#if the ids are too long or cumbersome...

[fernfloppercus]

This is your sign to make an MLP au of your best friends as the main characters!

[jasmines-library]

SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST

All the things on the road so far:

Total count: 38

Last updated: 14 October 2024

⛤ MASTERLIST ⛤

⛤ Hey Jude

Summary: When a demon hunt doesn't go to plan, the Winchesters have to rush to save their little sister. Though to make matters worse, once back home in the safety of the bunker her wound gets infected. With their angel friend MIA, Sam and Dean must battle time to find a way to help their sister.

⛤ Just One Big Headache

Summary: A routine salt 'n' burn takes a nasty turn when the spirit directs its anger towards you, leaving you with a nasty concussion, but not to worry, the Winchesters are there to look after you.

⛤ Spellbound Sickness

Summary: A long and cumbersome witch hunt turns much worse when you begin to develop a high fever; a side effect of the curse she managed to spit out at you. Will the Winchesters find the cure in time?

⛤ Up and Down

Summary: After returning from being tortured by the devil himself, your brain can���t help conjure up its own images which refuse to leave you alone.

⛤ Let It Linger

Summary: after a rough hunt resurfaces some unwanted memories, you slip into your own mind. But Sam is there to help you through it.

⛤ Blood Bag

Summary: you are captured by a group of vamps whilst on a hunt. They take their time trying to kill you, draining you of your blood in an old warehouse. For the Winchesters, it’s a race against time to reach you before something fatal happens.

⛤ Safehouse

Summary: after sustaining an injury on a hunt, you and Dean are forced back to the safehouse, however the wound festers and becomes infected, leaving you very ill. With Cas MIA and without the proper equipment to treat the wound, you are left clinging onto life. (Unknowingly like Hey Jude because I’m stupid and forgot id already done it. It’s slightly different though)

⛤ The Basement

Summary: You are captured alongside your brother Sam by the BMOL. They want something you won't tell them, so they try to force it out of you.

⛤ Hidden on the inside

Summary: During a hunt, you take a nasty hit which at first seems fine, but it's what's hidden deep under the surface that creates a problem. (I get it, i suck and writing summaries.)

⛤ Oh, Baby.

Summary: on the way back from a hunt, an out of control car veers into yours sending it hurtling off of the path and into a tree, leaving you trapped. Too far from the hospital, the Winchesters are left with the task of getting your body from the car as they wait for Cas to arrive.

⛤ Sweet Creature

Summary: When Dean is a Demon, he does something unexpected to you. Since then, you have become withdrawn, refusing to sleep in fear of the images that plague your mind. When you eventually give in and suffer a nightmare, Cas is there to help.

⛤ Sounds Of Someday

Summary: the request pretty much says it all. When you and your brothers split up during an unusual hunt, you get caught and become part of a witch’s ritual, which ends with your life slipping away and your brothers struggling to reach you as you are ripped away from them.

⛤ Devil in Disguise

Summary: After escaping from the cage, Lucifer decides to pay Sam a visit, only he's not there. So he settles on the next best thing: you.

⛤ Black Smoke Rising

Summary: Seeking revenge on the Winchesters, a demon decides to go undercover by using your body as a vessel to sneak into the bunker. Whilst trapped within your own mind, you can only hope that Sam and Dean notice that something is amiss before it is too late.

⛤ Just A Little Complication

Summary: Whilst Dean is in hell, the reader is the only one who can calm Sam down when he gets overwhelmed.

⛤ Knock it off

Summary: whilst at dinner with her family, the reader begins to choke.

⛤ Groundhog Day

Summary: takes place during the episode ‘Mystery Spot’ but instead of Dean dying over and over again, Sam and Dean are forced to watch their sister die repeatedly .

⛤ Sleep Is For The Weak

Summary: With too much to do and not a lot of time to do it, you overwork yourself, missing out on sleep. When your brothers try to get involved, you dismiss them only for you to end up collapsing during a hunt.

⛤ The Curious Case Of Dean Winchester

Summary: Takes place during S5E7 where the reader loses years off of her life to save Dean from a demon deal, however when Sam tried to win her years back, it may already be a little bit too late.

⛤ Dead In The Water

Summary: takes place during S1E3 where the reader ends up in the water with Lucas.

⛤ Dilemma

Summary: When you and your brothers get caught of guard during a werewolf hunt, they are quick to try and blame each other. But little do they know that their bickering might cost you your life.

⛤ Teeth

Summary: Reader gets turned into a vampire

⛤ So close, Yet Too far

Summary: you just really need a hug.

⛤ Hexed

Summary: a hex bag finds its way to you…

⛤ Breathe

Summary: You have an asthma attack.

⛤ Currents Convulsive

Summary: you get electrocuted.

⛤ The Things They Carried

Summary: based on the episode; you get infected by a parasite and have to find a way to get it out.

⛤ Caught Off Guard

Summary: you get attacked by a werewolf and have a panic attack

⛤ Weak immune system

⛤ Motion Sickness

Summary; you get car sick

Double Trouble

summary: you see double

Wendigo

⛤ ‘Tis the Season

Summary: A fluffy one shot where the Winchesters celebrate Christmas.

⛤ A Winchester Surprise

Summary: After years of your birthday being forgotten or consumed by a hunt, your brothers make sure that this one is extra special.

⛤ Time For A Wedding

Summary: Sam and Dean attend the readers wedding.

⛤ Unconditional

Summary: 15 year old Winchester!sister discovers she is a lesbian, and whilst on a date with a girl she sees in a diner she gets harassed by a homophobic boy. When she returns, Sam and Dean comfort her.

⛤ Somebody Told Me

Summary: Sam and Dean give their nervous younger sister dating advice.

⛤ Sick Bug

Summary: When you wake up feeling sick, your big brothers are there to help make you feel better. (Hurt/comfort ish)

⛤ Noodle Soup

Summary: The reader takes care of their sick brothers

⛤ Changes (spn x dc)

Summary: You are sick of Sam and Deans bickering, so you venture to Gotham to hunt some vampires where you meet some very interesting vigilantes.

⛤ Family First

Summary: Sam and Dean show their appreciation for their older sister

⛤ Today I Saw The Whole World

Summary: You are Sam Winchester’s twin sister, cursed with the same blood running through your veins. When Sam begins experiencing his visions, you too discover a new skill. You can see into the veil.

⛤ Bringers Of The Apocalypse (spn x DC Crossove)

Summary: The day Lucifer was freed from the cage was the day your life completely fell apart. You were ripped harshly from the peaceful life you had created for yourself in Gotham when your duty as the horseman of war calls and you are faced with a difficult decision: stay with your family in Gotham and let the apocalypse play out, or give up the ring (and ultimately your life) to go with the Winchester brothers who are searching for you to send Lucifer back to hell and save the world… or perhaps you can find a compromise somewhere inbeteeen.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Dear @catwingsathena,

Thank you for sending in an application to be matched with one of our service dragons! Your needs and preferences suggest that a slightly older dragon would probably suit you best. A juvenile is easier to train for specific tasks, but a little less predictable and would also be more work for you. Right now we have two dragons in our training program that might be a good match:

Philly, a very steady, flightless dragon that weighs about 5 kilo's. She ended up in our shelter because her wings are no longer able to support her and we started training her when we noticed how clever and social she is. We are confident that she will be able to give all the assistance you need, including guarding the showers while you are in it. But while she is also very cuddly, she's not really playful. She's rather serious for a dragon and tends to ignore other animals.

Bagel, a rare crossbreed between what we guess must have been a common pocket dragon and a freshwater dragon. She adores water and is very curious and affectionate, also towards other pets. None of your requirements should give her any trouble, but we do think you might need to give her her own bracelet to hoard for herself, or she might try to keep yours.

If either or both of those sound like a good fit to you, we'd love for you to come to the shelter some day soon to meet them. It's a cliché, but the dragon really does pick the owner, and it's hard to tell what personality suits you best until you're face to shout with them!

~ The Domestic Dragon Trust

PS. We have enclosed your application form below.

Service Dragon Application Form

Size: I would prefer a dragon on the larger side of the pocket dragon size range—large enough to cuddle properly and be a pleasant weight on my lap (if I’m sitting up) or chest (if I’m lying down), but not so heavy that walking around with them in a cross-body messenger bag would be cumbersome or hard on my shoulders. Maybe roughly rabbit-sized?

Skills: the primary supports I would need from a service dragon are self-care reminders and light assistance, primarily with meals, meds, and showers. I struggle enough with showers that it might be useful for me to have a dragon who enjoys playing in water enough to want to get in the shower with me, but if that’s not possible, hanging out just outside the curtain and making reassuring sounds would be more than satisfactory. It would also be very helpful if my dragon could bring my migraine rescue meds when needed, encourage me to get up and stretch my legs if I’ve been at the computer too long, and/or pester me into eating and drinking water if I haven’t in a while. I don’t have nightmares terribly often (maybe twice a month on average, these days), but when I do I would greatly appreciate it if my dragon could wake me up. I’d also appreciate if they could grab my medical ID bracelet if I leave it on my bed or try to leave the house without it.

Personality: as I mentioned before, a cuddly dragon is a must. An ability to tolerate or even enjoyment of water would be helpful, for both shower purposes and because I live in an area with a lot of rain and like to go walking in it. Still, while playfulness is nice and an interest in finding things would be very helpful, I think I would do better with a fairly calm, laid-back dragon. My sleep schedule is very erratic (not because of when I go to bed or get up, just insomnia), so I would need a dragon who won’t be bothered by me being awake for hours in the middle of the night and getting up or turning on lights—the ability to nap when an opportunity presents itself might help, and I’d like it if they could sometimes hang out on my bed with me while I’m writing or resting (preferably without interfering with my typing too much).

Living Situation: I go back and forth between two houses approximately every other week. Both houses have at least one cat, and one of the houses also has a small dog (who is never allowed in my room, where I spend most of my indoor time). I spend long stretches of time walking around the block or going on the swingset at the park, and I love being outside in the rain. I also spend a lot of time sitting in my bed—it’s where I do most of my reading and writing, as well as resting. I have a part-time job to which I probably couldn’t bring my dragon for a variety of reasons, but my shifts are 4 hours, so I won’t be away too long.

[jzixuans]

"the good night skirt" // "by way of explanation"

raoul fernandes has such a way with conveying the best friends side of romantic love u guys remind me to share the good night skirt and by way of explanation when i get on my computer this is so important

[kunosoura]

getting into shape from a base of fuckall, from a long time flesh prison hater: doesnt rly matter what you do as long as its consistent ime. start with pathetically small amounts of exercise. the point is to make it (becoming aware of being embodied) an interesting and enjoyable experience. do whatever you have to in order to make it pleasant and regularly doable (vigorous stretching before and after, candle baths, whatever). id recommend going running (or just shuffling along at a slightly increased pace, or just going for walks) for 10 min a day, just to see how it feels. you dont need anything for that except shoes and clothes that arent too cumbersome. dont push yourself to get faster/better/endure longer until it feels good

This is all really good advice, my main problem I think is that I’m doing it for a stupid mandatory wellness class project so I’ve committed to doing a bit more than 10 minutes and ramping it up at regular 2 week intervals. I mean, on the other hand I wouldn’t be doing it at all if not for the project. Idk. Thank you for the advice ^_^

[onlinetrendingfeatures]

High School Hottie: Slay Your Back-to-School Style        

#BackToSchooloutfits #FirstDayofschoolOutfit #backtoschooloutfitshighschool # firstdayofschooloutfithighschool.

High school is a time of self-discovery and expression. What you wear can say a lot about who you are. If you want to make a statement and turn heads this school year, it’s all about finding that perfect balance between style and substance. This guide will help you navigate your wardrobe choices to ensure you look sharp, feel confident, and stand out from the crowd.

Effective Theme

Think of your wardrobe as a story. Choose a theme that reflects your personality and sets the tone for your look. Whether it’s urban chic, sporty elegance, or laid-back casual, having a cohesive theme helps you mix and match pieces effortlessly, making it easier to create standout outfits daily.

Color

Color is your silent statement. Bright hues can energize and lift your mood, while cool tones offer a more refined vibe. Experiment with bold colors or classic neutrals depending on your mood and style. Don’t shy away from adding patterns or contrasts to make your outfits pop.

Durability

You need clothes that can handle the hustle of school life. Look for high-quality fabrics that withstand the rigors of daily wear. Durable materials like denim, cotton blends, and performance fabrics ensure that your clothes remain in top shape, even after repeated washes.

Size and Dimensions

Fit is crucial. Clothes should be neither too tight nor too loose. Proper sizing ensures comfort and allows you to move freely. Pay attention to the cut and fit of each item. A well-fitting outfit makes a world of difference in how you feel and how you present yourself.

Mobility

School days are long and busy, so comfort is key. Opt for clothing that offers good mobility—stretchy jeans, breathable shirts, and flexible footwear. You want to be able to move freely between classes, activities, and social events without feeling restricted.

Expandability

Invest in pieces that offer versatility. A stylish jacket, a classic pair of jeans, or a versatile dress can be dressed up or down. Look for items that can be layered or accessorized to create different looks with the same base wardrobe.

Security Features

For added practicality, consider clothes and accessories with built-in security features. Pockets with zippers or hidden compartments can keep your essentials safe, from your phone to your school ID. Security features in your bags and backpacks are also crucial for keeping your belongings secure throughout the day.

Security Weight

Choose lightweight materials that are comfortable to wear all day. Heavy fabrics might look great but can be cumbersome during long school hours. Lightweight clothes are easier to carry, pack, and layer, making your daily outfit choices more manageable.

Modern Touch

Stay on trend with modern touches. Incorporate the latest styles in a way that suits your personal taste. This could mean adding trendy accessories, experimenting with new cuts, or incorporating popular patterns. Keeping a few contemporary pieces in your wardrobe ensures you remain stylish and up-to-date.

Design

Design matters. Look for clothes that offer a blend of style and functionality. Unique designs, whether through distinctive cuts, interesting textures, or stylish details, can make your outfits stand out while serving practical needs.

Packing Power

Consider how your clothing fits into your lifestyle. Items that are easy to pack and manage are ideal for students who are constantly on the move. Choose clothes that travel well and don’t require constant adjustments or maintenance.

Ample Space

Ensure your backpacks and bags offer ample space and organization. You need enough room for your books, laptop, and other essentials. A well-organized bag can make a big difference in your daily routine, helping you stay prepared and stress-free.

Made Of

Be mindful of the materials your clothes are made from. Opt for fabrics that are comfortable, durable, and easy to care for. Cotton, wool, and synthetic blends can provide the right balance of comfort and functionality, while also being budget-friendly.

Convenience

Look for clothes that are easy to care for. Items that are machine washable and require minimal ironing or special care save time and effort. Convenience in your wardrobe ensures you spend less time on upkeep and more time focusing on what matters.

Material

The choice of material affects both the look and feel of your clothes. High-quality materials enhance comfort and longevity. Whether it’s breathable cotton for hot days or cozy flannel for cooler weather, choosing the right material ensures you’re prepared for any situation.

Warranty

Some brands offer warranties or guarantees on their products. This can be a sign of their confidence in the durability of their clothing. It’s worth considering, as it adds an extra layer of protection for your investment and helps ensure you’re making a wise choice.

Special Features

Look for special features that add value to your wardrobe. This might include moisture-wicking fabrics, anti-wrinkle properties, or built-in UV protection. These features can enhance your comfort and convenience, making them worthwhile additions to your outfits.

Slaying your back-to-school style is about more than just looking good. It’s about finding the right balance between style, comfort, and practicality. With the tips and insights from this guide, you’re equipped to build a wardrobe that not only helps you stand out but also supports your daily needs. Embrace your unique style, stay confident, and make this school year your most fashionable yet.

[ghost-of-the-machine]

or.. ill be upset about something else. i feel angry

i make too many excuses for everyone in my life. you ask them to walk all over you if it makes them feel better. i let you

im allowed to be a little spiteful, im allowed to be bitter!!!

its just. id say? bpd gives me the most problems like. even the whole. brain not put together thing is less cumbersome than that shit. what a painful way of life, so extreme and tiring.. it rips me apart and then puts me back together so suddenly, im high off the buzz until its ripped away from me again. thats how everything feels, it makes me want to just... sleep. for a very very long time

like most if not all disorders, its not my fucking fault i have to live like this, its theirs. im glad i was born... because i wouldnt be where i am now and i dont want to think about that. but? you couldnt have spared me a little time? ive been so violently aware of myself and all my flaws since i was little, like. LITTLE little. between offhand comments that i overanalyzed religiously and based my sense of self on, to just. being ALONE. that was no place for a kid to grow up. dark and dingy and cold and there was bugs everywhere and. there wasnt always someone to make food for me, i got food poisoning so many times cuz you cant let a fucking 7 year old cook for himself with no supervision? 'cook' is a generous word, id literally just grab cold shit from the fridge and eat it. several times i drank alcohol on accident cuz there was just water bottles full of alcohol left around my house. and lord, was it dirty.. not to mention the blood. and the violence, and screaming.. and they wonder why im the way i am now? i feel... ruined. it makes me angry. couldnt you have saved me from all of that? couldnt you have made it better for me? i was just a child, what could i have done? i did the most, though. put myself in front of others, learned to protect and . it was really naive of me, obviously these grown men arent scared of a little girl. but i tried, because everyone seemed like they needed someone to take care of them. i mean.. thats why they didnt take care of me, right? they needed it more! surely 💀

i got taken away by cps when i was really little, its one of my earliest memories. it was like a dream, every memory is like a dream to me.. but i remember that apparently, the agent on our case was corrupt or something, said we didnt have food when we did, etc and got us taken away on purpose. i think thats true, shes mentioned a case in the newspaper about it, but. my mom didnt want to give me up again. it took till i was about 8-9 before she finally sent me to live with my grandma again. maybe i wasnt there for very long, but... i am permanently altered 🥳🥳 YIPPIEEEE!!!!!

honestly it sucks. my dad is in jail where he belongs, ive never missed him a single day in my life, but.. i remember after, the only times id see my mom was brief visits at like. a facility. and i thought it was fun because there was places for me to play. it makes me.. really sad thinking about it now. i was about 4-5 around this time. idk. im not really angry anymore, im just sad now. i mean ill always be angry, but that just means ill always be sad too

so much... disruption. moving all over and leaving my friends behind, struggling to make new ones cuz . oh no1!1 that boy is developing attachment issues, i wonder where this will lead!!!! i latch on like a parasite to anyone i fall in love with, because im scared to be disrupted again. im scared itll be taken from me because everyone LOVES taking things away from me. my stability, my happiness, my family. my everything, just ripped away over and over again. no wonder bro doesnt know who he is!!!!!!!! what a waste.

[lafeae]

or “I know, but you have to breath.” if this inspires more

Ignore the fact that I'm crazy with this stuff; why be pedestrian? I'll work on both prompts! I love them both! This one just sparked something a little mad. Enjoy!

--

Last Frontiersman

Sun glinted off the edge of the decompression tank. For the last two and a half years, Joey Wheeler had called it home. Or rather, hadn't called it anything. He hadn't been consciousness enough to call it anything, and as far as his mind was aware, he was nowhere near the vast reaches of hyperspace, floating in a place that heard no sound.

The gentle hiss of the lid popping up was what awoke him. That and the sun, shining, but not their sun. Not the burning orange flame he was used to. Something hotter and stronger, shimmering a deep blue that he would think was a planet, but somehow, as he looked at it through bleary, blinking eyes, it was disappointing. Exciting, but disappointing.

In the long lapse of hyperspace travel, he dreamt. Dreamt of the unimaginable things that he'd be encountering on this journey. The new planets they'd discover. Colourful flora and fauna, scattered all around and seemingly untouched, at least to the hand of man. Alien life was always a possibility, but that hadn't been the goal of their arduous journey.

Terraforming. That had been the goal. To find a habital place (and they had, many light-years away) and make it comfortable for man to colonize, to live. Joey wasn't a part of all that hoop-lah, it was above his pay grade, but he wasn't any less excited to go along for the ride for whatever job they had in mind for him. Someone had to do the forming of the terra. The hard labor. The farming and the building and whatever else he could necessitate.

But there wasn't a planet to look upon.

Only a giant, blue gas ball.

And his stomach pitted. He stumbled out of the decompression pod and expected his body to crumple on the floor from disuse. Instead, his toes barely scraped along the diamond steel floor while he peddled in the air, trying to find purchase. His limbs worked. His head moved, but his body had no control.

No gravity.

He quickly found himself hovering and lilting to the left as the ship slowly rotated around him. Anything not bolted to a surface hung in the air, and he tucked and rolled to avoid being struck, though several errant objects pelted him like pebbles from kids in a schoolyard. One of which was a small ball of icy water, not yet frozen, splashing against his bicep.

"Hello?" Joey called.

The sun was the only light source. It cast in slats through the solar shields covering the windows. With that, and fully returned vision, he took in the long hall full of identical decompression pods, each with an ID number above them. All sealed.

He swam up to one, wiping off the densely packed condensation droplets and crackles of sheet ice. Melting and thawing.

Wide eyes and a open-mouth expression, like shock or even fear, was frozen on a woman's face. All of her body was frozen, unmoving. The vitals read-out was blank. Turned off, and like the pod, covered in the same icy condensation.

His hands clapped over his mouth. Pod after pod was the same. He swam up to each and checked anyways, slamming on the glass, knocking loose ice crystals to float around his face. "You gotta be awake, c'mon. C'mon! I'm awake! All of you guys gotta be awake, too! C'mon!"

His palms hurt. The longer he moved around, the more cumbersome the gravity became. Not heavier, he told himself, he was still floating. But it hurt. His arms and legs burned from pumping through the air that steadily felt like it was turning to molasses around him. It hurt to think or to rove his eyes around, and as he reached the end of the hall, his ribs and sternum constricted tighter and tighter. Dead. They were all dead, every one of them, and him? What was happening to him...? Why was he awake and roaming around and...

He sucked in greedy breaths that never filled his lungs. His head hurt, and the edges of his vision became hazy. Well, if they were dead, then he was dead, too. His life support lasted long enough to let him die floating in the abyss of the hyperspace carrier. He didn't even feel himself letting go, he just let his body travel with the current of whatever rocked the ship. Tears clumped up in his eyelashes before bubbling above him. He wrapped his arms around his knees and set his chin atop them. Fetal position; a natural way to die, not that any living soul would find him. He couldn’t even take solace in that—they were another wasted carrier that had lost contact somewhere along their journey. The signal may have died months ago, along with the rest of the travellers.

The light changed.

Joey’s breathing stilled and the fringes of his vision gave way.

He looked at what may have been some object fluttering in front of him. That, or the wisps of his oxygen deprived mind had conjured up a friend. He blinked and narrowly raised his head in time to feel hands cupping his cheeks. A bright light blasted in one eye, the next.

“Where the hell did you come from?” The strange man said.

Joey tried to speak, but croaked instead. His head nodded towards where he thought that hall was.

“You’re wearing a life support suit. No ID tag. You came out same as me.”

“…out?”

The hands massaged Joey’s neck. “The pod didn’t collapse your trachea. Good. Breathe. Slow, steady breaths.”

“Hurts.”

“I know,” the man said, soft but stern, “but you have to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two,” he guided, soothing. Joey blinked several times, focusing on the man as much as he was the breathing.

The figure before him was part man, part machine. Or rather, he had an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, and the more Joey struggled to get out more than a haggered breath, the more distraught the man’s eyes became. Blue eyes. Bright but deep blue, like the sun somewhere outside the window.

He took the mask off his face and pressed it to Joey’s. The oxygen tasted thicker, somehow. There was the scent of spice and potato. A hint of the lab-grown meat smell that never left his brain after the first time he smelled it in the mess hall. He suckled the oxygen in until his lungs were less crushed and his body was less compressed. His limbs untangled. His focus on the man sharpened, and he made out sharp cheeks and pointed jaw. Gaunt sockets that beset the blue eyes, and auburn hair that floated around his face. The wrinkle on his brow eased, and his thin lips formed something like an eased expression, though less of a smile.

“Good. Easy. We have to share to get back to the Mainframe.”

“It’s a long distance. Do you think you can make it?”

Joey nodded. This was a plan. He wasn’t dying, not yet. “Got it. Share. Mainframe. Wherever that it.”

“I can try. I’m tired,” he admitted, though he was loathe to. He’d been asleep for so long, and had barely swam around, but he was exceedingly tired for no reason other than his body was existing in a state where it didn’t even need to use energy to walk. “I don’t know why, but I’m tired.”

“The hyperjump saps the energy from our cells. That and the constant state of decompression is…a nauseating mixture,” the man admitted, sneering. “You don’t seem to know what I’m referring to. This was the labor hold; understandable, I suppose. Of all the people to make it though…”the man shook his head. “Never mind. You don’t have a tag. What’s your name?”

“Wheeler. Joey Wheeler. ID uh…1-0-6-…”

“Unnecessary.”

“You?”

The man took back the oxygen mask and placed it over his mouth and nose. He wrapped his arm around Joey’s waist, wrapped one ankle around Joey’s, and found a solid wall to push off of to get a head start. Like a superhero. “Seto Kaiba. I’m one of the IT Engineers.”

Were Joey’s mind more focused, he would have known how important that was. Not a Captain, but not some peon, either. This guy knew the systems, and probably a whole lot more. But his mind was more focused on the way their bodies were wrapped up, and the feeling of Kaiba’s chest expanding and contracting against his, also expanding, also contracting. Alive. Somewhere in the universe. Just him and Kaiba.

[wisteriafield]

@furry-road​

Innate Talents: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1594709696 Gives you The Pawn (allows a small bit of movement for free), Savage Sortilege (spells can crit), and Pet Pal (unlock animal dialogue) for free. If you activate Pet Power gift bag that essentially gives you a free talent point on top

Bartering Tweaks: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1594709696 Allows you to share Bartering Levels and Persuasion levels for trading, and also outside of trading as well so each party member can spec into a specific civil ability and pass persuasion checks in case another party member gets roped into a conversation you weren’t ready for (do NOT enable the Bartering gift bag as that one is pretty bugged in comparison)

Automatic Item Leveling: Because having to replace special gear with common rarity shit as soon as you get a level up is pretty lame

No Equipping Requirements: Its tedious having to account for Strength/Finesse/Intelligence levels to round out your armor health while you progress

Very Fast Casting Mages: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1523655393 Cooldowns often leave mages without much to do after a certain point (if they optimize their AP using Elemental Affinity even with only 4AP)

Redress: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1971391828 One of the best mods for maintaining certain appearances without being too cumbersome. Only caveat is as you replace gear the colors of your armor will change occasionally, and will bug out stuff with Set effects like Tyrant’s Armor and the Four Relics of Rivellon. Goes great with Rendall’s NPC armor mod: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1971391828

Source Point Max Increase: There’s a variant for 6SP and 9SP depending on your taste, but 3SP cap is pretty lame

Mods that increase the effectiveness of the Memory stat, because leveling Memory is lame

Toggle Polymorph Appendages: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1507857286 because having to spend AP to enable them just for a bit kinda defeats the purpose of their utility

Odinblade’s overhauls are all good but not something I would have someone put on for a first time with the exception of his summoning overhaul

Reusable Skill Books

Initiative Based Turn Order for when you get sick of the round robin turns shoving some of your allies all the way in the back of the queue

Vanilla Plus: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2369431031 Something of a compromise between base game system and the Divinity Unleashed mod, attempts to balance hybrid parties and doesn’t go too hog wild with changing how various stats work

Animation Plus is one of those lowkey things you need for some more complicated mods

Like Weapon Expansion which has been really fun, still a WIP though

As far as class mods go my favorites are

Thorstmixx’s Duelist, simple but effective

My personal favorites are Feenex’s Duskblade with Zrexin’s Void Knight, after I made some personal tweaks to it anyway, its got some of the flashiest looking stuff

Hephaestios’s Berserker because throwing enemies is too much fun and its just WAR from FFXIV

Odinblade’s Umbra’s got real unique mechanics

The Musketeer Mod is really engaging, though I’ve not stuck with it very long, has a unique ammo counter

Thats all the comes to mind rn

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 9

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning:��Swearing, Angst

Words: 3,977

"Ms. McPhee, thank you for the tea and cookies," Y/N said, putting her mug on the small coffee table between them. "They were delicious. But keep the box of tea cakes I brought, all right?"

In the dark green overstuffed chair across from her, Ms. McPhee gave her a warm look. "They were no problem. It's nice to have company." She hesitated before speaking again. "Do you think you'll be able to help?"

Y/N reached to pet the cat lying next to her on the worn, gray sofa, searching for an answer. Getting the woman’s hopes up would be unkind. But with all the hours Y/N was working, and what she believed she was finding, she was stubborn enough to try. "I don't know what the outcome will be," she started. A soft smile crossed her face in an attempt to encourage the older woman. "But I'll do everything I can. How long did you and your husband live her?"

Ms. McPhee crossed her ankles as she rocked her chair. "Let me see."

While Ms. McPhee pondered, Y/N's eyes surveyed the apartment. It was tiny, and the living room had an open, cream color kitchenette on the end. A mini-fridge was under the short counter. There was an old oven, but the stovetop must not have functioned, because a hot plate sat on it. Half the cabinets were missing knobs, and the drawers no longer fit in their slots correctly. There wasn't room for a table; a folded TV dinner tray was leaned against the wall. Y/N exhaled sharply. This woman had so little - and here she was, having to fight to keep it.

"We moved here in 1942," Ms. McPhee continued, breaking Y/N's train of thought. "After Phil got hurt at Ace."

"Ace Chemicals? What happened?"

"Industrial accident. He had burns on over seventy percent of his body." Ms. McPhee took another sip of tea. "There was no way for him to keep working. And social security didn’t exist yet. Back then it was harder for women to get a job. I was a secretary for a little while, then an operator. But we still struggled, especially with our daughter on the way." Gesturing towards the ceiling, she continued. "This place was a godsend. Most landlords didn't accept housing vouchers. We were lucky."

Y/N wasn’t sure that was the word she would have used. Luck would have been not having an industrial accident in the first place. Or at least having had to struggle less when misfortune had knocked them down. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but admire Ms. McPhee’s resilience.

“You’ve been through a lot.” Gently, Y/N asked, "When did he pass away?"

"Four years ago. Heart attack." Ms. McPhee's lips pursed. "We went through a lot together. I know it's not much, but I don't want to leave. It was difficult but we built a life here."

That Y/N understood. Her parents had lived in the same house for almost fifty years, and had, as they had continuously reminded her, "held onto it during the depression, so don't take it for granted." And, before he'd completely lost himself, the home's familiar walls, carpets, and furniture had soothed her father. If some faceless corporation had tried to push them out, he would have raised hell.

Blinking the memory away, Y/N grabbed another chocolate chip cookie. "You mentioned earlier that people had come by to talk to you. Did they give you any sort of card?"

 "They were so neatly dressed, I thought they were Mormons." They both laughed at that, Y/N coughing softly on a crumb. "But when I opened the door, they just had questions about my apartment," Ms. McPhee said. “I asked for ID, but they just gave me a Renew Corp. card. Then the letters started coming."

"And how long ago was that?"

"About eight months."

Digging into her canvas bag, Y/N found a pen and paper. She took the cap off her pen with her mouth and started writing as she spoke. "Eight months..." When she got back to the office tomorrow, she'd have to check the dates the Wayne Foundation started filing with the court. She felt Ms. McPhee's eyes on her. "Don't worry," Y/N said. "I'm not writing your name down."

Ms. McPhee chuckled. "I'm not worried, dear. I'm too old for that.” She leaned towards Y/N, then, as if she was spilling a secret. “I think those men wanted to scare me. But they just made me mad. Use my name however you want."

Y/N couldn't stop the corner of her mouth from turning up. "I admire your spunk, Ms. McPhee. You're a tough old bird. That's a compliment."

"Well, then, I'll take it as one."

Y/N stretched her arms and leaned forward. "Do you have anymore of those letters, like the one you gave me when we first spoke?"

Nodding, Ms. McPhee stood and left the room. Rising from the couch, Y/N perused the photos on the opposite wall, hanging over the small TV set. She recognized Ms. McPhee, with whom she assumed was her husband. Pictures of Thanksgivings and Christmases with undersized turkeys and tiny trees. Seeing the memories this one family had created in this undersized apartment, knowing how many more people were in this exact same situation, made her more determined to find out what the hell was going on and who was behind it.

Ms. McPhee came back, holding two shoe boxes. "Here. You can have them both."

Taking them from her, Y/N lifted the lid of one and carded through the red envelopes. There must have been close to fifty. "You got all these?" she asked, trying to hide her slight alarm.

"Some are from neighbors. You wouldn't know it, looking at me, but I can be persuasive."

Y/N snorted, remembering their first encounter. "These are very helpful. Thank you. I'll keep in touch, all right?"

Ms. McPhee nodded gratefully.

"Now," Y/N said, closing the box. "Can you tell me where Anderson Avenue is?" She pondered on to say next. Was Arthur her boyfriend? They hadn’t discussed it. But she thought it would seem odd not to know where her boyfriend lived. "I want to visit a friend before I head home."

"What's the address?"

"225a."

Ms. McPhee pointed as she gave directions. "It’s close. When you leave here, go right, then take another right at the corner."

"Thank you," Y/N said.

Passing her, Ms. McPhee opened a kitchen cabinet. "Let me get a bag. You can take some cookies with you."

~~~~~

Stretching her shoulders, Y/N hastened up the sidewalk. The shoe boxes were tucked safely in her bag, making it cumbersome to carry. It felt funny, knowing she'd have to keep evidence, at her apartment. But that was the only way she'd know it was secure. If Matt found the letters, she didn't think he'd kick her out on her ass. There was a good chance he'd shred them, though. That was too big of a risk. Tomorrow, she'd have to invite Patricia over to talk about the bullshit she'd found and, hopefully, enlist her help.

As she approached the courtyard of Arthur’s building, she ran her hand through her hair, then smoothed her pencil skirt with her palm. She wondered if he appreciated pop-ins. It was early Sunday evening and most places were closed, so it seemed unlikely he’d be out. Maybe she was being too impulsive. But it had been nearly two days since she'd seen him. It felt like two weeks. They'd had their nightly phone call, but it wasn’t enough.

After their dinner, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. For most of the evening, he’d seemed comfortable, needing reassurance only once or twice. The conversation had been enjoyable, even when it got heavy (though he still didn’t talk much about himself), and his company a warm presence. She loved how he'd tenderly held her as they'd danced, with her trying not to step on his feet. And the way his hesitancy had temporarily fallen away when he’d kissed her with what felt like his whole body.

If she was honest, she’d been forcing herself to see him less than she wanted to. Having him around her everyday would have been too much for her to think clearly. And clarity was what she needed. She didn’t want to rush into a fling that would flame out in a week. Their connection had become too important for that.

He’d worked his way into her heart so quickly, faster than she could have predicted. When she was at the office, a sarcastic remark or joke brought him to mind. She would recall the feel of his lips on hers at random. When shopping, she sometimes saw an item he might like, a sweater she thought would actually fit or a fancy lighter, and have to fight the impulse to buy it. She didn’t want to freak him out by showering him with gifts before they were a couple.

She took a deep breath to clear her head as she entered his building, then went to the mail area to find his apartment number. It didn't take long: "P. Fleck, 8J." When she went to the elevator, she paused. It looked rickety. But she had enough reading material if she was stuck for an hour or two. Stepping into it, she pushed the button for the eighth floor. The lift thought it over before closing and starting its slow ascent.

Once she arrived, she went the wrong way down the corridor and had to double back. She laughed at her mistake. At least the extra steps helped build her excitement. When in front of Arthur’s door, she bounced quickly between her toes and her heels, then pressed the buzzer.

"Coming!"

The sound of his soft, raspy voice, the anticipation of knowing he'd be with her in a few seconds... She smiled. As she heard the chain lock being slid over, she bounced again, once, feeling simultaneously ridiculous and perfect.

The door opened quickly and Arthur stood there, a dishtowel over his shoulder. Y/N didn't miss how his gray thermal shirt clung to his torso and arms, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He braced himself against the door, his eyebrows creasing in the middle. "Oh, hey. What are you doing here?"

She stared at him, his slicked-back hair from what she assumed was a recent shower, his eyes piercing hers. It took a moment for her to process his question, and she swallowed before answering. "I was working in the neighborhood and wanted to wish you luck before your show."

"On a Sunday?"

She gave a shrug. "It's unusual, but it happens."

"I thought you'd call," he said.

That wasn't what she'd expected. Ugh, he had been busy. She scrunched up her face. "Am I interrupting you? I wasn't sure if I should just show up. I can go if-"

"No." Arthur shook his head and looked down, sighing. "That's not what I meant."

She saw his shoulders tense as his hand moved to the doorknob, which made a jiggling sound when he fiddled with it. Y/N took a step towards him and leaned against the frame. "I've missed you since Friday."

A smile came across his face, slowly spreading from cheek to cheek. "Really?"

"Really." She dug into her bag, then, and held out the bag of cookies. "The client I was with gave me these. They’re for you and your mother."

Eyes flicking to hers, he took them. "That’s sweet." His hand was so close - he hadn't drawn it back completely.

Y/N pursed her lips, a tad frustrated. He wanted her to touch him - hell, he'd come right out and told her. And she hadn't missed the feel of his erection against her when she’d been in his arms. "May I kiss you?" she asked.

A breath of relief came out of him as he chuckled. "Yeah." The cookies were quickly put on the side table. He leaned into her a bit, his voice lowering. "You don't have to ask, Y/N."

"Good to know," she said, grinning at him. Her bag fell to the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It only took a second for his right arm to pull her closer, his hand splaying on the small her back. “You don’t have to ask me, either.”

He tilted his head, nuzzling at her cheek before their lips met, his left hand going to her hip. The warmth of his lithe form against her went straight to her core. A low moan left her throat. The way his lips pulled at hers, a bit clumsy but eager, made her arch against him. She could tell he was holding back, causing heat to settle deep in her abdomen.

He tasted of nicotine and coffee, neither of which were particularly pleasant, but were definitely him. The artificial fragrance of the shampoo he'd used smelled like cheap musk, but was nice nonetheless. And she could have sworn he was wearing aftershave. She sighed happily as their lips parted. "Mm. You smell good."

"Thanks," he answered, backing away, his face flushed. He turned his body so she could look into the apartment. "Come in?"

"I'd love to." After stepping through the doorway, she put her bag down next to the side table and hung up her coat. "I can't stay long, though. If you peek in my bag, you'll see paperwork waiting."

He stepped to the kitchen sink. "I was just doing dishes," he said, indicating the dish rack with his hand.

She went to his side as he put his hands in the water, and took the dish towel from his shoulder. "Let me dry." As they worked in tandem, Y/N heard the radio on the windowsill was playing at a low volume. He had been listening to an oldies station. She wondered if he always had music on when doing housework.

Arthur’s expression was content. He looked her way every so often, his dimples showing when he did. "How's your job?” he asked.

"It's fine." She started drying the cutlery, and putting it on the opposite counter, unsure of where it should go. "My boss called yesterday. I have to go to some benefit on Thursday at Wayne Hall. I'm going to have to find something decent to wear."

His response came quicker than expected. "You always look nice."

She blushed. "Thank you." Grabbing a plate, she continued. "I wish I could bring you with me. I hate these things. Thank god there's an open bar.” She scooted a bit closer. “How about you? Have you had any clown gigs?"

His face remained steady. “It's slow this time of year.”

When Y/N put the plate on the counter, a row of prescription bottles caught her eye. They all had Arthur's name on them, and they were mostly empty. A couple of the drug names were familiar to her: Ahenelzine, Diazepam... Those were for depression and anxiety. She'd taken something for depression herself for a time when she was back home. Without that extra help, she wouldn't have been able to deal with being a caretaker.

She flushed, turning away before she could read the rest. Apart from what was on his laminated card and his terrible smoking habit, she'd simply assumed he was healthy, if a bit tired. Maybe he had a thyroid issue - that would help explain his figure, though she adored it. Or perhaps he just needed help dealing with his mother.

Guilt welled in her. His medicine and medical history were none of her business this early on. She wanted to give him that respect. Until there was a problem, if there was a problem, it wouldn't matter. Not unless he wanted to share that part of himself.

But there were quite a few bottles...

Y/N watched him as he washed a bowl, thinking of the isolation he'd described on their first date, his excitement at being able to show her around his city. The happiness she felt when she was around him, even if he constantly second-guessed himself and was often unsure of what to say. The way he’d tried to comfort her when she’d started crying on her couch. Her heart did a little flip.

He was the same Arthur as sixty seconds ago, before she’d spotted the prescriptions. The medication could wait.

"After the show, I was thinking we could get something to eat,” he said, putting a glass in the drying rack.

She sidled up next to him. "I'd love to. Pogo's is in Chinatown, right? Kao Wah is pretty good. It'll be my treat."

He let the water out of the sink, then took the towel from her and dried his hands. "But I'm asking you out.”

She leaned back on the counter, facing him. "Yeah, but it's your night. It can be a congratulatory dinner and a date."

He turned to look straight at her, his hip against the sink's edge. A small smirk was on his mouth as he shook his head. Y/N saw amusement and disbelief in his gaze. With his arms folded over his chest, he still held himself with reservation, even after taking her breath away at the front door.

She took his hand; it was still warm and damp. It opened as she brought it to the dip of her waist. His eyes dropped to her mouth before a bashful smile took over and he looked away from her. He was so hesitant, it felt like he was teasing her. She cleared her throat. "In case I hadn't made it clear earlier, you can touch me, Arthur. I want you t-."

His mouth was on her almost immediately, and groaned softly in this throat as she brought her palm to his chest. She felt his other hand grasp at her side and pull her close, while at the same time he turned to pin her gently against the counter. Giggles bubbled up in her throat as his kisses changed, surprising her when he pressed soft pecks on her cheeks and forehead. He hugged her close, then, and buried his face in her hair, sighing.

As she ran her fingers up and down his back, she closed her eyes. All right. That display had provided some clarity. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "How did I get so lucky to run into you at the store and the donut shop, hm?" she asked, squeezing him tighter. "And on the train?"

Grip loosening, he stepped away, frowning. "You're not the lucky one." He reached for his cigarettes and lighter, which were behind him on the breakfast bar. He rubbed his fingers together, then put a cigarette in his mouth. "I wish I-"

"Happy? Are you home?" a voice from the bedroom sounded.

Arthur plucked the smoke from his lips, putting it on the counter. "Hold on, mom."

Y/N winced. "She won't be upset I'm here, will she?"

Shaking his head, he turned towards the living room. "I just need to help her get up. Give me a couple minutes."

She watched his form until it disappeared into a hallway to the side of the apartment. Stepping further into the it, she checked out the living room. The place would have been something twenty-five years ago. Now it was run-down, but clean and well kept. The plaid wallpaper, stained from cigarette smoke, wasn't one she would have chosen. Her eyes roved over the furniture. A brown notebook was on the coffee table. And the pillow, bed sheet, and blanket on the couch made her brow furrow. Arthur didn't have a bed of his own? How long had he been sleeping on the sofa? At least she'd had a room in Boonville.

It occurred to her, looking around, that apart from an ashtray and some shirts hung haphazardly in the corner, nothing in the apartment said Arthur. Not the ugly cat candle on a nearby bureau, not the paintings on the wall behind the TV, not the wax fruit on the weirdest metal stand she'd ever seen. It was like he was an afterthought in his own home.

Arthur's voice caught her attention. "Here you go."

The sight in front of her was well-known. He guided the older woman to an easy-chair, one arm under her shoulder, the other holding her hand. She looked at Ms. Fleck's face and faded red hair. It was obvious she'd been beautiful when she was younger. Arthur looked nothing like her, but Y/N thought he must have gotten whatever genes made him handsome from her.

Once settled, Ms. Fleck turned to her. "Who's that?"

"She's Y/N, mom. The woman I told you about." He flicked on the TV.

Y/N approached her and crouched down to be at eye-level. "Hi, Ms. Fleck. It's nice to meet you. Arthur's said such nice things about you." She stuck her hand out to the woman and flashed a smile at Arthur. He grinned.

Ms. Fleck didn't respond at first, almost looking through her. Then she lifted her hand and took the one proffered to her. "I never thought my Happy would find a girlfriend. Especially one so pretty." Her lips turned up. "He talked about you, but I don't know where his head is sometimes."

Y/N flinched. Gently, she let go of Ms. Fleck's hand, then rose to stand and look at Arthur.

He looked as if his mother had struck him, standing stock still in front of the TV with his eyes shut. Y/N had never seen him angry before, but his clenched jaw and the fists at his sides made it obvious.

Ms. Fleck spoke again. “Happy, did you check the mail?”

Arthur’s face fell. “There’s no mail on Sundays.” His answer came softly, voice low and trembling.

Y/N reached and took his hand, then guided him back to the kitchen, away from his mother. "Don't listen to her. It's her illness talking," she said. It was an assumption, but it felt right.

He braced himself against the archway as he lit a cigarette, staring at the floor.

Not wanting to cause him pain, but needing to know what was going on, she asked her next question carefully. "Why does she keep calling you 'Happy?'"

Smoke left his mouth and nose as he spoke. "She's always done that. She's always told me to smile and put on a happy face." His shoulders shook as soft laughter escaped him. "I don't want to be angry around you. I'm sorry." The hurt in his eyes betrayed the smile he wore.

"Arthur, stop, stop," she said, bringing her hands to his face. After kissing him firmly, she put her forehead to his cheek. "It's all right." She carded a hand through his now nearly dry hair. "I'm sorry she said that."

He didn't put his arms around her, instead standing stiffly against the wall. "You should go. I know you have work to do." He said it quietly, almost a whisper.

She worried her lip, wishing he would let her comfort him instead of shutting her out. "Do you want to come back with me? Have some space?"

"No," he said. "She hasn't eaten."

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah. I'll give her dinner and she'll want to go back to bed. Murray Franklin isn't on tonight."

Reluctantly, she let go of him. "Okay." He followed her to the door and helped her with her coat. Her throat clenched - he was still being thoughtful, even through his upset. She grabbed her bag and gave him a quick peck. "I'll call you when I get home. I already can't wait to see you. Pogo's at eight?"

Opening the door, he nodded, his eyes darting to hers for only a moment. "Pogo's at eight."

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @clowndaddyfleck​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @sweet-nothings04​

[persona-5-for-want-of-a-nail]

Chapter 2 - And So Ryuji Met Her

4/10

Megumi ruminated with her thoughts as she adjusted her blazer. She couldn’t stop thinking of her dream from the passing night. While, yes, she had been known to have strange dreams, who wouldn’t? Something about it just seemed so odd, and yet so real. She rubbed her thumb on her wrist, as if she could still feel the heavy chains upon it.

“Ruin… Rehabilitation?” She mumbled to herself, voice still croaky from her sleep. She sighed. After thinking about it long enough, she decided she’d probably be best of just not thinking about it. Sure, dreams have meaning, but just as often they’re nothing more than strange. 

“Looks like you’re up.” Megumi looked over at the source of the sound, only to find Sojiro standing by the stairs. “Well then, let’s go introduce ourselves properly to the staff about your transfer.”

“Okay.”

“The school you’re attending is in the Aoyama district. It’ll take a while to get there by train, and the transfers are a real hassle, too.” She did her best to hold in her groans. She wasn’t great at navigating the trains here to start, but if it’s that cumbersome just to get to the school… Well, really she had no choice to accept it. “I’ll drive you there, but just for today. Let’s go.” He said as he turned around, motioning her to follow, which she did with little hesitation, grabbing her bag on the way down. “Women your age usually aren’t allowed in my passenger seat, though…” 

Megumi didn’t know if Sojiro meant for her to hear or not, but she heard regardless. 

The car ride wasn’t exactly long, just over fifteen minutes, but the silence during it was deafening. Megumi wasn’t sure if it was in her best interest to start a conversation, so she simply fidgeted with the needle felted cat charm on her bag. The facial features on it were just a little bit skewed, but she still liked it.  

When the car stopped and both of them had exited, Megumi only followed Sojiro, simply keeping to herself. She was supposed to keep on good behaviour, but she still didn’t really know what the older man had considered bad and good. However, she did find herself rather enamored with the large building they passed. It had to have been the school, she could only guess. It was a lot bigger than the one she had spent her first year in back at home. As they approached the gates, Sojiro abruptly stopped, turning to the younger girl.

“Do me a favor and behave yourself, all right?” He had asked, expression already exasperated. “Don’t get me wrong- I don’t care what happens to you. Just don’t cause me any trouble.”  

“Yes, sir.” 

He sighed. At least she had seemed to be good at listening so far, but who knew how long that would last.

Sojiro led her through the halls of Shujin academy, and it had looked even better on the inside. In a way, she actually seemed more chipper after stepping foot in the building, like she could ignore why she was here and just pretend there was a normal explanation for it. Checking in with the Principal seemed to dash that idea, however.

“To reiterate, just so we’re clear,” He began. Principal Kobayakawa was a far different beast from what Megumi was used to. Intimidating, that was a word for it. “You will immediately be expelled if you cause any problems. In my opinion, you’re nothing more than a liability, but we had our circumstances to consider…” ...Well, the weight he was holding over her certainly didn’t quell her anxieties. “Whatever you might’ve gotten away with in your hometown… those days are over. If you are thrown out from our school, there will be no place for you to go. Keep that in mind.” Then, he gestured to the tired looking, younger woman next to him. “This is the teacher in charge of your class.”

“I’m Sadayo Kawakami.” She was curt with her words, not taking too much time to say her piece. “Here- Your student ID.” Kawakami set down the card, alongside it a folded piece of pink paper Megumi couldn’t quite get a good look at before it was snatched up by the teacher. Her gazed flicked between the card and the older woman before she took the card, looking it up and down before tucking it in her blazer pocket. “Be sure to read the school rules. Any violations will send you straight to the guidance office. If by chance you cause any problems, I won’t be able to protect you at all.” She looked to the larger man who still remained seated. “...That is your promise, yes, Principal Kobayakawa?” 

“She is responsible for all her actions.” The principal nodded as he spoke. Megumi felt a knot tie in her stomach. She was sure she wouldn’t do something bad- not on purpose, anyway- so she shouldn’t have been feeling this anxious about all of this, right?

“But really though, why me? There should’ve been better candidates.” Oh. Perhaps that was it. The looming feeling of not being wanted; being seen as little more than a pest. That was probably the source of the feeling.

“It was a sudden transfer,” Kobayakawa had reassured her. “Your class was the only one that had an opening.” Not wanting to get caught up in aimless banter between the two staff members, Sojiro spoke his piece.

“If you’re done explaining things, mind if we get going? I got a store to get back to.” However, Kobayakawa then looked him dead in the eye, the tension in the room becoming so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

“Sakura-san, keep an eye on her. Don’t let her cause any trouble outside…” Sojiro only shook it off, clearly not caring to worry about it in the present time.

“Well, I’ll be sure to have a serious talk about the situation she’s in.” She chewed her lip. She kinda already knew the situation she was dealing with, but were there more stipulations to the thin ice she was already walking on?

“Come to the faculty office when you arrive at school tomorrow. I’ll show you to your classroom.” Kawakami had told her, tone almost gentler than she was used to. Not that she had many gentle tones to go off of. 

“Alright.” 

The conversation had tapered off at that. Eventually Megumi had returned to following Sojiro as the duo had left the room and made their way out of the school, though the older man stopped just before they left from the entrance hall. 

“Everyone’s giving you the cold shoulder. That’s what having a criminal record does to you. Turns out your past follows you wherever you go.” Another twist formed in Megumi’s stomach. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be better if she stopped trying. She wouldn’t make waves, she could go home without problem. “By the way… if you get expelled now, I won’t hesitate to kick you out. Got it?” 

“Yes sir. I’ll be careful.” Yeah, maybe that would be better for her. Sojiro only nodded, though his gaze drifted around the entrance hall after not too long. He let out a sigh, though not necessarily out of frustration. 

“School never changes, huh?” He shook his head, motioning Megumi along. “Come on, we’re going home.” The teenager nodded and trailed behind him, returning to the car. 

Megumi has nestled herself in the corner of the car, cradled between the door and seat. She absentmindedly flicked through her phone, eventually coming to her contacts. While she was frustrated with the fact that her parent’s numbers were the only thing there; besides a couple classmates she’d called close friends who weren’t talking to her anymore, she had mentally reminded herself to call her mother later in the day, she was probably wondering how she was doing.

She hoped she was, anyway.

After a decent chunk of time passed, she looked up, a puzzled expression on her face. The car ride wasn’t this long the first time, was it? Sojiro, noticing her mild confusion, spoke up.

“Traffic’s not moving at all…” He grumbled out, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re taking the train starting tomorrow.” She nodded, expecting that. There was another beat of silence before the older man spoke again. “...So how was it? The school, I mean. You think you can manage?” 

“I think so?” She mumbled. “It could be fun, maybe, but I guess we’ll see?” 

Sojiro stayed quiet, though he did nod, indicating that he heard her. 

“Still, you were expelled once already. To think you’d re-enroll at a different one.” His eyes were still trained on the road, not looking her way. “It’s not like anyone will be sympathetic with you.”

Another beat of silence.

“...If that’s what it was like at school, people might say stuff about me in the future too.” His gaze tore itself off the road, looking over at the rear view mirror. “What a troublesome kid I’ve taken in…” 

Megumi’s brow scrunched. He wasn’t trying to keep his voice down- wasn’t trying to keep her from hearing. Without any thought, the only thing on her mind passed her lips.

“Why did you take me in, then?” 

“I was asked to do it, and I just… happened to agree to it.” The way he said it didn’t sit right with her, like he was trying to rush out any reply that made sense. “I’ve already been paid for it, too, after all.” He tacked on to the end, clarifying. As if trying to avoid whatever further prying the teenager would have, he turned up the radio just a couple notches, tuning in the news. 

“...And now back to today’s top stories. A subway train has derailed, severely affecting the timetable across all of-”

“Another accident?” Sojiro had said in shock. There was mention of one of those yesterday, wasn’t there? “So that’s why it’s so crowded.” He muttered to himself as he looked around the streets. “There’s been a lot of those lately.” He looked back to Megumi, finally directly talking to her again. “In fact, there was a real sad one just last month. If I remember right, the girl that passed away was only fifteen. Her parents have gotta be just…” He shook his head, returning his focus to the radio. 

“...All traffic around Shibuya Station is being redirected due to the accident, so drivers should expect jam-packed streets.”

“Oh, come on!” 

The rest of the car ride was rather tepid. At most, Megumi only responded to any brief conversation Sojiro started, though none were long lived. Most of her time was spent fiddling with her bag, her focus boiling down to a single stray thread. She had to cut that when she got back- making a small note of it on her wrist. 

It had gotten rather late when Megumi had followed Sojiro back into LeBlanc, the older man obviously frustrated with the situation.

“Damn, to think there’d be that much traffic… What a waste of time. I wasn’t able to open the cafe today…” 

Megumi lightly chewed on the inside of her cheek, an apology caught in her throat. Was this something to apologize for? Perhaps, but she couldn’t control the trains… But if she just took the train in the first place… but then she could’ve been caught up in the accident…

“Sorry.” She mumbled out. Sojiro only shook his head.

“Whatever. Just head upstairs. There’s something I need to give you.” She nodded, walking past the older man and into her room. He had followed, the illuminated screen of his phone reflecting on his glasses. 

“Talk about a gruesome accident… Eighty people were involved.” He had brushed it off for the moment, noticing the unease the younger girl was clearly displaying. Changing the subject, he tucked away his phone and brought out a pocketbook. “Here’s a diary. Make sure you keep it up to date.” Halfheartedly, he tossed it onto the table next to the stairs. “You may be under probation, but there’s no special limitations on what you do in particular; besides following the law, that is. However, I’m obligated to report on you, which is why I’m having you record your daily activities.”

“Okay.” Megumi had said as she approached the table, voice finally a bit more audible than Sojiro had been used to. “I’ll do my best to-” 

Though there wasn’t much she could say before Sojiro’s ringtone chimed throughout the attic. He held up a hand, silently telling her to just wait a moment as he answered the call.

“Hey, what’s up?” His tone was more casual then she was used to. A moment of silence lingered before he replied again. “...I’m about to leave right now.” A shorter pause. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there in no time. Uh-huh. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up and tucked away his phone. As he was preparing to leave, Sojiro took a glance back to Megumi. “Well, I’m off. I’ll lock the place up, so do whatever you want for the rest of the night.” He took the first step down the stairs, but snapped his gaze back to the girl almost immediately. “Oh, but don’t mess up my store. If something goes missing, I’ll hand you right over to the cops.” 

“Alright- I promise I won’t.” 

“Don’t forget you got school tomorrow… You better head off to bed, all right?” He called from the bottom of the stairs. He waited only a moment for Megumi to reply, getting a nod in return. 

After she heard the chime of the cafe’s bell, she had let out a long breath she had no idea she was holding in. Things would get less scary- she knew they would. Picking up the pocketbook she searched around her bag for a pen before a different phone ringing echoed throughout LeBlanc. Curiously, she wandered downstairs, the yellow phone by the door quickly being pegged as the culprit. Her hand lingered over the receiver for a moment though she decided there wouldn’t be any real harm in picking it up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me.” 

“...Sakura-san?” It came off as more of a question than she intended.

“Of course. You haven’t forgotten my voice already, have you?” She lightly chewed on her cheek. “Anyway… I closed up shop but I forgot to flip the sign to “Closed” when I left.” She looked over to the door, seeing the sign in question. “It’s too much trouble for me to come back just for that. Think you can do it for me?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

Don’t make waves.

“Good. I’m sure there’s a lot on your mind, but at least you seem to have the common sense of listening to the owner of the roof you're under. Anyway, I’ll leave the shop sign to you.” 

“Alright, have a good night.” 

Megumi waited until the dial tone sounded out in her ear, telling her that there wasn’t anything else he needed. With a little sigh passing her lips, she set the receiver back on the hook. Hesitantly, she unlocked the cafe’s front door and opened it, only a little bit. She snaked her arm out of the door, flipping the sign over with her index and middle finger. Perhaps just a bit faster than she should have, as soon as the sign had flipped, she retracted her arm back to her side and shut the door, locking it as soon as it shut.

Megumi leaned against the counter next to the phone, stewing herself with her thoughts. After long enough, she just shook her head. Sojiro was right, she did have a lot on her mind at the moment. Perhaps calling her mother could wait until tomorrow. She undid her braid on her way upstairs and scrawled down the days’ events in her new pocketbook, before resigning herself to the bed.

Just as she was about to put her phone down for the night, Megumi squinted as her eyes focused on it’s still-illuminated screen. She couldn’t quite tell what it was, but the red blur she could see told her enough. Perching her glasses back upon the bridge of her nose only confirmed it. That odd app was back yet again. It was odd, she was almost positive she had deleted it the night prior, but perhaps she only convinced herself of it in her exhaustion.

She shook her head, resting her index finger on the app and dragging it off to the recycling bin once again. For a moment, she drummed the fingers of her free hand on her abdomen, lost in thought, before she held down her cell phone’s power button, the small device flicking off and rebooting. In a worst case scenario, she’d have to just take it in to get looked at by a professional. She slid her glasses off and fell back on her pillow with an audible ‘thwump’. 

There was a lot to digest over the past few days, but she had been quietly hoping that going to school would help things mellow out. Get herself back on track- back in control. Maybe even make some new friends.

Though having that criminal record stapled to her probably wasn’t helping matters. 

She just decided to try not to think about it. Just getting to sleep and waking up was the important part. Cradling herself against the wall, she found herself drifting off to sleep before she knew what hit her.

4/11

Megumi stretched out after doing up her blazer, more optimistic than she’d been in since she’d come to Shibuya. Today was her day to turn things around for herself. A hum played on her lips as she slipped on her loafers, though soon that mood was diminished when she remembered the trains. 

She knew she had looked over the directions the night before, and even if she managed to not get lost, there was the looming threat of another train accident. A sigh passed her lips. What else was she supposed to do though…? The bed let out a creek as she stood up. Best to just leave now than risk being late. Her steps were quick as she grabbed onto her bag on the way down stairs, steps slowing to a crawl as she passed Sojiro, a plate of curry and glass of water on the counter in front of him. 

“So, you’re actually going to school, huh?” 

“Yeah, that was my hope, anyway.” 

Sojiro gave a shallow nod, motioning to the seat in front of him.

“I’ll feed you, just make sure you finish before the customers start coming in.” 

Megumi stared at the plate for a moment, glancing at her phone, before she took a seat, beginning to quietly eat the warm curry in front of her. Sojiro could only watch with mild amusement as the teenager took in a spoonful, her features lighting up with surprise and delight. Her feet swayed back and forth until she had finished, the older man carrying away the dishes to the sink in the back. 

“It’s time for you to go.” He had said, returning to the front and leaning on the counter. Megumi nodded, picking her bag back up. 

“Thank you for the meal, Sakura-san. It was delicious.” 

“Heh. Looks like you really have manners, after all.” He glanced over at the clock before looking back at the younger girl. “...Hurry over to school. You’ll end up late if you get lost on the way.” She nodded, opening the door. “Oh, and flip the sign to “Open” for me.” 

“Got it.” 

“Don’t forget.” He seemed to brush it off afterward, though. “Anyway, hurry up and get out of here. You’re gonna be late if you get lost, country girl.” 

She gave a final wave as she swiftly left LeBlanc, flipping over the sign before she broke into a light jog down to the train station. Megumi brought out her phone to double check her directions, catching the first train she could. 

Inside the train, she held her bag close to herself. It was far more crowded than she was used to, feeling people press against her from all angles was odd. Sure, she had heard about Tokyo’s subways, but she never realized that the rumours were true. 

Slowly, she creeped off the train as it screeched to a halt, feeling as if she could breathe again. 

Megumi was hesitant as she roamed around the station. Finding the Ginza line to transfer down to Aoyama proved to be more of a challenge than she was anticipating, but somehow she had made it, after more blind roaming than she’d like to admit, all to get into another borderline suffocating train ride. 

Disembarking on the second train filled her with a feeling of tranquility, if only because of the fact that she made it to Aoyama with zero total train crashes. That had to count for something, after all. Leaving the station, however, presented a completely different problem, which turned out to be the weather. She dashed out into the rain, much like many other students around her- though, many of those around her had the foresight to carry umbrellas with them, forcing Megumi to take shelter underneath a local shop’s overhang. 

Carefully, she shuffled her weight from toe to toe, not knowing what to do. She wasn’t entirely sure where Shujin was from here, and it wasn’t like she could wander around like she did the train station. Her lips pressed into a fine line as she mulled over her thoughts, brow furrowing as she noticed that blasted app on her phone once more. While her touch had lingered on it to delete once more, that train had ended up crashing as she noticed another student join her underneath the cover. 

The other student had brushed a small bit of water build up off her sleeves before gripping the edge of her white hood and pulling it back. Two pigtails spilled out from the fabric, and Megumi couldn’t help but find herself entranced by her sheltermate, the pale blonde colour of her hair being the main thing that grabbed the shorter girl’s attention. As she stared, she soon found a pair of soft blue eyes staring back at her. Hesitantly, Megumi brought up a hand to give a small wave, though the attention of both girls were taken from each other as a car pulled up in front of both of them. 

The window closest to the sidewalk slowly descended as an older man poked his head through. 

“Good morning. You want me to give you a ride to school? You’re gonna be late.” 

The black haired girl looked back at the blonde. It was clear to her that she herself wasn’t the subject of the conversation.

“Uhm.” The taller girl paused for a moment, but only for a moment. “Sure. Thank you.” She stepped forward and opened the front door, sliding into the passenger seat. Soon enough, however, the man had also directed his attention to Megumi.

“Do you need a lift, too?”��

Megumi thought about the offer. A ride would be nice, yes, but at the same time, she didn’t want to cause trouble…

“No. Thank you for the offer, though.” She had said, offering another small wave in case her voice was too soft to hear. 

She didn’t get a reply in return. The man simply slid the window back up, though that didn’t stop Megumi from noticing the rather melancholic look on the other girl’s features. 

...Well, not like it was her business, anyway. 

Before she even had the chance to stew her mind for a way to find Shujin, another student dashed up to her position, just after the car. 

“Dammit…” He had muttered out, just barely outside of the cover. “Screw that pervy teacher.” 

“Pervy teacher…?” Megumi mumbled, voice just above a whisper.

Though as soon as those words passed her lips, she found herself trying to swallow an invisible lump in her throat. The other student had now turned to face her, and it was then she realized he was most definitely someone she did not want to tangle with, just judging by his hair alone. 

While the girl she had seen earlier had a nice, pleasant blonde, as gaudy as most may find it, this was nothing but bleached to its current colour. Not to mention his stance and attire… 

So her punishment for not being in a train accident was to be pummeled by a school delinquent on her first day?

Hmm… 

Such is fate.

The sinking feeling in her stomach only worsened as he fronted on her, easily towering over her rather petite figure. 

“What do you want? You plannin’ of rattin’ me out to Kamoshida?” 

Without a second though, she shook her head, holding her phone close to her chest.

“No, I…” She trailed off, not making eye contact. “I… Don’t even know who Kamoshida is.” 

And playing much against her expectations, he seemed a bit caught off guard. 

“Huh? In that car now,” He gestured down the road, where the car had long disappeared, with a jab of his thumb. “It was Kamoshida.” He looked off to the street, annoyance clearly plastered all over his features. Megumi glanced back up at him, form tightly together. “He does whatever the hell he wants. Who does he think he is- the king of a castle?” Suddenly he snapped his focus back to the shorter girl. “Don’t you agree?” 

“Um,” She paused, brining a hand to her chin. “I don’t know, he didn’t seem that bad…” 

The boy blinked in confusion. His brown eyes flicked up and down, as if finally actually sizing her up. 

“...Wait, do you actually not know Kamoshida?” He crossed his arms. “Are you for real?” His demeanor softened, if only a little. “You’re from Shujin, right?”  

“You go to Shujin, too?” 

The enthusiasm in her voice caught the blonde off guard. 

“Uh… Yeah? No other high school’s got a uniform like this.” He slowly grabbed on to her hand and moved it to the side, revealing the little pin upon her blazer lapel. Megumi’s breath had hitched in her throat until his hand dropped back to his side, tucked away into his pocket. “A second-year, huh… We’re in the same grade then. Never seen you before though…” However, his eyes soon lit up in realization. “Oh, are you a transfer?” 

Sheepishly, she nodded.

“Yeah, I just came to town on saturday.” 

“Then no wonder you don’t know him.” He held his hand out from just outside the overhand, a few droplets of rain piling into his hand. “This rain ain’t too bad. We better hurry up, or we’ll be late.” Just as he had turned to leave, he stopped, suddenly holding his head. It was an action Megumi had repeated almost instantly. “Uuugh, my head hurts…” He muttered out, voicing what was on both their minds. “Dammit… I wanna go home…” 

Without another word, he trudged out from underneath the overhang, Megumi tentatively trailing behind. 

“...There was a terrible subway accident that day. You remember it, don’t you?” Megumi nodded at the prosecutor’s words. “I assume you know of the uproar that the public calls the ‘psychotic breakdown incidents.’”

“What does that mean…?” She had asked, voice cracky. The prosecutor only sighed in return. 

“It was all over the news, and one of the victims included a teacher at your high school.” She leaned over the table, hands tightly balled into fists. “I’ve no doubt you heard about it.” Megumi had a hard time meeting her gaze, only staring at her hands. “On that day… were you still an “ordinary” student?” Being met with only the silence of a scared teenage girl, she pulled back. “Let me change the question. You transferred to Shujin Academy, correct?” 

After a moment, she nodded.

“An ordinary prep school that could be found in any city…” Sae’s grip tightened around her sleeve. “That’s what it should’ve been. What happened around that time? Tell me everything- truthfully.” 

Megumi continued following her fellow student as he led her- presumably to school. She hoped, anyway. A tiny splash accompanied her steps as she walked through the occasional puddle. Her heart began beating faster as she followed him into a segregated area of the district- just an alleyway- though she found herself calming down if only a little by how he just continued on his way. 

Just before she could leave the alley, she had stopped for a moment, turning around, but she saw nothing but the exact same alley she was in seconds ago. She furrowed her brow. She could’ve sworn something felt odd… 

Perhaps not…

“Wha-?!” Megumi’s attention snapped to the end of the alley, her steps hurrying to the source of the noise, though, as she came to the other student’s side, her steps slowed as she was greeted with the sight of a tall, looming medieval castle. The blond looked back to the alley, confusion on his features. “We didn’t… come the wrong way through…” He looked back to the castle. “Yeah, this should be right… What’s going on here?” He and Megumi soon locked eyes. “I guess we’ll just have to go and ask.” 

Side by side they approached the large drawbridge, it’s wooden surface slick and wet from the rain.

The building interior was mildly humid, the dampness of the rain not quite yet leaving the air. Though, it was exactly what one could expect to see of a castle, candles upon the walls and pillars, slowly dripping wax below, about half a dozen gaudy chandeliers, reflective crystals dangling off them, and red carpets down each and every winding hallway. 

The blonde trudged onward, posture slumping as he stopped in the center of the large foyer. Nervously, he scratched along his jaw.

“Th-That’s weird… Where’s the school?”

“Did we maybe make a wrong turn?” Megumi asked, lingering behind him. 

“N-No!” He turned to her. “This has to be it!” The shock on his face softened as he rustled through his pocket. “I mean, it… should be…” His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the screen of his phone. “Out of service? Where’d we end up? The sign was for the school, right?” 

“I believe it was but-”

“Right?! You saw it too!”

The pair were cut off from whichever direction their conversation was going to go by a hulking figure in armor stepping out to the foyer, looming far taller than either of them. 

“Geez, you freaked me out… Who’re you? You a student?” Lacking both hesitation and forethought, the blonde approached the armored figure. “Man, your costume’s impressive… Is that armor real?” After a beat of silence, he crossed his arms, patience dwindling. “C’mon, don’t just stand there. Say somethin’.. Though as those words passed his lips, another figure, nigh identical to the first approached as well. 

“Are they school staff?” Megumi whispered to him, though she already knew the answer.

“I don’t know!” He glanced the armor up and down before taking a step back. “...This shit’s real.” Slowly one of the figures began closing the gap. “C-Calm down! Time out, man!” Taking another few steps back, he locked eyes with Megumi. “We gotta run!”

“Got it!” She squeaked out. 

“If you’ve ‘got it’, then move!” 

Leading the charge, the blond made a break for the door they had entered from, the black haired girl right behind him. They didn’t get far before more identical figures rushed out, blocking the exit, causing him to screech to a halt, Megumi bumping into his back. 

“Ugh, what’s with these guys?!” 

Lacking their sluggish demeanor from earlier, one of the armored figures bashed the student with their shield, bringing him down to the floor with a pained groan. 

“Y-You’re gonna break my bones, dammit! The hell you think you’re- aagh!” Before he could finish his thought, all of the guards closed in around them. Megumi herself was completely paralyzed, not knowing what to do until her skull was met with a harsh clang from another shield, sending her to the ground and forcing her to drift to unconsciousness.

[wintersweetbou]

Glaiveweek 2020- Day 6. Scabs to Scars

Day 6 of glaiveweek 2020! @glaiveweek

Prompt: The World has Stopped, Yet it keeps Turning- Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Summary: Galahd is dead. Its people flee for Lucis, desperate for sanctuary. It is granted, but takes time for the refugees to find a niche for themselves. Nyx and Libertus struggle to find their place where massacre haunts yesterday, hunger threatens today, and tomorrow is uncertain. 

Galahd was no more. Razed by incendiary rounds, crushed by mechs, and anything running in the shadows was shot by MTs, or ripped apart by demons. The people fled their shores, desperate to outpace the robotic tide. No one was spared, not even the children. Not a soul. Those who managed to get out made for the surrounding lands, in waves of refugees. King Regis of Insomnia accepted them graciously, his people did so too at first. 

Slums slowly filled with the survivors, packed and warm and dirty. It was never ideal, but people looked the other way when shoving immigrants into apartments nowhere near up to code. It was a relief, even. To people homeless from war, having a cramped, filthy space to call your own is still a haven. 

Nyx had a plan, at least. It was better than nothing- better than the dull task of surviving the day. To repay services rendered. The king’s retinue had arrived to hold off an assault as a ramshackle fleet of boats, waiting till the last second. Galahadians ran screaming for the shore...the boats couldn't wait...they were almost here...fire, sulfur...crystalline shields, holding them back...Nyx held her hand, dead sprint for the shore. She slipped. Get down, Selena!!!!

Nyx woke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. Libertus snored obliviously, sprawled over his half of the couch. Nyx struggled to control his breathing, trying not to further disturb the packed apartment. Crowe, a tiny scrap of a female, snarled in her sleep from her armchair nest. Snores and whimpers breathed down the halls from the overcrowded rooms. Nyx calmed slightly at the notion that he wasn’t alone in his pain. Nightmares were beyond common for everyone in the packed halls of the now-christened Galahd District. Days passed slowly, barely numbing the pain of yesterday. Nyx breathed deeply, settling back down. The cheap alarm clock on the side table read three thirty in the morning, just two more hours of sleep if he managed to pass out right this second. Nyx sighed, curling up into a ball. Odd jobs that he and Libs took were not going to cut it much longer. His face smoothed out as he snuggled deeper into the ratty couch, tugging the threadbare blanket about him. Tomorrow they would audition for the Kingsglaive. Rumor had it that the Citadel would accept anyone compatible with the king’s magic. Nyx grinned. Rumor also had it that Galahdians were strangely in tune with the crystal’s power. Today would be a good day. 

And it was. Nyx and Libertus passed the the test, the energy flowing through them rather than burning their veins. The compatible ones were led to an ornate meeting room in the Kingsglaive Headquarters, and told to wait for the examination to conclude. It seemed like every other fit galahdian was trying to get entry- about one in five seemed capable, extremely high percentage compared to the lucian citizenry. 

Crowe walked in, choosing a seat in the far corner, eyes down. Nyx waved, but she didn’t see, or care to respond. 

“She made it, at least.” Libertus shrugged. 

Nyx hummed in assent, glancing about. He recognized a couple of faces in the small crowd, but no names came to mind. He supposed it wouldn't matter. He would learn them if they were going to be working together. Tucking his braids back, he stretched. Libertus yawned, then drew himself up straight. Steps in the hallway, getting closer. Multiple people. The king, his shield, the captain of the glaive, and the newly named Marshal strode in, facing the new recruits.The king leaned forward, addressing his soldiers to be.

“You have shown affinity with the magic of this kingdom. Should you join my service, I will have you named my Glaives. An elite force, to strike back at the empire that burned your homes. I will not stand for this destruction. It is time to push back. Will you join me?” King Regis called, to be met with cheers. The king smiled.

“I’m glad to have you. This might seem rather rushed, as far as career advancements go. Background checks are rather difficult to do with the current circumstances. So I grant you pardon -your slate is clean. A new start- for Galahd and Lucis.” Nyx felt his core warm. This is what he came here for. This is what he wanted. 

“Now, each of you will need to be escorted to be photographed. Paperwork will be your first mission. Then fitting out for uniforms and equipment, and then the real training begins. A one week trial will be given to see if you really have what it takes.Titus Drautos is the Captain, and he will be in charge of training and commanding you. Heed him well. He does not impress easily.”

Drautos bowed at the compliment, and hushed murmuring ran through the hall. 

“Should you gain his endorsement at the end of the week, I will bond you to the magic of my blood. Go with honor.” The king stepped back, met with thunderous applause. He turned and left, leaving their new captain.

“You heard the King. My name is Titus Drautos- captain of the glaive. You are now my new recruits. Today we do paperwork and take measurements. Tomorrow, we see what you can do. Now, first order: Line up in alphabetical order by last name- A’s here by the door. Clerks are on the first door on the left hand side, they will call when they are ready. Return here when you are done. Should take a while. Refreshments and restrooms are on the right. I will be with the clerks if you have any questions. Have a good first day, recruits.” Drautos bowed, then waved for them to begin. 

The recruits rose, wandering to their supposed places. Crowe strode silently over to the front. A slight man with unruly brown hair tapped on her shoulder. 

“Arra?” He asked shyly, not meeting her gaze. 

“Altuis.” She responded, nodding as he shuffled in line behind her. The others slowly filtered in, checking names, chatting quietly. 

“Bellum?” “Behind me- Arra.” 

A young man with brown slicked back hair grumbled quietly, trying to find the L’s. He stepped up and tapped the next guy in line- a tanned stick of a teenager with dark eyes and wild black hair. “Lazarus?” 

“Khara.” The raven replied, stepping forward politely, giving him room to slide in. Lazarus did, and began chatting with Khara. Both stayed very polite, expressing wishes of success to each other in the coming training. Lazarus seemed to have ambitions of making an officer, while Khara was content to see how things went on their own. Neither spoke of their homelands, the burns and scars still freshly healed and very visible.  

Further down the line, Libertus and Nyx parted where the newly formed line wrapped around a corner. From their spots along the wall, they could see the entire room, and could maintain sight to each other without looking too out of place. There were only a few letters between O and U, and fewer people with last names between them. They maintained a quiet conversation of gestures and facial expressions.

 Nyx raised an eyebrow, cocking his head at Crowe, who was being led along with several others down the hall to get IDs. Libertus shrugged. The line shuffled forward, absorbing the space. Time began to crawl.

Nyx scanned the room, switching his weight to the other foot, leaning back against the wall. This was taking forever. Libertus nodded to the clock on the wall scratching his stubble, raising an eyebrow. Nyx shook his head, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. This would take a bit. Not only ID’s, but papers declaring citizenship, papers allowing them to work for deposit, and not under the table as they all had been since they got here. Probably actual bank accounts too. They should be happy to get these papers so quickly, as the office of immigration was a backlog of chaos- too many people to deal with all at once. It was getting better by the day, but it was still months waiting for work papers. Here they were being given out easy peasy. 

Eventually Libertus was called forward, then Nyx. The office was an open space, where clerks manned computers and printers, quickly making folios for the new recruits. Nyx quickly smoothed his hair, and stepped forward for his mugshot. He stared ahead for the camera, expression attentive but neutral. Then he was shooed to the nearest open clerk and began filling out a stack of paperwork of which the likes he had never seen. 

Libertus yawned and twisted, several pops bursting from his vertebrae. It took almost four hours, but the last of the recruits came back- Nyx among them. Libertus waved down his friend, Nyx ambling over through the chatting glaives to be. 

“Captain stopped by- said the crownsguard mess would be providing lunch- then we get measured.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Nyx grunted, then followed as the captain called for his recruits to follow. Lunch was filling, but bland. Galahd knew how to appreciate spice- the spaghetti and meatballs barely had any hint of a kick. It did the job, and Nyx guessed that was all it had to do. 

Measurements went far faster than the paperwork, Ramuh be praised. Quiet conversation rumbled through the armory, recruits pointing to various pieces of armor and weaponry, appreciative and wary at the same time. Nyx joined Libertus in mocking the cumbersome polearms. Lighter spears were the best long weapon- pure speed when used correctly, and with extreme utility at any fighting distance. Nyx glanced at the small arms section with interest- looking at the curved blades. His only blade was back in that shitty excuse for an apartment- hidden at the bottom of his meagre possessions. One blade out of a set...the other blade far from here, on a battered shoreline....

Libertus shook his best friend, worried at the clouded look that passed over his eyes. It happened less often than it used to- every day was progress- but it still bothered the shit out of him, and Nyx’s triggers were inconsistent and hard to identify at times. Libertus squeezed Nyx’s shoulder, pointing at a ridiculous collection of greatswords. Nyx shook himself, and chuckled at the sight. Light weapons, spears, and ambush had been the way to be in the jungles of Galahd. Stealth. Speed. Precision. Those were the tools of the hunter. 

Drautos called them back into the meeting room as the last of the clerks packed up. 

“Today you did well. Being able to take orders quickly and quietly is a hallmark of a good soldier.  Tomorrow, after a quick physical, we test your capabilities. Wear something you can move in- sweats and tees are good for now, plus a water bottle. Full range of motion will be noted- and be sure- for the love of the gods- to note any allergies, food and medical. We almost lost someone to a peanut butter sandwich. I refuse to let a sandwich kill any glaive.” 

The group snickered. A sandwich was an inglorious death, but hilarious to note afterward. 

The captain led the group back out, towards the Citadel entrance, giving instructions to return here at 7am sharp. The group murmured its assent, and dispersed into the ever present crowd in the Citadel Square. Nyx and Libertus walked along slowly, talking about what magic felt like. Nyx got takeout, while Libertus got drinks. They reconvened at their tiny shared apartment- kids scampering in the halls, Crowe nowhere to be seen. 

“I worry about her, sometimes.” Libertus muttered through a mouthful of rice. 

“More like always. You have a thing for her, or what?” Nyx slurped on his drink, fluttering his eyes. Libertus shoved him. 

“Nah. I just...she doesn’t have anyone, other than us. Remember when we found her, on the edge of our village?” Nyx nodded, munching slowly. Emaciated, filthy. 

“I just want better for her. She feels like a little sister…” Libertus mumbled into his stir fry. Nyx stilled, trying not to sink into painful thoughts. Crowe did deserve better, and Libertus was a good man for wanting that. But still- uphill battle. She did accompany them, but getting her to talk was a challenge. It was getting better- but still. She had the nasty habit of lashing out at things that moved in ways she didn't like- but it did keep her safe all this way, even here in Lucis. Creeps who tried to grope her on the subway left with bruised ribs and clawed faces, if they were lucky. She had a mean hook and her knee had almost neutered a dude who thought he could cop a feel off a refugee free of charge. 

“Give her time. We are all dealing with the clusterfuck of what happened.” Nyx sighed, sipping. Libertus exhaled impatiently, then shrieked as a hand descended on his shoulder. Nyx jolted, then burst out laughing. Crowe smirked, appearing from nowhere, stealing several fries from Nyx. 

“I can handle myself. Little sister this.’’ She flicked Libertus painfully on the forehead with a nice crack. He recoiled, cringing and grumbling about unfairness and cruelty. Crowe tossed her dark hair, relishing her stolen fries, settling into her armchair- covered with cheap fluffy throws. Nyx chuckled at Libertus sulkily rubbing his head. Warmth settled in his chest, soft and soothing, where it hadn't in a while. Subconsciously he knew what it was, even if he couldn't bear to acknowledge it. That calm you get when people who care for you are around. Family.

The physicals passed uneventfully. Weight taken, height measured, blood pressure noted, sample taken. Nyx was unaware of any allergies he had- medicine or food. He was healthy, reflexes good. Range of motion good for a man his age, needs to stretch more, but who doesn’t? The doctor gave him a form clearing him of restrictions, clean bill of health, and instructions to make a copy to keep, and one to go in his folio. 

Nyx made his copies and dropped them with a clerk, jogging over to the main group of recruits milling about the arena, waiting for the captain to announce the next activity. From the looks of things, running was in his future. A glaive was taping off lines around the arena, clearly labeling a track. Nyx grinned. He could run, and so could Libertus, if not without grumbling about it the entire way. Libertus was more of a weights kind of guy. The captain called the group over, and began the next section of testing.

“Each of you will need to keep a log of your training. After today, notebooks and smart watches will be provided for you to log resting bpm, workout bpm, weight reps, and activities done. The goal here is to hone you into the best version of yourselves, and teach you to maintain that. Today is just an introduction into that. The rest of the week you will be joining the other glaives in their workouts- so they may teach you how we do things, and see if you can keep up.” Drautos read from his clipboard, checking off names. 

“Light jog around the perimeter- warm up.” 

Nyx loped off, finding an easy rhythm. Crowe tapped his shoulder and jogged up, shoulder to shoulder. She moved effortlessly, and Nyx relaxed into the movement further at her calm. This was something he could do for hours, and she seemed to be of the same thought. Quiet and decorum could be accomplished, and even enjoyed in small doses. But movement was a simple joy, action soothed the snarly, spiky bits of thought that could wander in when he was inactive. This was meditation. 

They ran side by side, picking up the pace as the captain called for it in intervals, enjoying the smooth simplicity. The group broke up, different individuals having different strengths. Nyx and Crowe ended up firmly in the middle of the faster individuals, along with that Khara kid and several others. The middle group was the biggest, working at keeping the pace a little harder, but keeping it nonetheless. Most just watched as the Lazarus dude bickered with a redhead named Tredd about what weapon style was best.  ]

The last group composed of the larger recruits, those being more strength based, rather than dexterity. It wasn’t a bad thing, to be slower. Heavy hitters were needed too. The group noted that Drautos didn’t reprimand the slower group, but encouraged them to keep a steady pace. It was a good start on his part in growing loyalty. It was grown, not given. 

Libertus blew Nyx away in the weight room, benching well over three hundred pounds. Nyx could bench his own weight, but not much more. His upper body needed work, along with core and glutes. He was still growing, barely twenty one. The meat hadn’t yet settled on his bones like Libertus, but it was getting there. Provided he started eating better, getting more meat with meals. Nyx couldn’t wait for a proper salary...he could get his own apartment, and have snacks…

“ Time to go, hotshot.” Libertus chuckled, tossing Nyx his jacket. They made their way back, once again getting cheap takeout stir fry, and settling in for an early night. Something told them that joining the real glaives would suck, and that they would need all the energy they could get. They were right. 

By the next afternoon, the newbies were aching all over. Resistance training focused on overloading muscles to build them stronger- and overload they did. The real glaives were nuts- the military branch was new, but Ramuh, they were no slouches. Even without touching magic and combat practice, they blew the recruits out of the water. Back at the apartment Crowe dropped into her chair with a moan, falling asleep almost instantly. Libertus followed quickly, snoring immediately. Nyx chuckled, limping over, tucking each of them in. He would have to visit the elder down the hall- she made medicine in Nyx’s village, the old recipes that made powerful balms and liniments. Flopping into his spot Nyx thought about the coming days and shuddered. It was just the beginning. 

Days faded into each other, the new glaives too tired to really let it sink in. The week passed, and they became official glaive trainees, with official glaive paychecks. The three of them got their first apartment together, thankful to be free of the kids running underfoot, and crocherty elders demanding their attention at all times. It was still small and dirty, with truly awful water pressure, but soon it felt like home. Crowe found colorful paper lanterns, and with some cheap string lights, it made a living room without proper wiring feel festive. Libertus stocked the kitchen, properly cooking meals, with the necessary heat, thank you very much. Nyx was happy to get his own room- he really was- but he missed the comfort of knowing Libertus was right there, should nightmares get the better of him. The thought bothered him, until one night he realized that no matter the thickness of the walls, Libertus’s snoring would prevail. He would never be free of the six-damned snoring. 

They grew, in their own ways. Libertus hardened- his arms, neck, and torso showing what he spent his training on. He was upset that his belly didn’t shrink, but the combat sessions showed that that may have been a good thing- a strong core with padding makes you difficult to push around. He settled in, confidence blooming. Libertus regained his cheer from before the genocide of his people, mostly. There was a sharper edge to his temper, and dark moods that were not there when they were kids. But life continued on. He tried new recipes in the meantime, having Nyx and Crowe test them out. It was pretty good, with one notable flop that had everyone fighting for the bathroom. That recipe was burned by Crowe the second she recovered, after wresting open every window she could find.

Crowe, now being fed properly, blossomed. She was still slight, but was stupid quick and flexible. Her dagger skills were amazing, and her magic affinity was proving to be something terrifying. Crowe bonded with the rest of the glaives, keeping them on their toes. The lesson was learned quickly, don't try to mess with her, you’d end up bleeding. But befriend her, and she would keep you laughing with wit and sarcasm. And the pranks. The unending pranks with the other glaives. It got so bad once, most of the glaive were afraid to open doors and cabinets, for fear of silly string and glitter bombs. The glitter never came out all the way. 

Nyx filled out slowly, gaining strength on top of his speed, endurance from nonstop aerial warp tricks. His shoulders broadened, and his arms gained some definition. He was happy, more than he had been in a while. He had an apartment with friends, a nice job, and steady income. The routine was stabilizing- having a clear expectation of what the days and nights would bring, and what was expected of him. The nightmares still happened, but less and less often. When Galahd burned, he felt the world had stopped turning. But here he was. Still alive, and growing stronger by the day. Nifelheim should fear them. They were coming. For hearth and home.

[quicksilverlightning]

The Interview

Might Tower is imposing, even on a clear day. Now, with the storm clouds rolling overhead, you could easily imagine it as a supervillain’s lair. You sigh wistfully, thinking of the umbrella you left on the bus.

You enter the lobby through the double doors and immediately head for the press entrance. The security clearance is swift and painless - metal detector, ID check, page though your notebook, nothing terribly invasive. The guard that has just finished patting you down gives an apologetic smile and a temporary badge that you clip on to your jacket. You ignore the main elevator and walk quickly over the glossy floor, passing the information desk where another guard is chatting up the redheaded secretary, and several cased displays of memorabilia, detailing both large and small moments in the long career of All Might.

The smaller elevator you’ve been directed to is tucked against the back wall and you swipe the badge, nodding to the guard with more confidence than you actually feel. You were invited here after all, one of dozens of reporters clamoring for the opportunity to interview All Might in the aftermath of Kamino Ward.

You nearly fell out of your chair when the boss tossed the press packet on your desk. It wasn’t until later, after the initial shock wore off, that things began to make a little more sense - the small-time office you work at was destroyed in the hero’s final fight. Even though you knew All Might was personally footing the bill for a significant amount of the reconstruction, you wouldn’t put it past your boss to put a guilty spin on the request for an interview; it was a small price to pay for recompense, surely?  

You shake these thoughts off as the elevator stops at the 48th floor, just a few flights short of the top. The door opens with a musical ding and you find yourself in an open room covered in a creamy golden carpet. The walls are a rich, warm brown between vast swaths of windows overlooking the cityscape. Large rectangular frames decorate the walls at regular intervals; the nearest one is just a few steps from the elevator, and you realize that they’re movie posters. You can see some superhero films, as expected, but also a Western, a few sci-fi flicks, some sort of period drama, and, surprisingly, a couple of animated movies. The one you’re looking at is autographed, and you suspect every poster in this room is as well.

“Admiring my collection?”

The voice is deep and smooth, a far cry from the boisterousness of All Might, but you jump all the same. The man himself is standing on the other side of the room, hands clasped loosely behind his back, apparently watching the city as he waited for your arrival. He raises his arms in a placating motion at your start with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to startle,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

He’s tall is the first thing in your mind. You knew that of course, intellectually, but seeing it in person is another thing entirely. All Might towers over you even slouched as he is, folded over on himself as though he’s afraid to take up too much space. His face is gaunt, but not unpleasant, blond hair bursting from his head like a sunflower. Long, spindly limbs stretch from his torso - all in all, he looks more like a scarecrow than a professional hero, even a retired one. You jolt again when you realize he’s watching you, waiting for a response.

“Ah, no, sorry - I was the one spacing out.”

It’s your turn to fumble, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, clutching at your notebook a little tighter. You jump one more time when he throws back his head and laughs.

“Well, miss,” he swings an arm wide. “Welcome to Might Tower! I have to say, you got up here faster than any of the others.”

You furrow your brow. Faster? He doesn’t wait for you to ask.

“I let the security team give visitors a little hell when they get a bit too entitled.” There’s a spark of mischief in his grin. “Gives me an idea of what’s coming for me.”

You can’t help the breathy giggle that escapes, lifting a hand to stifle it.

“So, me being the fastest…”

“Tells me that you’re polite, and probably of a rather calm disposition,” he nods with a wink. He moves away from the window towards the middle of the room where two overstuffed couches sit on either side of a wooden coffee table.

“Please, have a seat. Can I offer you some tea?”

“Oh, yes, thank you.” A hot cup of tea sounds delightful after the chill outside. You seat yourself in the middle of the couch.

All Might looks startled at your easy acceptance for a moment then laughs again. He shuffles over to a small counter against the wall, still chuckling.

“I’ve been making that offer to every reporter that’s come up here for almost two weeks,” he sounds genuinely pleased. “This is the first time anyone’s taken me up on it!”

He bustles about, grabbing dishware and sugar packets, setting a kettle on a small warmer. He loads everything on to a silvery tray, leaving the water to boil. The tray is placed on the dark wood between you and he settles himself on the opposite couch.

"You’re from the Kamino office, yes? The one caught in the crossfire?” His tone takes on a more somber note. You can see the guilt resting in the lines of his face and you find yourself rushing to reassure the former hero.

“Yes, but it’s not your fault!” You cringe inwardly, worried your voice was a little too loud, too eager.

“No one was there that night anyway and, well, the building wasn’t all that great.” You offer a timid smile that grows a little wider when the tension in his shoulders eases.

“All the same,” All Might runs a hand through his mane of blond hair. “I am sorry,” he looks tired, guilty, and you search for something to say.

“It’s okay. Really!” Your voice is too loud again when it looks like he doesn’t believe you. “I’m looking forward to working in a nicer office. Something with an open floor plan, maybe a few more windows."

He chuckles at your burst of enthusiasm. It’s a low sound that rumbles around the room like distant thunder. A moment later, you realize it was thunder - you forgot all about the storm brewing outside. You glance over; it isn’t raining, not yet, but there are streaks of water against the large windows. All Might hums in the back of his throat, pushing himself off the couch.

“That’s one of the things I like about these tall buildings,” he moves to grab the steaming kettle.

“You like the rain?”

Steam billows from the spout as he pours water over the tea leaves.

“I do. I find it soothing.” He places a small cup on your side of the table before pouring his own.

“Well,” you decide to tease him a little. “I suppose being a hero is quite the stressor.”

“Indeed,” he takes a sip. “But I doubt you’re here to make small talk about the weather.”

Right. The interview. To business then. You open up your notebook and click your pen.. Am interview with All Might - the number one hero and dream client of every journalist. The rest of the office was seething with jealousy, but you’d been chosen for this because… well, nevermind that now.

You didn’t want to think about why.

“So… uh…”

He’s casually stretched out on the couch, one arm resting along the back, legs folded over each other at the knee, waiting. Your throat feels suddenly dry, tongue cumbersome in your mouth. There’s a memory of grit in your eyes, blood on your lips.

You thought you were ready for this; you thought the questions on the first page of your notebook would be enough to guide you through your nerves. The pen in your hand clicks and clicks before it suddenly slips from your sweaty hand. You fumble and fail to catch it before the pen bounces off the coffee table and lands on the carpet. All Might reaches to grab it just before you, long arms stretching impossibly far and you jerk back before your heads collide. He offers the pen back with an easy smile, and you can feel your face heating up as you take it.

“I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?”

You pinch the corners of your eyes, frustrated and embarrassed. He surprises you by chuckling and leaning forwards.

“It’s perfectly all right,” he says with a light pat to your knee. “I promise you, this won’t be the worst interview I’ve taken part in. Take a breath dear, and ask me what you want to know.”

You do so, holding the air in your lungs a moment before letting go with a noisy exhale. You’re still fidgety, twisting the pen around your fingers, and it doesn’t escape his notice. He laughs again.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he leans back into the plush couch. “I’ve given so many interviews over the years - there’s not a lot left you can shock me with.” His smile is crooked like he’s trying not to laugh again, and he gives you a cheery thumbs up.

You look down at the notebook in your lap, scanning the questions your boss and co-workers have scribbled down. It’s the usual parade All Might has been getting for thirty years - what’s your Quirk? What advice would you give to aspiring heroes? Are you single? - alongside a new set that has been making the rounds for the past few weeks - what will you do now? How could you hide this for so long? Is your presence at the school putting the students in danger?  

You came here to ask these questions, but suddenly find yourself annoyed. You want to rip the page out, crumple it into a ball, and set it on fire. Instead, you sigh and carefully tear the page out, passing the sheet to All Might.

“You’re right; there’s nothing on this page that you haven’t been asked before.” You can see his eyes passing quickly over the list.

“You must be tired of giving the same answers over and over again.”

“It’s all part of the job, my dear,” he passes the page back, still smiling.

“The job…”

Something in the way he says it gives you pause.

“But… being a hero wasn’t just a job to you, was it?”

He doesn’t answer, cocking his head to one side, sensing you have more to say. You rush forward, before the thought escapes.

“I mean, you’ve never just done the bare minimum - everything is above and beyond with you. You always have time for fans and autographs, there’s always a charity donation, always another villain, another rescue. You’ve given so much more than you ever had to.”

All Might isn’t smiling now, and you feel tears spring to your eyes.

“You’ve given so much - your time, your body, your health, to a world that takes and takes and never offers anything back. Even now, after everything… after you’ve given everything… people out there are trying to bring you down. And you’re still here, just giving the answers to people that are going to use them against you.”

You really are crying now, slow tears crawling over your cheek before being roughly wiped away.

“I - I don’t want to be another person that just takes something from you. But there’s nothing I can give.”

You’ve been looking down this entire time, watching the stains on your notebook get bigger, but look up when a hand enters your field of vision. All Might is leaning forward again, sliding his palm across the side of your face as his calloused thumb brushes your tears away. His smile is gentle and sad and the tenderness of the gesture is enough to make you cry harder, burying your face in your hands.

There’s a soft rustle from across the table and you feel the dip of the couch as All Might settles beside you, one arm resting across your back and shoulders. You sense rather than hear his quiet murmurs, vague sensations of it’s alright and don’t be sorry, and you realize that you’ve been apologizing for the last half-minute. You aren’t even sure why - for crying? For everything he’s lost? For the vultures circling, waiting to take even more from this good, impossibly kind man?

Something in your chest aches and you fold your palms over your heart, bent double, and his hand is still on your back, sliding up and down between your shoulder blades, rubbing little circles along your spine. He sits quietly and lets your sorrow run its course around him, like a boulder in a river. Each small kindness - his patience, the offer of tea, the soft half-hug he has you wrapped in - has only magnified his humanity. He’s All Might - he’s been a hero for longer than you’ve been alive, but here, his weakened form warm against your side, all you can think about is the blood he left on the ground that night, his uselessly broken arm dangling limp from the socket, the tattered cape he ripped apart with his teeth and used to tourniquet the leg of a woman rescued from the rubble.

Because you lied - there was someone in the office that night. You had slept there, pushing yourself towards a deadline you knew, that your boss knew, you weren’t going to be able to meet. It was why your boss gave this job to you; you were the only one who’d had a front row seat of the destruction. You were there when the ground shook you awake, the shockwave of the battle rattling the windows from over half a kilometer away. You were there with the crowd panicking in the street, confused, terrified, lost as the world simply crumbled and collapsed with each explosion. You were there as he stood alone against an enemy you couldn’t comprehend, that none of you could comprehend, alone against an unimaginable evil that sapped his strength and wore him down and broke him over and over again and he was still there, still standing between darkness and the people he swore to protect.

Once you’ve cried yourself out, some semblance of awareness of the world begins to return. You sit up slowly and All Might removes his arm, standing and grabbing the tea set from the table. He pours the lukewarm water away and begins a fresh pot, politely allowing you a few moments to gather yourself. You close your eyes and recline into the couch, letting your spine stretch itself out again, and breathe deeply for a few minutes. A soft clink tells you that All Might is back and you open your eyes to find him offering a new cup of tea with that same sad, gentle smile.

You reach out with a small thanks and if your fingers tremble a little, he doesn’t say anything.

“Sorry. Again.”

He pauses a moment while pouring his own cup.

“You know,” he places the teapot back on the tray.

“Many, many people have cried on me. Terrified children, thankful parents. Over-eager fans,” his grin is a little cheeky here, and you find yourself returning the sentiment in spite of yourself.

“Tears of relief, fear, joy,” he gazes into his teacup like it holds all the mysteries of the universe. He looks up and you find yourself trapped by the intensity of his gaze.

“But this is the first time someone’s ever cried for me.”

His eyes are full of strength and pride, gratitude and something else, something you have no name for. He holds you there for several heartbeats, each one pulsing in your ears until you can’t help but blink and the moment is gone. He sets his cup down.

“So thank you.” The sad smile is back.

“Thank you for crying for me.”

Your eyes are beginning to prickle again, and you hurriedly wipe the feeling away with a sniff. He takes a sip from his cup and looks away, giving you a moment to shuffle and settle. You take another deep breath.

“A-anyway,” your voice is shaky, but you do your best to press on.

“I guess… what I want to ask… well, no, I don’t want to ask anything really.” You really have messed this up, haven’t you? This interview has gone completely off the rails; you can already hear your boss yelling at the mess you’ve made. All Might reaches for your tea.

“Here, take a drink,” his voice is easy, placating. “Just breathe, dear.”

You wonder if he knows; if he knows who you are, that you were there that night, and that it’s all you can think about in this moment. The tea is sweet and the heat at your fingers steadies you, moves you away from the taste of blood. One more deep breath.

“I… what I want to know is… what do you want to say?”

He blinks at you with a puzzled expression. You bite at the inside of your bottom lip, not entirely sure yourself what you’re asking. He hums, fiddling with his bangs, clearly thinking, but you can’t read his expression at all.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

It’s your turn to blink. His smile is cheerful again, with a hint of playfulness.

“Sorry?”

“Thirty-five years,” he leans his elbows on to his keens, hands folded together, dangling between his legs. “Thirty-five years I’ve been a professional hero, and not once in all that time has anyone simply asked me what I wanted to say.” His eyes have you pinned on the couch like an ungainly butterfly and you cross and uncross your ankles.

“Sorry - I’m not very good at this, am I?”

All Might throws back his head and laughs. He laughs and laughs, deep from his stomach, hair brushing against the back of the couch, and you can’t help but feed off his joy, your own laughter small and soft in comparison, but there all the same. It cuts off abruptly when he coughs suddenly, one hand against his mouth, the other clutching at his left side.

“Are you okay?!” Now you’re the one reaching out, not quite brave enough to touch him, but he waves you off.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, this happens all the time,” there’s a smear of red at the corner of his lips. But his smile hasn’t wavered, so you decide to trust his judgement and let it go. Your expression must still betray your concern, because he offers an explanation.

“It’s the result of an old wound,” your eyes flick to where his left hand is bunched in his shirt. “Really, I’m used to it.” His grip loosens and falls away.

“I’ve already cried for you today; don’t think a few platitudes are going to keep me from worrying about you too.” The quip leaves your lips before you can even think about stopping it and you want to slap your hand over your mouth and take it back even as your face flushes red.

All Might laughs yet again, this time more of a asthmatic chuckle that makes your heart skip, ready to reach out if he starts coughing again.

“Thank you, my dear. Truly.” His eyes are shining in amusement. “But in regards to your question - may I think about it?”

You pause a moment, trying to remember what the question that started all this was.

“Oh - about what you’d like to say, you mean?”

He nods. “I’d like to mull it over for a little while, if that’s alright with you?”

“Of course,” you reach into one pocket, then the other before finding what you need. Your business card is simple - name, number, e-mail, web address. He takes it between his long fingers.

“Please, take as long as you need,” you offer a small bow from your seat on the couch.

“Thank you,” All Might stands and offers you a hand up. “I look forward to speaking with you again.”

You take his hand and he walks with you to the elevator. It still hasn’t started to rain outside - perhaps you can make the bus stop before the bottom drops out.

“Ah, you can just call or e-mail me if you like - we don’t have to meet in person.”

There’s a flicker of something on his face before he manages to school it into something more neutral.

“You don’t want to talk to me again?”

“No! I mean yes! I’d love to talk to you again! I just thought that you’re so busy and you might not want to waste time in person and I’m really not very good at interviewing so maybe you’d prefer something else,” you’re babbling, you know you’re babbling, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. You realize abruptly that the micro-expression you’d seen on his face was one of hurt. He places a hand on your shoulder, turning to you fully as you cease speaking.

“I would love to talk to you again,” his voice is deep and kind. “You did wonderfully; this has been one of my favorite interviews.” His smile stretches all the way across his face.

“I - thank you,” you drop your head in a hasty nod, sure that you’re blushing again. His hand drops your your shoulder and presses the elevator button.

“By the way,” All Might sounds hesitant for the first time all afternoon. You turn to him, puzzled.

“Do you like movies?”

You smile, thinking of his poster collection. “Well, not as much as you seem to. I don’t really go to the theater all that often.” The elevator dings and you turn to enter before facing him one more time.

“Thank you again. For everything.”

You hope he understands what you mean by everything. His hands are in his pockets and his body language is relaxed.

‘You’re welcome.”

You think he does.

[dxitydoo]

So... the iPhone SE...

Alright this one is gonna be a long one so scroll on past if you’re not interested. If you are, then buckle up because here’s a multi-part essay about my opinions on the new SE.

For anyone that saw my post about getting a new phone and wondered what phone I got, I got the new iPhone SE (yes, I’m an Apple person. Don’t come for me).

At first, I was seeing videos of people getting excited over the phone but now, as time has gone on, those same people are now making videos criticising the phone.

Admittedly, they have some good points to bring up. The battery of the new SE is not amazing. It doesn’t outlast my dad’s XR which is somewhat annoying to say the least.

My counter-argument to that is that it lasted a whole day of me playing games on full brightness in the sunlight and didn’t die on me once which is honestly incredible after the last phone i had but anywho we’ll discuss this later.

My problem with a lot of those videos is that I feel like they’re getting the wrong end of the stick about what the SE is trying to be and they’re comparing it to the wrong phones.

The Original SE

The original SE’s main selling point (seriously why did Apple name them like this this is confusing) was that it had the newer internals of the 6S (so the faster processor, the better camera, etc) in the smaller body of the older 5S.

That was why I, and a lot of others I’m sure, liked it. Because it was a newer phone but in a size I preferred.

It also didn’t break the bank.

The old SE was praised for combining new and old in a way that complimented the old form-factor and rejuvenated in while also allowing people to access the newer features that were coming out in updates. At the time of writing this (27/04/2020), the old SE still supports new iOS updates and runs iOS 13 with minimal hiccups (not counting the fact that iOS 13 isn’t the most bug-free of updates).

But now, in 2020, the new SE is released and people are criticising it for the same thing they praised it for back in the day. They’re complaining that it has Touch ID, that it doesn’t have a edge-to-edge display, that it’s small, that the battery isn’t good, that the camera doesn’t stack up.

Look.

Everyone is free to have their own opinion. If you don’t like the SE, that’s fine. You don’t have to. No one is forcing you to. Just keep scrolling coz I do like the SE and I’m about to defend it til I run out of breath.

The “Old” Body

The SE combines old and new. That’s it’s schtick, that’s its gimmick. It was the thing for the 2016 SE, its the same for the 2020 SE. Although I would’ve loved to see an SE with an edge-to-edge display like any of the X or the 11 range, I’m not super surprised it hasn’t happened.

In fact, the small changes they have made, such as all colours now coming with a black bevel (and the better colour matching between the bevel and the screen), make it look really high-quality and beautiful honestly.

It has the same body as the 6, yes, but it doesn’t look like the 6 because of that colour-matching. And I appreciate that.

Oh! And the back being the non-metallic colour? God that’s sexy. The back is more reminiscent of the 11 (or the XR, I suppose, depending on what colour you got) than the 6 or 7. So it’s not unchanged?

Touch ID and Haptic Touch

Again, a controversial topic. The Touch ID in the SE is like the 3rd Gen or something?? I don’t actually know. But it’s several generations in at this point and it shows.

I came from the original SE, which had one of the first ever generations of Touch ID (if not the first) and the speed with which this new phone unlocks is incredible compared to the older model.

I tap the button once and the phone unlocks instantly. That is it.

Maybe it’s cumbersome to have Touch ID back again after all this time but if you’ve come from a Touch ID phone, especially one of the older models (which really... I think that’s probably the intended audience), it’s a big improvement.

And look no further for someone who was viscerally against the fake button Haptic Touch thing.

I hated the idea of it. My view was I either wanted the real button or no button at all. Full stop. End of story. You’d never change my mind.

Yeah... the new SE changed my mind.

I have the haptics turned up to the highest setting and it actually feels like a real button. Its less spongy than a real button, of course, and feels stiffer (kinda? Maybe just shallower) but its actually a really satisfying feature.

I remember first trying the fake button on the 7 and it vibrated at the wrong time or you’d try to press it to do one thing and it’d do another. It was confusing and made it very difficult to use.

I will say now I haven’t actually tried using an 8 so I can’t pass judgement on that but i like the SE.

And the Haptic Touch is really really nice.

I never thought I’d have a phone that has built-in rumble when playing games but here we are. This is the future.

Aside from being kinda nifty to feel the vibration in your hands when something happens on-screen, the Haptic Touch vibrates under your finger when interacting with the rotating dials to set timers or reblogging posts on tumblr. It’s a weird experience but not an unpleasant one and I like it way more than I was expecting to.

The Small Size

As for the size?

I really like it.

It’s big enough that it feels like a step-up from my old phone but not so big that I’m struggling to hold it (*cough cough* the XR *cough cough*).

Okay so my touch-typing is suffering a wee bit at the moment but tbh I started to struggle on my old phone before I upgraded coz the screen was just a little too small so it’s more a me thing than an it thing. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.

The camera.

I feel the need to mention that my last phone was the 2016 SE so, maybe it’s because my standards are really low, or maybe I’ve never owned an 11 and, therefore, have no comparison for it that way? But I don’t think the camera is bad.

In fact, I would even go so far as to say the camera is really fricking good.

After using a phone with a front-facing camera that could barely shoot 480p, stepping up to 1080p on the front is Wild™. The difference between this new camera and the old one is incredible.

If you want a camera that shoots good quality photos, has good colour balance, can actually show the sky as blue when shooting through a window (yes this is how low my expectations are), then omg this phone is incredible.

Obviously, its never gonna beat the 11 with its two cameras and its not gonna be able to contend with the 11 Pro series with their three cameras but hey, the phone is like half the price so??

The Battery

Okay, so lets talk about the battery.

I know this is a bit of a sore spot with people because iPhones recently have been coming out with bigger and better batteries every year.

I did a quick check through and, according to Apple, the battery life is about the same as both the 7 and the 8, which makes sense as they all share the same body. Unfortunately, that means that its probably a size issue. As in, thats the longest a battery of that size can last in a phone. Which is kinda annoying.

But, this is a post about my experience with the SE and I haven’t ever owned a 7 or an 8. My mum owned a 7 and the battery on that was god-awful and I’ve had a much better experience with my SE than she did.

First of all: some context.

Again, a friendly reminder my last phone was a four year old SE. It was a 64GB one as well, so you know I’m being legit (they stopped selling the 64GB (in the UK at least) about a year after the phone’s initial release).

So the battery on my old phone was absolutely fine. At first. As time went on and the phone got older, it did, unfortunately, begin to struggle.

As a reference, a few months before I replaced it (given lockdown doesn’t give the most accurate overview of what it was like to use on a day-to-day basis), it wouldn’t make it through a day at school without dying at least once, sometimes twice.

I had to carry a portable charger with me everywhere I went.

I left my house when it was on 100% and, by the time I got to school after an hour on the bus, it would be on 60-70% on a good day.

Letting your battery die everyday is really not good for it but, try as I might, I couldn’t stop it from happening.

I tell you this to let you know that my criteria for a good battery is literally just “lasts me through the day”.

I’ve had my new phone for about three days now and it hasn’t died on me once.

I played games on it in bright sunlight with the phone on full brightness for several hours straight yesterday and yet it still lasted me through the day and then some. After being off charge for 11 hours, it just about hit 20% before I put it on charge.

Today, I was on social media: tumblr, instagram, youtube, for the majority of today. Both tumblr and instagram had an uncanny ability to completely decimate the battery life of my old phone. They could reduce it from 50% to 40% after 5 minutes. But, again, no problemo for my new phone.

It got to about 50% today before I put it back on charge to go have dinner.

I’d say that lasts through the day quite nicely.

Especially given it’s getting a lot more use than it would normally because a) I’m stuck inside with nothing to do and b) shiny new phone!!!

But I digress.

So, Why Does The SE Exist?

I’m gonna be real. I don’t think the iPhone SE (2020) is trying to be anything fancy. It’s not trying to be the next iPhone 11, it’s not trying to replace the XR. If anything, it’s replacing the 8.

I don’t think the SE is a bad phone. It does everything it says it does and it does it well.

I think the YouTube reviewers have it slightly wrong. I don’t think they should be comparing the SE to the 11 or the XR because, realistically, the people who own those phones aren’t gonna be buying the SE for themselves.

The people who are gonna be buying the SE are the people who have the 5s or the old SE or the 6s or even maybe the 7. (I’m not sure how noticeable the jump would be from 8 to SE, given they have very similar specs).

They’re the kind of people who want a new phone but don’t have the money to go for the more expensive XR or 11 range.

Or maybe they don’t want a giant phone because idk bout you but I have small hands and the XR is both large and heavy and that’s not practical. Plus, the XR with women’s jeans? Really? Not happening.

So, while I understand why reviewers are comparing the SE to the 11s or the XR—because the SE has the internals of those two and is closer to them in terms of release date—I don’t think it’s actually realistic.

TL;DR

YouTube reviewers are comparing the SE to the recent phones when they should be comparing it to the older ones, which is the more likely transition. The iPhone SE has a lot more going for it than people say and I really like it.

[lgbt-aesthetics]

@all demiromantics, demisexuals, and all other demi-s!

As you may or may not know, the current demi- flags make some people uncomfortable, so I am working on a re-design for it! And I need your help!

I am aspec, but not specifically demi-, so I don’t personally have much say on what the demi- flag should be. I’m working with my sister (she’s demiro and demiace) but I’d like more input from the community!

If you’re demi-, please feel free to share your opinion and send me your own designs for the flag! If you’re aspec, feel free to share your opinion, but please do not try to design a flag, it is not our place to. And if you’re not aspec, please share this post so we can get as many demi- people’s opinions as we can!

After talking with my sister and @crimsxnflxwerz (who designed these demisexual flags, which I then edited into demiromantic colors), we think that the flag should:

Keep the original colors

Have some sort of distinguishing feature, as the colors are very similar to other aspec flags

Not have any triangles on it (I'll explain why a bit later if you don’t already know)

have horizontal stripes

and be unique in some way!

under the read more is a list of proposed flags (and why they aren’t the best choice), and why it needs to be redesigned at all!

Proposed flags:

@crimsxnflxwerz’s flags:

[ID: a flag with four vertical stripes: black, purple, white, and grey. in the white stripe there is a black diamond]

This flag is really cool looking! The diamond represents “loyalty and meaningful living”. But the vertical stripes go against nearly every other pride flag, so it doesn’t really “fit” with them.

[ID: a flag divided in half by a black triangle reaching from the top left corner to the bottom right corner. on the side not covered, there are three horizontal stripes: white, purple, and grey]

This one has the triangle issue, and if it were to be removed the flag wouldn’t be very recognizable. 

Re-colors:

[ID: the demi- flag but re-colored so that the triangle is white, and the stripes are grey, black, and purple.]

this flag also has the triangle, though it is a bit better because it’s not black, but the design is too close to the original to be separated from it.

[ID: the demi- flag but re-colored so that the triangle is purple, and the stripes are black, grey, and purple.]

this one has the same problems as the last.

circle-based flags:

[ID: a flag with three horizontal stripes: grey, purple, and white. the purple stripe is smaller than the other two. in the center of the flag there is a solid black circle.]

the creator of this one calls it the “eclipsed sun version“. the Black circle represents a solar eclipse, which in turn represents the rare instances of demi- people feeling attraction. I really like the thought that was put into this one, but the big black circle seems a bit cumbersome to me. 

[ID: a flag with three horizontal stripes: white, purple, and grey. the purple stripe is smaller than the other two. in the center of the flag there is a black ring.]

the creator of this flag has their profile on private, unfortunately. So I can’t link directly to the flag, or read what their thought behind it was. I *assume* that the black ring is a reference to how asexual people wear black rings on the middle finger of their right hand. This is a good idea but while demisexuality and asexuality are relate they are not the same thing.

Why does the flag even need to be redesigned?

Because of the black triangle used in it. The black triangle as a symbol originated in n*zi Germany. It was used to mark people they considered “asocial”. That on it’s own is enough to need a redesign, but just to further explain why it specifically should not be used in the demi- flag: it was used to mark lesbians and non-conforming women during the h*locaust. It is hugely inappropriate for demi- people to reclaim a symbol that was not used against them. Let me be clear: I am NOT saying that this was the idea behind the original design. It is just an unfortunate coincidence. I am neither Jewish or a lesbian, but *personally* I don’t think anyone who isn’t a Jewish queer woman should re-claim this symbol. 

EDIT: I was informed by @rosa-buachaille that this symbol was also used against disabled people! I won’t get into the history of that because as much as I support intersectionality this post is already far too long. So to put it simply: there are multiple groups who have the right to reclaim this symbol, and they alone should have pride symbols that involve it. 

[lies]

Oy. Tumblr.

@echojar, I started answering your ask about what I’m using for bird photography, saved it as a draft, and now Tumblr has seen fit to send it... somewhere. Not sure where. Anyway, it’s gone.

So this is your response, unfortunately no longer including your actual ask. After a cut to spare dashboards b/c tl;dr.

Back in September 2018 I bought a camera to use for birdwatching. It was a Panasonic Lumix DC-FZ80 (link is to Amazon, which is where I bought it). It looks like this:

It’s a “bridge” camera, in the sense that it’s meant to fill the market niche between camera phones (which have mostly replaced compact digital cameras) and high-end DSLRs with detachable lenses, which take better pictures but are also much more expensive.

The FZ80 cost just under $300. I also bought a faster, larger-capacity memory card ($14), and an extra battery with an external charger ($24). I’m very happy with all of them.

The FZ80 has a good reputation among birdwatchers; I’ve run into several other local obsessives who use one. Among bridge cameras it’s optimized for telephoto work, with a zoom lens that goes to the equivalent of about 60X and image stabilization that does a decent job of keeping things steady even though I’m taking pictures handheld.

These days when I go birdwatching I always bring binoculars, phone (for eBird and field guide apps), and the camera. It’s light enough that I don’t mind bringing it along all the time. I usually keep it in a fanny pack, but when I’m in-progress on picture-taking I’ll hang it from my neck and lace it through the right side of the binoculars’ shoulder harness, such that the camera ends up hanging next to the binoculars but (mostly) doesn’t bump into them, and I can raise either one as needed. It looks super goofy, but I crossed that bridge a while ago and these days I just tell myself to try not to think about it.

I carry the spotting scope and tripod less frequently now that I have the camera. The camera isn’t a complete replacement for the spotting scope; the hierarchy of how well I can see details on a distant bird probably goes like this, from low to high:

naked eye

camera, zoomed, looking through the viewfinder (I almost never take pictures looking at the camera’s larger LCD screen)

binoculars

camera, zoomed, reviewing a photo on the LCD screen after taking it

looking through the spotting scope

camera, zoomed, looking at the photo on my computer screen at home

But the spotting scope with tripod is a lot heavier and more cumbersome. I don’t mind carrying it so much, but I really dislike the extra lag time it adds when I see a bird and want to look at it through binoculars, but I can’t get on the bird quickly because I have to set the spotting scope down first. So these days I bring the spotting scope for things like wetlands, sea watches, or stationary hawk watches, but otherwise I leave it at home. If I see a distant bird that’s too small to identify in the binoculars I can take a quick photo and check it out on the back of the camera.

(Oh, and I also bring the spotting scope when I’m docenting or leading a bird walk, because I can point the scope at a bird and let people take turns looking through it.)

But back to the camera. I’m not very experienced (at all) at photography, so there's been a steep learning curve. I’ve ended up with the following approaches that I use most of the time:

If I’m shooting in poor light, or trying to get as pretty a shot as I can, or just generally futzing around I’ll usually shoot in “P” (Program) mode where the camera picks the shutter speed and ISO setting.

If I’m trying to shoot birds in flight (like at a hawk watch), or just generally when I’m being more serious, I’ll switch to S (”Shutter Speed”) mode and set the speed to to around 1/800, or sometimes faster, because I find that I have better odds of getting a sharp, identifiable image if I crank up the speed, even though that tends to give me higher ISO settings and correspondingly noisier/grainier images.

There’s been a lot of trial and error involved. For example, in the first week I had the camera I took this photo of a Blackpoll Warbler (PJH represent):

I shot that in S mode with the speed set to 1/500, because I figured that’s what I’d need to do to freeze the motion of a fast-moving warbler. Helpful birder and experienced photographer Dika, though, pointed out to me that in the early-morning light I was shooting in, that caused the camera to crank the ISO up to 3200, resulting in a grainy image. If I’d just shot in P mode I would have had a slower shutter speed, but it turns out that probably would have been fine for freezing motion and I would have benefited from the lower ISO setting.

In good light (e.g., a sunny day with the sun behind me and the bird well-illuminated) that’s pretty much all I worry about. But usually the light is poor, or the bird is backlit or in shadow, or something else is making things difficult. If I were just taking pretty pictures I’d write those situations off. But since I’m more interested in documenting what I’m seeing I’ll often try to make those situations work by setting the f-stop up or down to get the exposure on the bird as good as I can. Again, a lot of trial and error. I can’t imagine what it was like to try to do this back in the day when each shot wasn’t essentially free and you couldn’t see the result right away.

Oh: speaking of: I almost always shoot in “burst” mode, where I hold the shutter button down and just go snap-snap-snap-snap-snap as fast as the camera can write to the card. Later I throw away 99% of the shots for the few where the bird is looking the right way and the light is glinting on its eyeball just right and all that. With the 32G replacement memory card I bought I can store several thousand pictures; there’s only been a few times when I’ve been out so long that I’ve needed to take a break to purge rejects to make more room.

And focus. More than any other technical aspect of getting the shot, I worry about focus. Especially in the early days I had a lot of otherwise-decent shots that were fuzzy. Grr.

For birds in foliage or on the ground I use the autofocus mode where the AF sensor is just a tiny little box in the center of the screen, then do my best to keep that dot on the bird’s eye. Or, if the bird is big and/or close such that it fills a lot of the frame and I want to actually compose the shot as I’m shooting it rather than later while cropping, I’ll use the separate button on the camera back that lets me set and lock the focus while I’ve got the little AF spot on the bird’s eye, then hold the focus while I pan to whatever I want the actual shot to look like before shooting.

For birds in flight, like at a hawk watch, I can’t keep that little AF spot on the bird, so I switch to the mode where the AF area is a big diamond shape that takes up about half the field of view. When I see the bird in the air I’ll usually go first to binoculars to try to ID it, and then switch to the camera. I’ll point the lens in the general direction of the bird with just a moderate amount of zoom, then gradually zoom in trying to pick out the bird in the viewfinder as I magnify. Hopefully I eventually pick up the bird, then do my best to keep the bird centered, or at least in the frame somewhere, as I crank up the zoom all the way and start shooting. In the early days I’d practice on anything (clouds, airplanes, crows, red-tails); now I’ve got the technique down to where I can save it for when I see something I really want to get a shot of.

One technique that’s definitely helped is learning to adjust the camera controls without looking. When I’ve only got a second or two to try to get an identifiable shot I really don’t want to have to look at the camera.

My usual workflow when I get home is to sit down with the camera in my lap and go through the whole set, punching the button to mark the good ones as “Favorites”. Then I delete all except for those favorites and transfer them to my computer. After that I wipe the rest of the photos from the camera, swap out the battery and put the depleted one in the charger, and I’m ready to take more photos.

On the computer I’ll go through the photos and pick the best one of each bird (or multiple photos for a tricky ID or a rarity), and upload them to eBird. It’s been super-helpful for learning; there’s nothing like posting a misidentified bird to eBird with an accompanying photo to get a lesson not only on birds, but also on cognitive bias and hubris.

I take fewer shots these days than I did when I first got the camera, but I still take a lot.

Whew. Nothing like a brain dump of something I’ve been obsessing about to generate a shocking amount of verbal spew.