#it’s been a good year to be dumpster raccoons with you all :)

[lady-stormbraver]

I posted 2,012 times in 2022

That's 1,044 more posts than 2021!

53 posts created (3%)

1,959 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kyber-hearts

@brown-little-robin

@lovesodeepandwideandwell

@starcrier

@swinging-stars-from-satellites

I tagged 1,364 of my posts in 2022

Only 32% of my posts had no tags

#in a galaxy far far away - 88 posts

#looking for lovely - 73 posts

#batfam - 60 posts

#kenobi spoilers - 52 posts

#snadger.gif - 42 posts

#jason todd - 41 posts

#encanto - 35 posts

#oc: violetta - 34 posts

#humans - 27 posts

#kenobi - 24 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#deeply kind characters are compelling to me and i think it's because it's so hard and so antethical to what much of the world calls strength

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

okay mutuals, y’all have convinced me: I’m watching Free Guy. will update!

21 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

#4

nobody asked for this, but y’all should know that Sleeping At Last - Instrumentals is an absolutely lovely study vibes Spotify playlist. it’s gotten me through many a coffee shop homework and midnight study session over the years.

plus— the quietly hopeful and ethereal vibes of all sleeping at last songs. so calming and peaceful. 10/10 would recommend for all your light, dark, or light-in-the-dark academia needs.

68 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

#3

May I,,, offer you another chapter in these trying times?

A rough summary:

Bruno: Hola Casita :)

Casita: *smacks him upside the head with a tile*

72 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

#2

if you are in education, therapeutic services, or any form of childcare...

please,

please,

please

don’t give up on a child just because their challenging behaviors are scary and draining.

don’t give up on a child just because it seems like they’re not communicating with you.

don’t give up on a child just because they have greater (or different) needs than the other kids.

don’t give up on a child just because the work is hard.

and for the love of all that is good, don’t give up on the child on their FIRST DAY in a brand new environment with communication barriers.

no child is unreachable! no child is incapable!

but you have to give them TIME to become accustomed to New Things and New People, and you have to give them TIME to learn and grow in the areas you see needs-- especially if they don’t understand how to communicate with you yet, oh my gosh.

look, i get it. i really do. i know it’s hard. i know it’s exhausting. i know you’re crawling towards the weekend and feeling defeated.

but if this child was your child, wouldn’t you want someone to be in their corner?

wouldn’t you want someone to, at the very least, give them a fighting chance?

if you care about children, and i believe you do, then you have to be willing to do the hard work. you have to be willing to try all the resources you’ve got before throwing in the towel. you just HAVE to.

yes, the work is hard. yes, the days are long. but it is worth it.

your words and choices now will impact so much of how they see themselves in the future.

please, please be careful with these precious souls.

107 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

hey!!

i don’t know who needs to hear this, but being gentle with yourself is not admitting defeat!!

choosing to:

1.) take a step back from doing all the things while running yourself ragged and

2.) focus instead on doing fewer things in a healthier manner

…is actually really rad and wise of you!!!

it is perfectly okay to take your time!!

you haven’t failed. and you don’t have to be perfect. nobody is holding you to this standard but you, dear one.

you are free to just breathe, and be, and grow at your own pace.

and we’ll make it. i promise. 🤍

136 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[phecdasolar]

Friendly reminder that if you see something bad or stressful on the internet you can ignore it. If you see something bad that’s trending you don’t have to click on it.

Your mental health comes first. This is going out specifically and especially to all my fellow hyper-empathetic people out there. If you know that going down a rabbit hole of information on a specific horrible topic is going to make you depressed or feel like crap then you don’t have to interact with that. (Edit: I have been informed that this is called “doomscrolling.” To repeat what I was told: Doomscrolling is not activism. It doesn’t end up helping anybody and it only hurts you.)

In this day and age where we have access to the internet and information about soooooo many different horrible things it can be so easy to get sucked in to all of it. We have wars, we have constant natural disasters (there’s a massive fire close to where I live right now, it’s barely contained, and is rivaling the fire we had a few years ago that destroyed an entire town. It’s terrifying), we have beloved creators being accused and revealed to have done horrible things (the fact that I can say this and multiple names immediately pop into my head sickens me).

The point is, take a break. Get off the internet. Breathe. Go for a walk. Maybe look at videos of cute baby animals, or compilations of “restore your faith in humanity.” Go read a book. Eat something you like. Take a nap. Drink some water. Take a shower. If you’re religious, pray about it. Take care of yourself and don’t allow yourself to drown in the dread.

And for the people who might come at me for this saying “how dare you not care about the problems going on or the pain other people are in!” That’s the problem. It’s not that I don’t care, the problem is that I care too much. Please refer back to the hyper-empathetic part of this message. I am a sympathetic crier. I will allow myself to get so sucked in to an issue and I will end up feeling terrible about it. I won’t want to leave my bed, I feel like crying and throwing up and there is an everlasting pit in my stomach the size of Alaska. I am no help to anyone in a state like that, and neither is anyone else. I will say it again, take care of yourself and your mental health first.

There’s a reason on planes they tell you to put your own oxygen mask on first before helping others.

But that’s not to say you have to ignore it completely! Take a step back, take a break, and then engage when and only when you feel like you’re at the mental/emotional/psychological capacity to do so.

When coming back a tip I have is pick one specific issue, and focus on that. Only one. Don’t overwhelm yourself. If you can, find a friend or someone you know is reliable and levelheaded and talk to them about it. Multiple perspectives can help a lot, plus you feel less alone when tackling a difficult situation.

It’s important when you’re gathering information on the issue that you know your sources are reliable, and you’re doing your own research. “Okay, multiple people on Tumblr are screaming about something but they’re saying different things about what’s going on.” Tumblr is not a reliable or credible source I am sorry besties. We are a bunch of dumpster gremlin raccoons given access to a platform to scream out our personal thoughts and opinions. Please don’t take them as solid immediate truth.

I have more I could say on this probably but it’s 1 am and I am losing my thought coherency. Have a good night/day and take care of yourselves <3

[kopfkino-o]

okay modern acotar au but the setting is a shitty local bar and I might or might not have been tipsy when I wrote this.

Rhys inherited this crusty bar from his business tycoon father and, despite being utterly incapable of maintaining a well respectable establishment, he lowkey loves being able to boss the staff around and enjoys the all the “free” booze whenever he wants. No he does not file taxes. But he has given his wife, Feyre, creative reign over the place and she painted the walls herself, which was definitely a choice, but the patrons don’t really seem to mind the various eyeballs staring down at them so it sort of works for the place.

Cassian works security with Jurian but most nights he is the one who ends up starting something and it lowkey causes a lot of insurance liabilities but Rhys isn't really worried about all that. Cas also can’t stop sniffing after veteran bartender, Nesta, who will definitely throw your ass out if you so much as look at her wrong. The tension between them is causing a lot of “bad vibes” for the bar’s regulars, Lucien and Eris, who only come to this shithole establishment to get away from their dad (he’s sleeping on their couch because their mom left him for another man). Tamlin always wants to hangout, especially on open mic nights, but he doesn’t have a car and Eris refuses to drive a few extra minutes to pick him up because he doesn't want "unnecessary mileage" on his 2008 beat to shit BWM.

Elain works the front well because she’s the only one who can use the bar's new POS system and Mor waits tables because she’s a customer favorite (she's comps drinks for literally everyone). But there’s really no need for three bartenders on every shift (the bar gets like five customers, max) and Nesta definitely has that shit handled, so most nights Mor and Elain just sit out back near the dumpsters drinking wine coolers and gossiping. They occasionally upload TikTok videos with Gwyn and Emerie, two waitresses who work at the restaurant next door, but Rhys and Feyre let it slide because it’s good publicity.

Vassa, Tarquin, and Helion occasionally meet up at the bar after work (they work at the pr firm across the street) but only because the drinks are cheap and their asshole boss, Amarantha, thinks the establishment is "below her", so they don't feel obligated to invite her along. Helion has slept with like half the staff, and has some weird thing going on with one of the regular's mom, but he always tips well and at least he's consistent. Once, Tarquin let Cassian borrow his boat so he could take Nesta on a date, but he crashed it into a dock when he was trying to park and it ended up being this whole thing. Amren, the lawyer Feyre hired, has sorta advised the staff to refrain from talking about all that though.

Azriel, the bar manager, smokes cigarettes in the old walk-in cooler (Feyre painted it one night during a staff party) between shifts and wonders how the fuck he ended up being in charge of keeping this trainwreck running. He would have quit the job five years ago but he needs the money and Rhys at least offers half decent health insurance. The bar occasionally gets letters from Beron, the local health inspector who is totally on Rhysand’s case, but Az just throws them away in the raccoon infested dumpster outback (the girls swear they haven’t been feeding them) and yearns for the day this whole shitshow finally gets shut down.

Oh, the baby? Yeah he handles accounting and the shadow monster in the basement is in charge of the social media. don't ask.

[multiversemaker169]

Inside out: More incorrect quotes.

1.Sadness: We need a distraction.

Anger: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Envy, whispering: My time has come.

2.Joy: Have you eaten today?

Anxiety: ...I had a Monster—

Joy: Have you drank any water?

Anxiety: ...I had a Monster—

3.Sadness: Sorry I’m late, everyone! I broke down on the way.

Embarrassment: Oh no! Is your car okay?

Sadness: …what car?

4.Anger: Sadness, wake up!

Sadness, half asleep: Five more minutes…

Anger: You’ve been in a coma for two years!

Sadness: …

Sadness: Okay, two more minutes…

5.Anger: Did you know spiders can hold 8 guns at once?

Fear: How does it WALK??

Anger:

Anger: Did you know spiders can hold 7 guns at once?

6.Envy: I am darkness. I am an power. I am your worst nightmare. I could kill a man in more ways than you can imagine. I am the night. I am fury, I am a weapon, I am-

Sadness: A doll.

Ennui: A cinnamon roll.

Anxiety: A sweetheart.

Envy:

Envy: ...stop it.

7.Anxiety: You can't wake up if you never got to sleep.

8.Anger: I called you like ten times! Why didn’t you pick up?

Joy: *remembers dancing to the ringtone*

Joy: I didn’t hear it.

9.Fear: Wait. Where's Anxiety? She loves Dungeons and Dragons.

Sadness: I thought you invited her.

Anger: Uh, I thought Disgust invited her.

Disgust: I thought Ennui invited her.

Ennui: I never invited her.

10.Joy, learning how to drive: What happens if I press the gas and the brake at the same time?

Ennui: The car takes a screenshot.

Anger: For the last time, get the fuck out!

11.Sadness: I have a bad feeling about this...

Envy: What do you mean?

Sadness: Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if you're going to get into trouble?

Envy: No?

Disgust: That actually explains so much.

12.Sadness: Can I have some?

Joy, mouth full of cheesecake: It's really spicy, you wouldn't like it.

13.Disgust: I love being right. It’s one of my favorite personality traits.

14.Anger: I will send my army to attack!

Anger: *releases a dumpster of raccoons*

15.Anxiety, running: Slow down, Joy, I can’t ketchup!

Joy, not slowing down: You’ll just have to use all the strength you can mustard.

16.*The Squad is on a hike*

Joy: It’s beautiful out here.

Sadness: And quiet.

Disgust: Too quiet.

Fear: Did we lose someone?

*cut to Anger with a bear in a headlock*

17.Fear: You shouldn't be using a straw.

Joy: I know, I know, it's bad for the environment and stuff.

Fear: Yeah, but I mean... it's a weird way to eat spaghetti.

18.Embarrassment: Any advice before Anger and I fight?

Ennui: Don’t wet yourself in public.

Embarrassment: Not the kind of advice I was looking for!

19.Anger: *mixing different alcoholic beverages together*

Anxiety: What are you making?

Anger: A mistake.

20.Anger: God has let me live another day, and I'm going to make it everyone's problem!

[squalodinoappreciationsquad]

And following up with this brainrot, here's a ficlet, because I have the patience of a raccoon in a dumpster.

Squalo is at Yamamoto's father's restaurant.

Not because he particularly wants it, but he has to be there by order of whatever decree the Vongola family has issued; Dino is there too, there is the entirety of the squad.

He is just walking around, the restaurant is full of photos, photos of the dishes, family photos, etc.

And in one specific corner he finds a photo he is not expecting.

The photo portrays three people; one is definitely Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, albeit younger, he does not know the elderly man sitting on the chair with dignity like an old master, but he surely recognizes the third person.

He feels the phantom pain where his hand was cut off way more sharply than usual, he feels as if they were fresh the smell of the blood, the fear, the anger and most of all the condescending look of that man.

He knows the third person.

"That was my old friend Tyr, Squalo." Tsuyoshi's stern voice nearly makes him jump. "He was my friend until he was not anymore. Our paths separated once our old master passed away, years ago."

And Squalo would like to yell, and scream, but instead he is just frozen, whilst the others keep up with their shenanigans.

Tsuyoshi stands next to Squalo, glancing at the photo. Finally Squalo says something. "Vooi, what do you mean?"

The old man sighs. "Tyr and I trained under the same master. We were taught the Shigure Souen Ryuu and we both treasured it. It appears that we both found worthy disciples."

"I. I tried to-"

"I know. And you have paid for it more than enough. Takeshi sees you as a senpai, an older brother. You also have taught him well."

And Squalo furrows his brow, uncertain as to what to say next. And then he talks. "Why did you stop being a swordsman?"

Tsuyoshi makes a vague gesture. "Takeshi happened."

"I see."

"Tyr was a far more ambitious man, but he was still my brother in arms."

And Squalo can't help himself, he has to ask. "Why did you say that he was your friend until he wasn't anymore?"

It's now Tsuyoshi who furrows his brows. "We had an argument after our master passed away. He asked me to follow him and I refused. We had different priorities, but we both never resented each other."

"Does the brat know about him?"

Tsuyoshi chuckles. "Only the good parts. I will tell him the rest once he is an adult."

Squalo looks intently at the photo, he still feels pain. Tsuyoshi turns to the younger man and shakes his head. "By the time you met Tyr he probably had been ruined and warped by that world. He is gone now and all I can do for the disciple of my former brother in arms is being there. If roles were reversed, Tyr would have done the same."

And Squalo can't help but look at the old man in front of him and think.

He definitely has a newfound respect.

Squalo does not have the words, and yet somehow he is grateful. Tsuyoshi turns back towards the chaos happening behind them. "Should you need to turn to a master, I will do my best in Tyr's stead."

With that, Squalo is left alone in front of that photo and once he looks at it again the phantom pain is somehow gone.

Maybe he is starting to heal a little bit, maybe that order was not a waste of time.

But now he has something to honor, from a swordsman to another swordsman, and that is enough for him.

[sonicasura]

1/2

I need to brush up on japanese history and what nots. Given its needed for my Bloodline Au. But that is good to know.

I don't get why people don't like first Pacific Rim so much. Sure it has its flaws like all moives. And granted I was far more focused on the fighting bits then other parts of the moive. Giant robots vs gaint kaiju fights tend to be a far more attention attractive the other parts after all. But I don't find the moive so bad as some people say.

And as you've said, it is ironic that it touches on a lot more concept about kaijus than the Monstervers. With the latter bascially being the thing that started kaijus in the first place. As far as I know anyways. I'm not really that well versed in either films so what do I really know?

Anyways and anyhows.

Yeah eating gross things is one of the bad habits Proto has. It took Hina some years to get used to her husbands habit of eating raw organs and other interesting bits he will here and there when out and hunting. To him they are absolute a treat. Not so much for Hina.

He also occasinally eats metal pieces too. Though more for actuall basic sustenance than anything else. He needs quite a bit more iron and various other metals than humans would ever need. Sure the pills and various tablets he's tried helps but sometimes it just better to get yourself some scrap metal and eat that instead. Or go digging around the moutains to find what you need. A nice little thing Proto found out as he explored the moutains around his and Hina's new home.

Luckly for both his daughter and grandson, they don't need to do any of that to properly sustain their daily vitamins and minerals. Though both do need to eat a lot more tablest and pills than your average human would.

It was especially difficult when Proto would actually search the trash cans for the bits too. He gave raccoons a run for their money on that. Lucky for the woman, Proto eventually managed to at least crub that part of his habit pretty darn well.

He also have a habit of pretty much becoming a bloodhound when he smell something interesting, which was one of the reasons why he searched the trash cans at times. His sense of smell is far stronger than most, and thanks to that he has had some interesting/awkward confrontations thanks to sticking his nose in places he shouldn't.

The less said about the time he sniffed out a illegal drug den, the less Proto has to worry about both his wife and daughter taking out both the frying pan and rolling pin. And maybe the snow shovle too if both woman are mad enough.

And then theres his strange habit of being awake whenever the full moon is out. Proto has more then once been joked about being a werewolf or some other creature that stay awake at night. But this habit saddly stem from his time at his creators side. Full moon was the only time Proto found any sort of break or peace as side from what little sleep he got or when he past out. As No 9 would be strangly inactive whenever it was out. Thuse Proto would make a habit of sorts to stay awake whenever this happened and use the precious few hours he had to both plan and actually have some form of fun.

Said habit never disappered, and Hina has helped him numerous times find various hobbies he could do whenever the moon was out and the rest of his family was still sleeping.

LMAO

Proto accidentally sniffing out a drug sorta reminds of those stories where animals like goats and rabbits have a tendency to find those places with the occasional munching on said illegal goods. Also he probably fought a few raccoons while dumpster diving because they are the type to fight god for a good. I used to have a few trash pandas visit my house late at night with a very feisty big one called Wario being the usual visitor.

Proto probably looked up Werecreatures after the first full moon joke and late night reading became a hobby of sorts. I see the extra protectiveness around winter since it's quite the difficult season for most species. A good chunk of creatures prefer to hibernate and wait out the cold than look for very scarce resources or safety.

[jazzforthecaptain]

20 Fanfic Questions

Thanks to @merfilly for the tag!

How many works do you have on AO3?

126

What’s your total AO3 words count?

577,228

What fandoms do you write for?

Superwood (Supernatural/Torchwood crossover) is my biggest, followed by Supernatural, the Fast & Furious franchise, and Anne of Green Gables.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Down in Mexico (The Fast & The Furious)

Shine the Hood (The Fast & The Furious)

Rilla Blythe's Wedding: A Not Entirely Comprehensive Account (Anne of Green Gables)

Field Work (Supernatural)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I love responding to comments. I don't get to it as often as I used to, but I really enjoy making a pot of tea and sitting down with my laptop to answer everything in my inbox. If you send me love, you will (eventually) get love back.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ugh, Luminaria for sure, which I'm not linking because of some of the themes - you'll need to look that one up on your own and read ALL of the tags before proceeding. I didn't realize how hard of a time I'd have writing that one until I was in the middle of it, although I suppose I should have known considering I was finally going to touch the one hot point of Jack's sad history that I'd been avoiding. I think it was the first time I've ever written Ianto, really written him, and fuck, the PAIN.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

As I'm going through my fics, like, fuck, do I write actual happy endings? Considering the characters I write, it's not super surprising. How about Adventures in Holiday Baking? Everyone's happy and they save the dragons with German pastries? Field Work ends pretty okay?

Do you get hate on fics?

Not really. I think that's the blessing of existing in semi-anonymity. I have some fics that have racked up some surprising kudos, but I write for niche ships and very dead fandoms. I get the occasional weird comment, but nothing I'd call hate.

Do you write smut. If so what kind?

Yes. I have a hard time writing explicit smut because several of the characters I write frequently really balk at using the typical jargon in their narratives, and I cannot write flowery purple prose anymore. It's easier to write smut from some characters' viewpoints than others. I've written mild kink and I enjoy writing characters in kinky scenes, but I don't think I'm very good at it.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Aha. Ahaha. Ahahahahaha. *sob*

Angels in the Architecture. I took my most dearly beloved fandoms and I made a jello salad with them.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not really? I mean-- *gestures over shoulder at the restaurant alley dumpster full of raccoons* --who wants this?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've had some offers, which I accepted, but I have no idea if they were translated or not.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes! Several times! I've gotten a little more withdrawn about collabs in my old age, but I've enjoyed the fics I've written with partners (and the Legendary One still sitting unfinished in my drive).

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Look at my icon. You see my icon? It's Them. They haunt me. They will not leave me alone. Writing this ship is a lonely, lonely existence. Send help.

What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I am the kind of author who abandons a fic for almost a decade and then finishes it in six months, so I'll never say never. Indecent Rhythm certainly haunts me. The problem with that fic is I feel like I'm too old, jaded and scarred to finish it with the optimism with which I started it. I have a feeling there are people now who read that when they were teenagers who have kids now, and have had their own imagined endings to it for years, and so maybe I should just let them be and have the endings that they wanted rather than whatever I could come up with.

What are your writing strengths?

Settings. I dig into settings and I love including local color. Some of the memorable details from fics (Down in Mexico specifically comes to mind) come from me doing a street view tour of a neighborhood, wandering around to see what a city I've never visited looks like from the sidewalk.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting in general. I have scenes, sometimes loose what-ifs. Bringing a story from idea to satisfying finish is paralyzing and 90% of the reason I don't finish a fic. I enjoying writing. The planning is a bitch of a dissatisfactory situation.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

If I have a good reason for it, I'll do it, but there are usually better ways to go about including other languages in fic. I've been learning Italian, however, and I've been itching to try writing drabbles in Italian.

First fandom you wrote for?

The Firebringer Trilogy, by Meredith Ann Pierce.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

It used to be Life Support, which is one of the fics I reread periodically and just kind of gape at myself because I forget I can write like that. But it's been upstaged by Out of the Empty, because that fic allowed me to incorporate all of the loopholes we got in the final season of Supernatural to scoop Castiel entirely out of the canonverse, to write Empty!Meg, and to write lovers meeting in dreams (more or less) before they meet in person, which is a favorite romance trope of mine. I worked a lot of my rage at the series out in that fic, and it's one of the few fics I can say I'm completely happy with.

Tagging: @naryrising @ladylilithprime @rodiniaorzetalthepenquin @awabubbles @merindab @avalonsilver

[driftingvoid-155]

Can you explain me silly vampire au,please

It’s an AU me and @connectionterminated13 have been working on and @raccoon-in-a-dumpster has also made some fanart for. It’s been going on for a while but I collected the links to what I think should be all the posts relating to the AU down below:

Main posts:

Side posts:

Fanart:

I think this should be all :)

[deadboyswalking]

We can argue all day and night about what Dabi's actual role in the League is but openly claiming that Spinner is actually Shigaraki's second-in-command is not canonically supported.

1. The League is not particularly organized beyond a leader and his followers. If anybody was Shigaraki's second for the majority of the manga, it was Kurogiri. After he left, decisions were made by Shigaraki alone with everyone's input as needed.

2. Dabi was explicitly named as the captain of the Vanguard Action Squad. Yes, it was in early manga but it's still a canon fact that he was in charge when Shigaraki wasn't around at some point. He is the only League member besides Shigaraki himself who is trusted to command the Noumu.

3. "But Dabi's always gone!" He is trusted to act as an independent agent. Dealing with Hawks, the High-End Fight, "recruiting," etc. He still always returns the minute they need him, but Shigaraki understands and accepts that he needs to act freely too. Dabi can and will act without direct orders and Shigaraki accepts this.

4. "But Spinner is the League liason to the PLF!" There are a couple of possible reasons for this. One, Dabi is a persistently noxious, rude asshole even to his allies and is not the guy you want in your business deals. The LOV-MLA merger is essentially a business deal and the other guys put great stock into polite behavior, so Dabi would not be a good fit. Spinner was hikikomori, yes, he seems to have a basic grasp on how to behave in polite Japanese society without deliberately pissing people off (Dabi behaves like a dumpster raccoon). Two, Spinner is in charge of the support squad, so coordinating with others is a constant necessity (Dabi is on charge of guerilla warfare and things work differently). Three, Dabi is fucking busy with the Hawks situation. Finally, Spinner's weaker Quirk shows a false submission to the Quirk-focused MLA, so he'll be underestimated and likely not as closely monitored as Dabi would have been.

I'm not saying either of them were explicitly Shigaraki's second-in-command during the PLF arc (tbh, the LOV just seems to hang out and do whatever), but claiming it was inherently Spinner rather than Dabi is inaccurate.

5. "But AFO treats Spinner like Shigaraki's second!" Who are you gonna believe, the 200 year old groomer or your lying-ass eyes? He also only gave Spinner the extra Quirk AFTER Dabi told him to fuck off.

6. "But Spinner is constantly with Shigaraki during and after the PLF war!" He obsessively idolizes Shigaraki to a frankly unhealthy level, the same as he did with Stain. This total idolization and lack of independent agency outside of the object of his devotion makes him both deeply loyal and easy to exploit. None of this makes him Shigaraki's second-in-command.

[hpnotfound]

ok so i wrote this and came up with a better plot but i dont wanna delete it all so im posting it anyways but there will not be any more

maybe ill get around to rewriting it someday :o anyway enjoy Papa Hueso gaining four extra children

-------

Hueso was putting his tiny son’s blanket over his sleeping form as he heard the telltale clanging sounds of something hitting the bottom of his dumpster.

“Ay, dios, malditos mapaches!” He cursed under his breath.

Seems like he would have to spend another evening out there chasing away the furry little bastards.  What a joy.

Softly stroking Juniors tiny head one last time, Hueso went to grab his cloaking brooch and the trusty lead pipe he swiped from one of the many construction sites around New York, and made for the magic alleyway exit.

It had been a real lucky find, this literal hole in the wall. A little enchantment and his Pizzeria was up and running. Good thing he still had had a few favors left to cash in…

Out in the streets, the cold November winds whipped around the trash and leaves. He could feel the cold down to the marrow of his bones. No wonder the raccoons were trying to find shelter in a dumpster, but he couldn’t have them build a colony there. It happened once a few years ago and he still regrets not stepping in sooner. Won’t be making that mistake again.

Hueso approached the open lid cautiously. The little beasts were fast and prone to biting, so he’d just have to be faster.

With a swift grab he had one of them by the scruff.

Only it was not a raccoon.

What struggled in his grip was a small green and scaly creature in and oversized red hockey sweater and a blue headband. The red markings on its face accentuated the big, dark –tired terrified desperate- eyes of what was obviously a hatchling of some sort or another. The markings kind of made the green kid look like the fruits of the pepino plant his mother had in her backyard.

It let out a string of colorful curses absolutely inappropriate for what the yokai assumed was a toddler.

Before he could reprimand it - him, Hueso supposed, they were clearly not just animals – he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and that was about all the warning he got before another little green creature –this one wearing a purple hoodie and big square glasses over a purple mask – darted towards him and nailed Hueso in the knee with a piece of wood.

It didn’t hurt as much as it could have but he was still startled enough to drop the still struggling kid in his hand.

The purple one – did this one have a pillow tied to their back? - grabbed their friend and pulled him towards the corner, where yet another one was crouched. This one was bigger than the other two and he could at last make out their species, the last one not wearing much clothes. Besides a red helmet and a sling around their shoulders, seemingly carrying their loot, they had nothing covering the spiky, dark green shell, identifying them as turtles.

The trio made to get away before Hueso could even react, the big one shooing their companions in front of them. He had not been expecting unsupervised yokai children in his trash; much less so on the human side of New York!

The kids didn’t get very far thought.

The big one started coughing violently, hacking and spitting and it didn’t sound like it would stop anytime soon.

Doubling back around the others hung onto their biggest friend.

“Raph!”

“You gotta breathe, Raphie!”

Finally catching up with the situation, Hueso walked towards the gaggle of kids, taking off his cloaking brooch as to not further scare the children. Even this young they clearly knew to keep away from humans.

“Hey, hey, niño, take it easy” reaching out his now bony hand to try and soothe the coughing fit, Hueso quickly pulled it back towards him again, when something whacked it out of the way.

The one with the glasses had hit him again. Looking even more scared than before, yet determinedly standing between the adult and their companions, they was brandishing the plank in front of them in a defensive position. 

“S-stay back! You can’t ha-have my brothers! I-I-I won’t let you- I won’t let you eat them!!” The little one looked like they was about to cry but still did not move his shaky legs.

The hacking and spluttering of the spiky one just got worse. The boy was desperately trying to get some air into his lungs, tears streaming down his round cheeks. Unsuccessful he went down on his knees, clawing at his throat as if something invisible was strangling him.

The pepino looking one was trying to pull him back up and away, crying all the while.

“Little one, I just want to help! Your brother sounds very sick and it’s too cold out here for you children. Where are your parents, hm?” He went down into a crouch as well in an attempt to look less threatening.

The suspicion in the little one’s eyes didn’t waver; he just gripped the wood plank harder. How was Hueso going to help them-

“Raphie, no! Don, help me, he’s gonna squish Mikey!” Looking over his shoulder, Don, apparently, dropped his weapon to quickly help drag his collapsed brother onto his side. They were struggling as he was clearly too heavy for the other two tired and probably hungry turtles.

Taking a chance, Hueso ran up to them and rolled the spiky turtle onto his back, making it easier for him to breathe. To his surprise, the sling did not contain any material possessions but a fourth, itsy bitsy turtle with yellow splatterings like freckles, swaddled in blankets and seemingly sleeping. Hopefully sleeping.

“Ay, dios, how did this happen to you kids?” He cradled the spiky one to his chest. While his head and body was way warmer than even a turtle yokai should be, his arms were ice cold. It looked like the big one gave his clothes to the one with the pillow on his back. The size at least indicated it.

At least he had stopped coughing and was breathing shallowly again. But apparently the one called Raphie had reached his limits, because his tearstained eyes did not open again.

He looked up to the other two, who were hovering close now. They were shaking their bigger brother and calling out to him, appearing to have forgotten about the skeleton completely.

“It will be alright, niños. I will see to it he gets healthy again, si?”

Big eyes snapped up to his own.

“you’re not gonna eat us?” Don asked.

“Why would Death eat us, Donnie? He’s Death, he doesn’t need to eat”

“How would you know?”

Before the children could devolve into more of a squabble the skeleton interrupted them.

“I am not Death and I will certainly not eat you. My name is Señor Hueso and I’m a yokai like you. I can help you get back to the Hidden City.” What was supposed to inspire confidence in his sincerity only sparked confusion.

“What’s a yokai?” “And what’s a hidden city?”

Well, at least they didn’t seem afraid of him anymore.

“Have you been living up here all this time? No, no, don’t answer! Not important right now! Let us get your brothers inside first. There will be time for questions later”

With that he shooed the children up to the graffiti piece marking the entrance to his restaurant. Carrying the other two in his arms proved not to be a problem. Shifting them to one side how he did with Junior freed one hand up to activate the portal into the well-lit entrance of his pride and joy.

The amazement on the kids’ faces was adorable.

“Welcome to Run of the Mill Pizza, hombrecitos!”

It was past closing time so the rest of the place was only barely visible, but the group was swiftly led though towards the back. Flicking on one of the smaller lights he sets the limp and silently wheezing body down in one of the booths. Procuring a blanket from where he stashed for Junior, he swaddled the sick turtle as best as he could. Keeping him warm seemed like a good step.

The next thing to do is take off the sash holding the littlest turtle, lest his brother decided to lay on him again. The orange clad one was still asleep, which deeply worried Hueso, but the kids didn’t seem upset by it so maybe this was a normal turtle thing? He still checked the kid’s temperature and pulse and found both to be in a normal –for yokai at least –range.

“Here, sit down with your brothers, can you hold this little one? I’ll go get you some hot soup, no?” They did give him some suspicious glances still but ultimately climbed into the opposite side of the booth. The little pepino held out his hands for the baby turtle and Hueso made sure it’s tiny head was held securely before making for the kitchen.

His first stop was the first aid cabinet in the corner which should also hold a fair amount of medicines. He’d need to contact his doctor friend Roberto in the morning for a better asessment but for now a fever lowering potion and some soup would have to do.

Gathering his supplies around the kitchen, he was well aware of the eyes following him through the open door. The kids were huddled together, both clutching the small one between them and were keeping Hueso in their line of sight at all times.

Understandable, really. Who knows what they have been through?

In the low light he could see how dirty and tattered their clothes were. None of them were wearing pants or shoes, just oversized hoodies and sweaters, the colorful bandanas and the pillow strapped to the bespectacled kid with what looked to be a phone charger.

They all would need baths before bed.

Warming up canned soup on one of the stoves took care of the food situation, but Hueso decided to also make them hot chocolates. They looked like they’d need it.

 Doing his best to project calmness and safety the skeleton quietly hums one of Juniors lullabies. His son was only six months old so he’d have to check on him soon. He didn’t sleep through the night yet. Good thing Hueso was used to little sleep.

Finally, the soup was warm and ready to be served to his nighttime visitors.

He put down the bowls and cups of hot chocolate in front the decidedly sleepy looking kids. They still gave him the side eye but it was clear they would not be able to stay awake much longer. It was almost 1 a.m. by now.

“Here, hombrecitos, eat this. It will warm you up” sitting down next to the sick child, he checked over him. His temperature was definitely too high, since he now had a comparison.

“What are your names, children?” The kids exchanged glances with each other and only pressed their lips into thin lines.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Like Lightning

Street Fighter: The Movie is a goddamn masterpiece. I said what I said. Obviously, I know the film is terrible. Just, garbage. Straight stagnant, tepid, dumpster water. But, in that awful mire of sludge and refuse, there is a certain charm to be had. Like going out to a field after a torrential downpour, and just rolling in the mud. Slumming it through the seediest dive bars with your friends, picking fights and being ridiculous. This movie has the same energy as an alleyway raccoon, looking to mug you for the rest of your half eaten, three in the morning, hangover preempting burrito. It’s just feral, chaotic, nonsense and I love every goddamn second of it! Now, before you try and say I’m just an asshole who devours schlock, that isn’t the case. I love all forms of cinema. I was one of the few people who genuinely enjoyed Tenet and actually understood Stoker, after three viewings. I am a staunch supporter of the auteur and relish the creativity in their art. I am, at heart, a lover of storytelling and kind of a snob when it comes to cinema. But, at the same time, one of my favorite Godzilla films is Goji versus Megalon and that sh*t is abject trash. I find merit in the absurd and, sometimes, something can be so bad that it comes out the other side of preposterous. The Room is a film like that. The Rock is another. Really, anything Tax Money Desperate Nic Cage is in. There is is the cinematic sweet spot where you can be just the worst, and still entertain. So bad, it’s good, in quite a few ways. Street Fighter: The Move finds that balance perfectly.

I watched this movie opening day with my uncle, way back in the mid-Nineties. Street Fighter was all the rage, absolutely tearing up the arcades. I believe Championship Edition had just come out and I was learning how to play with my darling Cammy White. But dem cheeks, tho! I was nine or ten years old and, after witnessing the glory o Bison on screen for the first time, left he theater crushed. That was the first time I distinctly remember being disappointed by a film. Even my little fifth grade ass knew that sh*t was trash. There were just SO many things wrong with that film. Ryu wasn’t the main character and Ken was just some white dude in slacks. Sagat was this old man with a goofy eye patch Who the f*ck was Captain Sawada and where the hell was Fei Long or T. Hawk? The less spoke about what they did to Blanka and Dhalsim, the better. But the worst transgression this film made, was that pitiful ass hadoken Ryu threw during the climax. It was like a little flashlight in his palms. Sh*t was mad whack! So much of this movie was wrong; just flat-out incorrect to the lore. Why would they change so much of the story? You’ve basically stripped the identity of Street Fighter, out of Street Fighter. This is before I understand what Hollywood does to thing during adaption. The horrible, terrible, things they do in adaption. Especially to Video Game narratives… But it’s not all doom and gloom. There were a few things i rather enjoyed about the film. Obviously, the fact Cammy was in really went a long way to redeeming a ton of the sh*ttiness. I was a pretty big fan of JCVD back in the day so him getting cast as Guile was a boon to me. I adored the Chun-Li trio. I’ve been in love with Ming Na Wen for years, and that probably started with this film. E. Honda was awesome, Zangief was delightfully dense, and f*cking Dee Jay stole every scene he was in. That sh*t sparked pure joy for me but all of that, everything in this film pales in comparison to Raul Julia’s purely farcical take on M. Bison!

“For you, the day Bison graced your village was the most important day of your life. But for me? It was Tuesday.”

Let me tell you, even as a child, that line hit different. It was just so confident, so matter-of-fact, and the way Raul delivered it? Sir, you couldn’t anymore condescending. That smug, blisteringly callous, matter-of-fact way, he just SAID that sh*t was everything. Dude basically genocided Chun-Li’s village and was just like, “Yeah, but who are you again?.” Absolutely brilliant. Raul Julia's performance in this film, is one of the best I have ever seen in my entire f*cking life. Back when I was a kid, I just thought it was a fun time. As an adult who understands film, I know, for a fact, Raul put every ounce of his joy into that performance. It's not M. Bison, it's Raul Julia, channeling his Gomez Addams, while performing Bison for his kids and i love that. During this entire filming process, Julia was dying from cancer. He took this gig, his last acting job, because his children loved Street Fighter. This performance is a gift to them and he gave it everything. He left them something special, something that has endured for decades. Street Fighter: The Movie is bad. It is. But Raul Julia is f*cking brilliant. He outshines everything in that film and makes it more than worth a watch. I loved him as a kid and I appreciate him as an adult. If you have two hours to kill, definitely check it out. Keep in mind, it's kind of the worst, but you won't care. The second Julia saunters onscreen, you'll be lost in his apologetically hammy, scene chewing, showmanship.

[smokeybrand]

Like Lightning

Street Fighter: The Movie is a goddamn masterpiece. I said what I said. Obviously, I know the film is terrible. Just, garbage. Straight stagnant, tepid, dumpster water. But, in that awful mire of sludge and refuse, there is a certain charm to be had. Like going out to a field after a torrential downpour, and just rolling in the mud. Slumming it through the seediest dive bars with your friends, picking fights and being ridiculous. This movie has the same energy as an alleyway raccoon, looking to mug you for the rest of your half eaten, three in the morning, hangover preempting burrito. It’s just feral, chaotic, nonsense and I love every goddamn second of it! Now, before you try and say I’m just an asshole who devours schlock, that isn’t the case. I love all forms of cinema. I was one of the few people who genuinely enjoyed Tenet and actually understood Stoker, after three viewings. I am a staunch supporter of the auteur and relish the creativity in their art. I am, at heart, a lover of storytelling and kind of a snob when it comes to cinema. But, at the same time, one of my favorite Godzilla films is Goji versus Megalon and that sh*t is abject trash. I find merit in the absurd and, sometimes, something can be so bad that it comes out the other side of preposterous. The Room is a film like that. The Rock is another. Really, anything Tax Money Desperate Nic Cage is in. There is is the cinematic sweet spot where you can be just the worst, and still entertain. So bad, it’s good, in quite a few ways. Street Fighter: The Move finds that balance perfectly.

I watched this movie opening day with my uncle, way back in the mid-Nineties. Street Fighter was all the rage, absolutely tearing up the arcades. I believe Championship Edition had just come out and I was learning how to play with my darling Cammy White. But dem cheeks, tho! I was nine or ten years old and, after witnessing the glory o Bison on screen for the first time, left he theater crushed. That was the first time I distinctly remember being disappointed by a film. Even my little fifth grade ass knew that sh*t was trash. There were just SO many things wrong with that film. Ryu wasn’t the main character and Ken was just some white dude in slacks. Sagat was this old man with a goofy eye patch Who the f*ck was Captain Sawada and where the hell was Fei Long or T. Hawk? The less spoke about what they did to Blanka and Dhalsim, the better. But the worst transgression this film made, was that pitiful ass hadoken Ryu threw during the climax. It was like a little flashlight in his palms. Sh*t was mad whack! So much of this movie was wrong; just flat-out incorrect to the lore. Why would they change so much of the story? You’ve basically stripped the identity of Street Fighter, out of Street Fighter. This is before I understand what Hollywood does to thing during adaption. The horrible, terrible, things they do in adaption. Especially to Video Game narratives… But it’s not all doom and gloom. There were a few things i rather enjoyed about the film. Obviously, the fact Cammy was in really went a long way to redeeming a ton of the sh*ttiness. I was a pretty big fan of JCVD back in the day so him getting cast as Guile was a boon to me. I adored the Chun-Li trio. I’ve been in love with Ming Na Wen for years, and that probably started with this film. E. Honda was awesome, Zangief was delightfully dense, and f*cking Dee Jay stole every scene he was in. That sh*t sparked pure joy for me but all of that, everything in this film pales in comparison to Raul Julia’s purely farcical take on M. Bison!

“For you, the day Bison graced your village was the most important day of your life. But for me? It was Tuesday.”

Let me tell you, even as a child, that line hit different. It was just so confident, so matter-of-fact, and the way Raul delivered it? Sir, you couldn’t anymore condescending. That smug, blisteringly callous, matter-of-fact way, he just SAID that sh*t was everything. Dude basically genocided Chun-Li’s village and was just like, “Yeah, but who are you again?.” Absolutely brilliant. Raul Julia's performance in this film, is one of the best I have ever seen in my entire f*cking life. Back when I was a kid, I just thought it was a fun time. As an adult who understands film, I know, for a fact, Raul put every ounce of his joy into that performance. It's not M. Bison, it's Raul Julia, channeling his Gomez Addams, while performing Bison for his kids and i love that. During this entire filming process, Julia was dying from cancer. He took this gig, his last acting job, because his children loved Street Fighter. This performance is a gift to them and he gave it everything. He left them something special, something that has endured for decades. Street Fighter: The Movie is bad. It is. But Raul Julia is f*cking brilliant. He outshines everything in that film and makes it more than worth a watch. I loved him as a kid and I appreciate him as an adult. If you have two hours to kill, definitely check it out. Keep in mind, it's kind of the worst, but you won't care. The second Julia saunters onscreen, you'll be lost in his apologetically hammy, scene chewing, showmanship.

[thebibliosphere]

While I do sincerely believe that all prior Batmans could work with the Muppets, and you are free to headcanon whatever Batman you like, I'm now firmly in camp Battison because, let me tell you, Robert Pattinson would serve absolute fucking cunt next to the Muppets.

I can't decide if he'd do a Michael Caine and treat it like he's in Shakespeare or pull a Tim Curry and become an honorary muppet, but that feral bastard would bounce off them so well you'd think he was made of rubber.

And it's even funnier in-universe because, unlike other iterations, this is not a smooth-talking playboy who smiles easily and dons the glitz and glamor like a sparkling facade of misdirection. This is a sopping wet, shut-in, scrungly cat of a man who isn't even trying to hide the several shades of mental illness plaguing him or the dark, sleepless bruises under his eyes. (Maybe he's born with it; maybe it's Maybelline trauma.)

And then all this shit happens with the Riddler, and Batman becomes a symbol of hope instead of vengeance (although criminals still very much piss themselves at the sight of him. Like yeah, the dude carried civilians out of the flood zone while holding up a literal rescue flare to light up the night, but he's still the dude who punches like a fucking freight train. The violence might be leashed, but the threat very much remains.) and hey, look at that Bruce Wayne has come out of hiding!

Poor guy... bet it was hard finding out all that shit about his parents after he's spent so long mourning them. That and his house got fucking blown up. I mean, like, fuck 'em, he's still a billionaire but heeeey, look, he's getting involved! He's funneling money into the city at a rate that the relief workers can't spend it fast enough. He's meeting with the mayor, going to events, and giving interviews and actually, okay... okay, Mister Smooth-talker. Where has that smile been hiding all these years?

Did Brucie fucking Wayne go to therapy?

Good for him. Good for him.

Y'know, maybe he's all right. He certainly seems to be trying to bankrupt himself with all the charity work he's doing. Did you hear about how he paid off everyone's student loans at the bar that one night? Yeah, offered everyone jobs, too. Not to mention all the pro-union stuff he's implemented at Wayne Industries against the wishes of the board. Maybe Gotham can have one good okay rich person. As a little treat.

Luthor et al. can go fuck themselves, though. This is our billionaire playboy. We found him in a dumpster. Look at the bags under his eyes. Certified trash panda. (Y'know that tiktok meme of the raccoon coming out of a dumpster while Frank Sinatra plays over the top? That's their version of Bruce.)

Meanwhile, Bruce is in Hell. It's torture being this extroverted, but the mayor's got a point. Someone's got to do it, and if Batman has pivoted to bring light into the dark, then Bruce Wayne has to get involved in the city, too. And it's so much easier to affect change if people like you, so here he is. Being likable. (Aaaaaaah)

Inevitably more shit happens because it's Gotham, and not even the circus being in town can be normal. And suddenly Bruce Wayne's got a kid, and it's super cute even if the trauma parallels are a little on the nose, but maybe that's what they both need, y'know? Someone who knows what it's like to have your parents whacked by the mob so they can't go to the cops. Hey, did anyone else notice that Batman's suddenly got an eight-year-old dressed like a stoplight running around with him? What the fuck is up with that?

And then, one night, Bruce Wayne is scheduled to be on the Gotham Tonight show. He only glances briefly at the line-up, not putting much thought into it when he sees the words "Muppets." He's aware there's a film coming out because Dick desperately wants to go see it. But other than that, head empty. No thoughts. He's just going to sit on a couch next to some puppets for a few hours. How hard can it be?

I mean, it's not like it's going to alter the entire structure of his life.

That'd be ridiculous.

I'm doing *motions vaguely at Ao3* stuff with the BatMuppet universe to get some enrichment in my enclosure and ended up looking at the OG post again.

I caught a glimpse of some of the tags, and I don't want to single you out, friend, but just know I saw your '#it's funnier if you headcanon it as Battinson' tag, and I need you to know you just rewrote a significant chunk of my brain chemistry because yes, yes, yES.

[ironheartedfae]

Timing: Mid March Location: Outside Axis Feat: @mortemoppetere & @ironheartedfae Warnings: Mentions of Child Abuse/Emotional abuse (Past Tense), Suicidal Ideation, Summary: Emilio spies something a little bigger than a rat in his dumpster

The dumpster was right under his window. It was something he’d noticed when he’d first moved in, of course, because while Emilio might not always be the smartest guy in the room, he was good at noticing things. It was a necessary skill to have, after all. Slayers who didn’t notice things ended up dead long before they made it to thirty and, for better or worse, Emilio was four years past that now. 

So he’d noticed the dumpster outside his window the first night he dragged his mattress into the bedroom. He made note any time he heard something rummaging around in it. A raccoon, a rat, something more supernatural in nature. He made sure he knew when it was a thing that needed killing, just in case. This part of town was shit enough already. The last thing it needed was to be overrun by vermin. 

He heard it from the living room tonight. Enhanced hearing coupled with enhanced paranoia did a lot for a guy in that kind of situation. Perro, ever the loyal guard dog, snored softly from his spot on the couch cushion, and Emilio rolled his eyes as he stood. Whatever was down there tonight, it was bigger than the usual rodent. He was confident it was nothing undead, but the fluttering feeling that had lived in his chest for the last two years wouldn’t let him ignore it all the same. He moved silently to the bedroom, avoiding the floorboards that creaked and the door hinge that squeaked when you swung the door open all the way. Ducking into the room, he peered out the window and —

It was a kid. A fucking kid, digging through the fucking trash. She pulled out an old, discarded takeout box and shuffled off, and Emilio felt something building in his chest that hadn’t died with Flora the way it probably should have. Gritting his teeth, he managed to ignore it for all of thirty seconds before he was groaning, trudging into the kitchen and yanking open the fridge. There wasn’t much inside — there never was — but he managed to dig out some kind of lunchbox meal that Javi had not-so-subtly left on the shelf the last time he’d bullied his way into the apartment. It was sealed, unopened. Emilio grabbed it and walked out into the hall as quick as his bad leg would let him, down the elevator and into the street.

The kid was just leaving the alley when he started to approach. Emilio followed, trying to catch up without seeming like the kind of guy who was sprinting after a kid in a dark alley. It was a thin line to walk, and his balance hadn’t been good for years now, but he gripped the stupid ‘lunchable’ thing all the same. All he could think, in a sickening sort of way, was that he’d want someone to do the same for Flora. All he could think was that no one would ever get the chance to.

—

Winter wasn’t ever something Ren was going to get used to. Back down southwest, the worst she usually had to worry about was a deep chill one or two nights a year, If you stayed out of the desert. God she hated desert missions. But fae lived out there too, which meant there were monsters to take care of. At least up here it stayed bitter and awful in a consistent way. The desert swayed between too hot and too cold and too dry and the sudden rush of rain that left the nymph feeling queasy. Disconnected. Wrong. Here, they could build a shelter. Make a fire and even hide the smoke in a way that wouldn’t immediately out their spot. Hunting was a bit more of a problem. The few things that stayed up here were either too tiny to be filling, or far better at killing than the young fae wanted to deal with. 

Not when there were perfectly good troughs of food being just tossed away by the locals. The only thing more biting than the cold air outside was the rising anger she felt for the citizens of ‘Wicked’s Rest’. Wasteful. Ungrateful. If she’d ever wasted a meal like this back at the compound, Darya would have made her go without food for a week to learn her lesson. That was the thought running through her head as she found the discarded lo mein. Half full, didn’t even smell that bad. And as a bonus, it was on the top of the garbage pile. Must have been her lucky day. That or she did something right, and her mentor saw fit to pray for her. It was a blessing after all. Ren hadn’t eaten in a few days at that point and the grumble in her stomach was starting to become more than just an annoyance. 

With her head on a swivel, Ren started out for the road. The trek would be a bit longer today, but that was only because she never rummaged in the same place twice. It was part of her system, she figured it would be the best way to not get caught. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what she’d gone and done. As she rounded the second corner, she noticed the man on her six. Not too out of the ordinary. Plenty of people lived in this town (maybe too many) and he was just as welcome to the streets as she was. It was when, three turns later, a pick up in pace, and the man was still following that the coiled rattler heart of hers started to shake. 

The scowl on her face deepened as she turned again, a nonsensical way that would confirm if the stranger was actually following her or if it was just a strange coincidence. A change seized the girl the moment they were out of his line of sight. Shifting out of her glamour just enough to camouflage with the surroundings, and vault herself upward. Taking on the color and texture of the old building, casting this protective vision around herself.  It’d be risky doing this in the middle of a neighborhood, but it was dark, and quite late. Another blessing. Ren’s footsteps quieted, and then in a breath she was racing silently up the side of the building to take a perch on the roof. Keeping her heartbeat low, and all other signs of life hidden until the ambush.

And then he turned. 

Ren squinted, silently snarled, then jumped. Iron balisongs out and ready. Food forgotten on the roof. She landed on the stranger’s back and wrapped one arm around his neck, both legs around his chest and doubled back over his elbows. Locking his arms in place and making him drop whatever the hell he was carrying. Which fell to the ground with a gentle clatter. One of the knives was at his pulse, ready to stop it. Or at least to try. 

“Who are you? Why are you following me?” 

–

He figured it out the moment her step shifted. Emilio knew he was caught and, more than that, he knew that being ‘caught’ was a bad thing. Not necessarily for him — he was trained well enough to hold his own in a fight no matter who that fight was with — but for… whatever it was he was trying to do here. Because this kid, the one who disappeared from sight in front of him and reappeared to wrap her legs around his chest and put a knife to his throat, she wasn’t Flora. She wasn’t even what his mother and Juliana had wanted Flora to be. She was clearly someone who’d spent most of her life watching her own back.

Maybe Emilio could relate.

If he tried, he could probably get out of the position easily enough. Toss her off his back and into the bushes with only a knick on his neck that’d probably scar, but heal up easy enough. Any one of the knives he had on him could end this quick enough, if that was the path he wanted to go down. Except… It wasn’t the path he wanted to go down. In fact, the idea of hurting the kid put a pit in his stomach so deep, you’d never find the bottom.

So, forcing down every instinct that was screaming at him to toss her a few feet into the air, Emilio relaxed. He took a breath, tilted his head back a little. “Emilio,” he replied flatly. “I live in the neighborhood. Saw you digging through the trash. Brought you something with a few less maggots on it.” He gestured as best he could to the lunchable she’d made him drop, still sealed in its case. “If you’d rather eat out of the garbage, that’s fine. But I’m pretty sure everyone who uses that dumpster smokes like a pinche chimney, so that shit’s gonna taste like ash.”

—

The knife remained, as did the gritted teeth and arm around his throat. The frame on the slayer's back was far too light. Yes, she was skinny. Yes, you could even describe her as starved. But she almost felt like nothing. Like a bug. Like there was barely a person there. In truth there barely was. Ren was a tool first. She hadn’t earned personhood yet. Maybe this mission would grant her that privilege. 

Ren listened close to the words. Understanding only about half and realizing that it was possible this person was trying to help her for some reason. Which caused a flare of embarrassment to wrench her stomach into a knot. Which of course, only served to make her more angry. “What the hell is an Emilio?” 

It was most likely a name. She had asked. But it sounded odd and that made her angry. She pushed the knife in just a hair more. But took a moment to eye the brightly colored plastic that had fallen to the ground. He had been carrying it. A point in his favor. But not enough to trust it. Who the hell would follow someone just to give them a weird yellow box? 

“There were no maggots– How would you know what was grabbing? Were you watching me?” She accused, with about as much vinegar as it would take to scrub the inside of that dumpster clean. Ren had a hard time removing her gaze from the strange box though. Her stomach growling again as if to push the issue further into the light. It was enough that she loosened her grip. And that she realized something had to change about this interaction. Ren wasn’t built for direct confrontation. 

Her next movement was frantic. Hopping off the Emilio, and scampering over to where the box fell. Grasping it up like it was a fine treasure and using her other hand to hold both the knives out. 

“You can leave now.” 

—

He snorted at the question, quietly amused in spite of the arm around his throat and the knife pressed against his skin. “Probably nothing good,” he replied flatly. He doubted she’d find his dry humor very impressive — people with knives to his throat rarely did — but at least it kept him entertained. And distracted from the fact that he hadn’t grabbed a damn jacket on his way out the door. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the chill of Maine that existed even in the spring, took a moment to feel some concern towards the damn kid on his back who was clearly out here facing it on her own. If he didn’t think she’d use it to strangle him with, he might have doubled back to Axis and grabbed one of the ratty hoodies he’d fished out of the trash to pass along to her.

The knife pressing a little further into his skin pulled him away from thoughts of the chill and back to the situation at hand, the one he might have been more concerned with if he gave much of a shit about keeping his blood inside his body. He felt some of it run down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, likely joining a multitude of other stains on the fabric. But the kid shifted, and he could feel her looking at Javi’s damn lunchable, so maybe that was something.

“There were probably maggots,” he replied, shrugging as best he could with her still wrapped around his shoulders. “And I wasn’t watching you. I was looking out my window. You just happened to be there.” It wasn’t really a lie. Emilio hadn’t set out to watch the kid or anything. He’d just been trying to make sure there was no possessed raccoon scaling the side of his building or anything equally as ridiculous. 

Finally, that slight weight on his back disappeared, taking the knife with it. She scooped up the meal, and Emilio got a decent look at her for the first time. She looked half starved, dirty, and desperate. He was reminded, just a little, of Perro approaching him in that vampire’s house, felt the same quick spark of camaraderie. He didn’t have to wonder why he always found himself relating to everything that looked as though the world had beat them down to nothing. He might not have the best sense of self-awareness when it came to what went on inside his head, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to miss some things.

“All right,” he replied, holding up his hands palm out. It was more a gesture than anything else, because Emilio was a well-trained attack dog with a hundred different ways of taking the kid down from where he stood, but he wasn’t going to use any of them. “You want me to go, I’ll go. But you want more of that, or something to keep the wind off your back, I can help. Up to you either way. I’m not a damn saint, so I’m not going to follow you around trying to give you shit you don’t want.” 

—

From her new vantage point on the ground there was a much different side to this story than Ren had seen. Or maybe not seen enough of. The Emilio was a different flavor of haggard than most people in town. Smelt faintly of blood, even before her knife had nicked him. Mixed in with the sweat, soot, and dirt that the entomid had ignored in her haste to attack. Haste was a good word. Something she’d been punished for in the past and should have taken more careful steps to avoid. This… guy… was different. Maybe not completely human. She couldn’t really put a pin on why, but the way he carried himself wasn’t too dissimilar from some of the wardens back at the compound.

And he was offering more food. And shelter. 

“How am I to know you will not killing me?” Another accusation, slung like a weapon in its own right. Though the answer was decently plain. The Emilio could have killed her already. Ren wasn’t exactly strong, she was an ambusher at best. She hadn’t studied this guy enough to know the ways to do that properly. 

It was dumb. She shouldn’t deal with the people she was meant to be observing. Shouldn’t go to a second location where she’d definitely be at a disadvantage. Especially when she had not eaten in enough days that she was barely standing as it were. The only thing keeping her from shaking and shivering was perhaps the burning unblinking glare she hadn’t yet released. 

“What would you demand in return?” 

Temptation was an ugly beast. Maybe this was a test. Maybe she already failed. You were supposed to deny the devil three times, weren’t you? 

— 

It was a fair question, the kind Emilio would have asked himself, roles reversed. He shrugged a shoulder in response, tilting his head back ever so slightly. “Seems like I would’ve done it already if I were going to.” She was well enough in an ambush, but she was too emaciated to stand much of a chance against a grown man, even if Emilio didn’t have the added benefit of slayer strength on his side. Convincing her that he didn’t want to hurt her would probably be a hard sell. Convincing her that, if he had wanted to do her harm, he would have done it before she left the alley to begin with was a lot easier.

And he could see the wheels turning in her head. She knew his point was a good one. He’d had the upper hand even with her knife at his throat, and while she might not know that much, she could probably assume he wasn’t helpless. He didn’t know if it would be enough to convince her to accept help. He told himself he didn’t care one way or another, told himself it didn’t matter to him whether some kid starved or froze in the streets. But Emilio had had a soft spot for kids even before he’d had and lost one of his own. Now that he had… It was a hard sell convincing himself that he wouldn’t lose sleep over this.

He clicked his tongue at her demand. He wanted to say nothing, because he doubted the kid had anything to offer him, but he could tell that wouldn’t go over well. And he could relate to that. Emilio wasn’t the type of guy who’d accept anything for free, either, no matter who was offering it. So he considered for a moment, trying to think of something he could ask for that she might actually be able to give him. After some consideration, he settled on something and nodded to himself.

“Could use somebody to walk my dog, sometimes. He’s getting fat, laying on the couch all day. I work a lot. Don’t always have time to take him myself.” Not to mention the fact that frequent walks were hell on Emilio’s bad leg, but he’d keep that bit to himself. He didn’t think the kid was much of a threat to him, but he still wasn’t going to broadcast just how bad his chronic pain could get to a stranger who’d just held a knife to his throat. “‘Course, I’d need you to come around more often for that. Probably have to give you a bit more, if it was gonna be a regular thing. Not looking to cheat you out of anything.” 

—

Ren swallowed hard with what little spit she was able to muster in her mouth. So he had noticed too. Rough. But in a way, it lowered her hackles just a fraction. The blades stayed up. Probably would the whole night, but that was just how Ren was. Trust was hard earned, and easily lost. Even so, the mention of a dog had her perk up just a little. She’d taken care of a lot of dogs in her time. The wardens kept many. Most for fighting. Some for companionship. Others for more specific jobs. When Ren was little Darya assigned her to clean the kennels, it was as close as the matriarch would let her get to the normal training grounds. And on more than one occasion she'd been locked up in there as a punishment. Though she never saw it that way. 

The dogs were just about the closest things she had to friends. She always felt on equal footing to them. With the Adelskold family, you had to work to earn your meal. You had to be perfect to get any respect. And the frail child was far from that. But the dogs were a bit more even tempered. They knew that Ren would be there to feed them, and clean up after. Exercise them when needed, and even do some training as she got older. Sometimes, between the pack and the entomid, there was even something bordering on affection. They all knew where the other stood. All of them in their cages, and Ren in hers. 

“That is amenable.” If there was any excitement or joy in her agreement, it was far and well hidden behind the wall of anger and spite. “A fair trade.” 

—

She was still looking at him like a dog poised to bite, but she seemed to relax just a little at his bargain. More so, Emilio suspected, than she would have if he’d been more honest and admitted that he didn’t particularly want anything in return at all. This way wasn’t a bad trade for him, in any case. The meager food Javi managed to sneak into his fridge was left to rot in favor of Emilio’s healthy diet of cigarettes, whiskey, and tequila instead, and Perro really could use someone to walk him with more frequency than Emilio could manage. And the kid obviously needed to eat. This way, they were both getting something they could use. 

And there was a glint of something in her eye at the mention of the dog, too, something that made his chest ache with the memory of Flora. This kid’s excitement was well-masked in a way Flora’s hadn’t been, though Emilio had always suspected that his daughter would have lost that had she lived longer than she got to. After all, without the massacre, Flora would have been either thrust into the same childhood Emilio had lived or whisked away from all family but her father. Neither option would have produced a happy, carefree child. He knew that. 

He cleared his throat, pushing the thought of his daughter from his mind to keep himself from choking on it. “A fair trade,” he agreed. “I live in the building that dumpster was up against. Second floor, apartment at the end of the hall. Won’t ask you to follow me there, but you can come by whenever you want to. Lock’s broken, so you don’t need a key to get in. Nothing worth stealing, but I guess you’re welcome to try.”

—

“If the door is broken you will soon be dead.” Wise words from a kid who sleeps in the woods. Ren grimaced, and slowly, slowly, put the knives back in her pocket. By far the biggest show of faith she’d given since arriving to Wicked’s Rest. She never did learn how to pray alone. 

A long drawn silence passed between them. Filled by the gentle breeze that still swirled around. A few times, Ren glanced between the man and her exit. Almost everything in her screaming to just leave. Just go. Take the packaged food and bolt. Forget about the Emilio entirely. A quiet voice sat amongst the screams. Bidding the young fae to see whatever this was out. Soft, sure, but persuasive. Until it was the only thing left talking. Convincing her it was for research. For the mission. 

“I should… Meet the dog.” For the first time in their short history, Ren intentionally looked away. Eyes falling to her feet, to the ratty leather boots that barely fit. Stuffed with all manner of plastic grocery bags and bulky socks just to stay put when she ran. “So it does not get spooked.” It was a submissive sort of posture, as much as one permanently stock straight and still like a soldier could muster. One she’d often assumed near the wardens. It was almost… respectful. In a way. 

—  

“Kid, fixing my door wouldn’t change my life expectancy.” It was only half a joke. Emilio had been heading down a pretty set path since the massacre in Mexico, and that wasn’t changing any time soon. Door or no door, he doubted he’d make it to the new year. He’d made his peace with that.

He watched as the kid put the blades away, nodding his head as they disappeared. A moment of silence stretched out, and he hoped the fact that he didn’t respond to the knives’ disappearance by pulling out a blade of his own did something to further convince her that he wasn’t about to bleed her dry on the street. He half expected her to run, would have been fine if she did. She knew where he lived now, knew she could come by if she needed anything. And, in return, he was pretty sure that she wouldn’t take the food without holding up her end of the bargain and showing up at some point to walk the dog. If she’d asked to ‘pay’ something in return for his offering, it was likely that she intended to do right by it. 

It was only when the kid spoke again that Emilio shifted, taking some of the weight off his bad leg and nodding his head again. “All right,” he agreed. “That’s a good call. He’s a little scared around new people, sometimes. Might take him a minute to get used to you.” Especially if she was human. Perro wasn’t much of a fan of anyone without any kind of supernatural ‘quirks’ about them. Though… Emilio had a sneaking suspicion that this kid wouldn’t scare the dog in that area. He might only have a supernatural sense for detecting the undead, but his intuition tended to be decent when it came to telling if someone was something other than human. Especially in situations like this. Morbid as it was… he doubted a human kid would have survived as long as this one seemed to have, living on the streets in this town.

—

“I am not a child. Nor a young goat.” Her arms crossed over her chest as she huffed out the declaration. “Are you often in danger then? Some sort of soldier?” Ren made a mental note of that. Would write it in her ‘journal’ later. She would have said hunter if it wasn’t such a dangerous term. The wrong ears hearing that word could mean a death sentence. Maybe he was a hunter. Maybe not a warden, but something like them. That would make sense, he was helpful and looking out for people, if a bit rough around the edges. It would be a smart idea to make an alliance with local wardens, so they could know she was on their side. Now that she’d convinced herself all this was a good idea, her mind was working overtime to justify it. 

So far she really hadn’t gotten anything too good to send back. Maps. Pictures of the town. A few documents slipped out of town hall on a tour of the place. But nothing big. No hives or infestations, barely any humanoid fae… that she knew of for sure. Plenty of smaller fae creatures, disposed of, of course. If it was just the land the family was after, sure. But they wanted this town. Wanted to know if it was overridden with faerie scum. If it was worth protecting. For that, Ren had to get to know the people. 

And she had no idea how to do that. Making this something of a suicide mission. If she failed, provided too little info, or the wrong kind, surely she’d be discarded. Or worse. 

“You can show the way back now.” Her accent was really hard to place. Some strange mix of russian and swedish, the languages she grew up listening to. Ren’s phrasing often came off unpracticed and curt. Even when she was trying to be nice. “Hurrying lots, or the broken door will not matter even less. You are cold. I can tell.” 

—  

“Really? Could’ve sworn you were a goat. You sure you’re not hiding horns under your hair?” His tone was dry, and it took him a beat to recognize that it was the kind of joke he would have made to Flora. The kind Juliana would roll her eyes at, the kind Jaime would find far funnier than it really was. The faint smile that had been ghosting his features slipped, and his eyes darted briefly to the street behind the kid as if looking for something that wasn’t quite there. Her question pulled his gaze back, and he shrugged. “Something like that.” Soldier didn’t feel like the right term, but he didn’t know what was. Weapon, maybe. Knife. Soldiers were people, and they went home when their job was finished. That wasn’t him.

Snorting at her statement, Emilio shook his head. “Yeah, because it’s fucking cold. Goddamn Maine. Don’t know why anybody fucking lives here.” But he turned as he said it, nodding for the kid to follow him as he made his way back to the apartment. The cool air was biting in a way that made his limp a little more prominent, and he knew she’d pick up on that. He had a suspicion she’d file the information away, decide if she wanted to use it against him later. With most people, that would make him paranoid, but… Emilio had a soft spot for kids. This one was no different.

“Got something I can call you?” He asked, glancing back at them. “Since you don’t like ‘kid.’” 

—

Instinctively Ren put their hand up to her head. Checking if her glamour was somehow slipping. A slight panic picked up her heartbeat. Had the horns shown through? Were her sins on display? Attempting to make it look natural she carded her hand through the short grown-out buzz cut. No horns, no antennae. Good. “Wait. You are being faci- facei- sarcastic.” Facetious was the word her mentor had used. It was one that was foreign to her mouth. And felt wrong for having even tried to use it. Ren was not a scribe. Nor was she a wordsmith. Her words were meant to inform, not describe. 

“Well what is your job? Your designation?” People were like puzzle pieces to the family, cogs in a machine. Everyone had a job, more often than not, that was your nickname. And as Ren wasn’t around them enough to realize the difference, she assumed they were just named that way. Everyone was a hunter, but to keep the compound going the work never stopped. If the Emilio wasn't a soldier exactly, she was curious as to what could possibly keep this man away from his dog for so long he needed help. She had an idea, she knew what could make a man smell like blood and cold earth, drowned by alcohol and cigarettes. 

“You and I agree on that statement.” It was too cold up here. Why the hell her mentor thought this place was worthy of salvation was beyond her. But also not her place to question. However, the next one threw Ren even more than the last. She chewed on her lip for a second, trying to decide what would be the best answer. As far as she could tell, the man had been nothing but truthful to her. It felt wrong to give him anything else in return. Even if there wasn’t much to give. 

“Scout” She went with a title. What the other kids called her on the rare occasion she was allowed to be around them. Easier, yes, but still leaving a pit where the full truth should have been. Quietly, she mumbled something else. Barely audible even with enhanced hearing. “Or Ren. Renata. I do not care.” Even though it was against everything her mind was screaming, she did it. 

Maybe this was a show of faith too. 

— 

“Yeah,” Emilio snorted, shaking his head. “Sorry. Do that, sometimes.” The way she slipped up with her words was achingly familiar to a man only marginally comfortable in English, so he made no comment on it. He’d want someone to do the same for him, after all. 

Designation. He turned that word over in his head for a moment, trying to decide if he’d heard it before. He thought he might be able to use context clues to figure out what she actually wanted to know — job was familiar enough, after all — but something told him the way she thought of it was a little different than the familiarity he carried. Of course, he couldn’t determine that with the information he had because it was the sort of thing that required him to know the kid a little better than he did. So, he shrugged. “I’m a private investigator.” It wasn’t something worth lying about, particularly not when there was a sign on the outside of the apartment they were headed towards that would say as much. “Detective.” 

The cold seemed to be the first thing the two of them found to agree on, though Emilio was starting to think they were a little more alike than either of them might want to be. He resisted the urge to take out a cigarette and light it, fingers absently tapping against his thigh to compensate. “I’ve got a jacket I found in the trash,” he said. “If you’re any good at walking the dog, you can take it. Be stupid to send you out to walk him without anything keeping you warm. You wouldn’t be able to go as far, and I’d be right back where I started.” He figured phrasing it like she’d be doing him a favor in taking the jacket stood a better chance at actually convincing her to take it.

He shifted at the name she gave him, the way it settled into his head. Scout. Not much of a name at all. But then she mumbled something else under her breath, and he decided he liked that better. “Ren,” he repeated. “All right.” 

—

“Sarcasm is a tool of the devil.” She repeated the phrase exactly as she’d heard it. And let a low huff of air escape through her nose. Ren wasn’t sure what exactly she believed about the devil. But she sure believed in the suffering that creature inspired in man. The way anything that was deemed evil was beaten out of her, or anyone else who fell out of line. The family wanted their soldiers holy. They’d been chosen as protectors by God. Ren wasn’t sure she’d ever be good enough to fall into that category. 

Private investigator. That didn’t mean much to Ren. Well. The private part. Investigator was rather similar to what she did. “If you are doing it for yourself, what is the point?” Just gaining information for the sake of it? That sounded preposterous. Detective was an easier word to process though. She had heard some of the wardens and her mentor refer to the local law enforcement as ‘detectives’. More often than not they were being paid off to take a blind eye to whatever the family was doing in territories that were not theirs, not yet. 

Keen eyes watched the tapping. And had long since noticed the limp. Getting a bigger picture of the man the more they interacted. Maybe this is why the family sent Ren out alone. If she hadn’t been, she likely wouldn’t ever have strayed from her job as a silent pair of eyes. She was here to interact. To learn to infiltrate. “Only to help walk dog.” He’d been smart to phrase it that way. Accepting more ‘help’ than necessary was a dangerous line to trace. Though if it were a trade. If neither would owe the other, maybe that was okay. 

“Do you know all of other people who live in this building, Detective?” The short walk back was thankfully almost over. And big eyes stared unblinking at the old grungy apartment. He’d mentioned something about how they all smoked. Maybe he watched everyone else too. Maybe that’d be useful. 

— 

“Okay,” Emilio replied. If he found the statement odd, he made no mention of it. After all, he’d grown up around religion well enough to know how seriously some people took it. His mother, for example, had been a devout Catholic. Emilio himself wore a crucifix around his neck right beside Juliana’s ring, despite not knowing whether or not he believed any of it most days. He wasn’t about to alienate the kid by saying anything untoward about her beliefs, in any case. Not when he was trying to convince her to let him help. 

Glancing back again, he shook his head. “People pay me. Hire me to take on cases for them. Look into things they can’t or won’t look into themselves.” The fact that Ren didn’t seem to know what a private investigator did made him think she’d been on the streets a lot longer than whatever amount of time she might have spent off of them, if she’d ever spent any time off of them at all. Either that, or she was raised in some isolated manner. Maybe not too dissimilar to his own upbringing, though he shook that thought away as quickly as it came. Questioning his mother’s parenting, now that she was gone, wasn’t something he had any interest in doing.

He wasn’t surprised at her condition, and he shrugged. “Well, if you freeze to death, I won’t have anybody to walk him, either,” he pointed out. He doubted it would do much to change her mind, but he figured it was worth a shot. The thought of the kid freezing on the streets made him a little antsy, even if it shouldn’t. 

Yanking open the door to the building, Emilio ushered the kid inside and headed over to the elevator, jabbing a finger into the button. The thing was rickety as hell and was in definite danger of falling down one of these days, but he wasn’t much good on the stairs anymore. “Sure, some of them.” It was an understatement; he knew everyone in his building, because Emilio Cortez was nothing if not a damn paranoid bastard. “Guy in the unit across the hall from me is one to avoid. Gets a little too enthusiastic with his switchblade when he’s high. Lady two doors down has a cat. It bites.”

—

Ren simply nodded in response. The detective was smart, she thought, listened well and seemed pretty hardy. Even with the bad leg. He’d be good with the family. Good enough to fight alongside them. The thought shouldn’t have scared her the way it did. It should have been soothing if anything. Familiar. But that steady gnawing thought she just couldn’t shake kept worming its way forward. If Emilio was with the family, he would know what she was. Would know she was a monster. Would know she deserved to die. 

“I have not frozen or died yet. I do not intend to.” Perhaps the thing she was very best at was surviving. No matter the odds. No matter the costs. She’d be proud of that if pride wasn’t a sin. “You do not need to be concerned of my capability to do job.” Ren assured him as she entered the building and a pleasant warmth surrounded her. Somehow though, that was the thing that actually made her shiver. As if her body finally realized how cold it had been. 

“Guy across hall. Lady with cat. Okay.” These both were noted as if Ren was actually writing it down, readying strategies for a battle. Plotting the next attack. Though surely the detective must have some good reason to live in such close quarters with someone who was an enemy. Maybe she just hadn’t figured that out yet. 

— 

“Most people who die don’t intend to.” Years ago, he might have said no one intended to die, but… Well. Emilio had spent the last two years of his life chasing it, hadn’t he? Had maybe spent longer than that, if he was being completely honest with himself in a way he so rarely was. Most people who died didn’t intend to. Emilio, when his time came, wouldn’t be among them.

The kid shivered as she stepped into the warmth of the building, and Emilio pretended not to notice it the same way he pretended not to notice the way her clothes hung off them or the way her face was sunken in. He could know what he knew and he could try to help, but he couldn’t make her accept that help. Emilio knew, better than most, that you couldn’t convince someone to let you pull them out of a hole. People had been trying and failing to get him to take their outstretched hands for years now. 

“Not saying you can’t do it. Just saying I’d like to make sure this isn’t gonna be a short term solution. It’d be a pain in my ass to have to find somebody else to do it later, if something happens to you. Between you and me, I don’t like talking to people. I’d hate to have to do it more than once.” Again, framing it like she was doing him a favor by letting him keep her warm.

He nodded as Ren repeated his statements back to him, making note of the way she said it. Like she was building a roster in her mind, making sure she knew who was who. Emilio could relate to that. It wasn’t that different from what he’d done when he’d first moved in. He stepped onto the elevator, hitting the button for the second floor and leaning against the wall as the rickety thing climbed up, ignoring the groans of the gears. The door opened, which felt like a miracle every time, and he made his way down the hall to his unit. Nodding back at Ren, he pushed open the door. “He was on the couch when I left,” he commented. Sure enough, Perro hadn’t moved from his spot, though he lifted his head up briefly as the door opened.

—

“I would. For a good reason. Being cold is not good reason.” Unaware of how similar this might be to something the detective might think, Ren thought little of it after it came out of her mouth. Didn’t everyone have purpose? Something that drove them to do… everything? If you weren’t ready to die for your cause, it wasn’t a very good creed then was it? Or perhaps you were simply not faithful enough in it. 

He was eyeing her again. Trying to be sly about it, but the kid noticed how long it took for glances to subside. “I can take care of myself. I have been doing it just fine.” Defiant. And in her mind, true. The fire inside her building itself back up again. Enough to stop the shiver. That or the warmth was finally doing its job. There wasn’t much of her to actually warm up. So shifting temperatures didn’t really take long to… temper. Ren walked with a confidence she didn’t actually possess, the kind that would have fooled anyone, right up until she stepped into the elevator. 

The entomid was about to speak up, question why the detective’s room was so small when something shifted. The whole room shifted. Shook. Left Ren gripping tight to the railing with a look of terror and confusion barely barely masked by her angry scowl. The door opening to reveal a different place did little to assuage her fear. 

“What did you do, Detective?” The question was low, and flat as any of her others, but maybe just maaaybe a bit shaken. Was this man a spell caster? Had they entered some other… equally shitty dimension? But the man was already walking forward, acting as if it was nothing. Making some remark at what must have been his actual room. Though she hadn’t taken any steps to get any closer. Still practically glued to the spot on the rail. 

“Wha–” She began to repeat the question when the door began to close again. Prompting another wave of fear in the kid. “HEY! Hey what is this!?” 

— 

“There are no good reasons.” At least, not for a kid. Emilio, he’d already lived past his expiration date. More than once now, probably. But Ren? Fuck. She didn’t look much older than twenty, still had years ahead of her. And she ought to see those years. Just like Flora should have, or Jaime. 

But he could only argue with her so much, about so many things. He was goddamn tired, exhausted down to his core in ways that had very little to do with the hours he spent not sleeping in his bed or the way he was on the streets with a knife in his hand more nights than not. If the kid wanted to say she’d been taking care of themself just fine with her skin hanging off her bones and her small frame trembling with the cold, Emilio wasn’t going to fight it. He didn’t have the energy for that.

Maybe if he had had a little more energy, he would have noticed just how nervous she got in the elevator. As it was, he leaned against the wall with his eyes closed for the duration of the ride, unable to distinguish their new fear from the uneasiness that had been rolling off her in waves since the moment he’d first seen her. 

It was only at her question that he glanced back, brows furrowed in quiet confusion. The kid was still on the elevator. “Door’s gonna shut soon if you don’t…” But it was already sliding closed, prompting a sigh from the detective. He limped back over to it, pressing the button again so the door would slide back open and raising a brow. “Never heard of an elevator, huh? It’s all right. Took us up a floor. Like stairs, but easier on us old guys. Come over here, look out the window. Street’s still there.”

—

No. She had certainly not heard of an elevator. Her face reddened with embarrassment the moment the door opened again. Not a death trap. Not even an intentional threat. Suddenly she felt like a scared little kid again. Screaming at the sight of her first car. But the detective wasn’t looking to strike her for being insolent. If anything he looked like he was trying to be something else. Something the entomid didn’t really know but to anyone else would look like compassion. She didn’t like it. 

Ren brushed past Emilio with a harsh bump and no words shared. Not taking her eyes off the uneven tiles on the ground the entire stretch to the window. Where. Yup. There it was. The road below. The heat coming off her angry breath was enough to fog up the old glass. “Well it is not my fault your strange machine felt like it was about to fall into the earth.” A few more lingering seconds of staring and she finally turned on her heel. Not even realizing she’d gone for her blade again. It wasn’t out, but her hand was firmly holding onto the hilt. 

“Dog got out.” She changed the subject. Too embarrassed to do anything but point out the obvious. The inquisitive little guy had taken a little stroll into the hall from what had to be the detective’s unit. She’d expected something much more intimidating. Something that looked like a real dog. Not some tiny scrawny thing that probably looked about as awful as Ren did. While it wasn’t by much, the pup did improve her mood. “Is it going to get any bigger?” 

— 

He should have seen the reaction coming. The way she brushed by him without looking at him, the way she responded to his attempt at reassurance with irritation. Emilio was a father, once, but not to a kid like this. Not to a kid this age, who had enough pride to be embarrassed instead of seek comfort when something scared her. He let her go, not following as she made their way over to the window to double check and make sure he hadn’t lied to her.

“Old building,” he replied with a shrug, hands in his jacket pockets. “Probably will fall into the earth, one of these days. But rent’s cheap, and people don’t ask questions.” He figured that kind of thing might appeal to Ren, too. Not the rent — he doubted she had much of a concept of that, if she didn’t know what an elevator was — but the privacy. The way you could move without being seen even on your worst day simply because no one cared enough to open their eyes. That kind of thing, he thought, might be important to her. Not that it mattered, of course. He was under no illusion that she’d actually hang around the apartment for more than an hour or so at the most. Long enough to repay her ‘debt,’ but no longer than that. If she came back around to walk the dog again, it’d probably be sparingly. 

And speaking of the dog… Emilio raised a brow as Perro sat down in the middle of the hall, looking up at the pair inquisitively. “Oh, now you wanna get off the couch.” He walked over, leaning down far enough to offer the tiny ball of fur his hand. The limb was sniffed carefully, just as it always was, before Perro shoved his head against it. Emilio responded with a scratch behind the ears. It was a ritual they’d perfected. You didn’t go to Perro, he’d learned; you had to let Perro come to you. “Don’t know,” he shrugged in response to Ren’s questions, glancing back at her. “Just found him one day a while back. Think he’s full grown, though.” He straightened, and Perro turned his careful gaze to Ren. “Gotta let him sniff you,” he told her, “or he’ll probably bite the shit out of you. Es un perro malo.” His tone was fond, in spite of the words.

—

Now he was back to not really making sense. Ren had been in old buildings before. The temple was just about the oldest building she’d ever seen and there weren’t any boxes of doom there. Well. Moving ones. Thinking about it too much sent a shiver down her spine that wasn’t from the cold. Maybe that’s why the elevator shook her so much. Far too familiar. Far more upsetting than just a room that moves. She refused to look at it as she made her way towards the dog and the door beyond it. 

“That does not mean he is bad dog.” The scrawny teen slipped into Spanish as easily as she had English. Which is to say not exceptionally well. But understandable. Likewise for both, she understood far better than she spoke. It wasn’t really like her to directly contradict a personal statement like that. But the tiny thing in front of her didn’t deserve to be demeaned for its nature. “Dogs are supposed to bite.” Another reason she felt such kinship with them, perhaps? 

She waited patiently for the dog to lose interest in Emilio’s hand, then crouched slightly so hers could be next up for inspection. Honestly not minding too much if the dog did decide to chomp. Wouldn’t be as bad as some of the bigger shepherds and mastiffs back at the compound. 

— 

Ren slipped into Spanish, and Emilio’s eyes lit up just a little. English always felt clunky and uncomfortable on his tongue, like it didn’t sit quite right in his mouth. Frequently, he’d say the wrong thing or misuse a word in a way that got him a strange look. And he hated that. Emilio didn’t tend to ‘use his words’ particularly often — he was far more well-versed in the language of violence, as that had been the first one he’d ever learned — but when he did, he didn’t like to be misunderstood. It was hard enough to work up the courage to speak when you knew what you said couldn’t be misinterpreted. When every sentence might mean something other than what you’d meant for it to? It felt impossible, sometimes.

“Not everyone thinks so,” he replied, staying in Spanish as he continued to scratch Perro behind the ear. “I don’t care if he bites me. It doesn’t hurt. But some people get scared. Or they get angry, and that scares him. Makes him bite more. Pisses me off, too.” Emilio didn’t tend to stand for people snapping or yelling at his dog.

Satisfied that Emilio’s scent hadn’t changed in the short time he’d been gone, Perro moved on to the new person in the room. He approached Ren slowly, cautiously, sniffing at her hand experimentally. Like Emilio had expected, there was none of the instantaneous animosity that the dog tended to express towards humans, so… Ren must have been something else. Not undead, which was good, but something. If she wasn’t a kid, it would have set him on guard a little more. As it was, he only made a mental note of it. After a few moments of sniffing, Perro heaved a sigh and sat back, looking up at Ren with a careful expression. “You can pet him now,” Emilio said, still in Spanish. “Looks like he’s decided not to bite you.” 

—

For once, Ren was too busy focusing on something else to note the small changes in expression. She eyed the small dog with a burning curiosity. Like it was going to give her all the secrets in the world. But not so harshly that the canine would take it as a threat. Which, apparently he didn’t. The detective was speaking entirely in Spanish now, which was fine. Honestly felt no different to the kid. Both were foreign. Both were hard. 

“Most people are foolish.” She replied, agreeing with the sentiment that she’d probably get angry too if someone yelled at her dog. If she ever had a dog of her own. Which was unlikely as only the top soldiers got to keep companion animals. Ones who had earned it. Jericho was one of those. He wasn’t the cruelest of the wardens, but he followed every command Darya gave without hesitation. Executed flawlessly, every time. And that made him holy. Made him worthy. Ren remembered liking his dog. She was clever and kind. But viscous when she needed to be. 

Tentatively, Ren extended a couple fingers to gently scratch at the small dog’s ear. It seemed to like it well enough that she even gave him a single stroke before standing at attention again. Feeling silly for having spent so much time on a personal indulgence. Her eyes drifted inward to the unit. Widened slightly as she took it in. 

“This is your dwelling?” The place was massive. Well. Compared to anything Ren had stayed in. It was even more than one room. She couldn’t even see every inch of it. “How did you earn something this incredible?” 

— 

Emilio nodded, agreeing with the statement even if he wasn’t adding anything verbally. He watched carefully as Ren scratched the dog behind the ear, more trusting than he might have been with someone older but still a little apprehensive. Perro was plenty capable of taking care of himself — he’d bit the hell out of Jeff the last time the guy got too close to the two of them in the hall — but the hunter felt protective all the same. In this case, it wasn’t needed. Ren did just fine with the dog, and Perro was happy with the attention. It was a good sign for the dog walking arrangement. The whole thing would have been harder to sell if Perro disliked the kid, and Emilio didn’t have anything else for her to do in exchange for the food or the jacket. 

As the kid straightened, Emilio studied her reaction to the apartment. Given the way she’d reacted to his sarcasm before, he assumed the awe was genuine, which was… a little sad, frankly. Axis was falling apart on its best day. The paint on the walls was chipped, with drywall exposed in some places. There were a few bullet holes scattered throughout that had been there when Emilio moved in. The floor was sticky and uneven, the whole apartment seeming to exist on a tilted axis. The couch, one he’d found in a dumpster just after moving to town, was ratty and stained, with more holes in it than it had undamaged fabric. The appliances in the kitchen were ancient and only worked about three times out of ten, and the ‘desk’ Emilio had set up for his business was another dumpster find with more than a few knicks in the wood from knives. The bedroom, though it couldn’t be seen from the front, was in even worse condition, with mold on the otherwise bare walls and a single double-sized mattress laying in the center of the room. And here Ren was, looking at it like it was a goddamn palace. It might have been funny if it weren’t so goddamn depressing.

“Pay for it with money I make as a detective,” he replied simply, because saying rent probably wouldn’t mean much to her. He wasn’t even sure saying money would mean much, but he didn’t know how else to phrase things. Spanish might be the language he was most comfortable in, but he still wasn’t good with words. The way he grew up, you used violence as a first resort. Talking had always been a lot further down on the list.

—

"You get to live here all on your own??"  It sure didn't sound like anyone else was home. Ren's wonder was very sincere. She couldn't help but take a few steps in and look around like it was fucking Disneyland. Of course she had seen bigger places, nicer ones too. But they were all public. Untouchable in a way Axis wasn’t. Each mark of personality, each stain and imperfection was in its way, beautiful. Because it was unique. It was the detective's in a way that she’d never really owned anything. Even the clothes on her back or the meager cot that served as her bed back home was subject to repossession at the slightest whim of her mentor.

It only took her a minute or so to remember herself. Her manners. Ren retreated into herself the moment she realized she’d fully walked into the house and started touching things without even asking permission. Her ears reddened with embarrassment for the third time that night, and what probably wouldn't be the last. And instead of apologizing or leaving, she sort of just stood still. Waiting for the inevitable hit that was to come, trying not to flinch about it. 

—

“Sí.” The more she spoke, the more it became clear that even an apartment like Emilio’s was something incredible to her. It planted an ache deep into his chest. Someone somewhere out there had brought this kid into the world, intentionally or not, and she was alone now. There was something so profoundly unfair about that, something infuriatingly wrong. It seemed all the more pronounced to a man who’d lost his own child. And he recognized that he might be making an unfair assumption, knew that Ren’s parents could have died instead of left, but the injustice felt the same either way. 

The way she retreated into herself, too, had nausea tugging on his gut… though the reasoning was a little different. This was something more familiar to Emilio, something he understood on a more personal level. He knew what a kid looked like when they thought they were about to be hit; he’d worn the expression himself for most of his childhood. But Ren, as far as he could tell, wasn’t a hunter. There was a difference between training and abuse. (That was what he told himself, at least. Constantly, on repeat, for years. There was a difference. No one ever hit him when he didn’t deserve to be hit, or when it didn’t benefit him somehow. The scars marring his body were lessons. That was all.) Carefully, Emilio picked up the hoodie on the back of the couch. It was, like everything else in the apartment, old and worn and likely pulled from the trash. He offered it to her, movements slow and cautious. “Here’s that jacket,” he said, figuring the best course of action was simply to ignore her skittish behavior in hopes of showing her that she didn’t need it here. “Probably not the warmest thing in the world, but better than nothing.” Better than what she had now.

—

The strike never came. It never came and he was trying to give her something. The piece of clothing bundled up in the man's hands looking for all intents and purposes like a handout from god. She’d talked about it, Ren reminded herself. For the dog walks. For the new job she’d taken on outside of her mission. 

Jericho would not have strayed like this. 

He would have endured the cold, and hunted for his own food instead of stealing or what she viewed as begging. Ren looked at the hoodie for a long, long, time before slowly reaching out towards it. 

"Detective… Ehmeeleeooh. You are not at all like what my mentor spoke of." It was quiet. But rebellious all the same. The entomid couldn't wrap their head around this man. She had been in town for about a month. No one else followed her just to hand off a box of food, and give her something to do to earn more. And that was fine. That's how it was supposed to be. Outsiders were selfish. They needed to be protected from monsters like the fae, but they were not the same as the wardens she grew up around. 

It was one of those catch 22 things. They were all strange and often stupid, but they deserved salvation. That's what they called it when the wardens destroyed monsters like her. That’s what they called it when they raised her, kept her close and taught her everything she knew. Salvation. 

But this? This felt a lot more like being saved.

"You are a good man." 

—

She reached for the hoodie and, in a strange way, there was some relief to that. Emilio didn’t know how to offer comfort with words, didn’t know how to untangle this web of thinking that had her flinching at the slightest move or looking at a shithole apartment like a castle. He’d never gotten to the level of parenting that required you to ease your child’s more abstract fears. In moments like this one, he wondered if that might almost be a good thing. He wouldn’t have been good at it. He wouldn’t have known how to offer words of reassurance to Flora any more than he knew how to offer them to Ren. The hoodie was the best he could do, and it wasn’t enough but Ren reached for it all the same. Didn’t that count for something? 

Their next words confused him, but he didn’t let it show. Whoever this mentor was, if they were the reason Ren was how she was now… He doubted most things were like what they spoke of. But saying that would probably undo any progress he’d made here, and he didn’t want to risk that. He wanted Ren to be okay. That was all he wanted, in this moment. And that was going to be a long, slow road.

And then, she went and opened her mouth again, and Emilio froze. You are a good man. It seemed to hang in the air between them like a tangible thing, bright and glaring and wrong. Sucking his teeth, the hunter shook his head. “There are plenty better.” Back to English now, clunky and uncomfortable, because the confession felt too painful to utter in the same language he’d once used to sing his daughter to sleep. The fact that Ren thought he was a good man only served to prove that her experience with good people was slim. He knew that. 

“Do you want me to show you where the leash is? Then you can grab it if you ever come by when I’m not home.” A quick change in subject, but not one that would be too jarring, he hoped. She seemed to like the dog. That made the conversation topic feel safer.

—

Being old as it was, the hoodie was raggedy and soft. Most of the clothes that Ren wore at the compound were meant for uniformity. For structure. And most importantly, utility. Comfort was never a care. The old long sleeve shirt she had on now was to help her blend in. And was one of maybe four she carried with her. Rough fingers, far more worn than one her age should have had, tenderly rubbed circles on the old dusty red fabric. Holding it as reverently as one might hold a holy relic. It was holey. Not that the pun would really occur to the kid. 

She had a lot to think about. How much something as tiny as this could mean so much to her, how many others out there were like this man. And more than that. The seed had been planted, even if it had miles of dirt and concrete to break through to actually make it to fresh air. 

The world was different than how she’d been taught. 

Emilio seemed to refute the compliment. But in Ren’s mind it was just a fact. You are what you do, and he had done something good. And he should be told so. Even so, she could relate to his idea of others being better. There always was someone better out there. No matter what you did. 

Holding the hoodie close to her chest, she turned and simply nodded. This was better. A job. Something to focus on. “Is there– specific time dog is regimented to do walking?” 

— 

Luckily, Ren seemed content to drop the subject of Emilio’s dubious status as good for now. He found himself hoping it wasn’t a thing that would come up at all in the future, and that she wouldn’t hate him completely when she realized the assumption was a wrong one. It was easier, he thought, when people were never under any sort of illusion that you were someone decent. Never earning any expectations at all was so much simpler than letting people down. Emilio would know; he’d let just about everyone down, over the years.

The question threw him off a little, and he looked to Perro as if the dog might answer it for him. When Perro, predictably, offered no input of his own, Emilio shrugged. “Don’t really have any kind of a set schedule with him. I take him out when he scratches at the door, but I’ve never been able to walk him very far.” He knew the kid had noticed his limp, knew she could probably come to the correct conclusion regarding his inability to take the dog for long walks. It wasn’t that Emilio wasn’t technically capable of going long distances on foot. It was just knowing that, if he did it with Perro, he wasn’t the only one who might get into trouble if he couldn’t make it back home. His own safety was an afterthought. The safety of other people — or, in this case, dogs — was far more important to consider. “You can take him whenever you feel like it, really. Just check the food bowl to see if he’s eaten. I fill it up before I go out, so if it’s still full, he hasn’t finished his breakfast yet. And he’ll probably be a real ass about it after half an hour or so. Gets snappy.” 

—

“No wonder he is snappy. Dogs need order. Schedules.” Her brows furrowed slightly, as she leaned down again towards the pup. Letting him do the whole sniff, accept, lean, thing all over again. Just for a few extra scritches. Ren huffed then addressed the pup in question. “We will fix this, is that not right, dog?” Perro, hearing his ‘name’ perked up even more, though Ren was none the wiser about the hound’s moniker. Or lack of one. Dogs were just called dog. In any language. And this one was the only one here, so asking for a number didn’t make sense either. “Get you all big and strong.” A few more pets and both of them sighed contentedly. 

Satisfied, and deciding this conversation had already run its length, Ren turned again, this time towards Emilio. “I will not let you or dog down.” It wasn’t a promise, not in the sense that it would bind her. Not that that whole thing had really ever worked for her. Not after– Well. No need to dwell. But it was an agreement. One she intended to follow through with. “You will not follow me again though. After I leave.”  

—

“Not the only reason why he’s snappy.” Emilio’s voice darkened as he remembered the house where he’d first found the dog, the thing that had owned Perro before he had. No amount of order or schedules would undo the damage that had been done there. Even burning the house down had offered Emilio little reprieve for the anger he still felt when thinking about it. It wasn’t entirely dissimilar to the anger he felt thinking about Ren and the ‘mentor’ she referred to. Emilio had a sneaking suspicion that that was the same sort of person as the vampire who’d owned Perro before.

Perro seemed content enough with the kid, though, and Emilio was pleasantly surprised by it. He huffed an amused laugh as the dog perked up hearing his name, reaching forward to give him a quick scratch under the chin. “Don’t think a schedule will do much to make him big. I think he’s a small dog.” Some kind of terrier mix. He thought he remembered the girl at the pet store saying that, the first day. 

He looked back to Ren as she turned her attention back towards him, offering a nod at her words. It didn’t mean much, really, because Emilio was a hard guy to let down and Perro was generally easy enough to please as long as he was fed and paid attention to. Chuckling, he held up his hands palm out and nodded his head. “Won’t follow you this time.” Though he’d make no sweeping promises for the future. (He’d make no promises at all, if he could help it; Rhett had always hammered that point home pretty hard.)

—

Ren shrugged. It was a bit uncharacteristic of her, but they were just mirroring the mannerisms of the detective. He seemed fond of the gesture. Honestly, it was kind of a nice way to get a point across without having to say anything about it. There’d probably be a lot more shrugs in Ren’s future. As long as she was away from the family. They weren’t really the kind to send people to make sure that their scouts were doing what they were supposed to, so long as regular messages made their way back. The old satellite phone was a bitch to figure out. But it worked. And she was even getting used to this internet thing. Not well. But workable. 

“Big in heart then.” Small dogs could be good too. Even ones that were at a disadvantage. Ren wouldn’t ever admit how akin to the little fuzzball she really felt. A little tether strong enough to push through her grouchy antisocial exterior. She wanted this dog to succeed. To be happy. To thrive in its environment in a way she wasn't so sure she really could. But Emilio cared about it. More than the wardens or her mentor ever cared for her. 

Ren’s brows quirked slightly at the wording, but chalked it up to a misunderstanding. Spanish wasn’t her best after all. “Yes. Well.” The girl stood awkwardly for a moment, then started toward the door. Ushering one last phrase out just before disappearing into the night. “до свидания” Russian for goodbye. The significance of it though, was probably lost on the man. Greetings were reserved for respect, and the young fae was rarely allowed to use the more intimate wording. The detective, Ren figured, had earned that much. And he was older than her. So it was fine. It would be fine. It had to be fine. There was no way this would burn and crash around her. She’d fix it long before it became a problem. 

Outside back in the cold, the last thing she did before disappearing into the shadows was slip into the sweater. Taking what she assumed was a private moment to nuzzle into it. To savor the warmth, and the first connection they ever made outside of the Adelskold family. 

— 

Big in the heart. It was a nice phrase, Emilio decided. Not one anyone back home would have been particularly fond of — his mother often said that the heart was a useless thing, good for pumping blood but bad for metaphors — but he liked it. It fit Perro well. Fit Ren all right, too. 

He nodded as she stood, confusion flickering briefly across his face as they spoke. “Vale,” he repeated. Okay. Something told him that wasn’t what she’d said, but she was headed to the door before he could do much of anything to roll over the translation. He offered her a small nod. “See you around, Ren.” In English this time, though it didn’t seem like that was her first language any more than it was his. Strangely, he found himself hoping his statement might be true. Seeing her around wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MUSTACHE 

So recently I went digging back through the original comics and I found the moment Jake decided to put on the ol’ push broom. And let me tell you… It’s a nice look. But dude is going out to his cab every day and taking the time to apply a fake mustache so that it looks good and real. Then he goes back to his (steven’s) home and takes off the ‘stache. 

IT TAKES TIME TO PUT ONE OF THOSE ON. Like, putting on any fake hair to make it not look like a silly costume $5 wig is EFFORT. You have to get the expensive kind, to get the spirit gum out, to make sure it isn’t going to slide off if you get sweaty or rained on. Brush it right. Maybe even apply a bit of makeup around it to blend the edges in. Then you have to take care of it! You can’t just toss it in the glovebox or drink holder! Lay it flat and protect it from dust and things. Jake took care of that thing! 

So naturally being me and absolutely obsessed, sleep deprived, and tired of reloading tumblr over and over again at 3am waiting for someone to wake up so I can get my Moon Knight fix…. I sat down and over-thought about it. 

First, I want to point out just how different Jake looks from Marc and Steven. 

Comic book Steven looks like a classed up Marc and Marc looks like a man that crawled out of a dumpster that used to be on fire and is now mostly just expired takeout, raccoons, and ash. Show Steven looks like someone you want to hug and read a fashion magazine once but got confused and now just wears fun shapes and colors because it reminds him of a show he saw once on TV in the 80s, while Marc looks like he thought a good disguise was wearing a hoodie and slicking his hair back. 

I digress. 

But Jake? Jake is a man that set out to look like someone else. To build his own identity. In the comics he looks solid. Set jaw, the mustache, the hat, the style. He looks like a friendly uncle (depending on the run). So different from Marc’s scowl. From Steven’s clean shaven class. He feels like one of the common people that can blend in. To be friendly and enjoy himself. 

In the show he honestly looks so amazingly different. The thin lips. The sharp jaw. The fashion choice that even makes his body build look so different. He looks taller, slimmer, lanky, and fast. From a distance Marc is shorter appearing but he is also built. Steven looks softer and squishy. It’s amazing what posture and fashion will do to change the shape of someone. 

But even then, Marc and Steven are so similar in appearance. Probably beyond easily confused for one another if you aren’t in the know to check the eyes and eyebrows. Aside from Steven’s curls flowing wild and free and his fashion choices, he has no problem with this. He’s never needed to have a problem with this. Steven has always been his own person and not aware of Marc. 

Marc makes his difference known by his choice in fashion that makes him comfortable and his hair. But he’s no stickler for it. He’s never needed to have a problem with this either. 

So why does Jake? Let’s look past the obvious “They are different people and of course headmates are going to have their own view of themselves”. Let’s actually look at Jake’s history. 

Unlike Steven, Jake has been very much aware of the other two while they aren’t aware of him. Can you imagine the number of times he has had to pretend to be either of them? Keeping his head down, mustering his best accent, or faking a smile as he left a situation. 

Jake is unknown. Unthanked, unappreciated, and overlooked. He carries his own trauma and he keeps them alive. He sees himself as different from the other two. He is the force that holds it all together in the background. He’s also lived his own life, even if Marc isn’t aware of it. 

It is possible Marc has far more missing time than he really thinks. He could easily miss days or months and think nothing of it. Maybe Steven was having a go of it. He could even miss a year and not care. Marc is so in loathing of himself that the less he fronts in his lowest of times the happier he is. It’s easy to see Jake taking that time to not only protect Marc, but to steal a little time for himself too. 

Over this time, Jake notices he can grow facial hair easily. It probably looks good. During certain periods having a mustache was considered very adult and in high fashion. It’s easy to change a face with just a little facial hair. Easy to look in the mirror and see someone else. To shape it and decide what you want to look like. 

Steven developed his own identity and clung to it so desperately. His name tag, his name spelling, being acknowledged for who he is. This was Steven’s way to say “I am Steven. I am my own person. I am my own identity.” 

Jake found his own identity through how he looked. His name isn’t as important to him yet because no one knows who he is. But they can see him. He can be himself with a hat for comfort. A popped collar. A bit of facial hair. He can feel like this is his own body. He can take care of the body. He can lovingly groom it. He can dress in things that make him comfortable. After all, Jake is the protector and he also protects the body. I wonder how many times he’s been slammed to the front only to find the body dehydrated, unshowered, filled with alcohol, and scarred up. 

My headcanon is that Jake takes pride in taking care of the body. Once Steven is in the loop, Jake will start to shut down the staying up all night business and enforcing hydration breaks. This is how he loves. 

So why the mustache? An easy way to move further from Marc Spector’s face. Also a way to let them switch from one face to another. Comic book Jake is NOT a fan of Marc. The only one that dislikes Marc more is Marc. So Marc wears the mask to hide. A way for him to pull on his own identity. 

The comics have been all over the place about the relationship between the three. Understandings, alliances, arguments, and attempted takeovers. But one thing they have always agreed on is that they each have their own autonomy. 

Jake might even have body dysmorphia. Honestly, Marc might have it as well, but for different reasons and in different ways. Jake sees himself in his headspace and when he is looking at the body, it doesn’t quite line up. So he is going to do his best to feel comfortable in the skin he is given. Marc’s problem is that he can only see the bad in himself when he looks at the body and does what he can not to see the body at all. 

Have you ever stared at your reflection and thought, “This isn’t what I’m supposed to look like?” It’s a surprisingly common thing. It’s also quite common in autistic individuals. 

So going back to the show, Jake’s sense of style is SO different from the other two that it’s easy to see him trying desperately to find a way to feel at home in his own skin. The gloves, the jacket, the hat, the collar. It isn’t just about style, though that helps. Jake is making his own image and doing his best to look in the mirror and see himself. 

I feel like I’m being less coherant than normal (which is saying something). So I’ll probably come back to the body dysmorphia thing at a later time if people think there might be something more to it to explore. 

In the mean time, appreciate that lovely ‘stasch. Let Jake have his moment in the cab carefully putting it on his face and lining it up perfectly. He’s Jake Lockley, new york cabbie with a heart of gold and a fist of steel. 

[niccymo]

The ‘Spice of Life’✨ Legacy Challenge

Sometimes playing the sims can get a little stale, and somewhat repetitive, especially The Sims 4. I know I can get stuck playing the same stories over and over again, so I decided to create this challenge to add a little excitement and variety to my, and hopefully your, game-play!

After all, variety is the spice of life!

Gen 1: The Wild Child

You’re a sim who loves to get down, go on adventures and spend time with other sims! You can be a bit of a handful for some sims, but that’s okay! You’ve been wild since the day you were born and you wouldn’t want to be any other way. You have about a million things you want to do in your life time and you’re gonna do them all!

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals

Traits: Dance Machine, Adventurous, Outgoing

Generation rules / goals:

Join the secret agent career and get to the top of it before your sim becomes an elder

Once your sim is an elder have them start a new job, keep them on their toes!

Complete the Friend of the Animals aspiration

Master the Dance & Pet training skills throughout your sims lifetime

Have five animals in your sims house-hold at one time (these should be cats, dogs, raccoon, foxes, etc.) - you don’t always have to have five but you should at some point

Have you sim have at least 10 friends and having a falling out with one of them and become enemies

Have a best-friend that is NOT your partner / spouse

Have your sim go out at least once every weekend to either the club, the bar or somewhere else they can dance! They’re a dance machine remember!

Your sim can have as many children as you like, but keep in mind that they have a lot of animals in the house

You must have at least one child in order for them to become heir, they can be adopted or biological, it doesn’t matter!

Go on at least two family vacations, one of these must be to Mt. Komorebi

Have your sim be a very relaxed parent, no rules, no pressure to get good grades, etc. (Parenthood is needed for this but if you don’t have it that’s okay just do your best without it!) 

Gen 2: The Money Maker

Your parent was the coolest! but you always wished there was more structure in your life. You’re a perfectionist, and truth be told a little materialistic, but that doesn’t make you a bad person! You love to hangout with friends, playing video games and chatting about the latest Sci-Fi movies. From the time you were a child you knew you wanted the best things in life and were determined to work your butt off to get them! 

Aspiration: Mansion Baron

Traits: Perfectionist, Geek, Materialistic

Generation rules / goals:

Have your sim start working as a teenager to save up for their future house

Complete the Mansion Baron inspiration

Reach the max level of the Business Career in either the Investor or Management branch (although the Investor branch makes a bit more money!)

Master the video gaming skill throughout your sims lifetime

Have your sim start their own club once in their teens with ‘Play video games’ as the main activity. Keep this club going throughout your sims life and try to have a club meeting once a week 

Make your sim go to GeekCon whenever they can, once they have kids bring them along as well!

Have a hobby that can make you money - kind of like a side job. Whatever skill you choose (painting, flower arranging, etc.) master it

Once your sim completes their Mansion Baron aspiration have dinner parties once a week - Your sim is materialistic and they want to show off the nice house they’ve worked so hard for!

Once your sim becomes an elder have them retire and focus only on hobbies and relaxation (only once they’re reached the max level in their career though)

Gen 3: The Tree Hugger

You grew up in a wealthy household with pretty much everything you could have wanted. You had a great childhood and your admired your parents work ethic, although you knew that when you grew up you wanted to do something more meaningful for the world than investing. So you packed up your bags as soon as you hit young adulthood and moved to Evergreen Harbour

Aspiration: Eco Innovator

Traits: Green Fiend, Vegetarian, Good

Generation rules / goals:

Your sim should be a vegetarian as soon as they hit their teenage years

As a teen your sims should also start their own garden and begin working on their gardening skill

Your sim should complete the Eco Innovator aspiration within their lifetime

Master the Gardening skill throughout your sims lifetime

Master the Juice Fizzing skill throughout your sims lifetime

Join and reach the max level of the Civil Designer career

Your sim should live as sustainably as possible for this generation, this includes owning a bee box, having a dew collector and recycling with the home recycling machine

Have your sim marry someone as Eco-friendly as you bonus points if it’s Knox lol

Have an at home, eco friendly wedding in your sims backyard / yard. Having the wedding cake be a honey cake, get creative with it!

Adopt an animal that’s not a typical pet (raccoon, fox, etc.) your sim found this little buddy while dumpster diving and bonded instantly

Gen 4: The Undecided

You grew up with a parent and grandparent who accomplished great things; they were sims who worked hard and stuck to their guns. You have always been..well a bit different. You can’t even decide what you want for breakfast, let alone pick a career or spouse. This makes you jealous of others like your parent and grandparent who you believe have their life together.

Aspiration: You must change your sims aspiration 3 times during their life but never complete one, not even their childhood one.

Traits: Non-committal, Jealous, Erratic

Generation rules / goals: 

Join and quit scouts as a kid; get about halfway through before you quit

Have your sim join at least two jobs as a teenager. They can join and quit more if you like

Get your sim to level 5 of at least three skill during their lifetime before they quit those as well

Change your sims career multiple times, making sure they never reach the top of any career

Get your sim married, and divorced...twice. It’s up to you whether you sim ends up finding someone to stay with. However, your sim must have only have one child from all of their relationships.

Have your sim have an affair during one of their relationships. It’s up to you whether the partner finds out about this or not

Your sim must lose their relationship with the Gen 3 sim (their parent) after a big fight over Gen 4′s jealousy issue. Your sim should never speak to that parent again

Your sim must never be best friends or true lovers with anyone; they are non-committal and that means no matter how much they care for another sim they feel somewhat unsure about every relationship

Gen 5: The Vampire Groupie

Your childhood was less than ideal, although your parent loved you they had a lot of their own problems and that left you pretty lonely at times. Your solace was a particular vampire movie about a sim who falls in love with a vampire. “That could be me,” you though, “That WILL be me.” So when you become a young adult you take everything you have and leave in search of your dream life in Forgotten Hollow, the only problem with your plan is that you’re just a bit squeamish... okay a lot

Aspiration: Master Vampire

Traits: Romantic, Family Oriented, Squeamish 

Generation rules / goals: 

Your sim should watch a lot of movies as a child and teen. Of course your sim loves that particular vampire movie that definitely doesn’t rhyme with Highlight, but really they love all movies

As soon as your sim becomes a young adult move them into Forgotten Hollow

Meet and start a relationship with a vampire of your choice; you can put a sim from the gallery in your game or date Caleb Vatore, Lilith Vatore, or even Vlad Straud if you want!

I think this goes without saying but your sim should be turned into a vampire for this generation lol

Complete the Master Vampire Aspiration

You can have any career for this generation, it doesn’t matter!

Master the Vampire Lore skill throughout your sims lifetime

Master the Pipe Organ skill throughout your sims lifetime

Start a ‘Vampire Club’ with only other vampires present, you can use this club to do any kind of vampire activity - however, since you left your old life behind, these sims are your only friends

Your sim is squeamish so they personally choose not to drink other sims blood unless absolutely necessary, this means your sim must grow and sustain a garden full of plasma plants

Once your sim obtains a plasma fruit (and two garlic) they can prepare a Sunlight Reversal Cocktail if they like, that way they can go into the sun during the day; this isn’t required though

Your sim must have at least three kids. One of these children should NOT be a vampire. This will be the heir. If all of your children are born vampires you can use a mods to make them human. I recommend MC Command Center, which you can find here: https://deaderpool-mccc.com/#/releases

I also recommend this mod: https://modthesims.info/d/589300/child-vampire-manifestation-v1-9.html which basically makes it so that child vampires can perform any vampire actions, just like teens, young adults, etc.

Gen 6: The Beach Bum

Your parents are absolutely wonderful, but are weird. In fact, you’re convinced that you’re the only sane one out of your whole family. You love them but who in the right mind would want to live the life of a vampire? You knew early on that the vampire life was not for you, and thank goodness you just so happened to be the only sibling born human! I guess you can thank those recessive genes. You want to live the Beach Life, spending your days out in the sun and working to conserve the beautiful island of Sulani!

Aspiration: Beach Life

Traits: Child of the Ocean, Loves the Outdoors, Free Trait / You can pick your sims third trait!

Generation rules / goals:

Your sim must move to Sulani as a young adult and spend their whole life there

Reach the max level of the Conservationist Career

Complete the Beach Life aspiration

Befriend as least one mermaid - your sim can become a mermaid to if they want but it’s not necessary

Marry someone who already lives on Sulani as well

Have your sim live in a house on the beach at least once during your their life

Complete the sea shell collection

Spend ALOT of time outside; fish, ski-do, tan on the beach - your sim loves the outdoors and the Sulani sun, anything they can do outside they will

Keep a close relationship between your sim and their parents & siblings - even though they don’t love the vampire life they love their family

Gen 7: The Tinkerer

You’ve always been a homebody, hanging out in your house on the computer and tinkering with things in the home. Your parent was always nagging you to go outside and play as a kid. As soon as you were old enough to hold a wrench you were fixing things. You knew when you became a young adult you wanted to go to Foxbury Institute and learn to program and create robots!

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Traits: Genius, The other two traits can be anything you choose!

Generation rules / goals:

* For this generation I ABSOLUTELY recommend this mod which shortens university. It just makes it sooo much easier to complete a degree: https://modthesims.info/d/646803/shorter-university-degrees.html *

Your sim should spend a lot of time inside as a kid, using the computer, reading books, playing video games

Have your sim complete the Whiz Kid aspiration as a child

Master the Logic skill throughout your sims lifetime

Master the Robotics skill throughout your sims lifetime

Master the Handiness skill throughout your sims lifetime

Once your sim becomes a teenager they should be the one who fixes ANYTHING broken within the household

In order for your sim to attend Foxbury Institute for a Computer Science degree your sim must have certain skills (such as computer programming, robotics, etc.) since it is a distinguished degree. You’ll need to work on these skills as a teen to have a chance to be excepted there. If you don’t feel like having your sim work on those skills as a teen your sim can attend Britechester University but they should still work on the robotics skill!

Complete the Computer Whiz aspiration

Graduate university with a degree in Computer Science

Live in a modern style house in any world

Gen 8: The Believer

Your parent has always been a technological genius, creating artificial intelligence. But you’ve always known that science wasn’t needed for there to be fantastical things in this world. No one else in your family believes your crazy ideas about alien but hey, you once heard that your great grandparents were vampires, so it could be possible! Sure you’re a little erratic but you’re determined to prove the existence of aliens, and befriend them. How will you do this? Well by becoming an iron pumping, rocket building astronaut of course!

Aspiration: Bodybuilder

Traits: Athletic, Self-Assured, You can pick your sims third trait!

Generation rules / goals:

You sim must join and reach the top of the Astronaut career

Your sim must live in Oasis Springs

Have your sim complete the Body Builder aspiration - astronauts have to be strong after all!

Master the Rocket Science skill

Your sim will unlock a rocket when they reach level 10 of their career (the rocket can either be the Apollo Rocket - unlocked though the Space Ranger branch of the astronaut career, or the Retro Rocket - unlocked through the Interstellar Smuggler branch. You can choose which rocket you want)  but honestly who wants to wait for that, so as soon as your sim gets to level 5 of their career use cheats to unlock the rocket and start building!

Once your sim has completed their rocket you must level up their Rocket Science skill to level 10 and then install the Wormhole Generator upgrade. This will allow you to travel to Sixam and meet aliens!

Your sim must befriend and marry an alien they meet on Sixam. If you don’t like that particular alien you can either come back to Sixam or open CAS and edit them, either is fine.

Have your sim have a baby with their new alien spouse. Only have ONE baby.

If your sims baby is born NOT an alien you can use cheats to make them one. MC Command Center can be used for this and is linked above for Generation 5

Gen 9: The Star of Sixam

You’re an alien and you’ve proud of it! You loved listening to your alien parent tell stories of your home world and knew that when you grew up you wanted to make your relatives on Sixam proud. The best way to do this is of course to become the most famous alien musician the Sim world has ever seen!

Aspiration: Musical Genius

Traits: Self-Assured, Perfectionist, Music Lover

Generation rules / goals: 

Your sim must NEVER wear their disguise unless absolutely necessary - they are very proud to be an alien and they don’t see any reason to hide that

As a child your sim should complete the Artistic Prodigy aspiration

Master the Violin skill throughout your sims lifetime

Master the Piano skill throughout your sims lifetime

Your can have your sim master the Singing skill throughout their lifetime if you want, but it isn’t necessary

When your sim becomes a young adult move them to San Myshuno, where their musical dreams can really take off!

Have your sim busk for money in San Myshuno at least 5 times

Have your sim reach the max level in the Musician branch of the Entertainer career

Your sim should marry or be with someone who is also musically interested - you can enter CAS and cheat this or create your sims partner

It doesn't matter how many children your sim has for this generation, but the heir should NOT be an alien - you can use MC Command Center to make them human if you need to

Gen 10: The Apprehensive Actress / Actor  AKA the Final Generation!

You grew up in a VERY artistic household, with parents who were both interested in music and one parent who made a huge career of it. You love acting and knew your parent was ecstatic when you started showing interest in acting as a teen. Unfortunately you don’t really like the idea of being famous...

Aspiration: Master Actress / Actor

Traits: Loner, Good, Creative

Generation rules / goals:

Your sim is an artistic child, however we aren’t gonna worry about completing the Artistic Prodigy aspiration as a child because we did that last generation - you can do it if you want though!

When your sim becomes a teen they should begin working on their acting skills

Your sim should reach the max level of the Acting career

Have your sim master the Acting skill

Your sim should marry someone non-famous in a private ceremony with only those sims (or family and close friends if you like) present

Your sim should maintain as good a reputation as possible - they are still a good sim, they are just a bit anti-social

Once your sim finished the acting career and has achieved the Global Superstar rank they should retire

Your sim, now retired from acting moves to one of two lots in Brindleton Bay that have NO neighbours

They should spend the rest of their life making money off of artistic projects such as knitting, painting, etc.

Have your sim leave the house only when necessary to avoid the paparazzi, and if they do go out they must wear a disguise

Your sims spouse can have any career, but they should NOT be famous in anyway

It is up to you whether you decide to have your sim have children and continue the family :)

Well we’ve come to the end of the challenge!! I just wanted to say if you decide to play this challenge or even have taken the time to read it, THANK YOU SO MUCH! It means the world to me to be apart of this sims community ❤️

If you decide to play this challenge on your tumblr pleaseee use the tags #spicechallenge or #spice of life challenge. That way I can see what you do with this challenge, that would be amazing 😊❤️