#so brass knuckles would actually be so handy

[freaky-flawless]

I just realized what a travesty it is that Wonder Wolf doesn't have brass knuckles.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

Like a Shadow in the Night

She was here to study the dead lord's library. She was not supposed to pay any mind to the imprisoned dark mage. He, however, did not agree.

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

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The flames of the candles flickered in the air as she moved through the room, floorboards creaking, shadows dancing around her. The storm outside was raging, gathering its strength for the night, shaking the walls of the old mansion. It seemed alive, the wind crawling through every niche, every nook, rattling the roof, moving curtains, howling around every corner.

Outside, she knew, the Elite Guard was having a tough night in the wind, the rain, the hail. Lightning flashed in the sky, lighting the room for a brief moment before deafening thunder pierced her ears. Through the stained windows, massive dark silhouettes bowed to the powers of the sky, small twigs and branches occasionally hitting the building. A gust of hail splattered against the glass.

She was glad she didn’t have to be out there right now, guarding every entrance, every square of the perimeter. Instead, she was up here, listening to the unfortunate moods of nature as she sat down at the small table and placed the candelabra next to the pile of old leather-bound books she wanted to take a look at.

From time to time, she could hear a distant humming, the clang of something being dragged over metallic bars, or the sound of an object hitting a wall. She didn’t spare it much attention, for she was here to check out the library of a fallen lord, not to deal with the imprisoned mage. His magic didn’t work in here, anyway. The late former inhabitant had made sure to secure the entire place and adjacent grounds against any form of magic. He’d seen himself too safe for too long, though, and when he went on a stroll through the woods, one of the witches he’d had hunted by a local band of anti-magic veterans had made short work of him.

Now, all the writings and ancient scrolls he’d collected throughout his life and passion for witch hunting could come in handy for the Elite Guard and their fight in the looming war between the Dark Forces and the King’s Guard. And since she was an expert in the field, the Guard had sent her in here to do some research.

Fiddling with the long blonde braid hanging over her shoulder, she skimmed a few paragraphs on the history of the Shadow Clan, spotting nothing she didn’t already know. Maybe this book wasn’t what she’d been looking for, the information it contained seemed to be too basic to tell her anything new. After carefully flipping through a couple more chapters, she placed it aside and opened the next book, a small one with yellowing pages and paling ink. It was written in tiny, cursive handwriting and she had to bring her face closer to decipher anything. She let out a curse at the little light her candles could provide her, hoping the storm would let up soon so someone could repair the giant chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings in every room. Or maybe they could just fetch her a few torches, but every person in the proximity of the mansion was indispensable from their current job. She sighed. The candles would have to do.

A few hours passed, the storm kept howling and her head began to grow heavy. She had to blink away the tiredness and concentrate on the pages, the words starting to swim before her eyes.

“Doesn’t that get boring after a while?” She jumped, accidentally ripping part of the page she had just been about to turn.

There, in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, was a young man. His clothes were dirty and torn. The mop of wild hair on his head was hanging into his face, glowing auburn in the spare light. Impossibly green eyes were watching her and a shudder ran down her spine at the intensity. She felt like prey under that gaze.

“How- how did you get out?” Alarmed, she stood, holding the candelabra in front of her as if it would actually be of help, would he decide to attack her.

He shrugged, taking a bite from a bread roll she realized he must have taken from the basket of food she’d brought and placed in the kitchen, for herself and for the guards after a shift change. Which, she reminded herself with a gulp, wouldn’t be for at least another hour. And even if there wasn’t a storm raging right now, nobody would hear her screams from inside the mansion.

He chewed and raised an eyebrow at her defensive stance. “Relax, I’m not going to do anything to you.” When she didn’t move, he took a few slow steps towards her, a wicked grin forming on his face. “What, do you not trust me?”

She didn’t dare leave him out of her sight for one second as he started to stroll around the room, ran his fingertips over dusty surfaces, gaze wandering over the bookshelves lining the walls, the spiderwebs, the windows, and finally, her. She felt trapped, although he wasn’t standing between her and the door anymore. She could make a run for it. But what would that do? He’d escaped his prison; she didn’t know what else he could do.

“How did you get out?” she repeated.

He was tall but skinny, maybe she had a chance of overpowering him, if needed. But something told her she shouldn’t underestimate him. It had taken the Elite Guard years to track him down, months to finally trap him, with the help of a royal knight disguised as a trader who’d been able to get close enough and backstab him at the last minute. Hundreds of men had died in an attempt to catch who they called the Shadowbringer. Others called him the Night Fury. Offspring of Lightning and Death itself. If she didn’t know about this place’s securities against magic, she’d have suspected the storm was his doing.

He sneered. “They think all I am is because of my magic. They think they take that away from me and I am nothing more than an empty vessel.” He fished something out of his pocket that looked suspiciously like a lock pick, twirled it between his fingers and put it away again. “But I’m not stupid.” He spoke with a calm, collected voice that could have fooled her if she didn’t know better. There was a dangerous power behind that voice and she got chills from the way his eyes drifted over her body. “Meredith, isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer, but the twitch of her mouth and slight widening of her eyes revealed her surprise. “Yeah, I thought so. The guards are arrogant enough to think themselves above me when they talk right next to me, like I’m incapable of listening or thinking just because they have me locked up– and, and some kind of… of power over me.” He was gesticulating at nothing in particular. Something in his eyes turned dark as he regarded her. “What about you, Meredith? Do you think you’re mightier than me because you’re collecting knowledge on how to defeat me?”

The hairs on her arms stood up at the implication that, even though he was at the Guard’s mercy at the moment, he could still defeat – kill – them all. She gathered her words and her voice back from the pit of her stomach. “I think you’re supposed to be in your cell right now.”

Like a shark sensing blood in the water, he heard the slight tremble in her voice, smirking at her. From his other pocket, he produced an apple – the red one she’d personally picked from the market this morning – and tossed it into the air a couple times, catching it with ease every time. He might be distracted enough, she thought, maybe she could formulate some kind of plan, or, or…

“I’m supposed to be many things right now.” He approached the desk and she instinctively took a step backwards, clutching the candelabra that her knuckles turned white. He laughed, low and deep and alluring. She gulped, heart hammering in her chest. In the back of her mind, she saw the field of dead bodies, saw the black skin, the shadows that had gorged themselves on their lives, eyes milky and gray and dead–

“Don’t come any closer!” Her voice was definitely trembling now, along with her hand. Molten wax ran down the brass candleholder.

Unimpressed, he put the apple down on a corner of the desk, on top of a pile of notes on alchemy. Idly flipping through a few sheets, he rolled his eyes. “I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.” When she still didn’t relax, he waved at her tight grip. “And will you finally put that thing away? I’m not a vampire.”

She did. She put it on the desk, not because she trusted him, but because she would burn her skin from the wax if she kept shaking like that. She didn’t move her hand away from it, though. Just in case.

“Wh-what do you want?”

“From you?” He looked up from the page he was reading. “Oh, nothing, really. I just like to get out of my lovely cell once in a while and roam this place. It has lots and lots of secret paths and hiding places, did you know that?” He raised his chin and nodded at the chandelier above them. “A little extravagant for my taste, though.”

Cocking her head, she regarded him, curiosity taking over. “Why don’t you just leave?”

He glanced at her, again with the single raised brow. “Sure, and then I’ll play a game of tag with your royal guard friends out there.”

She frowned, not quite buying that argument. Surely, if he wanted, he could find a way to escape. Maybe he was just putting on an act and he wasn’t as powerful as he made himself appear? No, she didn’t believe that. He must have a different plan in mind – if only she could figure it out, figure him out…

Suddenly, that wicked grin was back on his face, and before she could react, he stepped close to her, so very close. She froze, her breath hitched, the warmth of another body almost tangible. He leaned in so that their noses were almost brushing, his magical green eyes trained to hers, locking her in place. A swoop went through her stomach and her heart was beating so loud, she was sure he could hear it. She swallowed when she felt her body tingle at the proximity. Not now, not here… Concentrate… Steeling herself, she pushed these feelings away.

“Or maybe you could help me. Pretty thing like you should be able to distract the guards for a few minutes…” His fingers lightly touched her wrist, trailed up her arm, leaving maddening electricity in its wake. Dammit…

“Or I could make you…” From one second to the other, his face hardened, something dark glossing over his eyes, his hands gripping her arms so tightly it hurt. A short, terrified cry escaped her and he leaned ever closer to her instinctively retreating form, but there was no way to escape, he held her firmly in his grasp. “It would be so easy,” he whispered into her ear and a shiver like a cold shower overcame her entire body. Wow… Through all her emotions, admiration crept towards the surface, and she let it hover there. As long as it didn’t break through her mask…

Ostensibly satisfied with her reaction, he pulled away from her, dangerously unpredictable smirk back in place. With a heart pounding for several reasons, she watched him pick up his – her – apple, toss it into the air one more time, and make towards the door. “If you need me,” he called back without turning his head, “I’ll be in the shadows.”

A few moments after he’d left, the life rushed back into her veins, her knees wobbled and she collapsed into her chair.

“And scene!”

As the lights went back on, someone came to blow out the candles, people started clapping and cheering and slowly, the crowd around her came back into focus. And with this change of atmosphere, Meredith turned back into Astrid.

From around the corner, Hiccup sauntered in, the wicked Shadowbringer grin morphed back into that gap-toothed smile she liked so much.

“I think we really got it this time!” she heard Gary call from his director’s chair, but Astrid barely noticed. She held up her hand for a high-five and when Hiccup accepted it with an excited whoop, the tingles were back in full force. This time, she didn’t try to push them away.

“Fuck, Hiccup!” She laughed and lightly shoved his arm. “I was actually scared back there; you were so amazing!”

An adorable blush spread on his cheeks. “Thanks. Not bad yourself.”

Someone shouted, “Early lunch, everybody!”, and she immediately caught Hiccup’s gaze.

“Lunch in your trailer?” he asked in a low voice, a secret, suggestive glimmer in his eyes. She nodded, lips tingling in anticipation.

“Meet you there in ten.”

[writtenjewels]

Bloodlust part 3

Part One, Part Two

Being a vampire and being the leader of a lethal gang worked very well together. As he climbed up the criminal ladder, Maxwell often finished his victims by sinking his teeth in. Of course he was always careful to mask the puncture wounds with knife cuts or hard blows from brass knuckles.

With the arrival of the Assassins and the Rooks, his meals were even easier to come by. Though that was very low on his list of reasons why he was interested in Jacob Frye. He watched the man fight on several occasions now-- both out on the street against Maxwell's Blighters and in Robert Topping's fight club-- and found Jacob's style magnificent.

Him chipping away at Starrick's powerful hold of the city only made him more intriguing. Maxwell was pleased the younger man agreed to working together.

Tonight Jacob was working along the Thames. Maxwell watched as the Assassin hopped to a boat carrying cargo meant for Starrick. An explosion cut through the quiet, causing the Blighters nearby to merge onto Jacob's position. Maxwell chuckled a little to himself. He had a suspicion Jacob did that on purpose just to start a fight. The young man certainly seemed more in his element throwing punches or shooting his pistol.

It gave Maxwell a brilliant idea for their first outing together.

Jacob dumped the dead Blighters into the river. That was Maxwell's cue to go down and have his supper. He dived in, grabbed the body, and pulled it with him to the nearest bank. There was a lovely wound in the Blighter's gut where Jacob shot him. He bent his head down and began to feed.

“Roth?” Maxwell froze, slowly lifting his head to meet Jacob's stunned gaze. Maxwell inwardly cursed; he was usually much more careful. “What are you doing?” Jacob asked.

Maxwell ran his tongue over his bloodstained lips. If anyone else caught him, he would have killed them immediately. But with Jacob...

“I'm drinking his blood. I'm a vampire.”

Jacob stared, his mouth open. Slowly he closed his mouth again and held out his hand. There was blood on his knuckles from his recent fight. Despite having a corpse at his feet, this blood seemed more tantalizing. Maxwell ran his tongue over the knuckle, feeling oddly disappointed it was the metal he tasted and not Jacob's warm flesh.

“So.” Jacob cleared his throat. “How long have you been like this?”

“Years. I was in the circus when it happened.”

“I imagine it comes in handy now,” Jacob remarked.

“It does.” Maxwell finished cleaning the knuckle. “I must say you're taking this very well, my dear.”

“I don't really know how to take it. What does being a vampire mean, aside from you drinking blood?”

Maxwell wasn't sure he could really explain it himself. He wasn't that different; he just needed blood to survive, and he could communicate with crows. He told Jacob about being roughly the same as any other human but not about that other skill. He might want to use it some day without Jacob's knowledge.

“Don't let me keep you from your meal, then.” Jacob sat and actually watched as Maxwell fed from the shot Blighter.

He was right in calling Jacob the bravest man in London.

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 226, Replies Part 2

1) “Oh she’s not happy having to revisit all those painful memories, at all.”- That and I think that’s she’s pissed that Curious is judging and labelling her from an outsider’s perspective of her actions, re-contextualising them to fit within Curious’s views, rather than honestly attempting to see things from Toga’s perspective and understand how she sees the world. Curious is interesting in Toga’s story, but she’s not really interested in ‘hearing’ the story as it stands- simply finding out the parts of it that align most with the narrative she intends to write for the MLA’s propaganda

2) “Oh fuck  you, you overgrown evil smuf. What, isn’t blowing her up enough, you also need to conjure a fucking gauntlet to flatten her face?”- I kinda think she does actually. Curious’s quirk seems to differ from Bakugou’s in that it seems she can’t explode herself, but can explode other things. Curious is able to detonate her mines with a thought from a safe distance, but said distance indicates that she ‘needs’ to be that far enough away from the explosion, since unlike Bakugou she’s not immune to the blasts that she produces. This indicates that her quirk is supposed to be something to be used long-distance, as is she’s too close, Curious will get hurt from her own explosions. 

Therefore, her body can’t naturally explode itself, nor does it have natural defences against explosions, so to help encourage Curious to keep her distance, the quirk simply turns any object or person she touches into a walking bomb. If Curious picked up a stick, she could turn said stick into a mine, but exploding it would also blow her hand up. Therefore, the gauntlet is an object designed to be an activator and focuser of her quirk, directing the explosion in one direction whilst also acting as an object she can activate the quirk on. Plus, it’s a massive big brass knuckle, so that’s always handy to have in a fight.

3) “Sure, it wasn’t the way she was treated ever since she was a kid by parents that clearly despised her for being different and how she was made to just act like she was told instead of actually helping her understand what she was doing, or finding ways to help her, oh no, its society’s fault….”- Well, in certain regards that’s not wrong either- it was society’s collective pressurisation and condemnation of non-conformists and their families that motivated Toga’s parents to teach their daughter to suppress her ‘undesirable’ traits, though presumably it’s something along the line of an informal understanding?

Society obviously won’t tell parents to force their children to repress themselves to Toga’s extent outright, but the collective opinions of the people around them clearly would have had a negative view of the family as a reflection on the daughter’s behaviour, so whilst it didn’t outright ‘say’ that Toga needed to ‘conceal, don’t feel’ herself, it didn’t dissuade the family from taking that course of action, even if they took things too far in the end.

4) “Not that the detail would matter, you already said you want to use her death in your favour and is willing to distort it to do so, and if you only want the details to just satiate your thirst for knowledge then- “- Well, for Curious to twist the narrative to her advantage, she has to ‘know’ what that narrative is in full. She may be a crazed fanatic, but she’s also a journalist at heart, and she clearly wants to confirm or validate her hypothesis with Toga before she goes to print. Curious may be fine with altering the view of Toga’s past to suit the MLA’s agenda, but outright printing and publishing false information? That’s something no journalist would willing do- you can’t move the people’s hearts with faked news sensations- it’s gotta be genuine at heart!

5) “I said before how Toga seems to be out of touch with reality, like the Pyro from TF2, correlating her murders with normal stuff, but now I’m getting sad because I know that she really never was taught what or why it wasn’t right.”- It’s hard to teach somebody right from wrong when they’ve been taught from an early age that part of themselves is naturally ‘wrong’ even though it feels right to them and is a natural part of their psychological make-up. Toga couldn’t find acceptance within Society’s ridged views of ‘normalcy’, so ironically, it was only within the more open-minded and accepting group or murderers and villains in the league that she can find a place to be who she really is. 

It’s only amongst fellow outcasts who don’t fit into the system that Toga can be told she’s not wrong for being the way she is, so clearly defending them, even to the point of getting shredded like this, is clearly something ‘right’ for Toga. She’s a serial Killer, but she’s got a heart that cares deeply about things around her, just like everybody else. If she can only find a place to be amongst a villain group like the league, then clearly she’ll embrace being a villain if it means protecting the one place she feels at home with.

6) “She put another mask to escape the things that woman was saying, and the pain she was feeling. It was right when she was being told how miserable she was for acting like like that that she become another person, again, not exactly subtle, but still really well placed.”-It may also be partially out of a desire for companionship in a really stressful moment. It’s all but stated that Toga swings both ways because her idea of suitable partners is tied up with blood, which doesn’t differentiate between male or female (unless you want to get some in-depth CSI analysis in there) so Toga ‘loves’ Uraraka as equally as she does Izuku- in fact, I kinda get the vibe she wants to be in a relationship with the both of them at the same time. 

Toga’s alone, in mental and physical agony and facing the very real possibility that she’s about to die here, so her transforming into Uraraka could be seen as her trying to get close to one of the people she most admires as a means of having them spiritually standing beside her in this sea of enemies. Toga thinks she’s going to die alone here, separated from her teammates, and without them, she lacks anybody else in the ‘normal’ world that she used to have a bond with- her friends, her family, all that vanished when she took her mask off, but in this manner, she can feel like she’s got somebody in her corner cheering her on even as she faces the firing squad down.

7) “Yeah, it seems like it was just that, he knows that Midoriya loves Uraraka, and she subconsciously turned into her, because, like she put, she wanted to get closer to the people she loves, and Midoriya is the spitting image of that boy she turned into a knife-holder.”- Actually, it might be the opposite- Uraraka seems more aware of her feelings towards Izuku, than vice-versa- Izuku’s got a lot on his mind right now, what with All Might retiring and the changes in OFA, so he’s not really thought a lot about romance in general, but Uraraka’s free of all those worries, so she’s more able to see Izuku is a relaxed light and admire him from afar. It’s similar to how Toga admires the pair of them from afar, and just like Uraraka secretly hopes Izuku will one day understand and return her affections, Toga hopes the same from the pair of them.

She wants to be close to both of them, because she can tell there’s a genuine bond between them that she also wants- it may actally be exactly what she was looking for when she gave her own ‘love confession’ to Saito, and not receiving what she was hoping for, consoled herself by indulging in her blood cravings whilst looking for that special something in her victims, something she wants, but has never been given, no matter how hard she acted the normal girl- somebody to genuinely understand and bond with the ‘real’ version of Toga, in spite of her flaws.

8) “SHE CAN USE OTHER’S QUIRKS AS WELL?!

HOLY FUCK TOGA WHY DIDN’T YOU EVER USED THAT BEFORE?! OR DIDN’T YOU KNOW ABOUT IT? HOW COULD YOU NEVER DISCOVER SOMETHING LIKE THIS?!”-It’s a logical side-effect of her own power’s limitation- like Monoma, she has a time limit for how long she can stay transformed, so she’s already had to deal with the complications that come from her body physically transforming into a new shape whilst moving around- it’s difficult enough to learn how to move normally in a new body- activating said body’s unique quirk would be an additional complication on top of that, especially since it’d be rare of Toga to have studied her kills enough to realise what their powers were and how they used them. 

She had her quirk’s usage suppressed throughout Middle School to fit in, so she only really started using it regularly once she ended up on the run from the heroes and police. Just like Deku, she never pushed her powers to the limit, and thus lacked an understanding of her power’s potential, nor had a reason to experiment with her abilities- she got along just fine with what she had by drinking their blood and physically transforming into somebody else- she probably assumed that was the extent of her quirk’s shapeshifting abilities. Additionally, it seems Toga likes turning into ‘cute’ people she likes, whom all seem to have a generally humanoid body-type. Toga isn’t interested in drinking the blood of guys like Shoji or Ojiro, because they’re not her type, therefore she never turned into an in-humanoid body before and thus never realised she could duplicate heteromorphic-quirks as well, in addition to regular quirks.

Uraraka is the exception to all that, because circumstances prevented Tog from Sucking her dry when she got her blood sample, and her interest in her drove her to analyse her character and fighting style at the first opportunity she got, which happened to be the licence test, where Uraraka had to demonstrate her quirk’s combat usage by necessity. Her quirk having such an easy activation switch and physical release move, in contrast to whatever Curious does to mentally explode her mines, made it even easier for Toga to use the quirk, because she knew Uraraka to a better Standard than her usual targets, thanks in part to her obsession with shipping her, Uraraka and Izuku.

9) “HOLY FUCK NOW SHE’S ABOUT TO WIPE THE WHOLE ROOM CLEAN WITH JUST A SINGLE MOVE

SHE’S ABOUT TO SLAM-DUNK THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS”- Good think Uraraka’s power is a combo-type. Land consecutive hits, and then finish off the special move for a multiplied high score and a TPK. Therein lies the downside of surrounding yourself with mindless followers willing to sacrifice themselves for your sake- if something happens to you, they’re all left wide open for a killing stoke. After all, they’re already willing to throw their lives away to protect you, if you get hurt, they’re going to be too preoccupied with trying to save you to think about protecting themselves, hence why Toga was able to float the entire street before anybody could stop her- their fanaticism backfired on Curious’s strategy to beat Toga.  

As an aside, Toga’s also really lucky that Uraraka’s quirk has high defensive properties as well. It doesn’t matter how hard you hit somebody if you weigh absolutely nothing- the law of inertia will send you flying backwards instead, minimising the damage you take from whoever’s targeted by the quirk. In fact, that seems to be how Curious goes flying off there- the force of her own explosion buffeted her upwards once her weightlessness came into effect and she floated backwards from the blast, hence how she gets so high so fast. That actually adds more Karma to her demise- not only is she killed by her own power indirectly, she’s killed because she literally and metaphorically got too close to the sun in the process of achieving her goals. 

Uraraka’s power is touch-based, Curious’s is long-range and requires no physical movement to activate. If Curious had stayed away from Toga and relived upon her meat-shields to defend her, she’d have beaten Toga out in endurance, but because she got too wrapped up in the story, and assumed Toga was too near-dead to properly fight back, she got up close and personal to get the in-depth scoop, allowing her to be affected by the zero gravity and for her entire gang of followers to fall next when they realised she was in danger and took their eyes off Toga. Curious killed herself by engaging in a needless battle to state her own desires, rather than relying on the disposable Liberation mooks to wear the league down from a safe distance.

10) “Uraraka would instinctively know to touch her enemies to dispose of them, but you wouldn’t, and yet you still acted in that way. Like you almost became her for a moment…”- Interestingly, it seems to combine their fighting style for a moment there. Toga’s dropped her last knife, so she’s bare-handed and thus not able to fight in her preferred manner, whereas Uraraka never uses a weapon because her gravity power is an unparalleled advantage in close-range, the only downside being that Uraraka needs to be physically capable of getting close and taking the opponent in hand-to-hand. Toga’s trained her body-to above average levels in her serial killer modius operendi, but she’s based her entire fighting style around using blades and hand-held weapons to attack, lacking bare-handed means of fighting. Toga seems to instinctually combine both their fighting styles to rapidly affect as many liberation goons as she can, before she even recognises what she’s doing. 

Part of it may be instinctual or subconscious understanding of how Uraraka’s powers work thanks to her Quirk’s ability to absorb and replicate her appearance and quirk, part of it may be toga subconsciously realising the best way to take advantage of her new-found power before everybody can react to the sudden turn of events, but either way it’s indicative of what Toga said about becoming those she loves. Toga basically becomes Uraraka’s evil counterpart here, using her powers in an overwhelmingly violent manner completely opposite to the first time we saw her use it to save Izuku- from falling to boot, for extra irony- and the torn ‘mask’ on the double-spread shot showing Uraraka’s warped expression with the ‘real’ Toga’s bloodied face peeking through it. It’s like Toga summoned Uraraka in her hour of need to save her and fight beside her on behalf of the league, and it’s possible that if Toga absorbed enough blood from her target, she could actually develop a perfect mental copy of Uraraka inside her own head, fitting with her desire to become her in mind and body.

11) “FUCK’S SAKE HORIKOSHI, STOP WITH THE FUCKING WHIP, I’M TRYING TO UNDERSTAND WHAT’S GOING ON”- Just Horikoshi reminding you and Toga that she hasn’t miraculously healed from her internal injuries, she’s still basically 95% dead on her feet, and that her borrowed power, and the transformation that comes with it, is running out. It’s actually possible that the more Toga uses a Target’s duplicated quirk, the faster her blood supply and resulting transformation runs out, hence the mask starting to peel off here is a sign that she hit her limit when using zero gravity and can’t float any more target, though the end result would still be the same even if she didn’t voluntarily release the quirk.

12) “Oh yeah, she pulled a shonen-protag on us, and we didn’t even saw it coming”- The league didn’t just hijack the title, they hijacked the 1A kid’s roles as heroes in the story, will all the associated benefits that come with the job, such as spontaneously developing new powers ( or rather, re-contextualising the powers they already possess in new and effective ways)  in crisis situations.

13) “DING DONG, THE BITCH’S FUCKING DEAD”- I actually like the fan- translated version of this scene more.

Really sells how she’s so wrapped up in her journalistic mania, the concept of her own morality hasn’t even entered her mind, even as she’s plummeting to the ground.

14) “My god, that was quite the backstory, and I feel like a fool for being played like that by Horikoshi, that bastard. I was believing he would go the “She was born twisted” angle and was quite disappointed for a moment, before he slapped me in the face and said “HA, YOU’RE WRONG, YOU IDIOT””- Rather than ‘twisted’ it’s more like Toga was born a little ‘different’ than others, but societal pressure and their desire to not be seen an ‘inadequate parents’ due to their daughter’s ‘bad behaviour’ caused her parent to attempt to over-correct Toga’s behaviour, eventually pushing her to the breaking point. If anything Twisted her, it’s the social consciousness that her inherent needs were something to be repressed rather than accepted and adapted. 

Toga just needed somebody to understand her- still does, in fact- which may be why she’s so fascinated with Izuku, who’s somebody willing to reach a hand out to others in need, even if he knows they’re not on his side, as Toga saw first-hand in the licence exam.

@thelreads​

[shiftysdogtags]

hellooo :) would I be about to get a ship, por favor? I'm 5'3, really short silver hair with the sides and back shaved, about 125lbs. I'm very rough and tumble, I love working with my hands, I'm a drummer. Very much a tomboy. Almost always wearing a backwards snapback. Very very solid and aggressive exterior with the mushiest of interiors. A hopeless romantic, really. I love animals. I have two dogs. I'm very handy. Always down to fight, very protective of those I love, but very loving. Thanks!

I really hope you like this because i can really see these happening and i am 100% jealous😂

All ships, fics, and headcanons are open for the pacific and band of brothers💕

Romantically

Buck Compton

As soon as I read ‘backwards snapback’ I seen the baseball scene and I knew you both would be such a cute couple

Buck seems really chill and up for anything and I get the vibe from you too

When you’re both together you vibe in your own little bubble together and you don’t need anyone else

Even if you’re not actually doing an activity together, just sitting in the same room together is enough for the both of you

But I can also see you having a dart board in your house and you both like to chill and play a game or two and of course that leads to you both being competitive

He likes that you’re independent and you can do things by yourself

And he loves that you can help each other out when it comes to diy or fixing things

Like you Buck can be mushy and emotional and he needed to be wrapped up in a blanket and loved

while you don’t talk about your emotions with each other much you have no problem doing it when it’s really needed and the other person is always there to listen

Like if you feel upset over something he said he apologises straight away and he thinks of everything he can do to make it up to you

Buck is so protective just like you and if anyone crosses you they also cross him and the both of you work as a single unit

He is also a hopeless romantic and he’s the type to bring you hope flowers just because he wanted to or to buy you random gifts because he loves to spoil you

Please love this sweet man

I can seriously feel it in my gut that you and Buck are the most amazing couple ever and I will defend this to the death

Friendship

Joe Toye

This fighty man has given you engraved brass knuckles for your birthday but it’s like ‘happy birthday I love you so much from your bestie x’

He looks like he could beat the crap out of anyone and you give me that vibe too

When he first met you he actually thanked the forces that be because he had finally met someone who just gets him

You and Joe are like the same person and you think the same things at the the same time

You can talk to each other by simple eye contacts or eye rolls

Both such a power friendship and you’re both intimidating to people who don’t know you

But when people actually take the time to listen and get to know you they can you’re both actually completely sweethearts who just like to be left alone together to have fun

Joe loves to play with your dogs and he so comes over just to sit on the sitting room floor and play with them

He hates fixing things so naturally he calls you his best friend to help him out

And he will sit and watch you doing whatever it is and he talks to you about the most random of things

With you it’s super easy and he feels like he can be himself because you seem so chill and he likes that you don’t judge whatever he says no matter how weird or random

He’s such a soft person despite his rough and ready appearance

And when he wants to talk about his feelings you’re his go to person because he knows that his words will go no further than you and whatever secret he tells you will be kept forever

[leximpwrites]

Seeker 1

The first part of my current project! Please bear in mind that this is still a work in progress, and these may or may not be the final versions. As always, feedback is appreciated and encouraged! Also an fyi, these chapters will probably average between 1,500 and 2,500 words each, so I’ll be sticking them behind page breaks. Also just so you guys know what you’re getting into. Lol

@officialleehadan​ @kitvinslakte​ @nox919​ @dierotenixe​ @stuck-in-theclouds​ @gyvorn12​ @apenvssword​ @wildforestferret​ @krceramics​ @starsdreaming​ @wordsdreaming

The musical ringing of a sword clearing its sheath is actually the first sign of trouble, though to be completely honest, I'm really not paying attention to the rest of the bar. I'm intent on the map in front of me, and the places the owner is marking on it. 

I turn to look over my shoulder and see three toughs, blades drawn, facing off against a pair of personal guards who are escorting a young noble boy, and who is currently hiding behind them. 

"Ye spilled mah drink, ye stupid cur!" snarls the largest of the three. He has the rolling burr of the mountain tribes to the north, and a face only a mother could love, nose clearly having been broken in three places, several ugly scars, and a large wart on his left cheek. 

"Back off, commoner!" the older of the two guards growls back, a short sword in one hand, a long knife in the other. He has the air of an experienced fighter, and I would bet good money on him being able to handle any two of the three in front of him without too much effort. "I'm no fool! You were trying to lift milord's purse!"

"Liar!" the northerner yells, and lunges forward. 

He doesn't even get close.

I'm always impressed with how quiet my apprentice can be when he has a mind to. Even I'm slightly surprised when Jax seems to materialize out of nowhere behind the three thugs. He catches the leader almost out of midair, and tosses him halfway across the room. The thug lands on a table, which was never made to take that kind of abuse, and crashes to the floor. Before the other two can react, he grabs each one by their collars, and slams them into each other. Stunned, they collapse in a heap on the floor.

The situation dealt with, Jax looks up and catches my eye, before smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, sir."

"No, good job, Jax," I tell him approvingly. I turn back to the barkeep and hand him several gold regents, and then several more. "These are for the mess and table, and those are for the information." 

He bobs his head gratefully and pockets the coins. "Thankee, Sir Seeker," he says with a genuine smile. "You an' yours are always welcome 'ere." 

I nod my thanks and signal to Jax to pick up the two at his feet while I retrieve the northerner from the wreckage of the table. The young noble and his two guards take that as their cue and quietly slip out the door. I make a mental note of the house sigil on one of the guards sleeves. I’ll pay them a visit tomorrow and make sure the boy is alright. It never hurts to cultivate goodwill amongst the upper class.

"We'll drop this trash off at the Guard house on our way back to the barracks," I say, both to the barkeep and to Jax, before we turn and head outside. It's raining lightly, typical for this time of year, and it rouses the three miscreants from their semi-conscious daze. They struggle briefly, dismayed to find themselves in the custody of two Seekers. I keep a close eye on them, wary of any tricks they might have. A hidden blade, or some other unpleasantness.

"So, what did the barkeep give us, sir?" Jax asks, shoving the two men ahead of him roughly as we head down the stone street. Imperial Engineers are truly masters of their craft, the road paved with broad, triangular stones.

"Some good, solid information, and a worrying pattern," I tell him, retrieving the city map from the belt pouch I had stuffed it into. The bartender had marked a number of spots, and I point them out. "Look at the number of sightings there have been in just this district alone."

"What do you think, a nest?" he asks after looking it over, sounding a little nervous. Sometimes I forget that despite his size, Jax is still a lad. 

"Most likely," I reply as we round a corner and spot the Guard house up ahead. The soldier on duty salutes us smartly, and hands our prisoners off to one of his subordinates after we explain what happened.

I resume our conversation once we head back out into the rain. "Probably a new queen in the catacombs under the city trying to stake out its territory."

I suppose I should introduce myself before we get any further into my tale, huh?

My name is Zepara Alchanic, and I, along with my apprentice Jaxus Luteno, are Royal Seekers currently stationed in Throne City, the capital of the Human Empire. 

And what are Seekers, you ask? We're monster hunters. Damn good ones, too. Tailor made for our job through a series of alchemical and magical transformations called The Proofing. It gives us the physical traits we need to fight monsters, and years of training gives us the skills.

Sometimes, in my darker moments, I wonder just how much we give up to become what we are. 

But usually, I feel the trade is worth it. I am very good at what I do. Technically my oath is to serve the Eternal King, but I see it as less loyalty to the crown, and more loyalty to the nation and its people. My job is to hunt down and destroy monsters that threaten the lives of everyday citizens. 

But back to my tale. 

I give Jax's shoulder an encouraging pat, despite the fact that I have to reach well above my own head to do it.

 "Don't worry, lad," I say, careful to keep my tone light. No need to worry the boy. "Even a full nest isn't much of a threat to a pair of Seekers who know what they're headed into. Just stick by me, remember your training, and you'll be fine." 

That seems to lift his spirits, and he nods, then begins studiously checking over his gear. I watch him for a moment, making sure he’s doing it properly. Satisfied he’s going about it just as I taught him, I follow suit. A Seeker relies on their gear. If your gear fails you in a fight, you’re dead, pure and simple.

Taking on a shade nest would actually be a good challenge for Jax, now that I think about it. He’s been progressing well since I became his mentor four years ago, but he tends to underestimate himself, and it holds him back a little. This will be a good way to show him what he can really do, and give his ego a healthy boost in the process. 

We finish our gear-check just as we reach the entrance to the underground portion of the city. There are thousands of miles of tunnels, galleries, and cellars under Throne City.

Originally it was just the mines under the dwarf fortress-city that is now the Imperial Palace, but over the centuries each generation dug their own underground portions and linked it into the already existing network, The end result of that, of course, being a complex labyrinth of truly staggering size. 

It can be very, very easy to get lost down there. 

I dig out a key that every Seeker is given when they complete their training. It gives us access to places like this. I unlock the steel gate that bars the stairwell down, and lock it behind us once we're through. We have to bend almost double to fit, as these ceilings were not designed with a seven foot Seeker in mind. Twice I hear Jax mutter a curse behind me as he bumps his head on something, and I have to bite back a laugh. I might be having a hard time, but the poor boy must find it almost unbearable. 

It isn’t long before we reach the bottom of the steps, and I straighten gratefully, in what appears to be a storeroom for one of the restaurants or inns above us. The walls are lined with sacks, crates, and barrels filled with various foodstuffs, all neatly organized and clearly labeled. 

I sniff the air, catching the rotten-meat stink of our prey almost at once. I hear Jax doing the same a moment later, and I nod my approval when he points down a nearby passage.

"Over that way, I think," he says, and grins when he sees me nod. We draw our paired ton-filar, heavy long-bladed fighting daggers with brass knuckles built into the grip, and a short four inch spike at the other end. They’re vicious weapons, specifically made for close in fighting, and designed to give us as many ways to hurt an enemy as possible with a single implement.

Most Seeker gear and weaponry is designed this way. It gives us an edge. And believe you me, when you're fighting the kinds of beasties we do, it always comes in handy. 

We move off in the direction of the scent, careful to keep our blades up before us. The passageway is narrow, so Jax leads the way, and I follow closely, walking backwards to make sure nothing tries to sneak up on us.

We continue down the tunnel, following our noses, until it opens up again into another wide room. The smell is horrendous, and I hear Jax gag a little. 

"Breathe through your mouth," I advise him. "It helps."

I scan the room, taking everything in all at once. Trash, rotting food, and less identifiable detritus litter the floor, and the far corner of the room is buried under a mass of reeking filth that rises to the ceiling. I curse myself for not thinking. As soon as they hear my voice, shades come pouring out of the nest, chittering angrily, eager for a meal.

Shades aren't big, about the size of a cat, and aren’t especially threatening. They look like a hairless rat with an odd, bird-like head. They're not even hard to kill. A good solid kick from a normal human is enough to put an end to one. 

The problem is, there's never just one. 

They breed fast, in clutches of seven or eight, every three weeks. They carry disease, and spread rot wherever they go. Nobody knows how they came to be, but we know that dark magic spawned them, because all our monster hunting tricks work just fine. 

"Grenades!” I snap, following my own advice, withdrawing one from the belt pouch I keep them in. 

Grenades are expensive kit, but absolutely priceless when dealing with swarms of creatures like shades. A small sphere packed with gunpowder, enclosed within an outer sphere of cold iron plated with silver, and the space between the two filled with a mixture of rock salt and holy water. 

We light them with a flick of the thumb against the special alchemical fuse, and then toss them into the middle of the pack. They detonate with a surprising level of force for such small weapons, shaking some dirt loose from the ceiling. Between the explosion, holy water, and rock salt, dozens of the little beasts vanish into puffs of dirty smoke. Dozens more are killed as shrapnel scythes into the massed bodies.

The remainder of the pack, their numbers thinned by the grenades, rush us. Jax and I spin around each other, years of training giving us the skill to fight in such a tight space against a swarm of enemies. I skewer a pair on my ton-filar, turn, and catch another mid-air in the chest with one of the pommel spikes. Jax ducks around me and punches down the two that are trying to leap on me from behind, and boots another in the face when it tries to bite at him. It careens back into its fellows and takes them down in a tangle.

With a chattering shriek that makes us both wince, the queen and her nest guard emerge. 

Easily three times the size of their smaller fellows, the nest guard are huge, slavering beasts with glittering red eyes, long, sharp beak-like mouths, and wicked claws. The queen is even bigger and nastier, her belly swollen with her current clutch. 

"Blast her!" Jax calls, and I nod, quietly impressed. We whirl with skill and speed that no human could hope to match, as we trade blades for the coach guns, safely secured across our backs. Jax's is the typical, blunt-nosed, over-under variant favored by most Seekers. 

But mine…

Mine is a work of art. It was a gift, made for me by the master weapon-alchemist Argius Cratona of Wavedancer, after I rescued his daughter from a lich during my apprenticeship. It has six barrels, twice the length of a standard coach gun, arranged in a circle around a single larger barrel at the center. The steel barrels are polished to a mirror shine, and ornate, curling scrollwork is etched into each one. The solid cherrywood grip and stock is chased with brass and burnished to a deep, warm glow. The gun's name, Sophia, is inscribed on a small brass plate embedded in the stock.

It has three triggers. The first two are tied to three of the six outer barrels each, so that a single trigger pull fires three bursts of cold iron and silver shot at once. 

The third trigger goes to the center barrel, which fires a specially made bullet created by Cratona. Called a Decimator Round, it’s a solid slug of cold iron coated in silver, and infused with powerful alchemical compounds that detonate once inside a target. Every month he sends me a box with thirty of the hefty, hand-sized shells, along with notes from him and his daughter. I’ve kept a steady correspondence with them both over the years, and never once in all my time as a Seeker has Sophia failed to kill the monster it was aimed at.  

But I digress. 

We fire together, then fire again, the booming report of our guns thunderously loud in the enclosed cellar, filling the far side of the room with a blizzard of shot that tears the queen and her guards to bloody shreds. Jax and I deftly snap open the breeches of our guns, ejecting the spent casings and replacing them with fresh, though I take a moment longer due to the extra barrels.

Silence descends for several long minutes as we wait to see if any more shades come out of the darkness, but either we had killed them all, or the remaining few were smart enough to scatter.

"I think we're done here," I decide at last, holstering Sophia, and Jax follows my example. I wave for him to follow, and head back the way we had come. "You did good work back there, Jax, very well done. I'm impressed."

Jax ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. "Thank you, sir, but I only did what I thought was best."

"Which is exactly what you should do," I tell him firmly, with a smile. "You acted as a Seeker should, and I'm proud of you. You have solid battle instincts, and you don't have any lack in terms of skill. You've learned everything I've taught you so far, and learned it well. You do me credit as your mentor, and yourself as a Seeker."

Jax is left speechless. I stifle a small twinge of guilt. Perhaps I’ve been a bit sparse with praise up until now. Well, that can be fixed easily enough. 

"Come on, lad," I say, ducking low to head back up the stairs. "Let's go get something to eat. I would say we've earned our supper tonight."

[stabbyapologist]

A Dog and a Cat

Part 14

Danica spent the rest of her solitary confinement in a deep sleep. Three days. Aside from going to the bathroom and a shower, that was the detox method of methamphetamine. Her body didn't take as hard to heroin; she was an addict that was wired with a hardcore attraction to stimulants, despite all the negative consequences that followed it. She had been doing this since she was eight; she knew the routine, of what would come—But logic stated that addicts recovered to return as functioning members of a society of normies.

Arkham Asylum was a different playing field with a garden-variety of psychopaths. Different people, different rules. Different socially acceptable habits and vices. Many of them were comfortable with torture and murder; so when Danica returned to general population, she was greeted with positivity and acceptance. She could wear her new line of murders in the asylum as a badge of honor, gaining infamy amongst her playmates. The comparison between her demeanors while dry or high were recognizable by her peers; and she was well-liked whether sober or fucking crazy.

Jerome's liking of her didn't decease when she was sober. He knew what she was capable of. Unlike the normies, he was fond of both her Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde—which is what they referred to her states of mind, albeit with respect.

She sat in the lobby, musing with Aaron about the ability to kill a family with his bare hands—a feat that he achieved with his own family.

Danica laughed as Aaron described a personal event of a particular homicide that went cold. *How amusing*.

Jerome sat down beside her and landed a kiss on her cheek politely. Danica grinned.

He was right. When she had followed his lead, and just let go—she felt as if this was her home. The need to leave had ebbed away, not so destructive as before.

It was more or less like sitting down with family at a dinner.

"Darling," Danica greeted him.

"Gorgeous," he returned.

In Arkham, it was not uncommon for inmates to pair off. It was necessary to mark territory to avoid confusion of what was on the market and was better off left alone. Danica grew accustomed to him sitting beside her, either with one of his hands on her thigh under the table or an arm around the back of her chair.

"Honey," Danica turned to Jerome, "have you ever killed with your bare hands before?"

"Uh, no," Jerome answered. "I have not. An axe, I can tell you, is very handy to keep around. A knife...potato peeler." He thought a second more. "A key."

"*A key*?" Danica remarked with a grin.

"Yeah," he affirmed. "You hold it like this—" he mimicked holding brass knuckles "—hold it like that with a key between your fingers and..."

"Does that work?" Danica said, intrigued.

Jerome shrugged,

"Well, when I obtain an officer's key, I'll pick a test subject and see if that actually works."

He and Danica exchanged glances and chuckled.

"I'll do it, though," he added delightfully serious. "Now I'm really curious."

Danica gestured to one of the guards.

"I recommend him."

"Whyyy?" Jerome drawled, smirking.

Give him a reason.

Danica's grin became devious.

"Newbie ."

"Ooh, the help," Jerome squealed with excitement. "But you know what, I think this could be a lot of fun."

Sionis sat across from them, having overheard their conversation. He glanced at Danica with a keen eye.

"I need a favor," he said.

Danica raised an eyebrow.

"You?" She exclaimed. "You need a favor from me?"

"Yes, actually; that guard you're thinking about making miserable. I'd like you to leave him be."

Before Danica could speak, Jerome interjected,

"Well, doesn't sound very fun at all."

Sionis looked at him.

"He's a man on the inside."

"A mole?" Danica asked.

"No, " Sionis clarified, "not like that. He's one of us."

"I highly doubt that," Jerome sighed, glancing at the nervous number standing by the door. "He looks like he'll fall over if you poked him too hard..." He made a small chuckle.

Danica assumed he had a few ideas with what to poke him with, most likely all of them resulting in a blood bath.

"I can't guarantee anything," Danica said smoothly to Sionis. When he gave her a look, she kissed her teeth, and replied, "I can guarantee that I won't do anything; but you do see where we are, right?" She gestured to the community. "Maybe you should talk to them.

Sionis resolved that she was right, stood to his feet, and strode away. Jerome watched his back for a good minute. He tapped his fingers on the back of Danica's chair thoughtfully. She glanced at him.

"I'd hate to upset my friend," Jerome said sarcastically. "But perhaps I'm right."

"Right about what?" Danica asked.

"What's the fun in it if the old boy is just gonna keel over?" He glanced at the guard again. "Guess we'll have to wait for the new flood of employees to make waves."

"I know you're disappointed," Danica turned to him with a smile. "We'll have some fun of our own later tonight. How about that?"

Jerome patted his hands together.

"Oh, goody!"

[sketchyfletch]

The Art of Self-Defence (The Arcana drabble)

Well, this started as a drabble and then ended up about three pages long. Nadia wants MC to learn some practical fighting skills. Nothing explicit, but behind the cut for safety. Technically written for a female MC but there aren’t any gender pronouns in use so you can read it as you wish. Might put this on AO3 later.

“Do you know how to defend yourself?”

The question takes you by surprise, and you glance up to find Nadia studying you. You are sat at right angles from each other, at the end of the long table with the remains of breakfast scattered between you. This has been your seat from the third day in the palace, when Nadia insisted that you move close enough that she can whisper asides into your ear. This places you mere inches from her, and you see the small furrow between her brows that betrays concern. She isn’t merely curious.

“Well, I have magic that can protect me.” You trace your finger on the tabletop, outlining the pattern of the sort of glyph you might lay at your door or across windows to prevent entry from, say, the malignant goat-faced ghost of your lover’s former husband. “I have been taught spells that can attack as well, but I prefer not to use them if I can.”

“No, of course not.” The answer hasn’t soothed Nadia. Her face remains tense. “But should your magic fail you – it has been known to happen, please do not take this for doubt in your abilities – can you use your fists? Do you know how to use a dagger to buy yourself some time?”

You shake your head. “I never had need of it. At least, so far as I can remember.” Who knows what happened before your memories were swallowed by the great expanse of blackness that fills your mind when you try to recall? Nadia appears to follow the same thought.

“Curious, what that time might have taken from us. Perhaps you were quite handy with a weapon. Or a champion pugilist.” A small smile crooks her mouth at last, but it sinks again quickly. “We must remedy this. I will make arrangements immediately; Portia will fetch you once everything is ready.”

And with that, she rises, kisses your cheek, and sweeps gracefully from the room.

You choose to spend the rest of the morning in the library. Julian left behind many scrolls and scribbled notes, and while you don’t think anything will lead directly to him, no further leads have come to light. A distant clock chimes eleven before Portia arrives, smiling in her usual sunny manner. “The Countess requests the pleasure of your presence in the fencing hall,” she announces, looking somewhat amused. You are less amused; while you know Nadia would never hurt you, the thought of doing anything with swords makes you uncomfortable. You know the pointy end from the grip, and that’s it.

You’re given no time to protest. Portia can be as forceful as her mistress in her own way, and you’re propelled out of the library and along the hallway before being turned into a room you haven’t entered yet. Wood lines the floor and one wall; overhead, rich golden carvings adorn the ceiling, pictures of battles and myths that even you remember reading of. Another wall is floor to ceiling windows facing out over a good portion of Vesuvia, and the sunlight pours through it. In the center of the room, hair glowing richly, is Nadia.

She has changed into the same boots and breeches she wore for riding, but her shirt is a simpler, open-necked one, tucked into the high waist and with sleeves that billow before pulling tight around her forearms. Her hair is back in the plait that you ran through your fingers on the way back from Vlastomil’s estate. She is as beautiful and immaculate as ever, but she looks ready to fight.

“My magician.” She smiles. She is unarmed; a table lined with weapons rests against the wall. Nervousness curls through your gut as you take in brass knuckles, stiletto knives, a brace of pistols, and paired rapiers, as well as others that just appear to be various forms of stabbing implement. Nadia closes the space between you and cups your face between her hands. “I swear I will bring you no harm. I believe that regular lessons will be required, but for now, I simply wish to see what you can do to begin with. Are you amenable?”

You nod. There is more to this than satisfying curiosity, and behind Nadia’s reassuring looks are fresh lines of tension. More than one person might take an objection to the Countess of Vesuvia consorting with a common-born magician. They might even attempt to disrupt it. Nadia, as ever, wishes to protect you. And while you can protect her now, anything else that might help…so much the better. You start towards the table, and she shakes her head.

“Bare hands, first. Come at me.”

You don’t want to attack her. Not that you don’t think she couldn’t handle it, but the thought of raising a fist to her is sickening. But Nadia stands ready, and this is for her piece of mind, so you take a stance that you think might be all right and run at her.

Then you’re on the floor. Nadia’s hands are on your shoulders and you’re on your back. “How did you do that?”

Nadia pinks a little at the awe in your voice. “Well, my sisters may have treated me like a baby, but I took some matters into my own hands. I felt that I should be able to defend myself.” She’s still on her feet. “I side-stepped you and dug my heel into the back of your knee. Normally it would be more painful and I wouldn’t guide you to the floor, but I don’t exactly relish hurting you.”

Her mouth draws level with your ear. “Not unless you explicitly request it, anyway.”

Oh, that does not help. She knows it too, and she chuckles a little before helping you up and demonstrating again what she did so you can get it. The next few attempts go better; Nadia has more training than you, and is faster, but is reluctant to risk causing actual harm. You manage to grapple with her for a few moments, strength to strength, Nadia’s arms coiling with yours. She wins when she slides your foot out with hers, as slick as a dancer, and tumbles you back onto the floor; but this time you don’t let the fight be over. You roll over your shoulder and regain your feet. The look of comingled surprise and pleasure on Nadia’s face makes you grin like an idiot.

“Very good! You are learning. Now I will come at you.”

Nadia bears down on you like lightning on a hillside, and you have to move without even thinking to block the blows she aims for your face, ribs, stomach; glancing blows keep sliding past your guard and you’re giving up space, backing up along the room. Then you start to notice a pattern and suddenly it’s easier. You even get her to move back a little. Then some more, and some more. Nadia is surrendering ground and you don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re almost at the opposite end of the room. In amongst the blows she’s smiling at you with a wild, fierce expression you’ve never seen on her face before, and you both drag in air like you’re drowning. Small curls of hair slip free from the hard knot of Nadia’s plait and cling to the sweat lining her face; her eyes glow with the exertion of the fight. If you get her back against the wall, you win. You move forward to close the distance –

She grabs your arms and spins you, slamming you hard against the woodwork. In a continuation of the same movement, she pulls a small dagger from her boot and presses it to your throat; a dirty trick, for a bare-handed fight. You start to make a playful accusation of cheating, but then you catch the look in Nadia’s eyes and your own lungs pull tight. The prick of cold metal at your throat is a stark counterpoint to your own warmth and that of Nadia’s body pressed hard against yours. To expose your throat to the knife, Nadia has pulled your hair back.

For a long moment you stare at each other. Nadia’s eyes are those of the lioness, contemplating her next meal.

Steel clatters dully against the floor as the knife is cast aside and Nadia seizes you, the hand not in your head winding tight around your waist, and kisses you more deeply and harder than you could have thought possible. You return it immediately, consuming more of this wild, gorgeous woman with every second, and she growls – not moans but growls – in response.

When she drags you down this time, you don’t even try to rise.

When sense returns, you are draped across her on the floor. Most of your and her clothing is scattered every which way; some of it is torn. Your heart is still hammering but is finally beginning to slow, and your breaths start to ease from short, hard gasps. Your hair clings damply to the nape of your neck. Nadia smiles lazily, but affectionately, one finger tracing over the marks she’s left on your neck.

“I will confess.” Her voice is a low purr. “This was not actually my intention when I arranged for us to spar.”

“No?” You can’t resist teasing her. “This wasn’t just a plot to get me hot and flustered and unable to resist your whims?”

“There was not much resisting that I detected.” Even within the afterglow, Nadia is able to make you blush again. You did not want to resist, at all, and you made that almost embarrassingly obvious at points. You change the subject.

“What was the dagger about?”

Now she blushes. “I was going to use it as a demonstration of why it is best not to underestimate an opponent, or assume you have the upper hand. It did not work as planned.”

“I think it worked very well.” You initiate the kiss this time, a slow, tender echo of the ones that came before. “And I should have known better than to try and push you against the wall.”

“I was quite impressed,” she admits. “I believe you may well have had some training in the past after all. You were pushing my capacity to fend you off.”

You lapse into silence for a moment. What were you before? Asra’s apprentice, but obviously more than that. Could you have been a fighter?

It’s hard to stay focused on this chain of thought for long when Nadia wraps one leg around yours, and places a light kiss on your nose as her fingertips run down your stomach. You giggle, a little, and her eyes light with mirth. It is no secret by now that you’re ticklish. She doesn’t prolong the torture, though, and curls some of your hair around her finger. “I am reassured that you clearly know something of how to take care of yourself. Outside of your obvious skills with magic, I mean. But we should do some actual training at some point, so you are versed in self-defence in as many ways as possible.”

“Will you be my teacher?”

“Of course.” Nadia considers. “But perhaps we should have somebody else in here with us on occasion, to ensure we stay on track.”

That gives you pause. “Wait, when did Portia leave?” You had completely forgotten she even accompanied you into the room.

Nadia’s eyes widen, and she looks towards the door, before the corners of her mouth curl and she presses her head against your shoulder, starting to laugh. “I forgot to dismiss her. She must have…excused herself.”

You let your head flop against the floor, laughing as well. It’s easy to see the funny side when Nadia is pressed so close to you, her giggles shaking your body as well. “Oh, gods. She’s never going to let me forget about this.”

[unchartedterritoria]

Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 9

In case you don’t want to read it here, it can also be found on A03:

Dangerous Chapter 9 A03 Link

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8

Thanks to everyone that has read it so far! Also, comments and feedback are always appreciated. If you wish to be tagged for new chapters, let me know!

“Turn left here, here!”

Remy had led Faith and Sam back to the SUV and, with his directions, steered them to the other side of downtown Springfield, Illinois, close to the capital building. Remy directed Sam down a quiet one-way side street off the busy main road that held the bulk of the afternoon traffic. After passing a crumbling pay per hour parking lot, they approached a large, pale pink colonial house with green shutters and looking entirely out of place. It had a huge front porch complete with columns and a large community garden in place of what used to be the property's backyard.

“Here we go, pull around the back,” Remy said, pointing between the seats.

“Ok, yeah, ok,” Sam grumbled. He was never good at taking directions from people. Young, old, government authority, civilian, didn't matter, didn't like it one bit.

He pulled the car around the back of the large house, parking in what looked like a small gravel lot that was shared by the house and by the owners of the plots in the community garden.

“Remy whose house is this?” Faith asked, her nose to the window as she looked around. Sam put the car in park next to a pair of dumpsters shared by the two properties as well. Remy jumped out of the car excitedly, slamming the door behind him and rushing up the wheelchair ramp attached to the back door. Faith and Sam sauntered behind him, much like they had done since arriving in Springfield and meeting Remy.

"My god, he's like a puppy!" Faith exclaimed to Sam, leaning in close to him in the hopes that Remy wouldn't hear and be offended at her observation. Sam raised the corner of his mouth in a goofy, half grin.

"He's just a kid. You think this is bad; you shoulda seen him at 13 when he was just a pipsqueak."

Faith knitted her brows together in confusion. “Since when is 13 a pipsqueak?” She inquired.

“Since I hit puberty and became taller than the rest of the 13-year-olds in the world,” He said coolly.

“You're an ass,” She said half laughing.

“You're not just figuring that out, are ya sweetheart?”

They walked toward the back of the house where Remy waited impatiently. He stuck a hand into the pouch of his hoodie and pulled out a red gummy worm. He popped the end into his mouth, peering through side windows and staking out the immediate area around them.

"Remy, seriously, where the hell are we?" A tired note was creeping into Faith's voice as she asked again.

“This is the Edwards Place. Elizabeth went and married into this big powerful family. All her in-laws were like, Illinois big shots. Her father-in-law was one of the first Governors and Congressmen. He was Governor when it was still a freakin' territory. Her husband was attorney general for the state, and her brother-in-law’s were all lawyers or something impressive like that. I still think it's funny that Elizabeth went and married into this crazy powerful family probably thinking, 'Oh I'm so great, look at me, I married the Attorney General.' and then her sister comes along and is like, 'Watch this bitch,' and goes and marries the president,” Remy cackled wildly, the rest of his gummy worm now clamped between his teeth.

“Jesus kid,” Sam said with a snarky laugh.

“Ok, cause all these famous Sand suckers lived here, they went and turned the house into like, a museum. Before they did that though, we had a diary from Mary Todd Edwards in our inventory. Then, once they opened up, the Edwards family proved provenance so they took possession of it and it got moved over here,” Remy explained.

“So, let us in then,” Faith said.

“I can't. If it’s a historical state building, I got keys. This place is privately owned by some non-profit. That’s where Sam comes in,” Remy said, turning towards him as another gummy worm magically appeared out of his hoodie and into his mouth.

“Get us in? C'mon Remy, I thought you had a challenge for me!” Sam boasted. He backed away from the house and examined the outer structure, mentally trying to create a path from the ground to a window on the top floor that looked to be open a crack. He took out his coin and flipped it around in his palm, the Sam Drake equivalent of clicking a clicky pen over and over to help him think. Faith and Remy watched Sam curiously.

“They don't have a security system or nothin.”

"Yeah ok," Sam replied, still staring at the outside. His coin was going end over end over his knuckles. He stalked to the dumpster and grabbed it by the edge, hoping to move it closer to the building.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“You just have to pick the lock, you don't have to go all parkour dude,” Remy said, glancing up the side of the building.

“It's ok, all I have to do is climb on top of the dumpster, jump over to the garage roof, make my way across those two window ledges, -” He explained until Faith's growing laughter caused him to stop.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Oh my god. You can't pick a lock, can you?” Faith asked, barely getting the question out before bursting out laughing again. Sam slipped his coin back in his pocket and crossed his arms in front of himself defensively, his dark green jacket pulled hard against his shoulders.

"Look, -" Sam started to explain, only to be interrupted again by Faith, who found this little tidbit downright hysterical.

“No way man, really?” Remy questioned, unable to comprehend this thought. Faith put a hand on Remy's shoulder, leaning her head against him for support during her fit of giggles.

"Alright, so I can't pick a lock. It's never stopped me. I still get in, and I always get what I came for. Always.” He said with a smug look on his face. Faith regained her composure, wiping away the wet trails the tears from her laughter with the sleeve of her jacket. She turned and headed back towards the rear door of the house, her hand rooting in the inner pocket of her coat. She pulled a small, soft leather case from her jacket. Adjusting the back of her jeans, she squatted down in front of the door, her eye line level with that of the brass doorknob. Sam and Remy walked towards the door, curious about what exactly Faith was doing. Faith slipped two slim tools out of the lock pick kit and slid each one into the keyhole on the doorknob slowly. Remy watched her in a giddy amazement; he had never seen a lock actually picked before, there wasn't much use for breaking and entering in the field of academia. Sam crouched down next to Faith who was still intently working on the lock, gently sliding and turning the tools by the resistance she felt.

“You can pick locks?” He asked in a quiet voice, trying to keep his surprise tone to a minimum.

“A handy byproduct of a misspent youth,” Faith said, wiggling the bottom metal arm.

“You've been holding out on me. Makes me wonder what else you know how to do,” he questioned suggestively. Faith felt the bottom tool slip into place and turned them both at the same time. The door clicked as the lock disengaged.

"Wait 'til you see me with cherry stems," She whispered to him with a wink before standing up. Sam bit his bottom lip as a thousand pictures flashed in his brain, most of them downright dirty as sin. He ran a hand through his hair as he stood up as if it would help dissipate some of the thoughts in his head. Faith quietly turned the doorknob and opened it a crack.

"No one should be here, right?" She said softly. He shook his head no. Faith stood up and opened the door the rest of the way slowly, stowing her tools back inside her jacket. Stepping inside, she was still cautious of making too much noise. Sam followed close behind her with Remy on his heels. They entered what looked like at one point was a small mud room that looked to now be used as an employee entrance. Sam looked around the corner and up the back stairs towards the second floor.

“You know where the book is Remy?” Sam asked.

“Probably like a bedroom on the second floor in one of the displays.”

“Ok, you stay here. Keep a look out for anything.”

"What? Oh, come on dude!" Remy whined angrily, his face utterly crestfallen.

“Just stay here, alright?” Sam said, not really in the mood to embrace the teenager whiny attitude, even if it was coming from Remy.

“Fine...douche,” He resigned sullenly, leaning against the hardwood frame of the doorway to the rest of the house.

Faith and Sam made their way upstairs, still taking care not to make too much noise. The stairway was lined with detailed painted portraits in dark wood frames of what Faith was sure was different generations of Edwards men. The top floor was all hardwood, crown molding, and flowered wallpaper. Things like ornate chairs and side tables were cordoned off by velvet ropes, as well as some of the bedrooms along the hallway that ran the whole length of the house. Sam ran a hand over a cherry table with grapevines carved into its sturdy legs.

"Hm, bet this would be worth a penny or two," His rough hand over the vines and shook a leg for good measure to check for stability.

“Hey! Focus, not what we came for!” Faith hissed at him.

“I know, I know, but it'd make a great parting gift,” He said, already picturing its lot number at an auction.

Faith let out a sigh of disgust. Bastard, money hungry bastard! And I flirted with him downstairs! What the hell is wrong with me, I should get my ass examined. Cause that's where my head is, square up my own ass! Faith thought as frustration with herself built within her head. Nope, no more flirting. No matter how good he smells. Eyes on the prize, find the book. She continued left down the hallway towards a large wardrobe at the end of the hall, open and displaying different pieces of period clothing. She stopped in front of the doorway to her right. Inside was a bedroom that looked straight out of the 1800's. Desk, sitting chair, bed, all look like they belonged there, despite the 'NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY PERMITTED' signs.

"Sam," Faith called for him. He walked down the hallway towards her, his heavy boots thumping against the runners atop the hardwood floor. Coming up behind her, he followed her into the room. She made a beeline for the roll top desk positioned in the corner of the bedroom, some part of her knowing what they were seeking would be there. The diary sat next to its own little placard, telling the interested masses what it was and who it belonged to. This was it.

Faith stood motionless, staring at the diary, frozen in place while a sudden internal conflict began to rage inside her head. If I take this, I'm a thief; I'm a criminal. I know I already broke in, but this seems so much worse! This is outright theft!

“Hey,” Sam said, putting his large, strong hand on her shoulder, snapping Faith back to the moment at hand.

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just, I'm not a person that does illegal things.”

“Says the woman with the lock picks,” He said, his head tilted and hazel eyes staring at her accusingly.

“That was a long time ago, that was breaking into places for shits and giggles, this is theft!” Her voice whispered as if she was cursing in church.

“Well, it's a good thing I'm a thief then,” Sam said back in the same hushed mocking tone while he reached past her and grabbed the diary from atop the desk. Faith watched as he closed the book and stowed it in the back waistband of his jeans and straightened his jacket over it, hiding it from view. With that quick move, it was as if the world turned from black and white to bright neon and everything was suddenly real. No more talking about it, no more just researching for kicks, no more 'just a simple road trip,' this was happening, and despite her momentary question of morality, it made her feel fucking fantastic and more alive than she had felt since her mother had died.

Sam headed back down the hallway, Faith on his heels. She felt exhilarated, but she was still anxious to get the hell out of there and not get caught. Remy looked up the stairway from the main floor where he had stayed put, despite his protests.

“Did ya get it?” He asked excitedly.

"Got it, let's go," Sam answered as he strode toward the door, ushering Remy and Faith out first. He closed the door, locked it behind him and stalked towards the car, trying not to draw any attention to the three of them if there was anyone around. As Sam unlocked the car, he pulled the diary from the back of his pants. He might not have the same anal need to preserve artifacts like Nathan did, but he figured sitting on it while he drove would not only be a bad idea but would be very uncomfortable. Sam handed the diary off to Remy's outstretched hands, sure that was the best place for it. Sam turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Almost euphoric at this point, Faith looked out her window, darting her eyes in every direction, anxious to make sure nothing looked hinky. The sun bright and reflecting off the puddles from the morning's rain, Sam sped out of the parking lot and down the one-way street, running over the cubed gum wrappers as he went by.

Sam skidded to a stop in front of the lobby of the motel chain they decided on to be their base camp for the night while they were in Springfield. Sam shifted the car into park and slid out of the driver's seat.

“Stay here, I'll grab a room,” He said, slamming the car door behind him, causing Faith to give a tiny jump.

"For someone dealing in antiques, he's sure not very gentle," She muttered to herself. She pivoted in her seat towards Remy, who held the diary open in one hand and his phone in the other. A gummy worm as green as his hair hung crooked out the side of his mouth. The flashlight feature from the cell phone lit the diary, giving Remy some extra light as the daylight faded quickly underneath the growing clouds.

“How you doing Remy?” Faith asked.

“Pretty fucking awesome,” He stated very matter of fact. He sucked the rest of the gummy worm into his mouth and smiled at Faith.

"Alright, the entries start in 1875. Mary died in 1882, and the diary looks like it goes til around like, June of the next year. That's when she lived with her sister so we should, hopefully, be able to find something."

After a few minutes, Sam walked out of the lobby with three room keys, handing one each to Remy and Faith as he got in the car. Parking in the far corner of the poorly lit lot, they grabbed their gear and headed towards the last room on the ground floor. Sam was pleased to see the room next to theirs empty as they walked over the cracked sidewalk; That meant more privacy, which was never a bad thing to have too much of. Faith opened the door with her keycard and flicked on the light. It had looked exactly as Sam's had the night she stayed with him, only this one had a couch and an uncomfortable looking high-backed armchair. Remy set the journal on the table and plopped down in one of its chairs, face still glued to the front of his phone. Faith dropped her backpack next to the bed and flung herself back on it with a sigh. She felt as if she hadn't had a decent sleep in days since she had found that damn Bible and the lack of a bed for the last 48 hours was starting to weigh on her eyelids and her back. She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumbs.

“Alright, food should be here in like half an hour,” Remy announced, plopping his phone down on the table. Faith sat up and looked at him, puzzled.

“Didn’t I just see you eat three corn dogs?”

“Yeah.”

Sam’s cell phone vibrated audibly in his jacket pocket. He fished it out quickly, double checking the incoming number. Nathan.

“And didn’t you just eat a bunch of gummy worms?” Faith said, continuing her questioning. She glanced at Sam questioningly. He held up a finger and opened the metal door of the motel and stepped outside.

“I need real food, candy is like, just a food substitute. I’m a growing boy you know,” Remy answered, the last thing Sam heard as he shut the door behind him and pressed green button on his phone.

“Hey little brother,” He said holding the phone up to his ear while he rooted into his jacket pocket for his smokes.

"Hey, Sam. How you making out in Illinois? Any luck?" Nathan asked.

“Remy got us a starting point. We’ll see where we end up.”

“Keep him out of trouble alright? He’s a good kid.”

“C’mon, trouble? Me? Never,” Sam said, exhaling a plume of smoke.

“I’m serious Sam. I heard Jasper still has Arthur Bixby sniffing around for you and Faith so watch yourselves. You remember what he’s like, “Nathan warned him.

“Motherfucker,” Sam muttered to himself.

"Gimme the phone," Sam heard a gruff voice say in the background on Nathan's end of the line. Sam leaned on beige metal railing that ran along the edge of the building, the cold metal biting into his forearms as he held the phone in place with his shoulder. He heard the phone being shuffled between parties. He waited patiently, smoking his cigarette while Nathan and Sully bickered, Sully finally winning with the phrase, ‘Just hand me the goddamn phone!' Sam took one final drag of his cigarette, burning it down to the filter.

“Sam,”

“Victor,” Sam said, grinding the butt of his smoke into the pavement with the heel of his dark gray boot. “Recouping at Nate and Elena’s?”

"Believe me; it's not by choice. How's it going?"

“Alright so far, Remy got us somewhere to start.”

“You heard what Nate said about Bixby?” Sully questioned, a hint of warning in his voice.

“Yeah I heard, I’ll watch my back,” Sam agreed half-heartedly. He still wasn’t convinced that Jasper Nox would have anyone watching them.

“Don’t bullshit a professional bullshitter Sam. You need to watch your back, watch Faith’s back,” Sully urged him.

“Why you got me lookin’ out for this girl, Victor?”

"Cause I asked you to," Sully replied, hoping to shut him down quickly.

“Is she important, I mean, is she your kid or something? Why you got me doing this?”

“Sam, please, just do this one goddamn favor for me without asking any questions, alright?” Sully said as anger and frustration boiled over in him quickly.

“Alright, alright. I got it.”

“How is she?”

“Faith? She’s fine,” Sam answered.

“She’s fine?” Sully repeated accusingly.

“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s good.” Sam assured him.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“Don’t do it.”

“What are you talkin about?” Sam questioned.

"I'm talking about keeping it in your pants Samuel. That's what I'm talking about."

“Awe Jesus Sullivan, gimme a little more credit than that,” Sam said,

“I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Sam said, making sure the sarcasm dripped from every letter.

“Leave this one alone Samuel, it won’t lead anywhere good,” Sully warned him; The words that he had already heard Sully say to him in his head, now hearing them aloud, sent a chill down his spine. What the fuck is up with this girl? He thought to himself.

"Alright, alright, Victor, I got it," Sam acquiesced. Sam looked across the lot, a small red sedan covered in rust puttered into the large parking lot, its sides plastered with magnetic signs of what Sam assumed could only be the local pizza joint.

“Gotta go. I’ll be in touch.”

“Watch yourselves out there.”

"Will do," Sam said, snapping the phone closed. First, it was take care of her; then it was protect her, now it's keep it in my pants? Fuck that; I promised one and two. I didn't make any damn promises about being celibate. You want me to take care of her? I’ll take care of her, my way. The whole Samuel Drake package, full fucking service if the moment presents itself, Sam thought to himself smiling as he dug a small wad of cash out of the front pocket of his jeans.

[ask-beacons-finest]

Information for Team SLAM

Team Name: SLAM Team Sponsor: @stutteringtony School: Shade Academy

Team Member 1: Satomi Sakurai

She hails from the Kingdom of Mistral and is 16 years old. Satomi is a descendant of a proud warrior family that have attended Haven for generations, yet she chose to attend Shade. She stands at 5 feet and 6 inches, weighs 138 pounds, and has a slim body structure with not much muscular structure. She is a human Asian.

  Semblance: She can project her own aura into simple shapes that can withstand 50,000 psi. She is not limited to just one projection; she can make multiple at a time. The drawback is she leaves her own body vulnerable to attacks that her aura would normally be able to withstand.

  Weapon: She doesn’t carry one since she can already use her semblance to make projectiles and shields. She even made a neat hand sword once. She also mostly relies on tai sabaki (using enemy’s momentum against them) to set up for tag team attacks.

  Personality: She leads her team with autonomy during the midst of battle, but that doesn’t always mean her team listens to everything. She will never underestimate any opponent in front of her. She can be cold but it’s only because she wants to prove to her family she made the right choice going to Shade.

  Outfit: For combat, she dons her Shade varsity jacket and school skirt (she couldn’t move as well with armor and it made the family disappointed when she decided to attend Shade). She also has short hair since it got in the way before. It was not a fun day for the Sakurai house. She also wears 3-inch knee high boots which she is scary agile in.

Team Member 2: Landon Winston

Landon was born in Vacuo but raised in Vale when his parents immigrated for a better life for him. He came back to Vacuo when he found out he still had family living there. He’s 16 years old, towers a solid 6 feet 2 inches, weighs 290 pounds, and has a sturdy, well built, muscular body. Landon is also a rhino faunus; no horn, just the raw hid on his back.

  Semblance: His semblance allows his adrenaline to fuel his strength. The more intense a battle is, the stronger he is. He shows to have a lot of fun with it when letting out steam. It should be noted his semblance is more than capable of fueling his semblance. The only downside is it does slow him down should the battle get to the point of him getting angry (hasn’t happened just yet but let’s hope the tournament allows for it).

  Weapon: With his ridiculous strength, Marcus uses brass knuckles he affectionately calls Bread and Butter. Cause they work so well together.

  Personality: When in combat, Landon. Will. Beat. A. Bisch. To the ground. He’s a lot more laid back when he’s not fighting but when he’s in his zone, he goes out to do work. There have been times where he carelessly attacks on his on with no strategy, but he does stick with his team’s strategy should they find themselves at the disadvantage.

  Outfit: Landon wears a white tank and a pair of jeans. He isn’t one for formalities and armor since he is the armor. Last time he wore armor, he just broke out of it midbattle. It was ridiculous; it exploded off him. He also has boots that are as strong as him which allows earth-shaking crater stomps.

Team Member 3: Alan Quils

Alan was born and raised in Vacuo. He met Marcos there and the two have known each other for about ten years. Until he attended Shade, it was the two against the world. He is 17 years old, stands at 5 feet 11 inches, weighs 141 pounds, and has a skinny frame with slightly longer limbs for his height. Alan is half human and half faunus, yet he doesn’t possess any faunus trait.

 Semblance: Alan can stretch his limbs up to 35 feet and his torso up to 16 square feet (been handy before when Marcos needed a parachute). If he stretches any further than that, Alan could severely hurt his body.

 Weapon: Alan carries around two 9 pound balls he grips and slings it at his opponents and sometimes as bolas. He couldn’t come up with a name, so he left it to Marcos. Alan regrets it to this day since they are now known as Dez and Nut. He also just simply stretches his arms out for punches or cartoonish slams.

 Personality: Alan isn’t the most fearless of the group, but he does recognize when the odds could be against them. He sort of acts like a hazard signal for the team, even in their day to day social life. When it does come down to it, Alan is always there for his teammates and will be fearless when needed.

 Outfit: Alan wear a sleeveless dark purple shirt that buttons up but he leaves it open so he can use his semblance. He has rolled up kakis and low top sneakers Marcos got as a gift. That was actually paid for. They’re really nice.

Team Member 4: Marcos Gutiérrez

Marcos, like Alan, was born and raised Vacuo. He came across Alan at a young age when he was orphaned and the two became dependent on each other. His street smarts have helped Alan and himself survive out in the backstreets of the kingdom. They grabbed the attention of the headmaster of Shade Academy and was offered a scholarship there. He is 17 years old, stands at 5 feet 10 inches, weighs 172 pounds, and has a somewhat built structure with some muscle. He is a human Latino.

  Semblance: Marcos can go into a state of heightened awareness, allowing him to perceive the world 8 times slower than normal, and he can move at lightning speeds when in this state. However, it is up to Marcos to recognize when he is in danger and if he remains in that state for too long, he can put a strain on his heart and lungs.

  Weapon: When taking a quick trip to Vale, he took note of the weapon of a familiar blondie and used it as a basis for his weapon, Flash Strike. It wraps around Marcos’ forearms and the back of his calves; it separates into three parts that rotate around its respective limbs thanks to some “borrowed” Atlesian tech. The ammo isn’t powerful but mix that with Marcos’ quick strikes and kicks, and you got a one man cleaner. Both his forearm “revolvers” also contain a grappling hook should Alan not be around.

  Personality: Marcos is care free for the most part. In and out of battle, he often toys around with people. Once Marcos realizes potential danger, he doesn’t immediately go serious, but he does understand the stakes are higher. Usually takes things a bit more serious when Alan is around.

  Outfit: Marcos wears a baseball tee, glove wraps, and shorts all tinted with cobalt blue and grey. He also wears goggle with a blue tint to protect his eyes from the high speeds he travels at. Marcos is also equipped with sturdy high top sneakers he made after burning out dozens of shoes before.

[crossroadsdimension]

I think I’ve hit a good point to end this little thing. It feels like a good place to wrap it up -- especially since it leaves you guys with enough room to imagine the shenanigans that Ford can get up to now. :3

Chapter under the cut for those who are too lazy to click the link!

Chapter 6: Power in voices

After the fifth time that day that Ford’s voice caused the kids to head upstairs and take naps, Stan had had enough.

“Either you’re not talking or we figure out a way to get the music out of your voice before you accidentally cause the whole town to go take a nap!” Stan frowned at Ford.

“Stanley, I--”

“Nuh uh, nope. Not a word out of you, Poindexter.”

Ford looked annoyed at the interruption, but he didn’t try and pick up where he left off as Stan rummaged around in the kitchen before coming back to the table with a notebook and pen.

“This’ll work for now.” Stan fixed his brother with a rather pointed look.

Ford sighed, then picked up the pen and wrote what he’d been trying to say all afternoon. He turned the notebook around so that Stan could read his cursive writing clearly.

“I think this is an unforseen side-effect of Addi releasing her spell. People who have been Taken by magical creatures of one kind or another for any length of time longer than a few minutes usually show some change as a result of it. I would question that Mabel’s recent high addiction to sugar is the result of the gnomes, but you’ve said she’s exhibited that even before what happened at the start of that summer.”

“What does Mabel’s sugar addiction have to do with the gnomes?”

Ford rolled his eyes and wrote in the notebook again. “The Gnome Queen is known to be so sweet inside and out that no predator in the forest can resist going after her. The fact that Mabel consumes a large amount of sugar on a daily basis makes me think that being in the gnome’s presence and being considered their queen for even a short time might have caused it as a side-effect. Will have to ask Dipper if her addiction to sugar has only increased since that summer.”

Ford tapped his written paragraph meaningfully, raising his eyebrows at Stan.

Stan frowned in response. “Well, she’s doing okay. At least she can also eat stuff other than pure sugar. But what about you, though? I mean, every time you talk someone in this house is gonna fall asleep, and I bet the same thing’s gonna happen if you go out and do a lecture or something.”

Ford sighed and propped his head up with one hand. He shrugged. “I’ll have to practice and find a way to separate the power in my voice from my speaking voice so that I don’t cause people to fall asleep when I don’t want them to.”

“Well, yeah, but how are you gonna do that?”

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”

The two men turned sharply at the familiar voice, catching sight of Addi standing in the kitchen doorway in the oversized question mark shirt that Stan had thrown at her two days ago.

Ford moved out of his chair so fast that he knocked it over as Stan pulled out his brass knuckles.

“Assistance?” Stan repeated shortly. “You’ve assisted enough already. First you turned my brother into a goddamned pet and now you’ve--”

“He’s been Touched with magic, that’s all.” Addi huffed. “It’s nothing of my doing; magic is a natural force that does as it likes. And mine seemed to think that you could do with something.”

Ford frowned at that. “I’ve been able to handle myself fine on my own. This isn’t any different.”

Stan started to look a little sleepy, but he shook it off and held up his fists. “Yeah. We don’t need your help.”

“Oh, please, like you can just use writing utensils to talk to each other for the rest of your lives.” Addi frowned. “You need to school your power into your singing voice. I can help with that.”

“And what’s the catch?” Stan snapped back.

“I just want a little company.” Addi shrugged. “It’s boring out at the lake all by myself. Why do you think I was getting pets in the first place?”

Stan and Ford exchanged looks.

“Give us a minute to talk about this.” Stan said to Addi. “Go wait by the lake or something.”

“No. Like I said, it’s lonely there.” Addi raised an eyebrow. “And I just might go after another human again.”

They exchanged looks again.

Ford motioned with his head towards Addi with a look on his face that suggested “we should take it.”

Stan frowned and shook his head; too dangerous.

Ford motioned to his neck, then up towards the floor above them; if they didn’t do something about it then the kids were going to end up going back to bed every few hours and he didn’t want to force them to do that.

Stan’s expression softened at that; then he scowled and sighed irritably. “All right; fine. But don’t pull anything funny on Ford or you’re gonna know how a certain triangle felt when his eye met one of these.” He held up his fist meaningfully.

“I’m not going to ‘do’ anything.” Addi rolled her eyes, but there was a slight spark of something in her eyes that suggested she wasn’t going to toe the line that Stan had put up. “We are going to need to be alone for a few hours. I doubt that you want to fall asleep for three hours straight again.” Addi gave a cheeky grin.

Stan’s scowled at Addi, then turned and walked out of the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get anything’s attention that you don’t want out there.”

“I’m bringing my gun with me,” Ford called after him.

“Yeah, sure. Do that.”

Ford looked back at Addi with a guarded expression as Stan left. Addi simply looked amused.

“Come on, lullaby,” Addi motioned for Ford to follow her out of the house.

“Lullaby?” Ford repeated.

“That’s your magic.” Addi hummed the song that had caused Ford to fall asleep before. “You can set others to sleep for however you wish. An hour, a day...even longer, if you so choose.”

Ford’s hand instantly went to his neck at that. “I...I can?”

“Indeed. Quite handy when trying to make sure that a kraken doesn’t wake as your ship passes over it.” Addi looked amused at the look on Ford’s face. “Or when I want my pets to actually sleep for once. The bags under your eyes are terrible, you know that?”

Ford dropped his hand at that, expression souring. “My sleep patterns are my own business, Adeline.”

“Well, they are now. While you have that singular ability, you can’t be put to sleep yourself. So nothing’s going to be able to sneak up on you and knock you out so easily.”

“...all right, I admit that this ability is useful, but if I’m causing my family to fall asleep every time I speak, that’s not very useful then, is it?”

“Relax. I’ll show you how to use it properly. It’ll simply take some time, that’s all.”

Ford grumbled something under his breath that sounded like something out of a minor key. Addi simply laughed in response.

When they reached the lake, Addi threw the shirt off and waded into the water far enough so that her lower half would shift to a fish tail. Ford made it a point to avert his gaze -- now that the enchantment wasn’t in the way, he felt that offering her privacy during her transformation from the waist down was a better idea than just outright staring.

She’s helping you control the power she accidentally gifted you with; it would be wise not to get on her nerves.

Ford didn’t want to know what would happen if he angered a siren.

“You’re going to need to loosen up your voice first,” Addi called from the lake. “I assume you know how to do that much and have a few exercises in mind?”

Ford blinked at the statement and looked back over at Addi. “Ah...no, not really. I never really had the time for it.”

Addi looked annoyed. “Well, in that case, we’ll be working on that first. You sound like a bass, so transpose what you can and follow my lead.”

Ford swallowed nervously and nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s begin.”

Time Break

“Wait.” Wendy looked like she was starting to have a headache. “So, you’re telling me that the sea witch let Ford go last night, and he’s going back to get voice lessons?”

“It’s either that, or he has to play the part of a mute for the rest of his life,” Stan replied. “Which, knowing Ford...he’s not gonna want to do that.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I guess he knows a whole new meaning to ‘talking people to sleep’ now.” Wendy’s mouth quirked up into a smile for a moment before she sobered. “So, what’s gonna happen now about that siren?”

“Well, Addi is -- as far as I know -- planning on sticking around at the lake. Ford said all she really wanted was company an’ she did the song thing to keep people there.” Stan frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not sure if I believe that, but she’s the only person around here who knows what’s going on with Ford’s voice an’ how to help him deal with it. So we’ll just have to deal with that until Ford can control it himself and he won’t have to take lessons from her.”

“I hope that happens soon, because I think he’d rather stay away from the person who tried to basically turn him into a dog.”

“Ehhh.”

Wendy frowned. “What.”

“You didn’t see what happened when we were on our boat. Before the sea witch incident, he’d practically throw himself off the ship every time we encountered anything remotely dangerous. I swear, it’s like his danger sense only encourages his curiosity. So if he’s being offered a chance to learn about sirens from the sea witch….” Stan trailed off.

The redhead groaned when she got the rest of the message. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. I bet if there was some weird, reality-warping monster out there, he would’a been torn between studying the thing and falling into madness or beating the heck out of it. We’re lucky we didn’t.”

Wendy looked like she wanted to hit her head against the counter repeatedly. “It must’ve been a miracle that he survived as long as he did.”

Stan snorted. “Y’know kid, sometimes I wonder that too.”

As if on cue, Ford came barrelling into the gift shop with an excited look on his face. He was soaked to the bone, but the light in his eyes clearly said he still had most of his sanity -- although even that sanity was a bit questionable.

“Dipper!” Ford called. “The Gobblewonker is real!”

Dipper scrambled into the room from the living room. “It what?! But I thought that McGucket--”

“He had to get his designs from somewhere, didn’t he? Addi’s found it and let me catch a glimpse -- I need to sketch this out! Come on!” Ford disappeared behind the vending machine, Dipper on his heels.

“Hey, wait for me! I wanna see it too!” Mabel quickly entered the gift shop and followed after them.

Stan and Wendy exchanged knowing, deadpan looks.

“Well, at least the good thing about all this is that Ford didn’t sound like he was gonna be putting anybody to sleep for a while,” Stan commented dryly.

Wendy snorted in amused agreement.

[charonaraccoon]

Hi dear! 2., 3., 4., 8. and 10. for the BoB ask?? (Sorry but I really couldn't choose XD)

2. One man from Easy to be the one who hates you?

Sobel? He’s part of easy, right? So I’d say him and I’d probably get into some arguments with David about literature, but we’d be pals afterwards :D

 3. Dike orders a patrol, you and 4 others. Who’s on your team?

We’d need a proper officer, so Speirs, Luz for entertainment reasons, Joe, because someone has to keep an eye on him and Toye for his level of sass and the brass knuckles would come in handy, too.

4. If you had to choose one episode to be a part of, which one would it be?

As horrible as it may sound, I’d say Why we fight, because I could translate and help out and be of general aid during that awful time.

8. Besides your fav, you can only keep in touch with one of the guys after the war, who do you write?

The only clever response to that is Richard Winters. He stayed in contact with everyone, so I could pretty easily get all the information I needed :DD

10. If you were in Easy what would your job be? (Radioman, Medic, Rifleman, Mortarman, machine gunner etc)

I am actually pretty good at nursing people and keeping a certain kind of positivity, when things go downhill, so I’d probably say I could be a medic, but… no one knows how bad it would get during a really heavy bombardment, so I’d rather be a simple soldier.  

 *_*_*_*_*_*

Thank you so much, my dear, this was actually very entertaining! :D And thank you for your patience, this took me a while^^ <3 

[deztinywarriors]

The Linked Charms - Episode 35 (Multi Liverpool players)

[boshawbearclaw]

Deputy questions

1:Lucas O'Connor, 24

2: he grew up as norse pagan, his father was from Scandinavia and his mother was from Ireland.

3: he joined the US marshals simply because he wanted to know inside information on the government.

4: he usually eats whatever he hunts

i.e elk, buck, any kind of fish, people....*cough* ignore that last part....but if hes in a public place and he sees vending machines thats where he'll go.

5: moonshine, irish whiskey and PBR.

6: as long as it has a good beat and lyric he'll listen to it but his most favorite is hair bands from the 80s and oldie music from the 40s and 50s,,,,and disco(he totally blames Sharky for that one).

7:where ever he can he'll listen to music, especially in the car, sometimes when hes angry he'll listen to GWAR and Ramms+ein at ear drum busting volume, he always has his headphones handy.

8: his dad calls him Luca, and his mom calls him Lucky, Sharky calls him Bubba but everyone else just calls him dep or rook tbh it really depends if they know his name of if theyre friends.

9: this ones a bit obvious aint it? Its Sharky :)

10: peaches, tbh its usually because shes quite and also cause she likes eatin peggies too ;).

11: his favorite vehicle(s) is Sharkys jeep with the machine gun on the back and his 1973 Pygmalion SSR with a little vaas wahine doll on the dash.

12: his spiked bat he calls 'Sasha',, his pink brass knuckles,, AK-MS 'the whitetailer',, 44.magnum steel & ivory,, SPAS-12 flameout,, MBP.50 gold and steel with silencer and extended mag and improved scope.

13: the black flamebearers outfit with larrys pants and shoes, when hes at boshaw manor just shootin the shit he'll usually just wearing pink floyd boxers and nothing else, except his Norse fern flower and wolf paw pendents.

14: if hes being honest, hes completely moonstruck over Sharky, but hes too scared to actually say anything even though when they were both hammered at the testicle festival Lucas carried Sharky along with him to somewhere quiet and made out with him for a few hours, there aint a thing Sharky has that Lucas didnt touch that night ;).

15: almost every clutch nixon race he did, he won, except the one when hes in a plane he doesnt like those ones much.

16: he absolutely adores hunting and fishing, its something he and his dad used to do during the week if his dad wasnt working.

17: he loves whitetail mountains alot because of how peaceful it is but there is also alot of hunting grounds, but he also loves henbane river because thats where he and sharky roast some angels.

18: he doesn't fear edens gate in the slightest, although hes starting believe everything joseph is saying because hes seeing the logic in his words((hes a paranoid schizophrenic like me btw)).

19: he wasnt tempted by the bliss at all because he hated the smell of the flowers and the way the bliss made him feel things that were all wrong, whenever he drives or walks past bliss fields he often stops and "discreetly" Sniffs sharky so the scent of fire, cigarettes, and just sharky fills his senses instead of the flowers.

20: his reaction to the resist ending was very odd, considering that there was no cussing, no anger no nothing, just a very very blank and vacant stare. About a day or so later lucas started to call upon any god or goddess that would help him and try to get answers to whatever the fuck happened.