into clapping as the hat finished its song. McGonagall cleared her throat and began the ceremony. She held out a scroll that had the names of the students on it. "When I call your name," she stated, "You will come forth. I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses." 

 She called out the first name, "Abbott, Hannah." A girl with blonde pigtails walked up to the stool and sat down. After a moment, the sorting hat declared, "Hufflepuff!" The center right table clapped for Hannah as she made her way to meet her new peers. 

 "Bones, Susan," read McGonagall.

 "Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted.

 "Boot, Terry."

 "Ravenclaw!" The table to the far right clapped this time.

 McGonagall paused at the next name before saying, "Briefs, Bulma."

 A woman with short blue hair stepped forward. At several of the tables, groups of boys snickered and giggles at hearing her name. One glare in their direction from Bulma silenced them immediately. 

The sorting hat was so large that it covered her eyes. Without hesitation, the hat shouted "Ravenclaw!" Bulma smiled and waved as she walked down to join the Ravenclaws. She was rather curious about how these people were able to harness magic power from wands. She hoped that she could find out how magic worked and how it was stored inside the wands. 

  "Brown, Lavender" became the first Gryffindor and received a flurry of cheers from the center left table. 

 The next person, "Bulstrode, Millicent" was sorted into Slytherin, and made her way to the table at the far left. A red-haired boy whispered to a boy with glasses and a familiar scar on his forehead, "There's no witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin." 

 "Chi-Chi," read McGonagall. Another woman stepped forward, wearing her black robes over her lavender dress and white apron. "Do you have a last name by any chance?” asked McGonagall, with suspicion. “Not that I know of," she replied. "Everyone just calls me Chi-Chi." She pushed a strand of black hair from her face.

 McGonagall was about to speak again when Chi-Chi interrupted, "Can we just get this sorting ceremony thing over with?!" One of the men waiting to be sorted, visibly flinched. 

 Wasting no time, Chi-Chi got on the stool and placed the hat on her head. 'Loving, maternal, and might I say, quite a fiery temper'," mentioned the hat. 'You can read my mind?' asked Chi-Chi. 'Yes. I have existed for hundreds of years, ever since the four founders were alive. Hmm...this is quite a difficult decision to make...' Finally, the hat settled on "Gryffindor!"

Chi-Chi breathed a sigh of relief and made her way to the Gryffindor table. 

 "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" then became the next Hufflepuff.

 "Gohan," read McGonagall. A young man came forward, with a small nervous smile on his face. He wore an orange gi underneath his black robes. He had spiky black hair, black eyes and a hair strand hanging near his forehead. With the sorting hat on his head, the hat began to speak. 'You have lots of courage, young man, and you are pure of heart as well. You also seem to enjoy spending time studying, yes?' Gohan nodded. With all the strange things he had encountered in times of battle, he was not too surprised at the prospect of a talking, mind-reading hat. 'A combination of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. How about...Gryffindor!" Gohan smiled and walked toward the Gryffindor table after McGonagall took the hat. 

 "Goku," McGonagall read. "Yes, yes that's me!" called one of the strangers, waving his hand in the air. He was the tallest person of the group, with black spiked hair that went in different directions, slightly star shaped. His eyes were black like Gohan's and he had a strong muscular physique. He walked up and sat on the stool. 'Well this is interesting,' said the hat to Goku. 'You have a natural inclination to fight and achieve your goals. Plenty of bravery I see, not a bad mind...wait what exactly happened to your mind?' 

 After a brief pause, Goku remembered the event from his past. "Oh yeah, I was told that I hit my head when I was a baby. I think that is it. How can you read my mind?!" It hadn't occurred to him that he was talking out loud. Several of the students laughed quietly which was followed by the loud thud of Chi-Chi’s fit hitting the table. "Make fun of my husband again, and you won't be able to laugh again for a while!" 

 'Anyway,' the hat continued. 'Had you fulfilled your original destiny and completed your...distressing mission, I would say Slytherin would be the best choice...' "No don't!" said Goku. "I don't want to be sorted with the bad guys!" More laughter from the crowd.  'I'll assure you that not all Slytherins are evil...' said the hat, but Goku wasn't listening anymore. "Okay then, Gryffindor!" shouted the hat. "Yes!" exclaimed Goku, raising his fist in the air, and running to the Gryffindor table, sitting next to Chi-Chi. 

 "Goten" read McGonagall. A boy with similar black hair and black eyes came forward. "Let me guess, no last name?" she asked. "Nope," said Goten. He sat down on the stool, the hat completely covering his face. 

"And let me guess, you will be sorted into..."

"Gryffindor!" shouted the hat, and Goten ran happily to meet Goku and Gohan. "So many Gryffindors and so many G names. And I thought the Weasley's had this pattern of being sorted into Gryffindor," thought McGonagall.

  "Granger, Hermione," called McGonagall. A girl with bushy brown hair came up to the front and sat on the stool. After a moment, the sorting hat shouted "Gryffindor!" She smiled and joined her peers, earning a groan from Ron, the red-haired boy. After Neville Longbottom was sorted into Gryffindor, he ran to the table, accidentally wearing the hat. McGonagall had to take it off his head and continue the ceremony. 

"Malfoy, Draco." A blonde-haired boy came forward, with a smug look on his face. "Slytherin!" the hat shouted at once. Malfoy joined the Slytherins at the far left, pleased with the outcome. 

 "Potter, Harry!"

 The dark-haired boy with green eyes and glasses stepped forward. The hat was soon over his eyes and he heard a small voice in his ear. 'Hmm, difficult, very difficult, plenty of courage, I see, not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?' 'Not Slyhterin, not Slytherin,' Harry whispered. 

 'Not Slytherin, eh?' asked the hat. 'Are you sure? You could be great, you know. It's all here in your head. And Slyhterin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that. No? Well if you're sure...Better be...Gryffindor!" 

 The thunderous cheers, overpowered Harry's sigh of relief. The red-haired Weasley twins yelled "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Dumbledore smiled and winked at Harry. 

  After, "Thomas, Dean" was made a Gryffindor, McGonagall called out the name, "Trunks." The students looked in confusion as a man with short purple hair came up to the front. His hand almost instinctively went to his back, where he usually kept his sword in a scabbard. The hat was soon on his head. 'Brave, dedicated, somewhat reckless,' said the hat. 'I never thought I would encounter this in my life,' Trunks thought. 'But you are devoted to serving the greater good. You are loyal to your loved ones and will do anything to protect them. In that case...”Hufflepuff!" 

 'Not a good as Gryffindor, but I suppose it could be worse,' Trunks thought to himself. He joined the students at the center right table, who welcomed him and asked questions about his hair. 

 Ron Weasley came up next. The hat shouted "Gryffindor!" and a grinning Ron went to sit next to Harry. 

 "Vegeta," called McGonagall. The stranger in question had tall spiky black hair, dark eyes and thick eyebrows. He wore a blue shirt, blue pants and chest armor under the black robes. He resisted the urge to take the robe off.  His arms were folded and he had a scowl on his face. It was obvious that he did not want to waste his time being here. The fact that the old witch didn't address him by his title was all the more infuriating. 

 "For your information, I am the Prince of Saiyans Vegeta-sama. All of you should not forget that." "If you're royalty," called Malfoy. "Then can you tell me if both of your parents are magical? Or, do you even have parents, like Potter over there?" This elected angry looks from both individuals. In Vegeta's case, however, the anger was more apparent. "You dare have the nerve to mock me like that? I come from a lineage of powerful warriors, more powerful and noble than your so called "elite" families. How about I show you my power right here right now!" 

 The air around Vegeta began to heat up. Vegeta clenched his fists as sparks of lighting began to appear around him. His hair turned golden for a moment, then changed back to black. Malfoy stared impassively at him, while the others around him flinched back in disbelief.

 "What kind of magic is he using?' asked one person.

 "I don't know, but I think it's awesome!" stated another.

 "Stupify!" chanted McGonagall. A jet of red light shot from her wand and stunned Vegeta. Seconds later, Vegeta unfroze and continued powering up. 

"Somebody do something!" called Goten.

 Goku ran up to Vegeta and held him back. "Get off me, Kakarot!" he spat, trying to push him off his shoulders. 'You have to stop this Vegeta! The giant guy was being nice because we had magic powers that could help save this world!" "This world is not of concern to me, and neither should it be yours" he said. 

 "Vegeta, you start behaving yourself right now!" called a voice. Vegeta turned and saw his wife Bulma glaring at him. "Listen here, woman!" he said, "I was defending my honor and telling this brat..."

"You don't need to tell him anything!" she called. "Stop making things worse and settle down."

"I don't even know why I am here in the first place," he said. 

"Well the sooner you behave, the sooner we can leave and you can continue your training without interference."

 Vegeta seemed to consider this. With a deep sigh, he powered down and marched toward the stool. At the moment the hat touched his head, it screamed "Slytherin!" "Figures," said Vegeta as he made his way to the far left table. 

 "Nice work Mom!" called Trunks. "I'm used to it," she mentioned, clearly relieved that no one got hurt. 

 Finally, "Zabini, Blaise" was made a Slytherin and McGonagall took the hat away. Just then, another stranger ran down the hall at the last minute. His face was scared and his long black hair was tied back. He wore an orange gi, a blue shirt and tennis shoes. He was panting heavily as he reached the front. "Sorry I'm late. I couldn't find my baseball and I was busy talking to my friends about my skills in my last baseball game. He looked over to the friends in question: two Hufflepuff girls who were blushing and giggling. McGonagall, however, was not impressed. "I have had a long busy day and you decide to arrive just before the meal started. You're not even wearing your robe. "I must have...misplaced it?" he asked. Indeed, the robe had been small and uncomfortably tight on him and as a result, he had resorted to taking it off, and leaving it on the train by mistake. 

 "You're name wasn't on the list either, so I would advise you to leave."

 "Come on!" Yamcha groaned. "How am I supposed to know which house fits me?" 

 After a moment McGonagall says, "I reckon the hat would say Hufflepuff, but you will have to wait another time to get sorted."

 "No thanks, I think I'll stay here,” Yamcha countered. “Now where is the Hufflepuff table?"

 Yamcha looked around and then spotted Bulma. "Oh, h-hey Bulma!" he stuttered while Bulma gave him a look of disgust. "I'll ask you one more time, leave now or face the consequences," ordered McGonagall.

Yamcha decided instead to summon up some of his powers. "Wolf Fang Fist!" he cried. The outline of a wolf in energy form moved through the air in McGonagall’s direction. The students waited with bated breath at the scene before them.

 "Protego maxima!" chanted McGonagall. A sphere of light blue energy appeared around McGonagall and spread around the room. The force was so powerful that it knocked Yamcha back, and sent him flying out of the hall and down the stairs with a yelp. "So long, loser!" shouted Vegeta and everyone around him laughed. Meanwhile, Yamcha was curled up at the bottom of the stairs, stunned, but still very much alive. He slowly picked himself up. "Jeez, these people are so mean!" He then saw a brown toad hoping toward him. "Hey, I found a small brown toad here!" he yelled from outside. As people mentioned the toad, Neville exclaimed, "Trevor!" He ran down the hall to retrieve his pet, ignoring the laughter that followed. 

  After Dumbledore gave a speech about classes, Quidditch, and how the dark forest was forbidden, he announced, "Let the feast begin." Piles of turkey, potatoes, vegetables, and other goodies appeared on the golden plates in front of them. Everyone dug in to eat, but no one ate with as much gusto as the Saiyans. Goku's eyes grew as wide as saucers and he began to stuff food messily into his mouth. Some of the students looked at him in disgust, but Gohan mentioned casually, "He does that all the time." 

 At the Hufflepuff table, Chi-Chi savored the taste of the food. "My, this is delicious stuff. I wonder where I can find the recipes for this dinner. It would certainly make my husband happy." At the Ravenclaw table, Bulma was busy explaining how cell phones work and was asking why she can't use technology at Hogwarts. "Technology interferes with magic," a fourth-year boy explained. "The only way to communicate with the outside world is by owl." "But that's so old-fashioned, though," she argued. "If I could make some sort of device to channel the magic and allow people to text, maybe it could work." "But we are not allowed to do that," he stated. "I would like to try at least."

"But the muggles could access text messages and know about the magical world!" he said.

"That would explain the reason," she said. Gears were already turning in her head, even though she stayed silent. 

 Hours later, everyone was stuffed and satisfied, save for Goku who was still eating. "Dad, you have chowed down on six plates already! Haven't you had enough?" "Nope," he replied. "Food keeps reappearing on the plates. It's one of the greatest things I have ever witnessed!" Hermione was thinking of the poor house elves working themselves down in the kitchen. Dumbledore swiped his hand and Goku's plate was wiped clean. "Aww, man!" he grumbled in disappointment.

 Later on, all the students shuffled out of the hall and followed the prefects to their respective dorms. The Gryffindor prefect was Percy Weasley, a tall slender individual with glasses. He had a professional demeanor to him, quite the opposite of his fun-loving trickster brothers Fred and George. “Follow me, everyone,” he called. “The Gryffindor dormitory is up through here. Oh and keep an eye on the staircases, they like to change.” Some of the students looked up when they entered the next room and could see what Percy was talking about. Up above were dozens of staircases that were moving on their own. Some led to roadblocks, doors disguised as walls while some had disappearing stairs that could surprise unknown travelers.

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what kind of torturous trap is this?!” Everyone turned to stare at Gohan, who had asked the question. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?” asked Percy. “For one thing,” Gohan explained. “Do you expect these students and us to casually walk these stairs without fear of falling to our deaths?” “We can fly,” Goten mentioned. “We just hold onto the rails and wait for the stair to stop moving,” Percy explained.

“Also,” Gohan continued. “What about the poor students who can’t walk or can’t see? It would take hours to push wheelchairs that you humans use up those things!”

 “Well, with a few levitation spells, it’s not that big of a deal…” Percy started, but Gohan cut in. “Again, the falling to one’s death part, not to mention being late to class due to some faulty mumbo-jumbo development!”

  “That’s how this school was made!” Percy argued. “It will remain that way for many years more and that’s the way it is.”

  “Why not change it up?” asked Goten. “That would be a great idea!” added Goku. Several of the students nodded their heads in a new excited agreement. Others looked tired and somewhat fearful of the strange men in their group. “Can we just go up to the dorm?” asked Percy. “It’s been a long day and I have Ministry paperwork that I need to help fill out…”

 Out of nowhere, Percy got hit in the face with a splash of water. A blur of color and mischievous laughter followed. “Peeves!” Percy bellowed. “I don’t have time for this!” The poltergeist hovered in front of the first year students, wearing a bright red bow tie, stripped leggings, a hat with bells and a shirt of neon colors. “Ickle firsties, what fun!” he declared with an evil grin. He pelted more water balloons at the students who docked and covered their heads in fear. Peeves laughed some more as he threw a stink bomb in the middle of the crowd. Everyone coughed loudly and held their noses. “That’s enough, you bully!” yelled Goten, between coughs. He raised himself into the air and waved his hand. White spirit clones of Goten appeared in front of him and flew directly at Peeves. His laughter turned to shock as he swatted at the ghosts. “Get them off, get them off!” he cried as he flew away, knocking portraits slightly off their hinges.

 The students cheered and looked awestruck at Goten, who came back down to the ground. Percy stared into space like he had just witnessed a vivid hallucination. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Okay then, no more tricks tonight. Everyone hurry up and follow me.” “We can fly, though” Goten mentioned again. This time, some of the students came up to him curiously.

 “Can you take us up there?”

  “How can you fly without a broom?”

 “Where did you learn how to do your spell?”

 “Calm down everyone,” said Goten. “Let’s see how we can get you up there.”

 “We?” one student asked.

“Goku, Gohan and myself,” Goten explained.

 While Harry, Ron, Hermione and some other students had already started to follow Percy up the stairs, several other students stayed behind with the Saiyans. “Climb onto my back and hold on tight,” said Goku. Several students could fit on Goku’s back as well as Gohan’s. Gohan and Goku held the students by their robes in each hand.

 Goten came back moments later flying on a small yellow cloud. “This is called a nimbus,” he explained. “It’s how my family gets around without having to use cars.” “Is it like the Nimbus 2000?” asked a student. “Not sure what that is, but I guess so,” said Goten.  The nimbus was big enough to fit two other students. Soon enough, all the students were ready to go…most of them anyway. “I’m scared,” a young girl with brown whimpered. “You’ll be fine,” Gohan reassured her. “I won’t let you fall.”

  “Is everyone ready?” asked Goku. “Yes!” answered the students. “Hold on, here we go!” said Goku. Goten lead the way, maneuvering the yellow cloud under and over the staircases. Gohan and Goku flew after him, the students holding on tight. “This is awesome!” shouted a young boy on Goku’s back.

 Percy stood with his mouth open slightly as he watched them fly. “Hey, where’s the entrance?” asked Gohan. “Seventh floor portrait to the far right,” he replied. “Look for a woman in a pink dress.” The three Saiyans regrouped in the air close to the seventh floor. “I think it’s over there!” said Goten, pointing to a staircase that led to a portrait of a fat woman in a pink silk dress. “Good eye,” said Gohan. The students were gently placed in front of the portrait with grins on their faces. The other students jumped off Goku’s and Gohan’s backs. “Wow, thank you so much!” said the brown haired girl, who had been nervous before. “No problem,” said Goku. “Hey, why ride on brooms when we can ride on the yellow nimbus or these guys in the next Quiddich match?” said one of the students. “That would be fun to watch,” another student agreed.

 Finally, Percy and the rest of the group came up the stairs, much more exhausted than the others. Percy shook his head, not even looking at the Saiyans.

 “Password?” asked the Fat Lady.

 “Caput Draconis,” stated Percy.

 The portrait swung open to reveal a small tunnel. “Follow me,” said Percy and the students shuffled in. They entered a circular round cozy room with comfortable armchairs by a fireplace. The boys’ dormitories were to the right and girls’ were to the left. All the belongings of the students were already set up in the bedrooms.

 Surprisingly, there were extra spare boys’ bedrooms that were at the top of the stairs that were saved for seventh years as well as storage. Three beds were already made for Goten, Gohan, and Goku. “I love this place,” said Goten with excitement. “Me too,” said Goku, rubbing Goten’s head affectionately. “It is a good place to visit,” said Gohan. “But we really should find a way back to our world. Frieza has gathered another army as far as I know. He could attack at any time!”

  “It’ll be fine!” Goku reassured them. “I beat him several times and I can do it again.”

 “Whatever you say,” said Gohan.

  Off toward the west side of the castle, another prefect was leading the new Ravenclaw students up the stairs. Bulma marveled at the sheer size of the castle, but her legs were getting tired from walking up the stairs. She made a mental note to learn how to install an elevator beside the great hall or starting, perhaps, at the lowest floor. They finally arrived at the top of the stairs and stopped in front of a wooden door with a bronze eagle doorknocker. “Why are we waiting?” asked a boy after a pause. To answer his question, the bronze eagle suddenly moved, its eyes glowing white. From the open beak, the eagle spoke a riddle:

 “The more of me you have

The longer your life

The more of me you have,

The less you have left.

What am I?”

 The group stared in confused silence. The prefect observed the students. “You have to answer the riddle correctly to enter,” he explained. “We don’t have passwords like the other Houses do.”

 “It could be money?” suggested a red-haired girl.

 “What if it’s not a simple as that?” asked a boy next to her.”

  “Money can help you live longer due to access to resources…” she pondered.

 “But it’s not the same for everyone,” the boy mentioned.

 “I need to use the bathroom,” another boy pleaded.

  “Anyone want to give it a go?” asked the prefect. He asked the doorknocker what it was and the riddle was repeated.

 Bulma started breathing heavily from going up the stairs. She took several deep breaths trying to figure out the riddle and calm herself from a feeling of impatience. She quieted her mind, only hearing the sound of her breaths…wait a minute!

Bulma stepped to the front and answered, “You are breaths of oxygen.”

 “Exceptional answer,” replied the doorknocker. The eyes dimmed and the door creaked open. The prefect led the way to the center of the room, and Bulma let out a small gasp.

 A wide circular room appeared before them, decorated by blue and bronze silks hanging from high pillars. Bookcases were everywhere and it gave the impression of the room as a small library. The ceiling was painted midnight blue with white stars so that it looked like the night sky. Up ahead, there stood a white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw wearing her diadem on her head. “Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” were inscribed on the crown. Bulma looked out the window and had a spectacular view of the mountains. In her mind, she hoped that the citizens in her world were doing alright.

  “Follow me, young Hufflepuffs!” called the prefect, an older student with curly blond hair. The line of students followed the prefect like a flock of nervous ducklings. At the very back of the line, Trunks awkwardly walked along, towering over everyone else. When the group started to make their way down the stairs to the dungeons, Trunks was tempted to pull out his sword in case danger decided to come from them. Then again, he didn’t want to startle the students on their first day at Hogwarts. The prefect was describing the famous witches and wizards in the portraits on the walls, but Trunks wasn’t paying attention. In fact, he felt like a chaperone looking after kids at a museum. It was true that he didn’t mind being around children, he just wanted less drawling from the prefect and more brawling outside.  ‘Why am I even here?’ he asked himself. ‘Conton city could be in trouble as we speak and I am not over there to protect it!’

“Lumos,” said the prefect. A white circular light appeared from the tip of her wand. It provided enough light for everyone to see what was in front of them, but not what was around them. They appeared to be walking down a dark hallway, portraits decorating the stone walls on either side. One of the students let out a pained grunt and the sound of rattling armor was heard. A young boy had accidently bumped into a suit of armor standing against the left wall. At once, the prefect pointed her wand at the fallen student. Surprisingly, the suit of armor was still erect. “Are you okay?” asked another student, helping the boy up. “Yes, I’m fine,” he replied, rubbing his elbow. “It’s so hard to see in the dark.” With a relieved sigh, the prefect continued on her way, the students walking behind her.

 In the darkness, a faint rattling was heard.  “What was that?” a student asked. On instinct, Trunks unsheathed his sword. The students around him stepped back. “It’s alright everyone,” said Trunks. “I’m not going to hurt you. Now let’s all stay together so…” A loud cackle interrupted his sentence. The leering face of Peeves appeared from the darkness. “Oooh, more ickle firsties! How delightful!” “Go away, Peeves,” growled the prefect. Peeves replied with a blowing raspberry and an icy swoop over the heads of the students.

 Among the small shrieks, Trunks glared at Peeves. “I am Trunks, the Super Saiyan, and I demand that you leave at once.” “A tall student, making up names? That’s hilarious!” Peeves cackled. He tugged on Trunk’s long purple hair and dodged a swipe of Trunk’s sword. Peeves turned around and wiggled his butt in the air. “Trunks, such a funny name! I have trunks of my own,” he said, revealing a pair of red boxers. “Get out of here, or I’ll call the Bloody Baron!” called the prefect. “Oh, is that going to stop me?” he asked. “This might,” Trunks replied, firing balls of yellow light at the mischievous spirit. Peeves dodged all the blasts and disappeared hollering in the darkness. “Always have to keep an eye out for Peeves,” the prefect mentioned, calming down the students.

 The group continued down the dungeons, which were surprisingly warm instead of cold. A delicious smell reached Trunk’s nostrils. He was starting to get slightly hungry, even though he had just eaten. The students and Trunks caught a glimpse of the kitchens through an open arched doorway. House elves with long pointed ears were busy washing the dishes from the feast and stacking pots and pans into a row of empty cabinets of polished wood. Some were helping themselves to leftovers. Trunks made a mental note to not let Goku know the location of the place.

 Finally, they arrived at the entrance to the common room. Instead of a door, they stopped at a pile of brown barrels stacked on top of each other. “What’s the password?” asked a student. “There is none per say,” replied the prefect. “You have to tap the barrels in a certain order to get in. If you don’t…”

 Trunks swung his sword and sliced the middle row of barrels in half. Suddenly, a big burst of vinegar shot out and hit Trunks right in the face. He yelled and covered his eyes, stumbling backwards.  Several of the students laughed.

 “…then that will happen,” the prefect finished.

 “What in kami’s name was that for?” Trunks asked, rubbing his eyes. “That was the system for warding off intruders,” said the prefect, giving him a disapproving look. “Sorry,” said Trunks.

 “Now everyone watch me,” said the prefect. She tapped the barrels two from the bottom, middle of the second row in the rhythm of “Helga Hufflepuff.’ The round door swung open, revealing the common room. Trunks stepped inside and was impressed at his surroundings. The basement was earthy, with a low ceiling and cozy armchairs draped in yellow and black. The room was decorated with vines, hanging plants, and yellow hangings. A portrait of Helga Hufflepuff was hung above a copper mantle place with badgers carved into it. Round windows let in sunshine during the day, but at the moment, it allowed a brief view of the stars above.

 Trunks followed the boys trough a rounded barrel shaped door to the boys’ dormitory.  He entered a room where beds with yellow and black hangings and quilts were arranged in a circle. Trunks stood still and placed two fingers against his forehead. He closed his eyes and focused on his home. After a moment, he focused again. “What are you doing?” asked a curious student. Trunks opened his eyes and lowered his fingers. “This is, um…new meditation practice. To help with school stress.” “Cool,” said the student who then walked over to join his friends. Trunks let out a soft sigh. The instant transmission should have worked. He heard from another student that most people could not apparate in and out of Hogwarts, save for the headmaster. Trunks wasn’t sure what the word meant, but he assumed that it was the same as instant transmission. He considered teaching this method to the fellow students someday. ‘Maybe if I adapt to the situation a bit longer,’ thought Trunks, ‘I might be able to figure out how to get home. Where’s a time machine when you need it?’

    Meanwhile, the Slytherin students were making their way through the dungeons. Torches in the wall provided circles of light that did not match up to the oppressive darkness. Vegeta’s white ki mocked the darkness, daring it to try and consume him and the students. He was not pleased at the fact that they were in a dark damp place, rather than any kind of royal chamber. Reluctantly, he followed the students and the prefect, arms crossed, his face in a scowl. He heard some of the students whispering about him, some staring at his spiky black hair and widow’s peak. He had to restrain himself from throwing punches. The cold dungeon air was chilly even for him, but Vegeta ignored the feeling, not wanting to show any weakness.

 At last, the prefect stopped in front of a slab of a stone wall. “Pureblood,” he said. The slab of wall opened, revealing the common room. The common room was under the great lake, was dungeon-like and was furnished with black leather furniture and green lamps hanging from the ceiling. Vegeta admired the snake carvings above the fireplace. For a moment, he wondered if the witches and wizards would help him conjure a snake to kill Kakarot or Frieza. He figured that it would not be enough, but thinking those thoughts put him at ease in this strange situation. He then examined the snake’s long intertwined bodies. They were long structures, almost looking exactly like…

Vegeta gulped in fear as the thought of worms entered his mind. “Is our wonderful wizarding world too much for you, punk?”

 Pushing aside his thoughts, Vegeta turned to face Draco Malfoy and his cronies Crabbe and Goyle. “Heh, you boys he no idea where I came from.” He spoke in a condescending tone. “I am a prince and a warrior, though I’ll admit having to use magic from sticks is a lot to take in.”

  “You don’t know anything about magic,” Malfoy drawled. “My family have been in Slytherin for centuries, probably the wealthiest in the world. How can you call yourself a prince if you don’t have a magical pureblood family?”  

 “Look, kid. My father was the king of my race. My kind have conquered planets for many years. Basically, I arrived on Earth and then on a mission, me and the rest of the Saiyans ended up here.”

 “So where are your parents now?” Malfoy asked.

 Vegeta was silent.

 “Oh, did they die like Potter’s parents did?” he sneered.

 “Watch your words,” Vegeta warned.  

 “Or what? What are you going to do?” asked Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles. “Professor Snape or the other teachers are just going to expel you. You’ll be left homeless in the dust.”

 “I can handle the world by myself. It would be better than wasting my time with you.”

 “What are Saiyans anyway?” asked Malfoy. Before Vegeta could answer, Malfoy noticed Vegeta’s brown tail wrapped around his waist. “Oh, I see” Malfoy said with a laugh. “You’re some warrior monkey people from a jungle, right?”

 “Shut up.”

 “What if I don’t?”

 “Want to find out?”

 Malfoy removed his wand from his robes and pointed it at Vegeta. Vegeta got into a fighting stance, left fist in front of him. The students crowded around in a circle to watch. “I’d steer clear if I were you,” he yelled at them, the students moving backwards in response. Without warning, Malfoy cast a stunning spell at him. Vegeta quickly ducked and the spell blasted a hole in the stone wall. Malfoy shot a volley of spells as Vegeta dodged and powered up. He then fired ki blasts, one catching Malfoy’s black robe son fire. “Aquamenti,” said a student. A jet of water shot out from their wand and dowsed the flames.

 “Alright break it up right now!” called a voice.

  The prefect cast a spell that sent both of them backward. They both picked themselves up, giving each other looks of contempt. “The fight was intense so 3 points to Slytherin,” aid the prefect. “But if I catch you causing trouble again, I will dock 10 points, got it?” “Yes,” said Malfoy. Vegeta merely nodded. With the fight over, the students headed to their dorms.

 In the boys’ dormitory, beds with green hangings were arranged in rows. A small square fountain was positioned in the middle of the room. Vegeta scoffed. Did these wizards seriously expect a Saiyan Prince to share a room with these self-entitled wand waving idiots? Not on his terms. He lifted his hand and blasted a large hole through the rounded wall. Several heads turned. With both hands, he lifted one of the beds with ease and flew out of the hole. Everyone stared in stunned silence. He landed in the living room and placed the bed in the space between two leather couches. At least he had more privacy. Vegeta lay in bed, determined to surpass Kakarot as well as the house of Gryffindor. The sooner he could get out of this world, the better. The calming sound of the lake water from outside lulled him to sleep.