#who's that behind those foster grants?

[sohannabarberaesque]

Talk about your "climb to the clouds," and with Tom and Jerry besides!

It just seemed a little out of the ordinary for such a cat-and-mouse chase team like Tom and Jerry to make their way to New Hampshire's Presidential Range of the White Mountains and attempt what could be the acme of cat-and-mouse chases.

But they did ... even considering Mount Washington's notoriety for rough weather as gives it the nickname "Misery Hill" and the 138 winding turns of the Mt. Washington Auto Road (7.6 miles, climbing 4,200 feet from the Toll Gate to the Mt. Washington summit) on whose side the chase was pulled off. Pulled off by way of sneaking past the Toll Gate as is traditionally seen as Mile 0 thereof off Route 16 in New Hampshire and, in line with sound practice, facing oncoming (downhill, know) traffic on the left-hand side of the Auto Road. Some of it bound to be stopped because of overheated brakes, the bane of driving downhill in steep terrain like Mt. Washington.

Yet considering the comparitive sizes of a mouse like Jerry (whose eyes would be closer to the ground) and a cat like Tom (whose size was bound to cause him to be distracted from time to time by the panoramics of the Presidential Range, made worse by want of guardrails along the highway, tight "hairpin" turns, grades ranging from 12-18% throughout, with a 22% incline just before the summit, increasing altitude and reduced oxygen levels on the ascent--and increased UV levels from the thinner air at high elevations, with the potential for eye damage without proper sunglasses.

Even if it meant having to dodge cars parked to cool off the brakes from time to time (as well as passing at least three electric vehicles heading downhill who have it easy thanks to regenerative braking systems), having to as much catch wind as take in the panorama on occasion and adjust to the sharp turns on occasion on a now-paved-throughout highway ... as well as Jerry having some sense in putting on decent Foster Grants shortly after beginning the ascent, with Tom fumbling for cheap such he got from some second-rate gift shop a few miles back, eventually to be his unravelling when the cat got distracted by as much bright sunlight as a spectacular view down a ravine close to treeline, causing him to fall down and stumble.

Yet it seemed rather amazing how such a mouse as Jerry could make it through such otherwise gruelling conditions in the heighth of the summer season after Tom's misfortune got the better of him ... leaving you to wonder how such a mouse could manage the final 22% uphill ascent just before the summit, trying to catch the last bit of wind by the Tip Top House, considered more or less to be the top of Mt. Washington.

Followed by Jerry's crossing paths with cousin Nibbles on the observation deck of the Sherman Adams Summit House, a cup of some hot cappuccino to warm and regenerate before heading down by way of the Mt. Washington Cog Railway--through the courtesy of an engineer on one of the Cog Railway's homebuilt biodiesel engines, catching wind on the descent even as they passed beside one of the steamers making the uphill climb and smelling such heavenly fragrance as coal smoke.

As for Tom ... a training drill for mountain rescue crews was being carried out later that evening, and the dazed and bruised body of the cat, still trying to catch wind, was gathered and brought to a heliambulance parked slightly downhill in a clearing. Imagination will need to fill in the details ensuing.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Remindst thou of Penelope Pitstop in a way?

The Washington Post, Washington DC, May 23, 1920

[chubby-bun-bun]

heavy is the crown

As princess, you are bound by duty to marry the notorious and elusive Onichynus general, in exchange for his protection of your kingdom from an impending war. On the night of your wedding, tradition demands that you undergo the consummation rites, sealing the fate of your marriage—and your future.

tags: sylus x reader, NSFW, MDNI, royalty!au, general-of-powerful-nation!sylus x princess-of-kingdom-in-trouble!reader, first time sex (mc is a virgin), unprotected sex, afab!reader, fem!reader, slight voyeurism & somno & cockwarming at the end, lowkey breeding kink, gender-based stereotypes against women due to the time period, writing this has been a fever dream, word count: 2.7k~ worldbuilding and 5.5k~ smut lmfao

read on ao3

You dared to dream once upon a time.

You dreamt of crossing oceans beyond your shores, sailing aboard majestic galleons you’d only seen in textbooks. In the quiet solitude of your bedchambers, you imagined laughing with the townsfolk of distant cities, dancing in cobblestone streets to the melodies of traveling minstrels, and finding love in a modest man who'd want nothing more than to offer you freshly picked blooms every morning.

In the sanctuary of sleep, your dreams would lull you with visions of a simple life. A stone-walled kitchen warmed by the glow of a crackling hearth, a garden vibrant with blossoms and fresh produce, and a cozy reading nook nestled in an arched window. A loyal companion would sometimes join you—a slothful cat, a melodious songbird, a high-spirited pup, or a darling mare to carry you through grassy plains and wildflower fields.

"Do you take this man to be your wedded husband, to share in life's trials and joys, to love and honor, till death do you part?"

But such dreams have no place in the heart of a woman whose shoulders bear her kingdom's fate.

And so, as you take in the muted glow of the setting sun through delicate ivory lace, you finally put those girlhood fantasies to rest.

“I do.”

—

Being the youngest and only princess came with its fair share of trials and triumphs.

Unlike the elder princes, whose lives revolved around grueling expectations and fierce competition for the throne, your position spared you such burdens. Born to a queen who had long believed her childbearing years were behind her, you were nothing short of a miracle, arriving over a decade after your last sibling. This had earned you the undivided affection of the entire castle, leaving you thoroughly indulged and doted upon.

However, growing up without siblings near your age, you often grappled with bouts of loneliness. While you had fostered polite acquaintances among the daughters of many nobles, you found their company wearisome. The endless succession of balls and garden parties always seemed to revolve around the same gossip: politics, fashion, whispers about some baron’s sixteen-year-old daughter betrothed to a forty-year-old viscount, and, of course, the inevitable question: had anyone received a marriage proposal yet?

You naturally had many—to your dismay.

The idea of marriage filled you with profound dread. As a girl tagging along in your mother’s tea parties, you had often overheard the confessions and lamentations of the noblewomen. Stories of infidelity, neglect, and abuse spilled from their lips—duchesses, marchionesses, and countesses; women who stood at the very summit of high society. To you, marriage seemed less a sacred bond and more a cruel sentence—one far grimmer than the gallows.

At least the gallows granted the mercy of a quick death.

But as a princess, you were bound to uphold the ideal image of a young lady. One who radiated beauty, yet with grace and poise. Intelligent, but subservient to your intended husband’s authority. And, most important of all, fertile—to bear him strong sons who would carry on his legacy.

It sickened you. You would rather succumb to the plague than endure such a miserable life. But given your title, you could only try to delay the inevitable.

And so, life continued as it was—a never-ending cycle of social gatherings, fending off suitors, reading through your library, mastering languages, and nurturing a growing collection of hobbies. It was a life of privilege and routine—one that, despite its predictability, offered you a quiet sense of fulfillment.

Alas, nothing holds constant in the world, and change arrived in the form of a looming war from enemies across the sea.

Though small in size, your kingdom of Noir was a veritable treasure trove. With its abundant mountains and rivers, the island was never in short supply of precious metals, gems, and rare minerals. It was renowned for producing the finest artisans, who crafted the most exquisite jewelry, armor, and weapons. While modest in territory, it more than compensated with a thriving and prosperous economy.

The ultimate conquest for any conqueror.

Through the town streets worn smooth by centuries of footfalls, the bustling plazas lined with charming merchant stalls, the outskirt villages tucked among lush woodlands, and even the weathered stone walls of the towering castle, whispers had always flowed like an unrelenting tide—the most persistent being rumors of the neighboring kingdoms readying to seize Noir at any moment. But your father never addressed such hearsays, and life within the island always seemed as jovial and peaceful as it always did.

Until one night, as you sat engrossed in some book about Noir folklore, a series of sharp knocks on your chamber doors shattered the stillness, echoing sharply through the room.

It was your father, the king. Dropped to his knees, grasping your untainted hands in his rough, weathered ones, head bowed down at your mercy.

“Forgive me, my daughter,” he said in grief. “For the sake of the people—please, forgive me.”

For months, naval scouts had reported sightings of warships at the docks of two neighboring kingdoms, suspected of plotting to raid Noir and usurp the throne. Only a few weeks ago, those suspicions were confirmed when spies returned with dire news. The enemy militaries, vast and far stronger than your own, were preparing for a siege. Noir's true power had always been in the arts and commerce, not in its military might. Should your shores be attacked by an enemy nation—let alone two—the island would fall.

So on the very day the confirmation arrived, your father and the high court conspired to seek assistance from a nation on the mainland: Onichynus.

Conversations about the state were always hushed, spoken in whispers and laden with caution. It was rumored to be an immensely powerful dominion, even surpassing that of the hostile forces looming beyond your shores. Drunk sailors boasted of its staggering wealth, built on the spoils of their wars and ceaseless conquest. With an unmatched army of hardened warriors and mercenaries, it stood as a force to be reckoned with, its presence both feared and revered across the seas.

At its pinnacle stood their elusive general, a shadow whose name and true face remained unknown. Tales from sailors, traveling merchants, and tavern songs painted him as a ruthless figure, demon-like, who laid waste to rotten cities and beheaded corrupt kings. Some claimed he was a hero, purging the realm of wicked men in power, while others saw him as the embodiment of evil, leaving destruction and death in his wake.

Negotiations with Onichynus were a success. In return for their protection during the impending siege, Noir pledged to deliver three ships laden with its most prized metals, minerals, and gems—every year for the next century.

But to ensure Noir upheld its end of the bargain, their beloved princess would be bound in marriage to the general.

You could only keep your gaze steady, chin held high, as the king knelt before you, weeping, begging for your forgiveness.

You had your time to relish the pleasures of living as a princess. Now, it was time to fulfill your duties as one.

—

The night before the long-anticipated siege had arrived. After weeks of frantic planning and tense negotiations between Noir’s high court and the Onichynus war council, warriors and mercenaries had taken their positions across the island. Some blended seamlessly with the civilians, while the majority remained hidden in plain sight, their numbers concentrated along the docks.

In the king’s throne room, select members from both factions gathered for final preparations. Clad in his battle regalia, your father seemed a shadow of his former self—skin ashened, eyes hollow with exhaustion—yet his voice remained firm as he issued his commands to all present.

The Noir court members could hardly conceal their unease under the watchful eyes of the Onichynus war council. Towering and broad-shouldered, they seemed almost otherworldly. Their dark, burnished steel armor bore engravings of monstrous creatures, and many donned cloaks of crimson or black, their edges deliberately singed to resemble fire's touch. Helmets, adorned with jagged horns, cast grotesque shadows, while those who forwent them revealed faces with jagged streaks of war paint, as if to mimic claw marks.

Then, the heavy doors groaned open, spilling thick tendrils of black-red mist into the chamber. A hush fell as all eyes turned toward the towering figure that emerged from the haze.

The general.

For all the whispered tales of his demonic appearance—horns as tall as claymores, wings that spanned the heavens, and a tail that stretched like a river—you were stunned to find a face not of a monster, but of an angel.

Against the backdrop of his dark cloak, his striking silver hair stood out in sharp contrast. His features were sculpted with precision—high, defined cheekbones, a strong jawline, a straight nose, all framed by an expression that revealed little, save for full lips drawn into a tight line. The people of Noir gawked openly, stunned to finally see the man from the tales in the flesh. His gait was languid yet exuded confidence as he strode toward the throne where you sat beside your father.

His gaze found yours, and you stilled.

The deep scarlet of his eyes was piercing. You almost felt naked under it. Instantly, you straightened in your seat, fingers twitching to smooth the fabric of your dress.

“Expect the warships to be visible in six hours,” he said, his voice cutting through the room. The low timbre of it sent a chill racing up your spine.

“General, are you certain our forces are enough to handle their fleet?” your mother asked, voice quivering as she addressed him from your father’s other side.

The general's lips curved faintly, a low, rumbling chuckle escaping him.

“Rest easy, Your Majesty. By dawn, their remains will have joined their forefathers’ ghosts beneath the sea."

—

You had come to realize that Onichynus truly deserved the fear and respect it commanded. Just before daybreak, the gut-wrenching blare of Noir’s watchtower horns finally shattered the unnerving stillness of the island.

The enemies had fallen.

You had been locked away in one of the castle’s tower chambers, away from harm’s reach. As the kingdom’s key to securing this alliance, it was critical that no harm befell the general's betrothed.

After the second wave of victory horns, your door creaked open, revealing your maidservant—frantic, breathless from the long climb up the spiral staircase.

“Your Highness,” she gasped, voice trembling. “We’ve won.”

You could see the restraint in the way her nails dug into her apron, her blown pupils amidst her ragged breaths. She was restraining herself, her elation held in check, out of deference to you.

After all, Noir’s freedom had come at the cost of yours.

With a wistful smile, you turned toward the window, watching the flickering torchlights snake through the streets below. The chorus of jubilant cries and chants carried through the valleys, their voices rising to the heavens and echoing back from the mountain’s deepest crevices.

“It seems we have,” you murmured, voice barely audible over the chorus of celebration below.

You heard her hesitant shuffle behind you. "Several of the servants have been briefed already. They shall be ready tomorrow morning to begin preparations for the wedding."

You spun toward her, pulse pounding in your ears. "So soon?"

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet your eyes. "Onichynus wanted to complete the rites as quickly as possible, so they could sail for the mainland the following day."

You let out a slow exhale. "I see."

Your maidservant hesitated, her eyes flicking toward you, before she spoke again.

"If it offers you any comfort, ma'am," she said softly, head bowed, "you saved all of us."

You swallowed hard, forcing back the sting of tears threatening to spill.

—

Like your mother, grandmother, and all the royal women before you, you had always envisioned your wedding as a day of grandeur. You pictured riding through the town streets in the royal carriage, flanked by guards, waving to the cheering crowds. You imagined wearing a bespoke gown that sparkled in the light, a train so long it would sweep behind you like a royal procession.

You imagined trumpets announcing your arrival, their triumphant notes echoing through a hall packed with dignitaries and nobility from across the realm. And at the altar, a man of honor and equal standing would wait for you, his gaze warm with affection as you joined in a union built on love, not duty.

But now—the sun has nearly set, painting the grand temple in muted amber light. Inside, the space feels hollow, adorned only by a few hurriedly arranged flowers, their disarray a testament to the servants' exhaustion from cleaning up the siege’s destruction. Your gown, though lovely, is no custom-made masterpiece—just a window display piece hastily altered by the royal dressmaker. The pews stand mostly empty, save for your crestfallen family, a handful of somber faces from the Noir high court, and the ever-stoic Onichynus war council.

Your husband-to-be, still clad in his dark battle regalia, stands steadfast at your side, his expression an impenetrable mask as the archbishop intones the ceremonial rites. You had imagined him to be someone hard to look at—perhaps as old as a grandfather, his years as a general etched into every line of his face, and his figure weighed down by indulgent vices. Yet, to your quiet relief, he is nothing of the sort. Even if he proves unsavory as a husband or father to your future children, at least he’s pleasing to look at.

“By the will of fate, you are now bound in union,” the High Priest finally says, raising his palms toward you both. “May your allegiance to one another be as steadfast as the duties you carry, and may this union bring the future of your realms to prosperity.”

—

You wince as an elderly maidservant struggles to loosen a particularly stubborn knot in your hair, the pull jerking your head painfully. She pauses, her hand gently patting the spot in apology.

Your gaze stays fixed on the cold, flatstone floor, and you hardly notice the other maidservants bustling around you. One smooths out the faint creases in your satin nightdress, while another tugs at the neckline, pulling it lower to expose more of your cleavage and collarbone. Beneath the thin fabric, your undergarments have been removed, leaving you vulnerable to the biting chill of the room. You’ve been scrubbed clean, coated in the silkiest lotions, each scent more intoxicating than the last—all for your first night with your new husband.

“Are you nervous, Your Highness?” the elderly maidservant asks, her hands gentle as she brushes through your hair.

You pause, the question settling in your chest as you ponder how to answer.

“I can’t say I’m confident,” you say, twisting your fingers together. “I’ve never been with a man before.”

In the mirror, you catch the discreet glances exchanged behind you, their pity and concern barely hidden. You force yourself to look away, but the weight of their silent judgment lingers.

“The Onichynus general… he seemed like such a massive man,” a younger maidservant whispers, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I do hope he treats Her Highness with kindness.”

Another maidservant scoffs, her tone sharp with bitterness. “All men are beasts, driven only by their lust for control—and for anything with a pair of breasts.”

There’s a collective hiss of disapproval from the others, but the harsh words still echo in your mind. You fight to keep your face composed, though your heart aches with fear.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” the elderly maidservant says, her voice light. “The men from that state may be known for their ruthlessness, but with your likeness, the general will surely find himself a changed man.”

You can only hope the same.

Soon after, you begin your walk to the matrimonial room. The maidservants fall in step around you, their presence a quiet shield.  The lively chatter from your earlier preparations has faded, replaced by a tense, almost somber silence. Despite the considerable distance between rooms, the walk feels too short, each step too swift. Before you can fully gather your bearings, you now find yourself alone, sitting on the bed, the weight of the night settling in around you.

You shouldn’t feel this nervous. Women across the realm are bound to face this, especially those of royal blood. Consummation on the wedding night is an expectation, a duty. No matter how much you’ve dreaded or tried to avoid it, you’ve always known it was inevitable. All that’s left now is to steel yourself, strive to please your husband, and to embrace your role as a future mother—for Noir’s sake.

The doors swing open, and you flinch. The general steps inside, his damp hair clinging to his face, a clear sign of a recent bath. His attire for the evening is simple: loose trousers and a tunic that, despite its modesty, does little to hide the breadth of his shoulders or the strong lines of his chest. Your gaze betrays you, lingering longer than it should, tracing the way the fabric shifts with his movements. His towering height seems to diminish even the vast expanse of the room, making the high ceilings feel incredibly small.

His ember-like eyes catch yours and you suddenly feel too exposed.

“Good evening, princess.” 

“General,” you greet, wincing at how weak it sounds as it leaves your lips.

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders beneath the delicate straps of your ivory nightdress, the soft swell of your breasts pressing gently against the neckline. The fabric cinches at your waist before flaring out around your hips, emphasized by the way you sit at the edge of the mattress. Your posture is rigid, hands clasped in your lap—a result of all the etiquette drilled into you from childhood.

He notices the tension in your form and lets out a sigh, turning toward the couch at the far end of the room.

You blink.

“Where are you going?” you blurt out, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Your Highness,” he drawls, settling into the couch with a lazy grace. “We don’t have to do this. You look like a kitten with her hackles raised. We could ruffle the bedding, spill some oil on the sheets, and pretend we had a night worthy of the chamberlain’s inspection.”

A flash of panic rises within you. You stand, words tumbling out in a rush. “Nonsense! Marriage is not recognized before the temple unless consummated on the night of the ceremony.”

He tilts his head, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Such peculiar customs you have here on Noir.”

You had imagined a thousand ways this night could go, a thousand versions of the man you’d just married. Not one of them prepared you for this.

You flush, frustration building in your chest. “General, I would appreciate it if you respect the customs of Noir. We are a proud people, and we honor the traditions passed down to us by our forefathers.”

He rolls his eyes. Then, with a slow, deliberate pace, he stands and makes his way toward you. For every step he takes, you fight the instinct to hunch your shoulders, to shrink away. Next thing you know, he’s standing before you, his imposing size forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain your gaze.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, gently cupping your face. The heat of his touch burns through your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You finally avert your eyes. “I’ve never been with a man before,” you manage to say with as much indifference as you can muster, nails digging into your palms.

“Really? Not even a stolen kiss in your youth?”

You clench your teeth. “There are far more pressing matters to focus on than indulging in childish flirtations.”

He laughs, a rich, deep sound that resonates through the air, stirring an unexpected warmth low in your belly.

“Alright,” he concedes, his finger tracing a slow path along your cheek. Without warning, he grips your jaw, the touch both commanding and tender, pulling your gaze back to meet his. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way. None of those absurd rules from your royal handbook.”

You pull back slightly, brows knitting in confusion. “The act is the same, is it not?”

“Do you agree, Your Highness?” he presses, lips grazing your ear ever so slightly. The warmth of his breath against your skin is unfamiliar, and the rush of heat that sweeps up your neck sends electrifying pulses deep within your core.

“Yes,” you grit out.

After studying your expression one last time, he lowers himself slightly, then grips the back of your thighs and lifts you with ease. You gasp, scrambling to find your balance. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, fingers digging into the firm, broad muscles of his shoulders. With a smooth shift, he adjusts your position, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips, before carrying you to the vanity desk at the center of the room.

You struggle to speak, words caught in your throat as the sensation of being so high up in the air makes you dizzy. He finally sets you down on the desk, his large palms slowly dragging down your legs, gently pushing your knees apart.

“G—General,” you stammer, eyes wide as he pulls his tunic over his head, revealing a tanned expanse of skin and the hard, defined muscles beneath. “The bed is over there—why are we here?”

A flicker of a smile plays at his lips as he tosses the fabric carelessly to the floor. “Trust me, princess. Now close your eyes.”

You want to argue, remind him that asking you to trust the most notorious figure in the realm—whom you’ve barely known for a day—is no small request. But the gravity in his scarlet gaze quiets any protest. With a reluctant breath, you close your eyes.

There’s no movement at first. Then, his calloused palms find your knees, the rough calluses a stark contrast against the smooth stretch of your skin. Heat blossoms under his touch, searing its way upward as his hands glide along the curve of your hips, the taper of your waist. You fail to suppress the shudder coursing through you when his touch pauses just below the swell of your breasts, lingering for a heartbeat before sliding to your sides, his broad palms more than spanning the width of your back.

Then, you feel the faint brush of his breath against your mouth, a fleeting warmth before his lips capture yours in a tender kiss. The hot, wet sensation has your back arching instinctively, your hardened nipples pressing through the thin fabric of your nightgown against his hard chest. A deep, throbbing ache pulses at your core, and you clamp your thighs together in a futile effort to suppress the damp heat pooling between them.

The overwhelming rush of sensations draws a whimper from your lips, your trembling hands clutching at his shoulders for stability. His response is immediate—a low, guttural groan before he deepens the kiss, his mouth returning to yours with even more fervor.

You’ve read about kissing in your sparse collection of romance novels, tried to envision the mechanics behind the act. But the mental images always fell short, awkward and unappealing, leaving you unconvinced of its charm. You’d dismissed it as unnecessary, even pointless—especially when it came to something as pragmatic and straightforward as sex.

But now the general is sneaking in the hot, wet glide of his tongue between your lips and you panic, not sure what it is he’s doing and what you’re supposed to do. He must sense your uncertainty, because his large hand moves to steady your jaw and nape, holding you in place. When he feels the accidental brush of your tongue, he wastes no time and sucks at it, the lewd sound echoing in your ears, forcing soft, strangled sounds from your throat.

You no longer feel the seeping chill from outside the castle walls, body now feeling like it’s on fire, the wetness dripping from your entrance sliding down your inner thighs. You feel like you’re drunk and about to pass out, so you push his chest back with a gentle palm.

“General,” you say, heaving through swollen lips. “What… what are we doing? The bed…”

He takes a moment to steady his breath, eyes squeezed shut, palms pressing firmly at your waist. Then, a low, rough chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“You’re infuriatingly naive,” he mutters, his sweat-damp forehead resting against your shoulder. “You must be the only woman of all arranged marriages eager to crawl into bed with a man she barely knows.”

You flush, indignant at the implication behind his words. “What are you trying to say?” you demand, mouth unconsciously forming into a pout.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing gently over your lower lip. “What I’m saying, princess, is let me take care of you. I don’t know what your upbringing has taught you, but there’s more to this than just... getting it over with.”

You’re not used to being told what to do and deviating from the rules, so you force out a sharp “fine”—an unintended display of bratty defiance, considering the man before you. But he only laughs, and to your dismay, the sound makes him even more handsome than he already is.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, lifting you by your bottom this time, pressing you flush against his chest. His hands on your backside—so close to where you’re throbbing and wet—has you flinching forward. You suddenly feel the brush of something firm against the sensitive nub above your slit, and you jerk again in surprise.

He chuckles, before gently lowering you onto the soft expanse of the mattress. His lips find your collarbone first, then trail down to your nipples, where he suckles through the fabric. A soft whimper escapes you, your fingers curling into the sheets. You can feel his smile against your skin as his tongue sweeps over one of your sensitive buds, before continuing its journey down toward your abdomen.

But then he hovers his face above your groin that’s barely concealed by the bunched-up hem of your nightgown. Alarm jolts through you, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, torso rising instinctively. You attempt to close your legs, but his hands hold them firmly apart. 

“General—”

“Sylus,” he interrupts, lips brushing along the inside of your knee. “We’re married now, sweetheart. Use my name.”

A twisted sense of pride coils within you, knowing you hold both the name and face of the most infamous man in the realm.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat before continuing. “Sylus,” you echo, the name oddly satisfying on your lips. “Not that I’m… doubting your expertise, but is all of this really necessary?”

He exhales heavily, saying nothing at first. Then, he takes your hand—its size utterly lost in his grip—and guides it down your body. His movements are deliberate, stopping only when your palm meets the undeniable hardness of his cock, straining against his trousers.

You struggle to contain the jumbled stutters tumbling from your lips. “What are you—”

“I’m a big man,” he states matter-of-factly, his gaze unwavering. “And this is your first time. As you are now—you won’t be able to handle me.”

You don’t fully understand what he means, but the statement silences you nonetheless.

He chuckles, letting go of your hand, and you immediately pull it back to your chest. “May I?” he asks, his voice low as he hovers below you once again.

You flash a glare, before nodding reluctantly.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans back, his gaze shifting downward to the space between your legs. Slowly, he lifts the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until the cool air brushes against your exposed skin. You watch, eyes heavy, fighting the tremors rushing through you, as his hand moves along the inside of your thigh. When his fingers brush against your folds, a sharp exhale escapes you, and your head falls back onto the mattress.

“You’re so sensitive, princess,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his words.

“Shut up and get on with it,” you snap, covering your eyes with your forearm.

You hear a quiet laugh escape him before two fingers press against the sensitive nub above your folds, sending a shock of pleasure through your body. Your back arches instinctively as he slides his fingers up and down against your entrance. The motion, slick and sinful, leaves you gasping, and you struggle to keep your legs open, body trembling from the unfamiliar pleasure.

Sylus’ eyes darken, flicking between the way his fingers tease your slick folds and the way your breasts strain against your dress. His breathing grows heavier as he reaches up, pulling the neckline down to expose your chest. A soft whine escapes you when his hand cups one swell, firm yet gentle, while the other continues its relentless ministrations below.

“I’m pressing one in, alright?” he murmurs.

You barely register the words before he pushes a thick finger past your folds.

“Wait—it feels—ngh—it’s strange,” you stammer, voice hitching on a whine.

He stills immediately, digit only halfway in. “Does it hurt?”

“I… kind of? I don’t know…”

You’re panting. The pressure is peculiar, and quite unpleasant. Your body tenses at the newness of it, the unfamiliar stretch bordering on discomfort.

He remains patient, finger unmoving. Then, you feel his thumb press on your nub, drawing gentle circles against the sensitive lower hood of it. The obscene sound of slickness fills the space and you’re mortified, toes curling at the wave of arousal soaking his hand.

“This better?” he whispers, drinking in every detail—your heaving chest, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the tremor in your thighs, and the glistening mess pooling between them.

You can’t respond, overwhelmed by the spiraling pleasure.

A chuckle rumbles from him, low and pleased, as he presses the rest of his finger inside. This time, it slides in smoothly, and the high-pitched moan that escapes you is muffled by your trembling palm. Now knuckle-deep, he gently strokes upward, pressing on a rough spot that makes you jerk in his hold.

“I’m going to try something, alright?” he says softly, breath brushing against your knee as he plants a tender kiss.

“Okay,” you croak, struggling to process the pulsing sensations building deep inside you.

The circles on your nub stop, and you almost whimper at the loss. But before you can voice your complaints, something warm, wet, and utterly foreign replaces his thumb. Your head snaps back, a raw, choked cry tearing from your lips.

“General—hah—Sylus… What are you—?”

He doesn’t answer. Dazed, you prop yourself up and the sight before you is almost too much: the most powerful man in the realm, kneeling between your legs, his mouth worshiping you with unrelenting fervor. His tongue laps at your folds, drags it languidly up to your engorged nub before closing his lips around it, sucking in a way that sends sharp, electric pulses straight through your core.

Panicked by the unbearable pressure building inside, you try to push his head away. “Stop—it’s strange, I feel like I’m going to—”

Before you can finish, he slides another finger inside, stretching you further. His fingers curl, stroking that spongy spot with unrelenting precision. His mouth works in tandem, alternating between suckling and lapping at your overstimulated nub.

Tears blur your vision as the intensity peaks. You scream into your palms, hips bucking against his mouth and hand as you feel yourself tip over the high he brought you to.

Sylus watches, entranced, as your legs open wider, cries muffled as your body convulses under his ministrations. Even as you shatter under him, he doesn’t let up, prolonging your fall at his mercy. And when you’re finally sent over the edge, your release flooding his eager mouth, he drinks in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, and utterly spent.

He presses his cheek against your inner thigh, feeling the delicate tremors rippling through your body as you struggle to steady your breathing. His eyes trail over your folds, soft and swollen, slightly parted as your essence continues to glisten and drip. Unable to hold back, he dips his head and presses a slow, deliberate kiss, groaning as your intoxicating taste lingers on his lips.

Your cry pierces the air, hands flying to his hair as you tug with desperation. “W—Wait…! I can’t… it’s too much… please…”

He only chuckles, low and teasing, before placing a final kiss on the sensitive nub above your folds. Then, he moves upward, settling his weight against you. His chin rests between your breasts, arms locking yours in place as his eyes meet yours, heat and satisfaction dancing in his gaze.

As clarity slowly returns, the enormity of what just happened hits you. He—the Onichynus general, a man who strikes fear in nations across the realm—had just laved at your most intimate area with his tongue. Such an act is nowhere to be found in the guides you’ve read on sex, not even as a distant suggestion. And yet, you enjoyed it. Far more than you care to admit.

An embarrassed huff escapes you as heat blooms across your face. You throw your hands up to cover it, unwilling to meet the insufferable smugness you can practically feel radiating from him below.

Suddenly, you feel the neckline of your dress being tugged down again, catching beneath your breasts. Then, you feel the flat of his tongue gently press on a nipple, circling it with the tip before pulling it into his mouth to suckle. His hand slides up to your other bud, palm brushing over it in slow, deliberate motions. Breasts are meant to nourish, to sustain future generations—mere vessels for the creation of life. Yet the hairs at the back of your neck raise on end as you feel the return of the persistent pulsing deep within you. You bite your lip, stifling the sounds threatening to escape, back arching as you desperately chase the sensation of his mouth on you.

“We can stop now if you wish, Your Highness,” he murmurs against your skin.

Fighting the heaviness taking over your body, you grab his jaw, forcing him to meet the fire in your gaze. “Do you have a problem with consummating with me, general?”

He responds with a particularly sharp suck at your nipple.

“Ngh—! Sylus! I meant Sylus!” you cry out, correcting yourself with a gasp.

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before moving to the soft curve of your breast. His mouth alternates between harsh sucking and teasing bites, leaving a trail of bruised blooms in his wake.

“While intercourse may be a mere formality to you Noir people, in Onichynus, it’s an act of passion and love,” he says, voice low as he shifts to giving attention to your other bud. “I wish to ensure that Her Highness, my wife, has a memorable first experience. So, if you feel spent for the night, we can always stop. At any time.”

His words settle deep inside you and you feel warmth spread in your chest. Perhaps Onichynus is more than the tales of its ruthless reputation, after all. Hesitantly, you caress his cheek, heart aching at the way he closes his eyes and nuzzles into your palm. He almost seems like a clingy pet feline.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I want to finish the rites,” you say softly. Then, you flush, struggling to find the right words. “And, um, I didn’t expect things to be this… good. I don’t mind experiencing more, if it’s alright with you.”

It takes a moment for your words to register, and when they do, Sylus smirks—a slow, predatory curl of his lips that sends heat coursing through your body. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushes your bottom lip, and this time, you grant him easy access. You mimic what he did to you earlier, tentatively wrapping your lips around his tongue and sucking gently.

Immediately, a low, visceral groan escapes him as his hips press forward, grinding his restrained arousal against your soaked folds. The rough fabric of his trousers drags against your sensitive nub, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through you. You whine into his mouth, arms winding around his neck as you pull him impossibly closer.

Sylus seems barely in control now, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he adjusts his movements, angling his hips so that the ridge where his shaft meets the head rubs directly against your overstimulated nub.

Without warning, he breaks the kiss, leaving you on the verge of a whine as a string of spit bridges the space between you. He steps back, tugging his trousers down in one swift motion. Your gaze drops instinctively, and your breath catches at the sight of him.

Broad shoulders taper into a lean waist, and every inch of his sculpted body radiates strength. But it’s the thick, throbbing length between his legs that holds your attention. He notices the starstruck look on your gaze and he chuckles, walking closer to you until you're face level with it. Taking your hand, he gently wraps it around his girth. The sheer thickness overwhelms your grip, and your breath catches at the realization.

“Feel free to take a look,” he rasps.

You’ve never seen a cock before, but instinctively, you know this one is massive. The shaft is thick,  with prominent veins that seem to throb faintly, and the soft, rounded shapes below it look heavy and full. The bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip is flushed, beads of some kind of white, translucent fluid glistening at the slit. For some reason, you feel the urge to lean in and taste it.

Sylus takes your hand, shaping it into a loose 'O.' “This is you,” he murmurs, guiding your fingers to glide along his length, spreading the slick fluid. “And this…” He pushes through the circle you’ve made, the thick head sliding in and out. “…is how it’ll feel when I’m inside you.”

Slowly, he begins to move, sliding his shaft through your grip. The sensation is intoxicating, and you’re mesmerized by the sight of him—his cock pumping in and out of your hand, each stroke leaving it sticky with his arousal. You don’t even realize your lips are parting until you lean forward, your tongue darting out to flick against the leaking tip.

Sylus lets out a guttural moan, one hand tangling in your hair as his hips jerk involuntarily. His taste—salty and slightly bitter—is heady, and the heat of him against your tongue heightens your arousal. He bucks into your mouth, and though you gag slightly, you fight to take more of him, desperate for the connection.

You feel too empty.

“Princess—fuck—this is torture,” he groans, his deep voice rough with restraint.

You can only moan in response, lips stretched around his cock as he begins thrusting into your mouth. His large hands steady your head, guiding your movements. You peek up at him through fluttering lashes, and you feel your folds quiver at the sinful sight of the Onichynus general panting, eyes shut, sweat-covered muscles taut as he pistons in and out of you.

You are Noir’s beloved princess—revered and envied for your beauty, grace, and intellect—yet now you’re barely coherent, delirious over the addictive taste of your husband as he fucks your mouth over and over.

One particularly deep thrust hits the back of your throat and you gag, tears springing to your eyes. Sylus curses under his breath and withdraws immediately.

“Princess, I’m sorry,” he pants, taking in the sight of you—tears streaking your cheeks, saliva glistening on your lips, thighs pressed together in a futile attempt to relieve your ache.

“It’s okay,” you croak, voice hoarse and small.

Sylus pauses, taking a moment to steady himself and pull back from the frenzy consuming him, before climbing onto the bed, positioning himself against the headboard. His hands grip your waist, lifting you effortlessly to straddle his lap. Movements frantic and barely restrained, he aligns your slick folds against the length of his shaft. His lips find yours again, urgent and demanding, while his hands grip your hips, guiding you to rock against him. The friction against your sensitive nub draws a cry from you, and he groans into your mouth.

“Let me have you, princess,” he practically begs against your lips between heavy breaths.

You barely have time to process his words before he lifts you slightly, the broad head of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance. Then, you feel an immediate, sharp stretch as he breaches your folds, pushing deeper until the full length of him fills you to the hilt.

A strangled cry escapes you and you collapse against his chest, burying your face in his neck with stilted sobs. Sylus remains still, large hands massaging your rear soothingly, coaxing your body to adjust.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple. “Just breathe. Let me in.”

“It hurts,” you gasp. He shifts slightly, and a sharp sensation makes you wince, like he’s hitting a spot that feels too far, too much. “T—Too big…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, breath hot and uneven against your ear. His hands move carefully, gently parting the delicate skin of your folds in an attempt to ease the stretch and make it more bearable.

Keeping his hips as still as possible, he reaches for the hem of your now sweat-soaked nightgown, lifting it with as much gentleness as he can muster. His eyes trace the path of the fabric as it reveals the slick mess of fluids dripping from where you're joined, the soft curve of your belly, the delicate bounce of your breasts freed from constraint, and finally, your tear-streaked face—beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly his. Guilt flickers through him as he feels himself twitch and grow even harder inside you, despite your pained whimpers.

After tossing the fabric aside, his lips find your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to the spots that make your walls flutter around him, drawing soft, helpless sounds from your lips. 

“Once you’re settled in our home on the mainland, you’ll have everything you could ever desire,” he murmurs, hands gliding up to rub gentle circles over your hardened nipples.

“You’ll have servants at your beck and call, and you’ll be free to do whatever you please. No one will dare defy you—no one will even think to.”

The vivid imagery of his words wraps around your mind like a spell, pulling you deeper into him. The sharp discomfort of being stretched begins to ebb, replaced by a dull ache that shifts to faint blooms of pleasure.

“And when you finally swell with my child,” he breathes, tone thick with promise, “I’ll find endless delight in claiming you over and over, until the first light of dawn touches us.”

You flush at the picture of him taking you like this, with your belly round and full with his heir.

He chuckles low against your ear, the sound dark and rich. “Oh? You like that idea, don’t you?”

You huff, landing a light smack on his chest. “Do not tease me,” you protest, voice carrying a hint of authority despite your half-lidded gaze. The sight of you perched on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, while you fix him with a stern, regal expression befitting a princess is enough to have his hips bucking up to you.

With a strained groan, he crashes his lips against your neck, his cock throbbing almost painfully within your tight walls. “I need you, princess,” he rasps against your skin, barely holding back the urge to thrust up into you.

The pressure of the stretch still lingers, but the sharp pain has melted into pulses of pleasure. You place your hips back, grinding your sensitive nub against his groin, desperate for more. “Please do something,” you plead, hips moving in frantic, clumsy circles, chasing a bliss you don’t know you’re craving.

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. He lowers you back onto the mattress while still buried deep inside you. Propping himself up on his elbows, his gaze locks onto yours as he slowly draws his hips back, leaving only the tip nestled at your entrance. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he sinks back in to the hilt, filling you completely in one long, unrelenting stroke.

You cry out, this time in response to the delicious friction of his cock dragging against your walls. Driven wild by your reaction, he pulls back again, then thrusts deeply into you with another slow, deliberate plunge. A hiss escapes him as the head of his cock presses against your deepest depths.

“You’re doing so good,” he groans, lips brushing over the bruises left by his earlier kisses on your neck. “You’ve been such a darling for me, haven’t you?”

To his twisted delight, you remain incomprehensible, helpless sounds pouring from your kiss-bitten lips as you scramble to steady yourself by gripping his shoulders, nails digging painfully into his skin. He’s almost feral at the way your flesh ripples from the impact of each thrust. The princess of Noir, coveted by men all over the realm, now lies beneath him, sweat-slicked, legs spread, and taking his cock so wonderfully.  But beyond that, he sees the most perfect queen—one whose unparalleled intellect and sharp wit can stand beside him in his pursuit for power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, and you whine, tears staining your cheeks at the dizzying emptiness. He merely shushes you soothingly before gently turning you over onto your stomach. Before you can garble out a question on what he’s doing, he plunges into you once more, hitting a spot against your front that has you curling your toes and screaming into the sheets.

“I—It feels s—strange again—!” you manage between broken whimpers, each word punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his movements against your sore walls.

“Wanna feel good again, princess?” he murmurs against your ear.

Your answering sob is all the reply you can muster.

Suddenly, you’re hoisted up on your knees, his strong arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand grips your jaw, holding your face up. His thrusts quicken, erratic and desperate, and you gasp as his tongue traces the outer shell of your ear. Then, his hand slides lower, fingers finding the swollen nub above your abused folds. The sudden burst of pleasure at the rubbing motion has you crying out, body tightening as a familiar heat coils low in your belly.

You begin to thrash in his hold at the overwhelming sensations. “Sy—I think—I think I’m—”

“Let it happen, princess, I got you.”

With those words, your hands tangle in his sweat-damp hair as a violent shudder wracks your body, exhausted sobs escaping your lips. His relentless pace doesn’t falter, eyes locked on the harsh bounce of your breasts as he pounds into you from behind, chasing his release. The tight grip of your walls and the slick heat enveloping his cock finally push him over the edge, his thrusts turning shallow and frantic before burying himself deep with a final, forceful motion, spilling his seed inside you.

Sylus takes a moment to catch his breath, pressing soft, chaste kisses along your shoulders.

“You alright, princess?”

You don’t respond.

Confused, he gently tilts your head back, only to find your peaceful, sleeping face, soft snores escaping your lips. He huffs a small laugh. How adorable.

Carefully, he shifts against the headboard, settling you onto him with his half-hard cock still nestled inside, twitching faintly. Draping your legs over his knees, he starts massaging your inner thighs, soothing the soreness he knows must be there.

A series of sharp knocks echoes through the room.

“This is the chamberlain. I must confirm that the consummation rites have been fulfilled for your marriage to be deemed legitimate by the Grand Temple.”

Sylus scowls, eyes scanning over your sleeping form. “Can’t this wait in the morning?”

“This is necessary to eliminate any possibility of deceit in performing the rites.”

“Damn uptights,” he mutters. Then, a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “Well, come in then.”

The door swings open, revealing the old chamberlain in his faded temple robes, his attention fixed on his ledger. He mumbles the schedule for the following day as he approaches the bed. When he finally looks up, expecting to see the usual ruffled, soaked sheets, he freezes, almost stumbling backward in shock.

You—the cherished Noir princess, known for your beauty and headstrong grace—lie exhausted, nestled against the imposing form of the feared Onichynus general behind you. His scarlet eyes glint as he sucks a mark onto the side of your neck, and beneath you, his impressive girth disappears into your swollen, intimate folds, generous amounts of your combined essences coating his base.

“This is evidence enough, no?” Sylus taunts, sneaking in a shallow thrust up to you, drawing a soft, breathless whine from your throat.

The chamberlain stammers, his words fumbling as he backs toward the door.

“Y—Yes, the rites are confirmed. Good night,” he rushes out in a single breath before slamming the door behind him.

Chuckling, Sylus pulls his sleeping wife closer, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You’ll need the rest for the long journey ahead, and for whatever adjustments await you back on the mainland.

But, in the end, none of that matters.

He’s just grateful to have found his beloved kitten again.

check out my other works!

[just-a-queer-dramatic-disaster]

It's just soul-crushing how in Dungeons and Daddies, technically a comedy podcast, practically the greatest execution of themes and representation of generational trauma in the history of medias, everyone's storyline resolve itself in the most fitting and tragic way possible, for some more than others.

There are those who get their "happy ending". Darryl, Lincoln, Ron, Terry Jr, they make the active choice of being happy, to love and be loved and renounce the fight.

On the other hand, Normal, Grant and Scary, at the "end" of the story they find a fight, the realisation that they need to change themselves and/or their perception of things to be happy and it's completely up to them. That's where Glenn failed and, one could argue, Sparrow too. That's somewhere Taylor and Lark will never arrive, because they enjoy the fight more than thinking about the consequences and for better and for worse they're okay where they're stucked.

And then there is Harry, our crunchy, munchy, hippie druid dad, who tried his best and made many mistakes, but never fucked up that badly to deserve his ending. Henry was just a man, not an eldritch entity nor a god, just a man, and a decent one. What to do when things go shit and is no one fault (Willy’s)? To share the stage of this cruel turn of events there is Nick/Nicholas/Nicky Close Foster Freeman Swift, fate's puppet, the martyr and no one's son, who wanted to go home and hadn't got such a thing. He never got a chance to start with. Would have he been a good father? What mark would he have left on his son? Would he have left anyway, in the end? Henry and Nick, they were both betrayed and left behind, one went to the woods of the plastic heavens, the other straight to hell. They were never in control. What does that mean? What's the moral if not that shit happens every day? The reason why they keep trying is very simple: that's all there is left. Love. Sometimes it's enough. Sometimes you have to make it enough.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Safe Haven: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, implied child abuse and rape

Summary: Something is going on with Spencer. He has been nervous and secretive ever since you two posed as a married couple. He tries to throw you off his trail by lying but he knows better than to lie to someone like you. There's not a lot that people can hide from you, but it seems like the ones closest to you hide even the deadliest of secrets.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

You, Rossi, and Beeks take a trip to the Archer house where, you guessed it, the same yellow energy is lingering about.

"I don't know what you'll find. This was the first crime scene, so believe me, my guys went over it with a fine-tooth comb."

"I'm sure they did but none of them are me," you state. "Plus, we now know Mrs. Archer chose to take the suspect home instead of taking him to social services as she should have. We need to try to figure out why."

"She was a nurse for fifteen years. She would know how to work the system. Maybe she called in favors with social workers or knew some foster parents who could take him in."

The house has been cleaned so there isn't any forensic evidence left behind. Seeing the energy here doesn't help much either because you know exactly what the unsub's goal is. You're looking for anything that would suggest why she allowed the unsub to stay at her house. There is a landline phone on the counter with a blinking "2" on it signaling that there are two new messages.

"They've got messages," you say to Rossi.

"My guys checked it the first day. Those must be new."

You play the first message and a woman's voice comes across the machine.

"This is Brittany at Dr. Olsen's office. Eric missed his 9:00 AM appointment. Please call to reschedule."

The second message plays immediately after the first of another woman.

"Hi. Hello. My name is Nancy Riverton, and your son Jeremy missed his bus at the rest stop on Route 6. He's fine. He's safe. Don't worry. He's with me, but if you could just give me a call... Thanks."

"What were the names of the Archer children?" Rossi asks.

"Eric and Daniel."

"She said she picked him up on Route 6. It's him. He's at another family."

Beeks gets his men on the phone and calls it in. Based on the number the woman called from, the unsub is at Nancy Riverton's house. You have the address. It's only a matter of time before he kills her and her children. Since the team at the police station is a lot closer than you and Rossi, Derek and Emily head over to the address as fast as possible.

The kids are found in their room with their hands tied behind their backs but Nancy is gone. Their father died when the kids were little so it's just been them and Nancy for a long time. The unsub who told the kids his name is Jeremy, said he was going to his aunt's house in Chicago but lives in Omaha.

The weird thing is that when Nancy saw what Jeremy had planned for her family, she told him that he didn't do anything wrong. She told him that he was a good kid and he just made a mistake. The kids don't get why she did that but you do. It's clear that Jeremy has been abused or has trauma from his own family and all he needs is a little bit of love. If she behaved like the other parents, he would have continued to kill. She broke the cycle by treating him like a child who is hurting instead of a murderer.

Nancy got Jeremy out of her house and away from her kids, granting him a deal that she'd drive him wherever he wanted to go.

He told her he wanted to go home.

"Monica called a friend at the Northern Omaha Children's Hospital about an abandoned thirteen-year-old boy. Monica was going to bring him in the next day," Penelope says.

"We need to talk to that friend," Hotch says.

"I already did. Apparently, the children's hospital and child services have a strong rapport. She said the child's name was Niko Bellic and his hometown was Newton, Iowa."

"Niko Bellic?" Beeks asks, confused.

"Nico Bellic is the name of a main character in Grand Theft Auto IV." You, Hotch, Spencer, and Beeks look at Rossi. "What? I know things."

Spencer looks at the map and estimates the direction Nancy and Jeremy are going in.

"Guys, he's headed due east on Route 6. It passes right through Newton. He probably didn't expect the question and gave away his real hometown."

"Garcia, call the Iowa State Police and tell them to be on the lookout for a minivan headed east towards Route 6."

"Will do."

You take out your phone and call Emily who patches you through the car's Bluetooth system through. They're driving around the area to see if they can spot the minivan while also driving in the same direction Nancy is driving in. You connect her to Penelope so that everyone can hear everyone.

"Two thousand, two hundred families in Newton have kids under the age of eighteen. In other words, it's a lot."

"He would have acted out long before now. He's got a juvie record, he's well known to truant officers, and he's probably been kicked out of school, maybe several."

"We thought he was running away, but he's heading home. He's got a plan."

"Taking his rage out on surrogate mothers isn't doing it for him anymore. Now he's ready for the real thing," Derek says.

"Garcia, we need to ID this kid so we can find his mom and warn her."

"Got it." She doesn't even need five minutes to pull up the information. "I have thirty-two kids with juvie records who have been absent from school in the last three days. I can send police to their mothers, I can start calling houses—"

"No, we don't have time for trial by error. We have to narrow it down," Derek cuts her off.

"Okay, the kids at the last house said that the unsub liked to play a game. He liked tying the kids up and scaring them, and he knew what he was doing. He used socks and belts. He's done it before, Garcia."

"You want me to look for kids who've picked on their little brothers and sisters? I'm an only child but isn't that standard for you people with siblings?"

"Budding psychopaths don't just pick on their siblings. They torture them."

"Okay, well, none of them have assault records. Not yet, anyway."

"Is there any way to see if any of the younger siblings have been in the emergency room in the last six months?"

"Medical info like that is molasses slow to get unless I... Please hold for genius." Again, she only needs five minutes. "Got it. I figured a suspicious visit to the ER might end up in a social services report and it did. Ten days ago, the admitting doctor called about a Sayer family at 1365 Hunter Drive. Jeremy Sayer is a thirteen-year-old with a disturbingly long juvie record. Wow. His nine-year-old sister Carrie was brought to the hospital with a spiral arm fracture."

"The kind you get from having your arm twisted behind your back too far," Emily comments. She uses Derek's phone to call Kendra, Jeremy's mother, but she isn't answering her work phone. "Okay, Kendra's boss said she left work already. I have her cell phone. What do you have on Mr. Sayer?"

"He moved to Wisconsin three years ago. I'm looking at the phone records right now. He hasn't contacted the family in ten months," Penelope answers.

Emily tries to call Kendra on her phone but she isn't answering that one either.

"She sent me to voicemail. Twice."

"Keep trying."

She does and eventually gets Kendra on the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Sayer, this is Agent Prentiss from the FBI. I need to talk to you about your son Jeremy."

"I don't have a son. I don't know what you're talking about," she stutters.

"Mrs. Sayer, it's important that you and your daughter stay away from your home. We have reason to believe Jeremy's heading there now."

"Oh, God. He's here. He's in the house," she gasps.

"Ma'am, do not go inside the house. We'll be there in two minutes."

"I have to go inside. He's got Carrie."

She rushes inside her house but doesn't hang up on Emily so you're hearing everything that's happening. You can only imagine what's going on, and it's not a pretty picture. Even through the phone at the police station, you can feel her fear.

"Carrie! Carrie? Carrie? Jeremy, let her go, please. No! Please, please!"

"Sure thing, but I want you to tell me the truth first," Jeremy grits out.

"Truth? What truth?"

"That you always hated me. Admit it. Admit it and I won't hurt your little sugarplum."

"I don't know--I don't know what me to say. I don't. I swear."

"Say what I heard you telling Father Quincy. Say it! Confess and be forgiven! Isn't that what you always tell me?" he yells.

"I was pregnant with twins. Then one day I wasn't. Is that what you want to hear? The doctor said one fetus consumed the other."

"I wasn't even born yet and you blamed me?!" he screams.

"You are rotten to the core! You always have been!" Kendra screams back.

Emily and Derek arrive on the scene while Kendra is still on the phone. Again, you're hearing everything.

"FBI! Drop your weapon!" Derek shouts.

"Maybe I made you into a monster because I hated you when you were inside me! But I think I hated you because I knew what you were!"

"Don't do it, Jeremy. Do you want to die?"

He must be threatening Carrie with a knife or a gun. Probably knife.

"You won't shoot me when mommy's little angel can get hurt," Jeremy smirks.

"Yes or no?"

"I'll cut her neck open. I know how to do it. I've practiced."

"No, please!" Kendra cries.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, Jeremy."

"You can't shoot a kid."

"I can shoot a killer, and I will. Believe that. If that knife even twitches, I'm gonna put a bullet right through your brain," Derek threatens.

"If I let her go--"

"There is no if," Derek cuts him off.

"Fine. I was only kidding, anyway."

"Turn around."

You can imagine Derek grabbing Jeremy and handcuffing him.

"Aah! Ah! Mom, he's hurting me! Mom, I can't go by myself! Mom! Mom!" Jeremy begs.

He's psychotic but he will be locked up for a long time, you hope. After Nancy drove him to his house, he stabbed her. She was sent to the ER and you hope she makes a full recovery.

"Nancy Riverton got out of surgery. She's gonna make it," Derek says.

"She's lucky. She managed to control him long enough to save her children. She's impressive," Hotch nods.

"Mrs. Sayer asked that she and her daughter be notified if and when Jeremy is released," Emily says.

"The BAU should keep his file handy."

Now that you have some time alone on the plane, you look at Spencer who is reading a book he brought in his go-bag. Derek puts his headphones in, Emily is getting some rest, and Hotch and Rossi are on the other side of the plane.

"So, I talk to your mom."

He snaps his head to you. "What? When?"

"Earlier today. I wanted to know how she was doing. You said she wasn't doing well. She's happy and wants us to come visit soon."

"Yeah, maybe one weekend we can."

You drop your voice a few octaves lower. "Spencer, you lied to me." He sighs. "Is there anything going on? Are... Are we okay?"

"What? No, we're great. Please don't think there is anything wrong here."

"Then why did you lie to me?"

"Look, I know I can come talk to you about anything and everything, and I will, but not right now. I have to figure out some things first. Derek is helping me."

"Okay," you whisper.

"I love you. We're okay. I promise."

You hook your arm in his elbow and rest your head on his shoulder, and he goes back to reading. We're okay.

********

Clarissa doesn't like being in the house when Frank isn't here. To keep her and the kids under control, Frank asked his friend, Rob, if he could come over and watch over everything until he returned. The only reason why Rob agrees is because Frank has a kid that Rob desperately wants. The only reason why Frank hasn't given her over to Rob is because he has someone already interested in her. She's a very popular kid, that one is.

Clarissa is in the same business as Rob and Frank but she doesn't have the same... desires as they do. She never did. She does it for the money and power. Frank gets the have his fun with the kids while Clarissa turns a blind eye and enjoys spending the money they bring in. They've been doing this for decades, way before you had ever come into their lives.

The system works because she and Frank understand the limits they set for their kids. Rob... disturbs that. Rob is a lot scarier than Frank makes him out to be. All of Frank's friends are like this but Rob is the worst one of all. Rob takes what he wants without giving a single fuck about what others think.

There's a reason why Rob goes through so many children.

Clarissa isn't a total monster. She has a heart--mangled and rough as it is--but a heart nonetheless. She likes to give the kids toys while they stay with her and Frank. Her husband doesn't like it when she takes care of the kids as if they are her own. He doesn't want her to confuse reality with her feelings. Rob doesn't give a fuck what she does as long as she stays out of his way. She might be well over the age limit that he likes to play with but he'll fuck her up just the same.

The kids are either doing outside chores or in their room so Clarissa picks up the toys in the living room to give her something to do. Where she is, she has a clear shot of one of the kids' bedroom doors. That's Jessica's room. She's one of the youngest Clarissa and Frank has. They foster kids anywhere from five or six to sixteen or seventeen. If Clarissa isn't mistaken, Jessica just turned seven.

The door to her room opens and Rob steps out of it with one hand clutching the front of his pants. He shuts the door and buttons his pants with a slight smirk on his face. Clarissa is trained to ignore the sounds coming from one of the kids' bedrooms. Rob lifts his eyes and locks eyes with Clarissa who has now frozen in her spot.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

Clarissa shakes her head and immediately goes back to cleaning the living room. She hates Rob. She wishes Frank was back.

"But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep." - Robert Frost

x

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[pinkinsect]

going insane over shidou ryusei recently and seeing your posts about him being connected to hide songs are making me even more crazy. can i know more about your thoughts.. maybe what you think his backstory will be like.. (<- i have clinical shidou disorder)

hi sorry to hear about your shidou disorder. as a fellow sufferer i have to say it doesn't get better.

i don't have a set backstory in my head for him, just conclusions of things it's like from all of the supplemental info we've gotten for him. to succinctly sum up my thoughts about what his backstory will be like: Not Great!

tl;dr: there's so many dots to connect that anything could happen at this point. but i think that possibly, shidou's backstory is one of deprivation; either deprivation of physical needs, self-determination, or both. though i don't have a set idea of how exactly that may have happened, there's a few options—poverty, an abusive household, family members with too many expectations, too many restrictions on himself or his behavior. i wouldn't be surprised if he'd been arrested at some point (it's happened before. it could happen again) or if he had been in the foster system, where the aforementioned conditions occurred, given there's absolutely no mention of any immediate family members in the egoist bible—and he seems to really hate santa, though that could be for other reasons.

the rest of this is basically explaining why i think so—it ended up being awfully long (it turns out i cant Not summarize rocket dive/pink spider/ever free) so the rest of this is under a cut. let's go!

there are plenty of people view shidou as someone who is Just Horny And Violent; Born A Freak Forever A Freak. and you know what? i fuck with that type of character, but i think there's more to shidou than that.

during the U-20 match, he has his trademark "football is a biological phenomenon" speech (which is probably quickly overshadowed by its last line, "right in the womb," and i can't blame everyone. it is baffling), that gives us some of the first deeper insight into shidou.

"Every human on the planet wants to leave proof of their own existence behind. The act of passing on their own genes has been programmed into all living beings. They connect with others, wound others, do things that make them persist in the memories of others. Those who create something, those who want to become something, and of course, those who make children. They're doing something that leaves behind proof they existed."

shidou often says he wants an explosion, but another way to think about it is freedom. he wants the freedom to play the way he wants, to live the way he wants. and for soccer, that's through finding people he can create an explosion with—people he can play freely with.

(i think this has been acknowledged by other characters too; given shidou's placement on the Isagi Yoichi Type Indicator compass and noa telling kunigami to "take away [shidou's] freedom" by marking him. i choose to look into individual word choices in blue lock since kaneshiro seems to like making specific word choice relevant later)

shidou is all about freedom, and i think that could come from being deprived of it, in some ways.

a lot of the supplemental info we're given about him could be described as "things someone does just because they can." people often go through their lives taking certain things for granted, until it's taken away. once it's returned to them, you'll see a sort of appreciation that might seem a little out of the ordinary.

(personal experience, so it might not be great evidence, but plenty of people who've spent a lot of time in prison seem to gain a newfound appreciation for couches and making food late at night.)

his morning routine consists of "going onto the balcony naked and soaking up the sunlight, dancing however he likes, and yelling whatever comes to his mind ("stuff like capillaries and flesh rupture!!")." is it strange? yes, but to me it's an appreciation of freedom; one's free will to do and say anything, and to let the sun hit you while you're doing it.

something else that sticks out to me from the egoist bible is his favorite and least favorite foods; yukhoe and bean sprouts respectively. i normally wouldn't mind it, but the juxtaposition of something that can be so indulgent and really cheap produce is interesting to me, especially because of his reasoning for hating bean sprouts: 「フォルムが貧弱で萎える」, which I would translate as "They look weak and wilted," but the words used for weak and wilt can also mean "insubstantial" and "to lose passion." that extra translation detail could be a reach and extraneous information, but similar to my earlier point, kaneshiro seems to really like using words with multiple meanings instead of more clear cut synonyms. the top of shidou's scale being a rich, fatty dish of raw meat and the bottom being bean sprouts is interesting to me, and fits this picture of shidou that isn't necessarily hedonistic, but is "living deep and sucking the marrow out of life" in a very explosive way.

now a section specifically for hide songs because there's so much

as you mentioned, i really think that the hide songs will tie into shidou's backstory; an awful lot of the characters' favorite songs represent their character in the past or present. pink spider is his favorite song, and rocket dive is mentioned in chapter 253 in regards to shidou's goal.

for those less familiar with hide's work, pink spider was written as an answer to rocket dive, and the cd for the single contained a third track: five minutes and twenty-seven seconds of silence, then a short clip of ever free, the titular single released several weeks after his death.

all three songs deal with a desire for freedom, and to break out of the monotony of one's surroundings for something new—but with varying tones and approaches.

rocket dive has an endlessly encouraging tone, ending happily with a new star being seen in the sky (and this is a reach, but shidou's given name—ryuusei—is a homophone with the japanese word for meteor/falling star, ryuusei).

pink spider, shidou's favorite song, is about a spider so trapped in its surroundings it kills anything that comes close, until it learns there's more. and to reach it, it steals a butterfly's wings and flies and fails and tries again, and we never know if the spider succeeds at its second attempt at flight, or is resigned to watching the sky from the ground.

ever free's speaker is trapped on the ground, and faced with the questions "how much does love cost?" "can you eat a dream?" in response to their own questions about how love feels and what it's like to feel their dreams. but still, they dream of flying toward freedom, of escaping. like pink spider, and unlike rocket dive, we don't ever know if they make it off the ground.

despite the order of songs released being rocket dive -> PINK SPIDER -> ever free, i think that the order the songs represent shidou may be the opposite. he started, trapped, wings closed, uncertain, but had the dream of freedom inside of him. and though he may have hurt someone—or lost someone—in the process, he seized that freedom, and the expanse of the future awaits him to live in and make a name for himself.

something specifically about love being something that could be bought, or a dream being something that could be eaten, makes me want to think that shidou had a lot of expectations, or restrictions, placed on him as well.

hide in general is shidou's favorite, though, not just that one song of his. hide's live performances are high energy, and he's just really funny when talking to the audience between songs? it fits the massive amount of his songs are upbeat lyrically and about sex and desire, but an equal amount are about difficulty controlling unhealthy behaviors, cynical, or reflecting on one's own flaws and the loss of others.

the duality there makes me think of shidou's other favorites, chainsaw man and a clockwork orange—both media that can be, and often are, interpreted on the surface as simply spectacles of violence and sex, but are also acclaimed for their deeper themes. it could be like shidou, in a way. there's layers.

to sum it all up. i think shidou probably was in foster care. maybe was sexually abused. probably also saw a lot of bad things happen to other people, so it's nothing personal to him on a surface level, at least. he's out of that situation and deciding to enjoy the hell out of life. probably repressed and that's why he cries when alone at night (possibly nightly ?) for reasons he doesn't know.

[chronicallycouchbound]

Homelessness as Trauma: Transitioning Into Housing

Having housing after experiencing homelessness for over half of my life wasn’t healing for me (and most others too).

Homelessness is inherently traumatic in and of itself. Just the act of not having housing is traumatic. But before someone becomes homeless ever, we know that certain marginalized communities are more likely to become homeless, and that those marginalized communities are experiencing communal trauma AND the individual person is experiencing trauma. Additionally, whatever led to you becoming homeless was traumatic. And then you’re at significantly increased exposure to other traumas while unhoused (friends dying, police violence, systemic barriers, communal traumas, developing medical conditions, medical discrimination, etc).

Long-term homelessness is exponentially traumatizing.

When I lived in a youth homeless shelter for nearly 4 years, prior to, and after that I had been unhoused or in extremely unstable housing. Watching as other youth would become unhoused and then quickly gain housing, some in under a week, most in under a few months, I felt absolutely dispirited. As time went on, I only acquired more marginalization and thus faced more barriers. I felt like I would never have stable housing. It often still feels this way.

The staff at the shelter where I lived consistently said “We are not a crisis stabilization unit” in response to youth showing signs of trauma and crisis. Almost no concrete supportive services exist for people transitioning out of long-term homelessness. I stopped qualifying for most services after I stopped being legally homeless, even though my housing was even more unstable than the shelter was most of the time.

For a frame of reference, because I was never officially in foster care as a minor (even though I was homeless and on my own documented as a minor, had various legal guardians other than my parents, as well as dozens of child services calls and regular check-ins with caseworkers because of documented physical abuse and neglect all throughout my childhood, but I digress) I don't qualify for the services that foster youth get granted until they're 30, even if they only spent 1 night in foster care. Some of those services include free college, housing vouchers to pay for housing in full, guaranteed Medicaid coverage, additional food stamps, and more. I have several friends who have used these programs and are thriving! I'm glad they exist for people in need-- they should also be expanded to include homeless youth.

So when I moved into my first apartment, on my own, at age 19, I was genuinely more terrified than at any time while I had ever been homeless. I slept with my backpack as a pillow and my jacket as a blanket, despite having pillows and blankets to use. It was like a security blanket for me. I slept with my knife on my waistband like I always did, and I reluctantly put my boots within arm's reach instead of wearing them.

I didn't put anything into cabinets or closets or drawers for a very long time. I just kept living out of my backpack. I was afraid of leaving anything in my apartment-- usually leaving any possessions anywhere meant saying goodbye to them. I was afraid of being alone in my tiny studio apartment so I would have friends over every night.

There was times I wouldn't leave my apartment for days on end, especially when I started owning possessions that I had to leave behind and couldn't carry everything on my back anymore. I can't remember a time I owned enough possessions that I couldn't fit them all into a tote box and backpack. It was an entirely foreign experience.

People kept congratulating me and yet no one gave me any help with getting basic necessities for my apartment. Every pot and pan I own is scratched to shit and found free on the road, akin to all my mismatched dull knives and friend's hand-me-down towels. It was a pat on the back while I was still out there drowning.

People kept congratulating me and still my friends, my family, were on the streets dying. Acting like I should be proud to "overcome" while the system still hurts us all. My friends are still dying. Our whole community is grieving all the time. I feel guilty to just be alive.

That's not even touching the start of processing the trauma I experienced while unhoused. They say you don't start to process shit til you're safer and it hit like a tidal wave.

I had never felt like that before getting off the streets. And I wasn't and am still not in stable housing. I can't even imagine what stable housing would look like, let alone how tryna process that would be like. It is such a raw and vulnerable experience to come fresh out of homelessness and then be thrown into a world you've never known.

So many people think JUST housing is the answer when it simply is not. We need supportive services, we need community support, we need to be cared for and looked after. We need places to go for holidays and people to be our emergency contacts. We need financial help and support that money can't buy. We need real love, we need to be held by our community and uplifted to where we all can thrive.

[syndrossi]

How would things have turned out if Rhea had taken the boys home for the winter?

Hmmm, interesting thought exercise. The answer is, it depends.

Scenario 1: The fostering arrangement never happens and the boys are sent to Rhea with an escort after preparations are made

In this scenario, Rhea doesn't have the hunting accident and the boys never send their letter to Dragonstone, because Allard doesn't threaten to send them to foster at Blackcrown. (Their original plan was to try and convince Rhea to tell Daemon while they are at Runestone.)

However, the boys still need to travel to Runestone, and Crayne still makes damn sure he's in that travel party (which goes south), so the kidnapping still happens.

When word from the Bloody Gates arrives in Runestone after the bodies of the Royce retainers are found, Rhea has no choice but to send for Daemon. She loves them, and he's one of the best options for finding them. She probably also sends a raven to Rhaenyra, who is hopefully closer and can help.

Unfortunately, with Daemon and Rhaenyra being alerted so late, there's no way they make it to the Saltpans in time to prevent the Dancing Myr from departing, so it becomes a frantic investigation. Where were they taken to? The ravens being killed at the Saltpans is quite suspicious, so Daemon probably traces things there, and after sharing Crayne's description, learns about the Dancing Myr and its port of origin (Volantis).

I don't know if Daemon feels like he has time in this scenario to clear things with Viserys, so he probably leaves that duty to Rhaenyra and grabs Laena and Rhaenys from Driftmark to join him on dragon to chase after the ship.

Honestly, there's an entirely different fic that could be written about this scenario if I kept going, but you get the picture. This leads to a much earlier Essos conflict for sure.

Scenario 2a: Rhea takes the boys back with her after her hunt in the Vale of Arryn (Crayne joins the party)

Things could go very badly here. Rhea is killed, along with the other Royce retainers, and there is no one to send a raven to Daemon. He has no clue that the boys will be taken to Essos and an unknown fate. However, Crayne has to hole up with the boys for a few months, because the Dancing Myr had only been in port for a month when Crayne escaped on it in Resonant. This would be happening nearly three months before it is due to arrive! Plenty of time for Jon and Rhaegar to potentially escape.

Scenario 2b: Rhea takes the boys back with her after her hunt in the Vale of Arryn (Crayne is left behind)

The boys make it to Runestone! Quite a bit of bonding occurs with Rhea, even on Jon's part, but it's a lot harder to keep the boys a secret with the way she dotes on them, and how much attention they naturally draw due to their advanced skills. The castle begins to actively speculate that she's their mother, or that they're bastards of Elys and Daemon. Rumors eventually make it to Lady Arryn, who has to make a hasty visit to Runestone to figure out what the heck is going on. Ultimately, Rhaenyra is involved to figure out what to do about Daemon, who is sent for.

Meanwhile, Jephyro and associates have to pivot, and spend many of those months the boys are at Runestone setting up a new kidnapping attempt. For maximum drama, it probably occurs while Daemon is at Runestone, having just met his sons for the first time.

In this scenario, I expect Daemon would negotiate hard with Rhea on the bastard/trueborn status of the boys. Even if they're "only" bastards of her sister, Rhea actively hid them from him, which is behavior House Targaryen doesn't want to encourage (but probably isn't outright treason yet like hiding his trueborn sons from him). So perhaps he offers a pardon in exchange for her claiming them as trueborn. And if she doesn't accept, then he just asks Viserys nicely to legitimize them, which he probably does after Daemon guilt-trips him about not being granted an annulment. Which is subsequently also issued.

Either way, both boys have some fondness for Rhea after several months with her, so Daemon has to deal with that bitter pill once they're finally rescued.

Politically, a very messy scenario all around!

[yukaro353]

🌜[Breaking favorite toys]🌛

🌃

This is a one shot I made a while ago, you can find it on AO3 although it's in Spanish, and that's it, I hope you like it(?)

“Adult life was already hard enough, but a breakup ended up pushing Kya into the worst possible situation, one where she falls for the most unlikely girl and, in an unexpected twist, breaks her”.

(Take the ages as Kya is in her 20's and Lin is just approaching 18, more or less like that.)

🌃

When the sun began to set Kya threw her hopes to the ground.

She had spent almost four years traveling the world discovering herself, seeing other cultures up close and learning from them, all of that had gone into decline thanks to a strong breakup with the girl she came to consider the love of her life. Who had that girl been? None other than the fabulous princess of the Fire Nation, Izumi.

Kya had approached the princess through Bumi, who still had the title of the princess's best friend, and who also worked in the United Forces fleets that practiced in the waters of the Fire Nation, they remained so close that Kya came to fear that there was something cooking in his hands, however their bond was merely friendly, like foster brothers, a new version of Aang and Zuko, less bombastic but equally significant... Perhaps that was why Kya was not surprised that her brother gave the princess his side when they both broke up, she could even remember when she met him furtively in a port taking advantage of the chance of their closeness to tell him about their relationship at the beginning, Bumi had looked at him more stupefied than happy and had put a hand on his shoulder.

— She's a princess, Kya, only child, sole heir. This might not have much of a future, keep that in mind.

That was what he had said and it had completely ruined Kya's mood, she was clinging to the idea that Izumi would always have her in her heart, the distance seemed not to affect them, she could go back and forth from the Fire Lands and still receive countless letters with the sweetest words from her princess, words so bright and loving that when the future regent summoned her to her palace Kya did not see the breakup coming. Izumi waited for her in the inner gardens, next to the lake that she adored so much, Kya had fondly remembered that first time she saw her, when her father took them all to that same place and they both played with the turtle ducks until it was time for dinner, that warm memory was clouded by Izumi's cold expression.

— The time we have spent together is invaluable, I will never forget it, however my responsibilities can no longer wait for me, I owe my father and my country everything I am and I must repay them.

Izumi dropped that bomb on her and prevented her from saying anything, gave her one last gift and sent her back on her endless journey, Kya uncovered that exquisite red dress and cried seas, she cried so much that she thought she would wash out the garment, she sank into alcohol to such an extent that her own father took time out of his schedule to go look for her, finding her lying in some bar, taking her on Appa's back back to Republic City so that her heart could heal in the safety of home, surrounded by her family... Those that remained, of course.

Although everyone was unaware of her affair with Izumi, they suspected that there was some heartbreak in her gaze. Her beloved mother was the one who had dedicated the most time to her, cradling her in her arms as if she were still her little girl, making her favorite foods and letting her flow, without pressuring her to give explanations of what had happened. Her father had taken it for granted after bringing her and had left on another tour of the Air Temples accompanied by Tenzin, who was in search of his tattoos. Kya was impressed to see him so grown up. That crying child who hid behind the others had disappeared to give way to a man of ambitions who sought at all costs to be face to face with his father… Kya envied him a little. She wanted that resolution in her life, for someone to take her by the shoulders and tell her “You have a destiny!” and for her task to be only to pursue it, but no.

She and Bumi were in a different bag.

And yet Bumi was several steps above her, climbing the ranks of the United Forces through sheer effort, carving his name in the ranks, not “Son of the Avatar”, “Son of the Great Master”, no, Bumi, future General of the United Forces, who had taken his life into his hands and had resolved to make it great and meaningful. How did he do it? How did he not lose his way halfway through? She could only watch them from behind, stumbling as she chasing on their shadows…

Her sadness slowly grew, so worrying that her mother had decided to call for reinforcements, the one indicated for that job: Uncle Sokka.

He had arrived one morning with a big smile and a box of candy from the Southern Tribe that made Kya crawl out of her room, once she caught that she threw her strongest card: Lin Beifong.

Kya's face was not exactly a poem when her uncle asked her to visit the firstborn of the Beifong, she had had some esteem for Lin in the past, she was a daily visitor to the island, of course, another member of the family, like Izumi or Aunt Suki, but it was not a visit for her, it was a visit for Tenzin, because his parents had agreed that it was dangerous to let him socialize in the city like ordinary children and they had decided to bring the children to him, the acolytes had been a first option but they all treated Tenzin with devotion, unable to see him as a simple brat to get to know and support, they saw their future leader and that would definitely affect the perception of the minor. The solution to that? It was Lin, Toph came with her wide smile and put her daughter on the board and that was it, Tenzin got a best friend and the matter was settled.

With that context, why would she be excited to have “quality” time with the aforementioned? The bossy and aggressive brat who threw rocks at him when he bothered her brother could not have become someone fun or interesting, but Sokka did not let her refuse the offer.

— Linlin needs some extra hands, and your hands, my dear, are just the right ones, I will pay you for the favor so I expect your commitment, do you understand me?

— What the hell are you getting me into, man? I don’t want to end up in some scam or something like that.

— Your aunt Toph may have her slip-ups but Linlin is pretty proper, it will be fun, maybe you can even show it off in the future.

Kya rolled her eyes and accepted in exchange for a dress, she loved collecting them and her uncle was the best of all when it came to buying them, he always accommodated the taste of others, and he used it to his advantage, the subject was settled with a handshake.

That was what brought Kya to the situation she was in, she was in one of her evening dresses sitting at a bar with a delicious cocktail in her hand staring into nothingness, the ornaments in her hair made her curls stand out and the red ribbon necklace with a golden sun hanging in the middle gave her a juicy touch, some men looked at her as if wondering how bad things must be going for a committed beauty to be there... And she would be delighted to give them the gossip if it weren't for the fact that her eyes kept wandering from side to side looking for Beifong, they were supposed to meet there for... The mission? The task? That they had designated for her, but the aforementioned just didn't show up, Kya pursed her lips and finished her cocktail, if she had had the possibility of being stood up in mind she would have taken out the most revealing dress from her closet and started hunting for beauties, Republic City had no shortage of beautiful women and she needed some treacherous butterfly to play with her feelings to feel something that wasn't related to Izumi.

Taking off the necklace that she had given her would surely be a great first step but she wasn't ready for it yet.

Kya asked for another drink and changed seats, being able to see through the stained glass the silhouettes of the passersby, for a moment her head took her to that getaway in Ba Sing Se where she taught Izumi to dance in a nice bar where nobody knew them, a single sigh left her lips when a hand settled on her shoulder and brought her back to reality, Kya turned and found a surprise.

A rather pleasant one.

Those round cheeks that were always pouting had given way to an angular face with defined cheekbones, those round green eyes had sharpened and that messy black hair that looked like a stormy cloud was gathered into an elegant hairstyle, Lin no longer reached her waist, now she was face to face wrapped in a black coat with several buttons.

Puberty had hit her at the right point at the exact moment.

— Linlin!?

— Lower your voice – the aforementioned ordered her immediately, a little uncomfortable by the looks they had attracted, she no longer sounded like an angry rodent, it was the tone of a firm and self-assured woman, one of those who would use you as a carpet if she didn't find you useful... And Kya felt very embarrassed by that thought.

— Sorry... H-how are you? It's been... a long time, you look so different. How have you been?

— Fine – Lin answered as she sat next to Kya, rejecting the bartender's offers – Sorry for the delay, something came up at work.

— Work?

The question seemed to surprise Lin, her face was still very expressive… And angry – I'm a police officer.

— Since when!? – Kya snapped, being scolded by Lin again for raising her voice – I mean… It was obvious that you would do it at some point, "Badger mole daughter comes out striped", but, you know… I thought it would take you longer.

— I got promoted at the academy so I cut back.

— Wow… That's admirable, congratulations Lin –Kya looked at her cocktail feeling a bucket of cold water fall on her, even the billionaire brat who had been born with her whole life figured out and a legacy to continue was accumulating achievements in her field while Kya was blackmailed by her uncle and mother to only take one step away from home… She was so pathetic.

— Thanks… It wasn't a big deal either, I had an advantage.

That answer surprised Kya – Advantage?

— Many come to the academy without knowing metalbending or without knowledge of laws, I… Well, I'm the founder's daughter, I had all that figured out.

— Still it's admirable, as if you'd been studying it much more than the others.

— I had the opportunity to learn it before the others, it's a privilege and I must recognize it or I'll fall into superfluous flattery… I must give twice as much as the others to validate those advantages.

Well, Kya didn't expect social awareness or anything from a Beifong, Toph herself bragged about all her accomplishments without fear, she was the damn queen and the others just had to accept it or they would face her power... Maybe that was what had led her to raise a child who constantly questioned herself.

Interesting.

— So, my esteemed Republic City police officer, what brings you here today?

— You.

By all means, that woman was trying to destabilize her or something, she was going down the line of “tough woman with sensible words” and Kya was weak of that, she had to keep a cool head. She had seen how they changed her diapers! – Come on, flirt, did you miss me that much?

One of Lin's eyebrows rose strangely – No… Well, I was curious, I hadn't seen you in a long time, but I didn't know you were back, Uncle Sokka was the one who told me.

—You already know him, he's a big mouth, he knew I was resting peacefully and decided he couldn't go on like that.

— Did he get you a job? He's a part-time job connoisseur – Lin pointed out, finally accepting something from the bartender… Although the glass of water wasn't exactly what the guy wanted to sell her.

— I think so, you're the one who'll tell me.

— Me?

— Yes, he said you needed a pair of hands for something “very proper”.

Lin looked at her, looked around, and looked at her again – He said you wanted to see me because you had no one to get you off the island.

Kya's reputation as a Sociable and Unattainable Diva had just taken a hit from which she would surely not recover. What the hell was going through that old man's head!? Kya had to laugh to hide her embarrassment – That's what he said? For heaven's sake, that old man… It seems he's back to his old ways of matching up friends, how awkward…

Lin shrugged and drank some of her water – I'm used to it.

– Does he do this to you often?

— I'm the only one left in the city, I pay for four.

— I respect you a little more.

That drew a laugh from Lin, one of those spontaneous and short ones, that would surely conquer the unsuspecting, that lady must have been a resounding popular in her social circle, Kya suddenly wanted to see her in her uniform, just to corroborate her point – Okay, I like helping the community.

—And what is life like as a police officer? The last time we saw each other you were just taking your entrance exams for the academy.

—Do you remember that?

—Of course! Tenzin was on the verge of collapse because mom wouldn't let him bring you to the island, “Linlin is busy with something very important, you must learn to give her space” and then he would throw a tantrum everywhere.

— Yeah? Wow… I didn't know that part.

— Understand, he was little and did not know any beauty other than yours, naturally he couldn't stand the abstinence.

— You are exaggerated –Lin finished her water, she seemed to want to sound funny but her mood seemed to have soured with the last thing, Kya always used Tenzin's humiliation as a point of conversation and she usually succeeded, this was new.

— Did they fight?

— Who?

— Tenzin and you, I mean… Normally you'd try not to laugh and defend him or something… Or do they not talk to each other anymore? I haven't talked to him in ages and I don't know how things are in his life.

— Mmm, yeah… It's a bit complicated.

A shifty look, pursed lips and a small sigh… Kya's head went through all the options and came up with two possible scenarios: Tenzin had made one of his stupid shows about the importance of his cultural heritage to downplay some concern of Lin's, ruining their friendship forever or Tenzin had obtained the ultimate level of insanity and cornered by his hormones and distorted perception of reality had bet everything on a confession and had ruined his friendship with Lin forever.

Now she had to figure out which one it was.

—I'm a good listener, and an excellent keeper of secrets.

Lin seemed to think about it, looking around and then at her glass – Well… We were dating and so, things didn’t end well and no… We’re talking.

Congratulations! It was the route to romance! If there was something that Kya valued above all else it was gossip of personal tendency. And on top of that with Tenzin? The sanctimonious man with perfect morals would finally have a dose of his own medicine when they see each other again and he wanted to criticize her for her romantic decisions – Really? Wow… Like… Babe, I didn’t see it coming, I always thought that Tenzin would die alone and a virgin, I mean, he still deserves it anyway. How the hell did he get you to give him a chance? If I didn't know I could die.

– You don’t even hide it, huh? Well… We’ve known each other for… All our lives? We wanted to try… Since it was those things and we said “Since we’re here”, it’s not like I had much to choose from either.

– Aren’t there any good options in the police? And I was thinking of enlisting…

— It's not that... I'm hard to deal with, I can't be demanding.

Kya laughed and patted Lin on the back with the confidence she would make sure to build up – If you need an expert opinion you have me, I've traveled the world and you, sweetheart, are the ones who choose first at the buffet.

That had a good effect, Lin's cheeks took on some color and her tone became less formal, the tough girl image seemed to hide something else and Kya would discover it that night – Whatever you say... I only accepted when he proposed it and I gave... I gave everything? It's not like I was an expert either but... Well, it didn't happen, that's it.

The cute expression faded again and Kya caught the intention behind that meeting, her stupid little brother had broken Lin's heart and her uncle had decided that two scorned girls would be better than one and he had gathered them together so that they would curse or something like that, negative and negative to give a positive, some strange old man's logic. That guy was so bold! Kya would forgive him that time just because she liked the new version of Lin – It didn't happen and that's it? Linda, forgive me for butting in but something tells me that that fool didn't measure up and I leave all the responsibility to you.

— You yourself said that you don't talk to him, you don't know anything about the subject.

There was the old Lin, the one who brought out her claws when they touched her idiot – Look Linlin, I'm his older sister, I changed his diapers and wiped his drool for years, if anyone has some knowledge over him it's me, I won't tell you that I have the last word but... If you allow me I can take some weight off your shoulders, the situation seems to have you tense.

The eldest Beifong snorted and rolled her eyes, they were closing, Kya couldn't allow it – Tense about what? I just don't want to talk about it, we're not friends or anything.

— My memory betrays me, I perfectly remember that you made me a flower crown.

— I was like six years old, it's not relevant.

— Denied. It's totally valid proof that you like me.

— That's all, prosecutor? My witnesses haven't seen you at the scene for at least five years, your point is untenable.

— Your witnesses are bought, I have a receipt for a book sent seven months ago that should rest in the hands of your client.

— “Modern recipes from the lower Earth bowl”? I thought it was a paperweight.

— Hey… Your mother said you liked to cook.

— I don't dislike it, but it's more of an obligation than a hobby.

— You don't have employees? I can't imagine your mother doing housework.

— She did, but she got rid of them when I learned to walk.

— Damn, that's taking “savings” too seriously. Do you get paid properly for it?

— Me? A faithful servant of the community? You offend me.

Kya shook her head dramatically and handed her a cocktail, they were once again friendly – You know, life gave you the power to be the eldest, you should use it and enslave Sulin.

– It's Suyin… And she's a small wild animal, putting a leash on her would already be an achievement.

– Damn, mine also arrived defective. Don't you have any contact to request a refund?

– There is one, but it's not exactly legal.

Laughter. The conversation began to dance between sibling taunts and mothers' complaints, anecdotes about travel and police matters. Kya was very entertained listening to the daily life of a security agent and found joy in Lin's genuine interest in her adventures. Seeing a girl with determination and a career validating her experiences fed her ego. She needed it so much! Perhaps to feel less inferior to her brothers who saw her as a chronic slacker.

The love theme was barely touched upon, as if it were a honeycomb that neither of them wanted to stir up and Kya respected it. At some point she stopped caring about what her brother had done and began to be urged to discover more about Lin, a mostly reserved girl who dedicated a lot of time to her work because she wanted to validate the image of a prodigious daughter of a prodigious mother, who deep down seemed not to know if she really wanted to be a police officer but it was all she knew and she wouldn't back down, with problems dealing with others without getting rigid, who liked to eat wherever she went and had a secret love for flying bison and who, given the opportunity, wouldn't hesitate to steal Oogie, had a strange sense of humor, sometimes very dry and other times very pedagogical, who spoke of her younger sister as if she were her daughter and of her mother as a problematic roommate that she deified.

Lin was quite a character and Kya liked her.

The years that separated them and the childhood that had made them enemies vanished into thin air after three hours of tough talk. Lin would leave there knowing Kya's whole life or she would take her name away. She even managed to convince her to drink, because apparently she wasn't in the habit and well, Kya wouldn't let her leave that meeting without both of them throwing the house out the window.

The cocktails were piling up on the bill and the conversation began to become more clumsy and transparent, Kya found herself talking about her previous girlfriends like a radio ranking and Lin was burning Tenzin as if it were an Olympic sport, that if the girls from the Northern tribe were too dramatic and wanted to get married within a week or that if the youngest bald guy was a pain in the ass dancing and ruined the parties, that if Katara was very lax with her advice and secretly hated not having a more normal daughter or if Toph was crazy and hid it behind physical achievements, none of them seemed to have a brake until it was Izumi's turn, Kya felt a twist in her stomach just thinking about bringing her up in the conversation, that demonic princess who had her crawling on the floor while playing husband and wife with some idiot of the nobility. Well no! She wouldn't give him the pleasure of living in her tongue that night. Kya stood up from the bar and offered her hand to Lin, who had already accumulated so much alcohol that her jacket was gone.

– Come on, let’s dance.

Lin shook her head slightly, in her simple but elegant olive green outfit, Kya didn't accept that answer and made her stand up, the belt accentuated her figure and the small heels crowned the outfit, Kya was beginning to not know what filter she was seeing Lin with... And she wouldn't beat around the bush, that moment was dance time. She took her to the dance floor and told her where to put her hands, discovering her obedient she began a gentle swing, the earthbender didn't take long to coordinate, she quickly retained the instructions and seemed flexible.

Flexible.

Kya was losing the horizon.

They both found their rhythm, Kya put Lin's hands on her waist and hers on her shoulders, looking for her gaze and her knowing smile, thinking about how pretty she would look when she mastered that, confidence gave a seductive air to those features that Lin had to learn to master, Kya could see all that potential, she could see it so well that she refused to let go of her for the rest of the night, song after song they enjoyed it in each other's arms, with sporadic comments and small pauses to drink more or to stagger to the bathroom, when the place closed they were both thrown out. Did they care? Not much, they were dying of laughter and their energy seemed to never go down, Lin kept emphasizing how pretty Kya was and Kya kept getting lost in Lin, in her eyes, in her lips, in her curly hair that was starting to escape from her hairstyle.

Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol but the waterbender had found a little gem and would take care of polishing it to her liking.

Somehow they made it to the port and then to the island, sneaking in so as not to be dragged away by Katara, the good thing about it being so big was that there was no way to keep track of everything. Kya led her new friend through the halls of the east wing straight to her room, Lin apologetically giggling, trying her best to keep her voice down as she flopped onto the bed, her coat had ended up on Kya's shoulders and it didn't look like she was going to get it back.

The waterbender approached the bed and placed a hand on Lin's chest, pushing her to lay her down completely so she could climb on top of her. Lin seemed bewildered for a few seconds, dazzled by the blue eyes of her companion. There were a couple of questions that got stuck in her throat because Kya kissed her, softly and with a touch of tenderness. The hand on her chest slid down to her belt to loosen it, which she was able to do easily with one hand. Kya loved how easy the zippers and clasps were for her, being able to slip her hand into Lin's shirt, discovering a firm abdomen and soft skin. The sigh that caress drew from Lin's lips allowed Kya to introduce her tongue. She wanted to taste her carefully, to treasure the moment as it should be.

Her hands began to work together to bare her chest, it was a good size, enough to fit in her palms, Kya refused to let go of her mouth so she refrained from looking at her breasts a little longer, caressing them with care, finally releasing Lin's mouth only to plant kisses on her neck, the way her skin took color so quickly turned her on more, she wanted to fill her with bites and marks that she would then have to hide under her uniform, but she tried to contain herself, she couldn't be so terrifying the first time. Kya's kisses went down between her breasts to her navel while her fingers grabbed the waistband of her pants and slid them down, just before discovering her mount of Venus Lin was finally able to articulate a word.

The worst of all.

“Tenzin”

The pleasant heat bubbling through Kya's body suddenly cooled, stopping her hands and looking up, those green eyes seemed hazy and lost in the shadows, the alcohol had taken her beyond reality and the waterbender had ignored it, of course a brat who was just discovering adulthood wouldn't know how to master a drink she didn't usually consume. Kya adjusted Lin's pants and got out of bed feeling uncomfortable and annoyed, she had fallen so low that she almost fucked a drunk of questionable age who surely hadn't consented to anything of that nature with another woman before, and on top of that, her younger brother's ex. How the hell did that put her in the existential plane of things? She was any opportunistic man and that made her nauseous.

Kya ended up vomiting in the first bathroom she found, alerting one of the acolytes who was around there. Fortunately, no one seemed to see her enter with Lin, so she let herself be scolded and cared for by her father's students, who managed to dissipate her drunkenness with some strange concoction. The girls didn't let her go until the sun was out, with the promise that they would throw her into the water with Katara for disrespecting the temple like that. Kya slipped out of their hands and went in search of her "almost victim?" She had to apologize and take her home. She was the oldest of the two, she had to redeem herself at all costs. However, when she got to the room, Lin was not there. Her coat was there, but she was not.

Kya felt panic in her stomach and held back the renewed urge to vomit, starting to walk through the halls nervously, avoiding anyone who wanted to get close to her, she didn't want anyone else to intercept Lin, much less her mother, her life could be doomed if that happened. In the end she gave up on the interior and went out in search of the port, she also tended to run away when she woke up in strange places, however she didn't get very far when a familiar bison snorted at her, it wasn't Appa at least, but Oogie.

The flying bug was dozing, blocking one of the paths that led to the grove surrounding the building. Kya slipped into the trees, pulled by an unknown force, until she got a wider view. Her brother, her beloved brother Tenzin, was next to one of the fountains, wiping Lin's face with a handkerchief. The girl was sitting on the edge of the well, looking feverish. Kya felt it like a punch to the stomach. The way that idiot was touching her skin, with an alien affection, seemed so adult, so responsible. Lin stopped him and said something that only he could hear. His response? Taking her by the chin and planting a kiss on her lips, a real kiss, reciprocated with all the lucidity that his hangover would allow him.

Kya turned away not wanting to see more, she needed to get her stomach back up somewhere or she would get sick, but when she came out from between the trees it was no longer just Oogie who was waiting for her but Katara, with her arms crossed and a frown.

— Where were you?

— Over there…

— Over there? Does this look like a hostel to you? We don't live alone, Kya, we owe respect to those who help us and you're not giving it to them.

The young bender rolled her eyes and wanted to run away, remembering why she didn't like spending time in that place, everything was so restrictive and… Annoying, on her trips she only owed respect to herself, without unnecessary scolding – No… It won't happen again.

— Of course not, you'll return to the South Pole with your uncle.

— Excuse me?

— I spoke to him, he'll have a couple of meetings there and you need something to occupy yourself, free time isn't helping you… Tenzin?

Kya felt her stomach worsen, turning around she saw the aforementioned with a frown even more than her mother, leaning under his arm was Lin, pale and with an affected face, she looked so bad that Kya felt that the guilt would never leave her body, her shirt was buttoned so no one would see the marks of her sin… And that was suspicious, Lin couldn't have done so well in his condition. Would Tenzin have done it?

— You – Tenzin began pointing at his sister as if she were a criminal – What the hell is going through your head? – The aforementioned felt her body shudder. Would Lin have given her away? Of course she would, her reputation would be buried with her that day and no one would ever remember the loser in the middle – Just because you don't know how to spend time without being high on alcohol doesn't mean you force others to follow you. Aren't you ashamed?

— I don't… I thought that… It would be fun.

The answer turned Tenzin's expression into one of displeasure, that unhappy brat who now had a budding beard and nomad height looked at her as if she were a bug, crowned by his long-awaited tattoos was a bad reflection of Aang, Kya did not want him, of all people, to be the one to judge her - I would appreciate it if you kept your customs away from my girlfriend.

And he would have said more, Kya knew he wanted to say more, but Lin faded away and everyone ran to take her inside, she was almost two days under Katara's care because her body could not tolerate the amount of alcohol she ingested the night before, Sokka put Kya up to the limit with the sermon he gave her, forbidding her to approach the eldest of the Beifong until she controlled her problem with drinking and reluctantly took her to the South Pole, Kya spent all that time feeling that karma had come into her life with a whip and would not let her go until she had removed all her skin.

Once the cold of the poles began to chill her bones, a letter from Lin reached her hands, triggering anxiety in her. She knew that everything was just a prelude, her head still had to be claimed.

“For Kya.

I must admit that I didn't expect everything that happened, I thought I would see you and we would put up with each other for a few minutes before it was too much for us and we would pretend to have an engagement each to never see each other again, it was fun and new, I hadn't done anything like that with someone before, now I understand why people love being with you. You are charismatic.

I regret how it all ended, I should have recognized my limits and stopped in time, I put you all in a predicament because of my carelessness, I don't know how but I will apologize properly, thank you for taking care of me and not leaving me stranded on the street, if you ever need a hand in Republic City keep me in mind, I will not fail you.

Sincerely, Lin Beifong”.

Kya reread the letter over and over, ignoring meetings with her uncle and old friends who tried to intercept it, like a detective with a key piece in her hands she analyzed the words and their meaning, in the end her conclusion was bittersweet: Lin remembered nothing.

What had happened in the room lived only in her memory.

And for her sake, she would die there.

🌃

(I didn't want to make Lin look like a little girl lost in the world, so she tries to balance her inexperience with her mastery. It's meant to be a one-shot, but I feel like in the end I'm going to spend more chapters, at least one more where karma ends up dragging Kya down.)

[thetreefairy]

I hope you're having a good day/night. Platonic Aizawa and Present mic where the reader had abusive ‘Christianity’ parents because of her quirk (I’m going to say two blood manipulation, and you can pick the other one), and they threw her in a foster home because she was the ‘devil spawn’ or something and they put her in a foster home that’s where she met Hitoshi. So years later, the parents show up and ‘apologize’ and want to start new again. They didn’t mean that they needed her for money, or they could sell her to some rich guy who would pay for her since she had two quirks and was young and pretty.

I don't know but I am worried that this is based of your real life with the trauma around christianity, so if you want to vent about anything my dms are open </3, also requests will take more time due to my studyin' gn!AFAB! reader Warnings: abusive themes, christianity, yandere themes, shouting, arranged marriage attempted, abuse of power, transphobia, misgendering, implied murder

Reader's quirks:

Blood manipulation, kinda like the blood-bending from A:TLA.

neuroelectric interfacing, like wanda you can read people's mind and awake their deepest nightmares.

m/n - mothers name

f/n - fathers name

Reader used to love their birth parents with all their heart. When they gave them up for fostercare because their quirks were too demonic, their heart broke.

Their heart broke in a million pieces, but Reader's heart broke even more then they saw Shinso Hitoshi come into fostercare. They became friends due to their shared trauma, they trained together and they soon became siblings.

Their caretakers saw that, and they told all who even wanted to take one of the two in, that the two are not to be seperated.

So when the two pro-heroes; eraserhead and Present mic wanted to take the two in, the caretakers couldn't help but do a happy dance. Erasermic loved hitoshi, yes. But due to how he spoke about Reader they couldn't help but fall in love with them as well.

So when reader finally became comfortable enough to share their trauma surrounding religion and their concern about 'tainting' Eri.

The yandere tendencies started to become worse.

"Me and Reader are going out to that cat café we wanted to try!" Hitoshi shouted towards the living room while the two were putting on their jackets. "Alright, but don't make any detours and be home before dinner!" Hizashi shouted back at them with a smile. The timing was great, since Reader's biological parents wanted to have a chat with them.

But when the two opened the door, Reader's birth parents were infront of them. "My child, what have you grown!" The woman shouted while trying to grab Reader's hands, which caused Hitoshi to stand between them. "Don't touch them." He hissed, causing the woman to step back in surprise. Reader was frozen, they couldn't move and they didn't know how to react.

"Why, boy! We are her parents!"

"No, you aren't, you gave up those rights when you put them in fostercare. And they go by they/them pronouns so watch it." Shota said in a harsh tone, putting his hand on reader's shoulder, trying his best to be comforting. "My husband and I have granted you your request to speak to us, Reader and Shinso will not be presented for that conversation."

Hizashi and him wanted to keep the conversation a secret as to see what they wanted first, before bringing Reader's hopes up. "Do not forget, that they are legally our child." Hizashi chimed in.

M/n and f/n walked into the house, causing Reader to hide behind Shota and causing Hitoshi to shield them with his body. Glaring at the two adults. "Well this concerns reader's future!" M/n shouted, causing Reader to flinch. "Yes, we have found a way to rid her of her sins!" F/n tried to announce excitedly. "I would watch what you call them, and watch what you say."

Hitoshi hugged them thight, looking for a way to get reader and himself out of this situation. But he knew what quirk f/n had, and he didn't want Reader to see him use that quirk. Afterall it had been used to torture them.

"You just need to marry our high priest! He will clench your soul, reader! It is the perfect-"

"Get out." Hizashi said, his voice calm. The couple didn't listen and tried to get closer to Reader again. Reader activated their second quirk, causing the two to stand still while they see their nightmares. Hitoshi saw this as the perfect time to get them the fuck out of there.

He knew the look in their dads eyes, this wasn't going to end well, and Reader needs to stay in the dark about it.

When the two teenagers were upstairs and Hizashi texted hitoshi to blast some music. "That devil!" f/n shouted when the two were back to normal. "Oh, what hypocrits." Shota chuckled. "How dare you! We must live in gods light and we need to cleanse Reader's soul!" M/n shouted. Hizashi scoffed. "Well, you'll see soon enough if your god even wants you."

[sohannabarberaesque]

Now which among Hanna-Barbera's Funtastic stable of characters could you imagine advertising Foster Grant sunglasses in this classic vein:

[pollenallergie]

I miss billy so let’s remember his presence

He gets his haircut for the first time and he apologizes for the mess of hair on the ground and offers to sweep it up

He knows what it’s like to be on the streets so he’ll spare any pocket change he has

He hopes one day he’ll be well enough to talk to troubles teens and young adults about mental health and stability

Always saves the last slice of mushroom pizza for you

You taught him patience and he taught you kindness -♌️

awwww the image of like a five- or six-year-old billy getting his hair cut for the first time since his mum passed (and like it’s been a couple years since she passed… so his hair is very long and he has absolutely no memory of what getting his hair cut is like because, the last time he got it cut, he was just for the memory to properly form and remain in his lovely mind) and like just being sooo apologetic about the fact that his lovely blonde (he was a blonde at that age, but his hair got darker as he got older) hair was all over the floor. he offers to sweep it up and the barber just melts because what six year old does that??? what kid just offers to sweep the floor because they feel so guilty about the mess that they didn’t even make (it’s not like he cut his own hair!)?? from then on, billy got free haircuts from that barber. even now, as a fully grown adult, that barber still offers to give billy a free haircut whenever he visits Woolstone (the village he grew up in).

and yesssss he’s so charitable and generous!!! he’d give someone in need the shirt off his back at a moments notice, all they’d need to do is ask. he visits the friends he made while he was homeless (all of various ages, some as old as 80, some as young as 19) at the local shelters, halfway houses, and even at their own places, for the lucky ones who’ve miraculously managed to get out of homelessness like he did. he checks in on them often, asking if they have enough food, if they need a place to sleep, making sure they’re in good health, etc. he knows just how to check in on them without raising up any of their walls (instead of asking if they have food at home, he simply asks if they’d like to come over for dinner that night whenever he sees them, claiming that he’ll have heaps of extra food because he doesn’t know how to cook for only two people - granted, that’s not a total lie - and, when they except, he’s sure to send them home with more than just the leftover dinner from that night… he sends them home with any food in the pantry that you two were willing to part with - you keep an abundance of canned food stocked in there for that very reason -, with extra toiletries that he just so happened to have lying around your flat - again, you two keep that kind of thing in abundance for this very reason -, anything and everything they could possibly need).

and awww he would be so good at working with like troubled youth!! he’d be so patient and compassionate and accepting and supportive and kind. and he’d talk to them like they’re his equals (because in his eyes, they are… he’s been in their shoes before… he knows what it’s like… he doesn’t at all see himself as better off or more superior than them, just as someone who has learned to better care for themself through over two decades of agonizing trial and error). all the kids at the local rec/community centre would adore billy.

maybe the two of you would even foster some of the kids from his work? the ones that seem to have the hardest time finding a safe place to land. the ones that need the most help. the ones no one else will reach out to. the ones everyone thinks are doomed to spend their adulthoods either behind bars or on the streets. billy gives those kids a second chance, a third chance, as many chances as it takes because he knows that they just need to know that someone, at least one person, isn’t going to give up on them.

and of course he saves the last slice of pizza for you!! like you said, he’s generous! if he’s making himself something to eat, he makes some for you too by default just in case you might want any. if he’s snuggled up under a blanket on the sofa and you plop down next to him, he’s quick to wrap the blanket around you too. billy loves to share things with you, so anything that’s his is yours too (much like anything that’s yours is his too… because well… to love is to share and you love billy a whole damn lot).

billy’s the sweetest man <3

thank you for sharing these headcanons!! i love the way you see billy/write for him!

[chipen]

@venstm - ( con't )

HE'S  LIKE  A  SPECTRE  -  DRESSED  IN  WHITE,  SILKY  hair  the  color  of  fresh  snow,  blue  eyes  glowing  beneath  the  lights.  he  gets  it  now  -  gets  the  way  that  dabi  haunts  him:  his  own,  personal  phantom,  representing  the  love  that  hawks'  would  never  be  granted.  it  was  strange  -  now  that  he  reflected  on  it.  his  mother  didn't  really  love  him,  despite  all  he'd  done,  his  father  certainly  wasn't  even  on  the  table.  his  fans  loved  him,  sure,  in  the  way  that  you  loved  something  untouchable  -  that  seemed  perfect,  flawless,  and  guarded  you  from  the  nasty  underbelly  of  the  world.  but  he'd  never  cared  about  that.  it  really  was  the  cruelest  of  fates  for  someone  like  hawks  to  have  placed  his  heart  in  the  hands  of  endeavor's  villainous  son,  who  had  incinerated  it  the  same  moment  he'd  marred  his  wings.  hawks  knew  he  wasn't  innocent,  but  where  his  situation  with  dabi  had  bloomed  emotion  in  the  cold  part  of  him  again,  that  little  bud  of  hope  he'd  fostered  had  gone  up  in  flames  with  his  precious  plumage.  it  was  almost  poetic.

the  warmth  of  him  is  as  familiar  as  breathing,  his  back  tensing  with  the  proximity,  tiny  wings  flinching  and  shuddering  the  same  moment  his  breath  hitches  with  a  hiss.  caramel  gaze  is  sharp,  watching  the  villain's  movements  in  the  mirror  with  the  same  intensity  as  his  avian  namesake,  before  he  simply  sighs.  ❝ y'know  i  don't  like  when  you  stand  behind  me.  'specially  now. ❞   it's  hard  not  to  keep  the  venom  from  his  tongue,  the  vague  flash  of  sharp  teeth  a  clear  threat.  but  as  quick  as  his  anger  blooms  -  it's  gone,  replaced  by  the  million  dollar  question  and  the  brush  of  silky  lips  over  his  scarred  nape.

it's  so  macabre  he  could  cry.

it  makes  him  pause,  wrestling  with  the  birdlike  instincts  that  recognize  dabi  as  familiar,  safe,  warm,  a  match...  they  compromise,  the  human  and  avian  parts  of  him.  a  hand  raises,  taloned  fingertips  arching  backwards,  sliding  through  starlight  hair  to  grip  lightly  at  the  back  of  his  skull.  with  the  movement,  hawks  angles  his  half-naked  form  into  him,  pressed  to  his  chest  -  uncaring  as  his  staples  catch  on  newly  formed  burn  scars  or  agitate  those  pathetic,  flightless  wings.  he  hates  how  his  name  sounds  on  dabi's  tongue  -  hates  that  in  another  life,  it  could  have  been  whispered  sweetly,  instead  of  weaponized  against  him.  but  he  doesn't  hate  him.  and  that  knowledge?  it  does  something  to  hawks  -  to  keigo  takami.  slowly,  he  starts  to  shake,  from  the  heels  of  his  feet  all  the  way  up  to  his  shoulders,  until  his  entire  frame  vibrates  with  the  energy  -  and  the  laughter  that  bursts  forth  from  his  chest  is  raw  and  humorless.  as  he  stands  there  -  in  his  dimly  lit  bathroom  -  with  his  hands  in  touya  todoroki's,  the  villain  dabi's,  hair  -  hawks  laughs,  and  laughs,  and  laughs.

❝ you're  truly  fucked  in  the  head  if  you  think  i  could  ever  hate  you  at  all. ❞   he  says  finally,  after  his  body  ceases  erupting  with  that  cacophony  of  painful  humor.  his  grip  loosens,  talons  scraping  along  his  scalp  almost  lovingly.  and  then,  hawks  turns  slowly,  back  resting  against  the  counter  top  as  that  same  hand  drifts  down  to  grip  lightly  at  dabi's  jaw.  there,  he  lets  gold  and  blue  clash,  and  hawks'  gaze  is  a  warm  -  solemn  thing,  punctuated  by  a  nonchalant  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  ❝ i  forgive  you,  touya  todoroki. ❞

[maytheoddshq]

Salacia Bonny (she/her). District Four Tribute. Twenty-two. Tamala Shelton.

The world of Panem had never been kind to girls like Salacia Bonny — girls with soft hearts, girls with romantic little souls, girls whose minds were ruled by things like compassion and serenity instead of blood and violence. Furthermore, given that she was born in one of the infamous career districts, it would’ve been a child’s play to lose all traces of humanity and succumb to the propagandistic mindset of a vicious killer. The daughter of the sea, however, had, at a young age, learned to withstand even the hardest of storms; the cruelty of the world was yet another such challenge, at the face of which she would remain steadily rooted and laugh off its attempts to throw her overboard. Much of the credit for developing that way belonged to her parents, her two dads who adored their beloved firstborn like no other. They might not have been her family by blood, but they were her parents in all the ways that mattered — and they never failed to shower Salacia with an abundance of support and kind words.

To put it simply, the Bonnys utilized genuine love and happiness as cornerstones for Salacia’s childhood — a decision that marked them as different in the cutthroat environment of a career district. Although Dave and Ray knew better than to publicly voice their opinions, they were both vehemently opposed to the Hunger Games and held the Capitol in great distaste; in the privacy of their own home, they agreed to raise their child the same way and pray to whoever listened that she’d naturally absorb the imparted wisdom. Much to their relief, that was precisely the kind of person young Salacia was. There was no eagerness for a taste of bloodied glory; instead, what she developed and became well-known for was her helper’s heart. As a young child, she shed tears for caught fish who could no longer return to their mamas and papas. She always found time to aid turtles and other sea animals, who’d wandered too far off from the sea, so they’d find their way back to the comforting arms of the ocean. This kindness and readiness to help extended to humans too. At school, she was always willing to lend a hand to a struggling classmate, always welcoming a seemingly lonely person under her wing; she made friends wherever she went and treated everyone with kindness, regardless of their origin. All were equally valuable in her world.

Despite the large social circle she’d gathered over the years, Salacia’s heart belonged, first and foremost, to her family. Whenever she was not busy with schoolwork or helping with Dave’s family’s pearl collecting company or spending time with her friends, she could be found helping around the Bonny family’s home — and help did she have to. Since before she could form concrete memories, despite the fact that the Bonny family consisted of Dave, Ray and Salacia, their household had been a busy one, always full of life and laughter. The reason behind this was Dave and Ray’s unofficial orphanage and safe house that they ran to help the less fortunate children of Four. Since she was able, Salacia participated actively; she directed those in need of help to their address, ensured there was always food for hungry mouths, helped them find their footing in her life by offering advice or a coin if she could. This didn’t grant her with much privacy or time for herself, but it wasn’t something Salacia sought much, for she was quite content with the pathway her life was taking. She got to experience companionship and love, got to witness the concrete positive effects her actions could have on others, got to be around her found family on a daily basis — what more could she want?

However, as idyllic as her childhood was, the world never let them forget that they still lived in Panem and that District Four fostered a winning culture of careers. In order to conceal their anti-Capitol sentiments, to ensure no one would cast any doubt upon their family, Dave and Ray enrolled Salacia in the Training Academy as soon as she became age eligible. Do well, my little pearl, they murmured as they pressed soft kisses on top of her head, but don’t attract too much attention and never volunteer. That was another life lesson Salacia took to her heart. She performed well enough, as expected of a child of her social status; she showed that her fighting skills could be as disarming as her natural charm. She had no problems with spewing the pro-Games propaganda when in public, putting on an extremely convincing front of a quietly confident career eager to bring glory back to the fishing district. Not once did she believe a word of what was said, though — and when it came to physical performance, Salacia underperformed just enough to go unnoticed, ranking among the bottom half of the top ten of her class. That left enough people ahead of her who would either get chosen to volunteer or volunteer without a warning. She could breeze through her remaining years of eligibility, age out of the Games, and continue her life the way it’d unfolded so far. The Games were unfair, yes, but what could she, a simple girl from Four, alone do? Her efforts of bettering the world were better focused on helping the people of her district.

Like many others all across their nation, the 134th Hunger Games would become somewhat of a monumental event for Salacia. In the beginning, they barely held any intrigue for her beyond their regular years. Slate’s presence added an interest factor, but it wasn’t him Salacia ended up rooting for the most. No, it was the tragic story of two women in love from District Eleven that sank its teeth into her heart and refused to let go. Salacia watched Bramble and Nettle as they progressed through training, interviews and then the gruelling arena; and even though the hope for their survival waned each day, she was nevertheless devastated by the way they both went out — even if she could understand and agree with their reasoning. Further devastation was wrecked upon her as she, like everyone else, witnessed the events that followed the crowning of the controversial winner. An entire district obliterated, just like that, simply because a rebel victor hailed from there. Horror and cruelty could not even begin to describe it. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could justify that sort of solution to a problem. Because of that, from the ashes of devastation grew something greater — determination. Salacia might be one girl in a sea of thousands, but she had to do something. She couldn’t sit idle when the rebellion was brewing; she had to figure out a way to participate. She had to. She had to.

Thankfully, she discovered a way to achieve just that — thanks to her dads. One day, entirely by accident, for they thought she was still asleep, Salacia overheard Dave and Ray discussing in hushed tones the fates of Cherry which, as it turned out, was a nickname for Bramble and Nettle among the Vox Populi. So there really was a rebellion and her dads were involved, even though they had not breathed a word to Salacia. Why, she didn’t know, but ultimately it did not matter; she felt inspired nevertheless. She didn’t bring the topic up with her dads, but behind their backs, she went and commissioned herself a cherry blossom ring. Innocuous enough that those not involved could not connect the dots; laden with enough symbolism so it could be portrayed as a symbol of that; yet visible enough that if any rebels were to see her, they’d know Salacia Bonny stood with their cause.

The 135th Hunger Games were not supposed to be anything out of the ordinary for her. She arrived to the reaping ceremony with the ranking #7 of her class; a decent achievement, though it would take another few cycles before it was any of their turn to volunteer unprompted or get chosen to volunteer by the Training Academy. Salacia stood with the rest of the 22-year-olds, going through motions, right until Four’s escort called out the name of the second tribute — Nemo Fisher. Immediately, Salacia’s blood ran cold. She knew that name, knew the boy. Nemo was one of the children the Bonnys had helped; a tall, lanky kid in that awkward phase of growing who, nevertheless, had a heart of gold. What was even worse was that he was only 12 years old. Only 12. 12. With a thundering heart and no thoughts beyond the intense need to save Nemo, Salacia’s hand shot up and from her mouth came the fateful words:

I volunteer as tribute.

If you ask her, she can barely remember what happened after that. She must have walked to the stage, her face an impassive mask concealing her inner turmoil. She must have been announced publicly as tribute, hailed as one of the new hopes who would bring the brightest crown back to their district. She can’t remember anything else, can’t remember seeing her fathers’ faces in the crowd. All Salacia can feel is the cherry blossom ring around her right middle finger and the all-consuming question in her mind:

Did I just sign my death sentence?

District token: A cherry blossom ring

Strengths & weaknesses: (+) altruistic, compassionate, principled / (-) anxious, deceitful, overly empathetic

PENNED BY: HANNA

[sareisnot]

Wall-E: The Best and Worst of Humanity on Display

For a children’s movie, Wall-E presents quite a dim prospect for humanity. Its two major settings, that being the ruined, trash filled earth, and the hyper-capitalist, hedonistic nightmare of the Axiom cruise ship, serve as quite blunt criticisms of modern society’s current trajectory. It anticipates a future in which our capitalistic systems propel towards our worst, most wasteful instincts, and reduce the planet to such a state that the best solution the corporatocratic government can come up with is, “just get out of dodge before it gets worse.” But old habits die hard, as the large-scale apathy, lethargy, and alienation seen on the Axiom proves. In WALL-E's very pointed opinion, our current practices, and the systems that foster those practices, only serve to further distance us from our humanity, preventing us from experiencing the true joys of life, and rejecting fulfillment for convenience.

The film’s thesis statement can be found in the words of the Axiom’s captain: “That’s all anyone on this blasted ship has ever done…I don’t want to survive! I wanna LIVE!” To simply pursue what best fosters your existence, the film says, is no way to move through life, at least not without sacrificing a bit of yourself on the way. Every character who helps WALL-E and EVE along, be they human or robot, has chosen to act on their emotional wants, rather than their objective drives. M-O and the other robots stray from their programming to help the couple, the Captain rejects Auto’s doctrine of survival, and even the gigantic WALL-A's stop collecting trash for a moment, to provide the heroes with some light. But in this universe, pursuing fulfillment is to fight against the tide. In this exaggerated version of our current capitalist, commercialized, proto-dystopia, there is no place for emotional drive, because it hinders practicality. At its core, WALL-E is a warning, that if we continue to chase this toxic instinct, then we will inevitably be relegated to a species of glorified dopamine receptors.

Despite this rather dreary warning, the film still maintains a boundless optimism. As a matter of fact, the film is bursting with hope, positivity, and most prominently, love. The film's emotional core, that being relationship between WALL-E and EVE, is also where one can find humanity's most redemptive quality: connection. The relationships that we forge, and the meaningful interactions that we have with others, are where the spirit of humanity is defined and fostered. All throughout the film, WALL-E and EVE, through their love, continuously bring humanity out of each other. At one point, EVE tosses away the plant, which had served as the film's primary motivator up to then, to communicate that she refuses to leave WALL-E behind. Their connection has inspired her to reject what is objectively best and choose love. This kind of choice is eventually what saves WALL-E, as EVE restores his unique personality in the end with a “kiss.” It is only through their love and connection that they find the motivation to finally return the plant and chart a course back to earth, saving humanity from slow decline. It is the culmination of the films several moments in which connection, compassion, and love are the motivators. “Define Dancing,” arguably the film’s most stunning scene, features WALL-E and EVE dancing with each other in space, for no other reason than to enjoy each other's company, and the life they have been granted. In turn, witnessing this scene is what causes John and Mary, the secondary human couple, to meet each other, and continue a dual arc of rediscovering their agency, which is initially sparked by WALL-E, but is maintained by their connection. WALL-E inspires EVE, who inspires The Captain, who inspires the rest of humanity, and eventually leads them back to their home. It is through this web of knock-on effects, the film states, that we can recover from even the direst of circumstances. We can never fully lose this aspect of humanity, even as we tread further into the seemingly inhuman future, because it is a quintessential, necessary part of our fundamental being. If connection is possible, the human spirit will endure, even if there are no more humans to carry it.

[reshmaguide]

UAE Visit Visa: Your Gateway to an Enriching Experience

The United Arab Emirates (UAE) has become a global hub for tourism, business, and cultural exchange. Whether you're planning a leisurely vacation, a business trip, or a family visit, obtaining a UAE Visit Visa is your key to unlocking the wonders of this vibrant country.

Introduction

Definition of UAE Visit Visa

A UAE Visit Visa is an official authorization granted by the UAE government, allowing individuals to enter and stay in the country for a specified period. It serves as a gateway for tourists, business professionals, and those eager to explore the rich cultural tapestry of the UAE.

Importance of UAE Visit Visa

The significance of a UAE Visit Visa lies in its role as the entry ticket to a world of possibilities. From the towering skyscrapers of Dubai to the serene beaches of Abu Dhabi, this visa opens doors to unparalleled experiences.

Brief Overview of the Application Process

Before delving into the specifics, let's take a quick look at the general process of applying for a UAE Visit Visa. The application is primarily done online, and applicants must adhere to certain requirements.

Types of UAE Visit Visa

Tourist Visa

Ideal for those seeking a leisurely escape, the Tourist Visa allows individuals to explore the UAE's top tourist attractions. It is typically issued for a short duration, making it perfect for vacations.

Business Visa

For professionals aiming to engage in business activities within the UAE, the Business Visa is the go-to option. It facilitates networking, meetings, and exploration of business opportunities.

Family Visit Visa

Designed for individuals who wish to visit their relatives in the UAE, the Family Visit Visa fosters family reunions by allowing a specified period of stay.

Eligibility Criteria

General Requirements

Irrespective of the visa type, there are general eligibility criteria that applicants must meet. These include a valid passport, a completed application form, and proof of financial means.

Specific Requirements for Each Visa Type

Each visa category has its unique set of requirements. For instance, a Tourist Visa might require proof of hotel reservations, while a Business Visa may demand an invitation letter from a UAE-based company.

Application Process

Online Application

The UAE has streamlined the visa application process by introducing an online platform. Applicants can submit their applications, pay fees, and track the status of their visa online, ensuring a hassle-free experience.

Required Documents

Accurate and thorough documentation is crucial for a successful visa application. This section will delve into the specific documents needed for each visa type, offering a comprehensive guide.

Processing Time

Understanding the processing time is essential for planning your visit. We'll discuss the average time it takes for a visa to be processed and provide tips on expediting the process when needed.

Common Challenges and Solutions

Document Verification Issues

Many applicants face challenges related to document verification. We'll address common issues and provide solutions to ensure a smooth verification process.

Processing Delays

Delays in visa processing can be frustrating. We'll explore the common reasons behind processing delays and offer tips on avoiding them.

Rejections and Appeals

In unfortunate cases of visa rejections, we'll guide you on the appeals process, helping you understand the reasons behind rejections and the steps to rectify them.

Tips for a Successful Application

Thorough Documentation

The devil is in the details. We'll emphasize the importance of providing comprehensive and accurate documentation to increase the chances of visa approval.

Planning in Advance

Timely planning is crucial for a successful visit. We'll share tips on planning your trip well in advance, from booking flights to securing accommodation.

Professional Assistance

For those overwhelmed by the intricacies of the application process, seeking professional assistance can be a game-changer. We'll discuss the benefits of hiring experts to navigate the complexities.

Exploring UAE on a Visit Visa

Top Tourist Attractions

From the iconic Burj Khalifa to the historical Al Fahidi Fort, we'll guide you through the must-visit attractions in the UAE.

Business Opportunities

For business travelers, we'll explore the thriving business landscape of the UAE, offering insights into potential opportunities and networking events.

Cultural Experiences

Immerse yourself in the rich culture of the UAE. We'll highlight cultural events, festivals, and experiences that make a visit truly enriching.

Conclusion

In conclusion, obtaining a dubai express visa opens doors to a world of opportunities, whether you seek adventure, business ventures, or precious family moments. By understanding the intricacies of the application process, overcoming common challenges, and following our tips, your journey to the UAE can be seamless and unforgettable.

FAQs

Q: How long can I stay on a UAE Visit Visa?

A: The duration of stay varies depending on the visa type. We'll provide insights into the allowed stay for each category.

Q: Can I extend my visit visa?

A: Extension options are available for certain visa types. We'll outline the extension process and eligibility criteria.

Q: What are the fees associated with a visit visa?

A: Understanding the financial aspect is crucial. We'll break down the fees associated with each visa type, including application and processing fees.

Q: Are there any restrictions on activities during the visit?

A: Some activities may be restricted on a visit visa. We'll highlight common restrictions to ensure visitors are well-informed.

Q: Can I convert a visit visa to a work visa?

A: For those considering long-term opportunities, we'll discuss the possibility of converting a visit visa to a work visa and the necessary steps involved.