#i need more masked/obscured eye characters so bad.....................

[zorionbbq]

latenite revamp

[yanderelionwrites]

Trick or Treat (Male!Yandere x Reader)

A Halloween one-shot for spooky season 🎃 I didn't want it to be too long so it's a little rushed, but here it is. Enjoy!

Content Warning: yandere, breaking and entering, assault/grabbing, manipulation

Word Count: 1.9k

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come to the party with us? I have a spare costume you could borrow that I know you would look great in!” Your roommate asked, adjusting the faux dog ears that were sitting atop her head as she walked into the kitchen.

You pulled a candy bowl out of the cupboard, dumping the sweet treats you had bought earlier today and filling it up to the brim. You smiled politely at her, but shook your head.

“Nah, I’m good. You know parties aren’t really my thing. Besides, somebody’s gotta watch over the house to make sure it doesn’t get TP’d or egged or whatever.”

“Still, though, I feel bad leaving you here by yourself. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“You sound like such a mom, Mallory,” Your other roommate, Tristan, snarked, coming down the stairs clad in a black cat costume. “(Name)’s been home alone plenty of times before. They’re not a kid.”

“I know, but it’s Halloween! The holiday just makes being alone feel more scary…”

“I’ll be fine, Mal,” You sighed, though you were still grateful for her concern. 

“We should probably get going now,” Tristan said, checking his phone. “Come on, Mal, let’s go,” Tristan grabbed ahold of her wrist, dragging her out the front door. “Don’t have too much fun without us, alright?” He winked at you.

“Bye, (Name)! We’ll probably be back around midnight! Call us if you need anything!”

After waving them goodbye, you took a small table and placed the candy bowl on top, leaving it out front with a “take two” sign. You had only bought one bag so if it ran out, it ran out. Locking the door behind you, you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, excitement coursing through your body. You loved your roommates, but there was just something about having the whole house to yourself that made you giddy. A true introvert at heart.

Plopping down on your bed, you turned on your TV, scrolling through streaming sites to decide what to watch. In honor of the holiday, you naturally chose a horror movie, something you’ve never seen before but heard good things about. Cuddling up with your favorite plush, you get comfortable as the film starts, ready to experience the same dread and terror alongside the main characters.

That feeling never came however, because you quickly fell asleep not even 30 minutes into the movie. An hour had gone by by the time you woke up, with the credits rolling and the obnoxious sound of the doorbell going off. You stuffed your face into the blanket you were wrapped up in, hoping and waiting for the visitor to go away. The candy bowl was probably empty and some greedy brat was outside demanding for more.

You were forced to jump out of bed and stomp down the stairs when the ringing only continued, followed by loud knocking. Damn entitled kids. You thought bitterly, undoing the locks and yanking the front door back without even checking who was outside first.

“Look, I don’t got any more candy, so just-” You barked, but stopped mid-sentence when you were met with a tall figure dressed head to toe in black clothes. He had a hood covering his eyes, with a mask obscuring his nose and mouth. He stood eerily still, staying completely silent, only the sound of his heavy breathing being heard. It felt like an eternity before he said, “...Trick or Treat.”

Your eyes widen, backing up a bit and closing the door enough to shield yourself from him. You definitely were not expecting a grown-ass man to be outside your door asking for treats. Chuckling awkwardly, you stutter, “U-Uhm, sorry…we unfortunately ran out of candy…”

“Darn…that’s too bad,” The man’s voice was husky, but muffled by his mask. “I was really looking forward to having something sweet tonight,” He flipped his hood off before pulling his mask down, giving you a hungry look. “You’re wrong, though. The sweetest piece of candy is standing right in front of me. I could just devour you in one bite.“

Slamming the door shut, you quickly locked it again, disgust and slight fear taking over you. The audacity he had to just start flirting with you was downright deplorable, the creepiness of it all causing your hair to stand on end. Maybe this could be a prank? A stupid Halloween scare that would rack up millions of views online, with poor you being one of the unfortunate victims. 

Yeah, that’s probably what it was. You wouldn’t expect any less from this neighborhood, after all. Your heart was still pounding as you tried to convince yourself that it was just a joke, however, and you headed into the kitchen to grab something to drink. A glass of water was needed to calm your nerves.

After gulping down the cool liquid, you searched for a snack to chow down on. Hopefully if you eat something while watching your movie, you won’t fall asleep this time. Deciding on microwave popcorn, you popped a bag in and waited for it to be ready. 

Only a few seconds went by when you heard tapping on a window. It was coming from the sliding glass door that led out into the backyard. At first, you wanted to believe you were just hearing things, but the next taps were louder and incessant. The last thing you wanted to do was investigate, having had enough fright for one night, so you stayed where you were.

Good thing you did, because immediately after the tapping stopped, came a loud crash. You screamed, watching in horror as you witnessed a brick fly through the glass door, shattering it to pieces. Reflexively, you quickly grabbed a knife from the knife block, just in time to see the man from before casually stalking into your home. He turned to you, an eerie grin on his face as he approached. You pointed your weapon towards him, making sure he kept his distance.

“Stay the hell away! The fuck’s your problem, why are you breaking into my house?!” You shouted, putting on your nastiest glare.

He cocked his head to the side, as if he couldn’t understand why you were angry. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here for my candy,” He said matter-of-factly. Smirking, he curled his pointer finger at you. “So put that silly thing down and c’mere.”

“You’re insane! Get the fuck out of my house!”

“So rude,” The man huffed, pouting like a child as if this was all a game to him. “Well, if you’re not going to give me my treat, I’ll just have to give you a trick. That’s how this works, hm?”

Before you could even process his words, he lunged forward, twisting the knife out of your hands with ease. He was stronger than he looked, and within a matter of seconds, he had you pinned against the counter. You winced as your stomach dug into the marble surface, and you desperately tried to move your hands from out underneath his iron grip. They wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t struggle too hard, darling. It’ll make this easier for the both of us,” The man breathed into your ear. Chuckling, he added, “You’re cute when you’re scared, you know. God, I can’t wait to taste you.”

Your fear only worsened at that, struggling even harder even though it was useless. “W-Why are you doing this? Who even are you?” Your voice wobbled as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“Who I am doesn’t matter right now. And maybe you’ll find out why this is happening to you if you do some digging later. A little detective work, if you will.”

What the hell does that mean? You couldn’t dwell on it for very long, though, because the man was pressing into you even closer now. You squealed when he dragged his tongue along the shell of your ear, anger getting ready to burst when he only laughed at your reaction.

“Get off me, creep!” You snarled, and you actually managed to jerk your arm back and elbow him in the stomach. Hissing, his grip loosened, allowing you to push him off. He stumbled back, and while he was vulnerable, you promptly kicked him in the groin. The intruder yelped in pain as he fell to the floor. You took this chance to run, practically throwing yourself at the front door and fumbling with the locks so you could get the hell out of there.

“Yeah, you better run…while you still can…” The man groaned, but his threats hardly fazed you considering he was just a pathetic heap on the ground now.

Flinging open the door, you sprinted out of the house, planning to find safety with one of your neighbors. You couldn’t get far, however, as you ran into someone quite familiar.

“Tristan?” You panted, hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath while looking up at your worried roommate.

“(Name)? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Tristan asked, putting a hand on your shoulder to try and comfort you. “What are you doing out here?”

You sucked in a few more breaths before explaining the situation to him. “There…someone….some guy broke into the house… He was after me…he tried…tried…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, it was too terrifying to relive. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” Tristan hushed you, pulling you into a surprising embrace. It was something you never expected from him, but you returned the gesture anyway.

“He’s still in the house, Tristan… We need to call the cops and get away from here,” You pulled away from the hug, eyes now focused back on the house. “I left my phone in my room, so can you call them?”

“Yeah, I will,” He nodded, whipping out his phone to start dialing. “Let’s go back to my car and stay there until they arrive, okay?”

The two of you made yourselves comfortable in the warm car, and you listened intently as Tristan called 911. After he hung up, he told you that they were on their way and would be there as soon as possible. It was able to calm your beating heart only a little bit. There was a beat of silence between you two before you decided to speak up.

“So where’s Mallory? Is she still at the party?”

Without missing a beat, Tristan said, “Yeah, she is. I just had to come back cuz I forgot something. The last thing I expected was to see you in such a panic, though. Good thing I got here when I did.”

“Yeah… I wasn’t sure what neighbor would answer the door to help me, so I’m glad I ran into you,” You confessed.

Tristan laid a comforting hand over yours and smiled. “I’m just happy you’re not hurt. That guy’s gonna pay for what he did.”

You gave him a weak smile in return, before leaning into his touch. Seeing Tristan being so soft was new, but you found it sweet and appreciated how hard he was trying to soothe you. You closed your eyes as he wrapped an arm around you, glad that you were finally away from that creepy intruder.

Tristan let you rest, pulling out his phone when it buzzed with a text alert. Opening the message, it read:

I’m out of the house now. Sorry I couldn’t keep em pinned for longer, I know u wanted to look like the hero or some shit. Though it looks like it still worked out in the end

Trying to hide his smile, Tristan replied:

Thanks man. I’ll send the rest of your payment over in a bit, after the cops leave and things settle down.

Stuffing his phone away, he squeezed your arm gently, smirking at the way you moved in closer. You were so easy to scare.

Right into his arms.

[cripplecharacters]

so, the posts on this blog about facial difference inspired me to make an oc with facial difference- specifically strabismus and a port wine stain. she's pretty much become one of my favourite characters to draw and develop, ive taken care to make sure she doesn't fall into shitty tropes. however, i have had one problem- in the world she lives in, rebels like her cover their face most of the time. ive been really struggling on how to design her mask/covering in a way that doesn't feel shitty, and doesn't feel like it's trying to cover her facial difference. and i know that technically it's not as bad if she's not the only character who wears a mask, but i still don't wanna push it, if you know what i mean? so it would be awesome if you could give suggestions on how i could handle her mask. here's a reference of her for. reference, and some ideas ive had for masks. thank you for taking the time, and for this blog in general!

[Image description: Traditional drawing of a light-skinned girl with pink straight hair, smiling. She has a large port-wine stain on the left side of her face, and her right eye goes inward. Around her are three headshot sketches;

first shows her in a bandana that goes over her nose with "bandana doesn't obscure FD but hides smile + necklace" written above, second shows a half-mask that covers only the right side of her face, with "early concept, feels tacky, shows port-wine stain but not strabismus :(", third shows a domino mask, with "domino mask, do I even have to explain? No-go" next to it. End image description.]

Hi!

I think that something close to the second one would actually be kinda fun (no irony or sarcasm). If we're talking about a story where everyone wears a mask, having the character with FD wear one that covers everything except for the FD is actually subversive! I never thought I would say that, but it does feel like it is.

Not sure how strict of a design should it be, but a diagonal - her bottom right to her top left - mask would be nice!

I tried to write down a detailed description of what I mean but it was coming out rather overcomplicated, so I hope you're okay with me doing a few demonstrative sketches; a diagonal and rather-silly option, an idea for the bandana with a drawn smile and the kind of tie that would show her necklace, and an idea for the half-mask but with an eye with strabismus painted on the mask.

So here are the suggestions! I haven't drawn in a while so my skills are kinda rusty, but I hope it conveys the concept! My personal favorite would be the first one - I know it barely counts as a mask but then again, in comics it's common that someone is unrecognizable when they wear a pair of glasses, so maybe it's not as farfetched haha.

The second one would be totally fine by my standards, but I'm assuming that her necklace has some kind of significance in the story, so maybe she could cross it at the back and tie it in the front instead for it to be more visible (or wear the necklace over it even?).

I think that doing something like on the third drawing above would be okay if there are also a lot of moments where her actual strabismus is shown. In general, I think that the idea of a character with a facial difference wearing a mask just to paint it on the mask is kinda silly, and I feel like it would fit her character. But for something like that to work, she would need to have the mask off often. If you choose to do that, I suggest your first time showing her to the viewer is with her mask off, both for the usual reasons I mentioned before but also because strabismus is often used as a gag in art. For me, seeing a character wear that kind of mask with no context would be kind of eye-rolling - but seeing a character with a crossed eye put on a mask with the same exact kind of eye, go and join their friends at doing rebel things? That's actually something new!

I enjoy that your character seems to be on the rather joyful and happy side, I like that :-) (smile emoji)

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

[janustheeighth]

I am deeply sceptical of the current use of AI, with all of the plagiarism-by-proxy and ethical concerns. However, this excellent post mortem by the BBC has made it clear that we finally, allegedly, have a true, all-out AI huckster on our hands, Billy Coull. He has also 'written' 'novels', according to the BBC potentially with substantial AI help.

This story has delighted me, as it has so many others, partially for the inexplicable madness of "The Unknown, an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls" and partly the sheer *Scottishness* of it. The actors doing their best to "be the sparkles on shit" and make the best of a bad job, the Glasgow crowd knowing precisely who to get annoyed at (ie, not the poor souls in costume), Wonka going to the press and *fully* understanding the brief (per The Independent, he says "in some ways, it was a world of imagination, like 'imagine that there is a whole chocolate factory here'", and "I didn't know where I ended and Wonka began"). We have excellent journalists and (allegedly) Billy Coull to thank for this.

And how better to thank him than with some dubiously ethical AI. I for one wanted to know much more about that beloved Roald Dahl character, The Unknown. And so...

Let ChatGPT sing you a song of moving and yet curiously generic and oddly-phrased heartbreak:

In the heart of a vibrant town filled with the scent of cocoa and the laughter of children, there existed a boy known only as "The Unknown." Abandoned at birth, he was left to fend for himself in a world that showed him no kindness. With no family to call his own, he wandered the streets like a ghost, his heart heavy with sorrow.

It was within the walls of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory that The Unknown found solace, hidden away from prying eyes and judgmental whispers. There, amidst the whirring machinery and the intoxicating aroma of chocolate, he discovered a sense of purpose, a reason to keep moving forward.

But behind the silver mask that obscured his face, The Unknown harbored a deep-seated pain, a childhood marked by trauma and neglect. Raised in the shadows of the factory, he had known nothing but cruelty and hardship, his innocence stolen from him at a tender age.

As the years passed, The Unknown's bitterness grew, festering like a wound that refused to heal. Consumed by rage and resentment, he vowed to claim the factory as his own, to exact revenge upon a world that had abandoned him.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by darkness, The Unknown descended into madness, his dreams of redemption twisted and warped by the scars of his past. In the end, it was not the sweetness of chocolate that defined him, but the bitterness of his own tragic origin, a haunting reminder of the pain that lurks within us all.

What was next for this poor soul, you may ask? Well...

After a couple of tweaks...

...the AI lovingly generated this string of approximately human-like words:

In the heart of the town, where the scent of cocoa mingled with the whispers of the wind, there lived a man named Billy Coull. He was a cunning and deceitful soul, preying upon the hopes and dreams of innocent families with his schemes and scams.

For years, Billy had operated under the guise of a philanthropist, promising to help those in need in exchange for their hard-earned money. But behind his charming smile lay a heart as black as coal, his only motivation driven by greed and a thirst for power.

One fateful day, word reached the ears of The Unknown, the enigmatic figure who dwelled within the walls of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. It was whispered among the shadows that Billy Coull had swindled countless families out of their savings, leaving them destitute and broken.

Filled with a righteous fury, The Unknown vowed to mete out justice upon the deceitful man, to ensure that no more innocent lives would be ruined by his wickedness. With silent determination, he set his plan into motion, his heart heavy with the weight of his purpose.

Under the cover of darkness, The Unknown emerged from the shadows, his silver mask gleaming in the moonlight as he confronted Billy Coull in the dead of night. With a voice like thunder, he condemned the man for his crimes, his words echoing through the empty streets like a solemn promise of retribution.

But Billy, arrogant and defiant to the end, scoffed at The Unknown's warning, dismissing him as nothing more than a mere figment of imagination. Little did he know that fate had already sealed his doom, his reckoning drawing near with each passing moment.

In a swift and decisive move, The Unknown unleashed the deadly chocolate hounds, creatures born of darkness and tempered by the fires of vengeance. With gnashing jaws and eyes ablaze with hunger, they descended upon Billy Coull, their voracious appetite sated only by the taste of his treachery.

As the hounds closed in on Billy, The Unknown uttered a single phrase, his voice dripping with contempt and disdain, "get it up ye, ya bampot," a final testament to the justice that awaited those who dared to cross him.

And as the first light of dawn broke upon the horizon, the town whispered tales of the mysterious figure who had emerged from the shadows to right the wrongs of the world, a silent guardian watching over them from the depths of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, his justice swift and merciless.

THIS IS CANON.

All #Unknownfic should be written by AI, human imagination has no place where The Unknown is involved.

[sonicasura]

A few ideas that came to mind for the Vessel!Knack concept. The characters most likely to get affected are those who possible bad endings, died or been in a situation which had separate their soul from the body. Now I'm going to do something a bit differently around Knack 2.

The second player or Blue Knack is a prototype vessel for the other soul in our hero's chest orb. Heavy emphasis on prototype as the moment it breaks then the other spirit returns to their previous containment and the destroyed body needs to be repaired. There are further changes than just this.

Unlike in Knack 2, this temporary vessel will mimic physical traits of the soul when using relics to increase their side. Their Sunstone powered abilities also change to fit the respective fighting style. When combining with Knack like in the game's Co-Op, the appearance and abilities are much closer to an actual fusion.

There is one more detail I sorta forgot to mention. Should Knack be in a area heavily saturated in Relic or Sunstone Energy than the spirit within his chest becomes visible to everyone around him. This 'form' acts more like a phantom as their voice can be heard but they can't interact with the outside world.

Now with that outta the way, we can truly get started.

Jonathan Joestar

Figured I start with a pick from an older fandom I'm in: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. Couldn't resist the irony of an archaeology enthusiast awakening inside sentient ancient relics. Jonathan isn't fully aware about this new situation at the start.

His mind's really hazy during Chapter 1 of the first game. Jonathan barely get a few snippets from Knack's viewpoint so he's heavily confused about this new situation. Unlike the other picks, he becomes conscious much faster due his and our golem hero's powers being connected to sunlight.

Not exactly a good thing as frequent vision obscuring illusions(memories) throughout very hostile uncharted territory full of bottomless pits is an awful combination. Or that it makes your allies concerned about unknown glitches being left unnoticed until now. Doctor can't exactly reboot Knack.

The first swap between both souls occurs during the boss fight against the Goblin Chief. For those unaware, there is a unique martial arts in JJBA called Hamon. A breathing technique which allows one to channel sunlight like energy for various effects from healing to enhancing one's own weapons. Combine that with a golem who can channel sunlight into different forms of destructive attacks and you got a lethal force to be reckoned with.

Knack is essentially the perfect vessel for Jonathan to take his Hamon to unimaginable heights. The golem however was a bit rattled upon seeing the Goblin Chief's mech utterly destroyed in a blink of an eye(to him). A black out that continues to happen even more frequently.

Doctor and Lucas being the only ones to help piece together this strange new personality for Knack to understand. Though the story Jonathan tells is very bizarre to them with his evidence being the Hamon technique. A stone mask that turns those who wear it into an eldritch vampire and a evil foster sibling that uses said mask for world domination.

Now neither souls has seen their shared body so Jonathan is a bit suspicious about everything that has happened so far. (He thinks he is in a trap made by Dio.) At least until the golem gets tossed into the ravine and sees the spirit. Jonathan's phantom like form visibly apart from Knack's own destroys the remaining doubt.

It takes until final boss of the first game for both to become in sync. Jonathan still has difficulty trying to adjust to this new reality. You have to remember that his psychotic vampiric foster brother is loose in his world and completely unaware of what he's up to.

Knack does try to ease Jonathan's worry, usually letting the man take control so he could take a walk or blow some steam. The Joestar is quite happy once the Doctor creates his vessel as he won't lie that being cooped up without a body tends to suck. He does miss his old one but makes it work in the end.

At least Jonathan can officially try to become an archaeologist! He can't exactly stay far away from Knack but studying relics goes hand in hand with his work. A win-win situation although Jonathan might have a few bumps in the road.

Those being Knack 2 but also a destined encounter involving his past and the bloodline he left behind...

Sparda

I figured the next pick would be a character who I haven't experimented with that much. Plus someone needs to kick this devil's ass into gear at some point. Why not shove the Dark Knight's soul inside a the core of a little size shifting golem.

It takes longer for Sparda to gain consciousness since devil spirits take a bit longer to fully connect to a non human vessel. This has led to his power seeping out on occasion. Knack often finds his attacks or abilities more destructive than normal. Only warning anyone has is the chest orb's crystal flashing violet.

First swap happens at the very start of Chapter 4 once Knack connects with the giant relic in Viktor's mansion. Sparda is super confused and concerned about this new situation. He is unaware of what to his wife nor kids.

This body has another spirit inhabiting it whose already on their own respective mission. Sparda helps the group nonetheless as it may lead to more answers. Knack's a bit conflicted about him considering most of the memories he seen from the devil are quite gruesome. (Devil May Cry games in general very violent plus it took some time before Sparda decided to fight for humanity.)

It took quite awhile for Knack to become accustomed to the more brutal memories but does decide to trust Sparda in the end. He feels less instinctively isolated with the devil around from how different they are to others. A feeling that allows them to fully become in sync around Chapter 10.

Once the temporary vessel is made, Sparda's routine sums to wandering, reading or training. It is the only thing to keep him from overthinking about the family he left behind by his death. Knack does try to help Sparda with his worries even if the most the golem can do is reassurance.

The devil does drag Knack into some of his work routines which includes swordsmanship. He figured it would do some good that the young hero expands his skill set as he really doesn't have a fighting technique at all. Sparda stills retain some of his magic and often contemplates about making new Devil Arms from it.

He often tests the Doctor's new inventions mainly out of curiosity. A great way to spend some time but also experiment with the possibilities. Sparda wonders if he can incorporate Sunstones into magic or creating Devil Arms.

A thought that might decide whether the two will be ready for their new adventure. Or when the time comes for Sparda's past comes to show itself. Guess it's time to pull that Devil Trigger.

Tangeth Toborn

I decided the final example should come from a series that has faded into the background for a decade, Chaotic. The heroic lion-like Overworlder who gave up his life to save the world of Perrim: Tangeth Toborn. Lore wise, he came from a place called the Spiritlands and could only exist outside the realm through his weapon, the Sword of Kh'yat.

A blade later broken to summon him when a dangerous threat from said land came to attack Perrim. Taking this tidbit into consideration, he's the second fastest to gain consciousness as his spirit still had issues adjusting to Knack's chest orb. It did speed up the bombardment of visions between Tangeth and his new host.

Knack had to take a short break multiple times as the memories were so vivid to the point he gotten minor dysphoria. Lingering taste of foreign food, the stickiness on matted bloody fur, and hot flames that burn his flesh. Tangeth wasn't having fun either as it became apparent he's in the human world. Or at least some variation of it. (First Creature on Earth!)

First switch during the boss against the Goblin Chief like in the Jonathan scenario. Tangeth uses fire and earth elemental attacks which took some time to learn how to use again since Knack wields solar based energy. He also wanted to know the entire situation before he willingly decides to help the Doctor and Lucas.

Tangeth truly begins to open up during his shared time with Knack down in the ravine. Chaotic Players(humans) have often caused chaos for his tribe to the point that some were willing to destroy precious locations for personal gain. Knack is the only person who's able to get Tangeth to at least give this new world a chance.

Both fully synchronize with each other halfway through the last chapter of the first game. Tangeth adjusts very quickly to the prototype vessel the Doctor creates much faster than expected. He does have experience with soul binding artifacts after all.

Tangeth usually spends his time reading, exploring or training. He has some difficulty trying to adjust in a world with way fewer conflicts between its nations unlike back in Perrim. Tangeth later asks the Doctor to make him a new sword, one powered by Sunstone he calls Kiru. He swore a new oath on the blade that he protect this world from danger.

Tangeth has a tendency to drag Knack into his training sessions as he also believes the golem should learn some actual fighting styles. Why waste such potential with just simple punches and kicks? Yes, Knack ate dirt a few times cause Tangeth was a general for an army before his death so no holding back.

It definitely helps when the next adventure proves itself to be much harder than the last. Or the possibility of a certain dream episode could potentially come true in this reality. No worse way to test loyalties.

At least that's how I see all these particular scenarios.

[rhythmic-idealist]

BNHA Eyes and Mouths Analysis

BNHA has a dichotomy set up between two repeating motifs: visible eyes with covered mouths, and visible mouths with covered eyes.

For visible mouths and covered eyes, AFO and All Might are the prototype. Every instance of covered/obscured eyes with a visible mouth is, in some way, a reference to one or both of them.

For covered mouths and visible eyes, there are a couple different things one could call "the prototype," including Tomura Shigaraki (yes, the hand technically covers his whole face, but the "creepy eye peeking out" look is iconic and is what defines him early on). There's just way LESS of a "prototype" here and less of a need for one, though, because there's less of a need to allude to any one character.

But if there IS a true "prototype" covered mouths reference, I'm gonna loooosely suggest it's the Sludge Villain scene.

BNHA eyes-and-mouths theory posits two things: that eyes are the window to true emotion, and mouths are narrative-maker.

Let's talk mouths!

Covering a character's mouth is one of the quickest ways to indicate that they need saving. Not the only one, and you can't consistently expect it (Number 6 comes to mind, for example, as a character who could really use saving despite his imagery more regularly referencing AFO). But it sure does come up a lot!

When I say "mouth as narrative-maker," I'm largely talking about an association the text has between the mouth and control. The phrase narrative-maker comes from:

trying to explain the link between the mouth and control

AFO as storyteller

All Might as a symbol

Bakugo is a character whose covered-mouth imagery is EVERYWHERE. We have the sludge villain scene and the muzzle as the most obvious instances, but I would say the entire existence of Best Jeanist and relationship between those two characters—i.e. Jeanist's early distaste for the way Bakugo presents himself to the world—is another tally on this list.

Bakugo is also a character who grew up both expecting and exerting a lot of control. In fact, I would say his current struggle is defined by accepting that he is not built by his own two hands alone, so that gives you an idea of how reliant he was on building himself on his own, and how much leeway he had to really believe that. How much control he has felt until now.

We see that control challenged in the vs. Todoroki fight, when he doesn't get to win the way he wants to because how other people run their lives doesn't need to account for that. He doesn't get to rise in the way he planned to. He is not the only character in this ecosystem. And that is always, mandatorily, going to impact both his identity in other people's eyes, and who he becomes in reality.

He's muzzled and forced to take the first place pedestal anyway, and once unmuzzled, the medal is placed in his mouth—something I want to argue is similar enough to the "eat this" passing of OFA from All Might to Midoriya that I want to come back and talk imbibing at a later date.

(Also under that imbibing pin: OFA, AFO consuming those quirks/vestiges. Himiko Toga. And, and thank you Jacob for this one: Shigaraki vomiting, a recurring occurrence.)

During the Dark Hero Arc (aka Villain Hunt, among many other aka's) is the first time in a very long time that Midoriya has worn his full mask, and, specifically, that metal grate over his smile. It's reminiscent of All Might's smile, but it's him disappearing behind the weight of legacy.

Tomura Shigaraki is introduced as a guy with spooky eyes poking out of an otherwise completely covered face. He also is not the big bad.

The thing is I've been wanting to post about covered eyes and covered mouths in BNHA for MONTHS, and then I finally got this into a Twitter thread before transcribing it here. I see now that it really only covers covered mouths. We'll be back for eyes, real soon. In the meantime, here's a good thread Jacob made about it.

[boredwritergirl]

Day 30 - A Tale of Two Stars part 2

As much of a dumb joke as this is, I might revisit this later. IDK, something about Pearl interacting with ww1 versions of DC characters sounds kinda fun and i might want to explore that in more detail later

A Few Days after Pearl and Clark Kent parted ways, Pearl returned to the city to meet with her projectionist, who was about to drive his way out of town. But, Pearl managed to convince him to swing by her farm to pick up her things first.

As they drove past seemingly endless fields of wheat, Pearl noticed a wandering soldier along the road. As they tore through the dirt beside him, she tried to get a look at his face, his mask obscuring it. 

Pearl took a deep breath as she sat back, her heart sinking with grief, thinking about the possibility of her husband being on his way back home.

Clark noticed her irregular heart beat and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Pearl smiled, “Oh, it’s nothin.” she said halfheartedly, her mind still on that soldier.

As they arrived at her farm, Clark immediately got the impression that something was wrong, his super-senses immediately hearing the faint sound of something moving slightly in the basement. 

As Pearl ran inside, she commanded Clark to stay outside, much to his annoyance. But he decided to play along for now and used his x-ray vision to get a better look into the area. He could see the intense heartbeat of someone struggling downstairs, he could tell that it wasn't the struggle to indicate Immediate death or danger, so he decided to survey the rest of the house first. He noticed a normal heartbeat up on the top floor and the animals Appeared to be healthy enough on the top floor.

  As he noticed pearl walk up those steps, he used his super speed to dash all the way down stairs, where he found Pearl's mother barely alive. She had serious burn marks, some from fire, some from boiling water, both not enough to obscure the bruises she sustained from falling down the stairs. He knew he needed to get her to a doctor soon.

He picked her up and placed her gently onto a chair in the room. Clark looked directly into her eyes, calmly telling her, “I'm here to help. I'll take you to the hospital.”

But then as he looked up again, he could see the steady heart beat start to decline, he could tell that someone was dying and immediately rushed up the stairs to save him in less than an instant.

Seeing Pearl as she was in the middle of strangling her father to death, he immediately snatched the pillow out of her hand. He yelled at Pearl, “What are you doing?!”

There was a pause as Pearl was so shocked by his Sudden appearance that she struggled finding the right words at first. Her father, unable to speak or move on his own just sat there, fear in his eyes as he kept staring at his daughter.

“I-I… I couldn't just leave him there to die! I know he doesn't deserve this! But I don't deserve to be cooped up here neither!” Pearl cried, thick, ugly tears flowing down her cheeks.

“And what about your mother?” Clark asked with a Stern tone of voice. 

“That was an accident!” Pearl blurted out. “I didn't mean to! I never wanted nothing bad to happen to her, I just wanted to leave!!!”

Pearl kept crying and crying, running down the stairs and straight out her home, of course Clark had no issue keeping up with her.

“Pearl, you can't run away from something like this. Your parents need help, and if you can't take care of them yourself then you need to leave them with someone who can.”

“Then why don't you take care of them! You don't know what it's like! Having to slave away caring for two people who can never understand you, people that are either capable of shutting me down if they talk to me at all! I lived my whole life according to them, never being allowed to live my life! This dream was the only thing I had and I won't let anyone take that from me!” Pearl yelled as she was walking over to the barn, picking up the big, two handed ax by the barn doors.

Clark shrugged as he looked at her approaching him with that weapon. “Peal, put the ax down. Your parents need help… you need help.”

Pearl snarled at him as she raised the ax high above her head, “The only help I need is a ticket to Hollywood! And I won't let you tell a soul about any of this!”

Pearl swung her ax, her face scrunching up as she prepared to strike. But, Clark didn’t move a muscle, he let the blade hit him, cutting through his clothes, but the iron of the blade bent against his pecks, not leaving a scratch on him.

Pearl's eyes widened as she tried to process what just happened, her eyes glued to the bent, misshapen ax.

Clark grabbed the ax out of her hand, planting the hilt right into the ground before grabbing her. “I think I know someplace that might be able to help you. It’s pretty far away, but I’ve heard about an Asylum over in Gotham… maybe they’ll be able to help you, after we put your parents in a real hospital like they belong… I’m not sure where we’re going to get the money for all that, but we have to try."

[imperial-nuisance-rudje]

Exalted Secret Santa!!

and this year i will be taking measures to NOT be horribly late...!

Characters under the cut! Names link to Toyhou.se profiles with more detail/refs.

The Crimson Mask - No Moon Lunar, nonbinary (he/him), Tell - Opal eyes+eye scarring

Crimson is generally agreeable and friendly, though he tends to be somewhat cold with people he is unfamiliar with (due to fear, mostly), and his flaky short-term memory and sacrificed sense of time makes him a very strange conversationalist. He has a fairly easy smile and generally does not actually show true anger unless he is in an extremely bad space.

He is an exceptionally beautiful person with thick, kinky red hair (usually kept in box braids outside of Hair Care Time), nearly black skin, and intensely striking eyes made of opal, crossed with paler scars. He's extremely short, barely 5'2", though his raw presence makes him feel taller. He usually (though not always) wears a mask that hides, at minimum, his eyes, and more often he hides his entire face. He usually wears a qixiong ruqun with a light blouse, though he does add pants under the skirt for practicality's sake when he has to travel or ride long distances. He always keeps his artifact cane (made of moonsilver and bone) nearby, and also usually has a metallic fan and unusually heavy sash on him as well.

He has a hybrid form; when looking at the refs on TH, go for more recent ones.

His Iconic anima obscures his body almost entirely, and visually is more the vague, shifting impression of being hunted by a Utahraptor in a moonlit forest than something clear and solid.

Do not draw him doing anything that 100% requires sight to do or without his moonsilver cane--he's totally blind, the cane is an important aid for him. Any alternate clothing should be loose at the wrist.

Calligraphic Chain - Serenity Sidereal, man (he/him)

Chain is a manipulative little bastard man that hates all the bad shit about his job and most of his coworkers, and is at the same time a deeply sympathetic person who wants to make things better (though he has no faith in his work in Heaven achieving anything resembling that). He is used to hiding his deep rage and disdain for others for his own safety, so he tends to present himself as someone who is willing to help if he's helped in return. He has no stomach for violence, even as he acknowledges that it's sometimes needed.

Chain is a claw strider beastman--specifically, the tiny fluffy desert kinds (Velociraptor mongoliensis). He's very small compared to a normal human, only about 2'6" or so, and he tends to get stepped on by those not used to looking down. His plumage is a dull white-and-beige and his scales are dull grey, both colors common on males. He has darker markings under his eyes that make their golden color quite striking. His hands have human flexibility and movement, but are still tipped with raptor claws. His face is less innately expressive than an ordinary human's; he usually expresses emotion with head/neck posture and crest movement. This does not mean all expressions are impossible for him, just that he’s more limited in what he can do and many of the ordinary human ones he’s capable of are obviously not natural for him. His tail is long and feathered, and is held parallel to the ground at rest. He dresses very brightly and ornately, usually in cuts based on his native Chiaroscuro, though he's considered downright subdued for Heaven.

Mountain Heart Empress - Full Moon Lunar, woman (she/her), Tell: Jackrabbit ears

Empress is a rowdy, reckless, and headstrong woman who tends to punch first and ask questions later. The things she cares about she cares about at maximum intensity, and the things she doesn’t care about may as well not exist. Despite this she is extremely successful, having survived multiple centuries by knowing which fights demand a cut-and-run approach and which fights she can actually take on.

She’s a short and lean woman, with pale(ish) skin darkened by the sun. Her extremely long hair is a light brown with blonde highlights, and is very straight and smooth. She wears very little actual armor, most of it being the gorget and belt she wears, trusting entirely in her skill and regeneration to keep her alive. She flaunts her Lunar status by wearing lunar symbols like the one keeping her chest wrap in place.

While she has a hybrid form, it has not been designed. Her tattoos are on her lower back and have also not been designed. 

Ragara Shayun - Ghost (formerly a Water Aspect Dragon-blooded), man (he/him)

Much of Ragara Shayun's better qualities have been subsumed by his desire to see his house destroyed for scapegoating him. They still surface when he's not in a situation that isn't driving him into a murderous frenzy, but he no longer has any social obligation to fake not being full of acid and hate. When he isn't focused on his vendetta, he's a shockingly charming and witty man who tends to be polite, and at all times he is terrifyingly cunning. He remains loyal to and affectionate with the now-Abyssal who was his mortal lover in life, though their relationship has been warped by Shayun’s ghostly obsessions and Wanderer in Flame’s nature as a deathknight.

I don’t expect anyone to pick him since this placeholder pog is literally the only image I have of him, but for a body type ref the Viera i made using that character data is still viable (including the terrible case of gamer spine tbh). Shayun looks mostly as he did when alive, save for the obviously severed neck and a head only kept in place by ironclad self-image. He is a tall, delicate, pale, and pretty man with long, dark purple hair that he often elaborately braided--an affectation picked up by his time in the North. He was rendered odd-eyed due to a sorcerous lab accident, dyeing his left eye a magenta that contrasted strongly with the original dark purple in his right. He was nearly blind to normal sight in the affected eye, and he was notably more nervous and jumpy even despite having the ability to actually see the flow of essence after. He "wears" (insofar as any ghost wears clothing) the style he preferred in life, not what he was wearing at death; a mix of then-current fashions from his workplace and the Blessed Isle proper. In life he often wore vibrant eye makeup, and this is reflected in his shade. He has aspect markings of some kind, but I am not totally certain what they should be; have fun with that.

...I guess there’s Hunter of Hunters but they’re not visually distinct enough from their source material. If you want the challenge of making them visually distinct... have fun? 

Note that for all of them while I don’t mind, like, blood/bruises I’d prefer they remain mostly intact.

[goingmorry]

[One Piece Headcanons] OP Boys -> when some guy asks them if you're single

Part One | Part Two

Characters: Luffy, Sabo, Killer, Shanks, Mihawk

Tags: reader-insert, gender-neutral reader, overprotective, possessive, jealousy, violence

Author’s Note: Thanks for all the likes and reblogs. I appreciate all the love! 💖

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Easily gets distracted. The guy asks about you, and all Luffy can think about at that moment is spending time with you.

The question doesn't process in his head until the man asks it several times.

And even then, Luffy misunderstands.

He doesn't mean to make the other guy jealous, but he so does.

"You're their Captain, right?" the man addresses the straw hat pirate.

"Yup! I'm Luffy, the man who will become the Pirate King!"

"Right... I was wondering, y'know, as their captain... Are you aware if they have a special someone?"

"They? Oh - they're amazing, aren't they!" Luffy compliments you, ignoring the man's question, "I'm actually supposed to be helping them with their training! Maybe I should do that right now, huh?"

"No - That's not what I asked. I mean, do you know if they have a special someone?" The man attempts to steer the conversation back to his intended topic.

"Special... someone?" Luffy's eyebrows furrow in confusion before comprehension sets in, "Ah, I get it! Their crew! Their crew is special to them!"

The man looks at Luffy in disbelief, "No! That's not what I meant-"

Before the guy can get his point across, Luffy extends his rubber arms to fling himself across the island, directly crashing into your unsuspecting body.

"Luffy - what!?" you shout in surprise.

Luffy responds by wrapping his arms around you in a full-body hug, his signature 'shishishi' laughter ringing in your ears.

From across the island, the man observes your exchange with the straw hat pirate, disappointment and jealousy etched into his face.

SABO

He’s an absolute troll.

Messes with the guy by pretending to be clueless.

Ends up acting like a seemingly psychotic, overly possessive boyfriend. He's not. Trust him.

"Are they what now?" Sabo fights off the smile threatening to spill from his lips.

"Are they single?" the man repeats for the third time.

"Sorry, I can't hear you," Sabo motions to his ear, giving it a gentle tap, "I have trouble hearing. Can you please repeat that?"

The man's eyes soften in pity as he repeats the same question for the fourth time.

"Is who single?" Sabo asks again, appearing to make every effort to understand the guy's question.

The man clarifies another time. But before he can tell the blond Revolutionary to forget about it, Sabo perks up in feign recognition.

"Oh! Are they single?"

"Yes! You got it," the man exclaims, satisfied that his question finally got through.

Sabo taps his chin in thought, "Not that I know. Though I heard rumors that the guy they're with is a really fearsome man. Not someone you want to mess with."

The guy deflates at Sabo's response, "Are they now? They a pirate or a Marine... or something?"

"Mmm... Something like that," Sabo's fingers tap against the table in front of him, gloved hands obscuring the flames beneath his fingertips, "Ever heard of the Revolutionaries?"

The man nods in acknowledgment. "Rumors and the like. Never seen them myself, though."

"Same here," Sabo says absentmindedly. He motions for the other guy to lend him an ear, leaning over for a whisper.

"I would watch myself if I were you. Don't want to anger a group of strangers you don't know much about."

The man flinches away at Sabo's warning - or threat; the man wasn't sure. Sabo gives him a friendly smile in return, convincing the other guy that it may have just been a well-meaning warning between two close friends.

"G-gotcha. Thanks," the guy abruptly stands up, motioning toward the exit, "I better get going."

"It was nice to meet you, friend," Sabo calls out, his friendly smile morphing into a sinister one at the man's retreating figure.

KILLER

The definition of cool, calm, and collected.

Immediately becomes suspicious of the other man for asking about you.

Puts-thinking-cap-on.gif.

What does this strange man want with you? Why did he ask Killer in particular? What would this man do if you were already taken? Would he still try to pursue you?

Spends some time pondering but concludes that action needs to be taken.

Investigates your unwanted suitor and discover their malicious intentions.

In the end, Killer's cautiousness pays off.

Any chance they're single?

"..."

The Supernova's silence disturbs the other man, his eyes settling on the crowded room in makeshift comfort.

The sound of a gruff voice startles the guy into focus, body twitching in anxiety when he looks into the Massacre Soldier's expressionless mask.

"I don't know them," Killer says with finality.

It was impossible to read the Supernova's true disposition. His body appeared relaxed enough; arms splayed out in front of him in a civil manner. If it weren't for Killer's daunting presence and notoriety, the man would think that this blond-haired guy was your average pirate. For now, he had no choice but to conclude that Killer was telling the truth.

"Okay... Never mind then," the man awkwardly responds, leaving the tavern in displeasure.

- - - - - - - - - -

A masked figure looms over the inn you were resting at, sharp blades glinting under the moonlight. The Massacre Soldier himself was on guard tonight, eyes trained on the familiar body of the man who disturbed his peace earlier in the night.

Before your unwanted suitor can enter the lodge, Killer pulls him by the lapels, swiftly dragging the man into the back of the building - out of sight from prying eyes.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Killer says, muscled arms encircling the man's throat in warning.

The man clutches at the knife tucked underneath his coat and wildly swings his weapon at his assailant.

With little effort, Killer disarms and knocks out his opponent, searching the man's unconscious body for clues to his motive. Killer pulls out a slip of paper from the man's pocket and unfolds it. There's no mistaking it - a copy of your bounty poster - the price of your head neatly printed underneath your name.

"Tsk, should've known you were up to no good."

Another body to add to the Massacre Soldier's list.

SHANKS

Proud boyfriend™ alert.

He loves to gush about you. The fact that someone recognizes how beautiful and amazing you are - he's thrilled.

Shank's constant praise of you begins to wear down on the guy; he gets the message that the red-haired pirate is implying - to leave you alone.

Shanks flashes a lazy grin at the man beside him; attention renewed at the mention of your name. "Gorgeous brain and body, what's not to love, aye?"

Your potential suitor nods in agreement.

Shanks looks past the man and makes eye contact with you. You were happily conversing with his crew, enjoying their company at the local tavern while in town to replenish some supplies for the upcoming journey.

The red-haired pirate winks in your direction, and you fluster under his flirty gaze. Shank's eyes twinkle in amusement at your shy demeanor.

The man across from Shanks looks back and forth between you and the red-haired pirate; his mouth opens and closes at the implication of your relationship.

"That one's mine," Shanks answers the man's unspoken question, waving over the barkeeper for another round of drinks, "But I'd love to tell you more about them."

DRACULE MIHAWK

The only classy one.

Doesn't take offense to the question, doesn't beat around the bush, and doesn't threaten the other guy for asking about your relationship status.

If the other man has bad intentions, Mihawk will know. And he will take action.

His entire being is enough to intimidate most people, after all.

A-are they single?

Mihawk casts an uninterested glance at the man standing a few feet away from him.

Nowadays, there were only a handful of people who dared approach the World's Greatest Swordsman - the Marines and Shanks.

Rumors were circulating that the former Warlord had been traveling the seas with you - that the normally lone-wolf pirate had acquired a companion to accompany him in his seafaring journey.

Oh, how clueless they were.

"Yes, we're in a relationship. Them and I," Mihawk states, taking a refined sip from his wineglass.

"I-I see. Thank you," the man bows before briskly running in the opposite direction, away from the black-haired pirate's piercing golden eyes.

The next day, Big News Morgan publishes your relationship with the infamous pirate for all the world to read.

Mihawk's eyes widen imperceptibly at the newspaper clutched in his hands.

Maybe this is for the best, he thinks. If there's anyone who can keep you safe, it's him.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 308: VIBE: CHECKED

Previously on BnHA: Lots and lots of Shindou idk what else to tell you.

Today on BnHA: Tired Nomad Deku rescues Shindou from Muscular, and us from Shindou. Muscular is all “OH BOY I SURE CAN’T WAIT TO FIGHT DEKU AGAIN AFTER HE TOTALLY KICKED MY ASS THE LAST TIME!! I’M SURE THIS TIME WILL GO DIFFERENTLY SEEING AS HE’S HAD ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR’S WORTH OF ADDITIONAL TRAINING, AND ALSO HAS SIX FOURQUIRKS NOW, IN ADDITION TO THE CONFIDENCE THAT COMES WITH HAVING EIGHT OTHER PEOPLE’S SOULS CHILLING OUT INSIDE HIM OFFERING MORAL SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.” Deku is all, “[kicks Muscular’s ass effortlessly].” Muscular is all, “[gets his ass totally kicked].” I for one am very satisfied with this, and with respect to all, I would like to hereby declare this post a discourse-free zone. I’m just happy to see my son out here making good use of his FOURQUIRKS, and more importantly beating Muscular in less than seventeen pages so we can all go on with our lives lol.

damn Deku since when were you allowed to look this cool

from this perspective and with the smoke, cape, backpack, and mask more or less obscuring his actual profile, he looks less like a sixteen-year-old boy and more like a grownass man

OH SNAP

we got a glimpse of this in the cleaned-up scan of 307, but seeing both of his eyes looking so distinctively All Might-esque here is... whoa. I mean we know that his face still looks pretty normal underneath the mask and he doesn’t actually have the black sclera, but still, this is an awesome look. mini-Might

lol Muscular

you and me both. I mean no offense, but yeah

so Deku is just standing there silently

typical Deku. tight-lipped and expressionless. mum’s the word. quiet as a mouse. silent as a grave

okay no but seriously this is so weird and creepy though you guys. Deku please say something or else I’m just gonna mindlessly say whatever stupid things come into my head in an effort to make things less awkward

so Muscular is all “I should probably make a cool speech about revenge but Horikoshi couldn’t think of anything good so I’m just going to stand here clenching my fist real slowly”

“I’m not here to go on a monologue” he says, as he monologues about not monologuing

okay you guys I confess I have only read through/watched the Deku VS Muscular fight once because the arm-breaking is just way too uncomfortable for me to revisit. and so as a result, I have completely forgotten Whatever The Deal Is with Muscular’s eye lmao so let me go look it up real quick

okay so it’s a prosthetic, obviously, and he changes it out according to his mood. that part does sound familiar. I just can’t remember which eye is supposed to indicate which mood. don’t tell me I actually have to go back and reread this shit

lol I’m skimming through chapter 75 now and remembering/realizing that I hardly paid any attention to this the first time around because as soon as I found out the villains were after Kacchan my brain was like “TIME TO FOCUS ON THIS AND ONLY THIS NOW AND FOREVER” and yeah. ah memories

anyway so he started out with the flower-looking eye, and then later on he was all

which begs the question, how on earth could I have ever forgotten the most ridiculous panel I’ve ever read lmao

anyway, but so after all of that, I'm only just now realizing that this isn't one of his previous eye prosthetics in the current chapter; this is an ACTUAL FUCKING ROCK that he's just randomly shoved into his eye socket fkdsjlk

so basically (1) I did all of that painstaking research for nothing, five whole minutes of my life wasted THANKS A LOT, and (2) what, and I have never meant this more emphatically, THE FUCK

anyway so now he's leaping at the building that Deku is standing on top of. but he’s not aiming anywhere near Deku though, wtf

(ETA: HAHA YOU BROKE ALL YOUR MUSCLES YOU LOSER.)

...huh

lmao okay then. I hope those annoying citizens in the building next door are watching this go down and rethinking their life choices

dlkdkljk

just keep standing there pressed right up against the window, why don’t you. “WHAT’S GOING ON THIS SUPER CLOSE COLLAPSING BUILDING IS BLOCKING OUR VIEW.” well, folks, we’ve long since known there’s a critical shortage of hero and villain brain cells, but what we’re learning now is that civilian brain cells are also in short supply

OH THANK GOD DEKU IS FINALLY TALKING THAT WAS ACTUALLY UNSETTLING AS FUCK

SO HE’S STILL OUR GOOD, POLITE, WORRIED, CONSIDERATE DEKU UNDERNEATH THAT COOL AND MYSTERIOUS VENEER. for real, thank fuck, because I swear to god if he suddenly started acting like the Dekus in all of the vigilante AUs my interest in this series would have dropped something like 50% lol. just because he dropped out of school and ran away from home and is currently dressed like the physical manifestation of a Linkin Park playlist doesn’t mean he’s not still the WORLD’S BIGGEST DORK okay

I MEAN, THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. HE’S APOLOGIZING FOR THE DELAY

PLEASE FIND THE ATTACHED SHINDOU YOU REQUESTED. BEST REGARDS!!!

OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SUCH A BADASS

something about making bold, confident statements while obscured in smoke?? idk but damn it fucking works

ffjkkl

more importantly, should you tell him you actually need your copy of Shindou in excel format and not pdf?? on the one hand you don’t want to sound ungrateful, but on the other hand what are you even supposed to do with this

this chapter so far consists of like 50% smoke, but on the other hand Deku VS Kacchan 2 had a lot of cinematic smoke too so who am I to complain

OMG IS IT HIS ARMS

IDK DID YOU?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS. PLEASE, AT SOME POINT THIS FIGHT HAS GOT TO ACTUALLY ADVANCE THE PLOT

OHHHHHHH

IT’S EN’S QUIRK!! OH MY GOD OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY AWESOME

I CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF DISCOURSE RUMBLING IN THE BACKGROUND BUT I DON’T CARE LOL. WON’T CATCH ME EVER SAYING NO TO ANOTHER SIXQUIRK. GO AHEAD, BRING THEM ON, I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL but take it easy though Deku. don’t want to give yourself lung cancer or anything

also it’s good to see that in a very real sense he’s not fighting alone. the Vestiges really did mean it when they said they could appear more easily now. this is on a whole other level

so is this whole next page still En talking, or someone else? because whoever it is sure is chatty

okay, several things

pretty sure it is En, because he keeps saying “I suppose.” for someone who never said two words until one page ago, this guy sure never shuts up. we can’t all follow Muscular’s lead I suppose. oh my god now I’m doing it too

really like the suggestion of Deku using the SIXQUIRKS like tools in an arsenal, because that’s what he’s good at! it’s almost like he’s been training for this his entire life. “you value quirks too much” LOOK HE JUST THINKS THEY’RE COOL OKAY IS THAT A CRIME

where the fuck did all this rope come from

not gonna ask what the fuck that thing is sticking out from the back of his utility belt. Horikoshi will surely explain this

is that a fucking jetpack. I’m sorry Deku were six fucking quirks not enough for you. you can fucking float??? but JUST TO BE SAFE, LET’S STRAP A PAIR OF ROCKETS TO OUR SHOULDERS IDK

-- or wait, is this all supposed to be like a visual representation of En’s metaphor?? OH MY GOD AM I JUST STUPID LOL, DON’T ANSWER THAT. NEVER MIND. NEW LIST!!

rope = blackwhip

jetpack = float

radio = danger sense

and so I’m guessing that this ridiculously phallic thing is supposed to be a flare or something?? and that = the new quirk, smokescreen. well that was a fucking ride lmao we now return you to our regularly scheduled chapter

so now Deku is floating to his heart’s content and thinking that he’ll just sneak up on Muscular and vibe check his ass or whatever

WOOOOOOOO DANGER SENSE YESSSS I LOVE THIS FOR HIM

okay guys, I'm gonna press pause here for a sec to make a serious note, because I am loving the shit out of this, but tbh I'm having trouble enjoying it as much as I want to because I keep getting anxious thinking about the discourse. I know that a lot of the fandom has very strong opinions on Deku's character development one way or the other, and I want to respect that. but I also really have no spoons to debate this topic at all beyond what I’ve already weighed in on. so if it’s all the same to everyone, I plan on staying out of this discussion, at least this week

anyway! that said, YEAH BOI GET HIS ASS

VIBE: CHECKED. CURB: STOMPED. HOTEL: TRIVAGO

-- OF COURSE HE’S STILL FUCKING FINE LOL HE CRASHES INTO BUILDINGS FOR FUN IDK WHAT I WAS EXPECTING

dammit Muscular. how many fucking quirks does it take to beat you?! the annoying thing is that even with all of his cool new powers, Deku is still something of a mismatch against him. anyway r.i.p. to all these poor buildings

OOOOOHHHHH

you guys have no idea how intrigued I am at the prospect of watching Deku try to play both good cop and bad cop here lmao

anyway so Muscular says he doesn’t know, go figure

“I’m not here to make small talk or anything” he says as he small talks about not small talking

OH MY GOD DEKU

are you really gonna talk no jutsu all of these villains from now on?? that last battle really did have a profound impact on you, huh! interesting

you guys he’s really doing it omg

Deku this guy tried to murder a five-year-old literally just for fun. I mean more power to you, but holy shit you’re really gonna try to defeat Muscular with anger management therapy huh

I MEAN

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT RESPONSE COMING dlkjslkjk

FUCK’S SAKE DEKU, I KNOW YOU MEAN WELL BUT THEY CAN’T ALL HAVE TRAGIC PASTS KIDDO

but. I have to admit, I do still like that he tried. probably knew just as well as we did what the end result was going to be, but still. he made the effort in good faith and I respect that

uh oh

why do I get the feeling Muscular just got a whole lot deader

oh my god oh my god he’s doing the “powering up” stance ffff don’t fucking tell me you can still use your fucking arms here, Deku

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY WHAT’S THIS??

okay so basically he’s saying that whatever it was he sensed in Tomura, he doesn’t sense from Muscular. which, yeah, that sounds exactly right. good judge of character here lol

AHHHHAHAHA YESS

WHOOPS, GET FUCKED I GUESS

WOOOOHOOOOOOOO

lmao so apparently this is the belated result of Shindou’s attack from chapter 307?? I’ll be damned. good for you Shindou!! I always liked you buddy. please just take my word on that and don’t fact check that statement

okay lol the one tiny bit of discourse I will allow is that it’s bullshit that he just did that with his right arm. like, I’ll fully acknowledge that. that makes no fucking sense, and I demand an explanation from the Great Plot Hole Filler himself. he’s never let us down before when it comes to continuity so I’m trusting him not to suddenly start now

that said, we love to see a rematch against a boring guy settled quickly and decisively within the span of a single chapter. THANK YOU

I like that Deku implies that his power is being a smart nerd who battles villains using the power of ANALYTICS. he basically didn’t do anything except restrain Muscular and wait for Shindou’s attack to take effect while halfheartedly checking to see if he regretted any of that murder and stuff

(ETA: and almost forgot to mention, he made excellent use of all four of his active SIXQUIRKS. it’s like the chapter title said; this is basically him fighting all-out, and it’s a sight to see.)

also, as cool as the mask was, this just feels right. like, we had our fun, now let us see his face, yes good

anyway, I think this was a good start towards establishing What’s Up With Deku Right Now! so if it’s all the same to Horikoshi, I would next like to take some time to explore Why’s Up With Deku. that, and What’s Up With Everyone Else, Especially Kacchan. por favor

[mimzy-writing-online]

Hello. I had a question regarding your post about blind characters. I have a character in my WIP that must cover their eyes.. but it’s blind. He may need to tell people he is blind to explain why he covers his eyes though. I was wondering how I might write this character without offending. Thank you :)

I think I want to start by explaining the “covering blind eyes” trope and why it has become a harmful trope. I think understanding why it’s hurtful helps everyone learn how to handle it better.

I would guess that the “blind people wear sunglasses” trope comes from Hollywood for the specific reason of 1. wanting to signal to the audience that the character is obviously blind and 2. avoid breaking the suspension of disbelief by preventing the audience from catching the sighted actor look at visual stimuli (because disabled characters are almost always played by able actors).

But this changed the way the public expects to experience blindness. If watching a sighted actor wear sunglasses and say he’s blind is all the exposure to the blind community a person has had, that’s the only model of blindness they’ll recognize. If they meet a blind person in real life who doesn’t wear sunglasses, it’s going to break this built perception and cause an uncomfortable cognitive dissonance. 

And then there is the common “cloudy-white blank gaze” that pops up in media. It stems from the fact that cataracts is the most common cause of blindness and the appearance of severe cataracts is a cloudy film in the eyes obscuring the iris and pupil. It can also alter what color a person’s eyes appears to be, making them appear paler and grey in the beginning and then as the cataract advances it becomes more yellow/brown and alters a person’s vision to appear more yellow tinted.

There are lots of other eye conditions that makes the eyes look visibly different. Albinism for instance affects the color and structure of the iris. Eyes might be congenitally misshapen. The muscles might be weak or not work and one or both eyes point significantly outward. Someone who was born blind and experienced no visual stimuli might also have weak muscles around their eyes because they never had a reason to focus their eyes on anything.

And unfortunately humans have the habit of feeling uncomfortable when they meet someone who looks very obviously different from the norm, whether that’s a personal style choice (hair color and style, tattoos, clothing choices) or something they can’t help (a visible disability, skin color, scars). 

To the paragraph above, @gothhabiba replied with:  “it's very weird & ahistorical to claim that racism or ableism are some kind of natural "human" trait.. like frankly it's apologia”

You’re right, I wasn’t thinking beyond that generalization or assumption.

Perhaps a better way to put it is: I was raised in a society where I was taught from childhood to think that there was only one kind of human being to be. White, cis, straight, abled, conservative. That’s a very western thing and that’s a thing I’m going to constantly be unlearning.

Racism and ableism and homophobia aren’t innate, that’s a western thing that was forced onto the rest of the world by colonialism. And because western media created this idea that the world is white, abled, cis, straight, and Christian-value leaning, it taught people to think that was the norm so that seeing someone different from that archetype would cause a cognitive dissonance, which causes discomfort.

And instead of working past that cognitive dissonance to learn more and realize there’s so much more to life than media taught you, society encourages you to ignore that cognitive dissonance by sticking your head in the sand-- or TV screen.

So combine these two tropes or common beliefs together and you get something a little dangerous: the idea that blind people cover their eyes because they look obviously different and they’re ashamed (or should be ashamed) of that.

And if you’re someone who’s just gone blind or who was born blind and you have little to no contact with the blind community, then this societal belief that you should be ashamed of how your eyes look becomes detrimental to your self-esteem and further builds internalized ableism.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve read or watched a blind character cover their eyes with sunglasses because they were ashamed of how their eyes looked. And I distinctly remember a few times where a sighted friend of the character was trying to convince them to stop wearing sunglasses because there’s nothing wrong with looking different--which is true, but it plays into this fantasy of being the perfect abled ally who saves the blind character from being miserable. 

In an ideal world, the character has no reason to believe looking different is a bad thing or diminishes their worth or makes people dislike them. And if they develop this belief, it’s more likely that someone more involved in the disabled community, most likely someone disabled themselves, will set them straight. Or that the character will learn to accept themselves on their own, looks included.

But there are some perfectly valid reasons for any blind person to wear sunglasses. They might have an interest in fashion and sunglasses complete the look they’re going for. They could want to protect their eyes from UV rays while they’re outside. They may experience light sensitivity and sunglasses reduces any discomfort or pain. Those are incredibly common reasons to wear sunglasses whether you’re sighted or blind.

But there are some more complicated situations.

In your words, your character must cover his eyes. You never specified why, so my primary guess is that he has some kind of power that is unpleasant or has devastating affects and the only way to prevent it is to keep his eyes covered. My primary guess stems from this post where an anon and I discussed a retelling of Medusa, a hypothetical blinding of oneself to avoid ever killing anyone ever again, and what I think I would do if I was in that scenario.

So how do you write a blind character who must cover their eyes and avoid some of the complications?

1. Your character must always have the ability to say “fuck off, it’s my business, I don’t have to tell you why I’m blind or why I cover my eyes.”

Most blind people really, really don’t want to get into the nitty-gritty of why they’re blind and how they feel about it and what it’s like being blind with a stranger they’ll never see again or a new acquaintance they don’t know well yet. You have exceptions to that rule where sure, educating the public about blindness is a thing you want to do and you’re committed to helping your community, but I still have days where I don’t want to talk about being blind or disclose my medical crap.

And if someone doesn’t respect their right to their privacy or pushes too much, the blind character is allowed to be angry, is allowed to tell them off and complain without anyone else in the situation vilifying them or saying they’re “overreacting” and “should have just disclosed private information because big deal or whatever.” If they are angry, that’s their right, and it’s not unreasonable, it doesn’t make them a bad person.

2. Your character should not be ashamed of being blind or of covering their eyes. It is a part of their life, they’re used to it by now, even if they weren’t in the beginning.

The shame and internalized ableism is something that should be written about, but that’s for an own-voices story with a blind author. I don’t think an abled person will ever be able to understand how much society expects you to hate yourself and your disability because “being disabled is a tragic thing that ruins your life” and how that does affect your mental health, self esteem, your relationships with others, your medical care, and what kind of accommodations you can get.

3. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few sarcastic lines in response to uncomfortable conversations.

Stranger: so what’s with the...

Blind Character: what’s with what?

S: the... you know

BC: you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific

S: Your eyes?

BC: They’re... eyes

S: but you’re...

BC: Blind?

S: uh...

BC: yeah, I’m blind. *walks away*

Or this conversation:

S: *to some other character* so why are his eyes covered?

(author’s note: which, honestly, that’s fucking rude. At least have the guts to ask me yourself)

BC: If I look anyone in the eye they instantly perish.

*awkward silence*

BC: instantly.

Friend: It’s truly tragic

BC: *melancholic* that’s how I lost my sister. *chokes up* She was so young

Or this conversation:

S: Why are you wearing that?

BC: It’s called fashion Karen!

Or this conversation:

S: are you like... blind?

BC: yes?? why wouldn’t I be?? Wait, are you sighted? Are you one of those sighted people? You poor thing! What caused you to gain your sight? Do you have a car? A bike? Were you born sighted? What’s it like to see color? Do you miss not having to see 

God, I want a chance to try that last one. I haven’t interacted with a stranger in almost a year. One day...

4. Honestly, it’d also be cool if someone’s reaction to your character covering their eyes was like, “cool sunglasses,” or “cool *insert random character, even one you made up* cosplay,” (which is ten times funnier if this character is a notable figure in modern society like an actor who people might cosplay). 

5. You know, if he’s covering his eyes with some kind of blindfold, he should totally have custom blindfolds for his moods. Like, I have a mask that says “suck it up buttercup” and another that says “not today” because sometimes that’s the mood. And sometimes the mood is one of my floral masks, and sometimes the mood is my cat mask.

So, just some thoughts. I hope that helps.

Edit: a commenter said: “op, unless i'm mistaken this kind of reads like anon meant the character ISN'T blind but lies about being blind to explain covering their eyes? it seems like they made a typo on the word "isn't"”

So my original response to the question was based on the assumption that the character is blind. However,

If the character is not blind, then do not under any circumstances have them lie and say they’re blind to escape a mild inconvenience. 

It’s better to have the character actually explain the situation or straight up leave the conversation or invent a more ridiculous lie than to perpetuate the very real stereotype and misconception that there are people who fake being blind and therefore it’s okay to discriminate or harass them if you even suspect they’re faking.

Do not under any circumstances perpetuate that stereotype. Do not harass someone because you don’t think they’re blind enough.

[lucemferto]

I wrote that Wilbur scene I talked about yesterday. I don't know if I captured any of the characters' voices, but I tried. It's around 1,800 words.

Sorry to spoil the surprise, but this scene has a twist!

„I’m not joining you.“

Wilbur’s eyes grew narrow. His cold gaze lingered on Tommy’s face. The boy’s expression was resolute; unwavering.

But there was this slight twitch in the left corner of his mouth. Just the faintest quiver in his lips. A weakness to be exploited.

“This burger van …” Tommy hesitated “… it’s just history repeating itself. It will end with us hurting people again …”

“’With us hurting people’?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow.

As he stepped closer, all the determination that Tommy had projected seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. Wilbur gave him a wide smile – a thinly-veiled threat behind the appearance of affability.

“Tommy, we never hurt anyone! L’Manburg was a grand old time, Tommy, don’t you remember? Me as president; you as—”

“Maybe it wasn’t, Wilbur.”

Wilbur’s smile faltered. A glower displaced his once outwardly cheery disposition.

“You’re not making sense.”

“I’m not making sense?!” Tommy raised his voice, a blustering anger flaring up and painting over the insecurities that had been so apparent just moments before. “The presidency killed you, Wilbur! And it almost killed Tubbo! I can’t let that—”

“Tubbo?!” A hoarse laugh escaped Wilbur’s throat; more like the angry bellowing of a rabid dog. “Why the fuck should we care about Tubbo?! He betrayed us, Tommy!”

“T-That’s not true!”

Wilbur stepped closer; Tommy took a step back – but the walls of the van were already pressed up against his back. The older man was towering over him, casting him in shadow. A wild and manic energy was glinting in his eyes, bloodshot and red like sundown soon giving way to a dark night.

“He fucking teamed with the enemy, Tommy! What else would you call that?!”

“He still cares—”

Wilbur’s hand shot forward. Like the maw of an angry serpent, it closed itself around Tommy’s throat. All colour drained from the boy’s face – his complexion like that of a corpse.

“Don’t you fucking get it, Tommy?!” Little droplets of spittle rained on Tommy’s skin as Wilbur’s face inched ever closer to his. “Tubbo doesn’t care; he never cared! You were just a fucking tool to him, Tommy! Someone he could use and throw away once you were no longer useful!”

Wilbur’s dirty fingernails burrowed themselves into Tommy’s neck – soon trails of red were trickling down into the boy’s shirt.

“I’m the only who cares, Tommy! I’m the only one who ever cared about you!”

“Wilbur! Y-you’re hurting me!”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy! I don’t ca—”

“STOP!”

The scene halted; as though time had frozen. A figure emerged from the darkness of the burger van.

It was Wilbur.

Though he and the Wilbur currently choking Tommy looked almost identical upon first glance, there were some striking differences: Gleaming red eyes contrasted against tired brown ones; demonic intensity against a dull exhaustion. The first Wilbur seemed almost unnaturally tall and imposing as he towered over Tommy; the second Wilbur carried himself smaller, more guarded.

“I d-don’t …” For a moment the voice of the second Wilbur seemed to falter; but soon he snapped back to a more confident bearing; all insecurity obscured behind a steadfast façade. “No more!”

A deafening silence fell upon the van. Then, slowly, as though unattached from his neck, Tommy’s head turned to Wilbur. Brilliant blue gave way to a searing crimson; fear to a wide, sharp-teethed grin.

“Whaaaat? You don’t enjoy the little play I put on just for you? And I thought you’d be impressed with all the cool ghost shit I can do now.”

With a sickening ratch, two horns ripped through Tommy’s temples. Shadow swallowed his blond locks, transforming them into dark, slicked back hair. Murky, unkempt facial hair sprout from his skin as his once lively complexion grew grey and translucent. Smokey tendrils enshrouded the red and white T-Shirt, before it emerged as a black business suit, the bloodred tie serving as the only blotch of colour.

The ghost of Schlatt had appeared before Wilbur.

“Guess it hit a little too close to home, huh?”

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed. While the illusionary Tommy had disappeared upon Glatt’s arrival, the facsimile of himself was still standing there. Frozen in eternal wrath.

Wilbur’s mouth grew thin. “I wouldn’t do that to Tommy. I would never hurt him.”

Feigned shock contorted Glatt’s mouth into a darkly comical expression. “That’s not what he told me.”

Wilbur felt something icy sting in his chest “What?”

Glatt nodded. “Yeah, it was the strangest thing. I was in my gym doing reps, snorting creatine, you know how it goes, when suddenly I hear some … some whining.”

Wilbur immediately took notice. He knew what Glatt was talking about. The lump in his throat felt like it would soon suffocate him.

Glatt didn’t seem to notice.

“The sound of some low-T beta just letting it all out. And when I go take a look, who else should I find but—"

“Tommy …”

“Don’t interrupt me. Anyway, when I turn the corner, I see this real pathetic mess just sitting on the floor, sobbing. I told him to shut the fuck up, because he was throwing me off my game. But he just wouldn’t stop, so good guy that I am – you remember how great I am with kids!”

“You never were.”

“Oh no, I was! That Tubbo-kid, he had it good in Manberg.”

Wilbur flinched – whether it was because of the bastardized name of the country he had once loved and loathed or because Glatt’s words woke some memories in him that he’d soon rather forget; he did not know.

“You had him executed.”

Glatt nodded, a wistful smile curling his ashen lips. “Good times, good times. Anyway, the little ghost-brat … he tells me his name is Gommy.”

Glatt let out a harsh, bellowing laugh. Wilbur could not share his amusement. He had almost forgotten how much he hated Schlatt’s sneering.

The ghost still had not managed to fully compose himself. “Gommy, that’s such a dumb name! Gommy … you wanna know what a good name is?”

“Is it—?”

“GLATT!”

The sound came out like a bile-filled belch. Wilbur closed his eyes in exasperation; his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I figured … Does this story have a point or are you just here to waste my time?”

Glatt frowned. “What, am I not good enough company for you?”

“Not even in the slightest.”

For the first time in their conversation, Glatt’s face grew more serious. His red stare tore into Wilbur; almost drilled into his mind. Wilbur answered the ghost’s stare with what he hoped was a cold, unreadable expression.

But he knew that in Schlatt’s presence, there were no masks to wear. No intent to hide. That ram was the only man that could strip him bare.

Finally, Wilbur had to break eye contact. With a sound of exasperation, he spat out: “Get to the point!”

“‘Get to the point’” The false Wilbur moved his lips, but it was Glatt’s mocking voice that emerged from behind them. “Man, I liked it more when you were a little ghost bitch. You used to come to my gym actually; did some reps. Annoying accent, but damn, what a cute ass.”

Wilbur’s jaw tensed. He had enough of this.

“I’m leaving.”

With a few long strides he had reached the exit of the van. The cold, fresh night air was beckoning him; away from the smell of cigarettes and alcohol.

Then that obnoxious voice called after him again: “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Ghost-boy didn’t have the nicest things to say about you …”

Wilbur froze. His hand was on the door handle, ready to release him from this dark, stuffy room. It would be so easy to just leave; to rid himself of this headache. He did not need to stay.

“… You’re lying.”

A wide grin stretched Glatt’s thin lips – Wilbur couldn’t see it; but he could hear it in that tone of his.

“I’m the one who’s lying? No, no, no, I’m merely recounting what 'Gommy' told me.”

Wilbur turned around. Glatt’s smug smirk was even more unbearable than he had imagined.

“You know, after he was done bawling his eyes out and blubbering like a little bitch –“

Glatt’s face shifted into warped replica of Tommy’s – big shimmering eyes and a little doll like mouth quivering with exaggerated sorrow: “‘D-D-Dweam, D-Dweam, h-h-he’— Anyway, he told me that while my cabinet was having a grand old time over in Manberg, you were being very mean to him.”

Wilbur shook his head. “I-I’ve changed. I apologized!”

Tommy-Glatt let out another bellowing laugh. It cut through Wilbur like a knife through a paper door.

“You think an apology could make this better!”

Wilbur jumped back. The fake Wilbur began to move once more. With a thundering roar, his fist made contact with the fake Tommy’s temple. A loud thud; Tommy impacted with the floor of the van. But before he could get up, the fake Wilbur began kicking him in the stomach; screaming obscenities and curses.

It wasn’t Wilbur’s voice – it was so clearly Glatt’s poor imitation of his accent. With each kick, Glatt-Tommy’s eyes bulged out of his skull; not like a person, but like a grotesque cartoon. It was a farcical display.

But Wilbur – the real Wilbur – was paralyzed. His mind was clouded with memories and nightmares; fears bloated and distorted by thirteen years of isolation

“That’s not … that’s not what happened!”

Schlatt’s piercing, high-pitched cackling erupted out of Tommy’s mouth once more.

“Boy, Limbo really did a number on you!”

With a jump Glatt-Tommy was up on his feet again – his nose bloody and broken, his skin coloured black and blue; his hateful grin revealing multiple missing teeth.

“Not that you were all that together beforehand – ‘Tommy, let’s be the bad guys!’ ‘No, Wilbur don’t blow up Manberg. If you blow up Manberg, I’m gonna piss my pants—’ ‘Shut up, Tommy!’”

“I never hit him!” Wilbur’s panicked exclamation interrupted the smear show. “I never hit him!”

Glatt-Tommy shook his head; the satisfied grin not leaving his face. “That’s not what he told me! And what’s worse, when that green guy – Dream, I think his name was? – while he was using Tommy as his own personal punching bag, your ghost was off in the woods jerking off or something. And now you're calling Dream your hero!”

Wilbur felt as all colour drained from his face. The van around him began to spin; darkness and alcohol and cigarette smoke choking even the last ounce of the outside air he could smell.

“I-I …”

Slowly the façade of Tommy began to melt once more. Slowly, deliberately. A nightmarish display. Glatt’s and Tommy’s voices spoke in unison; their echo a cacophony in Wilbur’s ears.

“Face it, loverboy. You will always be a bad guy. No number of apologies will change that. He will never forgive you.”

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 4

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

-- Chapter 4: Library Discussions

< | Previous Chapter

The library offered a quiet solace to you that was hard to find elsewhere. Hardly anyone else ever occupied it, and you were eager to find peace. So much had happened in such a short time, you wanted to just forget it. You considered burying yourself into a book but instead to just drape yourself across a chair. You hung your legs over one of the arms of the plush chair, neck craned over the other. Your fingers skimmed along the floor, eyes boring into the ceiling.

Why was everything so complicated? Who were your parents even expecting you to marry? You figured you would meet him in a few days. Assuming he was alive, of course. Had he met an accident and died, and Techno had become crown prince? Why were your parents so upset about Techno being your fiancé anyways? Surely his reputation wasn't that bad. Perhaps they were overreacting. You had doubts Techno would agree to a marriage only to rid of you.

Questions bounced around your head endlessly, ricocheting off one another. You had very few answers, no bread crumbs to follow for answers. There was no way to figure anything out about Techno without asking him directly. Which would be awkward, since you seemed unable to properly talk to him without stammering over your words. What a fool you tended to make of yourself.

The soft thump of boots on tile jarred you from your musings, eyes opening to seek out the source. When had you even closed them? You scanned the library, lifting your head up to look at the door way. Techno stood there, the faintest quirk to his lips as brown eyes bored into your frame. Right. You were a princess, draped sloppily over a chair. You scrambled to right yourself, dress fluttering around as you did. You flattened the fabric around your legs, pretending that it had not happened.

From across the room, you could hear that same small exhale leave Techno as it had earlier. He really was laughing at you. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck again, and you looked away for a moment to compose yourself. "Techno, I didn't expect you to come here. Not that you can't, of course! Just no one does." You threw your hands up in front of you as you tripped over your words, cursing a little in your head. Damn it. Every time.

You were relieved that his amusement at your fumbling wasn't loud. You probably would have wanted to crawl in a hole if it had been. Instead he simply walked towards one of the shelves, angling his head to examine the spines on the books. "I needed something to do. My father is busy with matters I really don't care to be involved with." That was probably the most he had said to you in one go, and you kinda wanted to gape. You just nodded,before remembering he couldn't see you.

"Me too. That's why I'm here. Lots to think about," You said, gaze never leaving Techno. You watched the loose ponytail sway against his back as his head turned to look at you instead. You met his gaze as best you could, as if holding your ground for whatever reason. He simply grunted, turning back to the books. Exciting. Another conversation dead like it was nothing. That would be happening a lot, wouldn't it?

Your eyes tracked his movements, watching as he took a book off the shelf, flipping it over and extending it out in front of him, rather far, to see it past the school. It was certainly a sight to see. You struggled to suppress a laugh, it coming out in the form of a breathy giggle instead. You couldn’t help it. All this effort for intimidation with a silly skull, just to look like a dork when trying to actually look at something.

"Pfft- wouldn't it be easier to just… not wear that thing? It surely causes more problems than its worth?" You questioned without much thought. You blanched a little when he turned to you again, his hand raising to touch the tusks of the mask.

"I like it. It looks cool," He stated simply. Cool?

"It looks scary until you try to do anything. Why not take it off?" You pressed again. You sat back more comfortably in your chair, watching him curiously. You could hear him huff softly from across the room. He didn’t answer for a long time, and you were positive he was going to just ignore you. You wouldn’t entirely be surprised.

“I don’t like taking it off around people outside of my castle.” You supposed it made fair enough sense. Kind of.

“Does it have to do with your scary reputation, or whatever it is?” You pressed on your questioning. You might as well while you were being given the chance. He carried on his way of perusing the books, grabbing a few and holding onto them.

“Yeah, something like that,” He murmured. You did consider asking him more about the mask, but didn’t want to push it. Something told you that it would be pointless. It was a subject to be pushed another day. Which you were alright with, in truth. You were going to have plenty of time with him to figure things out. The library lapsed into silence, though it wasn’t as unbearable as previous ones. He just continued on his way of choosing books, and you could only think about everything. Your future was very obscured, honestly. You didn’t know what to expect from it.

Your head leaned back as you thought about it all. What was his kingdom like? His family? Would it be warm and welcoming? Or would it be cold? You hoped it was warm, you wouldn’t last in a cold environment. You sighed softly, staring at the ceiling. That was the worst part of this all. The unknown factor of your future.

Books hit the table across from you, causing you to jerk your head up. Techno slid into one of the nearby chairs, lounging into it. You blinked a little in surprise, having expected him to leave the library the moment he had picked out his books. You paused, thinking on if you should start up another conversation. Surely he couldn’t read with that mask on. Not conventionally, at least.

After a few heartbeats, you decided it definitely wouldn’t hurt. “What’s your home like?” You murmured, trying to stamp down the apprehension you felt. Surely it was natural, but it was kind of embarrassing all the same. You toyed with the fabric of your dress, awaiting his answer. It was so hard to read his face, to tell what he was thinking.

“Nice. Mostly quiet, if you ignore my brothers. It’s not too bad there, not too different from here. You’ll probably like it,” He murmured, eyeing the books on the table. You had a feeling he wouldn’t be reading them until he went back to his room.

“Your brothers? What are they like?”

“I have 2, Wilbur and Tommy. There’s also Tubbo, he’s best friends with Tommy so he’s like a brother as well. Wilbur isn’t too loud on his own, he’s nice. Tommy is… loud, and crude. Obnoxious at times,” He sighed, head shaking slightly. “Tubbo is kind. Tommy makes all of them very loud, though. It can be unbearable.” You let a small laugh escape your lips. You supposed that it would be entertaining. If you could deal with them, at least.

“Sounds… Interesting,” You fished around for the right word to describe it, offering up a small smile. He glanced to the side, rubbing at his neck as silence lapsed over the two of you again. This happened a lot, didn’t it? Hopefully it got better with time.

Next Chapter | >

[wincore]

vixen | nakamoto yuta

pairing: kitsune!yuta x female!reader

words: 5.1k 

summary: every year, you visit the fox who claims to know everything about you. 

genre: fantasy/folklore, fluff, angst(?)

warnings: suggestive, mention of past bullying, one excessively flirty nakamoto yuta

song rec(s): clear and sunny - sou (cover)

a/n: this is for all you furries who aren’t quite furries yet muah (im joking) but aaaa love exploring folklore and also i should put in a disclaimer that not every aspect adheres to the original tales of the kitsune <3 i did not proofread btw and i am very sorry

Some things never change.

Examples: boys, shitty friends, death, and the scent of nostalgia. To you, that very scent happens to be the earthy smell of chrysanthemums and a faint waft of spices from the kitchen in your parents’ house. To you, October is not just another month. To you, there is one more thing that never changes and it is not your belief in old ghost stories. 

Around this time of the year, the autumn festival begins in a flurry of vibrant red smudges and a whiff of excitement, in streets suddenly brought alive. The skies are candied orange, and it’s the only time you aren’t tired of home. This time is also when you find yourself right in the clutches of the one demon you swore you’d avoid for the rest of your life. You swore. It’s not your fault that said demon is a little, let’s say, tempting. 

Tempting in the most vexing, infuriating way possible. Bewitching, cruel, seducing—all that foxes are and all that you’ve heard of them could not have prepared you for an encounter. Folklore runs deep through you. The memories of a certain fox-boy run deeper. 

It is not the festival you are here for. 

You yawn, leaning against the wooden door frame of the shop. It would be inappropriate to fall asleep on the job, especially since there are a bunch of children staring idly at you. You close your mouth quickly, resting the back of your hand against your lips. Late afternoon is an easy time to fall asleep. You have half the mind to snarl at the kids to scare them off, their gaze getting on your nerves and when you think you will, you turn the other way. Manners come first to you, no matter how temperamental you get. 

The procession has gathered a crowd. Some shouts and squeals from the children make you slump further. At least they’re having fun with whatever stupid game they’re playing. You breathe in the autumn air. A part of you wonders if you simply let your feet lead you down the stairs, you’d be free of this entire ordeal. You shake your head. Temptation has always been hard to resist—never meant to be resisted but you’re much older now. There is dignity to be answered.

October is mild—your grandmother’s shop is still on the verge of collapse, your mother still yells at you for misplacing kitchen utensils and your old friends from school still gossip about who you’re dating. It’s like the script never changes; people change the meaning, twist their words in the same old pattern. If you were a little less behaved, you would have poured your drink over their heads yesterday. 

You clench your jaw. It’s always an ‘Oh, you’re so attractive’ and an ‘I wish I could date as many men as you do but I’m loyal to my boyfriend’, or even a ‘Must be nice being surrounded by boys all the time’. You know what they mean. It’s not the first time you’ve been called a fox, and you don’t think it’ll be the last—at least until you decide to stop letting your hometown suffocate you. Maybe you’ll accept what they say. You have heard of what hatred left unchecked can do.

If you’re honest, you haven’t been with too many men. If you’re a little more honest, none of them have ever made your heart race.

You watch the children play with a keen eye, their painted masks ridiculously large for their faces and in brightly coloured clothes contrasting well with the town. You might not be allowed to fall asleep, but there’s nothing against closing your eyes for a second or two.

The image of glinting yellow eyes and a fanged smile pop up and you quickly open your eyes. You don’t know why your heart beats so loud at the mere thought of him, thoughts in which his lips are full and painted red, and his bright smile is stretched upon them. Sometimes, the thought of him is in gentle washes, his hand fixing your hair, or a flirty smile when you dare stumble upon him on a particularly sleepless night. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. That is not love. Some sort of embarrassing attraction, maybe. However, the friendship you have is worse.

“I see you’re a slacker as always.”

Your grandmother’s voice breaks you out of your cycle of thoughts and you’re almost grateful.

“I sold approximately zero sweets,” you snort. “Why can’t we just do away with the shop?”

“You’re starting to sound like your mother,” your grandma calls from behind one of the counters, distaste ringing clear in her voice. 

You sigh. “Fine, but… you work way too hard to make these for them to not sell.”

“Maybe they would sell if a certain little lady would stay and help.”

You groan, leaning your head back. “You know I have work in the city.”

Your grandmother waves her hand about, dismissing your reasoning. She fiddles around in the shadows for a bit before coming forward with more boxes than she should be able to hold.

“You don’t have to feel too guilty. Yuta’s been helping out,” your grandmother informs fondly. “You could learn a thing or two from him.”

You’re not the superstitious sort and yet still, your heart beats faster. For him, or for the bad omens foxes bring to a household—you don’t know.

You scoff instead. “He’s not as great a guy as you think, grandma. He can be really mean too!”

“Oh, I doubt that. Have you seen his smile? Impossible.” Your grandmother waves it off before drawing nearer, voice hushed without reason. “Have you thought about it then? He is handsome, isn’t he?”

“Grandma.”

You’re not sure what old women go through in their youth that makes them something of a matchmaker in their later years. You think the whole ordeal is messed up. There is no way you’re going to stick your nose into your grandchildren’s love life; it’s gross.

“These should be enough for the children, no?” Your grandmother asks and you look up.

“You’re giving them away for free?” you question, furrowing your eyebrows. “And you talk about bad business.”

She places her hand on her hip, pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re going to lecture your grandmother?”

You raise your hands up in defeat, standing up to help her with the red boxes of acorn candy and paper wraps of roasted chestnuts. You end up with the entire load in your arms, your grandmother happily shuffling about as she locks up the store.

You turn sharply at the surprised sound behind you. The evening has settled in and glowing lanterns bring forward the evidence, the darkening streets flooding with round droplets of light.

But it is not the festival you are looking at.

Yuta looks somewhat serene, your cheeks heating up despite yourself. You look at him with bated breath, hoping the boxes obscure your face enough to make the vaguely positive emotions less evident. The dark red jacket draped over his shoulder does not look out of place—in fact, he fits in so well you would’ve mistaken him for another face in the crowd if he weren’t stupidly gorgeous. He looks at you with no strong emotion in the eyes before breaking into a smile; and when his hand strokes the top of your head as a greeting, he seems fond. He always does.

“Grandma,” he calls with his best smile, turning to the old woman.

Your grandmother doesn’t need any more convincing of his character. 

“Oh, there you are! Did I tell you (name)’s back? I wanted to break the news to you earlier. Ah…I must have forgotten.”

You glance from Yuta to her. Is this another one of her tricks and tests?

“She’s always here this time of the year,” he responds, laughing politely.

“Ah, you remembered,” she says, eyes crescent as she smiles back. “Help her with the boxes. The city has made her so frail.”

“I’m good,” you choke on the words, hurriedly moving away and almost dropping one of the boxes.

You slip on your sandals and scurry off faster, wishing he’d just stay behind. He always has. The air makes you shiver but you’re adamant; and it’s not the only trait of yours to make relationships fail.

“You know, you should be nicer to old friends.”

You try not to react when Yuta takes the boxes from you, matching your pace almost effortlessly.

“I thought foxes ran away once they’re found out,” you snap, reluctantly letting him take the packages.

Yuta rolls his eyes. “I see you still aren’t very fond of me.”

“Not when you’re tricking my grandmother like this,” you hiss.

“You call helping trickery?” he retaliates.

“Foxes bring bad business,” you mutter.

“I’m the reason your grandmother’s business is somewhat above the water.”

You sigh, exasperated. There’s no point in wasting your breath. You look away, crossing your arms as you walk, the silence between the two of you suddenly awkward. Even so, you’re not going to open your mouth for him.

“Would you two slow down?” your grandmother calls, voice weary. “We’re already there.”

The two of you halt in your tracks immediately, taking mellow steps back to her. She looks over the two of you with furrowed eyebrows and you try to think of an explanation when she starts laughing.

“Oh, I don’t mind the two of you flirting,” she says, littered with slow laughter. “Just make sure the food is where it’s supposed to be.”

You’re about to refute when Yuta laughs, the sound still boyish and lively. “Of course. (name) missed me so much this year, she couldn’t help herself.”

You give him a pointed look which he ignores, deliberately or not. “We- I wasn’t—”

“Grandmother, if you’ll give us permission,” he interrupts, settling the packages on the table by the food stall and smiling wide. “We’ll go enjoy the festival now.”

She bobs her head in affirmation and Yuta grabs your hand to pull you into the bustling street, your silent plea for help ignored by your smug grandmother.

“What are you doing?” you ask, slipping your hand from his. “You aren’t- You aren’t trying to eat my liver, are you?”

“Why the liver? Can’t I have the rest of you too?”

It’s not like you were particularly alarmed but his response makes you feel a flush of embarrassment.

“It’s been a year since I last saw you,” he says before his voice turns a shade cooler. “Have you thought about my proposal?”

You fall silent. The overthinking started last year too. Your thoughts and dreams, so easily pervaded by him and all it took was one sentence. 

“We should get married.”

“Why did you even think I’d agree to that?” You try not to get too flustered. He knows all your petty weaknesses and you’d rather not have them on display for him to stare and pick at. “What the fuck would I get out of marrying you?”

Yuta whistles. “I like your tongue. But—yes, to answer your question, you’d get a very handsome and capable husband. Your bed will always be warm and oh, speaking of beds—”

You clamp your hand over his mouth at the suggestive look he sends, worried about being spotted by one of your school friends. Ah, right—friends, the very same people that smell of jealousy and won’t miss any opportunity to throw a jab your way. Friends. You can’t believe you’re still afraid of their judgement.

“And why do you want to get married to me?” you ask, looking into his eyes.

There’s a pause, filled with the chatter of the crowd.

“You look like you’re afraid of finding someone,” he speaks finally, ignoring your question. “Or is it the other way around?”

You roll your eyes, ready to walk off when he grabs your wrist to pull you closer to his chest. It draws some looks from nearby people, your eyes darting from face to face in fear. You take a deep breath and look at Yuta again, almond eyes distracting. 

“People will think we’re lovers,” you whisper, almost a hiss.

“What’s wrong with that?”

You breathe out in disbelief. “You’re really something.”

“What? Why did you always come to meet me then? Behind the keyaki tree?”

“It wasn’t for you,” you lie quickly. “I had nothing better to do.”

Pining after a fox? You could never have feelings for him. Even so, your answer comes off childish and silly, and somehow he’s the only one to be able to draw that side of you—the you that is messy and unprepared.

Yuta smiles in return. “You think people can’t fall in love with us the same way they fall in love with most everything.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

“How conservative of you,” he leaves with an airy remark, but not before urging you to follow him.

The sizzling sound of food being fried and the knocking, clicking sound of children playing games, all these forgotten sounds grow louder and for a second, if only you let yourself, you could close your eyes and it would be just like your first date. 

No. It’s different. You look up, eyes trailing over Yuta’s back, his golden hair, how his figure moves with ease and confidence.

It is different.

You raise an eyebrow at the box of takoyaki Yuta shoves towards you, an expecting look across his face.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, an uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice.

You hum in response, taking the box from him and saving yourself the trouble of asking whether he paid for it or simply charmed his way through. 

“Eh, no thank you?” he complains. “How polite.”

You scrunch your nose to accompany an exaggerated smile and he laughs, the two of wandering over the asphalt streets. Your hands are close enough to brush—and if a twenty-something year-old woman can feel jittery because of it, hands truly are meant to share warmth. The smell of candy and caramel fills the air, making you smile. You’ve saved enough for the taste of home, you think. 

The taste of home. 

Inevitably, the thought of kissing your companion crosses your mind and you stop in your tracks. Whatever. It must be natural when someone as attractive is beside you. Those aren’t feelings. You curse yourself for feeling like a teenager again.

The festival grounds aren’t as shabby as you expect them to be. The city,—if you could call this one—stops here and the earth spreads out to the forest behind. The crowd also thins, and you take a fresh breath. They’re selling old books in the corner, but no one seems to be there.

“The raccoon dogs,” Yuta whispers in your ear, with an arcane smile. “Want to visit those rascals?”

You roll your eyes. He knows you’ve heard one too many folktales for a lifetime, seen one too many. It’s time to go home, especially now that the thought of thanking him crosses your mind. You’re about to turn when your shoulder crashes into someone else’s. A surprised, syrupy smile greets you, which you cannot return for the first few moments. Yui’s smile wavers and you flash her a quick smile. A friend. Her arm is looped through her lover’s, the one she never shuts up about and suddenly the urge to pour water over her head returns.

Yuta glances from you to her before pressing his lips together, as if suppressing laughter. You’re almost offended when Yui laughs flippantly.

“You’re on a date too? I knew you couldn’t stand spending the festival alone,” she says, tugging her lover closer. 

People have always told you who you are and what you do. As if they know better.

You smile awkwardly. “It’s… actually not—”

“Oh, don’t be shy.” She gently pats your shoulder before leaning in. “He’s a real catch. As expected from you. You can never leave the boys alone.”

You know what she really means. You’ve heard the same words in high school when she was shoving you into a wall behind the school. The sickening smile is still on her face.

You gulp, feeling sixteen again. The lack of people around somehow makes it more awkward and you’re about to excuse yourself when suddenly, Yuta bumps into Yui and his warm drink spills over her left shoulder. Your eyes widen, more in confusion. When did he leave? You don’t doubt his ability to sneak past people, but surely you couldn’t have been so enraptured in your own feelings that you barely noticed.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuta says, voice honeyed with surprise.

Yui looks like she’s about to explode when she looks at him, her expression dropping to a calmer one almost immediately.

It’s an easy look to recognize. They always have it when they first meet Yuta, whether it’s the smile that’s too dazzling or the pretty round eyes. 

How persuasive, those eyes.

“Ah… I must have not seen you,” she says faintly, and Yuta’s smile widens.

Before he can stir up more trouble, you slip your arm into his and pull him away, not caring for another polite apology to an old, almost nameless face.

“I was having fun,” Yuta complains, voice still smug and calm.

You glare at him and it only seems to add fuel to the fire, to whatever cold fire dances at his fingertips. 

“You’re happy, right? Don’t look at me like that. You should reward me.”

You don’t respond, looking away and hoping to get at least a word in about how troublesome he is every single time you visit. Yuta has other plans, however. Leaning his head to look you in the eye, he maintains a distance which looks perfectly decent but feels less than so.

“How about a kiss? I deserve one, don’t I?” He moves his head closer to yours, making you shy away.

You grab him by the belt and pretend to not catch a glimpse of the pleased look on his face as you drag him into a secluded part by the forest.

It’s quieter here, so much that you can almost hear your own heart drumming in your chest, and the faint light of the distant festival grounds doesn’t help much at all. It’s dark as dusk, and you can only make out Yuta’s jawline and a faint smirk over his lips. You think that if a fox ever wanted to eat your liver, this would be the perfect spot.

“You did something,” you finally utter the words. “You did something to me.”

“Why do you think I did something? Do you mean love?” he responds with a cheeky smile. “This means you’ve been thinking about me? How cute—”

“Yuta, stop it,” you warn. 

“Or what? You should stop me yourself.”

You grab the lapels of his jacket, the cloth bunching as your knuckles turn white. The anger you feel isn’t the first of its kind—it’s just a little funny how it’s always Yuta every time, making you remember the burning feeling time and time again. You find yourself unable to respond. 

“Oh, don’t hold back,” he provokes, leaning in.

You push at his chest in exasperation, but he grabs your wrists before you can retract your hands.

“Scared?” he whispers.

You pull apart anyway, a scowl over your lips. “You’re as annoying as ever. Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Ooh! Sharp claws. You’d be lovely as my fox-bride.” he teases. 

Your face flares with heat. “I’m not your… I’m not a fox.”

“I didn’t say a fox, I said—”

“I know what you said,” you snap, massaging your wrist so you don’t have to look at him.

Yuta falls quiet for a moment, voice lower when he speaks again.

“Is it so nasty to be called a fox? There are worse things, you know.”

You scoff, growing increasingly annoyed. “Of course you’d say that. I hate it. I hate this town. I hate foxes and I hate you.”

Yuta places a hand over his chest, gasping with no emotion. Your eyes linger over his long, painted nails a little longer before you meet his eyes. A part of you regrets saying the words but you couldn’t help it. The shroud choking your hometown makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs every time you’re here. You hate this place.

But you don’t hate him, after all. 

You try to clear yourself of the thought. A gentle gust of wind brings you back to the present, Yuta still glancing at you with no giveaway to what he’s feeling.

“You wouldn’t make a terrible fox though,” he says, eyes sharp. “Don’t they know you’re a vixen already? How many livers will you eat?”

You suck in a breath, tears stinging at your eyes. However, it’s not like you to get so easily affected by him. No. No, somehow that doesn’t make sense either. Those words do hurt from Yuta and you’re not sure if it’s just because he's the only one you didn’t expect them from.

“You…”

“What? Aren’t you going to lash at me again? You’re so predictable.”

His voice is calm despite your obvious annoyance and you feel flames lick at your heart. Your hand moves before you can think, about to meet his cheek when he grabs your wrist. You struggle, trying to pull free but to no avail and you use the other hand to hit him in the chest. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t bother him and that same feline smile curves up his lips.

You feel something you haven’t before, a warm growl at the pit of your stomach.

You push with all your strength, catching Yuta off guard and he stumbles backward but not before pulling you into him. Consequently, either of you lose footing and land on the grass with a sudden thud, Yuta’s side pressed against yours. His hands still clutch your wrist, and he shifts to hover over you.

“We used to wrestle like this as a litter,” he says, erupting into full laughter. “Ah, memories. I don’t even know if they’re alive or dead now.”

Yuta is much stronger than he looks, and he’s taken your tantrum as a source of amusement much to your infuriation. He has your hands pinned back, eyes unaffected as he scans over your face. You try to shift but there’s just too much weight on you. You breathe slowly, chest rising and falling in time with his. His earrings sway gently in the wind, dangling a few inches above you—he’s pretty, so pretty. Admitting defeat has never been your forte but now that your senses are gathering again, you feel a flush of embarrassment for losing your temper. 

Or perhaps, it is something else when you register the lack of distance between your noses.

“Playtime’s over,” Yuta coos. “You’re kinda cute when you’re losing.”

He tilts his head, an adoring smile over his lips. For a moment, they’re all you see.

Can a fox comfort you? Can a fox make you feel loved on the darkest of nights? Your mind races with questions your heart does not want to answer. 

Yuta leans in to close the distance and despite every nerve in your body, you turn your head away. You can hear him gulp, the following moments painfully quiet before he gets up. Your breath is soft and shallow, lying on the ground till you get enough courage to sit up. 

You almost gasp. His tails are clearer under the dim moonlight, all nine of them golden and luxurious. The light hitting his face isn’t any less flattering and once again you are reminded of how handsome he is, fairytale or not. 

Yuta looks uncomfortable, and that’s a first for you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know why.

He waves his hand dismissively, annoyed.

“Yuta,” you take a step forward.

“I see the way you look at me,” he says quietly, “Is it not want?”

You fall silent, biting your lip so you don’t retort violently. He doesn’t look particularly malicious when he says that but you do not want to give him the satisfaction of an answer yet.

He quietens for a moment before a look of curiosity flashes across his features.

“What is it then?” he asks. “Is it a secret? Foxes love secrets. Tell me.”

Despite every bone in your body burning up, you find it in yourself to laugh.

“I don’t think I could keep a secret from you if I tried,” you finally say, before bursting into soft laughter again.

Yuta looks at you puzzled, lips parted while he stands frozen as if he were a painting. A daunting, reckless, heavenly painting.

“It’s not want,” you answer quietly. “It’s more than that. Even if I hated it. I like you.”

Yuta’s ears perk up at your confession. “So- so you admit, then? You are interested?”

“I could blame you for this, you know?” You shrug, hugging yourself once the night starts to feel cold again. Yuta begins to take off his jacket when you stop him, gently pressing your palm against his chest. 

“You’re a fox, after all,” you whisper. “Like me. What they think of me.”

Yuta purses his lips. “Does it really hurt you? No, wait. Did they- did they—”

“Now, you tell me,” you cut him off. “Why do you insist on getting married—to me?”

There’s a pause. The crickets chirp a merry tune despite the leisurely darkness of the night.

“You’re not terrible,” he says, nonchalantly.

You glare at him and he raises his hands in defeat. He looks wearier the more you look at him.

“I want to grow old,” he mumbles after a long pause. “Properly.”

You hold your breath.

“And you want to do it with me?”

Another flower blooms in your chest, as if he hasn’t planted a garden in there already. The lights from the festival flicker down, the lanterns burning brighter in the distance. He glances at them for a moment, your eyes still fixated on him. 

The tails glow even brighter in the dark, as if gold in broad daylight. You’ve always been curious about him and his kind, all the stories; but he says he’s too old to remember if you ask.

You reach out to touch one of the tails, wondering if the fur is as warm as it looks. They’re pale and captivating, but they look so soft—they shouldn’t belong to an animal so vicious. Is he, though? Is he all that you think he is or have all these years failed you? If anything, he’s quite probably not as much a fox as you are, you think bitterly.

The fur is warm, but the realization is short-lived.

A short growl leaves the corner of his mouth. Yuta glares at you like he was stolen from and yet, you do not move your hand. Some part of you wants to aggravate him further.

“I’m not a pet,” he snaps. “Stop that.”

“You should stop me yourself,” you mimic his voice.

Yuta’s shoulders relax, and he looks down but you can still see the trembling smile on his face. It’s the way he looks at you, you think to yourself, maybe that's the reason after all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, feeling warmer than the autumn night should allow.

“Like what?” he asks, still smiling.

You look away. 

“You’re not too fox-like, you know?” you mumble. “You’re just annoying. And flirty. And annoying.”

Yuta chuckles, before pressing his palm to the top of your head. 

“And you’re lovely.”

You give in to the gesture of affection, leaning your head to press against his shoulder.

“Why do you even do all this? What do you get out of it?” you say, voice muffled. He hears you clearly, however.

“Because I love you,” he responds, as if coming to terms with it himself. “More than you think.”

There is no joke, no flirtation to his tone, no decoration upon his words. It’s plain, and laid bare. And sometimes, simplicity is scariest. 

You pull back, lips pulled into a frown. The air is cold once more; the longing for warmth flowing into you. The silence is worse.

“You don't believe foxes can fall in love,” he states softly upon a wavering smile. “I knew that. Of course.”

A part of him believes it too.

“I…” you begin, and for the first time, you are afraid of promises in the name of love. You are the one making them now.

“I’ll believe you,” you whisper, “I’ll believe you so please… please take care of me.”

You place your palm against his cheek, his skin bewitchingly warm. 

“Only if you take care of me,” he whispers back, leaning in.

This time, you do not move.

The lovers’ kiss you’d been searching for—lovers’ warmth, lovers’ comfort—all of it comes crashing down once Yuta tightens his arm around your waist, the other hand resting gently at the base of your neck. He kisses with the right amount of pressure, the vague taste of sweet berries in his mouth.

You used to fear his touch, like he would eat you whole; even if they have been gentle, always. This time, you might as well let him. He presses his lips from your cheek to jaw to neck, lingering at each spot enough to make you clutch at his shirt tighter, taking in short gasps of breath. You kiss for a little longer, like time means nothing.

“We should go back,” you whisper, pulling apart.

Yuta kisses you again, the distance unacceptable. 

“Yuta—”

He kisses you once more, your calls falling on deaf ears.

Finally, after another long kiss, he pulls apart enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“It must have been hard for you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you scoff.

“Foxes are faithful lovers, you know?” he insists.

You laugh. “What do you mean?”

“It means I’ll follow you everywhere.”

He stands up straight, his thumb stroking your cheek as he bites back a smile.

“I don’t think we should get back tonight,” he suggests all of a sudden. “We could book a hotel. That’s the place you use these days, right? I’m sure your grandmother will understand your absence—”

You groan, resting your forehead against his shoulder and he presents a delighted laugh in return. It is warm by his side; he is warm. You find it easy to forget the failures in love, the loneliness of a lover that isn’t meant to be yours. Folktales are just long tales, after all. You smile to yourself. 

You should’ve known—it was the fox all along. 

[jetsam-kisa]

Michiko vs Jetsam

Whew! This is done! I got carried away so I am very sorry for the length :’D

Michiko’s mod and I had some fun talking about our characters and especially the gear Michi is developing!

Unfortunately they were very busy this week, but I was more than happy to write the fight results :D 

CW: emetophobia // there is a brief scene describing vomit semi-graphically

The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium as Jetsam Kisa and Michiko Watanabe entered the battle arena. Both of the students walked to their side of the arena with a sense of purpose, even if they were nervous wrecks on the inside. Once they took their proper starting positions, the two contestants smiled weakly at each other as the announcer called out their names and the people in the crowd cheered for the next fight. 

‘I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out,’ Jetsam thought as he gnawed on his lips in anticipation, ‘That or throw up. Oh god I hope I don’t throw up in the middle of the match. Everyone here is watching. God, my parents are watching,’ Thick, heavy plums of smoke rolled out of his mouth the more frantic his thoughts became, until they nearly completely cloaked his figure, ‘I think I saw Best Jeanist in the stands too! He’s not going to want to associate with the kid who threw up during his first match. What am I doing here? What am I even going to do-?” 

Jetsam was snapped out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts by movement in his periphery; Michiko gently waved her hands at him and gave him a broader smile, despite clearly being nervous herself (if the crease in her brow was any clue to her emotional state).

“Let’s both do our best during this fight, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out from her side of the arena, before her gaze hardened with a resolve she often reserved for studying the most complex of quirks, “Although, I hope you know that I will not be taking it easy on you. I need to see how far I can go, and to learn about the extent of my current abilities.”

Seeing Michiko’s determination and hearing her will to succeed was like a salve to Jetsam’s shot nerves. He took a deep breath, then released the pent up smog. The smoke surrounding his body partially dissipated too. It was almost a shame how well Michiko’s words calmed him down; he would be better off easily producing the pollutants that came with high stress. Jetsam briefly wondered if her kindness was double-edged in a way; was it a strategic way to prevent him from building up his quirk before the match? He shook the thought out of his head before yelling back to her:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Michi!”

He could only hope that his grin masked the nerves that were still rolling in his stomach. He knew Michiko; knew her quirk. It could only be activated by physical contact, so as long as he kept his distance he should be okay. 

‘Although,’ Jetsam thought as he gazed at the chain-like device at Michiko’s hip, ‘that capture chain she’s been developing could be difficult to beat. I’ve never seen what it actually does before.’

All too quickly, the announcer began their countdown: “3...2...1...BEGIN!”

---------

As soon as the bell rang, Michiko shot forward, arm extended, with a single-minded determination to do one thing and one thing only: get to Jetsam before he could gain control of the battlefield with his quirk. If she could grab a hold onto him before his smogs and tars and other (frankly, gross) expellents became too overwhelming, then she could nullify his quirk with her own, and use her capture device to prevent him from continuing the fight.

Jetsam must have realized her plans, and had just enough time to dodge out of her range, smog spewing out of his mouth now that his adrenaline was no doubt pumping again. Not to be deterred, Michiko quickly shifted her balance and dove after him again, careful not to let him hide behind the pillars of smoke he was creating. 

‘He’s not going to make this easy for me, but I have been preparing for this occasion for too long to let this game of tag keep me from winning!’ She thought to herself, resolve growing with every inch closer she got to Jetsam, ‘He can’t avoid me forever, and I have a secret weapon I’ve been dying to beta test!’

After a few more moments of chasing after Jetsam, Michiko took a gamble and let him escape to the sanctuary of smog he created across the arena. She knew she had to be quick, but some risks had to be taken to assure victory! She knew that she had the power within her to win.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun her prototype, after all!

--------

‘Phew, I think I finally managed to shake her,’ Jetsam sighed with relief, dark smog still escaping his mouth and obscuring his figure to the crowd (and hopefully Michiko as well). ‘Now I have a moment to breathe. Hah, figuratively, at least.’

He made sure to keep his eye on the clear silhouette of Michiko he could make out through his smog, never before more grateful for his mom’s sight-related quirk partially making its way to him. She seemed to be standing still, perhaps strategizing her own plan to catch him and throw him out of the arena? He hoped the smoke wasn’t making her feel too sick. He had to be quick.  

‘I can probably end the battle if I cover her in tar and stop her movement. It might be unpleasant but it’d be safer than trying to beat her in hand-to-hand or some other physical contest. I haven’t been training with Tsumi for too long, after all. Yeah okay, that’s the plan!’

Just as he was about to produce the sticky tars necessary to carry out his plan, a thin silhouette darted out from Michi’s figure, slithering across the arena at a speed too quick for Jetsam to react to.

As a cold, thin figure coiled itself tightly around him, the only thought sparking across Jetsam’s brain was:

“Michiko brought a snake?”

-----

‘Bingo!’ Michiko exclaimed to herself as Jetsam’s no-doubt unconscious shout revealed not only his location, but the fact that her capture device had worked perfectly as intended.

While it still had quite a few bugs to sort out, one of the most recently added features was a heat-seeking tracker that would allow the machine to chase after targets even under adverse visible conditions. 

She cocked her head towards the direction of Jetsam’s quick yell of distress; she couldn’t get complacent. The capture device was only half the battle! She had to guarantee that Jetsam couldn’t continue the fight in order to assure her victory! 

She couldn’t just blindly run through the smokescreen either; who knows what kinds of traps he could have placed while she set up her capture device. No. She had to be methodical, and safely make her way to Jetsam’s location while he was encumbered. 

The smog was thick, but now she had her goal within sight: grapple Jetsam and nullify his quirk, thus ending the match.

-----

Okay, so it wasn’t a snake, but it was still bad news! Jetsam’s arms were completely pinned by the robotic device wrapped around his torso. So this was the work of the capture device that Michiko had worked so hard on? Jetsam had to admit that it was effective. He couldn’t fight with his limbs restrained like this, and that shout he gave out completely alerted Michiko to his location.

‘So this is it. The fight’s over, and I spent the whole time running away and cowering in the corner. Everyone is watching. Everyone saw. Everyone will know I’m just a big failure who doesn’t deserve to be here. Oh god what if Sato-sensei kicks me out of the hero course? What if they kick me out of the school?? What if everyone laughs and ignores me and hates me OH GOD-’ 

As the panicked thoughts swirled in Jetsam’s mind a pit formed in his stomach. A pit that rapidly expanded into a big, black ball of anxiety and nerves. He could almost picture it in his mind’s eye: an ugly, bloated orb dripping with heat and stress and bile. The more he envisioned it the more it grew until he could almost feel it spilling out of his mouth like a slick oil spill across his lips and---oh wait.

It wasn’t in his mind’s eye.

Jetsam groaned to himself as gushing rivets of slippery, rubbery oil spewed from his mouth all down the front of his body. 

“Well this is perfect!” Jetsam exclaimed to himself, although it was muffled by the sheer volume of oil that expelled out of him as he spoke. He really did throw up. God, could this fight be any more of a disaster?

First he gets captured by Michi’s device, then he literally vomits gross oil from the stress. Fantastic. He shifted uncomfortably, as the oils soaked into his jersey under the capture device and--wait a moment. Oil. Disgusting, smelly, beautifully SLIPPERY oil! That was slicking up his torso and arms even now!

Jetsam pulled his arms upwards experimentally and YES! They were sliding out, he wasn’t restrained anymore! Maybe he could hide again and strategize-

The victorious thought was cut off by a hand shooting out from the pillars of smog, reaching for his newly freed arms.

-----

“I finally found you, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out, jumping from out of the smokescreen with a triumphant smile. 

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Jetsam freed from his restraints, but she simply chalked it up to a prototyping failure; she could ask him about the specifics of how he escaped once the match was over, anyways.

This time Jetsam couldn’t dodge her oncoming attack, and Michiko grappled him to the ground, pinning his arms above his head. Now was her chance to nullify his quirk! She had been practicing in hand-to-hand combat, she could still push herself to her limits and come out on top!

Michiko began to focus her energy on her quirk, as Jetsam struggled underneath her. As soon as her quirk began its nullification, she saw the startled look in his dark eyes, and winced slightly in sympathy. She had been told that her quirk was a bit unpleasant to the target; with the process feeling not unlike having your blood drawn through your whole body.

As her quirk took effect, the copious amount of smoke around them began to disappear, once again fully revealing them to the crowd of spectators around the stadium. As her own vision began to clear she was startled to find them lying at the edge of the arena; if they had tussled a bit further out they would have been out of bounds.

Jetsam followed her gaze to the boundary line, and his jaw tightened as his face flushed a dull purple. Was it anger at his predicament? 

“I’m very sorry about this, Miss Michi,” he gurgled apologetically, as the last of his quirk bubbled from his mouth into a viscous oil that was spat out onto Michiko’s face.

With a shout of surprise, Michiko’s grip loosened enough for the slick oils still coating Jetsam’s arms to allow him to escape her grasp. Vision impared by the pollution covering her forehead and dripping into her eyes and nose, Michiko was unable to dodge the hefty push against her chest as Jetsam scrambled away from her touch, getting onto his feet. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for his quirk to return in full force.

“Again, words cannot express how sorry I am for doing that.” Jetsam called out to her, although his speech was hard to make out with the thick pollutants leaking from his mouth.

Michiko shot up from the floor, furiously wiping at her face to clear it of the oil. Once her vision returned, she turned to face Jetsam. The two ran at each other, trading blows and each trying to grapple the other into submission. The build-up of tar and oils worked as a double edged sword; Jetsam easily slipped from Michi’s grasp, but she also used that to her advantage to slide out of the way of his attacks. 

Then, there it was: that single, gleaming moment where Michiko could see the exhaustion, see Jetsam’s attention waning as the fight dragged on for just a bit too long. Right there! He was right by the boundary line, and had miscalculated a move that left him off-balance and vulnerable.

‘Sorry Jetsam,’ Michiko thought as she built momentum for her final blow, ‘but I am grateful for this amazing fight!’

Just as her victorious punch was about to make contact with Jetsam’s awaiting back, she felt herself freeze, involuntarily. Her arm was stuck in position, unable to move. She tried shifting her feet, but to no avail. Her whole body was frozen in place, like some sort of statue!

After a brief moment of panic, Michiko quickly realized what was happening. The tar. The tar Jetsam had been producing. He had mixed it with all the other pollutants as they fought, and as she was coated throughout the battle, the tar was turning thicker and thicker, until it encased her whole body into a stiff, immovable statue. 

She struggled, trying to thrash her way out of the viscous black coffin, but to no avail. She could no longer continue fighting. She had lost. 

The crowd burst into cheers and jeers as they realized that the match had been settled, the announcer calling out “AND THE WINNER IS, JETSAM KISA!”

As soon as the decision was announced, Michiko felt the tar slide off her body, like showering off a thick coating of muck, until only black stains remained on her body and clothing.

Jetsam sheepishly looked over at her, hand anxiously scratching at the back of his neck.

“So… that was really, really gross. I’m so sorry. But you were incredible! You almost had me so many times!!” Jetsam babbled out, getting more and more flustered as he continued. “I understand if you’re upset, but we promised we wouldn’t hold back and-”

“That was a great match! I had such a good time, and you really tested out my limits!” Michiko interrupted, smiled brightly at him as she held out her hand for him to shake. “But I’m warning you, next time I’ll be the one to come out on top!”

Jetsam smiled softly as he took her hand and reciprocated the shake.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[harbouredsoulss]

Strong

Author’s note: I had no intentions of posting this yet. I was going to focus on other characters, especially since my last post was an EZ one, and then post this at another time. But after last nights episode I knew I had to share this one 😅

This is Part One, there will be a Part Two coming soon!

You can also read my other fics here on my MASTERLIST.

I hope you enjoy this. I know it’s nothing like my previous fic, but idk I kind of like it 🤷🏼‍♀️💖

My Tag list is still open so please hit me up if you would like to be added! 

EZ Reyes X [OC] Mara 

Warnings: Violence! Death. Fluff. Sadness. 

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Sometimes being close can chase away all bad things.  

____________________________________

His arm was wrapped around her waist pulling her body flush against his, lips pressed urgently against hers. They were so caught up within their yearning for one another that it took a moment for the sounds of the gunshot to register. It’s sound resounding around them.

EZ jerked away from Mara quickly, and pushed her body to the ground, eyes roaming the area, seeking out the shooter. The area was dried grassland, littered with trees and shrubs here and there. Thankfully they had some sheltering their position, though, it wasn’t much. The other people in the area scattered, fear and adrenaline encouraging their movements away.

EZ couldn’t be sure on where the shooter was. He did his best to cover Mara’s body with his own as he attempted to locate the shooter, albeit vision slightly obscured by the vegetation surrounding them. He made for his own weapon, checking to make sure his ammo was all accounted for, and flicked the safety off. 

Terror was a new feeling for Mara. It was strange for her to have this overwhelming feeling of dread when out with EZ. It hit her like a freight train, which was completely unexpected. She knew it wasn’t his fault, he would want nothing but safety for her and given most of their time spent together was filled with just that and pure bliss, this new feeling was an adjustment. 

“Stay here,” he ordered roughly, pushing her body closer to the shrub that concealed them, “don’t move.”

She began to protest as he crouched away from her, gun cocked, and at the ready, but he silenced her with a look. It was a fierce glance over his shoulder that froze every fibre of her being. She grasped the seriousness of the situation; however, fear is what fuelled her protests. Fear for EZ. Fear for what could become of him. She knew he was strong, and most importantly, smart, nevertheless, being smart was not going to save either one of them from being shot dead if they came in contact with the shooter. 

Time felt like it dragged on as she sat there cowering behind the greenery. EZ had left her side what felt like hours ago when it in fact, was mere minutes.

A spark of confidence rippled through her, giving her just enough nerve to look around, to find EZ and with a few hesitant steps away from where EZ ordered her to stay put, It doesn’t take too long for her to catch sight of her lover and see that he has already encountered the man who was behind the gunshots.

They stood within a few steps from one another. The gunman’s weapon locked on EZ, aiming directly at his face. The shooter was tall, taller than EZ and was hooded, wearing a white ski mask on their face. Their eyes were glowing a bright red. The sight causing a chill to course throughout Mara’s body.  

“Any last words, hermano?” the gunman asked. 

Darkness seemed to circle around EZ as he stood there staring down the barrel of the gun. Mara began sobbing as the gunman took another step towards EZ, close enough now that the weapon pressed against his forehead. She got up as quickly as her body would allow, taking as many shaky steps as she could manoeuvre towards the scene before her.  

“Don’t shoot him, shoot me,” she begged, hands pressing together, almost as if she were praying.  

The gunman didn’t seem to hear her cries or he chose to ignore them as his finger pulled the trigger releasing a bullet that went straight through EZ’s skull. Mara was beside herself, as she watched the man, she loved fall to the ground. Her screams filling the entire parkland, as did her sobs. The world around her begun to blur as her grief prevailed, the sky once bright and blue now turning a sinister grey. She had made her way towards his lifeless body, arms wrapping themselves around him, pulling him close towards her chest. Her hands begun caressing his cheeks, her voice cracking as she told his lifeless form that everything was going to be okay. 

She looked, tears clouding her vision, and stared at the monster before her. The monster that took her boyfriend’s life. He was now nothing more than a silhouette before her, which caused confusion to wash over her. It didn’t make any sense. She tried blinking multiple times in an attempt to clear her vision, but to no avail he was still nothing but a silhouette. A body of darkness. No physical features possible to make out. 

“Who are you,” she screamed, rocking EZ’s body back and forth, eyes squeezed shut “what are you!”

It was in a sudden blink of an eye that she was pulled from her grief. Rough hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her body, similar to how she shook EZ’s lifeless form, back and forth. She opened her eyes wide, voice echoing around her as she continued to scream. Bright light filled her vision, which caused her eyes to squint so she could take in her surroundings. She found EZ then, towering over her. It was his hands that gripped her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length, concern etched on his face.  

“Hey,” he whispered, voice soft in an attempt to soothe her, “shhh I’m here.”

A sob escaped her then as he pulled her closer to him, engulfing her in an embrace. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, hands rubbing her back in an up and down, soothing motion. 

Her hands explored his body, in an attempt to anchor herself to the real world and to keep the nightmare at bay. His skin was soft and warm, exactly how she expected him to be. Unlike the cold lifeless form in her nightmare.  

“I’m here,” he repeated, pulling himself away from her, worried gaze taking her in. 

Mara hadn’t been aware she was still crying until EZ wiped the tears from underneath her eyes. She looked up to him, lip trembling as she took in his expression. It was the same concern he expressed in her dream, which automatically transported her straight back to that place. The domino effect then came into play as each image began to unlock another, causing her to sobs to harden.  

“It was so real,” she wept, this time using her hands to grip his biceps, squeezing hard, “you were- he was- I thought you- I-”

“It’s okay,” he said cutting her off and used both hands to grip her cheeks, turning her face up towards his, “you don’t have to explain.”

He leaned closer and pressed his forehead against hers, lips mere inches apart. She could feel the hesitancy on his part. He wanted to kiss her to take her mind off the pain but he didn’t want to take advantage of her distress. EZ didn’t know that this is what she wanted. Mara wanted the distraction; she welcomed it. She wanted to feel him in every way physically possible; to know that this moment was real and what she saw was anything but. 

There was no begging on her part, instead she pushed herself closer towards him, closing the space between them, and pressed her lips against his. Their kiss was gentle at first with EZ not wanting to push her into any situation she was not ready for, given her current state. 

Mara couldn’t have cared less. She pushed herself on top of him, allowing EZ to fall backwards on the bed so she could straddle him. His hands left her face as he fell and gripped her hips to keep them both steady. She kissed him deeper then, allowing her tongue to slip against his own, tasting him. 

He pulled away briefly, breathing heavy.

“I’m here,” he whispered, fingers kneading the skin at her hips, teasing her softly, “we don’t need to do anything to prove that.”

She understood what he meant, and that he was right, she didn’t need to do this. But she wanted to, desperately. She wanted to feel every inch of him inside of her body. 

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