#very very minimal b/w blood

[orengejoshi]

"you need my blood for your experiments? get it yourself."

he's trying. he's really trying. and failing miserably.

[phis-corner]

TOGA HIMIKO!!!

You keep having the best profile pics phi.

LASDJGLDKSJF THANK YOU I TRY

(basically, my blog header & pfp reflect whatever fandom i'm currently hyperfixating on and which character i love the most and himiko deserves more love i think <3)

[chil2de]

hi yes the benimaru fic i mentioned earlier— fire force fandom will you let me in please??🥺🥺 i don’t know what i’m dealing with fanbase wise mmfldjfj sometimes it feels like i’m head over heels for bens by myself so... i’ll drop this here for now.. see how it goes and i’ll continue w/ a second part if ff isn’t dead

nsfw themes throughout, so please read my disclaimer if you’re new. enjoy :)

w.c: 1.7k, characters: 9.6k (incl spaces)

-

there’s a certain sluggish quality that plagues your movements. it’s not fatigue or incompetence. or so benimaru would hope.

his mix matched gaze glosses over your unnecessary movements. that extra exhale you hiss, the additional bat of your eyelashes and the excessive perspiration that drips onto the earth below.

“stop.” he commands, tone low and stern as it pierces through the open air.

“huh? captain shinmon, i’m fine. we can keep going.” you huff through laboured breaths, pausing to gasp and drink in the plentiful oxygen around you.

“it’s one thing if you’re overworking your muscles. it’s another if you’re running a fever. go inside.”

“b-but captain-“

benimaru shoots you a dead stare, keeping his statement rooted deep where he stands.

judging by the bruises that adorn your knees, you know better than to disobey the captain.

“waka! have you seen (l/n)?” konro lingers in the doorframe of the main communal area, gaze scanning for one of his colleagues.

“she’s in her room. why?”

“her room? she has a few errands to run. is she feeling okay?”

“she’s running a fever.” benimaru exhales, shifting to get up from the table. he lightly scratches the back of his neck, adorning that usual aloof facial expression.

“in the middle of summer? how’d that happen?” konro chuckles through a small glimpse of bewilderment. of course he’d be concerned for one of his best recruits.

“hell if i know. what do we need? i’ll head out.”

if anything, benimaru is probably the sole reason why you’re running a fever. why he subjected to railing you underneath water that felt like it was nearing sub-zero was beyond you. it’s not like he’s about to admit he enjoys fucking his special little fire soldier. how he relishes and engrains the sight of your fucked out facial expression deep into his head, burning the image into his retinas. shit, you wouldn’t be surprised if the reason why he sometimes spaces out is because of you.

it’s always been blatantly obvious that you’re the captain’s favourite, no matter how much he denies it and how many glares he shoots at the people from other companies. you��re always left apologising for his behaviour, attempting to keep a straight face.

for the one time you dragged him out to patrol with you, and the amount of incessant whining, complaints and bribes you offered your captain, after a full month of lovely slow burn he decided to come along with you. he just up and left, had the audacity to turn around and ask you why you’re still standing there. benimaru always kept his distance to yours close, in fact the separation was almost minimal. you could feel his shoulders ghost over you.

every time he noticed someone staring at your figure for a little bit too long to be deemed appropriate, he hissed a scoff of distaste. at around the third or fourth person, you were already forced to deal with his short temper.

“what the hell are you gawking at? mind your damn business.”

but sure. apparently you’re not his favourite.

he can scoff and complain all he wants, but that won’t stop him even now from lazily snaking his hand around to his favourite baby girl’s waist. to him, this seems like the most normal thing.

“how else is she going to stand upright? she’s all stick and bones, the wind will knock her right over.”

okay, benimaru. you keep telling yourself that. even when his fingers feel an itch every time they’re not touching a part of your skin. he tends to get a whole lot more mouthy and irritable every time you’re not around, too.

hell, even his own townsfolk pick up on the fact that he’s out and about more. rounds that he always left to the lesser important underlings became more commonplace, especially with you by his side.

but the things that go on behind closed doors?

his peppermint red eyes that haunt your mind, infiltrating your very thoughts. you could be minding your business, going on about your day until you get an abrupt flicker of his mundane tic-tac-toe gaze staring up at you from in between your thighs.

you could be taking care of hinata and hikage, entertaining their antics when you feel the weight of benimaru’s stare burn holes into your uniform.

you could be doing your daily sparring with the captain. in the zone, breath held and blood stream steady until you remember the feel of his hot tongue trailing along the side of your neck. for someone who seems to be stuck in a perpetual state of sadness, you always catch the arrogant smirk that pulls at his lips.

“thinking of something?” he’ll cock his eyebrows, using the distraction to take a jab to your gut.

you groan, stirring around in your bed. you hate him, hate that stupid half lidded gaze of his. you hate how soft his wavy jet black locks are. the way the strands tug and bend whenever you try to yank his face away from your cunt. you run your fingers through your hair in a valiant yet futile attempt to free your thoughts from your captain. it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and you haven’t done anything but reminisce about your lover for the past hour and a half.

a meek and uneven sigh hisses from your lips. your eyes screw open and you flinch at the hard sunlight that pours in from the window. as you use the inner portion of your elbow to shield your gaze, you catch glimpse of a very familiar figure in the doorway.

“captain shinmon?” you inquire, propping yourself up onto your elbows. he closes the door behind him. you’re certain that you looked like a loyal dog sat panting and wagging its tail upon discovering the return of their owner.

“excited to see me?” he remarks in a flat tone, opening the grocery bag he’s carrying before setting a few things down onto your nightstand. it’s mostly medicine, though he snags a few of your favourite snacks and drinks. there’s also one of those fascinating green tea bottles that you buy at the vending machines, except they’re served piping hot.

“how’re you feeling?”

“i told you i was going to get sick if we had the water that cold.” you huff, averting your gaze in a fit.

“not my problem you can’t take a little temperature difference”

“a little? that shit was freezing! how the hell can you take water that cold?”

“how can you not?”

you chuckle a little, shifting to stare up at the ceiling.

“don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“you know i don’t do paperwork. sure as hell not gonna start doing it now.” benimaru huffs, kicking his boots off by the door. you can hear his clothes rustling and your head snaps to face him. he shoots you a glare, as though to scold you. it’s dripping on his face. ‘really? you’re so eager.’

“move up.” he cocks his head to the side, motioning for you to move over. you shift up, room spinning a little too much for your tastes. the mattress dips with his weight and his right arm (our left) reflexively hangs in the air for you to dip your head into the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet. he discards his navy kimono, the article of clothing hangs on one of the hooks at the back of your door. it’s probably not much comfort for him to be relaxing in a bed with half of his uniform still on.

you squish your face against his hard chest, head rising and falling in time with his breathing. the said arm relaxes and his hand rests against your shoulder. subsequently, you realise this is the first time you’ve seen him fully without his kimono on. at the very least, he’d still have the other sleeve on.

benimaru notices your blatant staring at his other arm. he can’t comprehend why you’d gawk at it now, since he’s used it plenty of times to choke you.

he hums a small ‘hm’ in question, asking you what you’re so fascinated about. you can feel his voice thrum and rock against his chest, it sends small shivers licking your body that he doesn’t miss.

“you look so funny without your kimono on. why don’t you wear it like this more often?” you drag your nails softly against his biceps. there’s a small groan that hisses from him. as you await his response, you outline a large vein that runs from his upper arm and trails down all the way to his wrist.

“i get cold easily.”

“then why did you take a shower with me?”

“are you hearing yourself?”

surely a little bit of his body temperature was enough to sacrifice. even if it meant he was sneezing a little bit and shivering afterwards.

“seriously? you can take a tranquiliser but you can’t stand a little cold?”

“you’ll make a shitty wife if you can’t even keep me warm.”

“beni!” you hiss at benimaru in appaul, craning your face up to guffaw at him. the manners on him sometimes are despicable.

you pout, shifting your upper weight to flick benimaru in between his eyebrows. he screws his face in mutiny, lips curled into a scowl.

you and him both know that if it were anyone else flicking him like that, they’d be sent crashing through six different blocks of houses down the street.

“oi.” he warns you, tutting.

“konro come by and work some voodoo magic bullshit on you? ‘cause you’re testing your luck by pissing me off. you’re such a menace when you’re sick, it’s unbelievable.”

you hum in awe, inching your face closer towards his. there’s a wave of mockery that paints your face green and you can only laugh at the unrest that swirls in benimaru’s eyes.

he won’t have his pet talking down to him like that. no, no. that just won’t do.

“oh? really? you want me to do it again?” you flash him a cocky smirk, digits curled into a flicking position. you rest the bridge of your middle finger against benimaru’s forehead, slicking some of his charcoal stained locks out the way.

his left hand flies to catch your hand in an instant. with just two of his fingers, he can wrap himself around your wrist. his touch is assertive, firm. he can drag you the fuck away from him as he pleases, but there’s no real malice or force behind him just yet.

“yeah? try me.” he barks, peering down at you through his lashes.

you just might.

[halfmoonshines]

hi can you do the nsfw alphabet for klaus mikaelson

okay so admittedly I had no idea what this meant, so I'm doing my interpretation haha

NSFW. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

(wait nevermind i googled it)

a ; aftercare - Klaus is the king of aftercare. All cuddles, massages and warm rags

b ; body part - his favorite of your parts is either your thighs or your ass, he's a chub man

c ; cum - he cums in you, always.

d ; dirty secret - he loves bondage but he likes to be the one tied up

e ; experienced - very, but always open to constructive criticism. he wants you to feel good

f ; favorite position - cowgirlcowgirlcowgirl

g ; goofy? - my mans is serious as fuck in bed

h ; hair - minimal hair, but he doesn't mind it on his partners

i ; intimacy - it takes him a bit to open up, but if he feels for you his lips will be glued to yours the whole time. soft caresses and moans just for you

j ; jack off - he masturbates in his art room, i will not be taking questions at this time

k ; kink - spanking, degrading, sir

l ; location - on his yacht (you know he has one), over the counter in the kitchen

m ; motivation - everything about you turns him on, but a nice short dress that accentuates your curves? youre not making it to the restaurant

n ; no - do not under any circumstances call him daddy

o ; oral - loves giving and receiving, 69 is what dreams are made of

p ; pace - klaus is the king of keep you on your toes. fast and hard or slow and sensual, both in one go

q ; quickie - down, always. he will 100% fuck you in the backseat, on a hike, at the movies, etc

r ; risk - always down for experiments and risque places

s; stamina - can go literally all night

t ; toys - has a drawer of fun things to play with

u ; unfair - some healthy teasing, definitely capable of edging you for as long as possible

v ; volume - medium load, groans and dirty talk being his specialty

w ; wildcard - he likes to bite, not necessarily to draw blood but enough to leave his mark

x ; x-ray - in what world is this man not hung like a horse?

y ; yearning - sex drive is sky high

z ; - zzz - he actually does his best painting after a lovely orgasm

did you like this? consider showing this post some love!

[poguestvff]

LIKE A BIG SISTER SHOULD — WHEEZIE CAMERON

in which wheezie cameron finds that blood doesn’t make you family, love and affection does.

taglist | masterlist | 2.5k words | @pogueslandia ,

warning(s): food, she/her pronouns, ward slander, a little sarah slander but that’d include reading between the lines. why’d this make me want to make a series of reader and Wheezie being best friends.

There's always been a heavy feeling of loneliness that rested upon the youngest cameron's shoulders, weighing her down as it seemed to pile over the years. Her siblings were always older, an age gap between them that even if it was shortened by a few years, their worlds would still be two different things. All three of them were in three different stages of life yet somehow it felt like Wheezie wasn't even there at times.

Throughout the entirety of her schooling career so far, everything had somehow been about Rafe and Sarah. Sarah was the perfect one; the paragon who could do no wrong. Even if Sarah tried to disobey, it'd be turned around to be made out as a minute mistake. She'd probably be able to get away with it a second time if she did it a different way. Maybe the same way.

Rafe was quite the opposite. The bastard child who needed a plentiful amount of attention in hopes he can be more like the paragon. With all this attention, his head only grew. It never gave him the space for growth. It minimized the space to stay exactly where he was for years on end.

This left Wheezie to be the ostracized sibling. She wasn't a social butterfly or a poster child like Sarah and she definitely wasn't a loner or the 'damaged goods' child like Rafe. She was just... average. With average grades and an average personality. Just average old Wheezie. She told herself this consistently, watching her father balance his attention between making sure Rafe stayed between the lines he'd drawn for him in a radius such as a dart board and allowing Sarah step out of them, even erasing some of the lines so she could walk on by them without a second thought.

But Wheezie was stuck in that tiny little circle in the middle, the bullseye as if scared to move out of those lines. The one place that was the hardest to pinpoint specifically by her father. But there was one thing Ward Cameron always said correct about his younger daughter. That he wouldn't be able to pin point his little dart of control into the middle of the board because she was misunderstood and misunderstood she was.

Though one person had been able to pick up on every single one of Wheezie's emotions.

Y/n Y/L/N was a pogue who had done tutoring on the side for a little extra money and when John B had recommended Y/n for help with Wheezie's homework, Ward was quick to say okay. He hardly even asked a thing about Y/n, just telling her to help Wheezie pass eighth grade and that was all. It was made very apparent to Y/n that was Wheezie was not as much of a priority to Ward as other things were.

Their first tutoring session, Wheezie was awfully dismissive. She didn't care for any of Y/n's efforts as they sat within the comfort of Wheezie's bedroom. She just wanted the entire hour to be over with the second she'd entered her room but Y/n was insistent, knowing that by the end of the school year she would have something instilled in Wheezie's brain. She just didn't know what that something was yet.

The second time they met, Y/n was more passive aggressive in hopes of breaking down the brick walls Wheezie had stored between her and everyone else in hopes of not disappointing them like the way she thought she'd disappointed her father. Y/n sat her down in her desk chair, swiveling her chair to her as she rested her hands on the younger girls shoulders. "You are going to have a really awkward couple of weeks if you and i don't become friends so no work today. We're playing 20 questions."

That night, Y/n learned a lot about Wheezie Cameron that she never thought she'd learned. Wheezie hated the color purple, she just painted her room that color because Sarah liked that color. Wheezie loved to paint and to draw, it was her favorite activity, she just rarely showed it bevause she hadn't believed in herself. Though, when she showed Y/n the canvas' that were shoved at the back of the closet, Y/n marveled at them. But Y/n's favorite fact, and the same one that almost made her hug Wheezie on the spot, was that she was never taught to swim and Y/n made her a promise that she would teach her.

As the weeks went by, Wheezie waiting anticipatingly for Y/n's beaten down, green ford bronco to pull up on the driveway and she'd leave the house with a giant smile on her face. It’d be early in the morning, a little less than an hour until school started, just like how Wheezie liked. She'd jump in the driver seat, embracing the smell of vanilla from the scented item hanging from the rear view mirror. She’d toss her bag to the back as Y/n would ruffle her hair, just like she had every morning. "And beloved was set in... late 1856!" Wheezie answered excitedly as Y/n drove down the final street towards her school after the two had gotten breakfast together.

"Perfect! You're gonna do so good on your test, Wheeze, I promise." Y/n told her ecstatically as she pulled into a parking space. Just before Wheezie could get out, Y/n held her upper arm just to gain her attention before she got out. "Tell Rose she doesn't have to get you after school. I'll leave school early and you and I are having a girls day. No studying, just me, you and a shit ton of sweets."

Wheezie smiled, she could feel the muscles in her jaw begin to hurt from how wide she had. She tilted her head to the side out of curiosity, eyeing the look of excitement on Y/n's face. "But why?"

Y/n shrugged, adjusting in her seat and fixing her rear view mirror. "Cause, you deserve it. I'm so proud of you, Little W." She told her, looking back towards the girl and seeing her smile slightly drop. "You okay?"

Wheezie couldn't remember a time where she was genuinely told that. Yeah, sure, Ward said it a few times but it'd be in a lousy tone before he'd wave her off, saying he was busy with whatever office work he had to attend to. Sarah may have said it a few times but it was rushed before she'd run after her friends with a quick goodbye to Wheeze, leaving her alone in the sand. It was never sincere. Not in the way Y/n had said it.

She rubbed her hands against her jean clad thighs with a sharp breath before nodding. “Yeah. I've just never really been told that before. Like—Like genuinely." She said, lowly, in hopes Y/n would understand and wouldn't push it.

Y/n had known Wheezie long enough to know her tells and avoiding eye contact was one of the biggest ones. So she didn't indulge further in the conversation, brushing it under the rug but knowing she'd have to go diving back in for that little tidbit later on. Instead she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug from over the console. "I'll tell you i'm proud of you everyday if i have to." Y/n muttered before kissing the top of her head. "Now go, if you're late to first period, your dad will kill me." And Wheezie was able to leave the car with a smile on her face, already looking forward to the day planned later on.

Y/n was overall consistent, it was one thing Wheezie enjoyed knowing that when she made promises she tried to keep them as best as she could. Sometimes things slipped her mind but Wheezie could recognize that Y/n didn't forget a thing when it came to Wheezie. Like she made sure to engrave bits and pieces of her into her mind like a data chart. But it showed she cared and that was enough for Wheezie.

Y/n cared enough that when she entered her car after school, the smell of her favorite cinnabon's filled the car that made her look in the backseat, seeing a picnic basket. There wasn't a chance, right? You could only get them on the mainland. She turned her body swiftly towards the elder girl who sat with a smirk on her face. "You didn't?"

"I did. Second I left fourth period, got on a ferry just for you to have those overly sweet treats." Y/n said, tapping her nose with a 'boop'! "And I almost got stuck on the mainland because of it so you better enjoy the hell out of them."

"I will, I promise." Wheezie said dramatically as Y/n smiled, pulling out of the parking space to head down to the beach. Wheezie had said she didn't have a bathing suit, not prepared for the outing, though Y/n already said she had ransacked her room for clothes for after. Y/n was the only person allowed in Wheezie Cameron's room without Wheezie being there and the elder girl took pride in it.

As Y/n set up their small area for the few hours, she noticed Wheezie standing just where the water and the sand met. She kicked around the water with clear disinterest causing Y/n to huff, hands on her hips, before tossing off her hoodie to get in. The splash she'd made by pushing herself into the water made Wheezie jump, a laugh falling from the two's lips. "Come on." Y/n said, standing and holding her hands out to Wheezie.

"Y/n/n, I can't swim."

"Y/n/n I can't swim, well, obvi, i know that, little W. But, you have your amazing best friend to keep you afloat. I won't let you go, i swear." Y/n said, holding up her pinky.

"Swear?"

"On my life." She reassured with a trusting smile before Wheezie walked further in. When the water had gotten to her above her waist, it'd freaked her out a bit though Y/n talked her through it, coaxing her further in slowly. Wheezie was kept above the water as Y/n held her hands as the buoyancy was used to their advantage. "See, not as bad as you thought?"

Wheezie shook her head though still nervous. "Not as bad, not my thing though."

"Why don't we try actually swimming? I won't force you if you don't want to and we can get back to shore right now but maybe just try?" She asked as Wheezie had to think about it for a moment. She almost felt guilty, remembing just a few months ago when Sarah had asked her if she could teach her but she refused. Though maybe, just maybe, it was because of Y/n being a bit more trust worthy that Wheezie said yes this time.

It took a while, Wheezie was frightened by letting go even as Y/n would say she was okay. Wheezie would tighten her grip on her shoulders before trying again and again until she eventually got it. She finally was able to keep herself above the water without flailing, recognizing that she was okay. Y/n cheered as she watched, not caring for the stares of others around them. "See, dude? You just have to start applying yourself! You did it!"

"I did it!" Wheezie said as Y/n hugged her, the two laughing before Wheezie screamed making Y/n's laughter die fast. "Something touched me!"

"Wheeze, it was seaweed." Y/n said softly before turning and letting her place her hands on her shoulders. "Yeah let's get you out of here before a jellyfish gets you."

Wheezie widened her eyes. "Jellyfish?"

As the sun had began to set and people had packed up their things and left, Y/n and Wheezie stayed. Wheezie was on her fourth doughy treat, even though Y/n told her to slow down two treats ago. Towels were wrapped around each of their shoulders as they watched the pretty colors fade in to one another, a mixture of pink, blue and orange array of colors combining to make a cotton candy sky. Wheezie watched as Y/n got up, accepting a phone call from Ward, the only phone call she hadn't silenced since they'd left the car.

In the time she'd left, Wheezie took advantage of it to recognize how appreciative she was of all that Y/n was doing for her. She came in as a tutor and, to Wheezie, was to stay as a friend. As family. Wheezie was more then ecstatic to have someone who would be there to rant and rave about the other Cameron's, someone she could trust with her secrets and the contents of her always running brain. Someone who was just there.

"Hey, your father would like us back in thirty so we should leave in ten." She said coming back and sitting beside Wheezie as she caught sight of her face, the lack of the smile that was there previously concerning her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Just... I really enjoyed today, Y/n. It really lets me know you're not just here for like... like the money or something."

Y/n let out a scoff. "Are you kidding? I enjoy nothing more than watching you freak out over the existence of jellyfish." She joked as Wheezie pushed her to the side with a laugh. Y/n recovered, letting out a content sigh as she tossed an arm over Wheezie's shoulders. "You're stuck with me now, Wheezes. Can't wait to record you falling at your next soccer game."

Wheezie couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips, leaning into Y/n's embrace as her head rested against her clavicle. "And I'll be looking for you in the stands, Y/n/n."

Y/n and Wheezie had both found out something about the other that night. Wheezie found that she didn't want to be like Sarah and she was glad she wasn't like Rafe. She was content with her own little circle on the dart board but maybe she could take a bit after her newest role model. And Y/n found that she was able to instill several things into the youngers mind including To Kill a Mockingbird, Inca Civilizations, and that she now had a true and present big sister to look up to.

[writingwithcolor]

Indigenous character w/ snake animal familiar: perceived as Jewish by friend

Anonymous asked:

Confusion about coding and critique

So, recently I got a concerning sort of critique about one of my characters - and I want to know what I should do about it, considering who and where it is coming from.

Recently one of my non-Jewish friends pointed out that my main OC character could be considered coded Jewish and began to tell me her portrayal was offensive - but only pointed to their snake familiar (as the character is mage, from a long line of mages) and dehumanization from his abusive mother that resulted in internalized demonization as elements of that.

The only issue I really take with this is these are A) stereotypes from what I’ve read, B) came from a non-Jewish friend, and C) my character is aggressively stated to be mixed Indigenous and their appearance, practices, and their experiences and interests come from things I’ve experienced or held value in during my life as a mixed-race Indigenous man from a rocky back life…

I really don’t want to be offensive to anyone of Jewish heritage, but I don’t know how to take this critique, and I’m scared that my projection of experiences could be read as negative coding…

I appreciate that you are being careful and respectful about this and I am very sorry that your friend minimized your expression of your identity like this. Is the character clearly distinctly practicing a religion other than Judaism? That would be good enough for me because our specific faith is such an important marker of our identity. The Indigenous traditions described in the story will also help to cement them as "not us."

I'm sure your friend means well but snakes are not "creepy" in every tradition and the folks who have positive snake traditions should be able to participate in those legends without it having anything to do with us.

(A disclaimer: yes, there is the snake DILF in my books. He's a dreamboat and my ideal man and a giant reclamation of many antisemitic tropes at once. I've gotten multiple pieces of feedback saying the only reason he works is that it's coming from the inside. These are dangerous waters :P )

--Shira

Um yeah I know there's a lizard thing but I'm not aware really of a snake thing, especially if that's the only feature that makes your character seem Jewish/anti-Semitic. Definitely agree that if the character participates in another religion, there is little danger of him being read as Jewish in any offensive way. Thank you for checking though! 

-Shoshi  

Coding, in its purest sense, is a combination of multiple traits that adds up to create an impression of a particular group. 

It is a collection of items, and everyone who only points to a single feature as proof of a single group’s coding is someone with a weak argument, and there needs to be more clues towards identity. Especially since most singular traits can be related to multiple groups, and it does take multiple traits to create solid coding (this goes for both positive and negative coding, btw, you cannot just give someone brown skin and have that be enough to make them a character of colour).

A single snake familiar for a magic user does not a code make—now, if you had someone with curly hair using blood magic with a snake familiar, I would raise an eyebrow; but if it is just the snake familiar, then the issues are less.

As Shira and Shoshi mentioned, you’re going to need to ground this in Indigenous practices (whether they be Creator-based or more polytheistic, that’s up to your nation), and/or ground this in non-Jewish practices to ensure this isn’t harmful. But if all you have is a snake familiar and general vague “magic”, then you’re at a lower risk. Some people will see this as Jewish regardless, and I would suggest a sensitivity reader to ensure you haven’t woven in some subconscious stereotypes because those exist, but you cannot control everyone’s reactions.

Is it right to question stuff we put into our work subconsciously? Yes, and subtle things can indeed be harmful and go unnoticed. But if you have no other signs that point to a Jewish protagonist, then it is simply a false check; you lose nothing by doing the research, but you don’t have to throw out everything that might lead to people misreading it. If that was a requirement, then very little could be written.

~Mod Lesya

A snake familiar, and an abusive mother don't code a character as Jewish!

I appreciate you taking the time to double, and triple (or with all of us here, quadruple) check your work, and your assumptions. To echo what Shira and Shoshi said: if your character is explicitly practicing a religion other than Judaism, that's going to be enough for most folks especially since, as you suspected, what's included in the work doesn't really point to a Jewish character anyway. 

As a side note, being Indigenous isn't necessarily enough to show that a character is not Jewish, since there are indeed Indigenous North Americans who are Jewish (not a massive population, but they're out there). You've put a lot of other work in to create this character, and show that he isn't Jewish in other ways, and that is enough. 

-- Dierdra

[medium5]

the amount of joy I get from mp100 is unparallYKNOW WHATS COOL ABT TATSUKI FUJIMOTOS STYLE this is unrelated to mp100 i just thought abt it rn ITS COOL THO so obv MAPPA is animating csm and theyre notorious for adapting manga styles REALLY well (banana fish is the best example imo but all of it is great) but even with that something abt the stykes still inevitably change from the b&w manga to colored anime but fujimoto has a very Clean style which translated super well into color-

think abt other mangas theyed adapted, like aot

Isayama has a very rough/sketchy style, and thats hard to animate so its cleaned up in the anime. It still looks similar (note: shadow lines, hair strands) and given the muted color palette the color isnt as glaringnfrom black and white to color, but its still a notable difference.

Fujimoto, on the other hand, has a very clear style.

two things immediately come to mind. First is that he doesnt draw the shadows unkess theyre all-encompassing. You can see asa completely covered in shadow, but looking above he doesnt draw the primary lighting shadows like on Mikasa's face in aot. (in certain panels he Does draw them, but I mean this as a general thing) Shadows are a huge thing that come into issue when adapting anime bcs no matter what it jjst doesnt look rthe same in color vs b&w. (esp. when arstists draw textured or hatched shadows) You'd think this would make it harder given that Fujimoto doesnt draw shadows, but in fact it makes it look better because the flat coloring works well with the already flat appearance.

Secondly, even textured things dont have much detail in csm- note the muscles of the justice devil, they have hatched shadows but its still very minimal. And then in character appearence, its an entirely clean surface. its hard to drscribe but the faces of characters are just very. clean. Even wrinkled characters like Kishibe dont have much obscuring the face itself.

now, you can note that some panels- namely chainsaw devil and general gorey ones- DO have a lot of sketchiness/detail

but something interesting to notice is thay when you actually look at it, it Doesnt have as much detail as originally assumed. Note the blood in the katana man panel, and organs in the chainsae devil panel- those ate both actively moving objects. While in paneling it takes a lot of detail into the panel, if its animayed it'll be obscured by motion blurs or general movement, so despite the detail the anime shoild still visually be similar even if theu sacrifice some of it for ease of animation.

the csm anime.also has a very muted color palette like AOT which should help with the constrast from b&w to color lol

[keiarchived]

the whole headcanons game for yandere! Hawks? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ly

You’ve got it 👉🏻👈🏻 🥺

Yandere!Hawks’ NSFW alphabet!

Read with caution!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

I feel like Yan Hawks would be so soft when it comes to after care, like he knows how rough he has been on you so is only fair he takes a good care of you after. With lots of kisses and praises.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

T H I G H S — I don’t make the rules, but I feel like belly because breeding kink 💦

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

We all know Keigo will use a toy to plug it up reall good in your pussy

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It excites him when slight blood is drawn when you guys are playing rough

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Very and know exactly how to use that dick

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

B R E E D I N G P R E S S — But also doggie

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

A little bit of both, Keigo can either looks at you like he’s about to fuck the brains out of you or tease you about that cute noise you just made

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Feels like he keep it to the minimal but defo not clean shaved

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Oh yeah, very. It varies from teeth rottening sweet kisses to just hella sexy gestures like biting, nibbling and taking in every expressions you give

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Hawks probably have a pair of your panties on him at all times so he can jerks off at work during break

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

B R E E D I N G K I N K, daddy/sir/master, pet play, oversim

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Usually the bedroom where no one else could see how beautiful you look taking his cock BUT balcony is an option too

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Teasing, bratty attitude, when people giving you those hungry looks

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Being pegged 👉🏻😔👈🏻, cucked

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

We all know how well Hawks knows how to work his tongue, eating you up like his last meal on earth 💦

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Most fast and rough, knocking the air out of you but also slow and sensual at times when he feels like you deserves a treat

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickies happen less than you would think, only when he’s frustrated and think your being a brat

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Oh yeah, if he find something new and wanna try he will, maybe you’d like it too

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Definitely multiple but depends on the day since being number two hero is hard work y’know

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

YES 💦 gags, oviposition eggs toys, plug, blind fold, ropes, fucking machine but toys are not often use, only when the mood is right

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He will leave you high and dry after cumming, make you cum on his finger alone and make you watch him jerk off but no you’re not getting his cock

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Hawks can be fairly loud, grunts, groans, growls, telling you how good you look with his cock in you

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Sometimes Hawks have fantasies of fucking you in front of an audience but don’t think he ever will because yeah they’d probably be dead the next day

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Hawks have a fairly sized cock, maybe not as length but definitely girthy 💦

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, Hawks will at least fuck you 5 times a week but quickie not included

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Hawks will make sure to at least clean the both of you up before passing out whilst snuggling into you as the big spoon

[petri808]

my story for the @bakudekubigbang w/artist @kurisutythehero

Summary: Kitsune yokai Midoriya Izuku is a simple shrine fox protecting the Tamaki-jinjja shrine as well as the surrounding forest. One day he comes across hunters who dare to poach in his forest along with an injured wolf they'd shot. But after nursing this wolf back to health, Izuku learns... he's a yokai too.

Tags: fantasy AU, Japanese folklore, Sex, A/B/O elements, marking, elemental magic. Kitsune & Okami.

Ch 1 of 4 to be posted in completion between now and New Years 😊 and when the artist posts I’ll add a link into the story.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352196

The loud cry of a wolf rings out through the sacred forest surrounding Tamaki-jinjja shrine. It’s spirit keeper, a kitsune fox yokai named Izuku Midoriya looks out, training his ears towards the direction it had come from. A second guttural growl pierces his ears causing him to flinch; the animal was in pain, followed by the fainter sound of male human voices. How dare! Hunters in his forest and so close to the shrine! Furious, the kitsune races through the dense brush using his keen senses to track the hunter’s movements. They would pay dearly for coming here.

In the 1100 hundred years since the shrine had been created, a kitsune yokai has protected it and all those that sought to gain enlightenment through Shugendo. Nature was sacred to these mountain worshipers and they believed that deities could be communed with there. The forest surrounding Mount Tamaki was precious to Midoriya and he didn’t care if a wolf could provide meat for the humans, they needed to leave this place in peace! He was only 200 years into this job, and he would be damned if he let a bunch of hunter’s ruin Tamaki’s tranquility.

The men were traipsing through the brush as well searching for the wolf. Midoriya could hear them talking now, the animal had been hit by an arrow twice but managed to escape into the dense underbrush. He needed to be careful, scare these men away and not become a victim too, but his cleaver and somewhat devious nature was one of the reasons a fox yokai guarded the temple. His two-tails swish excitedly as he survey’s what turns out to be only two men, one with a bow and the other brandishing a large broad-bladed knife. Based on their attire, he assumed they were most likely just peasants from a nearby village at the base of the mountain.

He needed to work quickly for the stench of blood rang true in the air. The wolf was definitely hit and bleeding badly enough for its smell to permeate the surrounding area. Midoriya turns on his invisibility magic and moves in to where the hunters would be able to see him.

“Who dares to disturb this sacred forest! We will not allow you to hunt within our territory!”

“What the hell is that?!” Midoriya sees the hunters ready their weapons and frantically scan the area. The one who’d asked the question has their bow knocked and raised.

“This land is protected by the spirit guardians of Mount Tamaki.” Midoriya sends out a blast of spiritual, blue-flamed fox fire close to the men as a warning. “Leave now and never come back or face the wrath of the kami!!”

“I told you this place was inhabited by spirits!” The second man now speaks up, punching his friend in the shoulder. “That’s why no one hunts up here, baka!”

“I don’t believe in stupid spirits!”

‘Oh, you don’t huh?’ Midoriya sends out another blast of fire this time hitting the man’s bow. The man screams and drops the weapon as the fire quickly consumes it. He takes off without a second look, running along with his friend, and heading down the mountain. “Good riddance,” the kitsune grins and turns off his invisibility. Now to find the wolf.

It couldn’t have made it very far. He tracks the trails of blood and scent through the forest for about one hundred feet back toward the side of the mountain. Perhaps it was heading for a cave? But beneath one of the ancient cedar trees, he finds the wolf barely clinging to life. One arrow had hit it in a hind leg, and the other the chest area. The frightened wolf growls at him.

“Don’t be afraid,” Midoriya shuts off his cloaking magic to show the wolf he was no ordinary human. “I am the spirit guardian of the mountain and shrine. I can help you.” He tries to reach out, but the wolf continues with a low growl. “You will not survive unless we take care of those wounds.” Frankly, until he inspected the chest wound, he wouldn’t know for sure. He lowers his ears to show concern, “please let me help you. It is my duty to care for this forest and its inhabitants and I do not want to see any die.”

Now that he was up close, this wolf was unusual for the area with its yellowish fur and red eyes. Japanese wolves were usually a brownish gray color. He kneels next to it and tries again to reach out his hand, very slowly, allowing the wolf to take in his scent. The wolf’s heartbeat was strangely calmer than he expected it to be, shouldn’t it be beating rapidly? But just as Midoriya lowers his hand again, the wolf tries to get up and run. It makes it only a few feet before collapsing with a pained cry.

The kitsune rushes over and drops next to the wolf with tears building in his eyes, its tail flicking with agitation. “Please let me help you!” He reaches for the wolf, but this time, it growls low, and turns its head away, communicating its intention not to stop him.

Midoriya assesses the wolf to determine the best way to get it back to the shrine. He would have to carry it as gently as he could. The terrain shouldn’t be too difficult for him, but ugh, it would be so much easier if he had more powers. Those came with age and experience, and at 450 years old, he was still young in the eyes of other yokai. “I’m sorry,” he whimpers as he picks the wolf up, knowing the jostling and shifting of its body would cause more pain. It shrieks, but at least doesn’t try to bite.

He takes the wolf to his part of the temple, a section reserved only for the spirit guardian where the human priests are forbidden from entering. There he creates a simple make-shift bed and begins collecting medicinal herbs to treat the wounds. The monks keep many on hand in case lost or injured travelers are found. Midoriya places a few drops of Hokuto mint into the wolfs mouth, hoping it will have the same pain killing effects on an animal as it does for humans.

“This will hurt, so I am binding your mouth and limbs to keep you from injuring yourself or me,” Midoriya explains as he wraps a strip of fabric around the animal’s mouth. “I need to remove the arrow.” Luckily, based on what he saw from the hunters, they were only using plain pointed sticks rather than full arrow heads. If he’d had to dig out arrow heads, things would be a lot more complicated.

“Okay guy, brace yourself,” he warns regardless if the wolf understood him or not. But when the wolf looks away and locks the muscles its jaw, Midoriya realizes that somehow it understood. Odd, but nevertheless a minor mental note is made for later.

Using his sharp claws, the kitsune slices through the skin where the arrow has lodged itself to make freeing it a smoother transition. Surprisingly, the wolf’s body only reacts with a slight tremor and nothing more. Animals often refrained from showing weakness, but this was strange. Shoving that intrigue to the back of his mind, Midoriya focuses on his task, removing the two arrows and using various medicinal rubs to stem the blood loss. He stitches up the wound’s gaps, then wraps bandages around the area to keep infection to a minimal.

He sits back on his haunches, twin tails flickering as he gauges the animal. “You’ll need time to heal Mr. wolf, but you can stay here where no one will bother you. I’ll have to change the ointments and bandages daily, and hopefully you’ll be back to new in no time. Until the flesh mends and the stitches are no longer required, you shouldn’t move around.”

The wolf just stares at him but makes no movement to get up from where it lay.

Midoriya smiles and chuckles, “It’s so weird that you understand me. Stay here, I’ll fetch you some food and water, you must be hungry.” Maybe it was a part of his magic that allowed animals to understand him. Wouldn’t it work both ways if that was the case? Again, he pushes the idea to the back of his mind for now. He places a bowl of water next to the wolf along with some fresh meat and goes back to his shrine duties, promising to check on him through the day.

He swore every time he entered the room where the wolf lay, it’s ruby red eyes would track his movements like a predator stalking its prey. No sounds, no head movement, just the eyes. If it was a human, Midoriya would have sworn it was glaring at him. He didn’t blame the wolf for being wary. All across Japan, wolves were slowly being hunted, and in some areas to extinction. Well, as long as there was a forest guardian, they would do their best to protect this area.

“Not hungry?” the kitsune questions the wolf when he sees the food untouched. “Does it hurt to eat? You really should put something in your stomach,” he holds the bowl closer, “to help you keep up your strength.” But the wolf doesn’t make a move. “Here,” he picks up a piece of meat and holds it next to the animals mouth, “please?”

After a couple of seconds, the wolf blows out a puff of air as if it was huffing in annoyance but takes the meat gently from Midoriya’s hand. Did it roll it’s eyes at him? Regardless, the kitsune repeats the action, and again the wolf takes the meat. Well at least this was working. He continues to feed the wolf until all the meat was gone, then holds the bowl of water close enough to the animal’s mouth so it can lap up the liquid.

“I’m going to check your wounds, okay? To make sure it looks okay.” Midoriya feeds the wolf a few drops of the mint once more, enough to last him the night. He then slowly unwraps the bandages, careful not to pull in the areas where the drying blood has stuck to the wounds.

The wolf flinches and growls lightly when he tugs to get the last of the stuck areas off. “Sorry, sorry!” the kitsune flinches too, ears drooping. He’s never endured such a wound before, so he couldn’t even imagine what kind of pain the animal might be in. When the wolf settles down, Midoriya leans closer to inspect the flesh. There was a bit of bruising, but the area was a nice pink color indicating the blood flow was good and working on healing. So far, so good, no indication of infection, and the bleeding had stopped.

He smiles at the wolf, “you’re on the road to recovery my friend.” After removing the old bandages and placing them to the side, he readies fresh ones. He wipes off the old honey and ointments gently with a wet cloth, then pats the area dry. Then he applies a new coat of medicinal ointments and honey, explaining as he goes along. “I know, it probably seems weird right?” he chuckles, “but the honey helps against infection.” The kitsune finishes securing the new bandages and sits back to admire his handywork; not bad for his first time tending to a wounded creature.

“Are you comfortable mister wolf? Hmm, you know I should give you a name.” He taps his chin, “how about Akaime?” The animal blows a deep puff of air at him and growls. “No? Okay, um, what about Tsuyoshi?” Again, the wolf just stares at him looking irritated. “Alright fine, how about Ryota since you’re such a strong one.” The wolf puts his head back down. Midoriya couldn’t tell if the wolf was annoyed, gave up, or really didn’t care. “I’m just gonna call you Ryota then.” He bundles up the old linen to wash and stands up, “I’ll see you in the morning Ryota. Good night. Oh,” he turns back around and smiles, “I’m Izuku by the way.”

He finishes tidying up, depositing the soiled linens into the laundry pile, washing the food bowl, and putting away the medicine jars. After one last look at the wolf who appeared to be asleep, Midoriya grabs his candlelight and moves into an adjacent room to set up his futon bedding. It had been a tiring, but exciting day for sure and he was ready to get some sleep.

Part of him wondered if the wolf had been waiting until the cover of darkness to sneak away in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t surprise him considering it was a wild animal that shouldn’t be very comfortable around a human establishment. But then again, in its condition Midoriya also knew it wouldn’t be able to get away very quietly. Judging from the fact it hadn’t moved at all through the day, not even to adjust its position, the wolf had to still be in a lot of pain.

‘I wonder if there are other wolves in the area?’ These animals tended to live in packs, but where was Ryotas? It wasn’t impossible for it to be a lone wolf, just odd if it was. Maybe because he looks very different from the others… In fact, why was it a different color? Is there something special about it? All the questions that had concerned him were coming back up as he tried to get to sleep, but probably the biggest one was why did it seem like the wolf understood what he was saying? ‘I’ll probably never get an answer,’ considering the animal couldn’t talk.

Guess it can’t be helped.

As the week went by, each day Midoriya would dutifully care for the wolf’s injuries, making sure it was fed, and carrying it outside whenever it needed to take care of bodily functions. It was a strange little relationship that by the second day, the monks were aware of the animals presence in the shrine because the kitsune required extra meats and supplies. Not that they questioned anything, nor would they dare to venture too close, but it was unusual.

Slowly but surely, the wolf was getting better. By the end of the week, it could limp outside to do its own business, and yet would still return to the bed Midoriya had made for it. This only added to the kitsune’s confusion, confirming that the animal truly understood it was being cared for. Confused, but it brought a smile to his face to know he was doing something truly good. Under his tender care the wound was almost fully closed up and soon the wolf would be able to return to the wild good as new.

But another part of him wasn’t happy about that idea. It was almost a full two weeks since the day he’d saved Ryota from those hunters and the wolf was becoming like a roommate to the kitsune. Even though the animal couldn’t talk back, it didn’t stop the forest spirit from conversing with it, sharing things that happen at the shrine or just things about himself. It passed the lonely hours away especially in the evenings and he looked forward to hanging out with the wolf once his shrine duties were finished. He couldn’t tell for sure and yet it felt to him as if the wolf was tolerating it... maybe even enjoying the company too? Yeah… he was sure gonna miss his new friend when it left.

“Well, Ryota,” Midoriya sits back after unwrapping the last bandage, “you’re pretty much all healed up now.” A bit of moisture gathers in his eyes. “You could go home now, wherever home may be.”

The wolf looks at where the injury had been as if inspecting it for itself, giving it a sniff, before looking back to the kitsune. After a minute, it stands up, stretches it’s body and legs, then bolts out of the door into the night.

Midoriya hangs his head, wiping the fresh tears away. Knowing this day was coming didn’t make it any easier, but hey, ‘you did a great job,’ he assures himself, ‘you saved that wolf.’ “I know,” his voice murmurs out to no one but the empty room. Maybe he’ll see the wolf around again. “Goodbye, Ryota.” ‘I’ll miss you.’

For the rest of the night, Midoriya putters around through his normal routine. He disassembles the makeshift bed the wolf used while under the kitsune’s care and disposes of the soiled linens. When he was finished cleaning up, it was as if Ryota had never been there at all. With a heavy heart, Midoriya climbs into his own bed and closes his eyes. Tomorrow will be a new day. It was time he resumed his normal life once more.

“Mmm, warm…” Midoriya mumbles and wraps his arms around the furry warm body. His mind was only semi lucid and certain it was a dream, but a really amazing one for Ryota had come back and curled up next to him in his bed. “Missed you…”

When he opens his eyes the next morning, Midoriya yawns and stretches, reaching out but finding nothing. He frowns, it really was just a dream that felt so real! Wait a minute? The kitsune sniffs at the bedding. It smelled like Ryota! The wolf had come back in the night but left before he woke up. Why had it done that? This wolf brought about a plethora of unanswered questions for the kitsune and even after two weeks he really knew nothing.

Days turn to weeks as a strange new routine takes root between the kitsune and the wolf. On random nights the wolf would return after Midoriya has gone to sleep to curl up with him in bed. There was no rhyme or reason to these visits. Sometimes the wolf would sneak in for several nights in a row while at other times it would disappear for many days. Always waiting for him to be asleep and always gone by morning, leaving only his scent and the lingering warmth he’d brought to the kitsune. It was odd to say the least, like having a ghost for a pet.

Life at the shrine could get lonely at times, so these gestures filled Midoriya’s heart with happiness. He hoped Ryota was doing it because he cared for the kitsune. Sort of like accepting him into its pack. His only wish was that it would show itself when he was awake. So many nights would go by with Midoriya’s last thoughts centered around the wolf and those ruby red eyes that almost peered into your soul.

But this wasn’t the only change in their relationship.

Because of the shrines location set away from urban settlements and knowing that visitors would leave money in the offering box, wayward robbers would occasionally pass through and break into the prayer box. It happened so infrequently, that Midoriya and the priests didn’t try to stop them because it would require someone to be on guard all night, every night. All that would remain was a broken box empty of its contents.

“What’s this?” Midoriya surveys the broken offering box laying on the ground that morning. It appeared to have been cracked open, but the money was still in it. He looks around curiously and notes a few more signs of the intended robbery. The gravel area next to the box was disturbed as if a scuffle had taken place as well as finding several drops of blood still tacky to the touch along the stone walkway leading away from the shrine.

Someone or something had evidently thwarted the robbery. The kitsune tips his nose to the air scenting for any other traces, then follows it to a nearby shrub. There he finds a tuft of yellowish blonde fur stuck to the brush. “Ryota?” Midoriya looks around even though the wolf’s scent was no longer in the immediate vicinity. Had the wolf stopped the robbery? And where were the robbers? He hoped the wolf had not killed them, for even though what they did was wrong, he didn’t believe in killing unless absolutely necessary.

A part of him wanted to search for his missing friend, but his duties at the shrine were more important for now. He washes the blood off the stone walkway, smooths back out the gravel of the garden, and takes the offering box to his rooms to fix. Ryota’s scent was definitely on the box, so it must have touched it at some point during the fight. Was this the wolfs way of paying him back for his kindness? If it was such a gesture, the kitsune was appreciative and so were the priests.

Almost a month later, a similar incident is discovered bright and early one morning. Another broken offering box, another thwarted robbery. This time the thief had gotten farther than the last one. There were coins scattered across the stone walkway, but the bulk of it remained inside the vessel. To Midoriya, it looked as if the box had been dropped, perhaps when the savior had caught the robber in the act. He gathers up all the coins, placing them back into the box before taking it back to his room to fix, while another priest takes care of cleaning up the area.

As he works on fixing the wooden container, Midoriya can’t help but think about what’s been going on. He was certain that Ryota had snuck into his room last night… and come to think of it, the wolf had been here during the previous robbery as well. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, only that it made the thwarted robberies easier on the wolf to deal with. “Maybe that’s why he comes here?” He thinks out loud. “So, he can be closer?”

But on the third incident a few weeks later, that logic doesn’t apply. Ryota hadn’t made his nightly visits to Midoriya for several days, and on the night of the latest attempted theft, the wolf never came to his room. Yet it was clear based on a few strands of fur left behind, it was Ryota that had saved the offerings once again.

[mca-attack21]

Too Late

A/N: This is sad, but that’s okay. There is character death and also a car accident. There will be a part two, named AFTER, coming out very shortly.

“When you can do the things that I can and you don’t and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you”

That quote was Peter’s answer when Tony had asked him why he was Spider-Man. He knew that he could use his power to do a multitude of things, but he had decided to use it to help people, to protect his community, to be a hero.

But what was the point now? What was the point of any of this if he couldn’t save you?

Every time he closed his eyes he was back in that car. The two of you were on your way to celebrate your two year anniversary. You were talking about your plans for college and your graduation that was right around the corner. Peter had been planning everything out about this night for weeks. He was nervous that he had gone slightly overboard, but Mr. Stark and Pepper assured him that it was going to be perfect.

He looked over at you as you were singing along to one of your favorite songs on the radio. His chest filled with adoration and eased any nerves that he had. He was about to continue the conversation when his spidey senses went off. He quickly looked for the source of danger but was cut off as a car collided with your own on the driver’s side.

The next thing he remembered was the smell. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly, maybe the car’s fuel, maybe the airbags. Then the pain. He reached up to feel the side of his head which was covered in blood. He seemed to be pinned to the seat. He was extremely disoriented and found it hard to focus. That was at least until the panic set in. He remembered where he was and who he was with. He looked over and realized that you weren’t in the car.

He struggled through the previously unrealized pain in his shoulder to reach his phone. He called the one person who could help him, the person who had always been there to help him.

“Hello Pete, how’s the big date going? Give her the ring yet?” 

“T-Tony-”

“Peter what’s wrong? Where are you?” he cut him off already summoning one of his suits.

“We were- there was a car- and I-” Peter tried but he was freaking out.

“Friday track Peter’s location and notify 911” Tony said to his AI.

“Peter, it’s okay I’m on my way, are you hurt?”

“I’ll b-be fine. No-nothing worse than I’ve dealt w-with before,” he answered.

“And how’s Y/n?”

“I-I don’t know. She’s n-not in the car and I can’t g-get out,” he replied as his breathing started to get faster.

“It’s okay Pete, just try to calm down. I’m almost there and help is on the way,” Tony reassured.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter breathed,

True to his word, Tony touched down moments later. Seeing the state off the two cars he was surprised that anyone was going to be walking away from the accident. He quickly went to where Peter was and started to get him out of the car.

“No, go find Y/n first. I’ll be fine. Just go help her.” he pleaded. 

Tony moved around to where you were laying on the ground. He immediately knelt down and had Friday scan your vitals. You were seemingly unconscious with a large piece of glass sticking out of your chest and blood from where your head met the cement. Friday’s scan showed that you had multiple broken bones and were in critical condition with almost no chance of survival. Tony knew that he couldn’t risk moving you, especially since he had no way to stabilize you. He also knew that while help was coming, that it wouldn’t get there in time. Silent tears fell from his eyes as he returned to Peter. 

“How is she? She’s okay right?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Kid- she,” Tony started. 

Peter didn’t even need to see his face to know. That tone is the same tone every adult used when they told him devastating news. It was the tone from when his parents died. The tone from when his uncle was murdered.

“No, she has to be okay, she-” he started crying. 

“Pete, she’s not-, I need to get you out of here so you can say goodbye,” Tony tried, his own emotion taking over. 

He used the strength of his suit to pull the door off of the mutilated car. He then carefully readjusted Peter’s seat to free him. He had Friday do a scan to see the severity of his injuries. Besides the shoulder and concussion, he had bruised ribs and was experiencing multiple symptoms of shock. Tony helped him out and supported most of his weight as he led him to you.

Peter immediately sunk down and was debating the best way to hold you. He wanted more than anything to pull you into his arms, but he was so afraid of making things worse. Tears were gliding down his cheeks as took your hand in his and called your name. Despite how much he wanted you to be okay, somewhere deep down he knew Tony was right. This was it. He was drawn out of his thoughts as he heard your quiet voice.

“P-Peter?”

“Hey, I’m right here,” he said as he leaned over you so you could see his face.

“What happened?” you asked struggling through your thoughts.

“We were in a car accident, but it’s okay help is on the way,”

“Peter, you’re bleeding,” you say taking in his appearance. You made the mistake of trying to sit up and grimaced in pain.

“Easy Y/n, just try to lie still,” he all but whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” you said as tears escaped your eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” 

“I ruined our date,” you tried

“What? This? This is still not the worst date I’ve been on,” he tried to joke.

You smiled. God he loved that smile. He wanted to spend the rest of his life making you smile. This was so unfair. Why? Why did this have to happen to you? Why now?

“Peter, what’s wrong?”

But even as the words left your mouth, you knew. You knew that you weren’t going to be okay. That this was how it would end. And, you realized that Peter most know this too. You didn’t want to go, you didn’t want to leave him. It was supposed to be the two of you against the world. You were supposed to graduate together, and go to college, and get married, and have kids, and make the world a better place. There was so much that you were supposed to do. But none of that mattered now did it? You braced yourself and decided to make the most of the few minutes you may have left. 

“I love you so much, Peter Parker,” you started.

“Y/n, please don’t,” he cried.

“Pete, you are the bravest, kindest, person I know. You’ll be okay. It’ll take time but-”

“Stop it!”

“It’s okay Peter,”

“No, it’s not, I can’t lose you too,” he cried.

You were at a loss for words. The excruciating pain you once felt was numbing. You knew that you were running out of time.

“Peter, tell me you love me,”

“I do, I-I love you so-so much,” he sobbed.

“Promise- Promise me- you’ll move on. That you’ll be happy,” 

“Y/n I-”

“Promise, that you won’t shut down. You have so many people who love you. Let them help you,” you struggled as it became harder and harder to breath, unconsciousness - no, death- was creeping in.

“I promise,” he replied.

“Good,” you whispered eyes closing and chest falling for the last time.

“Y/n? Y/n wake up. Come on I don’t want to do this with out you. Just-just stay with me. Help is coming. I-I love you. I love you so much.” Peter cried pulling your lifeless body off of the ground and craddling you in his arms. 

Tony, who had returned from helping the people in the other car, minimized his suit and went over to Peter. He honestly didn’t know what to do, his heart broke for the kid. He gently went to his side putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“She’s gone,” he whispered.

“I know Pete,” he said sadly.

“We should really get you back to the tower, to the med-bay, I can have Happy go pick up your aunt.” 

“I don’t want to leave her.”

“The paramedics are here, they’re going to take her.”

Peter looked up for the first time since it had happened. The road was now blocked off. The police and ambulances were here. People were trying to see what had happened. He knew Tony was right. It was time for him to leave. So he hugged you one last time placed a kiss on your head and laid you down on the ground, pausing to close your eyes. He took once last glance before allowing Tony to guide him away.

[alukaforyou]

I know you've mentioned this before but you're not close with your parents. I just had an awful experience with my mom where I realized that she has a very low opinion of me and doesn't actually care about me as her child. How do you cope with you parents, if you don't mind me asking?

ya in my case i dont doubt they love me and have made lots of sacrifices for me, but ultimately, you are the arbiter of the love people give you, and i reject on some fundamental level the love my parents have for me - its not real love b.c they dont love ME, they love the idea they have of me. my parents rly kno jack shit abt me and i never rly talk to them abt anything meaningful to myself cuz i dont trust them - i hear the hurtful things they say abt other people which is 1. disturbing and 2. jokes on them cuz little do they kno they are insulting me too (like every time they shit on lgbt ppl or mentally ill ppl like bruh... i am that... lmfao..) and not just the whole fundamentally rejecting parts of me / my experience (aka... gaslighting... getting mad at me that One time i tried to open up abt depression / being suicidal and telling me "stfu no u arent, dont even say that shit" lmfao thx), they rly just dont listen to me Constantly, like Every time i try to educate them on race matters and whatnot theyre like loool silly girl u dont kno wat ur talking abt, actualy :3c and its so irritating not being taken seriously, ever so basically yea, im super done w. this "fam" and while i am grateful that they raised me p well and didnt do sketchy behavior like check my phone / comp, etc or physically abuse me.... like.... am i rly supposed to be grateful for that LMFAO if anything the fam gives me the lower most, maybe the lower 2 levels of the maslow's hierachy of needs (all the emotional support & unconditional love, i get from my friends, aka my found / real family) so i am super estranged from them & i dont rly seek their approval or w.e. in my case, my parents provide me / has provided for me housing and some degree of financial support (like... free housing.. free food... etc..) so thats p much the extent of how i see our relationship. like.. open ur purse ig? LOOOOOL and when i move out, im totally prepared to slowly drift out of their life like... y would i wanna spend time w. racists and terfs when... i could be seeing friends??? its a lil weird cuz on some level i am... attached to them cuz the whole ~family! blood relations~ concept but tbh in the very real future possibility that my fam disowns me / never sees me again for some dumbass reason, ig i wont miss them much. like nothing irritates me more than the expectation of having unconditional love / respect for ur family / elders (esp in asian / collectivist culture) because family is gacha and toxic people r toxic whether or not they happen to be ur relatives or w.e. ik its hard cuz ~its my mom!~ and ya sure maybe u have some good memories with her, or shes not toxic / hurtful / whatever *all* of the time, but none of us have to be begging for scraps. im sorry you didnt get the love & support & understanding we all deserve from our parents but.... family is gacha lol. id say, try to accept the good times and the shitty times and kno u dont rly have any obligation to stay in their lives as their child, and any reconciliation plans or the degree of "presence" you will have in their life is toootally up to you. also try to communicate first if you u r comfy with that, like really clearly let them know how they hurt you and see if you can salvage the relationship if you so desire. see my parents wont ever freakin listen to me so all avenues for communication are closed. i cite irreconciliable differences and choose to just shut them out of my personal life lol.

if you have the means at all to move out... that would b good.... but if not, just try ro hang in there and make ur home experience the most bearable as possible. see, my job is to have the most peaceful existance i can. so while i wanna fight w my parents and whatever, i just dont to save my own energy like im not here to educate or change ppl that wont listen. so i try to minimize my interaction w them and stay in my room most of the time. i also focus on my own hobbies like art or exercise or watch films or play / talk w my sister instead. having great friends that lov & support & uplift u is key. surround urself w ppl that appreciate you and value you b.c we are all precious and important and ofc. we'll make our own mistakes so we all rly need ppl who bring out the best in us! online friends are super valid as well, if u need more friends def try to join some online communities around ur own interests and meet wonderful ppl! hope that helped a lil.... sry for wat happened again.. i hope things get better for u!!

[gengarprotectionsquad]

bad horror movie ideas i've been compiling b/c @fleetwoodmurk is an enabler:

thankskilling: the family connections of a 19 year old college student allow him to skirt by any substantial sentencing for violent anti-indigenous hate crimes, just in time for him to make it home by thanksgiving. the soothing whispers of how he “shouldn’t have his life ruined for making a mistake” on property staked in stolen indigenous land invite the wrathful presence of autumn’s bounty-- a ghastly, therizinosaurus-like approximation of a turkey powered solely by the anguish of lives taken in the name of american colonialism. after all, if that family wants their son to have some turkey, then he’ll get his eight foot-tall, blade-handed, undying turkey.    

homebody: forced to pull into a run-down motel by a freak storm, a group of friends initially find themselves faced with nothing more harrowing than the occasional cobweb and staff who never meet visitors face-to-face, even finding a note on the front counter that there’s no fee for staying--so long as they “spread the word” if they find their stay satisfactory. but, after waking up each morning to find that they’ve lost clumps of hair, individual teeth, and even a toe among other body parts, they discover the motel’s one and only employee--a colossal, man-like harvestman that severs human tissue with surgical precision (thanks to its spindly, 15 meter arms) in a misguided attempt to better fool human prey by grafting the fruits of its labor onto its own body.     

goliath’s revenge: a japanese kaiju film director finally pushes his luck just a tad too far, killing the suit actress for the lead “goliath” monster as a direct result of the director’s penchant for strenuous, dangerous stuntwork. when his connections allow him to wriggle his way out of the tragedy scot-free, the suit actress’ furious spirit reanimates in her signature costume--now made flesh and blood--in order to exact a vengeful rampage of monstrous proportions that her former boss could only have hoped to have filmed. 

more under the cut!!!

hivemind: a single mother reeling from a devastating divorce seems to find new purpose in her life thanks to a california-based branch of a yoga group that emphasizes the value of both diligence and mindfulness. as the months go by, however, she realizes that she’s so deeply invested her time with the group that she doesn’t even know the names of anyone in her neighborhood that isn’t involved with them. just as she’s having doubts, she’s invited on a week-long retreat to experience what will hopefully become an outdoor facility of theirs, and that even their founder will be in attendance. she and her daughter do indeed meet the group’s founder--a colossal, humanoid queen ant who is rendered inert by her size, subsequently relying on her psychic abilities to indoctrinate human followers to her side and transform them into “suitable workers” that would happily give their lives for her sake   

children of the night: an exorcist, a private investigator, a trio of true crime podcasters, the local sheriff w/ top suspect in tow, a self-proclaimed “vampire hunter”, and a humble gravedigger all converge on the same cemetery when it becomes host to a series of unspeakably gruesome murders--the site being deemed the “vampires’ playground” for the crimes’ bloody nature. but when the self-confessed suspect winds up cleaved in twain at the scene, it turns out they’ll all have to deal with actual vampires--hulking, gorilla-like, hairless bats with the intelligence of a toddler and a permanent, gummy grin filled with teeth far too dull to consume flesh that hasn’t been playfully beaten to a fine pulp beforehand 

think tank: with the untimely death of a silicon valley tech giant who’d racked up a reputation for being as antisocial as he was exploitative, a documentary crew visits his main offices in hopes of interviewing any available employees in order to determine whether or not that open secret had any truth to it. though cooperative enough, the surly defensiveness that seems to increase in prevalence as the crew makes their way up the corporate ladder leads one particularly-intrepid camerawoman to sneak the crew far further into the building than originally intended and into a hidden basement. this brings them face-to-face with the deceased entrepreneur’s dirty little secret, known as the think tank: a captive “psychic existence” brought into being using the harvested, collective brainpower of every employee who refused to take their boss’s shit but was just too talented to let go 

whalefall: the 300 ft tall, walking corpse of a whale dredges its way up from the ocean floor and onto american shorelines, bringing with it tidal waves of pestilence and plague. when japanese fishermen identify the creature as a bake-kujira--a ghostly whale that harbors only misfortune and undead sealife in the wake of maritime disaster--the federal government opts to not only ignore their insight, but outright blame japan and their whaling industry for its presence. their relative inaction in the name of xenophobia and saving face will serve only to prolong the creature’s attack, with entire coastal towns left to deal with the flooding and zombified deep-sea organisms themselves. 

study skin: a group of hunters grow too impatient to wait for their county’s deer season and set out under the cover of nightfall in hopes of snagging a trophy or two. though met with a highway lined with bizarre amounts of roadkill and a totally silent forest, they disregard their unease and set up for the night. they soon discover the true reason for the minimal duration of the local hunting season when they catch a glimpse of an old friend long-thought to have vanished on a hunting trip, bringing them face-to-face with the hidewinder--a mysterious creature that inhabits the skins of deceased animals in search of larger and more complex bodies to call its own, with absolutely no idea how to look or behave “right” in any of its disguises, and a tendency to become enraged once it becomes clear that it doesnt fit in.

calling card: a freelance musician struggling with being sincere and vulnerable in their own work decides to move to a small, quiet town in southern bumblefuck-nowhere to try and clear their head. to their surprise, they’ve practically moved onto the set of a musical--the town’s residents bursting into song at the drop of a hat out of what seems to be the sheer, earnest passion of their feelings. this pleasant novelty soon turns out to be a town tradition established to cope with the presence of lonesome harvey--an upright cicada-man who emerges from underground hibernation every 18 years to rip select peoples’ vocal chords right out of their throats, crudely tying them together in order to fashion a set powerful enough to function as his own (which he uses to shriek out his signature mating call every summers’ night, in hopes of attracting a partner who’ll never arrive). thus, the townsfolk sing their hearts out so that harvey can gauge whose voice he’ll claim for himself (as opposed to having him mutilate everyone in the name of trial-and-error), and the musician has moved into town just in time for ol’ harvey to make his return.

back of your mind: following the very-much-timely (if a tad mysterious) death of their verbally-abusive mother, her only child returns to their childhood home in order to collect any wayward belongings and maybe find some sort of closure in setting foot on the premises one last time. a patch of black mold on the wall that they spot on their way in seems to...change location, somehow. further investigation and attempts to simply wipe away the mold leave it in the blurred image of a gummy, toothy maw--one that begins to whisper to the visitor, claiming to have missed them oh-so-very-much from the day that they left. the strangeness of the situation keeps them coming back everyday, where the mold’s whispers begin to take a familiarly-cruel edge--at first pleading for the visitor to stay, only to take to yelling at them that no-one but the mold will accept them as the “broken, useless husk” of a person that they are.    

miasma: a long line of charlatans and conmen have managed to convince a small backwoods town over generations that their collection of plastic gems and false talismans will heal them better than any medical professional could ever hope to accomplish. with most of the towns residents now being old, grey, and complacently vulnerable to disease, a new con artist moving in with a case of the stomach flu compromises the health of the entire community. and with the enticing smell of illness, comes the arrival of the scavenger--a black-feathered “vulture man” who knocks three times upon the door of his intended target, before politely entering their residence and leaving within the hour, leaving behind a bloated corpse whose orifices are stuffed with posies laying otherwise peacefully on their bed.  

killing stroke: a promising rising star in the fencing scene is tragically slain in the middle of a prestigious tournament, with the cause of death being attributed to a recklessly-modified underplastron. in actuality, the poor youth’s equipment was sabotaged in order to maintain the career of a legendary fencer. on the anniversary of his death, he rises from the grave and dons his old suit in order to infiltrate that year’s iteration of the tournament--his mission being to cut down not only his rival, but anyone who upholds the same kind of narcissistic greed that claimed his life.  

disassembly line: an upton sinclair-adjacent investigative journalist finds herself looking into the inner workings of a 1900s meat-packing factory in chicago, beholding the full disgusting scope of its exploitative, unsanitary working conditions. managing to acquaint herself with a few of the workers, the lunchtime whispers of one particularly-attractive lady butcher point her in the direction of a devious cover-up involving a nameless employee who “accidentally” wound up in the machinery after making too much of a ruckus about his wages. a nameless employee whose steaming, ground-up remains have now crawled out of the rickety equipment in search of postmortem vigilante justice.    

catch of the day: in spite of the sustainability concerns their operation has racked up over the years, a deep-sea fishing company delves into nigh-uncontested territory--a patch of ocean deemed “dead waters” in reference to the sparse results of other companies’ attempts. their first day dredges up only a single pacific halibut, titanic even by the standards of the species. upon further inspection, the flatfish splits open in a mess of bodily fluids and blackened, inedible meat--as if the fish had already been torn apart and had decayed from the inside out. lost in the shuffle was an amniotic sac containing rapidly-growing, amphibious hagfish “mermaids” that had parasitized the halibut as they had almost all of the other fish in those waters, and that have now been unleashed on a lonely fishing boat sitting miles away from shore.    

razorback bridge: a group of teenaged, amateur paranormal enthusiasts livestream their first “investigation” into a local landmark--razorback bridge, rumored to be haunted by the murderous ghost of a local farmer whose crops were so frequently ruined by invasive wild boar that he snapped and devoted the rest of his natural life to slaying the hogs, eventually losing his life to a boar that proceeded to gobble up his remains without leaving a trace. although officials have long restricted access to that part of the woods due to the aggressive nature of the wild boar inhabiting the area, the teens manage to sneak their way onto the bridge and come face-to-face with ol’ rawhide himself--a ravenous, nigh-unstoppable half-man/half-boar that came to be when the hog that consumed the old farmer had its body possessed and warped by the man’s furious ghost, far too angry to accept even the prospect of his own death.    

vigor mortis: a kindly old mortician prides herself on her ability to restore bodies to exactly how they looked in life, enabling their families to have at least one source of comfort during the difficult coping process of loss. one day, however, she is presented with a body so badly mangled in an accident that she almost suggests to forgo embalming altogether and to simply refrigerate the corpse until the burial service, though she ultimately doesn’t when the distraught client begs for the process to be open-casket. try as she might, the mortician finds herself unable to make any substantial restoration on the body. in the few minutes that she steps away from the body in order to think of what else she could do, she turns back to find that it’s...vanished. she soon finds herself being pursued at every turn by the shambling corpse, now enshrouded in a body bag, and is forced to confront both a mangled revenant and a debilitating case of impostor syndrome.

making up for lost time: a conspiracy theory-themed convention is having its first go in philadelphia, pennsylvania--even hosting an artists’ alley selling everything from “ayyy lmao” keychains to collapsible foam JFK heads. when mysterious burn damage begins to show up on the property, however, the inflated egos of the guest panel speakers representing various “unorthodox investigation” groups not only refuse to give up on the convention, but are so prone to bickering amongst themselves and attempting to assume leadership that they only make it harder for the other attendees to respond to the threat of what seems to be a time traveler. that is, the victim of a first attempt at time travel so badly botched that she’s received what is mostly simply put as “space-time carpet burn”: not only is she burning, but her mind, her soul, and the very concept of her throughout space and time are burning, leaving the unreachable chrononaut in a frenzied panic that threatens to scorch everything she touches right out of existence along with her.    

pearly gates: in the midst of a national emergency, a group of local landlords manage to bully their recently-unemployed tenants into coughing up just enough rent to host a get-together at their luxurious gated community. following a constant sensation of being watched and drowsy recollections of blinding light shining through their windows that first evening, the group awakens the next day to find one of them dead--groveling on her hands and knees with her entire skull seeming to have somehow...inverted. they soon realize that they’re being picked off by an angel--one so enraged by their inhuman greed that it wrenched itself free from the heavens in order to exact furious retribution. 

frontera sangrienta: a softspoken chicanx youth sneaks across the american border on a nightly basis under the noses of both his immigrant parents and border patrol agents, for the express purpose of helping mexican migrants safely make their way over. one night, he is met with a family so terrified that he can make out only one word from their panic--”chupacabra”. the legendary mosquito has developed a taste for american blood after devouring careless tourists and escaped goats, and is in hot pursuit of the family considering that the mother is an american herself. the young man--a “mixed signal” to the chupacabra due to his conflicted feelings over thinking of himself as strictly american or mexican--is now the only thing standing between the family and a pitiful, bloody demise.

52: after a saturation diver is violently wrenched from their diving bell in a freak accident and their remains are presumed lost at sea, a marine salvage team is sent in by the chamber’s manufacturers under the surface-level orders to retrieve evidence for the investigation, but with the underlying message really being to “pick all that shit up so we can just sweep it under the rug quickly and quietly”. upon arrival, the crew begins picking up a bizarre frequency that would otherwise be regarded as whalesong...if not for the fact that it is much higher than the calls of any whales known to inhabit the area. the salvage team then finds themselves being picked off one by one by the source of the noise--it turns out that the saturation diver’s sheer will to live allowed their broken body to adapt to the ocean depths, taking on a warped form not too dissimilar to a beluga whale. now the former diver is left to lash out in frenzied desperation, screaming out a cry for help that falls deaf on the ears of both humans and sealife 

i am but a teenage fool who knows nothing about nothing so please do not dunk on me if nothing i wrote here has any accurate basis in real-world experiences or logic. also i’ll update with more if/whenever i think of any 

[1heartfanfics]

In It Together

“Andrew Johnson,”

Andrew stood up, still holding Zayn’s hand. He’d never liked going to the doctor, although he supposed no one probably did. But he was especially scared this time. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Zayn asked.

Andrew didn’t say anything, just nodded. 

“Yes you’re sure or yes you want me to come?” Zayn would’ve laughed a little at this normally but he could see the fear in Andrew’s eyes.

Andrew didn’t answer, but pulled Zayn out of the chair and started to walk towards the nurse who was looking around for him. Okay, option number two, Zayn thought to himself. 

“Hi Andrew, I’m Claire,” the nurse smiled, shaking Andrew’s hand. 

“I’m Zayn, his fiancee. He’s just a little nervous,” Zayn said, holding his hand out to shake hers as well. She nodded in understanding, giving them both a smile before leading them back down a hallway and into a room. 

Andrew gripped Zayn’s hand as they walked there, his knuckles white. Zayn frowned at him, even more worried now. No one likes going to the doctor obviously, but he didn’t know why Andrew would be this worried. Was there something Andrew hadn’t been telling him?

“Alright if you could sit up here Andrew, and then you can sit in either of those chairs,” Claire motioned towards the crinkly doctors office bed then nodded towards the chairs in the corner of the room. Zayn gave Andrew’s hand a reassuring squeeze before he let go, sitting down in the chair closest to Andrew. 

The nurse took Andrew’s temperature and blood pressure, then looked inside his mouth and his ears All the normal things. Vitals, Andrew had called them when he took his clinical class in the fall. 

“Alright, Dr. Keiley will be in to see you in a few minutes,” Claire said as she typed a few notes, then gave Andrew a reassuring smile before exiting the room.

“You alright?” Zayn asked, moving to stand beside Andrew. 

Andrew nodded, leaned his head against Zayn’s shoulder. 

“I don’t believe you. Talk to me Drew,” Zayn ran his fingers through Andrew’s messy hair. He usually had it all spiked up but today he was just letting it flop over his face. 

But before Andrew could answer there was a knock at the door. 

“Hi Andrew, I’m Dr. Keiley, and you must be the fiancee,” she shook Andrew’s hand then turned to look at Zayn.

“Yes ma’am, Zayn Kaissani,” he introduced himself, shaking her hand as well. Zayn gave Andrew’s shoulder a squeeze then sat back down in his chair, trying to calm his racing heart. Something weird was going on. 

“Alright Andrew, so it says that you’re here cause you’ve been having some skin sensitivity. Now your vitals look good, no fever, which can cause some sensitivity, but it doesn’t appear to be that. So how about you tell me what’s been going on?” Dr. Keiley asked, looking at the computer sitting on the desk she’d sat down at on one side of the office. 

“Um,” Andrew swallowed hard, “Well, normally it is when I get sick that it happens, but not always a fever. Like if my stomach hurts or something it happens then too. Or even just like if I have a cough or a sore throat or something,” he explained.

“Okay, so it comes after something else?” she asked. 

“Well, not after. Just at the same time as I guess,” Andrew shrugged.

“Can you try to explain what it feels like?” the doctor asked, making some notes on the computer.

Andrew thought for a moment, “I guess it’s kind of like when you have a sunburn, except not warm. But also kind of like pins and needles, like when your hand falls asleep or something.”

“And how severe is it?” she asked.

“It’s pretty bad. I can’t really stand clothes or sheets or anything and I have to just lay flat on my back pretty much without moving. And I can’t touch myself or let Zayn touch me,” his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He fidgeted in his seat, making Zayn wonder if it was bothering him right now. 

“Okay, and it only happens when you’re feeling ill?” she asked, not seeming to notice his discomfort. 

“Well,” Andrew sighed, “It used to be. But lately it’s been happening randomly,” he said. 

Zayn raised an eyebrow at him. Been happening? As in more than once? 

“Is there a certain time of day that it usually happens?” 

“At night I guess. But sometimes it happens other times too. After I eat a lot, cause my stomach kind of hurts. But it doesn’t usually get that bad unless I eat too much or feel sick or something,” he explained.

That was news to Zayn as well. 

“Okay, I’m going to ask you about some other symptoms and I want you to tell me if you’ve ever experienced them, either with the skin sensitivity or separately,” the doctor explained. “We’ll start with back or neck pain,” she continued.

“I mean yeah sometimes. At the same time but other times too,” he said. 

“Okay, what about fatigue or difficulty falling asleep,”

“I do get tired a lot, but I mean I think most people do,” Andrew shrugged. 

“He does have trouble falling asleep a lot,” Zayn interjected. Zayn was an insomniac, so he lay awake many nights feeling Andrew toss and turn as well. 

Andrew gave him a look, his eyes full of anxiety. Zayn smiled softly at him, telling him it was alright. They were gonna figure this out. That’s why there were here. 

“Okay, last ones. Muscle soreness or cramping or cold hands?” she asked. 

“Yeah my hands are cold all the time,” Andrew answered, “I don’t know about muscle cramps though. I mean I get sore from working out.”

“Alright, I want to do a blood test to rule out a couple other possibilities, but it sounds to me like you have fibromyalgia,” Dr. Keiley said. 

“Fiber-what?” Zayn asked, leaning forwards.

“Fibromyalgia,” Andrew answered, “it’s when a person’s brain amplifies signals of touch or other sensations and interprets them as pain,” he explained.

“Very good, you must be a medical student,” the doctor smiled.

“Uh premed, but I’m a CNA,” Andrew told her. 

“That’s awesome,” she nodded at him, “But yes, you are correct. It’s characterized by skin sensitivity, muscle or joint pain, difficulty sleeping, tiredness, and sometimes abdominal pain,” she explained.

“What can you do about it?” Zayn asked.

“Well, once we rule out some other things just in case, then I can do a full workup for a formal diagnosis. There isn’t a way to cure it or treat it so to speak, but the symptoms can be minimized by some lifestyle changes and there are some medications we can try,” she told them.

Andrew nodded, his face pale, eyes glassy with tears. Zayn stood up and put his arm around his fiancee, rubbing circles into Andrew’s shoulder with his thumb. He was obviously not reassured by the diagnosis.

“I’ll send someone in to get your bloodwork and then you boys can be on your way,” the doctor told them, standing up and opening the door.

“Thanks,” Zayn said before she shut the door. “Hey, you’re alright, this is good isn’t it? We know now?” he turned his attention to Andrew. 

“B-but, this is a c-chronic disease,” Andrew cried, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Oh honey,” Zayn reached over to wipe the tears off his cheeks with his sleeve, “It’ll be okay, we’ll take care of it,” he said softly. He wanted to be upset with Andrew, for not telling him how bad it was and that it had gotten even worse, but now was obviously not the time, so he pushed those feelings away. 

“You don’t under-understand,” his breath hitched as he tried to stop crying, “You can’t fix it. I’ll have it forever and it’ll j-just get w-worse,” he let out another sob.

“Shh, you’re okay Drew. I know it’s scary, I’m sorry,” Zayn wrapped Andrew up in his arms, letting him cry into his chest. Andrew was right, he had no idea what this thing meant really, he couldn’t even pronounce it. He did know one thing though, they were in this together. 

[ajbrooks-writes]

WIP Re-Intro: For The Crown

Book One of the Blood Ties trilogy

Heyo! Exactly what it says on the tin. A new and improved For The Crown with special edition features and up-to-date info! Also now with an official trilogy title: Blood Ties. Incredibly accurate.

Book One: For The Crown

Two young shapeshifters uncover generations of blood crimes as they attempt to change their own destiny. Masquerading amidst power plays and fickle allys, the prince and the pretender learn the meaning of family in a tale of love, loss, and the cost of challenging the stars.

Elthian and Ryvaeryn are from very different worlds, tied together by a bloody past. They are each given a single chance to attain their goals, but to do so must navigate a court full of lies, a country full of secrets, and a foe determined to keep both in the past.

Basics

Stage: Complete Structural Overhaul Review

Estimated Length: 135k

Genre: New Adult high fantasy

Themes: found family, adventure, self-discovery, romance, challenging status quo, challenging destiny.

More info

Orphaned as an infant and raised by humans on the continent, Ryn has never known another shapeshifter. A bookbinder by trade, she masquerades as a scholar and runs to the island country of Mantha, where she meets our team, and her resolve is tested when she is discovered and has a choice: go home to safety or join the court and risk it all.

Growing up in the castle with his father, brother and best friend, Elthian has known he would be king since he was a child. A planner by passion, Elthian’s progressive ideas clash with his father’s traditional values, placing them increasingly at odds. When his father threatens to change his successor, Elthian must choose between sacrificing the crown for his values and work, or sacrificing his values for the crown and power.

Ryvaeryn and Elthian’s journeys intertwine as they work towards their goals. Among the trials of their individual paths, they realise their growing friendship might be more than that. Now they must weigh their loyalties and, when discovered, understand that one false step could tear them apart forever.

Read on to learn about some of the characters and the next two books! Also cool graphics.

Welcome to part two!

Characters

Protagonist. Age 29, lion shapeshifter. Idealistic, compassionate, creative, naive. Elthian has a rocky past, but has landed on his feet with a father he idolises, an older half-brother he loves unconditionally, and a best friend he could not do without. His brother’s protection has left him naive to their father’s nature, but kept him from losing that idealism and compassion their father is so blatantly missing. Elthian’s biggest struggle is his own self-doubt, but his brother’s line “There are some things in this world you just can’t change.” kickstarts his determination to do exactly that. I love my son, but not make it easy.

Protagonist. Age 26, tiger shapeshifter. Impulsive, defensive, determined, kind. Safe in seclusion with her long term girlfriend, Ryn gives it up to journey to Mantha and find others like her. She is quick to defend herself and slow to reason, and so desperately wants to know who she is and where she came from that she will risk everything to find answers. This is made difficult when she becomes to target of assassination. See her right eye pictures above? That may or may not emerge intact . I love her, and I forge her fortitude in fire.

Secondary. Age 30, wolf shapeshifter. Quiet, perceptive, loyal. Joal spent half his childhood as a crown ward, becoming Elthian’s best and most loyal friend. His official role is Royal Historian and Heritage Law Consultant, and he lives at the castle. He is the first to realise Ryn isn’t a scholar. Joal isn’t ‘in touch’ with his emotions, which quickly creates a rift between him and Ryn. Joal has the largest role in Blood Ties after Ryn and Elthian.

Secondary. Age 32, human. Optimistic, intuitive, honourable. Kalen is the ultimate best friend. He is a great hugger, great listener, and gentle soul. He left the army  to pursue music, specifically the flute. Kalen is aro-ace, and his and Skye’s QPR is the most precious and pure dynamic I have ever seen. He becomes close friends with Ryn, we call him K, and I would die for him.

Tertiary. Age 35, lion shapeshifter. Discerning, protective, adventurous. Orrian paints himself as rebellious and unreliable, allowing him to pursue his interests in peace, and as a bonus giving his father frequent headaches. Orrian runs a shelter for homeless or orphaned boys and young men, mostly shapeshifters, and basically has a dozen adopted sons. He is also investigating his father, whom he loathes. Orrian has a much larger role in the next two books.

Tertiary. Age 21, crane shapeshifter. Shy, observant, attentive. Skye is very close with Kalen, and Ryn first meets her in a courtyard where Skye is playing violin. She struggles with anxiety and  PTSD, and attempts to create a support network in this book, which unfortunately backfires. Skye’s role will change a lot over the trilogy as she develops and grows and discovers her strength.

Tertiary. Age 24. human. Sarcastic, charming, realist. Corri meets Ryn early in town, and they become friends quickly. She loves to have a good time, and encourages Ryn to do the same. If the cellars are stocked, right? Corri has a brief, secret fling with Joal in this book. She also frequently makes time to spend with the children at the castle - much better company than nobles.

Tertiary. Age 64, lion shapeshifter. Assertive, determined, commanding. Parthian rules with iron, currently with his third wife. He pushed Orrian to abdicate, and has spent the last decades grooming Elthian to be a more worthy successor. Parthian is struggling under the weight of (subjectively) poor past choices. His sons take more from him than they’d like.

Side. Age 34, human. Calming, authentic, passionate. Lowe and Ryn were together for three years, and lived together for most of that. She knows Ryn’s aspirations, fears and hopes and supports her move to Mantha. Lowe will have a larger role in the next two books, but will crop up a few times in this one, too.

Side. Age 9, shapeshifter. Shy, curious, adventurous. Pab is an orphan, and has lived at the castle her entire life. She is friends with Corri, and becomes a loyal friend of Ryn’s after a vandalism mishap. Pab will climb literally anything. She scales two storeys of old stone to break into Ryn’s room. Ryn and Pab’s bond strengthens over the trilogy, and we learn more about her family later on.

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The World:

For The Crown takes place primarily in Mantha, an island country about the size of France. It has several smaller ilsands scattered around it., and across a strait is a mainland spanning an area close to that of Russia, which is where Ryn is from. Skye and Joal are from the North and South islands around Mantha respectively..During this book, the court travels around the country to various estates, under the guise of a ‘royal tour’, in which Parthian speaks to the leaders and the people and try to assure them that the monarchy has their best interest’s at heart. It gives Elthian the opportunity to find the progressive among them, and Ryn the opprtunity to explore different libraries and estates, including a ruined city, searching for answers.

Mantha is a feudal society originally settled by shapeshifters, which Parthian encourages, because they are easier to control. The continent, all humans, is meanwhile approaching an early industrial age; they have a direct democracy, with all the people having a voice. Mantha works with alchemy, whereas the continent works with technology. They have minimal overlap, but for trade and transport, things like air travel crosses their cultures.

This means I can have steampunk airships flying over my feudal farmland. The dream.

If you would like to know anything else about their culture, feel free to shoot an ask my way!

Rest of the trilogy:

For The King

After the bittersweet end to For The Crown, Ryn and Elthian try to recover the trust of the Manthan people as Elthian begins a shaky rule. But when the new king is kidnapped, it’s up to Ryn, Orrian, Kalen and Joal to race across the continent to save him, finding help from old friends along the way. Meanwhile, in a deep underground prison, Elthian meets new allies and foes as his captors attempt to break him, and he plans a daring escape or three. For The King is significantly darker, and ready to be drafted. You can read this wip intro here.

For The Country

Following a narrow escape, Ryn, Elthian, their new allies and remaining friends journey back to Mantha only to discover it has been overrun! With Elthian’s confidence shattered and Ryn struggling to stay afloat, For The Country has them and their team racing to rally their people against an approaching enemy while they battle fire, uprising, discord and disease. In the conclusion of this epic fantasy, everyone comes together for the battle that will decide Mantha’s future.

Final comments:

Can’t believe I managed, finally, to finish this intro.

I’m going to try and participate more in wip and OC related things, and post more about my story when life allows. I hope you enjoyed it, congrats on getting to the end, and have a great day!

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For The Crown tag list:

 @trigwrites @jessicacaseyauthor @mfackenthal @mushwrites @b-works-074  @gardeningourmet @apocalyvse @jcckwrites @writingisdivinetorture  @purpleshadows1989 @thatwritergirlsblog @betwixtofficial @pen-in-hand @whynotwriting @bookish-actor @sunlight-and-starskies @jcckwrites @half-explored @watermelons-writings @purpleshadows1989 @crazycoffeemermaid​ @summerflowers

Blood Ties taglist:

@whisperswritings @stand-inthe-rain @fantasy-shadows @halrose @romanticatheart-posts @hopefulmoonobject @angelolytle @albarnesauthor @fantasy-penman @ofinscriptions @jynecca @venomouspen @k-nazario​ @raenawrites @s-n-o-w-p-i-e-r-c-e-r​ @the-starlight-chills​ @crazycoffeemermaid​ @ardawyn​ @bookish-actor​ @waterfallofinkandpages​ @the-writister​ @thewriteblrarchives​

(if you would like to be added or removed from the Blood Ties tag list, please let me know. Also if I’ve missed anyone I’m really sorry, could you let me know please thank youx)

[hedwigstalons]

Joining The Dots

Alan got annoyed that his contribution to Tracy Prize was limited to a few smart ass comments and some eye rolls.  The kid decided to get all dramatic as revenge.

 xoxoxox

 Alan stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The angry red spot on his jaw line stared back at him.  Sometimes being a teenager sucked.  He debated whether to just ride it out but he wasn’t in the mood for the inevitable teasing from Gordon.  

 He felt tired and irritable. ��Perhaps he ought to cut back on the late night gaming.  His skin was paler than usual and the dark circles under his eyes only served to accentuate the pimple.  Grabbing the small tube of concealer from the back of his cabinet Alan made a passable job of covering up the welt.  

He ventured into the kitchen but nothing tempted him. The distracted opening and closing of cupboard doors drew the attention of Scott who was working his way through his own post-run breakfast.

 “You ok there Allie?”

 “Yeah, just not really hungry.”

 Now Scott was worried.  The calorific intake of the International Rescue operatives was phenomenal. Alan normally had the double hit of typical teenage appetite added to the hunger born of having a physically demanding job.  If he wasn’t hungry something was probably wrong.  

 Scott passed a closer eye over his youngest sibling. He noted the pale complexion and drooping eyelids.

 “Are you sure you’re ok?”

 “I’m fine.  Just a bit of a headache, that’s all.  I’ll grab a couple of tablets from the infirmary and maybe head back to bed for a while.”

 “No.  You go straight back to your room now and I’ll fetch the tablets.  You look dead on your feet.”

 Anal nodded gratefully, wincing slightly at the motion. The bright sunshine through the panoramic windows was suddenly feeling just that little bit too bright.  He scratched distractedly at an itch on the back of his neck and felt another lump.  He must be run down if he was getting a full on acne breakout.  Alan trudged back to his room and collapsed onto the bed.

 When Scott entered the dimly lit sanctuary a short while later his smothering instincts went into overload.  For a start the teenager was on the bed rather than the floor and this alone was enough to rouse suspicions that it was more than just a simple headache troubling him.  

 Alan seized upon the offered water and painkillers and gulped them down rapidly.  A steady hand was placed against his forehead, checking his temperature.

 “Well bed is definitely the right place for you” his eldest brother said kindly.  “Come on, get those clothes off and get into bed properly.”

 Alan grimaced but the look on Scott’s face showed he wasn’t going to leave until Alan had complied.  He pulled his shirt off over his head and dumped it over the side of the bed onto the floor.  The moving material felt rough and itchy against him and he scratched at his arms and chest.

 “Whoa, Allie.  That’s not good.”  The alarm and concern in Scott’s voice was clear to hear.

 Alan looked down at himself.  The exposed skin was marred by angry dots.  The start of an unidentified rash was spreading across his body.

 “Infirmary.  Now. We need to get you into quarantine.”

 Pausing only long enough for some pyjamas to be gathered up Alan found himself marched to the infirmary.  His body now ached and the itch was spreading.  It was a relief to finally slip between the cool white sheets and sink back to sleep it the darkened room.

 xoxoxox

 Scott was worried.  Worried for both his family and the organisation that they kept running on minimal manpower.  Alan was going to be off duty for an unknown amount of time and they had no idea what was ailing the teen.

 He looked through the observation window into the infirmary. Alan looked even younger than normal. The washed out skin would be barely distinguishable from the white linen if it wasn’t for the bright red spots. Spots that had rapidly multiplied until every inch of him was covered in the mystery rash.

 Full quarantine had been implemented.  Alan was sealed off with any visitors forced to wear bio-hazard suits.  It felt like an extreme reaction but they couldn’t risk an infection spreading, especially since they didn’t know what they were dealing with.  

 Even Scott was isolated and under observation in case he had already contracted the disease.  He paced about the room like a caged tiger.  He felt fine but until they had answers it wasn’t worth the risk.  He might be confined to quarters but that didn’t stop the Commander from taking charge of the situation.

 He opened a link to Thunderbird Five.  “John, I want you and Eos to analyse Alan’s mission logs. Go through every instance he has left the island in the last four weeks.  Cross reference this with any local medical board reports on disease outbreaks.  Let’s see if we can’t work out what he has been exposed to.”

 His next contact was to Brains.  The scientist and medic had already drawn blood samples from his patient and was working hard to identify the cause of Alan’s illness.

 “Any progress Brains?”

 “N-n-negative, Scott.  I b-b-believe the cause is viral but I am finding it d-d-difficult to identify the specific strain.  Once John has c-c-compiled a list of options I c-c-can narrow down the testing.”

 “I understand.  Just keep trying.”

 xoxoxox

 Brains was at a loss.  Normally the Tracys were a robust and healthy bunch.  Medical intervention tended to fall into the ‘patch it and stitch it’ category with maybe the occasional concussion thrown in for variety.  Actual illness on the island was a rarity.

 A blood sample drawn from Alan had confirmed Brains’ suspicions that Alan was harbouring a virus.  The virus was currently developing in a cell culture in the laboratory.  Once this had been completed he would be able to sequence the virus genome and identify the culprit.  These stages took time though.  As many of the process involved were automatic he settled down with Alan’s medical file to see if that would yield any answers.

 Alan’s file was impressively thick despite his youthfulness.  Every ailment and injury was detailed.  The results of every annual medical were contained in thorough reports.  Each vaccination and booster received was listed; a list that was more comprehensive than for the average individual due to the need to be able to undertake missions in every geographic regions. Many illnesses had been eradicated through global health programmes but there was still a need vaccinations. Alan hated injection days.

 Brains delved back further into the childhood records, tacked on as an appendix to the main report.

 Brains scoured the list, blinked, and checked it again.  

 There was one glaring omission from the vaccine list. One that he had never even thought to administer because it was normally dealt with in toddlerhood, long before he had taken over the youth’s medical care.  The varicella vaccine.

 It wasn’t conclusive proof of what Alan was suffering from but it gave him a starting point for his investigations and it could yield answers faster than trying to conduct a genome sequencing from scratch.

 He checked in with John to see if there was any chance his hunch could be correct.  A quick test of the sample now he knew what he was looking for, confirmed his suspicions.

 xoxoxox

 Scott was restless and agitated.  His baby brother was sick and he was powerless to help. He couldn’t even sweat out his agitation in the gym until Brains had cleared him as free from the illness that had struck down Alan.

 He leapt to his feet when the door to the isolation room opened.

 Scott relaxed slightly when Brains appeared. The lack of bio-hazard suit showed that the medic had good news for him.

 “You are c-c-clear to leave, Scott.  You aren’t contagious”

 “Does this mean you have worked out what it is that Allie has?”

 He looked through the observation at his brother who was scratching at the spots even in his sleep.

 “Yes.  Alan has chicken p-p-pox.”

 “Chicken pox?  How on earth has he managed to pick that up.  We were all vaccinated against that as kids.”

 “John suspects the source of the infection was that luddite c-c-community Alan went to help last w-w-week.”

 “That doesn’t explain why Alan caught it though.”

 “Alan was never v-v-vaccinated.  His early records show the appointment w-w-was made but Alan never went and it was n-n-never followed up.”

 “But Dad was always so thorough about these things.”

 “It wasn’t your father that m-m-made the appointment. Your m-m-mother did.  Alan should have had his shots the w-w-week after your skiing holiday.  Under the circumstances…”

 Brains tailed off.  Scott didn’t need any help remembering that time period in their lives. It was obvious which holiday Brains was alluding to.  That holiday had changed their lives forever.  The moment when their mother had been cruelly snatched away by the avalanche.  It was small wonder that the routine appointment had been missed.  The family had bigger concerns at the time than a two year olds injections.  Their father probably hadn’t even been aware of the appointment.

 “So what does this mean now?”

 “The g-g-good news is that everyone else on the island has immunity.  The b-b-bad news is that chicken p-p-pox can be worse the older you c-c-contract it. Alan will be very unwell for about t-t-two weeks and will then need recovery t-t-time.”

 Scott looked through the glass to the limp form in the next room.  He cursed himself that something so simple had been overlooked and now Alan was paying the price.  At least he was now cleared to care for his baby brother.

 Scott hurried through to the main part of the infirmary to do what he did best; looking after his family.

[student-yuki]

this chat gave me a little idea in my head on how this would go with my mc that wouldn’t get out until i wrote it so here we go

word count: 1,014

Why. Why, why, why. Why? Why did they say they’d help Leviathan pick out normie clothes? And why didn’t they try to get Asmodeus to come along? Sure, they could say they were a little bit fashionable, they were the child of a long line of fabric makers after all, but all that meant for them was that they could fit clothes and know their way around a needle…but throwing colors and patterns into the mix made their head sink in hazardous waters. Yet, when confronted by the demon, there was no way they could say “no”.

Their first impression on Leviathan wasn’t the greatest. They were put-off by him calling himself an otaku, he wasn’t Japanese, and found his behavior to be too brash. But as they got to know him their opinion changed almost drastically. First, there was no point in being upset with him saying he was an otaku, he was a demon and demons probably didn’t nationalities so that wasn’t anything to get caught up on. And while they still found him to be a little harsh at times, they found his quirks to be unique and fun.

His smile when talking about TSL? Stunning. The way his words rushed out when explaining the plot of his new video game? Astonishing. When he used internet speech in real life? Endearing. Leviathan went from annoying to one of their closest companions much faster than they thought possible. Not to mention all of the new media he introduced them to from the Devildom, especially Mononoke Island; those nights where he dragged them out to catch rare spirits may have left them sleepless but that didn’t matter when facing that dumb grin Leviathan would wear while showing off his D.D.D.

And sure they could face down Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, fire burning in his eyes as his wings beat rapidly in anger with only minimal violent shaking and dizziness — that wasn’t as intimidating as facing down the glittering aura of Majolish, even if the excited vibrations coming from the awkward demon were enough to encourage them before it sure wasn’t anymore.

“So,” Levi’s words startled them out of their mind, “where do we start?”

“Uh,” they trailed off, glancing around the sections of clothes, taking their time in inspecting almost every single article hanging on the racks. Levi continued to look down at them, a fact they barely registered until their eyes finally met his.

Answer. Answer. Answer you idiot! They could feel the blood vanishing from their face as their forehead and cheeks chilled. Words tried to form in their throat but fizzled out by the time they reached their tongue. How much time had already passed? Oh, god, they needed to say something now!

“Wh-what color do you want to wear?” IDIOT.

“W-well, I guess ideally I’d like to stay with the colors I normally wear, so, oranges, yellows, and blues I guess.”

Well fuck.

Then again, there was probably no answer that they would be able to handle. But they  could turn this around, they had to, there was no other choice, they had to say something. Say something. Say something. Say something!

“What kind of style are you looking for?”

“Uh, normie style?”

“Okay, well,” oh there was work to do here. “Let’s start with some general questions about the venue. Do you know how big it is?”

“Uh, big?”

“Do you have any idea on how many people might be there?”

“Too many,” Levi grumbled, a dark look passing over his face. Time to move on fast.

“Well let’s say it’ll be a full convention then. Do you know if the place in air conditioned? Or if you’ll be waiting outside for any time?”

“It should be air conditioned, and I don’t think there will be any outside waiting.”

“Perfect! Then we can start with looking for long sleeves or light jackets!” With that, they grabbed his hand and started to drag him off. “Stop me when you see something that looks good!”

Oh god.

—

“What do you think of these together?”

“Maybe?”

So…things weren’t going very well. They were wishing that Asmodeus, or even Mammon, was there to help. Was that an orange shirt with a blue jacket or a yellow shirt with a green jacket? The style was the same, the two of them had narrowed it down enough to be able to stay in the same area and not wander around much; but colors remained to be chosen.

It was their most challenging battle yet.

“Wh-why don’t you j-just go with what you, you want?”

“But I want your opinion!” Levi’s whining would have been cute if it weren’t for the fact that they wanted to entire building to just…combust into flames? Collapse inwards onto them and bury them in the rubble? Have a complete electrical failure? Whatever.

“I-I know! B-but you’re-re the one who will be wearing them! An-and I-I don’t think it’ll ma-matter too much! Choo-choose what you, you want!”

“Hm,” Levi held up the clothes to inspect them, taking the pressure away for a relieving, breathable moment. At least until he looked back at them, eyes pleading. “But what do you think?”

“Honest?” Confidence, where did you go confidence.

“Honest!”

“If you’re too concerned with colors, just go with black and white.” Good old monochrome never let them down.

“Like you do?”

“Y-yeah!” Aaand they were probably blushing now, nice! “I mean, that way you don’t have to worry about matching colors and wear whatever you want.”

Levi seemed to think about it for a bit, then put the clothes back on the racks. “That’s not a bad idea, I guess.”

And there was that sweet rush of relief that they craved so much as Levi went to pull out some black, white, and gray versions. The two of them went from there. It seemed like smooth sailing to the checkout. Until Levi asked about accessories.

“Do I look like I know anything about accessories?”