#kid is lucky af he survived

[dinaanana]

School!Au Hcs For Chuuya And Dazai

What kinda students would They Be

Chuuya and Dazai x Reader (Can be either Romantic Or Platonic You decide)

Yr 10

The Type of Mf the whole School Knows,Also the type mf to have a beef with almost every teacher

is smart asf But Acts dumb,Is either Annoying Chuuya on lunch breaks or you

Never participates In P.E just sits there gossiping with the girls that know the whole schools history And Drama

Cheers for you And Chuuya when y'all play something.like volleyball Football etc

The type of mf to have like 10 girlfriends At the same tim

That one guy who carries His Nokia at school That survived WW1 and WW2 and plays Candy crash or sm else,He claims that the teachers are yapping so much that his head hurts

Type of Mf to Throw Some little peace of papers at you so you Give him attention aswell and gossip with him

The type Dude To gasp out so loud when u tell him something in class When there quiet.

The type of Mf to Tell you that the bandages he wears every day are for aesthetic (he never Changes them)

Gets A+ on tests Without even studying

that one Guy Who always asks you for a pen (he never gives them Back)

That one guy That sits Infront of you and lays there head on ur desk

The type to argue with teachers every day

Year 10

That one Short but Athletic ass Kid whose rich

Loves P.E And is really Good at them,if you're on same team as him damn you Lucky

That one Wannabe Gangsta Kid Tbh,Who always gets in Fights (No one is Surprised anymore its normal)

Always in Detention or at Principals Office

Surprisingly Has good grades Like dude How.

Carries Like 10 Spare pens But Gives it To No one Except you (Dazai's steals Them)

That one Loud ass Mf who don't Know What quiet Whispering is,The teacher Doesn't say anything it ain't gonna Change nothing

That one Kid That shortens His sentaces like "Ain't ya" "Dont Cha"" and etc

Is in some Type Weird Gangsta group that Call Themselves the "Sheep"

Smokes in Boys Bathroom everytime Hes bored tbh

(no one Dares to tell the teachers)

He Hates Sitting With Dazai When They're Paired Up Togather,Anyone but that guy.

Everyone made Fun Of him For being A Ginger Until he snapped. And Sent them to Hospital with severe Injuries

You gossip With but He Acts Like he doesn't give af (He does)

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (153-154)

The Blanket War.

If you'd like to follow along, the series page is here.

153. Wage(r)s of War

If Jared knew the blanket was going to turn into a whole thing, he probably would not have stolen it.

Scratch probably: Jared definitely wouldn’t have stolen it. Even though it wasn’t really stealing, since it was originally his, and he never told his parents they could give it away to someone else. That’s not theft, that’s like — rightful ownership. Jared is the rightful owner of the blanket.

But still.

Jared’s saying this when it’s just a thing and not even a Thing yet.

Especially since the Canucks put two and two together, and are now giving Jared copious amounts of shit for losing his blanket to an Oiler not once but twice.

“As if you had nothing to do with us losing those games,” Jared says.

In hindsight, he probably should not have said that to his goaltender, but he still thinks volunteering him for the children’s hospital Halloween trip is unfair.

I applauded Jared’s survival instinct last time, but it’s terrible and Jared’s lucky his penance is ‘cheer up children’ and not ‘be murdered by goaltender’, frankly.

“I know,” Jared says, and irritably adjusts his eye patch. He’s supposed to be colouring, but he can’t see properly with it on, and he keeps colouring outside the lines just a bit, which is infuriating. He can’t take it off, though, because the one time he did Gabe said he looked like a hipster French stereotype, and when Gabe insults you it’s hard not to take it to heart.

I wrote this after having personally experienced eye patch-hood post surgery the first. Definitely fucks with your field of vision and your depth perception, among other things. The cool thing is it makes you look like a pirate, though!

Jared knew he shouldn’t have listened to Bryce about the striped shirt being pirate-y.

Striped shirts are very dependent on accessorizing. Eye patch? Pirate. Beret? Old school Parisian stereotype.

Bryce brought out the sling for the hospital, over a lazy cowboy costume made entirely out of shit in Bryce’s closet from his Flames days. He hasn’t strictly needed to wear it for awhile, but the kids all gravitate to Bryce, asking about it. The third time a child under the age of six solemnly told Bryce to get better soon Jared had to excuse himself and find Dmitry until he was comfortably annoyed again.

Jared carefully talking around things so he doesn’t use the word ‘adorable’. And this is a smart AF move by Bryce, who understands that kids will want to talk to someone they perceive as similar to them in that way. He truly does love kids, and he gets them too. (Don’t say it, Jared.)

“Look, J,” Bryce says delightedly. “The kids all signed my sling.”

His sling is an absolute mess of Sharpie. Though frankly the signatures of children aren’t significantly worse than the signatures of hockey players, so it’s no worse than some casts that got signed today.

Jared grunts.

Adorable.

“Are you still mad about the stripes?” Bryce says.

Jared grunts again.

“I like your moustache,” Bryce says.

Two kids, both named Logan, were very insistent that pirates had to have moustaches, and he couldn’t think of a counterpoint, so now he has a moustache.

Jared, you fool, don't listen to the Logans, that's not pirates. A skinny pencil moustache stereotypically belongs to…

Now he looks like a dude who had a kid scribble all over his face instead of a French hipster, at least. He takes the eye patch off.

“Bonjour, Mathématiques,” Gabe says as he comes up behind them. “Très belle moustache.”

THE FRENCH!!!

Also shoutout to Gabe for translating Jared’s nickname for the occasion.

And however much it sucks for him, he knows it’s way worse for Bryce. He’ll never say it aloud, but he was kind of grateful when Gavin got injured and flew home halfway through the trip, because he came over to their place during games and kept Bryce company.

Jared appreciates Gavin’s sacrifice. Gavin not so much.

That had been Elaine’s job, but Jared’s pretty sure she handed over the duty to Gavin without an ounce of regret. Even she has limits. At least, Jared assumes she does? He’s never seen her reach them, but they have to exist.

Bryce’s DWI. That was her limit. She had never been angrier at Bryce than that day, and never will be again.

“Wait, is that Oilers game tape?” Bryce asks.

“If we lose this game Julius is going to keep holding my blanket hostage,” Jared says. “So we can’t lose.”

Bryce is a little concerned about his husband’s sanity right now.

“Babe,” Bryce says. “It’s not your blanket anymore, you know that, right? He’s not holding it hostage, he just has like, custody of it. It’s a bet blanket now.”

“It’s my bet blanket,” Jared says. “That I’m going to win. And refuse to give back, even if we lose.”

Bryce gives him an almost comically disappointed look. “That’s not how bets work, J.”

You can’t break the terms of the bet. That’s low. Bryce is judging you.

“It’s a bet blanket now,” Bryce says gently.

“I know it is,” Jared mutters. He would give it back if the Canucks lost. Probably. The important thing is to never lose to the Oilers again so that it isn’t relevant.

“Is this a weird thing you have to do by yourself?” Bryce asks. “Or can I watch the Oilers in the dark too?”

Bryce is truly such a great guy. How did Jared get so lucky.

“You should see who’s at the door,” Bryce says, in the worst casual voice ever.

“If you got me a singing valentine or some shit—“ Jared says. It’s nowhere near Valentine’s, but that’s hardly something that would stop Bryce.

Fair.

“Let me in!” comes from the hall, and Jared’s blood goes cold.

“Why is there a demon at our door?” Jared hisses.

Bryce has the audacity to roll his eyes and get up himself.

Do demons have to be invited in or is that just vampires?

“Yeah, a ninety minute flight is like, a crazy long trip,” Erin says, shoving a bag off one of the stools around the island in their kitchen before sitting down. Jared thinks that might be the first time someone’s sat there since the day they moved in. The couch is for eating when they’re not hosting, and they don’t really host — well, ever. Unless Gavin counts, but Jared has doubts. And Elaine’s Elaine.

“Oh sick, I was looking for that everywhere,” Bryce says.

They do often drink coffee at the island, but that’s a leaning on the counter sort of situation. The stools aren't actually all that comfortable, and rather than, oh, get other ones, they just sort of...avoid them.

Jared squints at her. “You’re just in Vancouver because Julius is.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Erin says. “And I should be ashamed of myself, considering the incredible welcome I’m receiving from you.”

Erin is experiencing such hospitality.

Bryce hipchecks his way past Jared to give Erin another hug. “Jared’s just jet lagged and grumpy,” he says. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

But unironically, in the case of Bryce. This is why he’s her favourite brother.

Jared will not quit glaring, but he does take a seat, after displacing a sweater that has probably been there since last spring.

“Hey, I was looking for that too,” Bryce says delightedly.

Bryce gets to see Erin AND recovers objects he thought were lost forever? Today’s so great.

“Yes please,” Erin says. “You’re going to give me a complex if you keep looking at me like that, Jared.”

“Good,” Jared says, but hauls her in for a one-armed hug, releasing her before Bryce turns away from the fridge. The last thing Jared wants to do is give him the impression that inviting Erin to visit is acceptable behaviour.

Yeah, can’t show weakness by…letting your husband see you hug your sister?

“Oh man,” Erin says, somehow reading Jared’s mind, which he hates that she can still do. “Do you think I can meet Stephen while I’m here?”

“No,” Jared says flatly. He will do everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He fears he’ll learn firsthand how it feels to be a middle child if he does.

That’s exactly what Erin’s hoping for.

“I can ask Gabe if they’re free after the game tomorrow,” Bryce says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Jared digs his fingers into Bryce’s knee under the table.

“I’m asking,” Bryce says, not even bothering to look injured.

It’s cute that you think you can stop him.

She’s presumably staying with Julius tonight, but the Oilers have to be flying out right after the game tomorrow, since they’ve got a matinee against the Golden Seals on Sunday. He’s unsure Bryce is willing to give up his sulking room before he returns to game shape. Or possibly ever. He likes a good sulk. Jared doesn’t even think he’s sulking in there all the time, has pivoted to watching shitty TV without Jared’s judgment and facetiming Maia. At least Jared hopes that’s what the ‘Bryce talking to a baby’ voice is about.

That is precisely what Bryce is using the sulking room for now. Bad TV and video chats. Also naps sometimes.

“Elaine insisted I stay with her,” Erin says. “We’re having a girl’s day on Sunday, then she’s taking me to the airport.”

Of course Elaine did. Of course they are.

Elaine always wanted a daughter too, she is as thrilled to spoil Erin as Bryce is.

Bryce looks up from his phone. “Can I come for girl’s day?”

“Duh,” Erin says.

“Sick,” Bryce says.

“I don’t want to come for girl’s day,” Jared says. “For the record.”

“We know,” Bryce says, over Erin’s snort.

Nobody even invited you.

154. The Spoils

“Halla,” Jared says. “We meet again.”

I do have some series where in media res isn’t out of place, but Jared isn’t one of them, so this is a bit of a shake up. I just really wanted a tight focus mano-a-mano standoff that is entirely undermined by the fact it’s over a fucking blanket.

“You better have brought the blanket,” Jared says.

“I did,” Julius says. “It made for very comfortable naps on the plane. It is a good blanket.”

“Your next plane nap is going to suck,” Jared says.

“Maybe,” Julius says. “Or maybe it will be a victory nap.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Jared says. “Victory nap?”

“Want to talk trash in Finnish instead?” Julius asks.

First point goes to Halla.

“Are you guys almost done with that trash talking?” Rogers asks. “You’re kind of blocking the locker room.”

“Shit, sorry,” Jared says, and he and Julius scoot out of the way to let Rogers through.

Also it starting with a tight focus on them facing off means I can introduce details later, like the fact they’re standing right in front of the visitors room, blocking everybody.

“Nice to see you, Jared,” Rogers says.

“Yeah, you too, Darryl,” Jared says, accepting the shoulder clap from Rogers, the loose hug from Morris as he follows Rogers into the locker room.

Love you Roge, love you Benny.

“I’m gonna—“ Jared says, pausing while yet another Oiler nudges past them into the room.

How dare everyone undermine the dignity of this blanket fight by using the visitors room for its intended purpose.

“I have practice. Enjoy losing tonight.”

“No one enjoys losing,” Julius says.

“Obviously,” Jared says. “It’s a saying. It’s like—“

Julius blinks at him.

“It’s just a thing you say,” Jared says. “Precisely because nobody enjoys losing.”

Julius continues to blink at him.

“Are you fucking with me?” Jared asks.

I love when Julius uses his natural poker face for evil.

“I told Coach your sister is in town,” Gabe says when Jared gets onto the ice, surprised he didn’t get yelled at for showing up to practice ten minutes late. Coach is fine if you run late, but only if you let him know in advance, and Jared’s side-trip was due to a slightly deranged whim when he saw Oilers leaving the ice after their own practice.

Slightly?

Also look at Gabe, making excuses for Jared (not lying though! He said only facts. Gabe draws the line at lying in most situations.)

“Had a meeting with some Oilers,” Jared says.

“You know, anyone else I’d assume that was a euphemism for catching up with old friends,” Gabe says. “But not you.”

“Thank you,” Jared says.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Gabe says after a moment.

Jared is aware. Still thankful, though.

Better to be known as ridiculous than as friendly, says Jared. Am I right?

(Julius is with him.)

“Julius,” Jared calls.

Julius pretends not to hear him.

I love that Jared has stooped to ‘pay attention to me!’.

No Erin. Jared guesses she doesn’t need to swarm the glass to see him, but he was curious what jersey she’d be wearing. Presumably Oilers, but Jared wouldn’t put it past her to wear a Matheson Oilers jersey to piss both him and Julius off.

I also love that Jared knows his sister just as well as she knows him. That is exactly what she’s wearing. Nobody knows who she's cheering for.

“I’m busy,” Julius says. “We already talked trash. Now I am warming up.”

Jared sputters. “I’m not done.”

Julius starts skating away. Backwards, to be extra annoying.

“I’m not done, Julius!” Jared says.

Julius waves goodbye, then turns around and skates over to the Julius Halla Fan Club by the net, grabbing a puck and flipping it to a kid holding a sign.

Another point to Halla.

Jared eyes the red line.

“Don’t do it, Math,” Gabe says, suddenly hovering at his shoulder, like he sensed trouble.

“Ugh,” Jared says, and goes to practice shooting until he isn’t so tempted to hip check Julius right into the Oilers bench.

Point to Markson.

“You’re welcome for the stupid blanket,” Ridley says when when Jared reaches him in the goalie appreciation line.

AKA the ‘hug your goalie line’.

Jared receives a text from Julius letting him know that Erin will be facilitating the blanket hand off, since the Oilers are headed straight to the airport. He’d prefer if it came directly from Julius, but post-game travel nights are what they are — the absolute worst, especially after losses — and that’s before you include the wrinkle of his girlfriend being in town. Jared isn’t petty enough to demand Julius carve out some of his very limited remaining time in Vancouver for the hand off. He probably would be, honestly, except he still remembers how hard it was for him and Bryce to work around competing hockey schedules.

Point for Matheson, but I refuse to indicate which.

“Sting a little to hand it over?” Jared asks smugly, taking the blanket from her. He squints at her outfit: no Canucks jersey, but no Oilers jersey either. A sweater Jared vaguely recognises as one Bryce got her for Christmas a few years back. Bryce clearly recognises it too — he looks pleased.

Erin’s no longer repping either side. Only Bryce’s.

“Dad owes me a dinner of my choice,” Erin says.

“Dad owes — of course he does,” Jared says.

“Some people don’t put their family first,” Erin says. “But I do, Jared. I do.”

“How would Julius feel if he knew you were betting against him?” Jared asks.

“He’s eaten dad’s food before,” Erin says with a shrug. “And I promised a cut of the spoils, obviously. I’m cashing in on a Battle of Alberta night. Julius wants salmon.”

Julius figures if he loses the game, he may as well get a good homecooked meal out of it.

“He knows, then,” Jared says.

Of course she didn’t accidentally give Jared leverage. She would never make such a rookie mistake.

Never underestimate the master.

“Is that Stephen?” Erin says, sitting straighter. “That’s Gabe, so that’s definitely Stephen.”

She has been waiting for this moment since the first time Jared referred to him as ‘the worst person I have ever met’ in a complimentary tone.

She stands up, smoothing her sweater out like she doesn’t want to appear wrinkled in Stephen’s presence. Which is the right call, honestly. Stephen is a very judgmental person.

She hopes to collaborate with Stephen in being mean to Jared, and first impressions are very important.

“Littlest Matheson,” Stephen says, as he arrives at the table. “We finally meet.”

“Jared’s tormentor,” Erin says. “I’ve heard so many terrible things about you.”

Stephen holds his arms out, and Erin walks right into them.

“Neither of you are huggers!” Jared says. “Like, at all!”

They’ll make an exception for co-conspirators.

He tries to make longsuffering eye contact with Gabe, but Gabe just grins back at him.

Stephen has also been waiting for this moment. Gabe is enjoying his enthusiasm.

“It’s like having another sister,” Stephen says over Erin’s head. “But not terrible because she’s not mine.”

He understands Gabe’s affection for his sisters a little better. Not WELL, but better.

Jared is going to meet Stephen’s sisters, and he is going to befriend them for the sole purpose of gaining blackmail material about Stephen, of which he’s sure there is plenty, and then Stephen will regret this day.

Jared keeping things in perspective while he silently plots his revenge.

But right now Jared appears to be the only one regretting this day. Everybody else appears to be having a great time.

I am included in everybody else.

“Stop hugging each other!” Jared says, then, “No, don’t — this is not a group hug moment, Erin! Stephen! Get off of me!”

The collaboration begins.

“Delete that footage,” Jared says, then, “Seriously, Bryce?”

“I’m just sending it to my mom,” Bryce protests.

So, reminder that this video makes it to social media, and that the ‘seriously, Bryce?’ is used as supporting evidence that Bryce and Jared are married, because Jared is using a 'you are exasperating me' voice that is not exactly bros.

Elaine appreciates the video very much.

“Everybody but Bryce, delete it,” Jared says, though he doesn’t have much hope he’ll be obeyed, and even less hope it won’t end up online somewhere. He’s sure that’s exactly the sort of thing the Canucks social media team would love to get their hands on. He’s sure that the more undignified he looks, the more they’d want it. And he suspects he looked extremely undignified.

Every single one of Jared’s assumptions is correct. Especially the last one.

Erin posts a few pictures that end up on the internet when she gets home — or, Jared guesses, the wider internet, not just Erin’s followers on Instagram.

Considering Erin is dating the Oilers star forward, sister of his former liney, and 'practically sister' of the Canucks star forward, naturally she has plenty of followers from the hockey world. And naturally people enjoy pictures of Jared looking like he’s suffering greatly while getting hugged by his sister and someone many misidentify as Julius.

“I don’t know who she was cheering for, but she bet on the Canucks,” Jared says, then internally winces, because with the way the internet twists everything, that’ll turn into some ‘Erin Matheson is a disloyal girlfriend’ storyline. Jared hates twitter. And crap, add a possible ‘player’s girlfriend is betting on hockey games!’, now that Jared’s thinking about it.

“Just a bet she had with my dad,” he adds hastily. If dad gets some ‘Don Matheson is a disloyal dad’ he deserves it.

Good on Jared catching that in time, because yeah, ��disloyal girlfriend’ definitely would have been the takeaway. And disloyal dad is indeed deserved. Jared doesn’t remember his dad cheering for the Oilers when he was one.

Jared’s stupid interview gets a ton of likes, and he doesn’t even know why.

The blanket bet is a great storyline. They will both regret that.

Someone always tells him when something important happens, like the Erin and Bryce thing, and the Erin and Julius thing, and — Erin seems to be the common denominator in a lot of these.

Jared’s ignorance of his own beauty extending to all Mathesons.

Erin continues to wreak havoc by posting the video of Jared being attacked by her and Stephen the next day. Jared doesn’t know if she got it from Bryce, or Elaine, or one of the other Canucks is a traitor, but of course that gets a ton of likes too, because people on the internet also enjoy when Jared’s dignity is wounded, apparently.

It truly is enjoyable to watch Jared’s dignity suffer, can't blame 'em at all.

People also seem to think Stephen is Julius, even though he looks absolutely nothing like him, beyond also being blond and around the same height. Different build, different haircut, different everything. Also he literally says Stephen’s name in the video. Jared is so tired.

The internet has unfortunately made it quite evident just how many people go around life misinterpreting everything they see.

The sulking room is already occupied when Jared goes to use it. Bryce looks up from his phone when, expression suspiciously happy for the locale.

As I said earlier, it is now also used for watching bad TV, getting his fill of Maia (and Ashley), and naps.

“Say hi to Maia?” Bryce says, which explains everything, and Jared says some things to Maia that she surely doesn’t understand, like how big she’s gotten — it is insane how fast babies grow — and how she’s shaping up to be a Chaz mini-me, because it’s uncanny. He feels absurd the whole time, even though neither Bryce nor Ash laugh at him, though they’re both doing the thin lipped thing like they want to, but they recognise it will hurt his remaining pride.

Jared is using a baby voice. Both Bryce and Ashley know better than to alert him of that fact.

“You’re not sulking,” Jared says.

“No,” Bryce says. “Maia.”

It is extremely hard to sulk when paying attention to Maia, actually. Jared temporarily forgot why he came in the first place.

Babies are great like that.

“But this is the sulking room,” Jared says.

“Did you need to sulk?” Bryce asks.

“Yes, actually,” Jared says.

Mom says it’s my turn with the sulking room.

“I swear I didn’t give it to her,” Bryce says.

He doesn’t need to tell Jared that. Not because Jared trusts him implicitly or anything — Erin is very good at manipulating Bryce into doing what she wants — but because he’s realised that Bryce was sitting at a completely different angle than the video was taken from. It was either Stevie or Dmitry. Jared suspects the latter for obvious reasons.

Why do you doubt Dmitry like this? What has he ever done to deserve this?

(Yes it was Dmitry.)

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” Bryce says, then heads out of the room, returning after a minute carrying the blanket under his arm.

And he is correct.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jared says, then, “Come nap with me,” and the least sulky nap ever to happen in the sulking room is officially underway.

Julius was right: it is an excellent blanket for victory naps.

The spoils of victory.

[niredsw]

so uhhh im bored af and i feel like i should make people know about this not that i think anyone cares about my life but here ya go rin lore everyone!

TW: mention of abuse, rape, and a lot of religious trauma

i apologize for the spelling mistakes from the start, i wont care about them rn

so yeah, lets start with my parents

mom: she grew up in a toxic abusive religious household where my grandpa was rarely home, she was the middle child of 4 siblings (the smallest ones are twins) and was literally the 'only good child of the pack'. my big aunt cant even take care of herself and she has 2 chlidren, she recently divorced her husband and is on the way of becoming an alcoholic. my uncle was praised by my grandma his entire life because he is 'the only son' and is nothing but a spoiled brat whos children are also problematic af. my little aunt is the only one i love and she has a daughter (deniz, my fav cousin) and an adopted daughter from her husbands ex-marriage, shes sweet and i dont believe how she survived in that family.

grandma, shes the worst. one day mom and her sibling were all in my big aunts house and i was sitting with them, they talked about how grandma beat them up daily because of the smallest things, the clothes she hang up to dry didnt dry on time? she beat up one of her kids (not my uncle, if i may add) i was terrified when i heard that about her and im not seeing her the same anymore. mom got married at 21 just to escape from that house and she ended up being the only child thats living in the same city as grandma. grandma also manipulated me my whole childhood, telling me i should be a good muslim and get hijabed at 12 when i first got my period, teaching me things most muslim people didnt even know their whole life when i was only 7, telling me men are always right and i should just obey what they say yada yada ya, she still treats me like her personal servant and keeps telling thing like "you look like a whore in that shorts" and shit, idc anymore but growing up with it is not very helpful tbh

so, mom beating me up when shes angry is not because shes abusive, its the only way she learned and shes not strong enough to break the cycle, so dont get angry at her its not her fault

dad: tbh i dont know if dad had gone throught anything like mom but his family is full of relative marriages and his uncle (whos 64) has a child as my age, she went to a mental asylum because of her father and just got out a few days ago, if i may add, his uncles suck but my grandma is the only normal one (and the only, oldest girl) among 5 siblings so i think thats pretty lucky, but growing up in a neighbourhood full of those kind of people definitely affected him and it shows over the years

yea well now its my time i guess

i was a bad child. i did some bad things. i swear i did it all for fun and it meant nothing

OKAY sorry sorry this is not it im not jojo siwa in a disguise (or i am?)

so, i had a pretty good childhood, if you ignore all of these things;

my family went in a hella dept because of my uncle (i told you hes a piece of shit) and we were always very careful with money, my parents tried to make it up to me and my sis with a lot of things but it did affected us

i dont know how we ended up in that debt but we sold our house and coffe shop so we could pay it, i was 8 when it all happened and i dont really remember most of it

my voice thingy and all of those health problems, i lose my hearing from time to time, have a genetical heart disease thingy, yada yada ya i am not gonna list all of them, lets just say after i was 6 i knew everyone in that hospital i was going practically 3 times a week

also i was the top student in primary school, the first one to learn how to read in my class and was practically a gifted child before i burn out but i dont care about that shit anymore im already a pretty big failure

then, we moved to my current city

4th grade was shit, my teacher didnt even care about her students, it was so easy to eb the top of my class but that school was really shitty, a pedophile teacher, who tried to rape and would do if i didnt kick his balls, a psycho kid in my sis's class that was sent to kids jail in 2nd grade, basically, shithole.

then i won a scholarship from my current school and i've been there for 5 years now, gonna start my 2nd year of highschool in a few weeks

i dont talk about middle school because that shit was crazy but also pretty boring at the same time, so yeah i think thats the rin lore? idk? nobody needs to amswer or say anything i just wanted to share it here so i dont have to explain it every time something bad happens to me

[redrobin-detective]

Side Effects of ghost powers

Hey all! I’m writing a DP fic called Side Effects exploring the physical and later mental/emotional impact of Danny initially getting his ghost powers. As an ICU stepdown nurse for 3 years, I wanted to view Danny’s accident through a slightly more realistic, medical lens. 

Note: I had to fudge a good amount because Danny really should have fucking died and there’s no getting around that.

I do recommend you read the fic first before reading this as there’s some spoilers. Or if you don’t care you can read on. So! The two factors we are looking at regarding the accident are: ecto-contamination secondary to electrocution. 

Electrocution

I was forced to downplay a lot of the severe symptoms of electrocution because, again, a bad enough shock will kill someone. My hand-wavey explanation is simply that the portal didn’t activate at a deadly voltage so he got a good shock but not enough to be fatal. I guess.

Muscle weakness/spasms: intermittent muscle spasms are common from shocks, muscles being activated by electricity and reacting to the lingering impulses. Danny’s is transient but quite annoying for a time. But his muscles are gonna be weak and achy af for days if not weeks after from the massive contractions caused by the shock and the after effects. Sensory issues: lots of things can cause nerve damage, including electrocution so Danny is experiencing some pretty severe neuropathy primarily manifesting with numbness and tingling throughout his body. His entire skin and peripheral nervous system got fried so while its mostly numb it’s also super sensitive for a bit of time causing massive pain and discomfort from your body tingling like a thousand bee stings. It’s worst in the hours after the accident but is something that never quite really goes back to normal both from the electrocution and his ghost half taking over and generally dulling his sense of touch.

Hearing/Vision loss: Like skin/nerves, your sensory organs in your eyes and ears would be affected by such a severe and allover electric shock. Danny has some blurred and occasionally double vision from his eyes not properly receiving/understanding input. Hearing loss is common following electricity given how delicate the inner ear is but I just give Danny some nasty tinnitus (ear ringing) for a bit. This inner ear problem also massively throws off his balance when he’s trying to move post accident. These factors are exacerbated by the ecto-contamination and mostly fade in the days following the accident before going away as his superhuman healing kicks in.

Heart Arrhythmia: an irregular heartbeat caused by the electrical impulses that control basal heartrate not coordinating they they should for a variety of reasons, in this case, massive electric shock. Danny would be somewhat aware of it, its not exactly painful exactly but you can just feel that your heart isn’t beating right. Secondary side effects are dizziness, chest pain, fatigue and shortness of breath. This resolves almost entirely when Danny stabilizes

Cognitive issues: Danny got his brains a little scrambled in addition to his molecules being rearranged. The first third of the story Danny is very clearly NOT thinking straight and Tucker/Sam should not have left him alone. Shocks can cause things like irrational emotional behaviors from hormone release along with memory loss and depression. He constantly waxes and wanes in mood and opinions on what to do in the story and never comes to a true decision that, damn lucky for him, worked out on its own.

Ecto-Contamination

Alright so Danny got massively shocked, sucks right but people live through that all the time. Ecto-contamination is more tricky (not only cause its made up and I had to think about what symptoms it would theoretically produce) but because the effects are more life threatening. It’s also irreversible, once he was contaminated it was only something that could be survived not cured. 

So I theorized that Danny got shocked by the accident and was slowly dying of ecto-contamination and was pretty much clinically dead for a brief moment there, the death was enough for the large quantity of ectoplasm in him to immediately coalesce into a ghost (Phantom). So Danny was mostly dead but not quite, I’ve coded and brought back enough people to know it can be reversed somewhat. Danny becomes Phantom but the sudden stable formation of the ectoplasm into what its supposed to be, a ghost, caused his body to stop fighting the ectoplasm as a foreign invader and become part of the self. His core finished forming in his chest and his body started back up again, his ghost safely nestled in his once again living body as he slowly comes to grips with his actual death experience. 

Nausea/Vomiting: I likened the idea of ecto-contamination to radiation poisoning, something that is essentially the antithesis to life. One of the first symptoms of radiation is n/v which is also why it’s one of the first overt symptoms Danny has. He was heavily electrocuted/irradiated and his body wants to expunge it all. As for the ectoplasm/blood he vomits, that’s the next section. 

Gastrointestinal (GI) Bleed: So I was a little mean here. When one vomits up blood (or in this case ectoplasm/blood mix) it has to come from somewhere and a lot of the times it’s a GI Bleed. These are nasty, they need to be either cauterized or surgically repaired not to mention replenishing the blood lost. Fanon says that ectoplasm is at least mildly corrosive to humans so it is here, as it’s bonding to him, it’s literally eating him very slowly from the inside out which is causing a great deal of his internal pain. It’s not enough to be immediately life threatening but would kill him eventually. He developed some nasty bleeding ulcers in his stomach which let in blood and ectoplasm which were expunged. Danny’s core formed overnight and began healing the damage it had previously been causing but Dan is still gonna be vomiting excess blood/ectoplasm not to mention having black, tarry stools for at least a few days afterwards.

Hypothermia/Tremors: Hypothermia is when the body hits 95F/35C which Danny is just above at the start of the chapter. Danny initially starts shaking really bad (rigors) but as his body temperature cools further his shaking slows and eventually stops, a sure sign that the body is rapidly losing the fight to hypothermia and will likely die soon without immediate intervention. This is caused not only by the ectoplasm but his ice core shakily starting to form inside of him. Once he fully turns half ghost his hypothermia doesn’t change but it just no longer negatively affects him (I say Danny hovers naturally around 96-95F/35-33C getting much colder as Phantom at baseline. His body still can be damaged by going too cold but that’s a whole other post.) 

Incoherency/Hallucinations: I mentioned in the electrocution section that Danny is more than a little addled and the contamination didn’t help in that regard. Not only is he not thinking clearly but he’s also getting a little delirious and seeing things. Common hallucinations I see are: someone in the room watching you, things crawling on the walls, creeping shadows, you’re in the wrong place. I think its a solid 50/50 as far as Danny straight up hallucinating but also becoming more aware of natural ectoplasm that hangs around in the atmosphere. (And before anyone asks, yes Clockwork did come and visit, Danny just doesn’t remember)

Pain: Being electrocuted, irradiated, being dissolved slowly on the inside is enough to cause massive amounts of pain. Danny is 14, he doesn’t understand true pain and probably underestimated how much it would hurt. Once it got bad, it was almost paralyzing so it got to the point where even when he wanted to call for help, he couldn’t move or think past the horrible pain of his every molecule slowly dying and rearranging itself.

Weakness/Fatigue: I don’t really have anything much to add for this section that hasn’t been said in the others. Just the combination of all of the above meant Danny is so incredibly weak and fatigued, this will be problematic in the days and weeks following the accident as his body heals from the stress put on it. Poor boy was probably just getting past the worst of his symptoms by the time of the Lunch lady attack one month in.

Ghost instinct: Going off the medical rant for a minute to go into another aspect of the contamination present in the story, the idea of ectoplasm adding inherent ghostiness to Danny. Its common fanon that all ghosts (through ectoplasm) have their own unique code and language that is just omnipresent and instinctive. Such a massive, body altering dose of ectoplasm saw those things start to leech into Danny even before he became half ghost. The biggest is his fear of being seen, majority of ghosts are completely invisible and don’t want to be seen by the living. As Danny’s suffering and literally dying, he can’t bring himself to confess to his loved ones for very understandable reasons but also this ghostly instinct in the back of his head telling him to hide and get away. Other instincts are a strong attraction to the portal/Ghost Zone, lowkey being able to sense living people around him and a bit of an emotional dampener when Phantom. 

[redphlox]

some of y'all really think Horikoshi is just going to have Dabi burn to ashes in front of Shouto and Shouto is going to be like "oh ok I tried I guess"? That Shouto's dream of having dinner with his brother, aka bonding with his older siblings like he always wanted to when he was 5, won't come true? And the rest of the Todoroki fam is going to be okay losing Touya for the second time? Because they took it so well after the first time, right?

If Touya dies then what was the point of the "I wish you were here too Touya" sentiment that Endeavor had? All the build up of Natsuo constantly bringing Touya up? The fact that Touya's death has haunted the family and broke their hearts? The fact that Shouto can't consider himself a hero if he ignores his brother's pain, which is in direct contrast to how Endeavor, a hero before being a father, handled Touya?

Honestly. Where is the challenge in Touya dying? How is that fun to read? How is it satisfying to see the other hero kids succeed but have Shouto fail? How would that be fulfilling for Horikoshi to write considering how cheesy of a guy he is? I'm genuinely curious. And no, Touya dying doesn't fit the "it's for tragedy" argument. Horikoshi isn't that type of author. Bnha has some tragic plot lines but it's not an overall dark story like AOT.

It doesn't seem like Touya will live but that's the fun part of reading a story... seeing how the author does the impossible. I'm honestly flabbergasted at how many readers are screaming about Touya's skin falling off being an indicator of his death. Horikoshi isn't reading a medical textbook as he writes and draws this manga. There have already been so many other medical anomalies, miracles, mysteries, etc in the story for this to be a valid argument or basis for theories:

Shouto being burned would have resulted in severe eye injury, including blindness. He would possibly need surgeries as he grew up and his skin stretched, etc.

Deku breaking his fingers like he did during the sports festival would have required surgeries to fix tendons etc and months of therapy to regain strength, endurance, dexterity, etc.

Iida's brachial plexus injury during the Stain fight would have resulted in a permanently limp or paralyzed arm. If he was lucky maybe he would only lack muscle control in the arm, hand, or wrist.

Bakugo would not be up and walking after being impaled during the war arc. There are nerves and important af arteries in the shoulder and vital organs in the gut where he was stabbed. He would have died or been in the hospital for a while afterward.

Even how Touya is at the moment is a feat of Manga medicine. Irl Touya would have lost significant range of motion in the joints covered by skin burns, he would have spent literal months in the hospital after Sekoto peak hanging between life and death, and would have undergone 10-50 reconstruction surgeries over the years since the accident on top of months of rehabilitation after he was released from the hospital.

Miruko wouldn't be up and battling with her new prostheses this quickly. There is a learning curve and it takes time for the residual limb to heal, etc. She'd be looking at a rehabilitation process too which would be more than the couple of months that the story has lapsed since her injuries.

It's so exhausting to have hysterical people come at me and others like HIS SKIN IS FALLING OFF HE'S DYING AHHH when the story is about people with superhero powers and obviously doesn't follow irl bodily function logic etc. Not sure how to explain that this is a story about people with super human abilities. This is equally as frustrating as all the "Rei is going to spiral/relapse because she saw Dabi's reveal tape" and the "Shouto is going to kill Dabi" takes that cropped up but were proven wrong by the story later because the lead up apparently hadn't been obvious enough.

Basically, "oh no this character is so close to dying - wait they survived?!?! Cool!!" is a common trope that Horokishi loves to overuse. And I'm not looking to argue so just make your own post if you insist Dabi is dying.

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff.  and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother.  if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff.  Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt.  Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it.  Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll.  “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence.  “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned.  Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you.  “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well.  The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that.  Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed.  “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard.  It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this.  She could do better than him anyways!  But she didn’t care about that, only money and status.  You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh.  You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life.  You were just numb.

//

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer.  It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his.  You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know.  Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway.  You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly.  Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink.  Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe.  There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled.  “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’.  This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity.  Almost.  

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned.  “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!” 

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face.  It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over.  You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room.  That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death.  So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions.  You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.  

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either.  And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more.  You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it.  Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot.  You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else.  You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible.  You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything.  Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.  

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

//

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently.  The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen.  She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.  

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though.  You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one.  At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along.  Friday night was different, though.  This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning.  That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it.  It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside.  You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow.  It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms.  He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face.  You didn’t let it get this far just to give up.  You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey.  You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak.  “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could.  You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this.  Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me.  I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once.  All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.  

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response.  “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you!  You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled.  It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed.  It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before.  He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap.  Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked.  You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes.  He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits.  It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was.  You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet.  You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly.  You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain.  But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse.  Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward.  Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused.  You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing.  What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him.  He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed.  “You are in dire need of a punishment.  You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal.  “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh?  Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.  

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers.  “This fuckin’ mouth.  You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you?  Come on baby, open up.  I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip.  You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see?  You’re so wet for it,” he purred.  You tried to speak but words abandoned you. 

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed.  His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth.  He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting.  You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy.  “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock.  Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe.  His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough.  You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait?  I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled.  “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring.  Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra.  Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands. 

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.  His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside.  “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.  A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.  

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you.  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly.  “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason.  You gonna be good for me now?” 

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.  

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs.  “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind.  You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more.  Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority.  “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?  Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?”  He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.  

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands.  A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers.  They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off.  You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor.  “I can smell how much you want it.”  He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue.  “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised.  You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs.  You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come.  And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily.  It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now.  Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment.  Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you. 

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth.  “Beg me.  To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed.  It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true.  And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother.  He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.  

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon.  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not.  At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you.  Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it?  Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher.  Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer.  He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright.  He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned.  “Feel that, sweetheart?  Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face.  “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed.  You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl?  Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed.  “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop.  Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day).  He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out.  He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked.  It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip.  He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt.  “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?” 

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath.  You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction.  You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”  

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer.  “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

[pdrrook]

how are spd agents outside of work? is max still unsure and frightened in everyday life, fortin scary af, willy no nonsense and impatient? or maybe the face they show at work is just small part of their personality? maybe some random domestic facts about them dear author?

I mean, after working several years in this 'lovely' environment they generally don't care to hide themselves behind a mask or anything, at least most of them.

Max is like a college student just trying to survive studying a major he didn't choose and has no choice but to graduate with honors 🥴 baby's more tired than anything really

Fortin is a🐍, you get what you see basically

Willy's made from the same mold as Nino asdsdddad he does have a softer side, but the soft side's still kinda like pumice, ya know, hence why they get along so well

Tsai is kinda like Flavio in the sense that she has a very relaxed almost happy-go-lucky persona, but she can be cruel when there's a need for it

Alex is just another one of these agents who think they are better than anyone else because they are 5s and work for the gvt 🙄

Joran... you'll get to make up your mind about him yourself later on

Random domestic facts here we go:

Willy:

a tough cookie but his younger siblings make him melt. He's an overprotective brother who spoils the shit out of them

Fortin:

Fortin is a divorcee and she doesn't care all that much about her ex-spouse. Because of her work, she never got to have a super tight bond with her daughter, but her grandson is her Achilles' heel

Tsai:

doesn't have any family left (both parents were working for the govt and both died on duty), but she's like that one college professor that just chills with you after lectures. Half of the trainees are scared of her, the other half has a huge ass crush on her

Maverick:

Maxie spends most of his sparse free time visiting his mom and trying to convince her that being an agent is an 'amazing experience' just so she could stop worrying about him

Alex:

the biggest part of why he became an agent was to make his parents proud and to improve their quality of life. That doesn't mean he's selfless, he's just wanted to get paid better

Joran:

he's an orphan but he's super close with a bunch of other kids he grew up with + when he can he helps out in the orphanage where he grew up

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🚨Thurs 17 Dec ‘20🚨

No one will argue, this year has been the worst and I'm not really into that whole 'silver linings to bad things' bit, but... BUT! If the demise of live shows and rise of livestreams meant Zayn deciding to perform for us?! Well. I would be willing to reconsider my whole ass philosophy on life! Unfortunately, despite the excitement (or was it hysteria?) he inspired last night by getting all our hopes up, it might just be a music video? We'll see though. He definitely did register a new song, UNFXWITABLE (!), and then, and THEN: slid a single photo into his instagram story, a truly beautiful old baroque theater stage, fitted with live show speakers and a tantalizingly closed red curtain. The stage lights are on, the seats are empty... prepping for zomething?? It was discovered to be the St George Theater in Staten Island, very exciting, but today more video of them working on whatever they're working on surfaced (a snippet at the theater with a bit of an unknown song audible) that makes it seem more likely they're working on a music video than a livestream set up. Still, we can DREAM. At the very least we're getting a new song any minute now and at best-- Z3 and a video AND a liveztream?? (or prerecorded, that's FINE.) The pap pics the other day were him leaving a menswear boutique (sorry I said home, my bad, it was the usual 'front door to car' walk though) leading to speculation he was getting fitted for zomething zpecial... maybe we'll get to see it soon!

Likely on account of the added European show tickets going on sale today, Louis came online to check in, and also to laugh at old videos of himself, send larries into a tailspin, and best of all, weigh in on and shut down discourse left and right THANK YOU SIR! Louis is happy to walk us all through how not to get Live In London video taken down (“do it on a burner account haha?” tips from the master truly, no one would know better so listen to him); he denies having such an account himself (“maybe I should”) though unlike Liam (see below) HE doesn't go that extra step into obvious lie territory and say he's NEVER had one. On how he deals with comments about his height (which are up again these last few days due to a video circulating that uses math to conclude once again that he is in fact, as documented, 5'9”), “I rise above them,” he zings back, and in appreciation of someone who actually got the joke, “you're on my level,” DOUBLE PUNNING, BOOM but that's not all: he finishes off with the comment that finished ME off, “such a peculiar debate.” REALLY. Peculiar specifically, not like strange or weird or annoying you just... went right in for the Eroda copyrighted word huh. OKAY. Also: no, probably no collabs on LT2 (“doubt it”), yes he loves twitter “in doses, no better way to talk to you lot” (you mean even better than via t shirts?? sounds fake but okay), tells us he is “100% for sure” is gonna get the vaccine, and that “cucumber is shit” which isn't really a discourse we needed him to solve that I knew of but like, okay! Sorted! Antis seethed about him talking to larries and larry UAs and picking a video of him and H singing You and I to reply to, and probably cucumber enthusiasts and anti-vaxxers were unhappy too, but the rest of us? WINNING.

Liam is all over, first appearing in a fisherman's cap that nicely sets of his full and fluffy beard, then demonstrating answering questions for the Naughty List insta filter. He says he has never made a fake social media account, so I guess he's not lurking here reading these or I would guess that if I believed THAT for one second, he also says yes I have lied to my best friend so I'll just chose to believe he means us by 'best friend' since here he is, lying away. Dixie is absent from the recent promo, which is a blessing not just because they don't mesh particularly well but also because she's gotten even more terrible on main, moving from simply allying herself with racists to producing her own racist content- if we're lucky she'll simply fade away along with xmas and we can move on without any of that thank you very much. Liam is still a good BFF to us though: today he's offering himself up as prize in a raffle, you can enter to win a 'once in a lifetime VIP Experience in 2021 with Liam' for a low low £5, funds going to Stagehand's #ILoveLive campaign to support industry workers. And on the 17th day of christmas, my LP Advent Alarm woke me up with... Roman Kemp leading us through a weirdly peppy breathing exercise, backed with both soothing spa music and a sample of Liam's voice taken from the sleep story played over and over at near random intervals! I said it before and I'll say it again, they REALLY should have recorded all the material at once last month, but tbh I am enjoying the chaotic daily scramble to find something to put on the thing that's come of them being caught short maybe even more than I would normal content, it's getting downright experimental and I'm fully here for it. It's got that classic janky af for no reason 1D feel you know!

Rob Sheffield found better things to say about Watermelon Sugar, naming it his number one song of 2020 and calling it “a lost Stevie Nicks/ Stevie Wonder duet” plus gifting us a Harry quote: “that one we reworked a bunch of times, and it died a couple times, then it just kept coming back. We fully killed it a few times, but it kept coming back in. So I thought, There’s a reason it’s surviving.” And Chris Pine- who also says that he's all done shooting his part of Don't Worry Darling- said, “Harry Styles is an absolute delight. He's one of the most professional people I've ever met. Couldn't be kinder, more gracious, I mean, really, I was stunned by this kid. He's off-the-charts cool.”

And finally, as 2020 draws to a close we are being flooded with a barrage of our guys being declared winners of incredibly narrow categories (Harry on a list of 'groundbreaking magazine covers' for example), but I think the winner of MY list of 'Highly Specific Accolades' is sewn up for the year already; Heartbreak Weather is officially “the first [advertising] campaign to utilize weather-tracking technology to target content to users”! I'll definitely be keeping my eye out for competitors but beating that for reaching for a category will be TOUGH.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Elmer's Glue pt.1

Éomer/Reader

God you just can't get his name right, and it's a shame cause's he's cute af

Awkwardness Humor and Fluff

----

Someone like you shouldn't have survived nearly as long as you did.

You first came tumbling into Middle Earth a few days before departing for some big important quest to destroy a powerful ring, having landed yourself in a place called Rivendell that's full of elves and lovely scenery.

You were presented at some meeting and urged to join this 'Fellowship' and became a valuable member of the group even despite your lack of fighting knowledge, because you somehow had some sort of 6th sense regarding things that have yet to happen.

Just barely did you and your friends survive Helms Deep, The Hornburg, after all of those horrible events (losing Gandalf, Merry and Pippin being captured, and Frodo and Sam departing to continue on on their own), but once all is said and done, you're ecstatic to finally have a moment of rest and celebration.

A grand party is thrown in the royal halls of Rohan, but you're none to interested in the drinking or dancing.

Instead, you opt to watch everyone else enjoy themselves.

At some point after Legolas wipes the floor with Gimli in a drinking game, the prince, and brother of the sweet woman Eowyn, ends up meandering over to where you idly sit.

You remember riding with him to and from Isengard during your journey to reclaim your hobbit friends, though the two of you didn't speak much. It was kind of embarrassing for you to sit so close to him and attempt to share a conversation while looking straight ahead, so you didn't speak much at all, and he didn't engage himself often either.

It was surprising to you how comfortable the journey was, though, all things considered.

His horse was huge and he was just as large, but you never felt afraid or feared falling even once during the ride.

It's not a big deal, but it still stuck out to you since he's so clearly a very skilled rider.

Even after all that, however, you still totally blank out on his name when he suddenly approaches after helping Legolas bring Gimili to the resting area.

Your mind begins to race as you try to remember the name that belongs to him, and all too soon do you realize that you're both staring at each other and he's waiting for your to say something (probably after greeting you, which you did not catch).

"L-Lord... Elmer..." You say slowly after a moment, praying to god you got it right since you took inspiration from your favorite brand of kids glue.

He raises an eyebrow when you say his 'name', and a smile creeps on to his face. "Elmer?"

Ah, shit. You definitely didn't get it right.

"Elmo?" You mentally kick yourself for that one, he's definitely not a small red puppet monster, you would've noticed if he were.

He shakes his head this time, amusement painting his features as you struggle to come up with his actual name.

"Emir?"

Another head shake, and also a full on smile.

"It's not Edgar, is it?" It definitely doesn't sound right, but maybe you'll get lucky.

At this point, you know for a fact that your face is on fire, this is so embarrassing, but you simply can't remember.

"Would you like me to tell you?" He offers after you don't guess again for a time, leaning his arm on the table next to you, leaning closer to you.

Getting help at this point would be mortifying, so you deny his offer for the proper answer and take another crack and guessing. "No, no wait. I've got it! Your name is... Elinor..." You mentally smack yourself in the face for that one; he doesn't even look like an Elinor (mostly because he's not a woman).

"Not quite. Eomer is my name may I remind you."

So your first guess was the closest, but still so far away.

"W-Well, this is extremely embarrassing." You stutter out, adverting your gaze from his eyes which have suddenly become so close.

Eomer can't help but to laugh, and the smile that graces his lips is positively dashing.

You glance back up at him and notice right away, and once more your face begins to burn like a furnace.

"I-I didn't mean to forget, I swear! And I definitely wasn't trying to make fun of you either!"

His chuckles die down when your slightly panicked speech betrays your concern of being disrespectful, and he wastes no time in assuring you that it's perfectly fine. "If you are worried that you've upset me, then do not fret. I'm not offended, simply amused."

Well, that's a relief.

"Um... well, that's good- I guess," you tell him your name, then continue, "I feel so bad. You took me on your horse and everything and I didn't even remember your name! Gosh, I suck."

The tall blond-haired man looks at you oddly when you insult yourself so strangely, and you realize that you forgot to keep your other-word slang to a minimum since it can be hard to understand.

"Right, well, I came over to ask if you would like to join me on a walk outside. Are you interested?" He leans down a bit closer when he asks you this, acting as if he doesn't want anyone else to hear.

Typically you'd be more cautious than this, but you find yourself nodding along regardless.

---

Lord Eomer (you'll definitely remember his name this time, you swear it) took your hand in his and led you outside after you nodded your assent, and while you'd normally dislike being grabbed so casually, you allow it for some reason.

He releases you from his gentle hold once the both of you are beyond the party halls and outside in the cool night air at the bottom of the steps, and you finally find your voice to ask about his intent.

"So... did you want to talk to me about something or...?" You look up at him curiously with your hands clasped in front of you, twisting your heel in the dirt to ease the anxiousness.

"No, nothing in particular. I do have questions, but I simply wanted a moment alone with you," he pauses, then adds slyly, "Your friends have taken up al your time since we arrived, so I had hoped to steal you away for a time."

You aren't sure if you should be flattered, flustered, or both.

"I-I see... well, you've got me now." You mean it as a joke but it's hard to sound humorous when you're so flustered.

He only smiles and nods his head once, "I do."

Cue the awkward silence.

It appears that he's once again waiting for you to say something, so you decide to pull no punches and go straight for the heavy hitting topics.

"So, hows about that battle, huh? Crazy..."

His eyebrows knit together as he thinks over your strange speaking mannerisms, but he doesn't question it and only nods his head instead. "You could say that. The men fought bravely and we lost many, but our victory does not go unrewarded."

"Are you talking about the party?"

"Yes. That, and the knowledge that some of my men get to return home tonight and see their families."

His words bring a small, sad smile to your face, and you speak much more softly this time, "I'm afraid it isn't over, though. With everything going on, it's only a matter of time before we're all sent away again."

"We?"

Oh, right, he doesn't really know about your role in this merry group of misfits.

"Um, yes. I fight, er, kind of. I do my own thing really, but I can't afford to stay behind." It's hard to explain since you aren't sure what the extent of his knowledge is.

His uncle, Theoden, knows almost all about your deal, but does Eomer? He should since he's a key part of this whole Rohan operation, but it's not necessarily your place to tell him either.

"A shield-maiden?" He wonders aloud, taking a seat on the stone steps next to you two.

Even when he's sitting down he's taller than you, and it shoots an arrow of envy through you. The bigger you are, the more intimidated your enemies are, after-all.

"Not quite. I'm not the best at fighting really." It's kind of a lie, actually, because you've got some hidden skill that makes you pretty good at that kind of thing, but it has to do with your foresight to you choose not to explain much further.

Your answer seems to only confuse him more, however, for his eyebrows knit together and his smile tugs downwards into a frown. "You are not? But they bring you into battle regardless?"

Well, shit, now you're making them sound like negligent, reckless idiots.

"N-No- I mean, I'm okay but, uh, it's hard to explain." It's like you somehow just know how to affectively fight; it's like something inside of you just takes over and keeps you from dying, and it proved to be both extremely useful and also unexpected.

They found out about this 'hidden ability' (for lack of a better term) during the battle in which Boromir was slain and you first lost your hobbit friends. You were surrounded and everyone else was fighting for their lives, and in that moment of hopelessness, something inside of you snapped and the floodgates were opened.

Your skill lies in defense, not offense, but it was all you needed to make it through the fight alive and intact.

"I-I know it seems like they were being irresponsible, but there's more to the story- I swear!" You try to defend, taking a step closer to his seated form, "Really, they need me, so it'd be even more irresponsible if they didn't bring me along."

He doesn't seem to get it, for his doubtful expression remains and his frown deepens, but he tries not to judge too much either. "I... see."

A subject change seems like the best course of action, so you decide to ask him a question of your own. "W-Well... anyways. Why'd you want me to come out here with you?"

"I simply wished to learn more about the beautiful newcomer that graced our halls, and I find that I'm even more entranced than before."

Lord Eomer's words bring a flush to your face and leave you flustered, and it seems you can't get your brain to form a coherent thought either.

"Have my words troubled you?" He asks when you still don't manage to find your voice.

"N-No, it's not that..." You trail off and cover your mouth and nose coyly, looking off to the side when you find that you can't meet his gaze any longer. "I'm just not sure how to reply to that. I've been here so long I don't even remember how to flirt." Your words are, of course, an embarrassed joke, and it seems to land well for he chortles with amusement.

"If that is all it is, then it must be fine that I say you've caught my eye, and I'm afraid I cannot get it back until I know more."

"Know more about... m-me?" You repeat slowly, simply trying to wrap your head around it all, "Like... Like what?"  

Another dashing smile brightens his handsome features, and this time your heart flutters nervously when he does, "Anything."

You twiddle your thumbs in front of you and dip your head down, racking your brain for any information that would be interesting but not super telling in terms of your 'earth of origin.'

"Um... I can do this-" You raise one of your hands and bend your fingers all the way back until they're perpendicular with your palm, displaying your double jointed fingers effortlessly.

He stares at your hand trick for all of 5 seconds before he's standing up and worriedly asking, "Have you broken your hand?" He takes your hand in his own, delicately turning it around in search of bruises.

"N-No," you pause and look at his larger hands taking yours, then add shyly after, "It's just a trick. I'm double-jointed."

"Double-jointed?" He repeats slowly, not releasing your hand though he does cease his search for damage. "I... see."

He sure does say that a lot.

"I can also do this." You take back one of your hands and reach into your pocket and pull out a lighter that you've had with you all this time, then you ignite a flame and brandish it proudly.

The blond-haired man looks on with wide eyes, and he reaches out towards it, asking with amazement in his voice, "You created fire so effortlessly!'

"Yeah, this little device has, er, oil in it and it ignites it using a spark." It has been helpful many a-night when everyone else has been out and about doing stuff and you were left to tend to the fires. "Don't get too close though, it's hot."

He nods his head once and drops his hands to his dies, watching the small flame dance on the lighter before you blow it out and place it back in your pocket.

"Where did you find such a magnificent contraption?" He asks once it's out of sight, looking down at you with curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

"I, um... made it." You think it best to lie, though he doesn't appear to fall for it, and change the subject. "So, how about that weather we're having?"

Your sudden and shitty subject change makes him raise an inquisitive eyebrow, but after a moment he starts to laugh, "Yes, the night sky's are very clear tonight. As it should be the morrow after a raging battle."

It's strange and none too awkward since you're no good at this, but this normalcy actually almost makes you forget all the shit you've seen up until now.

"I would very much like to see you again." He says suddenly when the conversation dies down and you both just stand there in silence.

You look back up at him and offer a small smile, repeating softly, "Sure. I'd like that as well. But I'm still here, so we don't have to talk about later just yet, right?"

"I suppose not." He reaches down and grabs your right hand gently, raising it up while he also leans down, then he presses a feather soft kiss to the middle of the back of your hand.

Eomer looks up at you while he does so, and you find that your face has begun to heat up once more.

When he doesn't move to stand normally and continues to look up at you expectantly, you ask uncertainly, "Am I supposed to kiss your hand too, or...?"

It seems you're quite the comedian to this guy, for he stands up straight again and bursts into joyful laughter, reaching down to pat your shoulders, "No no, but if you wish to offer me one somewhere else then I would not deny it."

People in this place really waste no time beating around the bush, though you suppose they can't afford to waste much time when things like the Battle at Helms Deep happen every so often.

There are murderous orcs everywhere and danger at every turn for them nowadays, do you actually feel a sense of appreciation for his forwardness.

This time you find yourself laughing too, and you readily reply, "Maybe next time, Lord Eomer. We only just met, you know. I could be trying to steal a place in the royal line, for all you know."

His smile does not waver despite your warning against yourself, for he only shakes his head and squeezes your shoulders gently, "No, such motives always make themselves clear early on. Unfortunately for me, you're honest."

"Unfortunately?"

"Unfortunate for my heart, yes."

[supercasey]

TMA Child Avatars AU

Alright, so ever since I listened to the episode about Agnes’s origins, I keep thinking about an AU where a bunch of the other Entities, after realizing that it’s at least possible to create an avatar from birth, perform their own rituals and make a bunch of the future Archives gang. This AU has a lot of potential for angst, but since TMA is sad enough, I’ll probably mostly focus on the world building and fluffy/funny stuff (‘cus god knows I’m a slut for that shit).

To all my followers, I’m sorry I keep making kid AUs; I got told in like 2015 or so that I sucked at writing kids and it’s Never Left My Mind, so now I always wanna make stupid AUs in order to practice writing kids better (I also have an original story I wanna write soon with a ten year old as the main character, so yeah, I need all the practice I can get).

Anyways, here’s all I’ve got on the AU this far (explanation under the cut; a very long post is up ahead):

Character Backstories

Jonathan “Jon” Sims - Apprentice Archivist of the Eye

Jon is a very complicated story, at least from everyone outside of the Eye’s gaze. It was Elias’s idea to create him, and were it not for Gertrude getting lucky, no one but Elias, Peter Lukas, and Simon Fairchild would have ever known that Jon existed until he was ready to become the next archivist. Gertrude found out by pure chance when she accepted a live statement from one very frightened Delores Sims, who told the archivist about how a strange man had been stalking her ever since she found out she was pregnant. Out of completely nowhere, her husband died a month after she conceived, and even though it looked like an accident, Delores swore that she saw an arm surrounded by fog push him down the stairs. Things only grew worse for her over the next few weeks, as in the midst of her grieving her dead husband, Delores began seeing green, glowing irises out of the corners of her eyes, watching her every move as she lived her life, which was followed by the stalker in question appearing constantly in her dreams, always watching her from afar, an unpleasant and frankly unnerving grin on his face the entire time.

Suspicious, and finding the description of the stalker all too familiar by the end of the statement, Gertrude investigated Delores’s claims on her own time, going so far as to break into Elias’s office in order to dig up more information on whatever he was up to. No matter what her theories may have been, none of them were anything like what she found in his letters to his associates. Somehow, Elias had conspired alongside the Lukas and Fairchild families to find their heirs/avatars together, and Elias was the last person to acquire one of his own. Gertrude was unsure of the details at the time (and she still unfortunately is), but from what she could gather, the child growing in Delores Sims’ body was somehow touched by the Eye because of something Elias had done, and they would be born with the perfect framework to have the powers that an archivist learns over several years of training at birth! With no time to lose, Gertrude got back into contact with Delores, and after much discussion between the two women, she convinced Delores to come to her apartment when she eventually went into labor, and to give Gertrude the baby after they were born so that she could keep them safe from Elias.

The birth was meant to be done in secret, but the second the first contraction occurred, there was a knock on Gertrude’s door, Elias waiting for her on the other side with an unhappy grimace on his face. He came armed with a gun, and threatened to murder Gertrude if she didn’t allow him to claim the child as his own. Aware she still had many rituals to stop in the near future, and that none of her assistants were experienced enough to stop them by themselves, Gertrude reluctantly agreed to let him inside, but on one condition; the child had to be shared between them. Elias was abrasive to the idea of course, but he eventually complied with his archivist’s demands, not wanting to replace her so early on in her career. The sight of her stalker coming into the bedroom to watch her give birth unfortunately sent Delores into a panic attack while she was still very much in labor, making the rest of the birth a rather dangerous thing, but the child survived, leaving his mother terrified and shaking. Gertrude had planned on letting her go on her merry way after the baby was born, but Elias wasn’t taking any chances, and he shot her as soon as he deemed it safe to.

Since then, Gertrude and Elias have had dual custody of Jonathan- the name was Gertrude’s idea, on the grounds that it was a nice, proper name for a young man- trading him back and forth every other week. It’s been hard, especially with the adults he calls his parents wanting to kill each other, but Jon’s oblivious to most of the fighting right now, assuming his folks are just going through a messy divorce.

Martin Blackwood-Lukas - Adoptive Son of Peter Lukas

Peter ended up running very behind in the whole child avatar thing (a first for his family, something Simon reminds him of on a daily basis), and he really struggled with creating a baby avatar that would actually be able to “keep up” with the other young messiahs that were coming to be. Eventually he realized that his family’s usual method would take too long, so out of desperation he went to Elias and Simon for help. It was Simon’s idea that worked; he suggested that since the normal methods weren’t working, and kids usually don’t become lonely until they’re older, that Peter should try his own summoning ritual like the Lightless Flame did with Agnes. Peter was hesitant at first, but he gave in quickly, sacrificing a number of lonely souls to his entity in a well-timed manner, until finally, he found a small, swaddled baby in the midst of the fog; a supposed gift from the Lonely for his loyalty.

Peter was delighted by this discovery, and so were his colleagues, the men relieved that their hard work had actually paid off for once. After naming the little boy Martin- it was Elias’s idea, though he didn’t have much of an exact reason for the name, simply claiming that it “suited” the child- and before long, Peter began raising his newfound son much the same as he was; in almost total isolation, save for a variety of rotating nannies and caregivers. Unfortunately for Peter, this went horribly wrong almost as soon as he got started, as by the time that Martin was six months old he had accidentally forced five different nannies into the fog out of fear of them leaving like the ones before them had. With no other options available, and being able to actually leave the fog if Martin threw anymore fits, Peter was forced to raise his son by hand, which again went wrong, but for very different reasons, as to his shock, he became quite attached to his adopted child.

This evolved into Peter having doubt of the Lonely for the first time in his life, but he refused to acknowledge it for as long as he could. But he was finally forced to when, after Martin turned five years old, the rest of the Lukas family insisted on performing a test on the child to see how well Martin could handle the fog without any guidance. He had been inside the fog before of course, with Peter holding his hand or carrying him through the dense chill, but the family wanted to isolate Martin inside for a full month. This secretly scared Peter like nothing else ever had, but out of fear of what his family might think, he didn’t say anything at the time, simply watching from afar as his son was dragged into the fog and left to fend for himself. The ritual went wrong within the first week, Martin having a full-scale breakdown and nearly hyperventilating to death, and yet the family kept him in there for another week before the intervention.

The results of the test of course disappointed the other members of the Lukas family, who suggested that they simply leave Martin to disappear into the fog and look for a new, more sufficient messiah to serve their god. The news hit Peter incredibly hard, and despite his previous inhibitions and fear, he knew he couldn’t let the Lonely consume his one and only son. So, without telling anyone of what he was up to, he ventured into the fog, rescued Martin, and fled to live with his estranged ex-husband the Magnus Institute. Since then he’s been living with Elias at his house and avoiding his family at all costs, all while young Martin has grown up alongside the other entity kids and has struggled to figure out his role in everything, but at least he has his dad on his side through all of this.

Sasha James - Chosen Daughter of the Mother of Puppets

(Note: I headcanon the Mother of Puppets as a giant spider, so that’s how I’m writing her… sorry if this is inaccurate, but I’m only on MAG 152, y’all. Besides, I think this is cool af.)

Sasha was very much planned, even more so than Agnes was so many years beforehand. The Mother of Puppets had her minions gather hundreds upon hundreds of orphaned infants and bring them to her nest. She swaddled each every one in her webbing and kept them like this for several weeks, allowing them time to adjust to the webbing and adapt. Unfortunately, most of these children weren’t cut out for the Web’s influence, and while a few indeed held their adoptive mother’s mark, almost none of them were marked deep enough to become a fully realized avatar. The unsuccessful batches were subsequently sent off to orphanages across the world and replaced with new babies, this process repeating for years and years, until finally, Sasha was born. There was nothing special about her parents, yet she not only bore The Web’s mark, she seemed to have it embedded into her very soul. This, of course, was met with celebration from the Web, and plans were quickly made as to how to raise her moving forward, as no one wanted Sasha to end up like Agnes did.

Annabelle Cane ended up being the one chosen to home Sasha for the first few years of her childhood, and she was dutiful in her new, rather honorable role, as she not only cared for the child well, but she treated Sasha as her own, though she was careful to be seen more as an older sister than a mother to the girl; that role was, of course, reserved for Sasha’s real mother. When Sasha finally turned five, the Mother of Puppets announced further plans for the young avatar, calling on Annabelle to take Sasha to the Magnus Institute and give her to one of their hidden agents there so that she could learn more about how the Web uses it’s influence over other entities. This worried Annabelle, who wanted to keep the child near her and prove that she was the most loyal of the mother’s children, but she would never disobey a direct order from the being that had given her life such meaning. So, rather reluctantly, Annabelle gave Sasha to another member of the Web, watching from the shadows as this unworthy follower took the blessed daughter into the institute for further training.

This went wrong within only a few months. Gertrude ended up finding out who the Web’s spy in the institute was, as she had suspected that another entity was trying to control her from the shadows, and after disposing of the threat and searching their home for anything useful that she could use against the Web, she found Sasha. The archivist was tempted to kill the supernatural child on sight, but while she can murder her assistants and enemies without much remorse, on the grounds that it’s always for the greater good, killing a child is a very different story. So she took Sasha in, raising the Web’s child as her own alongside the Eye’s own prodigy Jon, all while trying to help Sasha control her slowly budding powers. The Mother of Puppets has been trying to get Sasha back ever since, enraged that the child is so close to her yet just out of reach, but with no luck, though there’s no telling how long that will last.

Timothy & Daniel Stoker - Dancer and Future Ringmaster of the Stranger

Both Tim and Danny are chosen ones of the Stranger, created as soon as their god had gained enough spare power to create them. Tim was born first, being the Stranger’s first attempt at birthing an avatar that might be powerful enough to help lead the Unknowing, but Gertrude interrupted midway through the ritual. By some miracle, Tim survived the ordeal, but he was left “incomplete” to some degree, leaving him simply marked and not fully connected to the Stranger. The entity’s followers ended up keeping him around though, both because Nikola Orsinov was too fascinated by the newborn baby to give him up, and because his parents wanted him to survive, but it was agreed that another attempt would be made, this time with more planning involved. Four years later, Danny was born, and with Gertrude too preoccupied to intervene this time around (and because she didn’t realize they’d try again so soon), the ritual went much better and created a far more suitable vessel for the Stranger’s powers.

After that, Tim and Danny’s parents died, fully succumbing to the Stranger’s transformation and leaving them orphaned. Not that their presence was strictly necessary after the kids were born, as Nikola Orsinov was more than happy to take over in most of the child rearing, genuinely growing quite fond of the two boys, particularly Tim, as despite his lack of supernatural abilities, she found him to be rather endearing, which is probably the closest she can get to genuinely caring about someone. Both brothers were raised more or less the same way, save for Danny being showered with more praise and being trained as a future ringmaster while Tim was mostly ignored and trained to be a dancer. Some followers of the Stranger feared that Tim might harbor resentment towards his little brother and try to kill him someday, but to their surprise, Tim only grew more protective of him over the years, swearing to keep Danny safe as he grew up to fulfill his destiny and help their family mold the world in their image.

Eventually though, when Tim was eleven and Danny was seven, Tim realized what was actually happening behind the scenes, and not wanting his brother to risk being sacrificed for the world’s destruction, he told Danny everything, leading to the young messiah to run away with him to London (they were raised primarily in Russia, but moved with the circus a lot, and were in France at the time that they finally ran away). There, Tim found the infamous Gertrude Robinson, who he knew had the power to stop the Unknowing, as she had once saved him from becoming the Stranger’s avatar, and inadvertently led him to having a little brother. Tim and Danny have since moved in with Michael, and they visit the Magnus Institute whenever they get the chance, as both boys have grown to become friends with the other avatar kids. You’d think that the Stranger’s followers would be furious about all of this- don’t worry, many of their acolytes are- but Nikola has laughed it off entirely and keeps insisting that the boys are just having a “sleepover” or are away at “summer camp” (in fucking January, apparently).

Melanie King - Cadet of the Slaughter

Honestly, the Slaughter wasn’t as into the whole “let’s make an avatar from scratch!” thing that the other entities’ followers were doing, but hey, sometimes child avatars just kinda wind up on your doorstep, ya know? Melanie ended up being found at about four years old, sobbing on her hands and knees outside of a burning hospital and calling for her mommy and daddy to come back to her, but no one answered her cries, and she was left to weep for quite some time before someone found her. The hospital, you see, had been overrun by the Corruption and promptly burned to the ground by the Desolation, neither of which bothered to stick around for some worthless child. Melanie’s parents were both inside when the entities clashed, leaving her orphaned and scared, and while Alfred Grifter, who had been on his way to a show with his bandmates at the time that he found her, had intended on just leaving her be, he saw the overwhelming rage and blood-lust in her crying eyes, and realized in that moment that she was touched by the urge to kill, just like he was.

Melanie was promptly taken in by Alfred Grifter and the band, who honestly had no idea what the hell they were doing. On one hand, Alfred knew that keeping a kid around was unbelievably dangerous for all parties involved, but on the other, he really didn’t want to leave Melanie all by herself, for fear of what she might do if left without any guidance from “people” who knew what she was going through, at least to some degree. That isn’t to say Alfred and his bandmates were all that great at raising her- they mostly just brought her to gigs and let her play on her Gameboy backstage while they started massacres- but they did at least try to give her somewhat of a home. It wasn’t until five years into this that some other Slaughter followers found out about Melanie’s existence, to which they told Alfred to give her to them for proper training. Knowing her life would be horrible with them, Alfred gave his ward a backpack full of everything she ever owned, a kid sized guitar, her Gameboy, and sent her on the run.

Melanie was scared out of her mind at first, having grown to see Alfred and his bandmates as her new family; she had already lost her parents, so why did she have to lose the band, too!? But there were no other options, she had to run, so she did just that, attacking any adult who tried to stop her along the way. She didn’t actually know about the Magnus Institute when she made her way to London, and Alfred didn’t tell her to go there or anything, but she ended up being spotted by Adelard Dekker while she was looking for a place to stay in the area. Seeing that Melanie was an avatar of some kind, Adelard managed to convince her that he was safe, and to let him take her to someone that could help her. He brought Melanie straight to Gertrude Robinson, who agreed to house the child since Adelard couldn’t, though she ended up letting one of her unofficial assistants (*cough* Gerry *cough*) take her to live in his flat so she wouldn’t be as easy for Elias to monitor/get ahold of.

Julia Montauk & Alice “Daisy” Tonner - Children of the Hunt

(Watch as I fuck with timelines so badly that the people who keep track of this shit will order a hit on me) The Hunt found both of their avatars in strikingly similar yet different ways; Julia was first, born from the womb of another entity’s follower, but bound for so much more than anything the Dark could give her. Years after her destined birth, Julia’s mother was viciously murdered by the People’s Church when she was just five years old, her father Robert Montauk going down the path of becoming a fully-fledged Hunter, and in the process he unknowingly marked Julia with his newfound entity, which in turn unlocked an unprecedented potential inside of her, not that it was fully realized until another tragedy struck her. This next tragedy, unfortunately, claimed Julia’s father. Mr. Pitch was mistakenly summoned, and in it’s rage, it destroyed Robert while he was in the midst of a sacrifice. The monster would’ve gotten Julia next, had it not been for the intervention of a nearby Hunter.

Trevor Herbert honestly didn’t mean to get involved, but when he witnessed a little girl screaming as she ran out of a house, a giant mass of darkness chasing after her, and no one willing to so much as call the damn cops, he knew he had to rescue the poor kid. In a flash he ran over, picked Julia up, and ran away with her to safety, managing to get her in his car (which he stole, but that’s not important) and drive as far away from her old home as possible. In the aftermath, Trevor had no idea what to do with Julia, since he had never actually wanted any kids of his own, but… well, he ain’t heartless, and that monster was still out there somewhere, just waiting to sink it’s cursed teeth into this young child’s flesh. Trevor ended up keeping her after that, becoming her adoptive father as he traveled with her around the UK, slowly but surely training her to hunt the same monsters that claimed her beloved parents.

You’d think that would be the end of Trevor Herbert adopting little girls marked by the Hunt, but nope, he just can’t catch a fucking break! He found Daisy about a year later, when Julia was eight and becoming more adjusted to her new lifestyle. Again, Trevor wasn’t really planning on going on any hunts at the time that this happened, he was just traveling through the area, but upon finding a bloodied up, terrified little girl being chased by a boy who looked possessed… well, it wasn’t like Julia wasn’t lonely, and again, Trevor isn’t heartless, and he sure as hell can’t let things go. So yeah, he kidnapped another child touched by the Hunt, even though this one actually had a living parent, and once again he took to traveling the UK with his adoptive daughters, secretly reveling in his new role as a father. Daisy, while scared at first, quickly grew fond of her new family, and even fonder of her new nickname after Trevor patched up her wounds, and noticed a flower-shaped scar on her back, prompting him to start affectionately calling her Daisy.

Yep, things were going pretty good for the family of three, but of course, shit eventually caught up with Trevor, not that he thought he could avoid it forever.

The police eventually caught wind of “Trevor the Tramp” traveling with two little girls who looked an awful lot like the missing thirteen and ten year olds Julia Montauk and Alice Tonner, and in his desperation to keep from getting arrested and having his children taken away, Trevor fled to downtown London in order to lie low for awhile and raise his daughters in relative peace, only ever going out for food runs and the occasional hunt. It was through one of these hunts that he ended up meeting Gerard Keay, the two of them chasing after the same book that had been summoning shadow people to wreck havoc on the city, and after a bit of back and forth banter over the campfire that was once a Leitner, Gerry convinced Trevor to move in with him so that the girls and him would be safer and actually have a home. Although he was hesitant to accept an offer he thought was too good to be true (also, he’s not gonna lie, he thought Gerry was a vampire when they met), Trevor agreed and moved into Gerry’s flat with his daughters, and has since helped Gertrude and her assistants with monster hunts.

Oliver Banks & Georgie Barker - Fetchlings of The End

Georgie and Oliver are an odd story, with the latter of the two having gained his powers as a mere toddler, being plagued with horrible, ghastly dreams that would keep him awake through the night, leaving him absolutely haggard by morning. His father tried everything to help Oliver through this torment- counseling, medication, bedtime rituals- but nothing worked, and before long, Oliver’s beloved father was claimed by his nightmares, dying of a heart attack that he couldn’t stop. Alone and misunderstood by everyone who tried to raise him, Oliver ran away countless times, coming across Georgie during his last attempt. He found the little girl to also be on the run for similar reasons, but unlike him, she wasn’t the least bit afraid. She wasn’t exactly happy, but she wasn’t a bawling mess like he was. Together, the two of them struggled to survive, relying on kindhearted drifters for support while they avoided the police until, at long last, something took pity on them, that something being a large, fat tabby cat.

As it were, the tabby cat- dubbed The Admiral by Georgie- wasn’t a normal cat in the slightest, and although it couldn’t speak, it’s intentions were clear; it was there to help these lost, orphaned children. Oliver was skeptical of course, but Georgie wasn’t about to look a gift cat in the mouth, so Oliver reluctantly followed the cat and his little sister to an apartment building, and from there, into an unoccupied flat. Since then, the two children have been living with Admiral in that very same flat, the cat providing them with a fully stocked fridge, warm beds, and running water. It’s still unclear what the Admiral is, but he seems kind enough, and is obviously quite protective of his newfound children, accompanying them on their outings and occasional visits to the institute.

Michael Crew - Prodigy of The Vast

Out of all avatars to be raising children for their entity, Simon Fairchild absolutely has had the most fun with it all, treating it almost like a fun game or pastime. He was the first (save for the Lightless Flame having Agnes, of course) to “create” an avatar child, and from minute one he was overjoyed with the results. A few years after news broke of Agnes’ origins, and the followers of other entities were all arguing over whether or not to follow suit, Simon didn’t bother waiting for anyone’s input or permission, simply throwing himself into the deep end and praying he could make his plan work. Seemingly overnight, Simon somehow acquired a baby later identified as the missing and presumably dead infant Michael Crew, who he referred to as Mike when he finally introduced him to his friends/associates. He still hasn’t told anyone how he even got the kid- not even Peter or Elias know what he did!- but by some means, he illegally adopted Mike and took to raising the kid like a duck takes to water; a bit unsure at first, but growing to love it fast!

When Mike was introduced to the rest of the entity followers community, many were shocked (excuse the pun) to see that the infant had a long, frightening Lichtenberg scar running down his right arm, his back, and his right leg, the scars glowing a bright blue whenever he took to the sky or, as Elias learned the hard way after accidentally annoying Mike by bouncing him on his knee for too long when he was a toddler, used his powers to electrocute people. Even with his child being such an oddity, even among other avatars, Simon took it all in stride, proudly bragging about Mike to anyone who would listen, most of these people being victims of the Vast, who were hardly able to hear Simon’s excited rambling over their own shrieks of terror. He usually also insisted on bringing Mike with him, even when he was a mere infant, though he at least kept the kid in a tight harness on his chest. In all honesty, Simon being such an excited parent was what kick-started a lot of other avatars to start acquiring their own child avatars, as he made it look so easy!

However, things weren’t always perfect, especially on Mike’s end as he grew older. Being the eldest and more or less “firstborn” of this new generation of entity-made avatars put a lot of pressure on him at a very early age, pressure which Simon tried to help him deal with by not acknowledging it, which unfortunately didn’t help in the slightest. Thankfully Mike started to feel less unsure of his place in the world as he reached his teen years, seeing as the younger kids were now getting all the attention and giving him a chance to breathe. Even now that he’s an angsty teenager, Mike loves Simon like a father, referring to him as such without hesitation. This, of course, delights Simon to no end, and makes all his peers low-key high-key jealous of the awesome relationship he has with his son.

Helen Richardson - Droplet of The Spiral

Not much was known about Helen when Michael first found her. After being sent into The Spiral by Gertrude on what he thought to be a suicide mission for the greater good, Michael was half certain he wouldn’t find anything but his end in that place. Instead he found a small, strange toddler where he was meant to find… well, he didn’t actually know what, but certainly not a baby, that’s for sure! With no one watching baby Helen, and therefore making him believe that she had been abandoned by The Spiral’s other creations, Michael had no reservations against scooping her up and taking her back to the physical world with him, where he was met be a very confused Gertrude Robinson. Michael wasn’t exactly keen on killing/abandoning a baby after he got out, so he and Gertrude brought her back to London with them in hopes of finding out more about the odd child. Along the way, it became clear that the baby was gifted with The Spiral’s powers, the giggly toddler continually screwing with reality, though she wasn’t aware she was doing so.

Back home in London, it took another three weeks of research, but Gerry eventually found out more about the child Michael had more or less adopted. Her name was originally Helen Richardson, and her father, a rookie paranormal investigator who had once been marked by The Spiral, was obsessed with the distortion, and was willing to do anything to become more than simply marked by it. He ended up finding a map similar to Gertrude’s, and a few years before she even knew it was possible, the father went into The Spiral and used his own daughter as a vessel for the entity, hoping she would be a good enough sacrifice to earn it’s favor. This of course ended in disaster, with the father “disappearing” while Helen absorbed The Spiral’s power, but seeing as she was so young, it couldn’t manifest properly, even after two and a half years spent trying to “raise her” within the deepest depths of it’s domain.

With research still being done on what to do about the child, and whether or not the team can remove her powers without killing or permanently injuring her in the process, Michael has agreed to take Helen in, secretly delighted to be raising a baby. With the Stoker Brothers already under his roof, Michael has his hands rather full with them and baby Helen, but the boys take her antics in stride, having learned quickly how to deal with the apartment they live in occasionally “growing” some new doors and changing color at random. Luckily for Michael, he has back-up in the forms of Gerry and Gertrude, who occasionally take Helen and the brothers off his hands for him so he can take a break/fix whatever Helen may’ve accidentally broken with her powers.

Character Roles in this AU

(Feel free to add your own OCs/other characters if you wanna do stuff with this AU, I’m just naming characters I know about/remember!)

Avatar Kids: Jonathan “Jon” Sims, Martin Blackwood, Sasha James, Timothy “Tim” Stoker, Daniel “Danny” Stoker, Melanie King, Julia Montauk, Alice “Daisy” Tonner, Oliver Banks, Georgie Barker, Michael “Mike” Crew, and Helen Richardson.

Avatar Kids Semi-Reluctant PTA Group: Elias Bouchard, Gertrude Robinson, Peter Lukas, Gerard “Gerry” Keay, Trevor Herbert, Michael Shelley, and Simon Fairchild.

PTA Allies: Basira Hussain (Daisy’s best friend and the local Normal Child™), Agnes Montague (Everyone’s emergency number for avatar child advice), Alfred Grifter (Just shows up to hang out with Melanie and cause problems on purpose), The Admiral (Guardian to Georgie and Oliver and occasionally the other kids; best babysitter), Adelard Dekker (Comes around the archives sometimes and always brings presents for the kids + assistants), and Rosie (Elias’s assistant and the only sane and sensible adult in this Chili’s tonight).

PTA Enemies: Nikola Orsinov (Tim and Danny’s “Mom” who keeps kidnapping Jon on accident), Annabelle Cane (Hates the institute and wants Sasha back), Jude Perry (Hates the kids but loves Agnes; worst babysitter),  and Jared Hopworth (Nightmare flesh man that needs to fuck off; mediocre but funny babysitter).

Character Descriptions

(Feel free to tweak the physical designs if you want; I’m just going off my own headcanons, and seeing as my drawing skills are pretty shit, it’s not like I’m gonna be doing much art for this outside of writing. So yeah, go off with your own headcanons if you want to!)

Full Name: Jonathan “Jon” Sims-Bouchard-Robinson Age: 7 Birthday: October 26th (Scorpio) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Eye, Marked by Literally Fucking Everything Guardian(s): Alexander Sims (Biological Father - Deceased), Delores Sims (Biological Mother - Deceased), Gertrude Robinson (Adoptive Mother - Current), Elias Bouchard (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: African heritage with dark brown skin, worryingly short for his age, dark brown eyes that glow bright green when he’s using his powers, long black hair with a few green and grey hairbands tied in, constantly “borrows” Martin’s sweaters to wear, occasionally wears skirts but most of the time he wears slacks, constantly looks sleep deprived, has a very intense stare, and occasionally he can be seen carrying his stuffed moth around. Personality: You’d think he’d be a quiet kid, considering his entity, but no, he has Questions and he wants them Answered, goddammit! He wasn’t raised around many kids his age, being home-schooled by Elias and Gertrude all his life, so he struggles to connect with the other avatar kids. Is only close to the S1 gang at first, but he gets closer to everyone else over time. Idolizes Gerry and thinks he’s the coolest guy ever. Appears rather cowardly at a glance, but he’s braver than most people give him credit for. Would die for his friends/family.

Full Name: Martin Blackwood-Lukas Age: 8 Birthday: February 29th (Pisces) ((This one’s for you, Dane)) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Lonely, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): William Blackwood (Biological Father - Uninvolved), Edna Blackwood (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Peter Lukas (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: Polish heritage and pale as a fucking ghost, average height for his age but growing fast, pretty chubby, covered head to toe in little red freckles, short and curly red hair, bright brown eyes, wears big round glasses, wears sweaters and comfy trousers almost 24/7, carries a backpack full of “emergency tools” wherever he goes, usually has a cup of tea in-hand, and sometimes wears a small sailor hat that Peter gave him. Personality: Incredibly reserved, much like Mike, but he’s been trying to come out of his shell more. He’s “Best Friends Forever” with Jon, and gets along well with Tim and Sasha as well. Fears Melanie and Daisy. He likes hanging out with the other kids, but he often gets talked over, leading him to withdraw for awhile if it’s bad enough. Adores his dad, and is so much braver than anyone knows. Incredibly snarky when he feels like it.

Full Name: Sasha James Age: 10 Birthday: November 18th (Scorpio) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Web, Marked by The Eye, Marked by The Stranger Guardian(s): Francis James (Biological Father - Deceased), Patrick James (Biological Father - Deceased), Annabelle Cane (Adoptive Mother - Uninvolved), Gertrude Robinson (Adoptive Mother - Current) Appearance: Mixed race heritage of African and Caucasian with dark brown skin, slightly taller than average for her age, long dark brown hair, wears big round glasses, sometimes wears a little make-up if she can get away with it, wears a lot of turtleneck sweaters and long skirts, always has at least one cobweb on her, carries around a stuffed spider that she brings with her to the archives every day, and she wears a headband most of the time. Personality: Easily the most level-headed of the kids, as she’s been raised around paranormal stuff the longest and is rarely bothered by the stranger things that happen. She hates Artifact Storage with a passion, but other than that, she loves exploring the institute and occasionally stealing Gertrude’s laptop to mess with it. Very tech savvy, and even more curious! Incredibly smart, to the point that she can even outclass Gertrude and Gerry with her quick-wittiness.

Full Name: Timothy “Tim” Stoker Age: 12 Birthday: August 3rd (Leo) Entity/Mark(s): Marked by The Stranger, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Markus Stoker (Biological Father - Deceased), Olivia Stoker (Biological Mother - Deceased), Nikola Orsinov (Adoptive Mother - Uninvolved), Gerard “Gerry” Keay (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: Mixed race heritage of Latino and Korean with dark tanned skin, slightly on the taller side for his age, messy/spiky black hair that looks impossible to comb, dark brown eyes, is described as a “handsome young man” by strangers, has a very charming smile, wears a lot of Hawaiian shirts and shorts (even during the winter), needs to wear glasses but he refuses to wear them in the archives out of self-consciousness. Personality: Probably one of the brightest personalities of the avatar kids, Tim comes off as very cool and funny, but underneath all of that he’s rather paranoid, afraid that the circus will come and force his baby brother into becoming a monster. Protective of his little bro and the archive kids, but he still teases them to no end. Smarter than he looks, and isn’t afraid to break his cool guy persona to tell someone off.

Full Name: Daniel “Danny” Stoker Age: 8 Birthday: August 1st (Leo) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Stranger, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Markus Stoker (Biological Father - Deceased), Olivia Stoker (Biological Mother - Deceased), Nikola Orsinov (Adoptive Guardian - Uninvolved), Gerard “Gerry” Keay (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: Mixed race heritage of Latino and Korean with dark tanned skin, about a head shorter than Tim, somewhat neat black hair that sticks up in odd places, eyes are impressively dark and glassy looking, slight gap between his front teeth, is described as being a “handsome young man” by strangers, wears a lot of tank tops and shorts as well as the occasional hoodie if it’s cold, and loves running around barefoot. Personality: A lot of people describe Danny as being a “smaller and cuter Tim”, but that’s just not true. Danny is a lot like his older brother in many ways, but he has a much more refined taste for adventure, constantly getting himself into trouble with Jon on the grounds of “exploring” or what have you. He idolizes his big bro to the moon and back, and loves hanging out with him alongside the other kids. More of a follower than a leader, but he doesn’t mind. Secretly fears the day that the circus will come back to make him into their future ringmaster.

Full Name: Melanie King Age: 9 Birthday: June 7th (Gemini) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Slaughter, Marked by The Corruption, Marked by The Desolation, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Boris King (Biological Father - Deceased), Carrie King (Biological Mother - Deceased), Alfred Grifter (Guardian - Uninvolved), Gerard Keay (Guardian - Current) Appearance: Irish heritage but not terribly pale, rather short for her age, incredibly thin from malnutrition, short brown hair with the ends dyed bright blue, bright brown eyes, brings her leather jacket and her guitar with her everywhere she goes, wears a lot of pink/blue skirts and band t-shirts, wears black leather boots, has a lot of bandages on her knees and knuckles, and always has a camera ready to record things. Personality: Melanie is probably the most disconnected of the avatar kids (save for Helen), seeing as she only just recently joined the group, but already she’s beginning to befriend Sasha and Basira. She’s very protective of the other girls, and she keeps challenging the boys to fight her (only Danny ever agrees; he always loses). Secretly idolizes Julia and Daisy, but will never admit it. She sees Gerry as her big bro and Alfred Grifter as her adoptive dad; she misses Alfred more than she let’s on. Would stab as a warning.

Full Name: Julia Montauk Age: 13 Birthday: April 19th (Aries) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Hunt, Marked by The Dark, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Robert Montauk (Biological Father - Deceased), Linette Montauk (Biological Mother - Deceased), Trevor Herbert (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: Indigenous heritage with dark tan skin, tall for her age, skinny enough to look malnourished, close-cropped red hair that gets her mistaken for a boy a lot, metal grey eyes, a scar runs diagonally across her right eye, often wears medium length skirts and oversized t-shirts, always wears athletic shoes, has a lot of scrapes and bandages on her knees most of the time, and has abnormally sharp canines. Personality: Before the deaths of both of her parents, Julia was considered rather normal for her age, being interested in horses, dolls, and dress-up games. After her mother died, she became more tomboyish, which only became more extreme after her father’s death. Since being taken in by Trevor, Julia’s been trying to act more like an adult in an attempt to seem less vulnerable, to varying degrees of success. She adores Trevor to the moon and back, and sees Daisy as her little sister. A bit standoffish around other children, but she’s got a good heart.

Full Name: Alice “Daisy” Tonner Age: 10 Birthday: March 15th (Pisces) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Hunter, Marked by The Slaughter, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Greyson Tonner (Biological Father - Deceased), Antoinette Tonner (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Trevor Herbert (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: Welsh heritage with cream colored skin and a light tan, average height for her age, short and shaggy blond hair, has a number of tiny scars all over her face and hands, has a huge scar on her back that Trevor has told her looks like a daisy, striking green eyes, wears a lot of sleeveless shirts and shorts, refuses to wear dresses or skirts, prefers to be barefoot, and has abnormally sharp canines. Personality: Is already rather hot-headed at her age, especially after her encounter with Calvin while he was being possessed by a spirit of the Slaughter. Even so, she’s protective of her newfound family of Trevor and Julia, and while she misses her mother, she believes it’s best if she stays where she is. She loves playing outside whenever she can, and will spend hours chasing after squirrels and rabbits if left alone for too long. A bit argumentative, but she gets along really well with Julia and Basira.

Full Name: Oliver Banks Age: 10 Birthday: June 14th (Gemini) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The End, Marked by The Hunt Guardian(s): June Banks (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Isaac Banks (Biological Father - Deceased), The Admiral (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: African heritage with dark skin, has an array of pitch black freckles on his face, short and neat black hair that reaches just below his ears, ghastly grey eyes that look almost clear and turn black when he’s using his powers; used to be dark brown, worryingly thin from years of malnutrition, wears a lot of baggy and long-sleeved shirts, wears sweatpants, has boots on everywhere he goes, and he’s almost always shivering. Personality: The more distrustful of the “End Siblings”, the only person Oliver even sort of likes is Jon, and even then he’s still scared of him. Constantly fidgeting and yawning from both his paranoia and fatigue. Is protective of Georgie, but more out of obligation than friendship. Prefers to be alone, and rarely visits the archives. He knows something bad is coming, but he’s too scared to do much about it. In the end, he knows he’ll do the right thing, but for now he’s hiding until the bombs finally fall.

Full Name: Georgie Barker Age: 7 Birthday: December 9th (Sagittarius) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The End, Marked by The Hunt Guardian(s): Georgie Grounding Sr. (Biological Mother - Deceased), Sarah Grounding (Biological Mother - Deceased), Jason Barker (Adoptive Father - Deceased), The Admiral (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: Mixed race heritage of African and Indian with dark brown skin, fairly chubby, has an array of light brown freckles all over her arms, back, and face, has long and curly black hair done up in poofy buns using colorful hair bands, paints her nails all the time with different colors every week, cutest little smile you ever did see, wears a lot of ghost-related clothing (mainly t-shirts and jeans), and she brings her ghost backpack with her everywhere she goes (it has her stuffed leopard inside). Personality: Despite being an avatar of the End, Georgie has a very upbeat personality, having no time for her adoptive brother’s endless worrying and fearfulness. In fact, all her fear has been gone since she was little, so she’s never scared to explore something new and parade into danger! She’s very close friends with Jon (even if he’s distant sometimes) and best friends with Melanie, though she gets along with most everyone else as well. She may be a chipper person, but look out, she’s carrying more baggage than she let’s on. Loves The Admiral more than life.

Full Name: Michael “Mike” Crew Age: 14 Birthday: May 13th (Taurus) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Vast Guardian(s): Ramsey Crew (Biological Father - Uninvolved), Whitney Crew (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Simon Fairchild (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: Caucasian and pale as a ghost, shaggy white hair that’s almost always wind-swept, strikingly pale blue eyes, smells of ozone and burnt hair, incredibly short for his age, very bony and thin, tends to wear a lot of oversized hoodies on the grounds that they make flying more fun, clothes are almost always pristine and clean, his back, right arm, and right leg are covered in a Lichtenberg scar that glows bright blue when he’s using his powers, permanent bags under his eyes. Personality: A very, very quiet kid, at least around strangers. He’s much bubblier around Simon, but otherwise he’s viewed as an “old soul” by most adults. He does have a sense of humor though, taking a bit too much pleasure out of sending people soaring into the air against their will, especially if they insulted or annoyed him beforehand. Secretly a bit protective of the other avatar kids, and has been known to take them flying if they promise not to let go of him when they do so. Nice kid, but don’t make fun of his height or he might just electrocute you out of spite.

Full Name: Helen Richardson Age: 3 Birthday: February 23rd (Gemini) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Spiral Guardian(s): Tiara Richardson (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Dexter Richardson (Biological Father - Deceased), Michael Shelley (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: African heritage with dark brown skin (has the beginning patches of vitiligo on her face and hands), fairly chubby but Michael swears it’s just baby fat, has bright purple eyes with swirling yellow irises, has short but frizzy black hair that cannot be tamed, is often dressed in very colorful onesies and footie pajamas alongside the rare dress, and occasionally she’ll have a child leash vest on (though it often disappears because of The Spiral). Personality: She honestly doesn’t have much of a personality yet, being a toddler and all, but she’s a very giggly child, and loves nothing more than making Michael “be silly” with the use of her powers. Speaking of which, she has very little control of her abilities, and although she’s too young to understand their impact on the world, she still feels bad when she accidentally goes too far and gets Michael hurt. She adores Michael and Jon, and loves it when Michael brings her to the institute with him. Very playful and mischievous.

And that’s all I’ve got for now! I wanna write some fics for this at some point (particularly I wanna write a fic that has all of the kids’ origin stories in better/more detail), but for now anyone is free to fuck around with this AU, so long as you’re not doing too much shipping between the kids (hints at ships are fine, but they’re still kids, y’all) and ESPECIALLY not any shipping of the kids with the adults/guardians. Feel free to PM me or scream about this AU in the notes/tags; I’d love to hear people’s thoughts!

[chrisrainicorn]

Fair Game Week Day 4: Birds/Soulmates

A classic tattoo AU. Qrow realizes almost immediately Clover could be his soulmate because it’s obvious af, Clover isn’t sure right away because people named after birds are relatively common in Remnant so he needs more proof than that. 

One day he rescues a bird from the snow thinking the poor thing is probably lost and freezing after flying so high to Atlas and Qrow is freaking out internally after seeing his mark because it’s totally him!

So... my original plan was to try to write a fic for this. Tho I knew I wouldn’t be able to complete it on time, and I would need more time to just stop and figure how the story was going to go exactly cuz I’m the kind of person that likes to plan a lot before putting stuff on paper.

I still have a little prologue tho, but I decided not to go further until I’m more sure about the plot so it doesn’t end up forced. Hopefully, I can one day I can go back to it and complete it!! Still, you can take a peek at what would probs be the first 2k under the cut:

Qrow was born with a bond mark.

He was still a rascal of a kid, who ran barefoot and chewed with his mouth open, tripped on the ropes that held up the tents of their current campsite, and liked to try to peek at the new shiny items the tribe people had stolen from their most recent raid only to be caught at the same second - though he still didn’t know they were stolen, or understand what a raid was - when someone finally explained to him the weirdly shaped spot on his abdomen he kept scratching wasn’t just a normal birthmark.

They explained to his sister too. He actually was intrigued enough by the story to settle down on the tent’s floor to hear about it, though she brushed all of that talk off with a “yeah, whatever”, rolling her eyes at the existence of magic symbols that would appear on your skin, connecting you to a person who, at some point of you life, you would realize they mean a lot to you.

“It’s like a guaranteed best friend!” He had grinned with a mouth that missed a few teeth as the explanation was concluded. 

The explainer only smiled at him, letting out a pensive hum before shrugging and deciding on “Yeah, you could say that kid.”

He didn’t understand why his sister was so grumpy after that. How the premise of a friend didn’t get her excited - they barely had kids their age to hang with on the camp, the younger ones were annoying and the older boring, he could get behind the idea of some company besides his moody twin. And when he had asked, “Hey, what does your bond mark look like anyway?” She flicked at his direction one of the pebbles they had been throwing at the river to see them skip, and stormed off without a word.

He was still a restless kid, yet now one that had learned to avoid the ropes before he could get his foot caught on them, when he found out a bit more about the marks. How they could appear at any time of your life, or not at all, how you could get a new tattoo before actually meeting the person, or after years of knowing them. How his sister didn’t have one yet, how she didn’t like the idea of her lame brother having something she didn’t. 

How some people would consider lucky he was born with one, how many would give everything to have a mark appear that early.

That would be the last time someone thought of him that way - lucky. Because soon he was tripping over the ropes again and taking tents down with him, and that was just one of the minor consequences of what they later would classify as his semblance.

The people of their tribe had thought it had been a funny inside joke naming the kid born with a mark shaped like that after a bird that was popularly known as a bad omen. Now it was just rightfully fitting. And not even the permanent tattoo on his skin of a four-leafed clover could serve as a good luck charm against the misfortune that now followed him wherever he went.

***

As he grew up as an outcast teen, the novelty of the marks went away together with the childhood wonder. Maybe because at his tribe, there weren’t many bonded people - they also weren’t really open about talking about this mushy stuff, so maybe he never knew about them. Or the ones who talked about it, did that because it came together with an almost-always tragic tale about how they were betrayed, backstabbed or straight-up stabbed by their match, or how they perished in some gruesome way, so he didn’t have a lot of positive examples to work with - perks of growing up around bandits. 

Guaranteed best friend was now just some naive though he scoffed at. He was so stupid as a kid, maybe his sister was wise to just go “whatever” since the beginning - he would never admit that to her in his lifetime, of course. (In the future though, there would be a point his sister wouldn't make a face to the mention of bond marks anymore, and then a good while later he would stop to really think about how her semblance worked. And he would connect the two dots - he still never saw the marks, but they had to be there, right?)

Who decided those things were a good idea? They could pop up on you any second, without a warning, with just a random shape to tell you about this random person you were supposed to meet one random day. People would talk about letting fate run its course until you would meet them, and how there would be a moment when you would just know. It sounded so unreliable, and too much for him to bother worrying about when he needed to survive frequenting - or infiltrating as his people would have put - a Huntsman Academy.

Yeah, they would have some impact on your life. But that could mean anything apparently. You could be bonded to your parents, to your siblings, to any relative, you could be bonded to someone you looked up to or who would look up to you, you could be bonded to someone who you would only interact for a few months, days, minutes, or less. Or, the most coveted of all, you could be bonded to someone you would fall in love with. Those cases even had a specific name - soulmates. How special.

You could even have more than one. If you thought having to worry about a single unknown individual could make someone paranoid, just imagine having multiple marks! Thankfully, he just had one.

That was good. Because it would be just one person that would have to put up with him. He wasn't exactly the person someone would dream to meet, much less be bonded with. Who would want a bad luck magnet connected to them anyway? Just unfortunate, how the unsuspected match would have to deal with it. At least it was no one from the tribe, that would only hinder them down - those were the kind of things people talked about him at the camp, on the rare times they dared to make the cursed kid a conversation topic anyway, and he was just unlucky enough to eavesdrop it.

He also didn’t want more because he despised the one he already had - he would say he had never liked it, but it was just his sour mindset clouding the childhood memories about him happily imagining how his friend would be like. It had to be a sick joke. A small symbol that represented everything he couldn’t have. Years and years went by with it just there, mocking him constantly.

He had met many people he would have said they had influenced his life, yet apparently none of them were the one. Unlikely his sister, he wasn't bonded with anyone from his team - he assumed her semblance only worked on him because they were related. He wasn't bonded to the man who mentored him and gave a purpose in life - though after finding out the truth, he supposed that was a good thing. He wasn't bonded to his nieces, who were more family to him than his own blood, girls he had watched grow up from hyperactive, sweet-toothed brats to strong, independent young warriors - they were still a bit of a brat though.

So, at his age, he assumed that his semblance affected him in such a way he would never have the luck of finding the person. Fine by him. He stopped caring about that long ago anyway.

And that meant that, at his age, at this place, in the middle of what he could only call the beginning of a war, he should have not been thinking about any of this.

But here he was. Halfway through undressing to take a much needed shower to relax and warm him up after the mission at the dust mines. Feet planted in front of the bathroom mirror. The mark still just there, right at the end of the scar he got from a scorpion tail as if, by some stroke of luck, it had barely avoided being slashed in half. He instinctively grimaced at the sight.

Even if he strongly didn’t want to think about it, it felt as if there was a force preventing him from shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, not allowing him to ignore the signs.

He had seen the pin when they were captured on the first day. Heck, he even did a double-take at the shape that was unfortunately too familiar. But there were other more important things on his mind at the moment - like how they were being arrested.

Later he found out that was literally that guy’s name! And he didn't like how the information made a cold settle on the bottom of his stomach.

And then James partnered them up. He didn't like the idea, it had been too long since he had worked with other huntsmen on the field - and that happened for a reason. The company made him feel weirdly numb. Or that was him not being used to the cold of Atlas anymore, being in a mine with ice-covered walls certainly didn't help - how he just strutted along without sleeves?

Yet, he did his best to focus on the mission. Ignoring how Clover made sure to match his pace and walk by his side as they scanned the tunnels for any sign of the Grimm that had been wrecking the place. The silence would only be broken from time to time with inputs coming from his earpiece, and it had been just a step away from being uncomfortable. So he decided to not make this situation more unbearable for himself, taking a breath, he took a risk at the grueling task that was small talk.

“Gotta say, I’m still not really used to working with other huntsmen in the field.” He was surprised with how casual he made himself sound.

“But you were on a team before, weren’t you?” How Clover seamlessly encouraged the conversation with a question also surprised him for some reason.

“Long time ago.” He sighed, gaze dropping to the floor. “I just found working alone tends to be for the best.” Great. With just a second into their talk, he had managed to bring its mood down. Not an unusual occurrence for any kind of interaction he was involved though. So why this time did he feel so… bothered?

It was just this entire situation bothering him - he rationalized with himself.

"Well, I think that’s a shame." Of course you would.

He didn't know how to respond, yet he didn't even have the chance. One misstep, and his foot left the ground with a slip. What prevented him from making more of a fool of himself by crashing his face on the icy floor was a quick strong grip on his arm, catching him mid-fall and pulling him back up without seemingly any effort whatsoever.

Clover patted his shoulder as he regained his balance and he didn't hold back the frown on his face. He just walked forward as he responded to the voice coming from his communicator, and it took him a second to realize he was glaring at his confident walk on the grounds he had just proved to be extremely slippery. 

Who does this guy think he is?

Of course, they found the Grimm first, of course, it made himself stronger right in front of their eyes, of course, it ran away, and of course, there was now a gigantic hole on their path. One his partner there could have been at the bottom of it if he wasn't used to his semblance playing tricks just at the right time. 

And when he dismissed his thanks for the head ups with a brief explanation about his semblance, his reaction was like no other he experienced before. No weird glances, no steps back, no awkward ‘that sucks’, just a nonchalant "that so?" 

"Well, hey, don’t beat yourself up about it." He continued, and with a swing of his weapon, he made a new path for them to continue down the tunnel. "My Semblance is good fortune. Lucky you, huh?"

He punctuated his sentence with a wink before walking forward, completely unaware of how that revelation had shaken him to his core. He was still frozen on his tracks as if the ice from the floor had risen to his shoes and stuck him in place. 

Good fortune. That guy was a walking luck charm! 

Everything he couldn’t have… 

His eyes were downcast, flickering everywhere as his mind processed the events. Yet now he wasn’t staring down at the icy ground, but the smooth tiles of the bathroom of his room provided by the Atlas academy. Though his expression was the same from when the words had just reached his ears hours ago.

Looking up by a fraction, the ink of his mark seemed more lively than ever against his skin. He hadn’t truly looked at it for a good while, avoiding it like he avoided the eyes of strangers, and doing so now, he found out he was unable to divert his gaze off it as quickly as he used to do before.

A pin. A name. My semblance is good fortune. A wink.

You would just know.

He let out a dry chuckle, the sound devoid of any emotion. That couldn’t be right. He barely knew the guy. And he didn’t need any of that cluttering his mind right now.

Lucky you, huh?

[dindooku]

right i know i said i would make this mega juicy but the sad boi hours hit and... well. just read it.

i’m sorry.

You thought you wanted to escape.

You thought you wanted to be free.

You thought you wanted to be alone.

Tradegy only strikes when the mind and soul are in disilusionment; when the body is so preoccupied chasing its lust that it refuses to listen to its reason.

Blind.

rating: Mature/Explicit (had descriptions of blood and violence etc and depressive/dark thoughts)

- please be warned this chapter is sad af, so if you can’t/do not want to read about sad boi hours please do not read

word count: 4,940

————————

You didn't bother sleeping that night, your mind was too busy thinking of ways to escape the Mandalorian.

You were nothing but cheated, it felt like. And upon further contemplation, you'd practically convinced yourself that you didn't mean anything to him and that he'd just played you as everyone else had. There were no feelings, no personal sentiments, no attachment between him and you; and it hurt. He'd gotten what he wanted, and would continue to control and manipulate you behind your back, clutching your sense of freedom and chaining you to the cold confines of the Razor Crest.

You didn't want to believe this, though. You wanted more than anything for your mind to be playing tricks on you, and for your feelings, your true hidden feelings to be true. You wanted him to want you, to trust you. you wanted to work as a team, a power-couple you could say. But the fact of the matter at hand is that Mando had no interest in you helping him, working or even having any sort of independence at all.  

You felt so confused.

On one hand, you wanted to stay, to give in and just be the stay at home babysitter Mando wanted you to be. But on the other hand, you wanted to finally be free, to do what you want and just go wild. Gideon had awoken something deep, something dark within you and you knew it'd only be a matter of time before you couldn't contain it anymore. You had to get out and release some energy - you wanted to on Nevarro but Din had stopped you, and you wanted to the other day when he left for his bounty, but yet again Mando demanded you stay on the ship.

It was suffocating.

Your choice was clear. You only really had one option, run. Run as far and as fast as you can. he was one of the best trackers in the galaxy, but you were a vicious machine bred and trained, ruthless and aggressive. You would do anything to taste the sweet buzz of adrenaline again, to feel truly alive once more. You were addicted to it, the smell of violence tugged at your heart, and the sadistic bite of pain made your insides twist and turn in with-drawl. You really couldn't control it any longer. The sweet temptations of the galaxy before you we're all-encompassing.

Back to the plan. It was night, the ship was sunken into the blanket of night. You checked the wall clock, 02:19AM. Perfect; Din would be asleep around now and locked away in his cabin with the Kid - that meant no distractions. You quietly slid out of the bed, silently slipping on your trousers, tunic and everything else you'd need - both your thigh knife holsters and the chest cueress. you slid on the poncho Mando had let you borrow to keep warm and slowly left the cabin.

And you were practically on autopilot. You made no sound as you edged around the hull - ensuring you missed furniture and loose bits of metal as you had memorised the ship in the little time you'd spent on it. You found yourself stood just outside of Din's cabin, right next to the weapons cabinet. You had one shot at this, and you prayed to the maker above that he was in a deep enough sleep to not wake up to the sound of you ransacking his weapons stash. As quietly as you could, you tapped the code into the keypad to the right and the doors swung open, you caught them before they made the classic tap against the wall of the ship.

You didn't have much time, hurry.

You eyed the contents and quickly grabbed the two Karambit knives Mando had gifted you, along with the bag and belt of throwing knives, and two combat Beskar knives too. You *borrowed* a couple of charges as well as a blaster, which you hastily tucked into the back of your pants. You eyed the cupboard for something to holster it in, and you found yourself lucky as you grabbed a secondary thigh holster. You're pretty sure it was one of Mando's shin holsters he used for the Vibro-blade that sat tucked in his boot, but it'd hold the blaster for now and it was small enough to wrap the upper part of your thigh. Perfect. You needed credits too - you hated having to steal from Din, but if you had any chance of getting off if this rock without him, you had to do what was necessary; so you took the bag of credits sat comfy in the corner of the cupboard and emptied a few into your hands. You took what you needed and placed the credits into the pouch with the throwing knives.

With as much caution as before, you closed the doors to the cupboard, to then hastily make your way to the kitchen. You grabbed what you could that was at hand, a few protein bars, an empty flask and a dried packet of fruit. You didn't fill up the flask as you knew the sound of running water would wake Din up - you could find somewhere on the way. He'd left a shoulder satchel in the corner of the room and you swung it over your shoulder, placing more food and other bits into it as stealthily as you could.

You'd got everything you needed, now came the hard part. You crept out of the kitchen and into the main hull, quietly stepping until you were face to face with the ramp. You knew this would wake him up, but you were betting on the fact that he was either in really, really deep sleep or he would be too slow getting up and out to catch the direction you'd be leaving. That was another thing.

Where would you go?

You thought back to your survival training and countless hours spent tracking, stalking targets. You could do this, you were more than qualified. trust in yourself.

You took a deep breath before punching the code into the keypad for the ramp. the loud whir of electric motors grinding into life reverberated through the hull, and you didn't miss the distinctive clash and thud of Din falling out of his bed and trying his best to put his armour on.

But he was too slow.

By the time he'd gotten into the cockpit and aimed his blaster, you were gone.

---

You ran like your life depended on it - well, it pretty much did because you knew if Din caught up to you you were practically dead anyway. The man had pretty good taps on his temper but you were sure that he would just about lose his shit if he got hold of you. And that adrenaline, that fantastic sick rush is what fuelled you to run, and run, and run.

Luckily you had been quick enough to leave the ship, and Din didn't manage to get a grip on which direction you'd left - but you knew he had some sort of tracking gadget in that metal lid of his so you would have to be smart. Find somewhere busy and mix up the tracks, maybe even switch out your footwear or - wait, you could carve a new tread into the soles of your boots; perfect. But not now, because if he was tracking you he'd instantly notice the change - you needed commotion to confuse and render his tracking software useless.

You'd been running for around an hour now - more than your body would normally be able to cope with at this tempo, but you couldn't rest, you had to find a way off of this planet. You took a second to take in your surroundings. The heavy bushland had initially thickened into a desolate forest, but after some time you found the tree density to be thinning out, and after another half hour of running you found yourself at the back entrance to some sort of settlement or town.

You took a second to compose yourself, it was still incredibly early in the morning, but you didn't have time to wait.

You strode into the town, and it became apparent quite quickly that luck was on your side. As you peered around the corner the lights of a shipyard lit up in the far distance of the settlement. It wasn't anything big, but it was enough - a couple of ships lay dormant in the 5 or 6 bays at the far end of town.

You'd never stolen a ship before.

Trying not to act suspicious in case anyone was watching, you walked down through the main street of the town. The grass and moss had all but withered away into a solid dirt track, and the huts made of wood from the forest trees littered the surrounding landscape. It was quiet but serene, and you definitely felt a pang of guilt knowing that you were not the type of person that would be welcome here, you'd only cause trouble; and by the looks of things, they didn't get much trouble around here. Eventually, you found yourself at the entry of the shipyard and you let your eyes roll over the selection of docked ships. Instantly you knew two of the prospective six were off-limits as their owners sat outside, slumped over in their chairs next to each other - and by the looks of the empty bottles of alcohol, they were out for good. This was ideal, things couldn't be better. As you scanned the area, you noticed the ship you'd be taking.

It was an odd shape, but for some reason or another, you couldn't help but feel like you'd seen it before. It was definitely familiar, but from where you wouldn't know. It had a long snout of sorts and was sharp and precise in its craftsmanship. On either side, long triangles perched high, like ears. It was definitely unique, but it was in tidy condition and would do for what you needed.

Taking another look around, you quietly made your way over. To your astonishment, the ship was left unlocked. Surely a ship of this condition wouldn't be left in such a state of complete in-security? Either way, finders keepers.

You pressed the button to open the ramp and quickly made your way inside as it closed behind you. You hurried into the cockpit, instantly recognising the universal controls and powering the ship on. You clicked the holo-map and found the quickest path out of the atmosphere into space, you could worry about where to go later, you just needed to get off the ground. Flipping the switch for the thrusters, you felt the blazing roar of engines vibrate the cockpit and before you could think twice about what you were doing, you'd pulled the control arm back and were lifting into the sky. Turning the ship in a 180 away from the direction of the Razor Crest, you edged your way out from the dock and into the pre-planned flight path you'd programmed just moments before.

And just like that, you were gone. ---

Din awoke to the sound of the Razor Crest ramp opening, and before he could even register what he was doing, he was clumsily stumbling out of his bed and onto the hard dura-steel floor. The Kid awoke with a startled cry, and the bashing and clanking of Beskar being hurriedly worn didn't help matters - he could sense something was wrong. But Din wasn't fast enough, as when the door to his cabin opening and he strode out, blaster pointed and finger itching on the trigger, the hull was empty.

Odd, there's no one here, why - wait.

Din ran over to your cabin but knew better than to barge in. Instead, he hastily rapped his knuckles against the door.

"Hey! Wake up, did you open the ramp, are you ok?" Nothing. Dead silence. He tried again, this time knocking harder and with a bit more haste. "HEY! GET UP," and again, there was no response. Something wasn't right. He knew that breaking into your room was a complete breach of your privacy, but he'd rather deal with the consequences of your wrath than find you hurt, or worse. He shot the blaster into the keypad of the door and it flew open, but what he found was not what he expected. He expected you to either be asleep or to even be mid-fight with an intruder. Not for you to not be there.

This was worse, so much worse.

He turned and punched the side of the wall, groaning out in both parts pain from the impact of his knuckles against the dura-steel, and part from the rage and frustration at the realisation that this was his fault.

You'd left him.

The only person he could ever confide in, to let his guard down and allow himself to have some sort of pleasure in life; the only person he trusted, and you were gone. He didn't have time for this though, he had to find you, apologise, just do something. He couldn't let you just walk away from this, you'd been through too much together, and if you weren't there with him, he couldn't protect you. He'd nearly lost you once, he couldn't do it again.

He all but ran to the weapons locker, grabbing his pulse rifle and a few charges, the usual load-out he would take when tracking a bounty - and that's what he supposed this was, it was his job to track people, its all he'd ever done. Yet he still felt as nervous as his first time - what if he didn't find you?

And then the question of *why* burned its way to the front of his mind. What had he done to push you away like this?  Yes, you'd shared a few intimate moments, but he was under the impression that, well, you enjoyed it just as much as he did... what had he done so wrong to make you want to leave, without even saying goodbye? He understood you were frustrated with him for stopping you from coming with him, but he only wanted what was best for both you and the Kid - taking you both with him was just not on the cards, even on a safe planet like this. You were more than capable of holding your own, that was made evident by the way you handled the Bounty that he'd brought back not a few hours ago. It was incredible, the way you moved so effortlessly but with clear, unhinged violence; it was beautiful, *you* were beautiful - yet he hated the ironic bond you shared with aggression and beauty - it was like you couldn't have one without the other, that your DNA was composed of the complicated connection both traits possessed and any attempt to strip or mutate your makeup would ruin you. Deep down he wished you weren't as skilled as you were because then he would have a reason other than his own selfishness to tell you to stay behind. But, he didn't... you were made to fight like he was, and he was being the biggest damn hypocrite by denying your basic rights to freedom.

He had to put these feelings aside. Focus on the task at hand - finding you and making sure you were safe. He would turn this galaxy upside down, wreak undying havoc among those that stopped him from getting to you.

He had to hunt like his life depended on it.

---

You had safely made it out of the upper atmosphere and were now sat comfortably in the vacuum of space. Your fingers trailed the star map in front of you - desperate to find somewhere to bunker low, maybe even take on some underground work and earn a few extra credits, just enough to tide you over so you can resupply and form a contingency plan.

Yavin...nope, Hoth...nope, Mustafar, definitely not...Tatooine...

Tatooine.

Perfect.

You'd heard of the secluded little dust planet on the outer rim, and it was notorious for its harbouring of the Hutts and criminals alike. That's exactly what you were looking for, you'd fit right in; plus you knew it'd be easy to get work, maybe even an underground bounty or two?

You punched in the flight plan and took a swig of water from the flask you'd just recently filled up. you had struck gold with this ship - it was full of food and medical supplies, and even had an impressive cabinet of weapons too. it was exactly what you needed. So, without hesitation, you were off.

_____

You honestly thought he'd have found you by now, but you mused the growing fear that maybe you were right.

He didn't care about you.

It had been eight months now and Din still hadn't shown his face.

Your time on Tatooine had been one you hadn't expected. You initially fled to the sandbox to get away from Din and abuse the freedom you thought you had earned, but the gimmick soon wore thin and now you were living like a hermit in the middle of the desert. You'd tried to save face after a particularly violent cantina shootout which was incidentally but unsurprisingly your fault, and so you fled the small town of Mos Espa. You trawled the desert for a few days until you came across a nice little secluded cave. Upon further inspection it seemed to be abandoned, the telltale traces of a previous life from long ago littered the inside. Dusty blankets and old kitchenware were tidily packed away as if the previous owner knew they wouldn't return, but they left things in such an order in which anyone would still be welcome in their domain. And so you took solitude in this little hiding spot of yours, bringing the ship back for safekeeping by parking it just next to the entrance of the cave.

The supplies on the ship had lasted you a while, three weeks if you rationed sensibly - but you knew you couldn't keep it up for long so get yourself busy with renovating the place. You came across the skeletal remnants of a water catcher and after a couple of days of tinkering, you got the old bit of kit running. That was your water sorted, now just food.

Whilst you had enough credits to last you a while, you reasoned on finding a somewhat stable source of income that would allow you to buy essentials, bits and pieces and any materials you may need to keep the water catcher running. So, at the start of your second week in your new humble abode, you set out for Mos Espa, and after a few drop-ins and questionable interview tactics, you'd managed to grab yourself a job as a barmaid.

It didn't pay particularly well, but it was just enough to get by and put food on the table. Life was simple.

Sweet.

Innocent.

Something you never thought you would be entitled to, something you knew you didn't deserve the privilege of experiencing. You had done enough damage in your lifetime to warrant another full of debt - and yet you found yourself on your back, counting the stars in a constellation you hadn't seen before, the cold touch of night soothing the phantom pain of singularity - the regret of your choice to be alone.

Because as much as you loved this new quiet life you had manufactured, it was nothing worth substance if you were not to share it with anyone.

You craved the intimate connection forged between two souls - that of which you would read about in mythical books of old, or listen upon as wise words were spoken in hindsight around the dying light of a fire. The indescribable feeling of love, companionship, trust.

It was something you had never felt in completion, and the slightest taste had you craving more to the point of insanity.

You thought you wanted to escape.

You thought you wanted to be free.

You thought you wanted to be alone.

Tragedy only strikes when the mind and soul are in disillusionment; when the body is so preoccupied chasing its lust that it refuses to listen to its reason.

Blind.

But you supposed that it all made sense now. The false pretences you had stumbled across, this home you had forged out of desperation for freedom.

Home isn't the place, the bricks or windows or doors.

Home is where the heart is, and your heart resided in the lost arms of Beskar.

_____

"Hey, Grogu?" Din asked from the pilot's seat. The little green gremlin's head shot up out of recognition, his toothy grin and litte 'eh?' spurring the hidden grin igniting on Din's face.

"You think she's ok, out there?" He asked.

"Patoo?" Grogu grunted.

Din chuckled, turning back to face the viewport before replying, "Y'know, wherever she is. Do you think she is doing alright?" He mused, head resting back against the seat. His search to find any Jedi willing to train Grogu had coming up short. Ahsoka had sent him to the seeing stone; she said Grogu would make his decision. His decision was to stay with the Mandalorian. Din was torn by this, he wanted Grogu to learn the way of his people, to become the incredible Jedi he knew he could be - whatever a Jedi truly was anyway; but he also needed Grogu more than many would realise. Din didn't let it on, but the day you left, he had never been the same. He had Grogu, yes, but that was different.

Grogu gave him something to focus on, something to care and nurture, to keep him grounded whenever he found himself wanting to just fly away from the mess he called a life.

But you gave him something to live for. He'd never mourned the loss of presence, of physical contact. He practically lived by a code that repressed said urges; a code that denied any humility. And yet for the last eight months, all he had done was grieve the loss of your lost promises, his own wishes for comfort.

People deal with loss in different ways, but like you, Din found himself being irresponsible. Hed made stupid mistakes. Hed done things he would never be able to seek forgiveness from for simply speaking the words would surely cast him as nothing but wild. Hed committed sins he knew earned him a first-class seat to the fiery pits of beyond, but the pain of your absence was torturous enough as it was, and he'd rather pay his debt with interest than feel the consequences of your disappearance any longer than he needed to. So after the few wreckless weeks of pure unbridled rage, and after a stern intervention from Cara and Carga, he finally managed to see somewhat straight.

He would find you, he had to. He would hunt you down like prey as his life depended on it.

Because it did.

He was truly alone.

The silence had never been so loud.

The nightmares had never been so violent.

______

You'd never seen the place so busy.

It was your lucky night it seemed, as you handed one of your friendly regulars their eighth drink. The cantina was flourishing, overflowing to the point where your boss Roscoe had to open up the back to allow for the partons to use the backyard as a makeshift drinks garden. It was the height of Tattoine summer and the suns were setting later and later into the night with each day that passed. It wasn't just the high suns and glorious weather that attracted your customers though, it was the now tactfully reduced amount of clothing you were wearing,

See, it was tactical for two reasons.

A - it was extremely hot and wearing any layers more than what was necessary was a form of self-punishment - so your ripped dregs for clothing would have to do. B - the fewer clothes you wore, the more tips you made.

At first, it felt wrong to scala van your body in this way, but you really needed the credits if you were to have any chance of leaving this dustbowl. You were tired of waiting for someone who is not coming back. So, anywhere better than here would do.

A loud whistle sounded from the other side of the bar. Rolling your eyes internally you reminded yourself that your shift ended in half an hour and you could be out of here and back in your bed within the hour. You turned, strolling over to the greasy bounty hunter who had called you over, your exposed hips swaying with more swagger than you actually possessed.

"Yes Honey?" You said in the fake charm you wore in the bar.

"Sweetheart, would you mind passing me a glass of your strongest?" The man winked as he spoke, the yellow and black spots of his lack of dental hygiene making you internally cringe. But you needed the credits and you didn't fancy another bar fight.

"Sure Honey, one half of our strongest is coming right up," you mused, seductively winking as you reached up the bar and grabbed the watered-down bottle of Correllian whiskey.

"Here'y'are Darlin, enjoy," winking as you walked away to serve the next customer. But you froze as you turned.

A metallic shine flashed from the far corners of the cantina, hidden.

Your head whipped around at the pace of stars but landed empty-handed. The stall was empty. You really had thought you'd gotten over the Mandalorian by now, and it had been a few weeks since you'd had any fleeting thoughts or wanton urges. But you could've sworn you saw the telltale reflection of Beskar under neon lights. You shook your head at the thought and proceeded with your next order.

"Pretty thing you are aren't ya?"

"Thanks, Daru, such a poet with your words," you giggled convincingly at the regular. Daru had always been kind but his intentions were always clear. He wanted your body. You'd entertained the thought of it as a means of therapy, but it was fleeting and you swore to yourself you wouldn't fall that low. Daru was a handsome man, yes - honey-rich blonde curls and hazy green eyes spoke something of a mystery, of excitement. But the thought of adventure didn't tickle you like it used to, instead it petrified you. That excitement was only fuelled by one, and that fuel was finite.

"Just for tonight sweetheart, I'll make it worth your while," he murmurs, his lips sealed around the edge of the pint glass but his eyes fixed on yours. You lifted an eyebrow at him out of surprise.

"I'm sure you would Daru, but I am tired and haven't eaten all day, I just want to go home." You admit, hoping that the honesty card would steer him clear of you.

"I'll cook ya something if you like?" He offers.

"Its ok Daru, thankyou," you smiled solemnly - he was in no state to cook let alone perform.

"Why is it pretty women like you always turn down good guys like us, hmm?" He spits. You turn from where you'd been walking away, the previous softness you faked for him now shifting into a cold glare, but he continued despite your silent warning, "do ya just want arseholes who fuck you and leave you in the dirt, who hurt you and take what they want without askin'?"

"Daru..." you warn, your hand slipping to hover over the karambit hidden under the ripped chiffon of your thigh.

"What? Are you gonna beat me up, princess? What is a pretty little thing like you gonna do to a fuckup of a man like me? I've hurt people sweetheart." He hisses, standing aggressively and squaring his shoulders to you from across the bar.

The cantina is silent, all eyes now trained on you.

You tried so, so hard not to lose your shit. And you nearly held it together until Daru spoke one too many words.

"You're just a pretty mouth and a fuckable cunt"

Before he had time to react, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt, his face now only moments away from yours.

"And I've killed people, Daru, I've killed people for a lot less," you whisper to just him. His eyes widen, his realisation that the glint in your eye wasn't that of fear, but of restraint. Daru shifted and pulled but it was no use. You grabbed his empty glass from the side of the bar table and smashed it across his temple, the glass shattering and cutting both his head and your palm. But this didn't phase you as you moved your hand to the back of his head and pushed his temple into the glassy shards littering the table. He screamed as the sandy shards embedded into his flesh, but his plight was short-lived as you plunged the sharpened Beskar which hid on your hip into the nape of his neck, pinning his now lifeless body to the table.

The blood poured like a fine rum.

"Out." You mutter, but it was loud enough for those inside to hear and within a few seconds the room was empty.

"He had it coming." Comes a familiar metallic voice.

"Excuse me?" You chide as you look up, but stalling in your tracks.

There he stood.

The plight of your nightmares for the last year.

Confident and swave.

Regrettably so.

[knit-wear-it]

A Veterinarian Wasn't Going To Cut It This Time II

Mood: What happened after A Veterinarian Wasn't Going To Cut It This Time I + some Marty backstory because why not. 

Rating: M / Somber AF. 

Note: Marty had an older brother called Sean O’Riley, who was killed by Marty Sullivan as Penguin informs us in The Harlequin Chapter 17. 

"And yet you are an O'Riley," Penguin propped his chin up in his palm, shaking his head incredulously. "The greatest assassins Gotham has ever seen."

"Aye," Marty nodded shortly. "But not for some time now."

"Of course ," Penguin gushed sympathetically. "Mickey Sullivan... he killed your brother Sean, didn't he?"

"Aye," Marty confirmed, his face darkening.

Blame @promise-notabot​

A Veterinarian Wasn't Going To Cut It This Time II, a Tumblr-Exclusive

"Jack!" Marty patted the Joker's face hard, making his head rock to the side lifelessly. Blood was still pouring from his mouth, pouring from his body impossibly fast. His heart was still going, but fuck knew for how long. "Oh fuck, fuck."

Marty had seen many men, and women, and some fucking kids too, die from a bullet to the chest. It took longer to die than the movies made it seem like. Sometimes they were awake for a few horrible minutes before they lost consciousness and then it happened soon after. Sometimes the shock of a bullet ripping through them was too much for their brains to keep them conscious, but even then it was a matter of minutes before their hearts stopped, and a few seconds after that the brain was dead, and that was it, they were gone.

How many minutes had it been now? Since J was shot. Since Marty arrived. Since he made that call. How many more minutes before those fuckers arrived. Fuckers Marty didn’t trust as far as he could fucking throw them. But those fuckers were J’s best bet for surviving this. 

Then there were sirens outside, getting louder as they drew closer. Marty looked between J and the door, which was still standing ajar behind him. Were those sirens the fucking coppers? A gunshot would have been heard by neighbours, and oh fuck, Marty couldn’t imagine making a run for it with J laying here fucking dying. 

He took his pulse again. Still going, still weak. 

Sean always said Jack would be a hard little fucker to kill. 

“Fuck,” Marty sobbed, slapping a hand over his mouth as tears started to burn in his eyes. He was overcome. Memories and feelings and past-trauma overwhelming him. 

Then there was a screech of tires outside and the front door slammed open, and four men stormed in, carrying a gurney between them. They weren’t your usual EMTs, but they were wearing face masks, and outside a proper ambulance was parked on the curb, its lights flashing. 

Marty scrambled out of the way as the men snapped at him to move, their English heavily accented. He ended up in the corner against the wall, staring blindly as they lifted J onto the gurney, did some medical trickery, then hauled him up and rushed him out. 

Was it minutes, or seconds? Marty didn’t know, but once they’d gotten J out the front door he hauled himself to his feet and staggered after them, out onto the townhouse’s front steps. 

As the men loaded J into the ambulance, a sleek black sedan slid up behind it. The driver got out to open the back door, and the other doors opened simultaneously. Two men wearing slim black suits like the driver climbed out, all three of them Chinese. The Lucky Hand Triad’s guards.

Then a fourth man got out, his gray three-piece suit better cut, that sense of entitlement some fuckers just had suggesting he was in a position of authority. It was one of Boss Lau’s sons, but Marty could never keep straight which one of those fuckers was which. 

Lau’s son watched impassively as his men loaded the Joker into the ambulance and slammed the door shut. Then he turned to Marty, who was only just about staying on his feet at the top of the townhouse’s steps, covered in J’s blood, breathing hard with his heart racing, feeling like he was hovering over his own body. Maybe it was the coke, or maybe it was a panic attack. He hadn’t had one of those in years.

“Mr O’Riley.”

The ambulance was speeding away, and Lau was standing there a few steps below Marty with his guards flanking him, the driver waiting at the car. All calm and professional as if there wasn’t blood all over the fucking sidewalk and in the snow and they’d just taken the Joker. The fucking Joker. 

“Where you takin’ him?” Marty demanded, his voice thick. 

Lau smiled faintly, like he found Marty’s distress amusing or maybe predictable. The sick fucker. 

“That is none of your concern,” Lau replied smoothly. “The Lucky Hand considers its debt to you paid.”

“Where the fuck are you takin’ him?” Marty’s voice rose, growing emotional. It made him look weak but he didn’t fucking care.

“A safe place,” Lau reassured him, patronizing as all fuck. “We have excellent and discrete doctors on our payroll.” Then he smiled again, thin-lipped, cruel. “But of course, we cannot be held responsible if he does not survive. As I said, the Lucky Hand considers its debt to you paid.” 

With that, Lau nodded, turned on his heel, and swept away, his guards following close behind him. 

Marty couldn’t bring himself to shout after Lau or call him a motherfucker. He just stared numbly as the black sedan pulled away, leaving him alone with snow flurries drifting down around him. They were growing heavier, sticking to his eyelashes and melting into his hair, landing in the blood, absorbing its darkening stain. 

He spun around and stomped back into the townhouse, slamming the front door shut so hard the whole wall rattled. Confronted with the mess on the stairs, he swallowed thickly, hearing his brother Sean’s words again -- That Jack will be a hard little fucker to kill -- and Marty braced himself before climbing the bloodied staircase, preparing himself for another body. Harley, maybe. Harley cut up by Victor.

But it wasn’t Harley. It was Bruno. Flat on his back, dead, his brains on the wall. 

Bruno. Fucking Bruno. 

Marty sagged against the wall and covered his mouth with his hand as another sob threatened to rip out of him. Not fucking Bruno too. 

His legs gave out and he slid down the wall, gasping for breath, feeling like he was suffocating under the weight of it all. That head-spinning sense of rising out of his body hit him again even harder, his heart racing and hands trembling. Gasping, gasping, gasping like he was gonna fucking die.

Focus on the floor beneath you, Sean used to say. Breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. 

But it wouldn’t pass this time. They were all fucking dead.

Fuck. Fuck. 

A/N: Okay, now THAT is all from me. Lol.

Tiny snippet of Marty backstory for shits & giggles.

[abri-chan]

A long Universal Brain thread on why Guido Mista is best boy

His life philosophy is enlightening, and something we should all follow: Enjoy simple pleasures in life. Care about others. Worry only when you have to.

He made a snowboard out of frozen grass. How cool is that? Never gets hit by any bullets, except his own. Can only be killed by getting hit by exactly four bullets at once (which is why no one has managed to kill the boy so far).

Has done something that most JoJo characters have trouble doing: cooperate. He learned how to best use Giorno’s powers, and how to combine Giorno’s stand power with his own. IQ 1000.

Luckiest unlucky (unluckiest lucky) bastard. Bruno, Narancia & Abbacchio got some Rolling Stone dust on them, and died. Mista held the thing, and survived like a boss. When the nuclear holocaust gets us all, only Mista and cockroaches will survive. Or the symbiosis: MistaRoach.

Drinks respect juice. Kills rapists. Saw Abbacchio disrespect Giorno? Time to announce the boss called. So easygoing and friendly, you’ll win his loyalty with 5 servings of bruschetta.

He impressed Giorno Giovanna. Only Giorno Giovanna can impress Giorno Giovanna.

Has beautiful curly hair under his beanie/hat, and that’s how he manages to keep bullets up there, all tangled in his hair. Doesn’t take off his hat, or shower, so that mere mortals like us can have a shot at getting laid. Otherwise he’d get all the genders.

Jacked af. Have you seen those arms? Those pecs? Inverted stomach. Not flat, inverted. Thunder thighs. Doesn’t squat, yet has a bubble butt. David Pro had to revoke his ass privilege, else we’d all die from nosebleeding.

“Is that a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me? ”

“Yes.”

#1 Dad. Could you take care of 6 kids? Also the Sex Pistols are adorable, and one of the few sentient stands we get to see. Feeds his stand, because why not? Happy stand, happy life.

If stands are manifestations of the owner’s personality, Mista wanted to know the feeling of a gun against his dick. And his imaginary friends come to life.

Legend has it, the gun is the one to have the stand, not Mista. Yet Mista can still see stands, somehow. Because he’s that awesome.

His resolve is big, but his respect is even bigger. Romance is not dead, because Mista never dies.

[monstrouslyobsessed]

dfjsdlk well im back at it again with my cerelos sketch. super rough but initial ideas are p much there. im still struggling with his uniform/whatever yall wanted to call his kingly clothings, tho im def lending toward having his cape be also a part of his married saddle. still messing around with that idea tho. and as for his crown, theres actually two parts to it! one on his forehead and other is hanging between his antlers above the crown. im still toying w the design tho

lemme know what yall think?? maybe toss me your sketch or smth to help me with cerelos’ kingly outfit??

speaking of, lemme share some of cerelos culture w yall to make up for my lack of contents over the past few days!! under the cut~

if a centaur/equestrian is married, they’re expected to cover up their private bits in some form because ideally every inch of them belong to their spouse and no one eyes shall laid upon them. if unmarried, bacholer/ettes are free to go completely naked, showing their bits to the public (even including when males are, well, hornie af), because they’re still animals in some senses. Nudity is natural for them—and yes, kids aren’t spared from seeing such a thing, but they grew up with much better sexual education than we do irl.

what differed them from those who married a human though is that they don’t require a saddle. because cerelos married his human, you can expect to see his (horse)back having a fancy saddle—that is his wedding saddle, basically equestrians’ version of wedding rings to humans. because of equestrians’ prides they would’ve refused to be ridden by anyone else but their beloved spouse, showing the measures of their trusts toward them. meaning, in cerelos’ case, only his wife may ride on his back—and the saddle symbolized that—and her being a human.

its a bit of double edged tho. while its not rare (common enough to have wedding saddles being a thing), its not common either, because the equestrians society is laced heavily with racism toward nonequestrians—most especially humans. in other words, cerelos is ousting himself to be a ‘human lover’, something that could’ve warranted being beaten/murdered/etc. if he wasn’t the emperor. despite his laws protecting the cross species marriages/rights to marry whoever, hate crimes still unfortunately occurred.

that said, cerelos found and enjoyed a particular hobby of castrating/hunting down those involved in such hate crimes to torture them and to implement fear in those of lower morals in his people—they’d be quite lucky to be alive afterward, provided they survived any infection that followed their punishments. cerelos started doing such deeds ever since he married his precious human.

anyway, back to being naked bit, even as a bachelor cerelos wasn’t required to be naked because he, being the emperor, was expected to be treated like a god—meaning even if he wanted to show his bits (which he didn’t, he basically viewed most of those he was forced to interact with, typically those in positions of power, nobles, etc., as pure trash but unfortunately necessary to his society), people were forbid to. they had to keep their eyes down on the ground anyway, so it wasn’t uncommon to see him with his cape on even before then.

extra bits,

for equestrians’ human spouses, they were expected to always be seen riding on their equestrian spouse’s back if together regardless of their genders. so cerelos’ darling would have to stay on his back in public regardless of events—unless they were sitting down. even then the human spouses were expected to keep close contact with their equestrians. this is so to keep the humans safe if a brawl broke out near them or w/e and to maintain the status duo of being unbreakable.

for the married equestrians, itd be pretty easy to be ousted as cheaters if they were seen hiding their private bits beforehand and then caught without after which, btw, was Extremely frowned upon in their society

divorce can only occurs under the emperor’s discrete, meaning...good luck leaving the emperor if you’re married to him.

im not clear yet on what kind of symbol the human/nonequestrains spouses would’ve received to oust them to be married to equestrains yet. wedding rings are typically more for human/human thing. maybe a golden jewel collar?

anyway, thats all the tangents from me! i’ll try to finalize cerelos eventually but man character designing is not my strongest suit lol but i think ima work on red next!!

[matkomakto]

How was it to be a volunteer in Italy?

In this post I want to describe my experience as an AIESEC volunteer in Bologna (I posted a lot during this period on my Instagram). My project was related to SDG4, or in other words Quality Education. The name of my NGO is EduChange. What I did in practice was teaching English and giving presentations about Poland and Polish culture to Italian children at the age of 9-10 (and once 14, but that’s a different story). I will put a line now, so that if you’re not interested you won’t have to scroll like crazy.

ARRIVAL

I don’t want to describe the whole procedure of applying, it’s very easy and nothing really happens. Before you leave you have two meetings - one in your local AIESEC and the other via Internet with the one you’re going to. My journey starts on January, 17th. In the morning I entered a bus to Kraków, from where I departed at 4pm to Venice, and then to Bologna. Venice welcomed me with rain (I got a little cold because of that, but Gripex saved my life once again) and so did Bologna. The whole journey took 26 hours (yes, I went by bus and you can’t judge me). Somewhere on my way my first host-mum, Mary, messaged me wishing me a good journey and asking if I was safe (and in this sentence you have everything about this woman - always kind and caring <3). A few hours later, my other host-mum, Chiara, who was supposed to take me from the station messaged me too. At the station I was welcomed by Chiara and Matilde, one of my new sisters (in general, now I have 3 sisters and 1 brother). In the car I met Davide, dad, and Carlotta, my other sister (or daughter, as some people would say). After a short conversation, I realised we were in the house of Mary, where I was about to spend next 3 weeks of my life. I was tired af, but it’s understandable, I think. I messaged my buddy, Marie Claire (oh, haven’t told you about her — a buddy is a person from bolognese AIESEC, who takes care of you, a kind of nanny I’d say) and my manager, Sofia. And then I had dinner and went to sleep. I was sleeping from 14.00 till 11.00 on Sunday. I had no idea what would happen next.

FERRARA

I woke up when nobody was at home. It was a bit creepy tbh. On the table I found a note “We’ll be home at 12, eat anything you want” (I didn’t, my stomach was still acting as if I were in the bus). When the whole family, it means — Mary, Andrea, Athina and Achille, came back, they told me “We’re going to Ferrara”. I thought “What is Ferrara?”. It’s a beautiful town near Bologna, where we spent an amazing afternoon. I didn’t know anything about this town, and even if Mary and Andrea tried their best as guides, I spent a whole evening using Google Maps to identify objects I had seen. Among them were the Cathedral, Palazzo Muncipale, Castello Estense, Palazzo dei Diamanti and Via delle Volte. I ate a delicious cake, which name I don’t remember, filled with Nutella. Achille kept complaining “Maddalena’s cake is the best!” (they all  ok, almost all called me Maddalena, which is Italian version of Magdalena). In the evening we played all three in the living room and I was texted by Serena, an English teacher from one schools I was going to teach in, also one of my best bolognese friends. With her message I became both excited and anxious about the next day.

FIRST DAY(S)

All the anxiety disappeared when I entered the first school. The children were so lovely and cheerful that I fell in love with them (in a good meaning ofc) instantly. On the first lesson I was just sitting and doing nothing. Then, Serena came, and I was helping her to answer children’s questions during a final test. Believe me, there were hundreds of them. I came home tired, but happy. And finally I became hungry and ate everything I was offered (I always have a problem with eating far from home). The next day meant another school. It was less pleasant as a building, as Mary described it - it looked more like a hospital. Nevertheless, both the teachers and the students again were pure love. In the canteen I sat with 5 boys, who were supposed to make an interview with me. I felt as if I had been watching Familiada live. Then, one of the teachers came to our table hugging one boy saying “Ask him as often as you can. He’s my son”. Lovely, isn’t it? XD In the next class two girls came to me, giving me a drawing (I have it still in my diary). When I asked in Italian if it was for me, I heard a loud, full of shock “LEI CAPISCEEEEEEEEE”. One of the funniest things during these first days is that nobody knew I spoke Italian, and seeing their faces as they discovered it was a very entertaining activity. Wednesday was my day out, I’ll describe it later. On Thursday and on Friday I went to the third school. I ended up in Athina’s class and believe me, it’s really hard to be in one class with your sibling. Fun fact, both English teachers in that school are Rosannas, which confused me a bit these days.

DISCOVERING BOLOGNA

Finally, on my free Wednesday I got an opportunity to go to the centre. I remember my heartbeat when the bus no.13 entered the centre, it was fulfilling of a dream I made as a 13-year-old girl. I walked through Via d’Azeglio and found myself in Piazza Maggiore. Do you remember that scene from Home Alone, where Kevin realises he’s home alone and walks along screaming as crazy? It was me at the moment (but I screamed internally, don’t be scared). I entered Basilica (which I loved and I came back there several times, even twice on the same day). When I went out, I met Marie Claire. She was my guide that day, we had a great time as she showed me Bologna and its 6 secrets (google it). Later I was supposed to go on an AIESEC meeting (there were 2 meetings and Global Village). I continued my trip around city centre from Saturday till Monday, even if the weather wasn’t as great as on Wednesday. Also, on Saturday we spent a few hours “occupando Italia in un Irish pub” with other volunteers. On that day I discovered KIKO Milano, which is now my #1 makeup brand, I’m addicted to it, sorry if I’m a disappointment.

WEEK #2

I was about to write “Nothing interesting really happened”. But damn, I survived a power shortcut in one of the schools, I ate a true Italian pizza and gelato for the first time, I prepared 120 minutes of lesson in 5 minutes because the teacher was absent, I got engaged into “International Mother Tongue Day” organised by one of my schools, I bought a pair of beautiful shoes, I started to enjoy my new social life (volunteers, ily’all and miss y’all <3) and I managed to organise my first trip completely on my own. If that’s nothing then I don’t know what it is. Oh yes, my famous trips, or as I heard from some people “you have too much money”. Let’s remember the first one.

ROME

No matter how hard I try to overcome it, the very first thing I remember about Rome is the pain in my feet. If you’re ever in Rome, please children, don’t go there in brand-new shoes and try not to walk 21,5 km in a single day. As a true Polish, I will start with complaining. I waited 1,5h for a bus and it didn’t have a machine to buy tickets, as they have in Bologna (Bologna-Rome 1:0). On Saturday, despite not the best weather, I made a beautiful trip from Basilica Papale di Santa Maria Maggiore, through Colloseum, Forum Romanum, Altare della Patria, Palazzo Colonna, Fontanna di Trevi, Piazza Navona, Castel Sant’Angelo to the Vatican City and its museum (I have an illegal photo from Sistine Chapel, but shh). My friends volunteers, who also were in Rome, wanted me to go with them to Trastevere, but believe me, I was dying. The next day I did the check out before 8am and I enjoyed empty Rome on Sunday morning, it was amazing. I visited Trinità dei Monti. It was almost empty, @turbinis​ told me I was very lucky, so I will make you see how my luck looks like:

INDEED.IT.WAS.EMPTY.AND.ONE.HOUR.LATER.I.CAME.BACK.THERE.AND.IT.WAS.FULL.OF.PEOPLE.

WEEK #3

In one class there was a Polish boy. Whenever I saw him, he was yelling “CZEEEŚĆ” and whenever I told something about Poland all the children looked at him in the way “Do you confirm what she’s saying?” This week also brought me two great memories with my bro, Achille. He was sick and out of school and this week he was supposed to be back. He was a bit depressed and thought he would have to study all night. Oh, I forgot about the deep existential question he asked me two weeks before: “Have you ever loved someone on this Earth?”. Deep, you must admit. Another time, he was watching cartoons. When his cartoon ended, they started a cartoon for younger kids. He got offended, switched off the tv and took off the battery from the remote control, because “he won’t watch things for babies”. I remember that one day I became extremely hungry and the next day I went to Café Zamboni (coming back from Pinacoteca, which was amazing btw) and ate so much, that I could barely walk XD. I started realising that I want to go to Erasmus here. It was also a week of Sanremo, I remember with laugh how Athina tried to show her dad the performance of Achille Lauro and poor babbo was running away from her and her phone (I was team Gabbani, although now, when I’m writing this, I hear a loud “FAAAAAI RUMOOORE QUIIIII”). On Friday I got compliments from Rosanna and Rosanna for being a good teacher. They really liked how I had substituted Rosanna#1 the week before. Having my wings grown, I started my next trip, using Frecciarossa for the first time.

NAPLES

Although you may not believe it, it was the first time I had seen the sea. Moreover, I saw it for the first time in the same place as did Elena Greco in “L’amica geniale”, but I realised it a few weeks later. Getting out of the hostel, I went down Via Toledo, Galleria Umberto I, Castel Nuovo to Piazza del Plebiscito. I swear, I will fight anyone who says that Naples is dirty/ugly/both. Also, everyone was telling me about thieves, but somehow I didn’t get stolen. After I finished a gelato on Piazza, I went to the sea. It was one of the most beautiful feelings I’ve ever experienced. I thought “Screw all the sightseeing, you will do it tomorrow. Enjoy the sea today”, and so I did. I followed Lungomare all the time, passing along Castel dell’Ovo to the Mappatella beach. As it was the first time I saw the sea, the beach was also a whole new experience. Kids, never ever go to the beach in winter shoes, did you know? Because I didn’t. Probably I would watch a sunset there, but I got a bit scared with all those theft-stories and I was in the hostel before it got dark (I watched the sunset on Piazza del Plebiscito though). On Sunday I went from Santa Maria del Carmine, via Via San Biagio dei Librai and Via dei Tribunali to the Cathedral, Piazza Nazionale and train station. I arrived in Bologna at 11pm tired, but happy.

WEEK #4

In the middle of my stay, I moved to my second host family. At the beginning it was a bit weird (just like every time you change your life 180°). Everything changed the next evening, when I stayed home alone with my sisters and their nanny. We had a great time playing games and joking. Although I’m still ashamed that I lose in Mario, which was the game of MY childhood :C. That week another AIESEC meeting took place. Even two meetings, because on February, 14th there was a Global Village. It was a great event, even if I couldn’t enjoy it till the end, because the next day I had to wake up early. For the train. Btw, it was a Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? I received some sweet cards from my students and it made my heart melt. After school we met with Marie Claire, who showed me something that now I miss a lot - tigelle.

FLORENCE

I woke up with a strong “oh shit” feeling. But as I realised I’m going to Florence, I got up and got ready in 20 minutes. Everyone was still sleeping, though I woke up Chiara when I tried to open the door. It was a cursed day for trains, I think. The train to Florence had too few wagons (I was assigned #9, but there were only 7, though they let me in) and the train from Florence was 40min delayed (I got into precisely on time I should get off in Bologna). I spent a wonderful day, mostly contemplating Il Duomo. Seriously, I took 42 photos of it, which makes almost a half of all photos taken in Florence. I can’t resist to put here at least one:

When I arrived to Ponte Vecchio, I saw a beautiful exhibition of jewelry. Really, it was so beautiful, that I couldn’t stop watching it. I even took a photo of it. As I started to continue my trip I said to myself “Magdalena, you will regret it till the end of your life!” So I came back and bought one bracelet. For 130€. Do I regret it? No. Would I regret if I hadn’t bought it? Yes. I will even show it to you.

One of the most important highlights is the visit to Capelle Medicee - if you ever go to Florence, go there, it costs only 2€ if you’re below 25 (or 26 idk). I enjoyed an amazing view from Giardini Boboli, saw another Neptun Fountain (like, Italians, aren’t you done with them yet???) and took a rest in front of Santa Croce. As a nice finish, I watched the sunset by the Cathedral.

WEEK #5

That Sunday (yes, now I start with Sunday, why not) Chiara woke me up early in the morning and we went to Matilde’s training (she plays rugby and btw Athina plays tennis and Carlotta does skating, I’m really proud of them). After the match (Matilde’s team won ofc) we went to Chiara’s parents. Oh my, I had never thought that people who had never seen me before would treat me as if I were their granddaughter, because that’s what I felt. I don’t remember if I ever had such a dinner, in such an atmosphere. I miss nonna’s tortellini, no one will ever prepare me better ones. In the evening, we played Dixit (a bit of Katowice flashback), the best game ever and don’t even try to say something different. Monday and Tuesday were the days of saying goodbye, since next week these days were supposed to be free. On Wednesday I spent a nice afternoon/evening with Heloísa, my Brasilian friend. We both didn’t know then that we will miss going out so much. On Thursday and on Friday I was a bit sick, I don’t know whether it was just a cold, a beginning of flu or covid-19, which everyone believes me to have had. Nevermind, on Saturday I was completely well.

SAN LUCA

San Luca is a sanctuary located on a hill near Bologna. You can go there on foot, through 666 “portici”. So did I with my host-mom Chiara and Carlotta. It was a beautiful, sunny day. I remember Carlotta running fast up the stairs and being tired when we went down. My sister has a big, pure heart. She gave her chocolate to a homeless man. Also, on that day she became my daughter. At least for the woman in the souvenir shop. (If you ask about Matilde, she was on a soccer game with her dad)

WEEK #6 HOW IT ALL COLLAPSED

Here, I should describe my last week in Italy. But I won’t.

It all started on Sunday morning. I had bought train tickets to Venice and Rimini a few days before. Chiara said “Do you know, there are more and more cases of coronavirus in Venice, in the evening there will be an official communicate. Consider not going there tomorrow”. All I said was “Okay.”. But really, I had no fear of this virus, I even thought I would take advantage of it, because panic means it will be less crowded, no? In the afternoon I went to the centre. In Piazza Maggiore, Via dell’Indipendenza and near the Two Towers people were celebrating the end of the carnival. As I don’t like crowded spaces, I went for a walk near Via San Vitale and Strada Maggiore. As the sun started to set, I decided to go back home. I received a message from AIESEC members that all schools in Emilia Romagna are closed. “A whole free week, cool” I thought. But as the new messages appeared I realised, that there would be no Venice tomorrow. They wrote “Please, don’t travel”. But then it was not my problem. I wanted to get into a bus, but somehow all the bus stops were empty. I had to go back on foot. Have I mentioned that I lived about 5 km from the centre? So, it was a long walk. As I walked, I tried to think what I would do for a whole week as probably the girls will go to grandparents’ and Chiara and Davide have their works. With Chiara we made a decision, I have to go back to Poland. We contacted a few members, about an hour later I had new bus tickets on my phone. We went to a supermarket, it was as if a war was coming. 5 minutes before closing the shop was full of people. And empty on shelves a few minutes later. At 10pm we drove to grandparents to leave the girls there. It was one of the hardest farewells in my life. You can ask why, they are not even your family. Maybe because I remember Carlotta’s words, when they both occupied the whole sofa and I asked “Oh, there’s no longer place for me, is there?” she answered “There will always be a place for you here”. Maybe because I remember Matilde’s head on my shoulder when we were on the way. Maybe because I remember how grandma treated me as her real granddaughter giving me some food and her confitures to Poland. Maybe because all these people showed me more familiar love and affection in these 5 weeks than I received from my real family. Maybe because they still text me asking how I’m doing. Maybe.

I stayed awake till 3am, making my suitcase and handbags. On Monday I went to school, which was closed, to make a closing meeting and to say goodbye to my first host-family. I went for a last coffee and pizza to my favourite restaurant nearby and came back home. I watched tv all the afternoon and had a farewell-pizza as a supper (2 pizzas in a day, very healthy, Magdalena). On Tuesday at 6am I was in a bus heading to Prague and then to Kraków. Instead of watching the sea in Rimini, I was watching some fields somewhere between Kraków and my town.

To make a happy end, it was the time of my life, I’d write something better here but it’s almost 1:30am when I write this, so sorry :C