#she tells me all the time not to argue with the nine year old. I can apply that same advice to her it’s just not worth it

[lovelyisadora]

not my mom yelling at me for not making the baked potatoes. ma’am the potatoes were bad!!

[wlntrsldler]

soldier, poet, king | luke castellan

song: soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos

warnings: not canon compliant, struck by inspiration and wrote this in one sitting so it's kinda just me rambling

i. the soldier

luke grew up a gentle child. he was the type of child who showed mercy at everything, at everyone, even when he knew that he held more power than them. and he did have more power than them.

from a young age, he knew he was different. he just didn't know how or why. it wasn't like he could just ask his mother why locked doors suddenly unlocked when he touched the knob, or why he always seemed to get away with stealing an extra cookie at the lunch line, or why he seemed to understand people who gossiped in other languages. not only were these odd talents to have (and yes he used odd because that's what his classmates used to call him) and his mother would probably not know the answers anyway, but his mother was unreliable at best.

luke was a quiet child. he never talked about what life at home was like and nobody ever asked him. after all, he showed up to school showered, dressed, and fed. there were no red flags there. he didn't blame the school for not knowing his living situation. how could they know? but sometimes, nine-year-old luke castellan wished someone bothered to ask.

maybe if they did, luke would tell them about how his mother talked to herself in the middle of the night and seemed to argue with the pictures on the walls. maybe if they did, luke would tell them that his mother didn't recognize him sometimes and that she would scream at the top of her lungs until her body grew tired then she'd sit still at the kitchen table until the sun rose.

or maybe he wouldn't. he didn't want to be a bother to anyone.

luke had never hurt anything until he was nine. up until then, he used to scoop up spiders on a piece of paper and release them into the world. it felt wrong to kill them so he never did. he used to watch his steps on the way home from school in fear of accidentally killing a centipede on the sidewalk. he used to leave food on the porch for the stray animals that passed by his neighborhood.

luke grew up a gentle child. until he fled home.

the first time luke killed something was when he was roaming the forests of massachusetts. he ran out of food days ago and was surviving on the honey bun an old lady at the gas station bought for him. it wasn't the healthiest option, but she assumed that he was starving from a long day at school and took pity on him. luke said his thanks and returned to his journey.

he could see the sun beginning to set behind the trees. in another life, he'd be watching the sunset in a tent with his mom. it would've been a family camping trip. he took a bite of the now stale honey bun and imagined it was a gooey marshmallow that his mom helped him roast over the campfire. as he crumpled the plastic, he heard it-- a scream from a girl.

luke's eyes widened and he raced to where the sound came from, reaching for the pocket knife he stole from the box his mom kept hidden in the attic. she never let him up there, but as luke was packing his things to leave, something told him to disobey his mother.

he found you with your back against a tree, terrified, with a dog-like creature snarling at you. it had two heads, glowing eyes, and what seemed like a million teeth. it turned its heads to look at luke, and the smile that dawned on its face was haunting. luke fumbled with the pocket knife and watched in amazement as it grew into a sword, both silver and gold, and seemed to illuminate underneath the descending rays of the sun.

luke stumbled in his steps as he held the sword tightly in his small hands and he swung. the dog barred its teeth, no doubt upset that luke was putting up a fight. his technique was nonexistent. he just swung and swung until he managed to lay a blow on the creature, and when he'd done enough damage, luke pierced the sword between the dog's two heads and watched it vanish into thin air.

luke dropped the sword by his feet, trying to catch his breath. he'd almost forgotten that you were there, that he did all that to save someone else. it wasn't until you placed a hand on his shoulder that luke was pulled back to life.

"thank you," you whispered. luke got a good look at you then. tear streaks down your face, hair a mess in two thick braids on either side of your head, and eyes that seemed hollow, though the will of wanting to survive fought to keep the traces of you there. "you saved my life."

luke looked down at his feet to find the pocket knife back in its original form. he bent down to pick it up, hands still trembling as he stuffed it in his back pocket. he wiped his sweaty palms against the fabric of his jeans, "i-i've never killed something before."

"me either," you gulped, nodding. "i'm y/n."

luke brushed his stray curls from his forehead, "luke."

ii. the poet

life at camp half blood became repetitive after a while. training, dinner, offerings, and repeat. luke was excited when he became the head counselor of the hermes cabin because at least he had something new to do. he no longer needed to follow you around to fill his time, though he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss spending so much time with you.

you'd been promoted as the head counselor of your own cabin months before luke, which was overdue in his opinion. you'd grown dependable, strong, and fearless over the years at camp. sometimes luke couldn't believe that you were the same girl who cowered against a hellhound all those years ago.

the life he had before he met you seemed like a lifetime ago, and in some ways, it was. eight years had gone by since he arrived at camp half blood. he's seventeen now. time had taken away many of his memories from his childhood.

"hey soldier," you greeted, bumping his shoulder with your own. "done with your list yet?"

"soldier," he greeted with a bright smile. "just about. want to tag along while i finish up?"

the nickname grew out of a morbid conversation the two of you had a few years ago. it was after you'd just gotten claimed by your parent, the night before you were due to move out of the hermes cabin. luke had found you sitting in the middle of the arena, your sword tossed carelessly on the floor. when you didn't show up to the cabin after lights out, luke knew he had to look for you.

"hey," luke approached you gently, taking the spot beside you. "everything ok?"

you lifted your head, craning your neck to look at him. you shook your head, "no."

his eyebrows furrowed in concern, "what's wrong?"

"i have a quest," you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. "that's why she claimed me."

for years, you found home in the hermes cabin. year by year, you admitted defeat, thinking that your parent would never claim you as theirs. it was painful, watching new arrivals get claimed by their parent while you watched on the sidelines, clapping in celebration. you faked smiles and niceties, but luke knew how much it hurt you.

he'd walk with you back to the hermes cabin and kept you company until you felt better. if he had it his way, he'd stay beside you forever, but he'll be content if he got to stay with you until you didn't want him to anymore. thankfully, that time hadn't come yet.

luke felt anger bubbling in his chest as he scoffed, "all these years... i'm sorry y/n. that's fucked up."

"it's okay, luke."

"it's not, though," he shook his head, "it's not okay that she only wants to claim you because she needs you. what about when you needed her, huh? all those years that she ignored you."

your shoulders deflated. luke was saying all the things you'd been repeating in your head since you've been claimed. "i know, luke, but that's just how the gods are."

"maybe that's the problem," he said. his anger kept increasing, his voice sharpening after each word. he thought about the worst-case scenarios if you left. you could get hurt. you could get trapped somewhere. you could die. the thought of it made luke sick. "maybe the gods need to get a taste of their own medicine. tell me you're not going on that quest."

"i have to."

"then i'll come with you."

you placed a hand on his thigh, "i can't ask you to do that."

"you're not asking. i'm offering."

"no, luke," you sighed, "as much as i would like you there, someone needs to stay here. someone needs to look after annie and the rest of the kids."

"and who's gonna look after you?"

"i'll be okay," you managed to smile, "i can hold my own now. i have the best teacher, remember?"

luke's eyes softened at your words. he'd been teaching you fighting techniques since he was dubbed the best swordsman of camp in centuries. everything he learned, he passed onto you. the life of a demigod was unpredictable outside the walls of camp half blood, and if there came a time when he wouldn't be around, he wanted to make sure you could fend for yourself.

he took your hand in his, tugging on your arm to pull you closer. once you were close enough, he wrapped an arm around you and placed his chin on the top of your head. "i know you can."

there was a silence that fell upon the two of you after that. the two of you sat there beside each other for a beat before you spoke again, "do you think they will ever change?"

"no," luke answered honestly. "we are not their children. we're soldiers to them."

as time passed, the truer those words became. he watched his friends, his siblings, return as a shell of themselves after their quest. he often wondered when he'd be called for his, though he was in no rush. some people were gone for weeks, months, sometimes years, and he couldn't fathom being apart from you for that long.

as he snapped out of his thoughts, you laced your fingers with his, "i'd love to join. i miss your siblings."

luke laughed, "they miss you too. i'm no longer their favorite now that i'm head counselor."

"that's because you never let them have fun," you joked, "fun is good. in moderation."

"hermes kids don't understand the word moderation."

"true," you giggled, running your finger across his knuckles. "chiron is looking for you, by the way. said it's urgent."

luke shrugged, placing a kiss on your temple, "i'm sure it can wait. wanna spend some time with you after finishing up. feels like i haven't seen you in ages."

"we just had breakfast and lunch together, luke," you cocked an eyebrow teasingly, though your grip on his hand tightened. "can't get enough of me?"

"you know the answer to that," he hummed, not deterred by your tone. he never kept it a secret that he'd follow you to the ends of the world if you asked. "but we haven't gotten time with just us two in a while. would like to be able to kiss my girlfriend without campers saying ew."

"the ew's don't seem to bother you that much because you do it anyway."

luke stopped, untangling your fingers so he could hold your face in his hands. he placed a long kiss on your lips, one that left you breathless. "like you said, i can't get enough of you."

iii. the king

the waters were rough tonight. princess andromeda rocked harshly against the current, but luke remained unmoving at the front of the ship. he stared out into the dark waters, thinking back on the memories he had left. kronos was slowly chipping away at all of them, but he held tightly on certain ones because he didn't want to forget.

all of the memories were of you-- the way your skin flushed red after hours training in the arena, the way your hair fell in a tangled mess when you let your hair down, the sound of your laughter when he kissed your neck and his curls tickled your skin. these were things he would fight to remember.

luke thinks a fate more cruel than death would be to forget you.

tomorrow would mark a year since he left camp half blood to lead kronos' army, a year since he last saw you. it seemed trivial to him now to think about the 'what-if's' of his quest, thinking about all that time he would spend without you, only to have it happen anyway. only this time, he knew for certain he wouldn't return again.

life on the ship was vastly different from camp half blood. luke never thought that he'd miss the boring routine, but he did. the only thing that stayed the same was that he remained in power. in camp half blood, he was respected, seen as the leader of the pack. and here, the same can be said. he was kronos' right hand, and until the titan was able to attain his physical form, luke was in charge.

he was the captain of the ship. he was the king. he would bring glory to the demigods.

in the distance, a faint light appeared. luke squinted as he tried to make out the object slowly coming closer. he turned to enter the ship, the room falling silent when he opened the door.

"there's something out there."

chris stood up, approaching luke. he was the only one who dared to address him and luke preferred it that way. chris was his brother. he didn't know the rest of them well.

chris cleared his throat, "we just got word from someone on the inside that they're sending some people to attack us."

"so that's what's out there," luke clenched his jaw, "who did they send?"

"percy, annabeth," chris gulped, "and y/n."

for a moment, luke's demeanor faltered. were you really on your way to fight him? is that what your relationship had come to? luke bit his tongue, trying to control his emotions. he crossed his arms across his chest, "change course now."

another one of the demigods stood up, a puzzled expression on his face, "what? there's only three of them. they're outnumbered. we can take them."

"did i stutter?" luke snarled, "i said change course."

"it doesn't make sense to. changing course will set us back at least. a day!"

"are you in charge?" luke questioned. in his heart, he knew he would pay for this later on. once kronos hears that luke changed the plans without his knowledge, he would suffer but he thinks that whatever torture kronos has in store for him would be less painful than seeing you again.

you were fighting the same war, but you stood on different sides. it was something luke still had trouble coming to terms with.

the boy shook his head, cowering in fear as he made his way out of the room to relay luke's orders to the others. luke turned around and pinched the bridge of his nose before walking back out to the front of the ship. he held onto the railing as the ship turned right, his body jerking with the motion. he always did seem to lose his composure when it came to you. as the ship sailed away, he watched the light he saw in the distance fade into the darkness.

[dreamwritersworld]

The perfect child. (Sully family x reader)

Y/n…the perfect child who they say would never burn out…

You see, Y/n was a perfectionist, always striving for her parents approval, always wanting more and she was always told to do everything right. She’s the oldest after all.

Jake was strict on Y/n and Neytiri was very gentle and loving. A mothers love was like no other. Now…Neytiri loved both of her older daughters but there was always something broken between the two…she treated both the same but it couldn’t be said Jake did.

He was encouraging and gentle towards Kiri, it made her learn quicker, faster and stronger. His teachings with his eldest were harder, faster, tiring. In his mind Y/n was supposed already be perfect…that’s all he wanted. Neytiri saw it as him trying to make a monster out of her, someone who would go farther than they could imagine to protect their children…but she was their child as well..? So if he handed off the responsibility to Y/n, she’d take it right off and comfort her.

They have fought many times on the topic of the way he raised the boys and Y/n…she was there for most of the arguments and she always watched from a far blinking away tears.

*flashback*

Earlier that day Y/n and Neteyam were going head to head on who’s the better warrior but Jake had given Neteyam better tasks to ensure he’d succeed more compared to Y/n.

When Neteyam won, Jake ripped into how Y/n had little mistakes. Neytiri pulled him into their home and ripped at him soon after…

“I mean really Jake, Y/n fought her heart out and the only thing you cared about was picking on the little things when she had already done her harder tasks perfectly.”

“Because she always gets frustrated easily if she doesn’t do good, she needs to be perfect otherwise who’s keeping her to be stronger against the world?”

“You put all of her siblings and people against her! That little girl is mortified all the time but you don’t care! How about being a “role model”? I have heard you say to Kiri, to a little nine year old girl, ‘y/n won’t be happy for you. she’s jealous of you’”

“She is! I don’t understand why we argue on this. Y/n turns off immediately when it comes to anyone who had shown they are better and she needs to stop.”

“You have sabotaged our daughter and the rest of the kids! Our children aren’t soldiers and you will not put them against each other!”

“Y/n is talented I’ll give you that but she needs someone to keep her humble and perfect! She is practically the future of this clan and if she makes a mistake the whole clan is going to talk about it."

-*

He wasn’t fully wrong…When Y/n failed it’s either she’d let the frustrated tears fall, or blink them away. However when Y/n finished her challenges her father was the first person she looked for, he would tell her what she still needed to work on. She felt like she needed to hear the truth, that’s what she was always used to.

In hindsight it was very sad for Neytiri to see how desperate Y/n was for her father approval. And it was equally sad to see how desperate Jake was for him to be in control of Y/n and her perfection. He would constantly put Y/n on a pedestal in public knowing it would put more weight on her.

Jake had many ways to make Y/n feel sick, it wasn’t his intentions but it felt that way.

*flashback*

8 year old Y/n was about to sing and dance in front of the clan, she was fully calm while her mother painted her face until Y/n noticed her dad beginning to approach her.

“Hey y/n!”

Y/n walked up to him as well and gave him a hug.

“Are you ready to be the best?”

Y/n swayed back and forth as she felt the nervousness come back up

“…I don’t know”

“Just be good. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

“I won’t! You make me nervous when you say that!”

“Do good!”

“Ok bye!”

Y/n tried to push her father out kindly, feeling overwhelmed.

“Go.”

Y/n gave a nervous smile at what her father slightly rushing her to be good

“You go! Please.”

“Ok I’ll let you go! Do good!”

The young girl walked back and Neytiri can tell the change in her emotions

“Are you alright?”

“Yea!”

Neytiri looked sideways at her daughter to get more answers

“…he just makes me nervous.”

Y/n sat quietly sick to her stomach while Neytiri kept painting feeling the same way her daughter was.

-*

For my loved ones I’d kill and I’d die for them. No hesitation. The nervousness went away once I had to protect and defend..I have…killed before. There was a day where the sky people entered in a forbidden part of the forest one where my siblings weren’t supposed to be.

*flashback*

There was red coming from two of the men I had killed while I turned to my siblings who were probably hidden in the forest. I didn’t hesitate, I had came out as soon as a gun was drawn…my blood ran cold. I called out for them once the coast was clear and when they came out they looked horrified.

“Im so sorry you had to see that. You aren’t supposed to be in this part of the forest you know that, we must leave now.”

They had already radioed my parents when I had finished oh…the look in my mothers eyes broke me.

They had fear. Fear for my siblings and I.

I was covered in red blood, and scars. I couldn’t even focus…I was so scared by what I had just done. My mind couldn’t remember it, I just went blank.

When my father went up to me slowly with a sly smile..

“Y/n you went on to become the greatest child warrior pandora has ever known. No one can match you efficiency, your ruthlessness!”

I felt sick to my stomach…I was only a child.

My mother rushed to hug me comforted me and repeatedly apologized…it wasn’t even her fault.

“Mother it’s ok! Truly, I just did what needed to be done. I handled it well and protected my siblings. ‘My siblings, my responsibility’. I’m fine.”

Y/n held her mother while she cried…Y/n just comforted her mom instead and blinked away her tears.

-*

No one knew how insecure i felt…how disappointed i was in myself. I was unsure if I was even good or bad…I felt like a monster but at the same time I thrived off of the praise my father sent my way for saving my siblings. I didn’t want to play this part but i would all for him. And this week was absolutely the hardest of them all.

*day one*

Lo’ak, Neteyam and I were all training! Yesterday my father had me learn more about healing next to Kiri as one of my tasks however I couldn’t beat her to it, not when my father was watching…piercing his eyes right through me.

Once we were done he lined me up with the boys and told us what needed to be achieved by the end of the week.

“You three are to start spotting next week. I don’t want anyone here that is not focus or achieving what they’re told. If you do good it makes us look better..Y/n you didn’t do as good at healing, you’re sister beat you so you failed. It doesn’t look good for us. Let me ask this question to all of you. How many of you are training when we aren’t together?”

Y/n looked down at her fathers degrading words disappointed that she didn’t beat Kiri. She nodded to her fathers question saying

“I do..”

Jake rolled his eyes and began losing his patience at the child who couldn’t land what she was told right, lately.

“Well…get off your butt, walk over to your grandmother and train for healing instead!”

Y/n immediately looked away blinking away pained tears…she was tired already, just the night before she stayed up training so she could be ready for the harsh week to come.

Jake spoke again..

“That’s your fault!…don’t embarrass me and do it right. Now go back to training.”

Y/n walked away while her two younger brothers watched her, they later had a conversation..

!Away from Y/n!

“Bro did you see how much Y/n wanted to cry? She’s always good at everything, I don’t know why she cries! She’s the favorite!”

“There's always pressure on Y/n, I mean she wants to please our parents. She can't go to training and be anything but perfect."

Lo’ak rolled his eyes at his brothers statement.

“No duh! But cmon bro you got to admit that sometimes Y/n tries too hard for dad’s approval!”

Now it was Neteyam’s turn to roll his eyes

“She’s the eldest, she needs to be perfect. In dad’s eyes she can be fumbling with her future and it’s not looking good for the family if she isn’t perfect.”

-*

*day three*

Since the day before Y/n spent the whole time training with her grandmother Jake made Kiri and her do an actual competition against each other on who can do stitching and healing ointments better.

Kiri was eager to beat the “perfect child” while Y/n was anxious and determined to prove her father that she has gotten better…she has no chance in winning, she was going against someone who only ever trained for healing while Y/n trained for everything in such little time.

Both of the children did well but Kiri ultimately won. Despite the win Y/n hugged Kiri and told her she’s a good healer. Jake hugged Kiri speaking words that Y/n wished was given to her.

“Even if you had the worlds biggest crown I wouldn’t be any Prouder of you than I am right now!”

The eldest child’s heart was left to yearn for her fathers love, inside she was crying for more than just being ignored. If Y/n won she was ok but if she lost she failed at everything. She didn’t understand his game anymore.

-*

*day four*

What Neytiri never knew was how Jake sometimes encouraged Y/n to break Neytiri’s instructions to Y/n. For example when Neytiri noticed her tiredness while Y/n was helping prep food and told her to take a break from training.

Y/n took a break just like Neytiri told her and when Jake walked into the room where Y/n was watching Tuk with small tears falling because she was panicking inside knowing her father would be upset at her.

“Y/n I want to talk to you.”

Y/n got up and walked past her siblings who had heard and felt how upset Jake was at Y/n

“What’s going on? Why were you not at training and then you were crying?”

“I was crying because training is my safe space but I was just tire-“

Jake cut her off while Y/n nervously played with her hands, hold back tears.

“Nu-uh! Every opportunity I have given you, came from my heart. That was awful Y/n. I don’t deserve that, I didn’t deserve any of it. There’s always another kid, there’s always somebody else. We love you. We were ready to work with you and you sat at home!”

Jake’s hurt expression made Y/n feel worse and she began crying at the pain and disappointment she caused.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you get out of our home and tell your mother no I’m going to training!”

“I’m so sorry”

“That’s not going to cut it. It’s gonna take a long time for you to be better.”

When the family was ready to head to bed Neytiri saw Y/n’s bed empty she looked around to see the child sleeping with dried tears in a corner of a cushion where she had previously been watching Tuk. Neytiri shook her head and covered the child with a blanket knowing how stressed Y/n was.

-*

*day five*

The whole family went to a secluded place to do training. Neytiri watched Tuk until she heard Kiri tell her heartbreaking news

“dad won’t refer to Y/n by her name. He keeps calling her ‘that girl’ or ‘her’ or ‘she.”

Neytiri turned her head to face her other children and husband.

“You! Girl in the front move to the center.”

She sighed to her husband’s teaching methods. This was his way of punishing Y/n and making her do more work to make him ‘remember her name’

Neytiri called for a break and pulled Y/n away

“What’s going on my child you don’t see happy”

“He just says girl, he doesn’t even say my name.”

Y/n embraced the hug Neytiri gave her before telling Y/n it’s ok and to go back…this time Neytiri watched from afar.

“you were gone for a day! Not a year.”

Neytiri shakes her head and got up to pull Jake

“Our daughter has a name. She has a name Jake and you better stop holding a grudge.”

Jake came back to the children and began calling Y/n by her name. Neytiri protected her.

-*

*day 7*

Father has had me training all week and all day! I barley get any rest time, in fact I’m currently walking to where we train. It’s safer to say flying with my ikran would not have been a good idea, my tired body would bring me down with her. I was so exhausted and I felt so heavy, my heart was sinking into blackness as well as my eyes. Everything went black as I fell to the floor..

When I had woken up, I was terrified. Not because it was already eclipse or because i had fainted from exhaustion…it was because of my father. I have never done this before and I was supposed to be there to train. I ran my way back home, using up all the little energy I restored and opened my home to see my panicked family.

My father rushed to me and grabbed me by my shoulders searching for any wounds.

“I’m sorry sir, this won’t happen-“

“Damn right it won’t! You know how important training is Y/n. You will be leader of this clan soon! You must act like it. You do not show up late, you don’t act stupid, this is not ok…”

My father words began getting blurry as he yelled in my face about what I should’ve been doing instead and my body began feeling sick once again…I felt like I was drowning and my breaths were getting shorter. I can see my mothers mad face turn into worry as she slightly pushes my dad away from me.

“Y/n what’s wrong?”

I don’t know. I’m unable to speak back and I drop to my knees. My lungs felt closed up and I was struggling to catch a breath. I had tears in my eyes while my mother began talking again

“It’s ok Y/n. You’re ok. I’m here. Breath my child.”

Once my breathing got back to normal my mother allowed me to tell the story and urged me to get checked by grandmother…she didn’t allow my father to keep on yelling at me.

-*

*day 8*

My grandmother explained that I was just having attacks and that I’d be ok! Today the clan had a dancing ceremony, I wasn’t feeling well so I opted out on joining…until my father told the clan that I’d be joining the dance later that night.

I couldn’t say ‘no’. Not when my father talked up my name…I didn’t want to let him down.

The time for me to dance in the ceremony was coming and my nerves were so high..as I was walking to where the crowd can see me I can hear my dad

“Focus.”

“Represent.”

the pressure got worse from then but I pushed it away.

The clan began singing and dancing but I knew all eyes were on me…I was in the center and I felt my breathing feel heavy again…then suddenly I forgot the dance.

My couldn’t hold the fake smile and I ran off to go to the side where no one can see me.

I was begging for anyone to just help me.

“No! No! No! My father is going to freak out on me…I want to go again….I’ve never done this before. Can I please go again? Please!..please! My fathers going to hate me.”

Neytiri rushed to Y/n hugging her and pulling her away from the ceremony and fellow navis who had been there eyes widened to the visibly panicked child.

“My fathers going to hate me!”

“No he’s not Y/n.”

“He’s going to hate me! I’ve never done this…I’ve never done this.”

Neytiri wasn’t fully surprised that Y/n forgot her dance. Jake and her both put way to much pressure on Y/n. She was just 15 years old. Every single week and day she had to do tasks, train and protect everyone. If something wasn’t done correctly Jake would pinch at it all. Neytiri knew when to calm her down but Jake wanted Y/n to be his perfect child…he didn’t care that he was going to burn the kid out.

“I can’t breathe…I can’t breathe.”

Neytiri pulled Y/n down to sit calming her down more before she flew her back to their home.

“y/n you’re having anxiety and your father gets you so nervous. It’s ok. You are safe my child.”

Y/n was so afraid of her father it was killing her inside..Neytiri completely didn’t know what to do. Y/n loved training but her father was beginning to make her hate it. Once everyone arrived home Neytiri sent her and the rest of the kids out to do something. She didn’t fail to notice how Jake went to go up to Y/n and her breath hitched..like she was breathing in her last final breath.

“Go outside and play all of you!”

Neytiri looked at Jake directly in the eyes infuriated.

“We need to talk. You’re incredibly rude to Y/n you need to treat her with more respect.”

“I do! It’s just that when you are in the picture she looks at you.”

“Because she is afraid of you.”

“She goes completely blank. It’s like she’s competing with you and me. She’s a great kid but she looks at you with one eye, and she gets weak.”

“All she does is feel like she fails! You set her up to fail!”

“She’s the greatest her in the division, what do you not understand?”

“You have gone backstage before performances or challenges and have said ‘be like Kiri or Neteyam!’ Who does that to their child?!”

“Why wouldn’t she want to be like them? They are great.”

“Because Y/n doesn’t need to be like them Y/n is Y/n and that is good enough.”

“For who?!”

“For her.”

“Not for you.”

“Yes it it!”

“Then why are you pushing this idea that I set her up to fail?!”

“Because you knew she was sick and you threw her in there and humiliated our daughter.”

“I didn’t humiliate her! She did it herself when she forgot the dance.”

Neytiri couldn’t hear it anymore she began crying.

"Our daughter has been a wreck all week! And now she's having these attacks because she is afraid of you. And Afraid of what you are going to do it her! And you're allowing this with the relationship that you have with our kids and me! And it breaks my heart it is horrible!”

Jake grew silent while he saw his wife break right in front of him…

“I don’t think you get it! She’s tired! Tired of trying to be perfect for everyone, tired of training, tired of doing tasks. You just know the act she puts on! The ‘perfectness’ it’s done. You are hurting our daughter. Our children. Who’s next? Neteyam? Lo’ak? Kiri? You can not keep doing this to our children.”

Tears began falling from Jake’s eyes as he begins replaying old memories of how Y/n was treated…she was just a kid..how could he fix this?..

!💓!

Hope you enjoyed I just did this on the side because I’m trying to get to her stories done but I needed a breather 😊

P.S: Jake manipulating Y/n and isolating her slightly while Y/n didn’t realize really broke me! It was very obvious in the way he made her feel bad about obeying her mothers orders. She felt a lot of pressure and had many panic attacks during her childhood. This was just the first time anyone has seen it because it all became too much. She had such a strong passion for being a fierce warrior but her fathers harsh teachings is making it hard for her to enjoy the ‘hobby’ again. :(

Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir @itshype @zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll @tsireyak @neteyamforlife @aimsro @elegantkidfansoul @goodiesinthecloset21 @nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @ssc7514 @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lv9su @luciddasher @dakotali @httpjiikook @tainted-artist4161 @fanboyluvr @bat1212 @mxn14 @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @ducks118 @midnightliacr @osakis-gf @onetwo123three @briannalarae @thirsty4nonlivingmen @historygeekqueen @abbersreads @eskamybeloved @hoodiepandaninja16 @valovesyou @silentlyswimming @r3dc4ndy @onlytays

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Promises

written for @steddiemicrofic

prompt: one || wc: 1,111 || rating: T || cws: hurt/no comfort, cheating, custody and divorce, panic attacks, child tantrum

Thanks to the lovely @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for the edits!

“Max, go get your stuff.” Steve’s voice comes out sterner than he means to, but he’s exhausted after a long day of running errands. He doesn’t want to stand in the middle of his ex’s entryway and try to explain to their ten year old why her weekend with Daddy is over.

“But Dad,” she whines, “why can’t I stay overnight at Daddy’s again?”

“No, Max, ok? I’m sorry, but you have school and you still have homework to do. Now can you please go pack up? Auntie Robin is in the car waiting for us.”

She grumbles, holding back tears. “Why can’t I stay here? I want to live here and sleep here and Daddy can take me to school. Dad, I promise I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, stepping into the living room with Max’s bag over his shoulder. He squats down in front of her. A bittersweet smile wobbles underneath his scrunched up nose, and Steve can tell he’s barely keeping it together. “We don’t want to keep Dad waiting, alright? He’s tired, just like you, and you’ll both sleep better in your own beds, right?”

Max throws her small arms around Eddie’s neck and buries her tear-stained cheeks into his messy hair. He squeezes her tight, and Steve sees his body heave with a shake that Eddie tries to pass off as a sigh.

Steve’s resolve starts to crumble. He turns his back on the scene, pretending he can’t hear their quiet declarations of love and promises of next time. Pretends he doesn’t know Eddie’s looking up at him, silently pleading for forgiveness. A look filled with all the empty words Steve’s heard before.

“I miss you,” Max cries “I want you to come home.” A tear slips down Steve’s cheek and he quickly wipes it away.

“I miss you too, Honey.” Eddie chokes around another sob. “But Daddy’s going to stay here for a while, ok? I know it’s hard but everything’s gonna be alright, I promise.”

Steve coughs, hopelessly trying to dislodge the lump clogged in his throat. Except Eddie takes it as a cue of impatience. He doesn’t say anything though, just stands and guides her to the door where Steve’s still pretending not to notice.

“Come on Max, let’s go home.” 

“No.” Max says, voice hard with conviction. “I’m not going home with you. I’m staying here with Daddy. Forever.”

“Max,” Steve responds, trying to match her tone, “I’m done arguing about this, we need to leave.”

“Why is Daddy even staying here?” Her face and neck are painted with angry red splotches, and Steve can spot a tantrum bubbling up. Normally, gentle understanding and praise calms her down. But how can he even begin to answer her? How does he explain to her that her Daddy hurt him beyond repair? 

The only consolation Steve got on the worst day of his life was that Max wasn’t home to watch her Daddy stumble in through the front door sobbing at nine in the morning, reeking of booze, stale cigarettes and strange lavender perfume. At least she didn’t have to listen to Eddie’s desperate apologies between bouts of vomiting, or Steve screaming at him to get out while he threw Eddie’s acoustic down the stairs.

Steve loves his little girl, so of course he won’t tell her the truth. He’ll even lie to her, no matter the consequences, to make sure nothing taints her relationship with Eddie. He’s always been an amazing father, and what happened doesn’t change that.

She starts shouting again. “He should live at home with us! Why don’t you let him come home, please? Dad, I swear I’ll do anything you want!” 

Thankfully she’s facing Steve, because he looks past her at Eddie, who’s soaking his sleeves in tears. Steve’s watched Eddie cry more in the past three months than he has their entire marriage.

“No, honey, please let’s just talk–”

“No, I hate you! I hate you! I wish I lived here with Daddy instead of you!”

She quickly turns around, snatching up her pack from the floor where Eddie had placed it. Steve’s head rings with the violent slam of the door closing behind her. His mind’s filled with static, and he wonders how his life came to this.

Since he kicked Eddie out, Steve’s constantly reminding himself that he made the right decision. He’s been cheated on in almost all of his relationships, and he always gave them a second chance. Everything would go back to normal for a while before the relationship eventually soured, leaving him devastated. 

He refuses to keep giving people who hurt him another chance.

If they really loved him, they wouldn’t have hurt him. If Eddie really loved him, he wouldn’t have been tempted.

Eddie vowed to love Steve, and only Steve. Forever.

A lie. Another broken promise.

But now her words leave Steve cut open and bleeding out in the middle of his ex's new apartment. He collapses under the weight of it all, knees buckling to the floor. As the panic sets in, he’s wrapped up in a warm embrace, ringed fingers combing through his hair and soft shushes in his ear. 

They fall into routine. Eddie tells him when to inhale and exhale, a hand gliding up and down his back. Steve climbs further into his lap, seeking an old comfort he’s yet to replace.

“Angel, you know she didn’t mean it.” He tries so hard to whisper, but Eddie’s voice cracks around the nickname and there’s tears on the back of Steve’s neck. “We’re not our parents. Even if– though. Even though we aren’t together, we’ll still love and support her no matter what. You’re the best dad, Angel, I promise.”

Steve catches the golden shine of Eddie’s wedding band as it passes across his forehead. The image of his own matching silver band stuffed in the back of his nightstand makes him feel sick.

“You’ve always been good to us,” Eddie continues. “We’re so lucky to have you. We– she loves you so much, Angel.”

He wonders if tonight, like every night, he’ll slip the ring as he lays in bed. Or if he’ll be able to fall asleep without dusting his pillow with a small puff of Eddie’s cologne. 

Steve misses him– misses them. They’re supposed to be a family.

Nuzzling his nose into Eddie’s neck, he inhales deep and greedy until the lightheadedness leaves him tingling. Shaky lips press against the top of Steve’s head on a ragged exhale, as the soothing hand in his hair tightens, holds him in place. 

Steve cries and wonders if he could survive one more second chance.

[calummss]

1920s LOVE | KLAUS MIKAELSON

masterlist : part 2

summary: your cousins, the salvatore brothers, tell you to go straight home after school. an evil vampire has come to town and it’s too dangerous; so what happens when the original vampire appears in your house unannounced

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 1.9k

a/n: my first tvd imagine for literally the man i love the most. this fic has similarities to @frost-queen ‘s work as i requested the imagine to her before i started writing but i wanted to write it myself. so before you come at me she already knows as i asked her first!! :)

‘After that we miss our chance to make memories.’ You chimed with Bonnie and Elena, all of you smiling as the cool breeze filtered through your hair.

‘Caroline, I’m not that type of person and you know that!’ A giggle escaped your lips, your hands reaching for hers. ‘Besides, I promised Stefan that I’d go straight home after school.’

‘What even is he to you?’ Caroline pulled her most Caroline face ever.

‘Well he feels like my cousin, but technically he’s probably my great x1000 cousin or something. All I know is that I’m a Salvatore and that connects us.’

Caroline pondered for a moment, letting go of your hands and bracing herself. ‘Fine.’

You let out a breath.

‘But,’

You sighed.

‘You have to actually show up to the dance and not just for five minutes before disappearing with Jeremy to never be seen again.’

‘Fine.’ You threw your hands up in the air and walked away from the group. ‘I can’t wait Caroline! I’m going to have so much fun.’ You made fun of yourself, earning chuckles from the girls before they parted ways too.

Stefan, even though your cousin from hundreds of generations ago, acted like your big brother despite being your age (one could argue about that). Stefan and Damon felt more like brothers and that’s what you always referred to them as. Since you started living at the Boarding house and got told the type of lifestyle the brothers lived, they always made sure you were safe. You were truly grateful for that. Having someone actually care about your well-being and not just yell at you to bring food to the table even though you were only nine years old…it was family. But Stefan and Damon could be pushy when it did come to your safety. Especially since that really old vampire came to town and terrorised Mystic Falls’ supernatural citizens. Since you were a human; a human that knew of vampires and was friends with them so they didn’t want to take any chances. So like any other girl with overprotective brothers, you had no other choice but to go home.

You took your time walking back. The sounds of leaves rustling on the pavement. Red-orangey leaves tumbling across the cement. Whistling of the winds as it bolted through the trees.

You felt at peace. Peace you had longed for for a long time.

Arriving at the enormous house , you unlocked the door and threw your school bag next to the shoe rack, slumping your way down the hall, but someone caught your eye.

‘And you are?’ You asked the man whose eyes were glued onto you as you walked down the steps that led to the living room.

‘You don’t know me, love?’ The stranger cocked his head with a sneaky grin on his face.

‘No, otherwise I wouldn’t ask, dumbass.’

The man chuckled, slowly standing up and stepping forwards, ‘I’m Klaus Mikaelson, I think you might’ve heard of me.’

‘That scary old hybrid?’ You gasped, mouth wide open with a weird expression of positive surprise; but you weren't afraid.

‘In the flesh.’ He lifted his arms to his side, palms facing upwards like he stood in front of a civilisation that ought him to be a god.

‘No offence but I thought Klaus was some creepy old man…you're surprisingly hot.’ You confessed, ignoring the fact that you never spoke so directly to a stranger. ‘Well, I don’t know why you're here and I don’t think I care. I made food before I went to school so it should be done by now, do you want some?’ You walked past him, mumbling quietly, knowing he could hear you, and entered the kitchen where your tart from this morning stood.

‘How do I know that you won’t kill me?’ Klaus replied.

‘Well first, I actually don’t know how to kill you,’ you lifted your thumb and started to count the reasons. ‘I would be extremely dumb to even try and I really just want to know if my food tastes good.’

‘So not all the Salvatores are as dumb as the brothers.’ He relaxed his weight into one of the kitchen stools and eyed you up and down, scanning for something.

‘Is that a compliment or are you badmouthing me with mirroring words?’

‘I take that back.’

‘Arsehole.’ You scoffed and walked around the kitchen aisle to grab a plate from one of the cupboards.

‘So what exactly am I looking at,’ Klaus eyes the ceramic pan that you had set out on the island moments before, ‘it looks nice.’

‘It’s a strawberry tart with a layer of condensed whipped cream and a layer of red bean,’ you started to plate the first portion, ‘and before you start with ‘Red bean? oh my god that’s sooooo weird’, it’s a sweet type. Very popular in east Asia. It’s really good.’ You smiled at him and pushed a fork towards him. ‘I could never make something not tasty because I’m a good chef.’

Klaus chuckled, the corner of his mouth turning into a slight smile, yet his eyes were just as cold. Grabbing the fork you had placed before him, he took a piece with equal amounts of ingredients and placed it in his mouth.

You eyed him for a long second. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t frowning. He wasn’t doing anything. Klaus’ face was blank as the test sheet you had given Mr. Saltzman this morning in first period.

‘So?,’ your eyes still on his face, ‘is it good?’ you leaned in closer, eyes narrowing with a smile. You clicked with your tongue, index finger pointing at the so-called monster in joy, ‘Of course it is!’

Instead of answering your question, Klaus simply took another hit confirming the good taste.

‘I knew it!’ You drummed against the kitchen aisle, ‘Miss Salvatore could never fuck up a dish.’ Amused, you finally gave yourself a piece and enjoyed your tart. ‘So,’ you covered your mouth with your hand, ‘you’re a 1000 year old vampire that everyone’s scared of…why?’

‘I guess it’s because I’m an Original,’ he leaned forward, close enough to smell your scent, ‘Can I have another?’ He eyed the pan.

You nodded.

‘An original vampire,’ you nodded your head cooly. ‘That’s cool. But what brings you here? I doubt you’re vacationing in Mystic Falls. Anyone willing to do that must be boring and have no expectations,’

Klaus snickered in response, his intimidating yet charming eyes felt like they were pushing past your eyes. ‘I need something.’ He confessed.

‘What?’

‘Can’t tell you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’ll tell your brothers.’ He ate the last piece of tart on his plate and leaned against the counter.

‘They’re more like my cousins,’ you grabbed his plate and set it in the skink, starting to clear things away. ‘Million times removed.’

‘You’re human?’ His tone changed but you couldn’t quite make it out. Did you suddenly fall into his power-play-game?

You hummed in response, turning back to him and sitting down on one of the barstools.

‘Do you like it?’ He asked, some sort of genuineness coating his words.

You hesitated for a second. No one had ever asked you before if you preferred the life you were living. Not even Damon asked you and he was the first to be in favour of turning humans for fun.

‘Sometimes I guess, but the thrill of wanting to be a vampire is overbearing at times.’ You took a sip of water, ‘Stefan and Damon said they’d only ever turn me if there was no other option.’ You took a long pause. ’I feel vulnerable as a human and a spark of confidence couldn’t hurt me, right?’

Klaus turned his head forward, chuckling. ‘I think you already have that spark of confidence you’re talking about, love.’

‘Can I ask you a question? Technically it’s two but,’

‘Go ahead, darling.’

Darling—…Stop.

‘Since you’re a thousand years old,’ you turned your body to him, ‘what’s your favourite decade or era you lived in? Like the Victorian era, Tudor age, all that…what’s your most favourite?’

Klaus lingered a smile, seeming almost smitten with your curiosity and sensing a passion for the past.

‘Maybe the 1920s,’ Klaus said, your eyes instantly lighting up. ‘The music, the people, the aura…it was a great time.’

‘I’m jealous,’ your face fell to a pout, swinging the last drop of water down your throat and reaching for the jug to refill your glass. ‘I wish I experienced the twenties,’

‘I think you would’ve loved the 1920s London party scene.’

‘And do you miss it? The past, I mean. Or do you prefer the modern world? I mean certain aspects are obviously for the better but it must be lonely when everything and everyone you knew ceased to exist…I think I’d become lonely.’

‘I have my family.’

‘But humans,’ you cleared your throat, ‘Vampires,’ you corrected yourself. ‘Nonetheless need different people around them. Otherwise we’d go mad.’

‘I’m already mad.’

‘I heard.’ You let out a suppressed laugh. ‘Well anyway, there’s a 1920s decade dance next week and I don’t know if I’ll go. Apparently Mystic Falls is becoming dangerous for humans and I should only go out if completely necessary.’ Shrugging your shoulders, you got up from your chair when the front door suddenly opened and in a matter of seconds Stefan and Danon were standing in the kitchen.

Damon immediately seized your upper arm with force, pulling you closer to him. He scanned your face, then your torso, arms, legs, to see if Klaus had hurt you or compelled you but he didn’t find a single scratch.

‘What?’ Klaus finally stood up and eyes the brothers up and down. ‘You think I’d harm such excellent company?’

‘What did you do?’ Stefan chimed him defensively.

You broke from Damon’s grib and walked to the other side of the kitchen aisle so that you were now between the men. ‘He didn’t do anything. We ate cake and talked. That’s it.’

Stefan eyed you for a while, but he could tell you weren’t lying and there was no reason for you to cover for him so he accepted the scene in front of him.

‘We have what you want, Klaus,’ Damon hissed, ‘but not here. Leave her out of this.’

Klaus turned his head to look at you. ‘Fine,’ now facing back at Damon. ‘but don’t fuck me over again or I will make this living hell for you.’

Stefan pushed forward, ‘We’ll talk outside.’

Klaus followed Damon, Stefan behind him and turned around one last time leaving you a tad puzzled, ‘It was nice to meet you, love.’

‘You too.’

*1 week later*

Ding ding, Doorbell.

Ugh, you rolled off the couch and stomped towards the door.

‘Caroline I said I’m not going. I can’t be arsed and—oh my god.’ You swung the door open not to reveal the blonde girl that had been nagging at you all week.

Instead it was him. Klaus Mikaelson.

‘I— Ehm— What are you doing here?’

‘I’m here to take you to the 1920s, love.’

[dira333]

what about makki and #17 for the plot bunny game?

Thank you for requesting him. I want to write something for him but since I'm feeling a little meh at the moment, I'll do my best now and give him something else later instead of obsessing to get this right for ages!

We go deeper than the ink beneath the skin of our tattoos

You're five years old when you draw your first heart onto Makki's ankle. He's incredibly ticklish, so it ends up looking more like an egg.

You're seven years old when he leaves bite marks in your leg because he's convinced he's turning into a vampire - it hurts a little bit, but he pays you back with ice cream cake.

You're nine years old when you go through the phase of playing Family and it's always the same: You're the Mom, Makki is your husband and Mattsun's your loyal family dog.

You're eleven years old when Mattsun kisses Momo from the next class over. It's just a silly game of truth or dare and he complains all the way home that she bit him right after, but your poor little heart just won't stop beating, fearing the next time someone brings up this game. What if you have to kiss someone? What if it isn't Makki? What if Makki kisses someone that isn't you?

You're eleven years old when Makki sneaks into your room at night to wake you up, to ask you why you've been looking constipated all day, to sit cross-legged on your pillow, determined to stay until you tell him the truth.

You're eleven years old when you kiss him for the first time. It tastes like toothpaste and blood from chewed-up lips, like childhood and growing up, best friends and something more.

You're twelve when Makki kisses Momo - and tells you later that he doesn't really like her. You're thirteen when you kiss Yaguchi from your art Class - and it's just not the same.

But you're both seventeen when you kiss again, behind the gym, on a sunny day in spring, knowing that this time it will mean something different, something more than the curiosity of children.

"Do you even have to get married?" Mattsun asks over a plate of cake samples. "I thought you did that already when we were kids."

"I doubt the Japanese Government accepts our family dog officiating a wedding," you argue, holding a forkful of lemon meringue pie in front of Makki's lips. He takes the bite, chews slowly and nods.

Mattsun groans. "Could you stop using telepathic communication? I feel left out."

"You can play our family dog again," Makki offers, "Or ask Momo out like I told you to."

my Kofi if you want to tip me

[satansapostle6]

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

“Break Stuff”

“Black Hole Sun”

“Mom, I cleaned my room yesterday!”

“No, you did not, young man!”

Sara Walter sat patiently on the stairs of the Heffley house, arms crossed lazily as she listened to her boyfriend arguing with his mother for the second time that day.

“Mom! I cleaned my room right after you told me to! Greg saw me!” Rodrick exclaimed, looking up the stairs for support. “Hey! Greg! Greg!”

Susan Heffley sighed, exasperated as she heard her younger son’s voice respond.

“Yeah?!”

Greg ran down the stairs with Rowley in an instant, worried he was about to get in trouble with either Rodrick or his mom. He stood on the stairs just behind where Sara was sitting, as Rowley Jefferson stood behind him, waiting patiently.

“Did I, or did I not, clean my room yesterday when Mom told me to?” Rodrick asked expectantly.

“You did,” Greg said after a moment of thought, “I saw you.”

Rodrick threw up his hands at the revelation, looking back to Susan. “I told you so.”

“Well, if you did clean your room yesterday, you didn’t do a very good job,” she smiled sarcastically. “Clean it again.”

“But, Mom!”

“‘But’ nothing, it’s a pigsty in there,” Susan insisted in disgust.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s only a few shirts and jackets on the bed.”

“Rodrick,” Sara mumbled, “It’s fine, we can go after—”

“Then it won’t be that hard to pick them up!” she argued, cutting Sara off.

“But, I’m supposed to take Sara out for sushi!” Rodrick complained. “I saved up all month…”

“You’re not going anywhere if you don’t clean your room,” Susan repeated.

“Can’t I just clean it after?!”

“Rodrick, it’s fine,” Sara whispered, silently pleading with him.

“You know, Rodrick, I’m getting real sick of this attitude of yours,” she said crossly, “Ever since you started hanging around Sara, you’ve been irritable and rude. I think she’s a bad influence on you, Rodrick.”

Sara looked up at Susan with her mouth sitting agape, a look of disbelief in her eyes.

“But, Mom,” Greg spoke up, as Rowley began to seem visibly afraid, “Sara hasn’t even said anything this whole time—”

“Greg, this is between me and your brother,” Susan stated sharply, as Rowley pointedly backed up up the stairs.

“Sara has nothing to do with this!” Rodrick just stared at her.

“Hey, guys,” Frank Heffley’s voice cut in.

Everyone turned to see Frank standing by the stairs, confused by the fact that his entire household was gathered near the front door just before dinner time.

“What’s going on?” he questioned.

Susan was the first to speak, as Rowley and Sara were both equally uncomfortable as guests in the Heffley house.

“Your son is refusing to re-clean his room before he leaves the house with his girlfriend,” Susan explained promptly.

“…But, I just saw his room, there’s just some clothes on the bed,” Frank said, before seeing the look of pure anger in his wife’s eyes.

Then, everyone was silent once again.

“Frank. Tell your son that he needs to respect my wishes, and that we feel his girlfriend has been a bad influence on him,” Susan spoke firmly.

“We do?” Frank questioned, feeling as if he’d missed something.

“Yes!”

“Hey, I can just leave,” Sara offered, standing up out of extreme discomfort.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Susan decided with a nod.

“No!” Rodrick cut in, angry on Sara’s behalf as she stood behind him. “You’re staying, and I’m gonna take you out for the best dinner ever!”

“Susan, maybe he can just clean his room once he gets home,” Frank offered a compromise, “You’ll be home before nine. Yes?” he asked with authority.

“Yes,” Rodrick nodded, growing frustrated with the situation.

“Absolutely not! He needs to learn responsibility!”

“He is learning responsibility!” Frank expressed. “And my stomach needs to learn what food is!”

“He hasn’t learned a thing!” Susan screamed back. “Not while he’s dating that—”

Greg’s face fell in horror, and his older brother was fuming. Sara stood behind Rodrick, experiencing more emotions than she cared to in the moment.

“While he’s dating that what, Mom?!” Rodrick shouted. “What is she, Mom?”

“She’s…” the woman just sighed. “She’s Bill.”

Rodrick’s eyes darkened with rage as everyone grew even more tense, if that was even possible.

Susan angrily shut her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. “Rodrick—“

“No. You don’t get to bash Sara, again, just because you’re pissed at me!”

“So Sara’s exempt from criticism, just because she’s your girlfriend?!”

“Jesus Christ!”

Everyone slowly turned in horror, seeing Sara sobbing as she remained beside Rodrick, who stood blocking the door, stained black tears running down her face.

“Can I please just leave?!” she screamed.

Her heart was beating faster than she could track it, and she was shaking profusely. Frank Heffley looked at her with pity as Greg and Rowley both started to get scared for her and Rodrick.

“No, babe,” Rodrick said, taking her hand, “We’re gonna sort this out.”

“Sort what out?!” Sara cried, “She’s never gonna like me! No matter what I do!”

“Well, why should I like you?!” Susan asked confrontationally. “You smell like cigarettes, and you do drugs with my son, and you put crazy ideas in his head!”

“Susan,” Frank said quietly, glancing up the stairs, “The kids…”

She was past the point of taking them into consideration.

“‘Crazy ideas’?!” Sara questioned. “What crazy ideas?!”

“That a 2.9 GPA is a good thing to have, for one!”

“That’s what this is about?!” Sara gasped. “Rodrick came over to my house, crying because you all but called him stupid! I told him he wasn’t stupid, how am I the asshole here?!”

“You cannot speak to me that way!” Susan thundered.

“And you can speak about me, and my family that way?!” Sara screamed.

“Oh, don’t play the victim!” Susan shouted. “Just because you’re the one with the white trash family, and the crazy mom, and the dead cousin, no one can criticize you!”

Sara’s eyes widened as she froze, every instinct in her body screaming at her to start swinging.

“Jesus Christ, Susan!” Frank exclaimed.

“No, I’m tired of it!” she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Sara as she froze, her fight or flight response beginning to kick in.

Evidently, ‘flight’ seemed to be the safer option when it came to your boyfriend’s mother.

“I’m tired of walking on eggshells around a seventeen year-old girl who used to do drink, and do drugs, and cut, and have sex with any boy who looked in her direction. My friend worked with her mother; even her own mother doesn’t like her! You should’ve heard the things she overheard!”

“Mom, stop!” Greg yelled.

But everything was already in motion. Sara had already forcibly pushed past Rodrick, and ran out the front door.

“Sara!”

Rodrick glared hatefully at his mother one last time before running out after her.

“Rodrick! Get back in here!” Susan shouted.

“Susan…!”

Frank didn’t even know what to say.

“What?!” she snapped furiously.

“Mom!” Greg cried, as Rowley ran up the stairs out of fear. “I love Sara!”

Susan looked up at her middle son in complete shock.

“What’s to like about a girl like that?!”

“Why do you hate her so much?!” Greg demanded.

“Because! She smokes, she drinks—”

“So does Rodrick!” he pointed out. “How is she any worse?!”

There was a pause as she tried to formulate a response.

“Mom, there was no reason to say that about her,” Greg sighed, hurt. “Sara loves Rodrick. And she loves us too.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Susan scoffed skeptically.

“Yes, she does!” Greg argued as his father just listened. “When she comes over, she asks you if she can give Manny candy, doesn’t she?”

There was no immediate answer to the question.

“When she comes over, she makes sure Rodrick does what he’s supposed to. She always makes sure he’s home on time when they go out. She asks me how school is, and she listens to my answer. She helped me with my history paper.

“She calls me names like ‘kid’ and ‘champ’ and ‘tiger’ because she thinks it’s funny. She told me if I ever wanna buy a girl jewelry, I have to know whether she likes gold or silver. She hugged Rowley for a full three minutes that time he came over after he heard his parents arguing,” Greg reminded her.

Susan was silent, not seeming to have any specific reaction to the case he’d made.

“Sara isn’t a bad influence on Rodrick. She’s the reason he’s happy. She’s the reason he hits me less and actually tries on his homework now,” Greg sighed. “Whatever‘s going on with you guys has nothing to do with her.”

Frank watched as his son ran back upstairs, taking one look at his wife before he ran outside.

“Sara! Sara!”

Rodrick was chasing her all down the block, breathless and terrified he was losing her.

“What?!” she demanded, still in tears.

“Come back!” he cried. “I’m sorry about my mom, let’s go back inside—”

“For what?!” Sara hissed, stopping as she slapped his hand away from her. “For her to just rub my family in my face again?! I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what?” he stared, terrified of what was coming next.

“Maybe your mom was right,” she sighed, not knowing what to think or feel.

“What?! You’re not a bad influence on me!” he cried.

“No. Not about that,” she gulped, her voice cracking. “I think she was right… I’m not like you. I’m white trash,” she scoffed, laughing coldly.

A sad look graced Rodrick’s features as he tried to disagree with her as adamantly as possible.

“Mental illness and addiction run in my family like red hair, or twins. My mom’s a piece of work, and my stepdad’s a deadbeat with nowhere else to be,” she admitted. “I… I’m on the same path as everyone else in my family; schizophrenia, and a bullet in the head. I’m not like you; I’m not gonna grow out of this, the smoking and the crazy; you have everything ahead of you, and everything is behind me,” she concluded, running a hand through her messy blonde hair as her world slowly began to collapse.

“That’s not true!” Rodrick protested. “Any of it! I love you, Sara! You’re the smartest person I know! You’re nice, you’re kind, and you’re funny, and you help me, and you’re, like, the sun…! And you revolve around me, or something…! Fuck, I’m stupid! Fuck! Why am I so stupid?!”

“I make Bill look like the responsible sibling!” Sara laughed hysterically. “I’m a plane that’s already headed down.”

“That’s not true,” Rodrick repeated, a hopeless look in his sad eyes. “I love you.”

“That’s why you don’t see it,” Sara concluded, completely burnt out as she just walked off to her car.

Rodrick watched her go, unable to come up with anything smart or profound.

“Sara?!” he called, afraid she was truly walking away. “Sara?!”

She didn’t respond.

“Sara!” he screamed. “Sara… Please don’t leave me here,” he begged her.

Frank Heffley came running up with Greg now trailing after him, both of them worried for Rodrick as he sank to his knees in the middle of the sidewalk. He didn’t know what else to do, breaking down completely as Frank tried to comfort his son.

“I’m so stupid!” Rodrick wailed, as strangers seemed either curious or too nervous to acknowledge. “I’m fucking stupid! Stupid!”

Greg grimaced, physically pained as he’d never seen his older brother like this before.

“FUCKING STUPID! STUPID, STUPID, STUPID! I’M FUCKING STUPID! STUPID…!”

-

“This Night Has Opened My Eyes”

[thaliagracesgf]

THALIA GRACE X READER HEAR ME OUT OKAY I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO PUT MY IDEAS INTO WORDS BC ENGLISH IS NOT FIRST LANGUAGE

Maybe reader were part of their group (luke annabeth and thalia when they werent in the camp) and they had a little thing back than (crushing basically) but maybe something happenned along the way and she couldn't gowith them to the way of chb. and maybe they found reader but she's on lukes side

happy ending pls

i'm finally posting again!!! and answering a request!! i hope you enjoy this (even though i lowkey hate it).

also yay finally adding headers!!!

thalia grace x hestia!reader

summary is basically the request!!

constant arguing. constant, constant, constant arguing. luke’s head was about to split open. 

“i could have handled him just fine, thanks,” thalia shouted, storming ahead on the narrow path through the woods somewhere in pennsylvania. 

‘guys, please,” he would have thrown his head back if he wasn’t carrying a sleeping annabeth on his back. you thought she was the most adorable thing, drooling a little on luke’s shoulder. even the knife she kept clutched in her small fist was cute, although luke looked a little terrified that if she jolted in her sleep she would slice his chest open. a few weeks ago, you had convinced luke and thalia to stop, let you brush out her matted curls, and put her hair in braids that wouldn’t get caught or tangled as you all continued along the road. of course, thalia sat there critiquing every knot and part you made (with a celestial bronze knife, mind you). 

“it had you pinned to the ground,” you said, referring to the stymphalian bird that had been chasing you from philadelphia. “it would have bitten your head clean off if you hadn’t gotten involved.”

thalia rolled her eyes. 

“can we try a little patience here? gratitude, maybe?” luke chimed in.

“shut up, luke,” you said in unison. you might be bickering all the time, but thalia was your best friend. you certainly didn’t need luke coming in the middle, acting like he ran the show because he was the oldest. you got enough of that from thalia, and she was only a year older than you.

“for gods’ sake,” he muttered.

you trudged along, summoning soft flames between your hands. you hadn’t been born to a goddess, necessarily, but your adopted mother, who had fallen for a kind librarian in your town, had found your doorstep one day, long after the librarian had disappeared from her life, with a note attached. you had accidentally incinerated it shortly after she took you in, but she gave you the gist, which was that hestia had found you through a fire in an orphanage, enthralled by the flames, and that she had decided you were in need of a mother. she had pulled you through the hearth, given you some strange blessing, and dropped you on your mother’s doorstep. 

eight years later, when you were nine, your mother had died in a plane crash on her way back from visiting her father. the foster homes hadn’t loved taking in a nine year old who could summon fire, so that was when you ran away. 

so far, you could tell that hestia was trying her best to help you along your travels, which was more than you could say for hermes (ironically) or athena, let alone zeus, who you were pretty sure was the one stopping the others from intervening. you got the impression that hestia didn’t answer to zeus as much as he would have liked. 

the fire came in handy at nights, when you could warm yourselves around it. you had a way of making even a campground in the middle of the appalachian mountains that crawled with monsters feel like home. you would go to sleep around the fire, but manage to wake up curled within thalia’s arms. you could never place it, but it felt different than how luke held annabeth like her life depended on it: as in, you would always wake to them giggling over their breakfasts at you, but it didn’t hold any weight to laugh at them.   

⭑

the fire came in handy when you were trapped, alone, in the cyclops’ cellar. you had screamed for your friends to leave you, that you would be okay. and it came in handy on the streets of new york for the next five years, and even at the candy shop you managed to get a job in (somewhat illegally: a nice woman named sally did sort of pay you under the table). 

then sally went missing. you lost your job, and you made your way south again, staying in the demigod hideouts you had made with luke, thalia, and annabeth. flames trickled across your skin as you cried, wishing they were still with you. you hoped they were safe at camp, but you could help wondering why they hadn’t sent anyone to come find you. did annabeth even remember you? 

⭑

luke found you just as you were about to starve to death. you’d been in an especial depression, hiding in the cave of the blue ridge mountains, over in tennessee. the cold of the winter was insane. you couldn’t remember it ever getting that bad in the city. 

you broke when he told you she was dead. 

“it’s his fault,” he said, false tears in his eyes. he had long forced away any emotion pertaining to camp half-blood. 

and so you joined him, becoming his right-hand man. the monsters in kronos’ army feared you. the girl with the flames, they whispered. yet in the privacy of your cabin, you silently prayed to hestia, let her guide you as you fought her brother. 

it was she who told you to follow luke to mount tam. 

⭑

the mountaintop was impossibly windy. you were relying entirely on your sword if there was trouble—any flame would be immediately extinguished. 

you hadn’t accounted for the bigger threat—the air leaving your lungs at the sight of your sister on the ground as artemis held the sky beside her. 

he promised. 

he had promised annabeth would never be hurt. 

your stomach churned. she didn’t even see you, bent over in pain. you couldn’t speak. you turned to luke, suddenly terrified. what had he done? what were you a part of? your legs turned to lead. no. he was already practicing. the titan lord was already too far in his mind to turn it around. and he sensed your allegiance shifting.

when she came over the hill your heart stopped. 

your vision blurred as you saw her face. as she came to your side, held your face in her hands, and helped you to the ground beside annabeth. 

you watched through teary eyes as she fought luke. as he fell from the cliff, you couldn’t help but reach out. 

and then your vision darkened. 

⭑

your eyes opened to warmth. annabeth sat by your side, brushing hair from your face. thalia stood talking to a boy—about twelve or thirteen, you guessed—and a man who shared annabeth’s dark skin and deep-in-thought expression. 

she rushed to your side when annabeth called. 

as she knelt beside you, you adjusted yourself on the couch. your hair was probably a disgusting mess. she smiled softly, brushing her own short hair behind her ear. 

“i thought you were a tree,” you croaked, and she laughed lightly. 

“i was. i thought you were cyclops food.” 

“i wasn’t.”

she lowered her head, and you pushed yourself up on your elbows. she pushed a pillow behind your head, but held it up with the hand that wasn’t resting on your thigh. as she kissed you, you saw the years of camping behind you and the years ahead of rushing to her tree as the hunters arrived at camp all at once. 

and as she pulled back, you saw annabeth smile, hiding her face in the other kid’s chest.

[internet-ink]

Would you write a fic where LW and reader have been best friends for years, both play for arsenal. They’ve both been in relationships until this year. Reader thinks she’s straight until she realises she’s in love with her best friend

Confessions

Thank you for the request anon!

I haven’t wrote anything like this before but I hope you enjoy it :)

This past year had been a difficult one. It started out great - I was with a wonderful guy, I was doing well at Arsenal, and I had my best friends surrounding me.

Then it all went to shit.

In the space of a week I had caught my boyfriend in his bed with another girl and my childhood dog had passed away.

This was ten months ago and now there was another issue arising. My landlord had decided that now would be a great time to evict me. One night I had a few people round and apparently someone had complained about the noise. He said that he had past complaints about the noise from my flat which just wasn’t true but I really couldn’t be bothered to argue with him.

I had nine days to find a new place to live. Originally I had planned to just find another place to rent, however with the days going by and having no luck finding anything I was beginning to worry.

“Y/N! Pass the fucking ball!” Katie shouted, interrupting my thoughts. I snapped out of my day dream and quickly passed the ball to her.

“Sorry.” I replied.

She ran over to me and put her hands on her hips in a sort of ‘you better tell me what’s going on’ way.

With a sigh, my shoulders deflated as my mind went back to all the issues in my life. “I’m just stressing about this whole finding a place to live thing. You’d think in a big city like London there’d be at least somewhere that was available. But no…anything that is available is just ridiculously expensive and out of my budget. Like what am I meant to do? Live on the streets? If my stu-”

“You could stay with me?” A voice from behind me interrupted my rambling, and a smile took over my face as I saw it was Leah.

Leah and I had been close friends since I joined Arsenal three years ago, I mean we were literally inseparable from the first day of training. She was there for me through everything that had happened this year and I was there for her while she was going through her break up with Jordan.

Up until a couple of months ago everything was normal between us but then I started to get butterflies whenever she gave me a hug which then turned into feeling awkward whenever she’d hold my hand - everything that felt normal before now turned me into a complete mess. I had come to the realisation last month that I was in love with her…with Leah.

“Uhh…em. Do you have the room?” I stuttered, mentally kicking myself for acting so awkward around her.

“Yeah, Jordan moved out a couple of months ago so I’ve got a spare room.” She shrugged although I could still see that the mention of her ex-girlfriend’s name hurt her.

I scratched the back of my neck out of awkwardness before replying. “Only if you’re sure.” I said while scrunching my face up.

“Y/N we’ve been best friends for years, of course I’m sure.” She smiled. My heart sunk at the words ‘best friends’. That was all we would ever be and it hurt to think of that.

“Okay well if you insist.” I giggled.

———

“Is that all you’ve got?” Leah asked after I brought all the boxes with my stuff from my car and into my new house. There was a significantly smaller amount of things with me now than what Leah was used to seeing at my old place.

“Uh yeah, I donated some stuff. Decided to start over.” I laughed. Leah took a box and carried it into my new room, which was across the hall from hers.

“Well this is you. Feel free to decorate obviously…just don’t go knocking down any walls.” She deadpanned making me uncomfortable before she started to laugh at me. Leah was always like this.

With a roll of my eyes, I started to unpack the first of my boxes. As I turned to place my fake bonsai tree on the bedside table I noticed Leah staring at me with a small smile on her face, snapping out of it when she noticed I was looking at her.

“Takeaway pizza for dinner?” She asked.

“Yup. Plain cheese?” I replied. She nodded with a chuckle before turning to leave the room.

I spent the next hour or so unpacking everything and decorating the once plain room. It felt weird knowing that this room once belonged to her ex, I wasn’t entirely sure if they did sleep in the same bed while they were together, but I did know that this room was Jordan’s from the previous times I had come over. It just never once occurred to me that I would be living here with the girl that I had a fat crush on. How was I going to survive this? How would I manage if Leah ever brought home another girl or guy? I didn’t know how to feel.

“Y/N! Pizza’s here!” Leah called up to me from downstairs. I sighed to shake the doubts from my head before walking down to where Leah was waiting in the living room with one big box of pizza.

With a confused look on my face I opened the box, my confusion only growing as I confirmed that there was indeed only one pizza. “Where’s the other one?” I asked.

“Oh, I only ordered one. I thought we could share.” She shrugged as she sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to her, telling me to sit down.

My heart fluttered at the idea of sharing a pizza with her. “Cool. Sounds good.” I smiled, internally groaning at how weird I sounded. Leah returned a small smile before reaching over to take a slice.

Pull yourself together, it’s a pizza for Gods sake.

“You okay?” She asked with her hand covering her mouth to prevent the food from showing. I nodded before taking the seat that she had previously pointed at.

“Sorry, just in my own head.” I giggled as I grabbed a smaller slice than the one Leah had, letting out a small moan at the taste of it. Leah whipped her head to look at me with wide eyes as I blushed at the thought that I had actually done that out loud. “I’m so sorry, but holy shit where do you get this? This tastes better than most pizzas I’ve ate.” I exclaimed.

Leah laughed before shaking her head and wiping her hands with a napkin. “This chippy down the road. Discovered it when I was drunk and I’ve been loyal ever since. I can’t say I’ve ever moaned at the taste though.” She spoke, still laughing her head off. I rolled my eyes before taking another slice.

“Shut uppp.” I groaned. “It just slipped out.” I sighed, still feeling rather embarrassed about the whole situation. “Wait…you kept this delicacy from me this whole time?” I questioned, my mood now going from extreme embarrassment to confusion and slight betrayal.

“Guilty.” She put her hands up like she had been caught red handed before the both of us folded into each other in laughter. During our antics, Leah’s hand made its way onto the top of my thigh, making my breath hitch and my laughter halt. As her laughter stopped too, I looked up to see that she was already staring at me with a nervous look on her face and her eyes half closed, focusing on my lips.

“Leah?” I whispered. The tension in the room grew as the distance between us shrunk until I could feel her warm breath on my lips. My heart rate rapidly increasing as her eyes fully closed and her lips moved closer so that they were millimetres away from my own, my chest finally felt like it exploded as I finally felt the weight of Leah’s lips on mine.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and she wrapped hers around the back of my neck as her tongue licked my bottom lip, sighing as I opened my mouth wider and felt her consume me. We broke apart as the need for oxygen overcame us.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

I panted as Leah looked intensely into my eyes, making me feel more nervous than I had ever felt. “Are you alright?” I finally asked as she had been quiet for quite some time.

She leant forward so that her elbows were resting on her knees and her head was in her hands. Feeling immediately off, I reached forward with her and placed a comforting hand on the back of her shoulder.

In all honesty I thought it would’ve been me that was like this if we ever kissed.

“What was that?” She finally asked, leaning back into the couch and staring at me again. I felt my heart sink as she asked that. She sounded annoyed.

“A kiss.” I deadpanned.

“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes. I let out a breath as I mentally prepared myself for the possible rejection that could come from my next statement.

“I like you.” I replied, now looking anywhere but Leah as I didn’t want to see the current look on her face. “No…I love you. I have for awhile - well, a couple of months anyway.” I continued.

“Really?”

I frowned as I stared into the wall behind Leah. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” I said.

As I was getting up, a hand on my knee prevented me from moving anywhere. I took a deep breath as I looked at Leah, not seeing the disgusted face I though I would, in fact she had a huge grin on her face.

“I love you too.” She stated, making my world feel like it crumbled. She actually liked me back? I sat back down next to her and looked at her with wide eyes.

“Really?” I replied.

She laughed and leant in closer to me. “Of course I do, I thought I made it obvious but maybe not? Ever since that night when you held me while I was drunk crying, not complaining once about the snot that I had gotten on your favourite jumper. I love you, Y/N.”

“I think that’s the most romantic thing someone has ever said to me.” I smiled, noticing the crinkles on her nose as she smiled and the small freckles that dotted her nose.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

[lagosbratzdoll]

On Daenerys, Colonisation and Race Discourse within the ASOIAF Fandom

This has been on my mind for a good long while and honestly, as much as I would like to leave discourse in the pits, it has been bugging me intermittently over the past few weeks.

Far too many of you get on here and call people who like the fictional dragon-riding family, neo-Nazis and that sentiment is so prevalent, that white people feel comfortable telling me a black woman that I am a neo-Nazi for rooting for Daenerys Targaryen. I am upholding neo-Nazi power fantasies for wanting to see a little girl live at the end of a story. I am a neo-Nazi for wanting to see the rape survivor have the family she aches for and children with the man (or men) she loves.

Then, those same people go on spiels about how the systemic erasure of those who sing the song of the earth and other old races is not colonialism. That their removal from their home is not displacement but an agreement between two equal parties. The fact that the only place where those who sing the song of the earth exist in the present timeline is north of the wall, surrounded by the bones of their dead, is not a travesty. That the expulsion of the old races from their home isn't that bad and should not be condemned. 

Instead, people argue, completely seriously, that the harm that the First Men and Andals have caused is centuries in the past, so essentially the slate has been wiped clean. The logical leaps that are required to arrive at such a boneheaded conclusion are truly mind-boggling, and those who make such arguments are not good people. 

I am unsure how one could read those books and come away with the impression that the old races do not mourn the loss of their home. I am unsure how one could read The Last of the Giants[1] and Ygritte’s reaction to both the song and Jon’s dismissal of the ethnic cleansing of the giants then believe that the old races and the free folk have moved past their displacement. 

In Westeros, from the Wall to the broken arm of Dorne, they all speak one language despite the fact they are all different ethnicities and they all landed on the shores at different times. That is not the case in Essos, we have been introduced to at least six languages and in A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion notes that the Valyrian spoken in the Free Cities has evolved into nine distinct dialects, and they are well on their way to becoming different languages.

How would a continent as large and diverse as Westeros maintain its hegemony over the people if not for forced assimilation, discriminatory practices and violence? The brutal repression required to keep one house in power for thousands of years is nothing to sniff at. The suppression required to keep the vast majority of Westeros worshipping one (or seven) gods. The systems in place ensure that language does not grow or evolve amongst the highborns at least.

Centuries before Aegon's Landing the maesters were the definitive educational authority and even now centuries after, nothing has changed. The grey rats still decide who learns what and when they learn it. There's one in every highborn home, all correspondence passes through them, they are the healers and the councillors.

The circular logic gets even more blockheaded when you factor in the fact that Daenerys is far from the only white character in the books. She is not the only character who wishes for home. She is not the only character who draws strength from her ancestors, her bloodline and her magical creatures. 

Cersei draws strength from her family’s iconography, and the Stark children (Jon included) all draw strength from their direwolves, their home and their blood. Sansa, Arya and Bran wish to return home and their home was built on the indiscriminate murder and displacement of the indigenous peoples. Their home is built on centuries of rape, murder, exclusionary practices and sexual slavery. 

However, if we give the nonsensical argument that time erases crimes air; the Starks, Lannisters and Tullys are warring to settle personal grievances in the present timeline. As a consequence of that war, thousands (a modest guesstimate) of small folk, minor nobles and even some major ones have been raped, tortured, maimed and killed.

Despite all this, no one writes meta after meta about how Sansa and her siblings must surely die for justice to be had for those who sing the song of the earth, the free folk, the giants and all the old races that fled beyond the wall.  

People write meta about Cersei and how she must die, but those are typically more misogynistic nature. They typically argue that she must die not for the “crime” of being Lannister, but for the “crime” of being Cersei and “ruining” Jamie. 

I would not mind criticisms of Dany and her peace-focused approach to ending slavery because the approach is naïve and she gives the slavers far too much ground. However, she is learning, growing and self-critiquing. At the end of A Dance with Dragons, she has decided to embrace fire and blood, her knight is breaking the false peace which is a necessary step forward.

What I find offensive is people saying that she should have planned better before she abolished slavery. And that the death, violence, and sickness that arises from her quest to eradicate slavery is somehow worse than the death, violence, and sickness that already existed in Slaver’s Bay. 

This argument often downplays the horrific conditions and suffering that exist(ed) under the slave system in Slaver's Bay. Such arguments are often in poor taste and prioritise the lives and comforts of the slavers more than the people they have enslaved.

I would not mind criticisms of Dany if people applied that same critique even-handedly. The same people who believe that Jon and Bran have done much to rectify the evil that their ancestors perpetuated believe that Dany has not done anything to right the wrongs of her ethnic kin. They praise them for the non-existent steps that they have taken, but in the same breath, they condemn Dany for not being able to immediately end the plague that is slavery. 

It is perfectly alright to not like fictional characters, no law requires you to like certain fictional characters over others. However, what is not right is making broad accusations about those who do, it is beyond the pale. It is disgusting, and annoying, and trivialises real-world issues to score cheap points against fictional characters.

Equating the survival of a teenage survivor to the restoration of a fascist house or neo-Nazi power fantasy when such designations do not exist in the world of ice and fire is strange behaviour. Saying that the teenage survivor will eventually be manipulated and raped (again) before ending up dead on her manipulator's blade is also strange behaviour. 

Dismissing the horrors of colonialism, especially when the text shows you that the involved parties are still affected by it, is not normal and often veers into real-world imperialism apologia. While criticism and analysis of characters and their actions are valid and even encouraged, it is essential that we do not resort to sweeping generalisations about other people and that we keep criticisms of characters grounded in the text. 

[1]  

Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth.

The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth

Oh, the smallfolk have stolen my forests, they’ve stolen my rivers and hills.

And they’ve built a great wall through my valleys, and fished all the fish from my rills

In stone halls they burn their great fires, in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.

Whilst I walk alone in the mountains, with no true companion but tears.

They hunt me with dogs in the daylight, they hunt me with torches by night.

For these men who are small can never stand tall, whilst giants still walk in the light.

Oooooooh, I am the LAST of the giants, so learn well the words of my song.

For when I am gone the singing will fade, and the silence shall last long and long.

[ace-of-zaun]

The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time: Pt. 8

Silco x f!reader - 7.6k words - SFW

cw:  fluff, angst, anxiety/dread, injury, medical anxiety, health and illness, taking care of people, talk about self-defence and physical assault, get your seatbelts on lads we’ve got another emotional rollercoaster chapter, but with a fluffy ending bc it’s me

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7

If someone had told kitchen-utensil-salesperson you that one day you’d be having to bribe the Eye of Zaun’s daughter, to keep her quiet about your relationship with said kingpin, you’d have laughed in their faces and told them to get lost.

But alas, here you were.

You’d had a long chat with Jinx about why you weren’t telling people and why she couldn’t tell anyone either. And after surprisingly little convincing from the two of you, Jinx had agreed to keep your secret… for a price. Sweets once a week for every week she kept it a secret. 

Dear Janna, was this girl Silco’s daughter.

She’d also sweetened the deal by throwing in a few extra game nights every month, so that’s how you find yourself sitting at Silco’s desk, Jinx on your lap in the chair opposite his, as you play yet another round of Gun Bun.

Silco is, rather annoyingly, picking incredibly obnoxious words on purpose when it’s his turn, (seriously, how many nine-year-olds know the word egregious?) so you decide that this is the perfect opportunity to mess with him.

At first, you simply decide to spell all of your words wrong, irritating him just a little bit more with every line drawn as he fails to guess the correct letters.

Once he cottons on to that, correcting your spelling like a disappointed teacher, you move onto the next level…

You start making words up.

Jinx giggles and squirms about in your lap when you whisper your nefarious plan to her, earning a narrowed look of suspicion from your criminal(ly gorgeous) boyfriend.

Unfortunately, this tactic only works for one round, because when you finally complete the drawing of Mr. Bunny shooting a gun (complete with the obligatory BANG!) and Silco still hasn’t guessed all the letters, Jinx reveals the word with a menacing glee.

And Silco loses it.

“That is not a word,” he says, immediately glaring at you since you’re the obvious instigator.

He looks so grumpy and so adorably exasperated, you just want to kiss him until he forgets both his own name and just how difficult you like to make his life. 

“It is!” you argue, staring at him whilst you valiantly battle against the urge to smile, before revealing, “I just made it up.”

His whole expression drops into the most incredulous deadpan. 

“Darling.”

“What?” you counter. “All words are made up! It’s not my fault you can’t keep up with me.”

There’s a pause where Silco just stares at you, mismatched eyes glimmering with something just on the edge of dangerous. 

You stare back, raising one cheeky eyebrow in challenge. That does it. 

“I think it is best we retire for the evening,” he says, tone clipped and impatient, though his eyes never once leave yours.

Jinx whines in disappointment, climbing from your lap onto the desk just so she can launch herself into Silco’s lap. She clings to him like a kitten until he finally gives in to her and agrees to one more game, as long as it doesn’t involve any words. 

Which of course means your absolute favourite activity in the whole, wide world. Drawing! 

You teach them both a game you played as a child, one where a piece of paper is folded three times, in a way where you can only see one section at a time. 

The first person secretly draws the head and shoulders, with some lines over the fold into the next section so the second person can join it up. They then flip it over to the next section, where the second person draws the torso and arms, while the last person then draws legs and feet, making sure to keep your separate drawings hidden until the very end, where you reveal the character you’ve all made together. 

You go first to demonstrate, drawing the head of a smiling girl that looks a little bit like Jinx (you know, if Jinx were a squiggly, blue doodle). 

After Jinx and Silco have both drawn their sections, you open up the paper and spread it flat on the desk, revealing, to Jinx’s delight, an absolute monstrosity of a character.

Underneath your smiling face, Jinx has doodled a thin torso with long spaghetti arms that loop round and round until their hands rest on their hips. But it’s nothing compared to Silco drawing his own boots and somehow forgetting that he needed to draw legs as well. 

You play this game for a few rounds, until it’s Silco’s turn to draw first. Except he takes a millennium, sketching with his pen like he’s in the middle of an art class. But it’s only when you spot him gently rocking the chair from side to side, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, that you realise he’s trying to lull Jinx to sleep.

And surprisingly, it works, humming quietly under his breath until she falls asleep in his lap, adorably curled up with her face against his chest. 

Once he’s certain that she’s fast asleep, he lifts his head to give you a knowing look before carefully lifting her and carrying her back to her bedroom. You take the look to mean that you should get changed into your pyjamas so you can both cuddle up when he returns from putting her to bed. 

But when you stand up from your chair, groaning as you stretch your tired body towards the rafters, you take a moment to peek at Silco’s drawing, sliding the paper over the varnished wood until you can finally see. 

And you swear your heart melts in your chest when you look down at it. A portrait of you, looking happier than you’ve ever seen yourself looking. At least, up until you’d moved in with Silco. Now, you’re pretty sure you look like this most of the time. 

You’ve begun to stay in his bedroom a few nights a week, usually when he doesn’t stay up working until dawn like a madman. 

Your (imaginary) spy training has gotten a real workout every morning, ensuring no-one sees you make the dash back to your own bedroom, then getting dressed to go and meet Silco in his office like you hadn’t spent the whole night in his bed.

Honestly, part of you wonders if it would just be easier to move some of your clothes into his bedroom, but you’re not sure if he’d want that. The man does have a lot more clothes than you do. 

And what if he’s not ready for you to both officially move in together? How would you even approach asking? Should you just do it and blame the goblins when he asks if you put them there? (They’re cheeky little bastards, you know, they’ve stolen enough of your socks from the washing machine.)

You’re just preparing to leave the office, peering around the corner of the doorway to make sure there’s no-one in sight. You’d left the kingpin snoring in his bed just moments ago, and it’s far too early for Sevika to be anywhere near The Drop, so you’re pretty confident you’re not gonna be caught.

Crouching down a little feels like a good, sneaky spy move, so you bend your knees slightly, duck your head, and begin to tip-toe down the hallway as quietly as you can.

And honestly, even after only a few steps in, you’re genuinely starting to feel like you could break into one of those fancy art museums Topside and complete the heist of the century. That is, until a low voice calls out behind you.

“What in Janna’s name are you doing?”

Janna herself would be proud of the way you hold in the blood-curdling scream that threatens to erupt from your vocal folds.

Instead of waking up everyone in the entirety of Zaun and probably some of Piltover, you clutch your chest and hiss out a wheezing, “Holy fucking fuck-”

You spin around to glare at Silco who is standing in the doorway to his office, coffee cup in hand as he leans nonchalantly against the frame. 

How didn’t you hear him sneak up? And how the hell did he manage to wake up from being borderline comatose AND make himself a coffee in such a short amount of time? 

You squint at him suspiciously as if that’ll make him reveal all his secrets. Maybe he should be the spy…

Silco looks rather amused as he watches you. 

“Has anyone ever informed you that you possess quite the potty mouth?” he asks, in that raspy morning voice that is far too hot for its own good. 

“Has anyone ever informed you that it’s rude to try to give your girlfriend a heart attack on purpose?” you shoot back.

He holds his free hand to his t-shirt clad chest in mock offence.

“I can assure you, my love, I was attempting no such thing,” he protests with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen in your whole entire existence. 

You point at him as a threat. 

“Boy, don’t test me. I’ll take you out of my will.”

Silco’s face drops into a faux upset, slapping one hand against his cheek dramatically. 

“Oh no, whatever will I do without your collection of novelty ice-cream scoops?” he questions sardonically.

You return it with an overexaggerated gasp, (but deep down you’re secretly pleased he’s starting to play along with your melodrama; oh how the turn tables).

“How dare you!” you exclaim, throwing both hands up to cage your poor, shattered heart, before you turn your nose up to sniff haughtily. “That’s it, I’m breaking up with you.”

Silco swiftly downs the last of his coffee and then tosses the mug onto the sofa behind him blindly, instantly changing your mind on what you just said.

How the fuck did he do that without it breaking into a million pieces? And more importantly, how is he easily the hottest man in the world? 

“I think not,” he practically growls, stepping forward into the corridor. 

“You can’t stop me,” you announce loftily. “Me and the Scoop Troop are outta here.”

He advances on you slowly until he’s leaning down to speak into your ear, the roughness in his timbre sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Then I suppose I shall have to convince you to stay.”

Abruptly, Silco leans down to pick you up, deftly swinging you up into a bridal carry, forcing you to try your best not to squeal and accidentally wake everybody up. 

Then, he turns on his heel and carries you back in his office, kicking the door shut behind you as you giggle breathlessly into his chest. 

Maybe the reason you look so much happier now after moving in with Silco, is because you are. 

-

Of course, spy training in the mornings is not the only kind of training you embark on. 

True to his word, Silco begins to teach you self-defence after the multiple attacks you’ve endured since accepting the job as his negotiator. (To be fair, you’d endured some during your time at the market stall too, but that had been at a significantly lower danger level compared to this.)

So you’re in the bar one early afternoon, a few of the tables pushed out of the way to give you room to properly move about. Silco has given strict orders that no-one is to enter the bar until you’re finished, which had earned a huff of annoyance from Sevika, who would be forced to take the long-winding emergency exit in and out of the building.

Standing across from Silco in the cleared space, you ready yourself to learn some basic defence, hoping it’ll trump your current tactic of just running away really, really fast… (okay, fine, a moderate jog at best).

You’d hoped to learn how to properly use the knife Silco had gifted you in the market, excitedly bringing it along in the hopes that he’ll show you some cool moves.

But he’d confiscated it the very second you’d taken it out of the box and nearly dropped it on your own foot, blade down. 

So… self-defence it is, for now. 

Your boyfriend (smoking hot; an utter bitch; an absolute icon) stands opposite you, hands clasped behind his back as he talks. 

“Today I will show you some basic movements that will allow you to disengage if an attacker were to grab onto you,” he explains, reminding you of your old geography teacher (who was also your everything-teacher because, you know, Zaun). “Then, depending on how well you-”

Silco continues to tell you his lesson plan in detail, but honestly, you stop listening the second you notice that his shirt sleeves are rolled up. And he’s wearing a different waistcoat. It looks a little older than the usual ones he wears, but it’s still hot. Really accentuates his slutty little waist.  

Your cheeks get warm just thinking about it. 

Is it hot in here or is it just you? 

And gods, isn’t he pretty with his hair a little bit messy, those dark waves just the tiniest bit mussed up. And wouldn’t he look even prettier if you ran your hands through it and maybe put your lips on-

“Are you listening?” Silco cuts in. 

Your head snaps up to meet his gaze, positively startled at the interruption. 

“Yes, sir,” you blurt out.

He smirks in response which does not help your predicament in the slightest. 

“Very well,” he nods, bringing both hands to rest on his hips. “We will begin by learning a disengagement technique that would be useful if somebody were to-”

You swear you’re trying to listen.

Honestly.

But that voice. And the way his lips move when he talks. 

And fuck, it’s hot when his throat bobs when he swallows and-

“Are you ready?”

Uh oh, you did it again. 

“Huh?” you mutter, dragging your gaze away from his throat.

“I said, are you ready to try the movements I just explained?” Silco asks, raising one eyebrow expectantly. 

“Of course I am,” you scoff confidently, despite having not listened to a single word he’s just said. “I’m practically a cage fighter at this point. I could take you down faster than you could say 2-in-1 decarboxylator and herb infuser.”

He doesn’t ask. In fact, he’s stopped asking what the hell you’re talking about when you’re both busy because it more often than not just leads to a twenty minute monologue, which he’s more than happy to listen to as you lie in bed together. But not when you’re about to learn important skills like how to defend yourself in a fight.

“Alright then, show me,” Silco responds, stepping closer to you to do whatever the hell he’s been talking about for the last five minutes. 

Suddenly, he reaches out and grabs a handful of your shirt with one hand, scrunching it up right next to your collarbone. 

Your body jolts forward slightly with the motion, eyes flicking up to gawp at him in alarm. 

But instead of flipping you over his shoulder and breaking your spine (you assume that was the intent), Silco just looks down at you, waiting patiently for you to make your move.

Of course, you have no idea what you’re doing (ever), so you just stand there like a rat in headlights, staring up at him in awe. 

“Grab onto your shirt like I told you, darling,” he instructs softly when you still don’t do anything. 

“It’s okay, you can have it if you want,” you whisper back in a daze. 

“No, grasp the fabric with this hand,” he says, gently guiding your hand to fist the material, right next to where his hand is still holding onto it. “And then grab onto my wrist with your other hand.”

You do and suddenly, you feel like you’re in a sauna. 

Why’s he grabbing your shirt like that? And how in the actual fuck can somebody’s wrist be so goddamn hot?

“Now pull your shirt away from me with your hand and push my wrist away with the other,” Silco continues, seemingly unaware of how flustered you are. 

Oh, so that’s what he’s trying to get you to do. 

You hesitate for a moment, blankly staring at his arm. Only then does Silco notice your reticence, but he must put it down to nerves because the grip on your shirt lessens slightly. 

“It’s alright, my love, just try your best,” he tells you soothingly. 

You smile up at him, utterly dazzled by his… him-ness. 

“Okay.”

You just want to impress him. To make your silly little guy as proud of you as you are of him. 

So you try your best…

Which of course means putting way too much power into it. 

With absolutely zero warning, you shove him away from you at the same time as you rip your shirt from his grasp, the force causing you to stumble and trip yourself up on your feet. Instinctively, you reach out and grab onto Silco’s waistcoat, pulling him down with you. 

He just about manages to catch the back of your head before it smacks against the floor, but  can’t save himself from crashing down on top of you.

Your fingers stay latched onto him as he leans up to check on you, hand still cupping the back of your head protectively. 

“Are you alright?” he asks frantically, rapidly looking over you for any injuries.

Your brain must have short-circuited because in lieu of answering, you simply gaze up at him in shock.

The fall appears to have knocked some of his hair loose, now hanging down over his forehead in strands, and sweet Janna, this should be a crime. 

It’s not fair. How are you supposed to do anything or even think straight with this?

Silco cups your cheek and calls your name, clearly panicked. 

“Can you hear me?”

It’s too much for your poor heart, so give you in and press your lips against his in a passionate kiss.

Silco freezes for a split second before letting out a startled, hmpf!

He moves back, breaking the kiss to hold both of your hands against the floor to stop you from leaning up. 

“Darling, this is serious! You cannot kiss me in the middle of training,” he huffs, exasperated.

You hope the puppy-dog eyes will earn you your forgiveness. 

“But you’re just so cute.”

He sighs, head hanging down low for a brief second before he meets your gaze again.

“Are you injured?”

“No. Are you?”

Silco appears to be relieved, but also a little perplexed. 

“I’m fine, darling. How did you lose your balance so easily?” he asks. “It was supposed to be a simple manoeuvre.”

“I uh… I got distracted,” you say bashfully.

Please don’t read my mind. Please don’t read my mind. Please don’t read my mind. 

Luckily, he just runs a hand through his hair, trying to put it back in place. He fails spectacularly. 

“You cannot get distracted in a fight, you must be vigilant at all times,” he tells you, like he’s trying to be stern. 

You take no notice. 

“Even if the person I'm fighting is ridiculously hot?”

Silco ignores the question (despite the fact that the tips of his ears are turning the loveliest shade of red) and continues pretending to be strict. 

“Let’s try getting out of this hold,” he says. “What do you think would be the best way to escape from this position?”

You don’t even bother looking for a way to escape, still too focused on giving some love to your mans.

Leaning up as far as you can, you deliver a quick kiss to his nose, which, to your absolute delight, only makes him blush even more. 

He says your name as a scold.

“What did I just say?”

You toss your head to the side and whine, rumbling your legs a little against the floor like a child. 

“Why can’t I just do this if someone attacks me? I feel like it’s kinda working.”

“Do what?” Silco asks with a frown.

“Kiss them.”

And gods, you swear the noise that emanates from his chest is a growl.

“Absolutely not,” he grunts, pressing himself slightly closer to you until you involuntarily squeak.

Silco releases his grip on your hands and climbs off of you, helping you to stand up so he can dust off your trousers. 

Over the course of the next hour, he does actually teach you one or two methods to escape someone’s grasp, but perhaps more usefully, he explains that it’s better to focus on prevention of attacks, rather than relying on moves that you’re probably going to forget when filled with adrenaline.

But just knowing that you’ll have both a slew of bodyguards and a little bit of knowledge in self-defence makes you feel a bit more confident, which was probably the only reason you agreed to learn in the first place.

Of course, the impromptu lesson ends when you trip again and nearly break your nose falling into a table, this time when you’re only trying to get a glass of water. 

Being led carefully back upstairs by Silco, he exhaustedly suggests that training takes place in his office from now on, to which you ask if you can be wrapped up entirely in bubble wrap in what you would call your Safety Suit.

You get no response, which in your books is not strictly a no, so you make a mental note to add an industrial amount of bubble wrap to the next product order you fill out.

Lacing your fingers with his, you give him the biggest, most affectionate smile as you follow him upstairs to the shower, wondering just how in the hell you got so lucky.

-

It’s only a few weeks later that Jinx gets sick, somehow catching a head cold that thankfully isn’t too concerning, just a bit of a temperature that puts her in bed for a few days.

Although, much like her father, she's incredibly demanding. Which of course only multiplies tenfold the second she starts to feel under the weather, insisting either you or Silco be with her all day every day. So the two of you take shifts, juggling paperwork, meetings, and spending time with Jinx, as well as trying to look after yourselves.

It works for a few days, distracting Jinx when she gets bored or frustrated, coercing her to eat and drink, the three of you even spending time together to discuss her new invention ideas while she’s stuck in bed.

Then, it all goes downhill from there. 

You’re on Jinx duty one afternoon, down in the kitchen and in the middle of making her a warm drink when a loud commotion erupts from the bar. Your head pops curiously around the door frame only to be greeted with the sight of utter chaos; a slew of the club’s bouncers and Silco’s usual bodyguards frantically rushing through the club.

For a brief second, you wonder if there’s a security convention happening that you hadn’t been made aware of.

But the moment you spot the Doctor slinking through doors and up the stairs towards Silco’s office, your heart drops in your chest.

He’s supposed to be at a meeting right now with Sevika, across town.

Or will it have finished by now? Would he have had time to walk all the way back to The Drop?

Fuck, what if something happened during the meeting?

Desperately trying to keep the panic at bay, you slip through the crowd and up the stairs, all the while hoping you’ll find your boyfriend in his office as normal, pacing in front of the window like he usually does when there’s been a hitch in the plans. 

But when you reach the doors, you find two more burly guards blocking the entrance. 

You suck in a breath of air and take measured steps down the corridor until you’re standing in front of them. 

“Hey guys, I need to talk to Silco,” you say as calmly as possible, pointing to the door behind them. 

“Sorry, can’t let you in,” one of them says, barely even sparing you a glance.  

You frown. 

“Why? What’s happened?” you ask, trying to hide the wobble in your voice. Then, at the risk of sounding too involved, “Is he okay?”

“There’s been an incident,” the other grunts. 

You hold in the urge to scream and respond as courteously as you can given the situation. 

“Yes, I gathered that, but it’s really important that I talk to him.”

The guards barely look at you, as if you’re just a fly buzzing in front of them. 

“Sorry. Protocol.”

Your fists clench at your sides. 

He’s your partner, for Janna’s sake! 

For all you know, something terrible could’ve happened and these two chumps are treating you like you’re the maid! As a matter of fact, you’re pretty sure you rank higher than these two in the pecking order anyway. 

You put on your meanest face and glare up at them, channelling all your Eye of Zaun energy.

“Look, I don’t give a rat’s arse about protocol, I need to see him right-”

Even just the mention of protocol reminds you of Jinx, who you’d completely forgotten about in all the hubbub. 

Your mouth drops open and you spin on your heel mid-sentence, racing down the corridor to her bedroom. Footsteps land heavily on the floor until you’re bursting through into her room the instant your fingers grasp the handle.

Jinx is completely fine, albeit a little startled at your dramatic entrance, sitting up in bed where you’d left her. You almost collapse in relief. 

“You were gone for ages!” she complains with a huff, until her eyes land on your empty hands and her face screws up, whining, “Hey, where’s my hot choccy milk?”

You rush to her side, gently soothing back the sweaty hair from her forehead with your hand. 

“I’m sorry, pumpkin, I forgot,” you attempt to placate her. “I’ll make one for you in a little bit.”

Her annoyance fades and you just see the worry overtake her expression as she examines you, eerily similar to her father.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. 

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.”

She isn’t buying it. 

“Yeah there is,” Jinx scowls, even crossing her arms against her chest to show you she really means business. “Don’t lie to me, I’m not a little kid anymore.”

You sigh. What the hell are you meant to tell her? You don’t even know what’s going on.

“There’s just been… a little bit of an incident, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. We’re safe here,” you try to say reassuringly. 

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s just trying to sort everything out,” you reply. “I’m sure he won’t be long.”

Gods, you hope that’s the case. 

Honestly, you feel awful lying to her, but you have no idea what’s happening yourself. So right now, you both need to stay as calm as possible.

You sit with her for however long, keeping both Jinx and yourself distracted with a game while you internally battle with yourself to stop the worry from overtaking you. 

It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like it’s been hours when the door finally opens and Sevika enters, automatically throwing a grimace towards Jinx.

Of course, Jinx isn’t Sevika’s greatest friend on the best of days, but now that she’s sick, it’s entirely worse. She throws the covers over her head and groans in retaliation.

“Boss wants to see you,” Sevika announces, looking directly at you, thankfully ignoring Jinx’s outburst. 

Hope flutters in your chest for a split second. If he wants to see you, that means he’s awake and more than likely talking.

But you can’t really ask the six million questions that are running through your brain with Jinx here listening. And you also can’t really leave her with Sevika, unless you want the entire room to be destroyed. 

“Can you fetch Ran for me?” you ask, begging the woman with your eyes whilst keeping your tone neutral. “I can’t leave Jinx on her own.”

Sevika sneers, clearly annoyed. 

Then, you watch as she considers Jinx (still hiding under the covers), and probably considers being the one to watch over her for the foreseeable. 

Without another word, she promptly turns on her heel and walks out the room.

The whole time you’re waiting for her return, Jinx pesters you to let her see her Dad, but you make her promise that she’ll stay in bed until he gives the okay. 

Luckily, Sevika is back within minutes, Ran in tow, who silently reclines in the furthest chair from her bed. You explain to Jinx that you’ll be back soon, and encourage her to tell Ran about all her new invention ideas.

And the very moment you’ve shut the door to her bedroom, Sevika pauses outside, presumably to update you on the situation.

But your anxiety immediately gets the better of you and you sprint down the hall like a madman, too nervous to even wait a few seconds.

Vaguely, you hear Sevika mutter, “Don’t know why I fucking bother,” as you speed away, but you’ll have to apologise to her later.

You need to see him now. 

When you arrive at Silco’s office, the guards move to the side in preparation, although they do manage to look the tiniest bit alarmed when you burst through the doors yelling, “I just really love paperwork!” and kick the door shut behind you.

Hopefully that’ll quench any suspicions they might have. 

Silco is clearly not in his office, so the next port of call is his bedroom, of which you slam the door open and tumble into the room, hanging onto the door knob for dear life when the motion threatens to send you sprawling across the floor.

From his bed where he’s laid out, Silco’s eyes widen in bewilderment, jolting back against the pillows his head is propped up on. 

Your fingers grip the door handle while your eyes fill with tears, gasping at the sight of him. 

It’s hard not to miss the stained bandage around his thigh, missing waistcoat, and filthy, rumpled clothes. And the fact that he’s much paler than usual. 

You feel sick. 

“Sil…”

“I’m fine, darling,” he attempts to mollify you, shifting about as he tries to sit up.

“No, no, don’t move,” you choke out.

You rush over to him, uncaring of the way your knees crack against the ground when you heavily drop beside his bed. 

“What-” you swallow the knot in your throat, shakily willing the tears away. “What happened?”

A hand reaches out to comfort him, but you hesitate, hovering above his arm.

The last thing you want to do is accidentally hurt him.

Silco grasps your hand with his, firmly intertwining your fingers together. But you beat him to it, bringing his hand to your mouth to gently kiss his knuckles.

“An individual attacked us on our way back to the club,” he explains, two-toned eyes focused on where your mouth rests on the skin of his hand. 

You look up at him, brow furrowed. 

“An individual? Did you see what they looked like?”

“No, they were masked and escaped before Sevika or I could apprehend them,” he replies, voice clearly tired and groggy.

You want to ask why the hell they were alone without any guards, but you know he’ll just get huffy about it. Something about being able to look after himself.

Your hand runs over your face as you sigh.

“Do you think it was one of the gangs?”

That’d be the most obvious set of culprits. 

“It could be, or it could be a lone fanatic who disagrees with my policies,” Silco replies. “We will conduct a thorough investigation and in the meantime security measures will be tripled, you and Jinx included.”

“What did the Doctor say?”

“The usual,” he says, avoiding eye contact as his gaze trails to your clasped hands once more. If there’s one thing that Silco hates, it’s talking about his own health and wellbeing. “The Shimmer injections should speed things along.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before cutting in with a question of his own. 

“How is Jinx?”

“She’s fine, worried about you,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in comfort.

Suddenly, your eyes meet his, filling with tears once more as your mind begins to spiral.

What if-

You cut off that train of thought immediately, letting go of his hand and leaning forward to lightly rest your forehead against his side.

“Oh, Sil,” you mumble shakily into the creased fabric of his shirt. 

“Come here, darling,” he says, gently pushing you to sit back up.

You look up to see him patting the space beside him, the side you usually sleep on.

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” you protest weakly. 

“You won’t,” he says with resolve.

You only hesitate for a moment longer before standing up and making your way around the bed, gingerly climbing onto your side.

Silco quickly reaches for you and pulls you over to him, laying your head against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You’re careful not to lean on him too heavily. 

And gods dammit, as you lie there cocooned in his arms, those tears slowly and silently leak out against your will, soaking into his burgundy shirt.

“I was so worried,” you begin, hoping he can’t detect the wobble in your voice. “I… I thought…”

“Shh, my love,” he hums into your hair. “I’m here now.”

You allow yourself to relax in his presence, beyond thankful that he’s here and he’s alive, even if he’s injured. 

You’ll take care of him every single day until he’s better. And even after that too. For as long as he wants you.

But as much as you want to stay in his arms right now, reassuring yourself with each inhale and exhale of breath that levers your head on his chest, you have to get up. 

“Where are you going?” Silco protests when his arms slip away from you.

“I need to check on Jinx,” you explain, reluctantly climbing off the bed with a sniff. “Plus, it might look a bit suspicious if I spend too long in here. Might start a few rumours.”

Silco frowns when you stand at the foot of the bed and straighten your clothes, scrubbing a hand over your face to wipe away the tears.

“Bring Jinx here, then you can stay as long as you like,” he says, almost with a pout.

You try not to smile at the way he sounds like a little boy trying to get out of bedtime

“She’s still in bed,” you explain. “Plus, she’ll get upset if she sees that you’re hurt. I’ll send Sevika back in to watch over you.”

Silco doesn’t look convinced, so you wander over to his side again.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back later,” you say, kissing his forehead tenderly. 

He catches your hand before you can leave, smirking a little. 

“Why can’t you tell everyone you’re my nurse?” he asks, that mischief still lurking despite the exhaustion. “Then you could spend the night here, no questions asked.”

You tug your hand out of his grasp, glaring down at him in faux annoyance. 

“If you weren’t already injured, I would actually smack you right now,” you threaten.

“Sounds lovely,” he grins, reaching for your hand until you dance out of his reach with a yelp.

You begin to walk towards the door. 

“Stay in bed, you menace. And don’t do anything I would do!” you call out over your shoulder as you leave, exiting the room before you do anything stupid (like offering to give him a sponge bath just because you want to take his shirt off). 

And as you go, you pray to Janna that this period of recovery with Silco’s injury is not going to be a trial. The last thing you need right now is any more stress. 

-

The period of recovery is a trial. 

But did you honestly expect anything less with Silco as your patient? 

Luckily, his leg begins to heal fairly quickly, no doubt thanks to the Shimmer injections. But it still takes a bit of time until he can get back to work as normal.

After checking up on Jinx, you find out from Sevika that the Doctor had actually ordered bed rest until he gives the okay. Which is a relief at first because it means that you can bully Silco into properly resting for once in his life.

Except, that means you have to take over the brunt of the meetings and paperwork. 

Between the worry about both Jinx and Silco’s recoveries, and having to carry most of the business, you think you’re losing your mind. 

You continue to take care of Jinx, as well as Silco, who are both the whiniest, most demanding two people you’ve ever met when they’re sick. 

Jinx hates that she can’t visit Silco in case she gives him an infection and bugs you constantly about going to see him. And Silco borderline whines every time you stop him from getting out of bed to ‘just smoke one cigar and fill in one shipping manifest at his desk’. 

Yeah, no. 

More often than not, you’re running between the two of them, perpetually washing your hands and making sure your mask is secure on your face. 

Sometimes you’ll briefly stop on the way to inhale a snack. Sometimes you’ll shove your face under the sink taps and get both a drink and a wash at the same time. Other times you try not to scream into the nearest pillow or cushion in fear of accidentally losing your voice. 

This time, you’ve just finished putting Jinx to bed (a battle far more ferocious than probably any battle in history, ever), and you’re now on your way to check on Silco, ready for his new evening routine. 

Check stitches. Clean wound. Re-bandage. Give medicine. Give food. Check he’s actually taken medicine. Give drink. Find a new book for him to read because he’s bored, darling. 

But instead of finding him laying in bed, plucking his comb like it’s a musical instrument, he’s standing up (barely) and clutching to the dresser.

You watch incredulously as he attempts to tug his trousers over his injured leg, sweating, pale, and clearly out of breath. 

“Are you serious right now?”

He looks up, lips pulling into the tiniest smile at the sight of you. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greets warmly, before going back to the task at hand. 

You think your head is going to explode. 

“What are you doing?” you ask dumbly.

The tray of his food and meds are placed on the bedside table, while Silco continues to wrestle with his trousers. Frankly, he looks ridiculous, pyjama top still on, trousers halfway up one leg as the other gets stuck on his ankle over and over again.

“I have a meeting,” he informs you, as if that’s an explanation. 

You look up to the ceiling like you’ll find a piece of your sanity on it. There’s definitely no meetings scheduled in the diary.

Dear gods, if he’s got a fever now and is hallucinating, you think you might just evaporate. 

“What meeting?”

Silco decides not to give you any details and instead just calmly states,

“It is very important. I must attend.”

Then, he carries on trying to get dressed like he wasn’t stabbed in the leg only a week earlier.

You can almost visualise the stress levels rising in your body; the jug about to overflow and spill out of you. 

What you should probably do right now is carefully help him back into bed and fetch Sevika so you can all decide on the best solution to this dilemma.

But you’re human, so you let your emotions get the better of you instead. 

“No.”

Silco has the gall to look surprised.

“I beg your pardon?” he asks, genuinely shocked at your directness. 

“I said no, now get back in bed,” you say, moving over to him to help him take off those stupid trousers and put his pyjamas back on.

He must not understand how serious you are right now because he continues to gently protest.

“Darling, I appreciate-”

“Silco,” you cut him off, tears filling your eyes as you arrive in front of him, looking him dead in the eye. Your voice is shockingly quiet and precise. “I need you to get back in bed or I think I am actually, seriously going to lose it.”

He looks startled, shuffling forward to comfort you. 

“Sweetheart-”

“Please, Silco,” you cut him off, your voice cracking with the words. 

Silco appraises you for a moment, watching your tense body and distraught face. 

Finally, he speaks. 

“Alright,” he concedes quietly, mismatched eyes full of concern. 

He manages to step out of his trousers and you help him hobble back over to the bed, pulling up the covers so he can get under the sheets.

And once he’s comfortably sat up against the headboard, he opens his mouth to speak again, eyes watching you carefully the whole time. 

You don’t let him. 

You lean forward, kiss his cheek, and then step away. 

“Please eat this,” you say, nodding to the tray on his bedside table. “I’m going to check on Jinx and then I will be back to change your bandage.”

Your footsteps out the room are measured and by the time he calls your name, asking you to wait, you’re already out the door. But you can’t stop walking because if you do, you’ll burst into tears…

Which is exactly what happens after you check on Jinx.

You’re just on your way back to Silco’s bedroom when one of the employees stops you in the corridor to say that a warehouse has been raided, meaning a bunch of stock has been stolen. 

You politely thank her for letting you know, ask her to inform Sevika, take a sharp turn into your bedroom, and break down sobbing.

Truthfully, you’re not sure how long you spend kneeling on the floor next to your bed, face down as you cry into the sheets.

But it must be long enough because the door opens and a set of limping footsteps shuffle towards you. 

He sits down on the bed and gently - soothingly - runs his fingers through your hair. 

There’s a sharp intake of breath between each word, but you somehow manage to heave out, “You… should… be… in… bed,” sobbing the last word until it’s completely unintelligible. 

“I know, my love, I know,” Silco consoles you.

He delicately encourages you to get up and get into bed, following you under the covers despite there barely being enough room for the both of you. 

Once he’s reassured you that you’re not hurting his leg, you let him hold you in his arms, rubbing your back until you stop crying. 

You have a killer headache. And a big part of you feels bad for letting him comfort you when it should be the other way round. 

“Do you know why I gave you this bedroom when I first asked you to work and live here?” he eventually mumbles into your hair. 

You sniffle. “No, why?”

“It’s the only one with a single bed.”

Slowly, you pull back to look at him in disbelief. 

“What?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t invite anyone over,” he explains nonchalantly, like any sane person would invite you to live with them and give you the tiniest bed ever, just because he was jealous of even the thought of you having a partner. 

You huff a laugh and his lips quirk into a smile in response. 

“There was never anyone to invite over,” you say. “Plus, it doesn’t really make sense to invite someone over when they already live with you.”

Silco watches you affectionately. He cups your cheeks and leans forward to capture your lips in the slowest, most tender kiss. 

Your eyes flutter closed and you whisper against him, “You’re injured.” 

“My lips are perfectly fine,” he mumbles back. 

You gently whack him on the arm. 

“Silly boy.”

He smirks (the one that still gives you butterflies) and steals another kiss before cuddling up to you again. 

“Thank you for looking after everything for me,” he says over your shoulder. “In truth, I am not quite sure what I would do without you.”

“I don’t know how you do it all, I feel like one of those stretchy dolls being pulled in every direction until they snap,” you snort, scrubbing a hand over your face. 

“You’re doing wonderfully, my sweetheart. I am continually astounded by your unwavering strength and compassion,” Silco tells you. 

Then, he blows an amused breath of air out of his nose, like he can’t quite believe whatever he’s thinking. “It’s no wonder I-”

He pauses, whole body suddenly tense in your arms. 

You wait patiently for him to continue, squeezing him a little bit tighter in reassurance. 

“Hmm?”

Silco eventually lets out a shaky exhale, simultaneously relaxing into your touch, almost like he’s melting into your warmth. 

“I know that you will be just fine. We will be just fine,” he says.

You hum again, feeling yourself drifting off to sleep with each looping circle traced on your skin. 

Deep down, you know you’ll have to go fetch him some water and his first aid supplies when you wake. You’ll sit in your armchair beside your own bed until he wakes up from some much needed rest. 

But he’s worth it. He’s worth the crick in your neck, and the reduced hours of sleep, and the overwhelming stress.

He’s worth it all. 

Because you love him. 

-

a/n: did anyone else play the folded paper drawing game or was it just me?? 

edit: i just googled it and the game is called Exquisite Corpse 😭

edit edit: so i’m currently trying to plot out the rest of this story so there’ll hopefully be fewer breaks between chapters (it was only meant to be a one-shot lmao), wish me luck my lieges 🙏 if you’re still reading this daft story after all this time, ily. if you’re new, welcome ily

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight Chapter Twenty-Nine

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 5040

This chapter may not be pleasant to read for some people.

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“I know it's too early, Hanma. Listen, did that bitch had said anything about their boss?” Sanzu paced around the living room, his voice growing irritated. 

“We already established that Kuroda and the rest were just admins, so stop talking nonsense.” 

The question was swirling in your mind about what Yuji had done to you that your subconscious had decided to erase his existence from your memory as much as possible. In fact, you didn't remember many events related to his character, and yet he spent almost all his time at home. 

He was older than you by how much? About 12-13 years? Yeah. Mai was seven years younger than him, and when she was home, he was never far from her side. He helped her with her studies, with her school projects... 

“She must know something!” Sanzu shouted, stopping in his tracks, and as you sipped the alcohol from the glass, you saw the hand he had clenched into a fist starting to shake. “Maybe it would be easier if I talked to her myself? Oh, you know I would get everything I want to know out of that bitch.” 

He was never far from her side... You were just a little shit who didn't understand many things back then, but now... 

“Yuji was obsessed with her.” You mumbled and drank the contents of the glass in one gulp. “He was fucking obsessed with her.” 

The pink-haired man continued talking, or rather arguing, with Hanma on the phone, completely ignoring your words. Maybe he didn't even hear them, so without anyone stopping you, you took the bottle of alcohol you had just started and started drinking straight from the bottle. 

You remembered your father's words, which you once overheard while walking past your parents' bedroom. 

“It's not healthy, Sachiko. He does something he shouldn't. We are Family." 

"I know babe. Mai is afraid of him.” 

“He treats Tomoko like a sister…” 

“Which it is by virtue of actual kinship. Yuji just got lost..." 

“Don't defend him. He's my son, my firstborn, but I can't bear to look at him. I can't accept what he's doing, and neither can you." 

“Kenzou…” 

“He's 25 years old, damn it, he's not a kid!” 

You didn't hear the rest of the conversation because your father closed the door, not knowing that you were standing right next to them. You remembered taking steps towards your eldest sister's room, but on the way, Tomoko grabbed you, placing a finger to her lips to keep you quiet. 

You knew what that meant. Yuji was at home, in his room, and if he heard you around Mai, you would be in serious trouble. 

You felt the alcohol starting to burn your throat, but you didn't mind. The feeling was strangely soothing and as soon as you noticed that there wasn't much alcohol left at the bottom and Sanzu left for the bedroom - still talking on the phone, you got up from the sofa and went to the small bar where he kept more alcohol. 

You were going to get drunk, even drink yourself into unconsciousness, which would allow you to forget about your brother, at least for a moment. Too bad, maybe Sanzu will kill you for your weakness, but you didn't give a damn about it. 

“Yes, I have my suspicions.” Haruchiyo said louder, returning to the living room wearing a shirt and pants. “I won't tell you who we mean… Yes, we, me and Y/n…” 

You started drinking from another bottle, feeling an increasingly pleasant tingling sensation in all your limbs. You took two more bottles in your hand and headed back to the sofa so you could sit on it and enjoy your alcoholic beverages. 

Suddenly, Sanzu's hand took one of the bottles from you, and when you looked at his face, it had a strange expression mixed with irritation at the drawn-out conversation with Shuji Hanma. He shook his head and you shrugged, continuing your journey to the comfortable lounge furniture. 

“Focus, Hanma. How the fuck are you focused?” He loudly put the bottle back in its place and began pacing around the room again. You watched him calmly, taking a sip of alcohol from the bottle every now and then. “Who did she mention? Yuu? So, this fucker is their boss? Good, good. Now we're starting to come to some sort of agreement, you fucker..." 

Yuu... Yuuta... Yuji... 

You took a few long gulps and leaned your head back, mumbling under your breath. “Yuji might be Yuu…” 

"What?" You heard Haruchiyo's voice close to you. “Not you, Hanma. Y/n, what did you say?” 

“Yuji might be Yuu. I wouldn't be surprised at all. He's a fucking psycho." You answered him, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fuck... Yeah, Yuji is the guy we suspect. Don't eavesdrop..." Sanzu growled into the phone and took a few steps forward, then stopped and walked to the sofa where you were drinking alcohol. “Why do you think so?” 

You shrugged. "And why not?" 

“Hanma, deal with Emiko. Get more out of her about this whole Yuu thing.” Sanzu said after a while and ended the call, throwing the phone onto one of the armchairs. “Stop drinking.” 

You ignored him, finishing the bottle of liquor and setting it on the coffee table. Sanzu sat down in the other armchair and out of the corner of your eye you saw him swallowing drugs. You looked at the last bottle he hadn't taken from you and grimaced slightly. 

“You don't have any vodka?” 

“Should I take this away from you?” The answer came, so you shrugged, accepting the type of drink and took a sip. “Stop drinking, I'm serious.” 

“Take care of your pills.” You grunted and you get hit with a small pillow, which you put aside unfazed and poured the burning liquid into your mouth again. 

“Why would your brother compete with Bonten?” 

“He's not competing with Bonten.” 

“Care to explain what you mean?” Haruchiyo asked, still irritated. “He's endangering Mikey.” 

"Not him. Yuji is endangering me. The murdering of whores and the actual attempts to threaten the syndicate was solely on the part of Kuroda and the rest.” You answered after a short moment of thought. 

“And the Uchiyamas?” 

You stopped your hand with the bottle halfway to your mouth. Well, what about them? 

“Maybe… Fifty fifty?” 

"What?" 

“They acted as a means of disposing of our prostitutes, but because of Emiko they were more… Umm… Related to… Harming me? I don't know, Sanzu.” 

“She didn't know you were alive. Have you forgotten that there was a contract for your head?” 

Exactly. You forgot. You placed the bottle between your thighs so you wouldn't have to reach for it on the table, and you clearly intended to drink the entire contents. No matter what Haru said... 

“So, they were going to harm Bonten.” You said, running your fingers through your hair. 

“But they worked directly for Yuu, not Kuroda and Nagano like everyone thought, so…” 

“Don't mess with my head, Sanzu, for fuck's sake.” You interrupted him and drank from the bottle again. 

“Not in that tone.” Haruchiyo stood up abruptly from the chair he was sitting in and walked over to you. He grabbed the bottle you held close to your mouth and tried to take it away from you. “Give it back, you've had enough to drink.” 

“No.” You slapped his hand and saw his eyes widen in disbelief. “Let me finish. I need it." 

“You need purity of mind, not alcohol!” The man got angry and tried to take the bottle from you again, but you grabbed it from his grasp and wagged your finger at him. 

“Let. Me. Finish.” You gritted out through your teeth and then you felt a stinging pain on your cheek and your head snapped to the side. Haruchiyo slapped you. 

This time, when his hand reached for the bottle that was still in your hand, you let him take it. You were too busy trying not to punch him back to react to the confiscation. 

“You're getting nasty.” He said, still nervous, but sat down next to you and turned your face towards him. “Can't you see this motherfucker is starting to control you? You haven't even seen him yet and he already has power over you." 

“Let Hanma cut off her next fingers.” You mumbled, feeling the effects of the alcohol again. Your eyes began to move over Sanzu's face, not lingering on any point. 

“He's already cut off enough of her fingers.” The pink-haired man grimaced as he watched your face. 

“Then let him cut off the rest of them. We won't let her go anyway.” 

“Y/n…” 

“If not the fingers, let him start burning her.” You huffed, tightening your fingers on his wrists. 

“Knowing Hanma, he's already tried that…” 

“Then let him roast her nipples. Damn it, Sanzu... She doesn't need them for anything.” 

His bright eyes widened, and his face showed disbelief once again. "What?" 

You licked your lips, feeling your mouth dry and moved his hands away from your face. “You heard me. I can do it myself..." 

“Y/n…” Haruchiyo laughed uncertainly, watching you struggle to get up from the sofa and take a few wobbly steps towards the entrance door to the apartment. “You won't go anywhere in this condition. You won't even be able to put your shoes on..." 

“Then I'll go barefoot…” You mumbled, holding yourself against the wall. 

"Absolutely not." The man sighed and grabbed your arm confidently, offering you better support, which you took advantage of. 

“For me, Hanma can burn her cunt. She won't get much use out of it.” 

“God, Y/n... I've never known you like this before.” He chuckled as he led you towards the door, but it wasn't until you were through them that you noticed that you had gone through the wrong one. 

“Haru, silly, this is the bedroom…” You frowned and tried to turn around, eager to try to leave the apartment again, but his grip on his fingers tightened. 

“Oh, I know what I'm doing.” The other sighed and pushed you onto the bed, where you fell rather limply. 

You propped yourself awkwardly on your elbows and lifted your head with difficulty to look at the pink-haired man who poured a glass of water from a carafe on the cabinet and sat on the edge of the bed, handing it to you. 

“Drink this. You barely ate anything, and you shouldn't drink on an empty stomach... Even Rindou wouldn't be that drunk after so much alcohol.” He said in a calm voice and you took the glass from him. 

You drank its contents and your head fell back onto the mattress. “Don't tell him about this... Please.” You mumbled as you felt your eyelids getting heavy. 

You saw Haruchiyo's face above you, watching yours closely. His soft hair tickled your cheeks and the fingers of his hand danced over your healing lip and eyebrow. 

“I'm tired…” You muttered quietly and closed your eyes, feeling everything start to spin. 

“Of course you are, honey.” Sanzu answered you and you felt something warm and wet on your cheek, followed by a few small kisses. “Sleep, Y/n.” Tickling on the neck. “I'll take care of everything, you don't have to worry about anything.” 

His voice was soft, warm... Soothing. You wanted to look at him, but you could only open one eye. He was still leaning over you, the warmth of his body surrounding you in a pleasant wave. 

You tried to lift your hand to touch him, but his hands were faster and pressed yours to the mattress above your head. 

“Haru?...” 

“Shhh…” He kissed your ear and you sighed softly. “Let me take care of you.” You felt another kiss on your neck and you tried to move your hand again, but this time you couldn't. You didn't have the strength for it. 

The alcohol must have had a much greater effect on you than usual, but you didn't feel the slightest bit anxious. Sanzu was with you, and you knew everything would be okay. He said so himself... 

You saw his face again and his rosy lips were stretching into a beautiful smile, so the corners of your mouth twitched upwards slightly, trying to answer him in kind. 

He kissed you tenderly and you blew out a breath through your nose, closing your eyes and giving in to another wave of tiredness. 

“Such a good boy.” You heard him whisper and fell asleep. 

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

You woke up after what felt like an eternity of sleep. Your body felt numb, as if you were sleeping in a very uncomfortable position, but you were lying on your back with your head on a soft pillow. You moved your sluggish limbs and forced yourself to sit up with great difficulty. 

Your head was dropped to your chest, but you managed to lift it and looked around the room. You were still in Sanzu's bedroom, but it was almost completely bathed in darkness. Only in the corner of the room, right next to the door to his dressing room, there was a lamp lit, giving dim light. 

You expected a severe headache, but apart from slow movements, nothing else bothered you. You slid your legs off the bed and your bare feet touched the cool floor. You looked around again for your phone, but it was nowhere to be found. It probably was in the living room... 

You stood up carefully and took your first few steps. It wasn't bad, really. Your body began to respond faster to the stimuli sent to your brain and after a while you opened the bedroom door. The living room was also lit in several places by standing lamps, but there was no one in sight. 

“Sanzu?” You called out hesitantly, but silence answered you, so you took a few more steps and looked at the clock hanging on the wall. 

His hands showed 1:23 past midnight. 

“Haruchiyo?” You called out, looking into his small kitchen once again, but there was no sign of the man there either. 

You returned to the living room and looked at the cabinet where you always put your house and car keys, but they were nowhere to be found. The pink-haired man's keys were also missing. 

You walked closer to the front door and saw that his shoes were missing. He left the apartment. He left you alone. 

“What the fuck?” You mumbled and feeling anxious, you searched for your phone, but after twenty minutes you were unable to find it anywhere. This could only mean one thing. Sanzu took it with him. 

You went back to the front door and pressed the handle. Closed. Sanzu locked the door and you knew you wouldn't be able to open it without the key. 

Jacket... You usually had the spare key to his apartment right there in your jacket, and unless Haru checked it... 

You ran back to the bedroom and grabbed the said article of clothing that was slung over the back of the chair and started checking the pockets. 

“There it is!” You smiled broadly as you pulled out a key from your inside pocket. 

Your smile quickly disappeared when you realized your weapon was missing and you cursed loudly. What was he thinking? And above all, where did he go? 

You put on your jacket and went back to the front door, where you put on your shoes and inserted the key into the lock, turning it, and you were ready to leave your would-be prison. You locked the door from the outside and headed for the elevator to get to... 

Yes, to get to your car. Genius. You didn't have the key! 

You swore again and took the elevator down to the ground floor and into the lobby, where you stopped and bit the inside of your cheek lightly. So where did you want to go? You placed your hands on your hips and lowered your head. Maybe home? You had a spare key hidden under the flowerpot on the porch... You could take the other gun and... 

You looked up at your reflection in the door of another elevator. You could have gone to where Emiko was being held and extracted the information you needed from her yourself. You had to make sure your thoughts were correct and that Yuu was Yuji... 

Yes. It wasn't a stupid idea. You left the building and walked towards a nearby taxi stand. 

As you drove to your address, thoughts flooded your mind again. Where was Sanzu and why did he take your stuff? What happened? One thing was certain, you would settle accounts with him and put the idea of imprisoning you in such a way out of his mind again. 

You paid for the ride with the rest of the cash you had in your pants pocket and entered your house without any problems, but as soon as you got to the room where your spare weapon was hidden, it turned out that someone had taken it as well. 

“Damn it!” You swore, punching the wall next to the locker door. "Sanzu, you dumb fuck!" 

Oh, you'll definitely teach him a lesson this time. He could count on it. 

You quickly left the room and went down to the basement, hoping that Hanma hadn't told him where you had another weapons stash. 

You moved a cabinet away from the wall, with a few tools lying on it, and entered the code on a small keyboard. The light changed from red to green and you opened the door. You were immediately relieved when you saw your two extra guns and several full magazines full of bullets. You took one and put the holster under your jacket. Now you really wanted to talk to Emiko. You won't let yourself be stopped. 

You entered the garage and grimaced slightly seeing that your only options were a bike and... Your face relaxed slightly at the sight of your first baby - the Kawasaki ZX-10R Ninja. It didn't quite match the suit right now, but... You shrugged and drove it out of the garage, enjoying the sound of its engine all over again. 

You rushed to the address of the warehouse that was etched in your memory, bearing in mind the fact that at such a late hour you might attract the attention of a police patrol. Even though you were focused on the road, you had your eyes peeled, just in case. 

The journey didn't take you very long, but as soon as you entered the gates of the warehouse area, you let the machine continue to run at low speeds, trying not to make any noise. You had a strange feeling that you shouldn't draw attention to yourself. 

You left your motorcycle behind the crates and listened. Silence. No talking or footsteps. For all you knew, there should have been a few people outside and at least five more inside. 

You looked around carefully and saw a black SUV that belonged to the syndicate. Maybe the boys took a short nap break? You didn't blame them. 

You stepped closer to see for yourself. You no longer cared whether they reported you to Hanma or Mikey himself. You had the right to show up here and it didn't have to be related to the fact that your ex was in the warehouse. The official version you knew was that the woman was outside of Tokyo. 

The closer you got to the car, the more your stomach tightened. Something was wrong, very wrong. You stopped right in front of the driver's side door and without thinking, you pulled out your gun. You held it at ready and pulled the car door handle. 

“Fuck…” You whispered as you saw the limp bodies and traces of blood. 

You touched one of the men's necks and felt no pulse. The bodies were still warm, which meant they had been killed a few minutes ago. You looked at your hand and saw it was covered in blood. You wiped it on the man's clothes and looked towards the door to the warehouse. 

If this was the situation outside, what was inside? 

You sneaked to the door of the building and listened, but you didn't hear anything, so you opened the door and slipped inside the warehouse. The first thing you saw were more bodies of men working for Bonten lying in pools of blood. 

It was bad, very bad. You walked towards the back rooms where Emiko was supposed to be kept and the closer you got, the more clearly you heard the conversation. 

“…you don't understand…” A man said. “Hanma…can't find out.” 

"I do not care about it." Another one growled, and you immediately recognized the voice you heard on the recordings from the basement of the Uchiyama house. Daisuke Sugiyama. 

“But I care... Take away... disappear.” 

You pressed your back against the wall next to the open door to the dimly lit room and listened. 

“I'll take the car.” Sugiyama said and the other man cursed. 

"Absolutely not. How will I explain this, eh?” The first man protested. “Take the woman away until Hanma shows up and fuck off.” 

“Can't you see what condition she's in? She won’t make it to my car.” 

“Then fucking carry her!” 

The sound of a struggle and the man's quiet groaning. “Don't talk back to me. Don't forget who you work for.” 

“Fine... I'll say they stole it... Fuck, let me go.” 

The sound of bumping into some furniture or crates and the quiet sobbing of a woman. 

“Shhh, baby. It's okay. I'll take you away from here. They won't hurt you anymore.” Sugiyama's tone was sickly tender and you felt bile rising in your throat. He really loved her... 

“Move, the fuck.” The first man spoke again. “Look what time it is! Hanma is expected to be here within sixty minutes!” 

“Why so early?” 

“He's supposed to ask her about the boss. I only know this much.” 

“He won't know shit.” 

“Get out of here before the guard wakes up…” 

“They won't wake up.” Sugiyama said and a female voice spoke. 

“Look what they did to me, honey. Look what they did to me..." 

“Shhh... They'll pay us for this. My poor thing.” 

“What do you mean they won't wake up?” The first man became concerned. 

"This." Emiko's husband answered him briefly and there was a gun shot, followed by the sound of a falling body. 

Your heart started beating faster with the sudden rush of adrenaline and as the door opened wider, you grabbed the man leaving by the collar of his shirt and threw him against the wall. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small female figure fall to the floor, but you decided to ignore it now and focus on the taller man who, despite the moment of surprise, quickly responded with an accurate punch to your face. 

You stepped back and when you aimed the gun at him, he knocked it out of your hand with a strong kick. The gun slid across the floor and as you shielded yourself from Sugiyama's next attacks, you heard a woman scream in frustration. 

You looked towards her and saw that she was trying to lift the gun, but due to several of her fingers being missing, she wasn't able to get a good grip on it. She threw the weapon further to the side and jumped to her feet. 

“Get in the car!” Sugiyama shouted and his next well-placed punch to your head sent you reeling backwards. 

You expected the man to be as strong as Hanma, but you had little hope that his age would slow him down even a little. Oh, how wrong you were... 

Somehow you managed to land a few punches, though he blocked most of them without much effort. You kicked him in the side and the man fell into a pile of crates nearby. He grabbed onto one of them and gave you a hateful, icy glare. He smirked and nodded at you. 

“Now I see who Yuuta got his beauty from. It became clear why my butterfly hated the little one so much.” He said contemptuously and your blood boiled. 

“You'll pay for what you did to him, you son of a bitch!” 

“Oh, come on…” He brushed his hair back from his face and laughed. “God, he was such a sweet baby. So obedient and lovely..." 

"Shut the fuck up!" You screamed and lunged at him, but just as you were about to grab him by the shirt and punch him in the face again, he pulled out a metal pipe from behind one of the crates and hit you on the head with what seemed like all his strength. 

Your ears were ringing and the pain was splitting your head. You fell onto the dirty warehouse floor, completely blind for a moment, and doubled over as you felt a strong kick to your stomach. Immediately afterward, you felt several blows from a metal pipe all over your body and you automatically tried to protect your head with your hands. 

“Now you'll die, you bastard! Oh, the boss would like to do it himself, but…” Another series of blows. “He'll have to forgive me... This moment of weakness!” 

Somewhere in the distance, you heard another scream from a woman calling for Sugiyama, and a wave of energy washed over you. You grabbed the metal pipe that was getting closer to your body again, yanking it out of the man's hand and throwing it far to the side. With a well-aimed kick, you knocked him off his feet and quickly sat on his chest. 

Both of your hands shot to his neck, and you began to tighten your fingers around it. Your breathing was heavy, and you were panting loudly, the metallic taste of your own blood on your tongue as it dripped from your nose. You felt wetness on half of your face, and you wouldn't be surprised if the first hit of the pipe cut the skin on your head. 

“Who is your boss?!” You drawled, looking Sugiyama straight in the eyes, where you saw blood vessels starting to burst. 

The man's only response was a loud wheeze, so you slammed his head against the floor. 

“Who is your boss?!” 

"Y...Yu...ji..." The man drawled with difficulty and blood poured from his nose. 

Your eyes widened in horror, but you didn't loosen your grip on his throat. Yuji, Yuji... 

"Where is he?" 

Another wheezing noise from him was drowned out by the roar of the engine and when you raised your head, you saw the headlights of a car speeding towards you. 

You cursed loudly and jumped away from the man beneath you at the last moment. There were a few sickly wet cracks, you felt a few drops land on your face, and the front of the car hit the standing crates. You looked with horror and disbelief at the bloody body of a man who was dying before your eyes. 

She ran over him! That fucking bitch didn't hesitate to run over him! 

You were broken out of your trance by the screech of the car's tires as it reversed rapidly. His rear wheels ran over Daisuke's head and his legs jumped up. Without waiting for anything else, you jumped to your feet and ran away from the front wheels of the car that moved rapidly towards you. Instead of aiming at you, the vehicle crashed into the warehouse gate and with a loud bang, the car drove outside, leaving you alone. 

Your poor heart almost beat out of your chest as you fell to your knees to catch your breath. You didn't want to look towards the dead body of the man who hurt your son. You covered your mouth with your hand and, ignoring the fact that Emiko might be waiting for you outside, you ran out of the warehouse and fell to your knees again, vomiting. 

Your eyes stung from the exertion of puking and tears flowed from them. Emiko ran over him... She ran over him... 

“Y/n?!” You heard someone screaming, but you didn't respond to it. 

“Y/n!” Someone rushed up to you and grabbed your arms with such force that you had to grab onto something to keep your balance. 

You looked into terrified, wide light eyes, framed by long, thick pink eyelashes, and you knew who you had in front of you... 

“Sanzu…” You whispered and saw Hanma standing behind him with a look of complete surprise on his face. 

"What are you doing here?!" His eyes widened even more when he saw the state you were in, then he looked towards the warehouse and its ruined gate. “What the fuck happened here?!” 

“Sugiyama came for Emiko. She ran away…” You started to explain, your body starting to shake. “One of the guards was a traitor... She escaped!” 

Hanma moved towards the SUV and looked inside, then quickly ran to the warehouse. 

“You shouldn't be here…” Sanzu pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping your face with it. “How did you get out of my apartment?” 

“She ran over him with one of our cars, Sanzu… She tried to run me over, but she killed Sugiyama…” You tightened your fingers on his forearms and the pink-haired man froze, staring at your face in horror. “She didn't hesitate for a moment…” 

“And the fun is over.” Hanma sighed loudly as he walked towards you and out of the corner of your eye you saw him signaling to the people who had come with him and Sanzu. “It needs to be cleaned up and all traces removed. Get to work, boys.” 

Sanzu helped you up from the ground, holding your arm tightly as Hanma leaned forward slightly, pursing his lips. “Please, tell me that you at least had the idea to ask them about their boss, Y/n….” 

“Hanma…” Sanzu growled warningly, but you nodded. 

“Sugiyama confirmed my suspicions.” You swallowed loudly, looking into Shuji's golden eyes. “Yuji L/n is their boss.” 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[cloverrr8]

Katelyn doesn’t like Lucinda. Or maybe she just doesn’t like her demeanor. She’s the opposite of Katelyn; articulate, cunning, flirtatious, always composed. Lucinda always holds the control, she always voiced her opinions, and she had no fear of disapproval. Katelyn is quiet, and when she isn’t quiet she is hostile. Despite being a member of the Jury of Nine, despite years of intense training and preparation, Katelyn can’t plan for shit. When others look to her for advice, her throat runs dry. Katelyn doesn’t give advice. She doesn’t argue in favor of her beliefs. In this regard, she is a follower. Lucinda didn’t listen to orders, she does what she pleases. She isn’t afraid to make her own decisions. Katelyn and Lucinda are two birds, one free to soar whenever it pleased, sing whatever tunes it wanted, the other caged and silent.

Being free from orders was a strange concept to Katelyn, one she assumed after abandoning the Jury of Nine. Yes, she had her issues working for such a corrupted organization, but it was all she ever knew. Lucinda had some ‘strong’ opinions about the Jury of Nine, which she informed Katelyn of shortly after they met. Due to her high-class O’Khasis upbringing and status within its government, she was unfamiliar with the disrespect Lucinda gives her. Teasing, Aphmau calls it. Lucinda is teasing Katelyn, just making jokes to lighten Katelyn’s persistently tense manner. She does it to everybody, Katelyn notices, but that doesn’t make her hate the comments less.

One day, Katelyn snaps. Lucinda is talking about her old village, about when O’Khasis invaded it. She looks over at Katelyn mocks her for who she used to work for, who she used to be. Katelyn punches Lucinda. In the face. And almost breaks her nose. Aphmau is pissed. She says Katelyn needs to at least tolerate Lucinda or there would be consequences.

Lucinda walks up to Katelyn as she storms out of Aphmau’s home, still bruised from her outburst. She apologizes for her teasing. At first, Katelyn thinks Aphmau ordered her to say sorry. But even if she had, Lucinda would only do so if she truly wanted to. “I was being too harsh on you, I know you’ve given up your entire life to join the Phoenix Alliance. So it wasn’t fair of me to tease you for your past life. Can you forgive me?” In an unnaturally nervous manner, Lucinda holds out her hand. It’s the first time anyone here has given Katelyn a decision. She’s almost never makes decisions for anyone, not even herself. She didn’t even make the choice to attend Guard Academy, that has her father’s doing. Shy eyes avoid assertive ones. Lucinda is giving her control over the situation to Katelyn. Slowly, Katelyn maneuvers her hand to meet Lucinda’s. She can feel the soft warmth emanating from it, despite a silky glove blocking true contact. Lucinda smiles sweetly, and jokes that Katelyn has a handshake too strong not to be a warrior. It’s a compliment, Katelyn doesn’t get compliments often. Maybe she doesn’t know how to handle arguments and making difficult judgements, but Lucinda does. And maybe she can teach Katelyn to fight, not just because others tell her to, but because she knows she is making the right decision in doing so.

[biographydivider]

I haven't written Encanto fic in a minute, huh? Anyway I banged this out in half an hour to stop me killing my co-workers, enjoy!

One of the girls was passing it around in the back of church. This silly little folded paper star; you picked a number and a colour and it told your fortune. "You'll marry a rich man," Sofia Quintero whispered, to a chorus of giggles. "Pepa; do you want to try?"

Pepa Madrigal tossed her shiny auburn curls over one shoulder. "No thanks," she said haughtily. "I don't need toys to tell me my future. I can see it whenever I like."

"Pleeeeease Bruno!"

Pepa hung on the end of her brother's ruana as he stomped from room to room. "Please let me see. It's important! I can't let Sofia Quintero and her stupid piece of paper win."

Bruno ignored her.

"I'll do your chores for a week?"

He paused; just for a second, but Pepa noticed. Pepa always noticed. To everyone else, her brother was as hard to read as still water; to her, it was nothing at all.

"Please?" she begged. "Please. Please please please please pleeeeee--"

"Alright, alright!" Bruno stamped his foot, sandal slapping on the tile. "Jeez, Pep; what does it matter anyways?"

Pepa's face darkened. "It. Matters. You're a boy; you don't get it."

"Bruno's shoulders slumped. He didn't think it had anything to do with being a boy. But there was no arguing with Pepa when she got like this. "Ugh. Go get Juli. Might as well make it a party."

And a party it was; Juli smuggled snacks up to Bruno's room after bedtime and Pepa brought some blankets and stuffed animals from her room. They hadn't had a sleepover in Bruno's room in years.

"Ooooooooh!" Juli crowed as, in hues of green, an older version of Pepa was dipped by a handsome, dark-skinned man. "Oooooooooooh, Pepa, he's handsome!"

"I know," Pepa simpered; gracious and faux-humble, like she'd won a prestigious award. "I know."

Bruno wrinkled his nose as the man closed the distance between his lips and Older-Pepa's. "D'we have to watch the kiss?"

"YES!"

"Okay, okay, fine."

"Do me next," said Julieta, leaping onto Bruno's back and shaking his shoulders. "Me next, me next! I want to see my true love, Bruno!" She sighed dramamtically, her eyes going wide and dreamy. "I bet he's strong and graceful and a little bit bad. Not bad-bad, but just...bad enough. You know?"

Bruno had no idea.

Sand fell all around them as the vision ended. "Okay, Bruno sighed, handing the tablet to Pepa without even glancing her way. She squealed happily and kissed her future husband's glass cheek in delight. "Gimme one'a those arepas first. Gotta get my strength back. I'm fourteen, yanno. No spring chicken."

"Thank you Brunito."

"You're welcome, Oven Girl. Glad I'm here for you two to - to exploit."

"Bruno!"

"Don't make us feel bad; that's not fair!"

"S'okay, I'll accept payment in baked goods. Lucky for you."

As much as he complained, Bruno relished the time with his sisters. It was a memory he often looked back on fondly as they grew up, especially as the girls started courting and fell in love. It was nice to see their lives unfolding like that; like the end of the story written just under a folded piece of paper, out of sight for everyone else but them.

So when Dolores came to him - nine years old, shyly tugging on the hem of his ruana - and started talking bout one of her little playmates using some fortune telling game in school that day, he chuckled softly under his breath. "Sure, kiddo," he said, hoisting his sobrina onto his shoulders. "C'mon. Let's go see your husband, huh?"

[so-sures-blog]

So … is he?

[I thought of this while showering at midnight, then wrote the whole thing in the next three hours on a school night.]

You're really gonna tell me they don't have the same eyes?

***

It always started as a question before it snowballs into something more.

“Dayeon, can we ask you a question?”

Dayeon turned to see 008 and 018 standing behind her. She smiled, trying to seem as open and friendly as possible. The Numbers were nice to her — intimidating in general — but indifferent to her mostly. They mostly kept to themselves and didn’t approach her often, but when they did she tried to be as genuine as possible. Ijin saw them as family and trusted them, so that meant Dayeon cared about them too.

“Yeah, what is it?” She asked 008, who was the one who spoke first.

The man — giant really, because Dayeon had to crane her head all the way up to look at him — shifted his feet, appearing oddly uncomfortable. 018 crossed his arms, defensive and avoiding her eyes.

“Well, 018 and I were discussing about 001 and his normal life — how he’s interacting with normal people his own age and —”

“Oh my God,” 018 interrupted, rolling his eyes. “We wanted to ask, is he gay?”

Dayeon choked and did a double-take. “What? No, he’s not. Why would you say that?”

“Because he has girls literally hanging off him and he doesn’t even notice! No guy would ever act like that unless he’s gay.”

“He’s not gay, just oblivious! This is the first time that he’s interacting with normal girls his age — he’s totally clueless when it comes to romance!” Dayeon argues back.

“Are you sure? Even if he’s oblivious he’s sure to pick up the cues of a girl liking him. He was literally trained to read body language,” 018 pointed out.

Dayeon pauses; that was actually a good point. She thought of all the times Yeona’s crush was painfully obvious. Was Ijin actually oblivious, or was he faking it? “Still, it's not like there were any girls that were interested in him back in the Camp for him to pick up signs; he was nine years old and all he was focused on was surviving.”

“Yeah, but so was 032 and he still —” 008 smacked 018 and he quickly stopped talking.

“What are you talking about?” 016 materialized behind her and Dayeon jumped; she didn’t even hear him coming.

“We’re asking her if 001 is gay,” 018 interjects bluntly before she can open her mouth.

“Is he?” 016 raised a brow. “I mean, it would certainly explain why he doesn’t notice all those girls.”

“Thank you,” 018 guestured to 016 empathetically.

“No, he’s not!” Dayeon said. “He’s shown no interest in guys!”

“If 001 has all those pretty girls hanging off of him and doesn’t have a girlfriend by now then he really is gay. Even if he’s oblivious he would notice someone taking an interest in him.” 016 pointed out.

“That’s because he isn’t even interested in romance. He’s more focused on his family and living his normal life. Besides, he isn’t really … emotionally available, if you know what I mean.” Dayeon winced, trying to phrase Ijin’s decade of trauma as delicately as possible.

“Oh, but 032 is?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” 016 dismissed immediately.

“Alright then. If you want to know so bad, I’ll just ask him myself,” Dayeon said. She turned around and scanned the area, taking note of where everyone was. 002 was off to the side restocking the supplies while 004 was beside him, cleaning his knife. 006 and 032 were settled down across the camp having lunch. She spotted her brother on the other side of the clearing.

Dayeon walked up to Ijin, who was busy organizing his guns.

“Ijin, can I ask you a question?” She asked, adopting an innocent expression. Her brother looked up before smiling that small, sweet genuine smile he always saved for her. For a moment, Dayeon almost felt a bit guilty before she shoved it away.

“Of course. What is it?”

Dayeon plopped to the ground beside him before taking a deep breath and saying —

“Ijin, are you gay?”

On the other side of the clearing, 006 spat out his drink.

“W-What?” Ijin looked startled at the question.

“Are you gay?” Dayeon repeated calmly. Vaguely, she can hear the sounds of 032 choking on his food and the thwack, thwack, thwack, of 006 smacking his back to clear his throat.

“N-No …?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes …?”

“Alright! Just wanted to know!” Dayeon said brightly before kissing his cheek and walking away. She could feel the eyes of all the other Numbers burning into her back and she tosses the group of 008, 018, and 016 a sweet, victorious smirk before heading to find 005.

She would find this hilarious.

[asteria-argo]

🌹🪻🌸🌺🌷🌻🌼💐🥀🪷💮

🌹🪻🌸🌺🌷🌻🌼💐🥀🪷💮

🪻🌻🌺💮🌸

For To All The Better Places

(I’m not sure you specified how many actual kids are in Jamie’s class. I know “twenty some” for sure.)

You responded to one of my chapter comments (about how much I adore the students) by saying you have pages and pages of notes on the kids. And are sure most of it won’t ever make it into the fic.

Please feel free to brag or lament or gush over any and all of the kids to your hearts content here! Doesn’t have to be something that will ever make it into the story. Perhaps especially if it isn’t gonna be in the story.

Jamie has 24 kids in his class and I am very happy to say that every single one of them have names and basic descriptions! Most of them aren't very in depth but they've all got a basic blurb that has a couple of their likes and dislikes, a couple key personality traits, and notes on their home life if it's relevant.

A lot of them are just filler characters who don't serve a lot of purpose except to fill the room, but in Act II of To All The Better Places I have an entire subplot planned for these kids, I've mapped out their interpersonal drama, I have diagrams, it's a whole thing. Particularly Shiloh, who a couple people have already guessed will be important. I have three pages of backstory on her alone.

The thing about Shiloh is that she is in essence, Jamie before the fork in the road between kindness and cruelty. She is quite literally Jamie's mini-me, she acts exactly like him. She's overly confident and rude and doesn't have a ton of respect for the authority, which does include Jamie a lot of the time despite the fact we mostly see them getting along, but is also smart and kind and compassionate, absolutely filled to the brim with ambition and talent. She picks fights on the playground and disrupts lessons a lot and has an ongoing feud with several different teachers and students that usually ends up being Jamie's problem; She is also fiercely protective of her friends, she taught herself BSL so that she could speak to Toby when he doesn't have his hearing aids in, she helps Jamie set up for class every single morning, Kareem had to cap how many library books she was allowed to check out at once because she tried to borrow 18 at once and spent her entire recess arguing with him about it because she was absolutely positive she'd be able to get through all of them in two weeks.

She exists to parallel Jamie, she's a bratty but talented problem child who has a rough home life and is acting out because of it. Particularly, she exists to show Ted who has whatever the opposite of rose tinted glasses are on about Jamie, that things could have been different. She exists as physical proof that someone like Jamie could have been reasoned with and handled with kindness, if he'd only actually approached Jamie with curiosity instead of judgement, because for as much as Ted can believe that Jamie's behaviour was insular and judge him for it, it is near impossible for him to do the same thing to a nine year old girl that is clearly going through something. Especially because Jamie? He isn't going to let Ted judge Shiloh the same way he judged him.

Shiloh, Ted learns, is Jamie Tartt in miniature. Right down to the position she plays. “I’ll be striker,” she tells her half of the team. She’s not the captain, that honour going to Miss Imara, but she commandeers everyone's attention uncaring of that little fact, her hair pulled out of her face by two neat braids with red and blue ribbons braided through “ ‘cause I’m the best at that.” “I wanted to be striker,” Jonah says, looking a little hurt. Shiloh rolls her eyes at him, patting him on the shoulder consolingly. Ted’s not sure how a nine year old girl manages to come across as condescending, but she certainly finds a way. “You can still get goals even if you aren’t a striker” she says “you’re really fast, so you’d be a better winger like when we play at the park, so if we wanna win we gotta think about that.” “Isn’t this supposed to be just for fun?” Toby asks, head tilted to the side curiously. “winning is fun.” Shiloh says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I have a scene, like the one above but hopefully a little more fleshed out, planned for later on in the story to really make Ted think about the parallels between Shiloh and Jamie. He already thinks they act very similar, but it's the final nail in the coffin seeing her play and seeing nothing but Jamie. Which, since you've been reading the story and already know, Ted has a bit of a problem with confirmation bias in this fic.

This answer kind of turned into the Shiloh show but what can I say I love her, she's a very pivotal character in this fic. I have more to say about the other kids but this has already gotten quite long so I will be leaving it here with this picture of my actual physical notes that I have pinned above my desk for quick reference when I'm writing!

yes, I did alphabetize the roll call, and also yes, I did create a physical diagram of who is friends with who, and also also yes, I have all of their table groups written out in accordance to that diagram so there are no mortal enemies or best friends on the same table to cause problems. I'm thorough.