#yeah same author as the song of achilles

[ramunnae]

the new 'Epic: The Musical' saga is so peak. i don't think I'll analyse the whole thing but i want to talk about a line I really liked.

in 'Suffering' -> Odysseus is obviously playing with the siren whose acting as Penelope, and he says 'Oh for you I would die, but won't you let me stay dry?'

in 'Thunder Bringer' -> he's given the choice of dying or sacrificing his crew, and he chooses to sacrifice his crew. he's given the choice to die AND stay dry (of more of his crew's blood on his hands). despite asking to stay dry previously, saying he'd die for Penelope (even if only to play with the siren), he doesn't. despite repeating 'please dont make me do this' (another call back, to The Horse and The Infant), he cannot bring himself to make the just choice, he's gone too far already.

even at the start of the saga he says he'd die for others, but he says it only as a joke. i love that we're starting act 2 by sealing everything we heard in 'No Longer You' and 'Monster' at the end of act 1.

[prolibytherium]

I never touched it but I feel like i only ever hear positive things said about song of achilles.. in (rough strokes at least) what makes it dogshit to you?

Okay it's been a while since I actually read it so some of this might not be spot on accurate. Sorry if at any point I say 'the book never does xyz' and it actually does once or twice but I think my underlying criticisms are accurate

-Patroclus is made into like this soft gentle tender quivering little yaoi boy. In the source text, he's shown as compassionate and moved by the suffering of his own men (and apparently having some medical skill, tending to the wounded in the camp), but very much invested n combat and very, very good at it (pages worth of descriptions of the guys he's killing left and right). In this, the arguably more complex character from this 8th century BC text is flattened into Being A Healer, he doesn't want to go to war he just wants to help people, he only goes because Achilles has to but he doesn't want to fight he's a HEALER he's a gentle lover NOT A FIGHTER who just wants to help he just wants to help everyone around him he HEALS while Achilles is a doomed warrior who is so good at fighting and KILLING its a DICHOTOMY GUYS!!!LIKE THE BEAUTIFUL SUN AND MOON DOOMED LOVERS SO SAD patocluse HEALER . (I Think he's specifically characterized as being BAD at fighting but might be misremembering)

-I don't remember much about Achilles' characterization I think it just makes him less of a jackass while not adding anything of interest and levels out into being mad boring.

-Not getting into the literal millenias old debate whether the mythological characters Achilles and Patroclus were being characterized as some type of lover by the original oral sources of the Iliad or its Homeric writers. We will never know. We don't even know what (if any) culturally accepted conventions of male homosexuality existed in bronze age Greece (we know much more about their descendants). But there are some interesting elements of their characterization in this direction, with how unconventional their relationship is WITHIN the text itself- Patroclus is described as cooking for Achilles and his guests (very specifically a woman/wife's job), Achilles chides Patroclus like a father, but there's also scene where Achilles' mourning of him directly echoes a passage of Hector's wife mourning her husband, Patroclus is explicitly stated to Achilles' elder, and is overall treated as his equal or near-equal, closest confidant and most beloved friend (to the point that pederastic classical Greeks would debate over who was erastes (older authority figure lover) and who was eromenos (adolescent 'beloved')- many took it as a given that this text depicted their present-day cultural norms of homosexual behavior but it existed so Outside of these norms that it had to be debated who was who). Their relationship is non-standard both within the text and to the descendants of the civilization that wrote them.

Basically what I'm saying is this book had opportunities to like, explore the unconventionality of the relationship (being presented here as explicitly lovers), explore the dynamics of why Patroclus wants to do 'women's work' (besides being a tenderhearted softboy), the weird dynamics where they take on paternal roles to each other but also roles of wives, how they feel about being this way, and just kind of Doesn't. Which I guess isn't an intrinsic fault (because it omits much of what I just talked about to begin with). it's just like.... Lame. This book takes jsut abandons everything interesting about the source text in favor of flattening it into bland Doomed Yaoi.

-The conflict that sets off the core story of the Iliad is Achilles and Agamemnon fighting over Briseis, an enslaved Trojan woman taken by Achilles as a war-trophy, Achilles spends most of the story moping because he was dishonored by his 'trophy' being taken. Achilles and Patroclus and everyone else are raping their captives, all the women in the story are either captured Trojans (or in the case of the free women within the walls of Troy, soon to be enslaved, and are slave owners themselves). Slavery as an institution and extreme patriarchal conventions are innate to the text and reflective of the context in which it was developed. You cannot avoid it.

But obviously you can't have your soft yaoi boys doing this, so the author has them capturing women to Protect Them from the other men. Their slaves are UNDER THEIR PROTECTION and VERY SAFE (and they might even Like And Befriend Them but I might be misremembering that. Briseis does though). Our heroes have apparently absorbed none of the ideals of the culture they exist in and the author seems to think "they're gay and aren't sexually attracted to their captives" would translate to them being outright benevolent (also as if wartime sexual violence is just about attraction and not part of a wider spectrum of violent acts to dehumanize and brutalize an accepted 'enemy')

In the source text, Briseis mourns Patroclus as being the kindest to her of her captors, who tried to get her a slightly better outcome by getting her married to Achilles (which probably would be the Least Bad of all possible outcomes for a woman in that situation, becoming a legal wife instead of a slave), and wonders what will happen to her now that he's gone. This is a really really sad, horrible, and compelling dynamic which could be fleshed out in very interesting ways but is instead is tossed entirely aside in favor of them being Besties. Like brother and sister.

All of the above pisses me off so much. If you don't want to engage in the icky parts of ancient/bronze age Greece then don't write a retelling of a story taking place in bronze age Greece. I'm not gonna get mad at children's adaptations of Greek myths or silly fun stories loosely based on them for omitting the rape and slavery but it is SO fundamental to the Iliad. If you're not willing to handle it, either fully omit it or better yet set your Iliad inspired yaoi in an invented swords-and-sandals setting where you can have all your heartbreaking tragic doomed lovers plot beats and not have to clumsily write around the women they're brutalizing.

-The author didn't seem to know what to do with Thetis and she made her just like, Achilles bitch mother who spends most of the story trying to separate our Yaoi Boys (iirc her disguising Achilles as a girl and hiding him on Scyros is made to be more about getting him away from Patroclus than trying to save her son from his prophesied doom in the Trojan War) until she sees how much they loooove each other and I think helps Patroclus' spirit get to the afterlife or something in the end?

-This is more of a personal taste gripe but it has that writing style I loathe where the prose feels less like a story and more like an attempt to string together Deep Beautiful Hard Hitting Poetic Lines that will look great as excerpts on booktok (might predate booktok but same vibe). It's all very Pretty and Haunting and Deep but feels devoid of real substance.

I really like The Iliad and The Odyssey in of themselves. They're fascinating historical texts that give a window into how 8th century BC Greeks told their stories, saw their world, interpreted their ancestors, etc. And genuinely I think these texts have 'good' characters, there's a lot of complexity and humanity to it.

WRT the Iliad- all of the main Achaeans are pretty fascinating, the one singular part where Briseis Gets To Talk and laments her situation is great, Achilles fantasizing that all of the Trojans AND the Achaeans die so he and Patroclus alone can have the glory of conquering Troy (wild), Achilles asking to embrace Patroclus' shade and reaching out for him but it's immaterial (and the shade being sucked back underground with a 'squeak' (the squeak kinda gets me it's disturbing and sad)), Hecuba talking about wanting to tear out Achilles' liver and eat it in a (taboo, exceptioally pointed) expression of rage and grief for his mutilation of her son's corpse, just one tiny line where the enslaved women performing ritual wailing for their dead captors are described as using it as an outlet to 'grieve for their own troubles' is heartrending, etc. A lot of grappling with anger and grief and the inevitability of death, a lot of groundwork laid for characters that could be very interesting when expanded upon in the framework of a conventional novel.

And Song Of Achilles really doesn't do much with all that. I know a lot of my gripes here are kind of just "It's different from the Iliad", I would have thought of it as mostly mediocre and forgettable rather than infuriating if it wasn't a retelling (and I DEFINITELY have strong biases here). But I think the ways in which it is different are less just a product of a retelling (of course there's going to be omissions and differences) and more a complete and utter disinterest in vast majority of its own subject matter, to the book's detriment. I think a retelling has a point when it EXPANDS on the source, or provides a NEW ANGLE to the source. This book doesn't Really do either, it just shaves off the complexity of its source material, renders the characters into a really boring archetype of a gay relationship, and gives very little else. Its content boils down to a middling tragic romance that has been inserted into the hollowed out defleshed skeleton of the Iliad.

Bottom line: I definitely would not be as mad about it if I wasn't familiar with the source material but I think it's fair to expect a retelling to Engage with/expand on its source, and I also think it's weak purely on its own merits. This book was set up to disappoint Me specifically.

[unbizzarre]

What’s your favorite Greek mythology book?

Anybody have any Greek mythology book recommendations? My hyperfixation requires more fuel.

I’ve read

- translated versions of the Iliad and the odyssey

- song of Achilles (absolutely loved it, will probably read Circe by the same author next, but I burn through book so fast it’s just not enough)

- Epic the musical (well, listened, but yeah. It’s fantastic.)

- Percy Jackson (when I was younger. I’m not that into y/a modern fantasy, so it’s not really what I’m looking for)

Please! Seize this opportunity to ramble about something you love while simultaneously helping a poor soul in neeed in the process. WILL TRADE FANART OR MY FIRST BORN for good book recommendations at this point 🫠

[batdiangelo]

📖

[got any book reccomendations?]

a few yeah! I just finished reading the first book in Holly Jackson's trilogy- "A Good Girl's Guide To Murder" and it was so good!

if you want more greek myth reccs, then of course "The song of Achilles", by Madeline Miller is a big one, as is "Circe" by the same author, but also "Ariadne", by Jennifer Saint!

[nightwingsaregoths]

Flashing back to the Ye Olde Times just after the pandemic in which I told a classmate that Achilles and Patrocles died in casual conversation, e.g., a "oh yeah, Achilles dies, haha" because I noticed that she was reading The Song of Achilles and I read the Lattimore translation of the Iliad by Homer, so you know, technically same dudes, just different authors, and then she was like "what?!" and that's how I learned that it's apparently not common knowledge that Patrocles dies in battle against Hector wearing Achilles' armor and Achilles kills a bunch of people and also gets shot at some point in the heel, therefore the whole "Achilles' heel" thing. Anyway she might still be slightly mad at me for spoiling the book even though it's been two years.... I feel like this spoiler has been around for hundreds of years, but maybe that's just a me thing. Anyway, sorry girlie. Didn't mean to do that. I genuinely thought that the whole "they died" thing was common knowledge.

[lonelypersonhere]

thought i should try an intro post? i guess?

i don’t really know how to do this and I’m already sorry for the ramblings that are about to ensue because I’m awkward and ramble and don’t know how to format this hehheh..

this was going to be my first post to get me out of my shell and force myself to actually post things, but i ended up posting and getting out there before i got the courage to post this sooo...

some basic info i guess

I’ve been going by lonely on here i guess? so call me (i say that like ppl be talking ab me lol) either that or or Micah cause i totally wish that was my name and want to go by that :/

my pronouns page :)

lmk if you want to be tagged on games and i will try to remember lol

use the first two tags of this post to see posts i made, and asks i answered/ ask requests :P

 i use she/they pronouns (I’m also leaning towards adding he, but i don’t really like hearing it online i don’t think?)

I’m nonbinary, demi, omniromantic, and aceflux.

i have anxiety, adhd, self diagnosed autism, and all the little things that come with those like misophonia, tinnitus, rsd, yk how it is.

My finch code is BSVLVJKTKN and my birbs name is Milo; if anyone wants to add me, you can lmk if you do but you don’t have to idk how to use it but my discord is also lonelypersonhere

my hobbies and interests

my favorite color is green, i like drawing, journaling, reading, gaming, swimming, and writing (getting more used to the idea of it bc i used to hate writing). I have lots of collections of things like squishmallows, all kinds of frog and turtle things, books, video games....

authors and books

this will be a lot (and mostly young books bc i hate change and love nostalgia)

i also haven't been reading as much the past few years, got that gifted kid syndrome burnout (heh 😅)

Rick Riordan, Erin Hunter (it’s the nostalgia, i can’t help it), Wendy Mass, John Green, Dean Koontz, all the dystopian books like Divergent, The Hunger Games, The Maze Runner (and the Thirteenth Reality also by James Dashner)

My favorite book is definitely The Song of Achilles with They Both Die at the End as a close second (apparently I like pain).

I’m don’t really know a name for what genre I most like but, fantasy, dystopia, and adventure pretty much sums it up I guess. I recently got into anime and now I can’t enjoy watching real people the same any more lol. Also if something I list has a book/movie counterpart that counts too, except for manga because I haven’t gotten into that yet(except for a few). I’m going to try to stick to my top three-ish favorites and not to list literally everything I’ve ever seen so here we go I guess (I say I guess a lot don’t I?)

movies

Bridge to Terabithia (was my go to for favorite movie as a kid) and Ghibli movies; specifically with Howl’s Moving Castle and Princess Mononoke being my favorite movies 

tv shows

Sherlock, Anne with an E, and The Originals are probably my favorite (real people) shows and Hunter X Hunter, Attack on Titan, Fruits Basket, and Erased are my top anime shows (I haven’t seen that many but these are amazing).

Ok, I’m so sorry to anyone that actually read this heh. This post stayed in drafts jail and endured lots of editing before I got the courage to post it sooo if you’re seeing this that’s a victory for me lol. i think i will make a cleaned up version of this? and also add the tags i use for filtering yeah? Ok I’ll stop talking now bye.....

[ultimateempath]

Fic author in need of help!

I desperate want to make a bakudeku fic about their past lives inspired by demondoodles on tiktok, but I'm struggling to come up with names for each of their past lives. I'd prefer something that starts with the same letter as and/or is similar to their present time names. Here are the past lives I've planned thus far!

Kitsune (Bakugo) & Oni (Izuku)

Song of Achilles-esque (Bakugo in the achilles role, Izuku in the patroclus role)

Fantasy au (in their usual roles)

Pirate (Izuku) & Merman (Bakugo)

Prince (Izuku) & soldier (Bakugo)

Then finally Yoichi & 2nd followed by their present life.

So yeah, just give me some name suggestions please!

Edit: stop just liking my post and actually give me name suggestions, it's not pleasant to think I got a response only to see that ppl liked the post but didn't help at all.

[theothershin]

The reason I don't like modern retellings like The Song of Achilles is the inaccuracies, some as stupid as making the Greeks homophobic, but mostly just the feeling of it. General modern lit mostly has the same vibe and writing style except for cool authors like Darren Shan and Tabitha King, and that vibe really doesn't vibe with me. For me that vibe ruins the interesting 1500s or 18-1900s feeling that classics have and surviving and amazing literature has. So yeah.

[mangoisms]

🦋🌿 🍬 🐠 for the writing asks !!

hiiiiii jes thank you for sending these in ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹🫶🫶

🦋 tell us about your current wip

that would be ck!!! i just love my acronyms sorry... altho i think i should just give up its title since the title is directly pulled from the song that sort of inspires it, which is circle k (back to you) - hawai. it's for dc comics and for tim Of Course... you know what.. let me just pop in the summary bc i like it a lot

Working at a convenience store in Gotham City is a thankless and often dangerous job. Especially if you are working the graveyard shift.

You quite liked your brief stint at the Circle K in Keystone City, if only because the Flash could be found taking care of crime before they even happened. Plus, your store was the one he frequented the most for snacks and drinks to replenish his energy.

Even if your friends, Steph and Tim, don’t actually believe that he visited you and in fact said you two were friends. (No, seriously, he did!)

But a surprise visit from him with Red Robin in tow, a pointed insult to the Bats’ general hostility and unwelcoming nature, and suddenly, you have a revolving door of vigilantes at odd hours of the night. Your most frequent visitor and the one that bothers you for a reason you can’t articulate since it also coincides with Tim Drake’s sudden avoidance of you?

Red Robin.

But it’s probably nothing, right?

i really liked the idea, first off, but ck is also different in that there's a pre-established friendship going on so i get to focus on the present issues without building up too much, although it's also a tiny bit non-linear because i put in a lot of flashbacks to pivotal moments in tim and reader's friendship as well as those same moments between the flash/wally and reader. plus it features more of the batfam AND i get to include some of the flashfam too!! it's a lot of fun!!!

🌿 who is your favourite character you've ever written?

another favorite of mine would definitely be.... honestly probably wally. he's also a bit like eijun but not quite as clueless (which sounds bad but. Its just a different brand of Silliness) and in ck, where he has a fairly important role, he's taken a friend/brother/weird uncle type of role that is just... again. very comforting. he's simultaneously kind of a jokester but also not willing to be straightforward when the situation calls for it, if that makes any sense. like he's not completely comedic relief, he balances it really well

🍬 a song for your favourite character

love this question. lets see. i'll do it for tim... oh boy. either

or this one

im thinking specifically in regards to eof but also in general. Yeah. Yeah...

🐠 author who inspires you

oh hmmm i don't totally know if this means like. publish wise. or. fic wise. but maybe leigh bardugo? while the grishaverse has its issues, it's still pretty cool! i love nikolai sm

send me a summertime writing ask!

[copper-dust]

update on my reading and falling into a new fandom black hole, but like really, this time

So, this is what happened.

Two years ago, I read Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls, which is a retelling of the Iliad from the point of view of Briseis. She is the concubine/slave of Achilles. His commander/rival, King Agamemnon, steals her in retaliation for having to give up his own concubine, Chryseis, and that initiates the events of the Iliad, which I won’t further summarize. I enjoyed it, but I finished it and that was that.

This year, I was researching for my fic Merry Men, which lead me to buying Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character, which examines Vietnam PTSD through the lens of the Iliad. I became  interested in the Iliad and ordered The Song of Achilles through the library. I really, really enjoyed the book, and decided to read Circe, by the same author. This is the point at which I realized I was at serious risk of Developing A New Obsession.

I reread The Silence of the Girls, enjoying it much more this time around because I had a better understanding of the canonic Iliad. I read The Penelopiad (Margaret Atwood) and Ransom (David Malouf). I read The Lost Books of the Odyssey (Zachary Mason) up until the chapter where Alexander the Great visits Troy—and then I decided I didn’t want to spoil my interest in Alexander the Great. 

So... I read Fire from Heaven, the first book in the Alexander trilogy by Mary Renault. I have read The Persian Boy up until very close to the end, but I am at the point now where I am TOO UPSET to go on. This book has emotionally melted me. This book slaughtered my sons, kidnapped my daughters, pillaged my farm, burnt my city and salted my earth. I am not ready for Alexander’s death. 

To put off the inevitable, I’m now looking at which Alexander the Great-themed novel I will be reading next, with two strong contenders. This I must finish decide before I will be ready to finish The Persian Boy, to soften my grief.

You should probably also know at this point that I bought a ticket and I’m going to Greece in September, so, yeah.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 2 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Reader has to deal with the aftermath of Dynamight exploding through her window and trying to bleed out on her floor. 

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language. 

A/N: Here’s chapter two, hope you enjoy! ~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

AO3 Link: Here 

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here 

Chaos. You intellectually knew the word, in several languages in fact, but nothing could have ever prepared you for the reality of it. 

Information assaulted your senses in a deluge. The gust of cold air whistling through the broken window, raking icy fingers down your exposed arms. The bright flare of flames, even behind your clenched eyelids. The dissonant, haunting wails of several car alarms, each one just a second out of sync with the next, barely audible over the loud ringing in your ears. The taste of ash, gritty on your tongue as you sucked in heaving, panting breaths. The sharp smell of smoke and something… sweeter. Like caramelizing sugar. 

The sweet scent, incongruous with every other heinous detail, seemed to snap you fully back into your body, and your eyes flew open with a gasp. 

You were curled up in a tight ball below your now broken window, and you gaped at your ruined apartment. The lights were out, so the only illumination you had to see by were the flames behind you on the street, but it was enough. 

It looked like a tornado had torn through your home. The remnants of your window and wall—broken bits of glass, wood, and plaster—covered everything in sight in a fine layer of white dust. Your sewing desk/kitchen table was in splinters, and even with the dancing shadows, you had the distant thought that the dress you’d just finished mending was most definitely ruined. 

Then someone shouted outside on the street, and you felt it like a sledgehammer to the skull. 

Oh, god. The villain. The heroes. 

You scrambled up onto your knees, hissing when shards of glass tore through your sweatpants and bit into your skin. You’d worry about that later. For now, you focused on getting to your feet… 

And not falling out of the gaping hole in your apartment wall. 

You stumbled back a few steps from the edge, stabilizing yourself on one of your kitchen chairs that seemed to have survived the blast. The smoke was thicker now that you were off the floor, and you coughed and squinted against the hot, irritating air. 

The street in front of you was a warzone. 

The windows in the building across from you were all blown out, the empty frames like black gaping voids. The building housed a café/tea shop owned by Mr. and Mrs. Yamato, and you felt a small modicum of relief at the knowledge that they didn’t live above the shop like you did with yours. They lived in a neighborhood not too far away, and they wouldn’t be happy when they came to open in the morning, but at least they were safe. 

Safe… 

“Mr. Takeyoshi!” you gasped as you remembered your neighbor. He’d been standing on the street and nearly attacked by the villain, but a blond hero had pushed the middle-aged man out of the way. 

Your eyes scoured the street as you leaned forward as much as you dared, and just as your heart was beginning to clench, you spotted him. Mr. Takeyoshi was sitting on the curb across the street and about four storefronts down, hunched over with his head in his hands. Two heroes stood above him and seemed to be tending to him, and all three of the men looked whole for the most part. 

“God.” You exhaled shakily, your heart still stuttering in your chest, and then movement in your peripherals caught your attention. 

One hero seemed to possess a water quirk, and she was quickly working to spray down the numerous small fires still flickering up and down the road. As you watched her work, you realized the street wasn’t as badly demolished as you first assumed. It was still pretty wrecked—all of the asphalt was cracked and even just missing in some places—but aside from broken windows, the rest of the shops seemed mostly intact. The worst of the damage was centered just in front of your apartment, and as your gaze flickered over the large crater in front of you, you saw another two heroes dragging a third body out of the pit. 

The villain. 

The hero with the water quirk paused in spraying down the smoking remains of a car and turned to shout something at the other heroes. You couldn’t hear what she said over the persistent ringing in your hears, and you frowned as you focused your own quirk toward your ears. 

In your hopped-up-on-adrenaline state, you didn’t even notice the energy dip, and a moment later, your hearing returned with a loud pop. Thankfully, all of the car alarms seemed to have been cut, so you could hear the heroes pretty well.

“—still alive,” a tall hero in a red and purple suit said. You didn’t recognize him. “He’s pretty beat up, but he’ll make it.” 

“Great,” the water quirk hero sighed. “Let him be the cops’ problem now.” 

As if on cue, you could hear a siren start up in the distant, slowly moving closer. 

The threat was over. The villain was neutralized, the fires put out, and the authorities were on the way. 

So… why did you feel so on edge, like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop? 

“—fuckin’ Dynamight,” one of the heroes suddenly spat and drew you out of your thoughts. 

You frowned in confusion as the words registered. Dynamight… why did that sound familiar? 

Then your eyes widened as you remembered the blond hero, literally exploding onto the scene. His face—snarling and illuminated by the white-hot flare of his quirk—flashed in your mind’s eye, and you dropped your gaze back down to the street below. 

Dynamight, Japan’s Number Two Hero. You couldn’t believe he had been the one to turn up and save you. 

Well, not you specifically. Your neighborhood. 

You’d seen the ash-blond on television before. Usually, the media just liked to harp on his crude language or brash attitude, but you’d seen this one story of how he had saved every single person from a collapsed building. A teary blonde gushing about Dynamight rescuing her had gone briefly viral, but the clip that stuck with you was when a reporter asked the pro hero why he decided to go into the unstable building without any reinforcements. 

The blond had scowled into the camera, sweat and dirt still streaked across his pale face, his scarlet eyes flashing from beneath his black mask. 

“What was I supposed to do?” he scoffed. “Leave them in there and sit with my thumbs up my ass while the fire department takes their sweet fuckin’ time? Don’t ask me stupid questions.” 

Of course, the media had another field day with that response, but… something about it struck you as incredibly genuine. Yeah, the pro hero could have phrased it better, but the core of what he was saying was he couldn’t sit back when people were in trouble, no matter the risks. 

You had thought that very brave. 

And now you’d witnessed his bravery first hand. You weren’t confident—or really self-centered enough—to go down and thank him for what he’d done, but you thought you would just be satisfied with seeing him from afar now that things weren’t so dire. 

But, the longer you looked, the more the pit grew in your stomach. 

You couldn’t see the blond hero anywhere. He wasn’t with Mr. Takeyoshi, still hunched over on the curb. He wasn’t with the two heroes who were trying to establish a perimeter and keep out the arriving crowd of spectators. And he wasn’t with the other heroes standing watch over the unconscious villain laid out on the sidewalk. 

The rest of the heroes seemed to be arriving at the same conclusions as you. You could hear Dynamight’s name being thrown about, and then the heroes were splitting up, taking different sides of the street, peeking into broken windows. 

You wrung your hands as you watched them search from your apartment. No one had noticed you standing there yet, and you were just contemplating going downstairs to try and help in some way when a noise caught your attention. 

In the grand scheme of things, the noise wasn’t very loud, especially given the shouting on the street and the loud sirens now that the police were arriving on scene. 

But since you lived alone, someone coughing in your apartment, someone who wasn’t you, was cause for a little alarm. 

You inhaled sharply as you glanced back over your shoulder, every atom of your being standing at attention. The apartment behind you was a study in contrasts, dark shadows and the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles outside. Your eyes fell on the empty spot where your couch used to be located, and then your gaze followed the drag marks that had been carved into your wood floor. 

The couch was half embedded in the wall beside your front door, with one of the armrests denting into the plaster and the other pointing toward your gaping window/wall. The sofa’s legs had been broken, so it slumped to the floor at an angle, and some kind of stuffing spilled out of several rips in the cushions. 

But your eyes were glued to the leg sticking out over the armrest and the arm thrown over the back of the couch, which was blocking the rest of the… person from view. 

Oh, fuck. That was a person. 

Your legs reacted before your brain could even process what you should do, but you were at least cognizant enough to pick your way over the worst of the debris. Your thin, rubber-soled slippers would protect you from the small pieces of glass and rubble, but you really didn’t want to step on a nail if you could help it. 

Since your apartment was so small, and there weren’t any full pieces of furniture in the way anymore, you crossed the distance in a handful of strides, but you jerked to a stop when you reached the back of the couch. 

Your lungs seized up so suddenly they hurt. The smell of caramelized sugar was stronger now, almost overwhelming, and you actually had to grip the back of the sofa for support, your hand right next to Dynamight’s leg. 

Because it was Dynamight half-strewn across your broken couch. Even when you first saw the leg, you hadn’t imagined it could be… 

But there he was. And he looked surprisingly… human. 

His face was lax with unconsciousness, lacking the perpetual scowl or snarl he wore in pictures or on TV. His hair, which looked paler and somehow softer in person, was tinged red along his brow line, where a cut was still trickling sluggishly. He wore a non-descript black hoodie over dark jeans and darker combat boots, but a glint of color and light around his midsection caught your eye. 

You frowned and leaned down without thinking, your fingers reaching out to brush… something wet. 

“Oh, shit,” you breathed when you lifted your hand to your face and saw, even in the darkness, that the pads of your fingers were red and glistening. 

He was bleeding. 

You moved a step closer, but then your foot lost purchase, sliding, and when you glanced down, you saw your once white slippers were dark, more wetness seeping in around your toes. 

Oh, god. He was bleeding a lot. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You fumbled for the phone in your pants pocket as you scurried around the opposite end of the couch and dropped to the ground. Glass bit into your knees again, this time deeper, a sharp, brilliant pain, but you ignored it as you tried to turn your phone’s flashlight on. The touch-screen wouldn’t register your finger at first, your blood-slicked skin skimming across the glass, and you could feel a scream building in your throat just before the light flashed on. 

If you thought things were bad in the dark, being able to see made it a thousand times worse. 

Blood had already pooled around Dynamight, dark and glinting like an oil spill. The sleeve on his left arm had been burned off, and the skin below was pink and raw. It smelled like cooked meat, and the curry you ate what felt like a lifetime ago churned hotly in your gut. 

But the burn wasn’t even the worst of it. 

A wooden stake, about as wide as three of your fingers, protruded out of the pro hero’s gut by several inches. You thought part of it might have looked like your window frame, but the thought came and went when you noticed the tip of the wooden splinter was dyed red, which meant it must have come through his body. 

That had to be where all this blood came from. Was still coming from. God, there was so much of it. 

Your eyes shot to the gaping hole in your wall, your voice rising in your throat as you prepared to scream for help, but a sudden gasp nearly made you jump out of your skin. 

You whipped back around to find wide, hazy red eyes trained on your face, and the hero’s mouth gaped open as he dragged in a ragged breath. 

“Wh—hnng!” he groaned as his body seized, his right hand coming up to clutch at his stomach. 

“Don’t!” Your phone clattered to the floor, throwing light, as you lunged forward, and you caught his hand before he could jar the piece of wood lodged inside him. “D-Don’t move, a-and try not to speak.” 

The hero panted as he cracked open his eyes and looked at you. Or maybe through you. His gaze wasn’t very focused, and blood from the cut on his brow was still dripping into his right eye. 

But the scarlet color of his irises was still striking, even in the dimness of your apartment. 

“You’ve… been hurt,” you said as you met his eyes as best you could. You weren’t a doctor or an EMT, but you knew the best way to keep people calm in emergency situations was to let them know what’s happened and reassure them. “There’s a piece of wood inside you, so you can’t move or you might hurt yourself worse. But y-you’ll be okay. I’ll go get—” 

“Villain,” Dynamight suddenly spat out, cutting you off and spattering you with a fine mist of blood. 

“What?” His voice was rough and guttural, so it took your brain a moment to translate the slurred Japanese. Did he think you were another villain? 

The blond hero winced and groaned again, and it wasn’t until he squeezed down on your hand that you realized you were still holding his. His palm was rough and calloused against yours—and warm, so inexplicably warm—but then he dug his nails into your skin, and you gasped. 

“Vil… lain?” he rasped again, and you realized it was a question. 

“Oh! The villain’s been arrested. You… you beat him.” 

Dynamight scowled at you, brow knitting in confusion, and he grunted what sounded like a questioning noise at you. 

Then he shifted his head, and you saw the dark stain of blood coming out of his ear. 

He must have ruptured his eardrums in the explosion. 

You didn’t want to shout and damage his hearing even more, so you squeezed his hand back and smiled in what you hoped was reassurance. 

“You won,” you mouthed as clearly as you could. “You won, Dynamight.” 

His narrowed eyes widened a little bit with recognition, and you could have sworn the beginnings of a smirk twitched across his lips before his eyes suddenly rolled up into his head. The tension fled his body as he went limp, like a marionette with its strings cut, and your heart lurched up into your throat. 

“Dynamight?” you asked, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you with his ears the way they were. “Dynamight?” 

You squeezed his fingers, shaking him a little, but his face remained slack. 

Dropping his hand, you reached up to flatten one of yours across his chest, the other going up to feel at the underside of his neck. A moment ticked by, two, but you found his pulse, weak and thready beneath your fingertips. His breathing was shallow beneath your other hand, and the knees of your pants were warm and soaked with his blood. 

“F-Fuck,” you breathed shakily as you sat back for a moment, your hands limp in your lap. 

He was dying. Dynamight… was dying. This was too much blood, and even if you called out to the heroes right now, and they got here in seconds, it was still ten minutes to the nearest hospital. 

He didn’t have ten minutes. You didn’t think he had five. 

You stared down at the pro hero’s blood-streaked face for half a beat before you made a decision. 

Then you were moving. Consequences be damned. 

Your hands went to the hem of his hoodie, and you flinched as you pulled it away from his belly with a wet sound. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you also didn’t think he was feeling much of anything now, so you worked the hoodie up and over the stake as best you could before you shoved the fabric the rest of the way up his chest. 

The flashing lights from outside played across the dips and valleys of Dynamight’s abs, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the wooden stake. It jutted out between the hero’s belly button and his right hip bone, and every splinter was coated in tacky, crimson blood. More of the viscous liquid bubbled up around the torn skin at the stake’s base, and it trickled across his pale, alabaster abdomen like spilled paint. 

You bit your lip as you considered your next move, but then Dynamight’s breath hitched with a wet sound, and you knew you didn’t have time for doubts. 

“Okay, steady,” you muttered to yourself as you knelt over the hero’s prone body. Your knees burned, glass digging deeper into the skin by the second, but you shoved away your own pain as you reached out and wrapped both hands around the stake. Splinters tore into your palms, and your heart hammered out a staccato rhythm beneath your sternum. 

Then panic started to creep up your spine like a million little spider legs. What if removing the stake only made him worse, killed him faster? What if you killed Japan’s Number Two Hero? 

Just as you were about to let go of the stake, Dynamight hacked out a gurgling cough, blood bubbling out of his dry, cracked lips, and you felt the warm spray of it against your collarbone and arms. 

The sound rattled something deep inside you, and before you could second guess yourself again, you tightened your grip on the stake and tugged it up and out in one single motion. 

Dynamight wheezed once more, but you were already dropping the stake, hands slapping down against his abdomen. Warm blood pulsed through your fingers like pliable clay, and bile rose in the back of your throat before you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and called upon your quirk. 

An instant later, agony like you’ve never experienced slammed into you, ripping a gasp from your lungs. It felt like someone had stuck a white-hot poker through your gut, ignited your insides, and twisted. The pain was so intense, your ears started ringing again, and when you cracked open your eyes, your vision quickly began to tunnel until the only thing you could see was the bare outline of your hands, lined with green, against the hero’s stomach. You gritted your teeth as unconsciousness threatened to pull you under, and you groaned as you shoved as much energy as you could spare into the dying hero. 

As your quirk flooded into the blond’s body, you received vague impressions of his injuries healing. It was hard to describe, but it was kind of like you could see flashes of the tissue in your mind as it was stitched back together. First, the jagged hole on his back sealed over, and then your power wormed its way through the hero’s insides, patching up nicked arteries and punctured organs. The pain was still intense, so intense that your already limited vision was blurred by tears, but once you reached the top layers of his abs, you ripped your hands away with a gasp. 

You fell back on your ass, more glass and debris digging into your cheeks and the palms of your hands, and you sucked in ragged breaths as you tried to keep from passing out. The hero swam unsteadily before you, both from the tears in your eyes and because the entire apartment was swaying. Saliva pooled in your mouth as nausea clamped down on your stomach, but you focused on the burning in your palms to center yourself. Then you started counting deep breaths, and when you got to thirty, the darkness had receded from the corners of your vision, and the apartment more or less steadied out around you. 

You still felt like shit warmed over, like you’d been run over by a car and then dragged for several miles, but the bone-deep exhaustion could be cured with a good night’s sleep. The rest of the nicks and cuts on your body still burned like a million paper cuts, too, but your quirk was down to embers and was of no more use to you. 

But was it worth it? 

The two feet of distance between you and Dynamight felt like a canyon that stretched for miles, but somehow you found one last burst of strength to drag yourself forward a few inches. Then you held your breath and leaned over the hero’s abdomen, wiping away most of the pooling blood with the hem of his hoodie. 

There was still a significant gash carved into his skin, but when you shakily picked up your discarded phone from the floor and directed the light at him, you saw the wound was much shallower, maybe a few centimeters deep. The first few layers of skin were flayed back, but the muscles beneath were intact and healthy looking. A small trickle of blood continued to drip into the valley of the hero’s abs, but instead of a broken fire hydrant, it was just a leaky faucet. 

You dragged your tired eyes up Dynamight’s body, and you very quickly realized his breathing was deeper and not as wet sounding. Just to be doubly sure, you reached out and tentatively wrapped your fingers around his left wrist, only absently noticing that the once raw, flayed skin had been partially healed from third degree burns to first. 

You had poured more energy into him than you meant to, but it was hard to regret anything when you felt his pulse against your fingertips, strong, steady, and sure. 

“Oh, thank you,” you choked out as you closed your eyes, tears stinging in the corners. You didn’t know who you were thanking. You didn’t know if you believed in a “god” in the colloquial sense, but you felt as if the universe had given you a gift just now, and you could be nothing but grateful for it. 

You sighed as you slumped a little, and it was like weights were strapped to your eyelids as you struggled to open them and keep them open. You might have actually gone under, succumb to the exhaustion… 

If you didn’t catch sight of two crimson eyes staring back at you. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as a zap of adrenaline shocked you upright, and your phone clattered to the ground once again. 

Dynamight squinted, irises still a little glassy, but unlike last time, his gaze was very much focused on you. 

And the weight of it, the intensity, pinned you to the floor. 

“Y-You’re awake.” The words tripped off your tongue, chased out by the panic running circles in your brain. Damn it, you hadn’t even had time to come up with a plausible backstory for the pool of blood he was lying in. 

The blond hero’s eyes widened a fraction as he stared at you for an immeasurably long moment, and then you remembered with a start that he hadn’t been able to hear you before. This could work in your favor, though. You opened your mouth, ready to pantomime an elaborate story, but his voice—deep and rough, like crunching gravel or an expensive engine turning over—cut you off at the knees. 

“And you have eyes,” he said in clipped Japanese, a note of snide derision in his tone. 

You blinked in shock—at his attitude, the steadiness of his voice, and the fact he could hear you just fine all the sudden—but he just barreled onward like he had barreled through your window. 

“What happened?” he asked. No, demanded. “Who are you?” 

“I—” 

“And where’s that fuckin’ villain?” he cut you off as his split upper lip curled into a snarl, and his red eyes jumped to the gaping window over your shoulder. 

You frowned at him, pursing your lips into a thin line. “Are you going to let me answer?” 

A part of your brain was screaming at you, distantly: Are you giving Japan’s Number Two Hero attitude after he saved your life?!  You normally weren’t like this. Every inch the people pleaser, you were usually deferential to the point of your own detriment. 

But you were still so tired, every inch of you aching, blood still dripping and slick along your exposed skin, and he was the one who decided to be rude first. 

Plus, you saved his life, too, thankyouverymuch. 

Dynamight actually seemed surprised by your response because his gaze stopped its frantic search of your darkened apartment and settled on you. Those scarlet eyes raked over you quickly, a flick from head to toe, before they met your own. 

A beat of silence passed between you, and then his face pulled into a sharp frown. 

“Well?” he grunted. “Are you actually going to answer me?” 

The nerve of this man. Maybe the media had been right. 

“What happened was you decided to practically drop a bomb outside on the street, and then you crashed straight through my window and destroyed my apartment,” you said in a short, clipped tone. “But don’t worry. My couch managed to break your fall, so you’re mostly in one piece. Oh, and you beat the villain, the other heroes are outside handing him off to authorities. Satisfied with my answers?” 

You sucked in a deep breath after your little tirade, the blood roaring in your ears. Absently, you patted yourself on the back for the impromptu white lie you’d fed him. The couch did in fact break his fall… and shoved a stake through his gut, but he didn’t need to know that. Fortunately, you had dropped said impaling object behind you in your haste to keep some blood in his body, and you shifted a little now to insure it was blocked from his view. You had healed his life-threatening injury—and his hearing, apparently, though you hadn’t intended that—but he was still covered in scrapes, cuts, and minor burns along his left arm. It was a… plausible amount of wounds, so hopefully your little quirk indiscretion would go unnoticed. 

Dynamight was still staring at you in silence, and you began to fidget, on the edge of saying you were going to go flag down another hero, when he finally spoke up again. 

“No, I’m not satisfied. You didn’t answer all my damn questions. Who the hell are you?” 

A flush of heat infused your cheeks—part anger, part embarrassment for being put on the spot again and being the subject of his intense glare—and you averted your eyes as you mumbled out your name. 

“Hah?” he practically shouted as he leaned forward, bringing with him that bewildering scent of burned sugar, but he suddenly stopped with a wince that he quickly turned into a scowl. “Speak up, I hate when people mutter. Just like goddamn Deku.” 

The last sentence wasn’t directed at you, but you found his mention of Japan’s Number One Hero intriguing. 

You sighed and repeated your name for him, a little louder this time, and he grunted in what seemed like acknowledgment before he started to struggle upright again in the ruins of your couch. 

“Don’t move too fast, you’ll start bleeding again,” you chided and scooted closer to stop him from aggravating the injury on his abdomen. You’d healed the worst of it, but it was still an open wound, and he was bound to be sore as hell after smashing through a window/wall. 

“M’ fine,” he grumbled as he settled into a slightly more seated position. Then he looked down and noticed his hoodie was still partially rucked up around his arm pits, and his red eyes shot back to you. He studied you for a long moment, but his face was unreadable. “Undressing me while I was unconscious? You’re not one of those damn obsessed fangirls, are ya?” 

Your cheeks flared red-hot, but you scowled at the ash-blond hero. “N-No! I—You were bleeding, so I wanted to make sure it wasn’t too b-bad. But, uh, the gash isn’t that deep.” 

It was a little harder to make more articulate, detailed lies, especially when his blood was still drying on your hands and you could remember the exact feel of his pulse slowing beneath your fingertips. 

Dynamight narrowed his scarlet eyes at you, and you knew you weren’t being convincing. Panic started to claw up the back of your throat again. His burning gaze was charring away at your weaknesses, your resolve. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, confessing. You’d saved his life after all. That wasn’t a bad thing. 

Then you remembered all the articles you’d looked up one anxiety-filled night, soon after moving here. All the stories about people using their quirks and causing damage. Of people with healing quirks trying to help and only doing more harm. The fines, the charges, and in rare cases, imprisonment. 

You didn’t think you’d be locked up, but you couldn’t afford any fines now, and as an immigrant, any mark on your record could get you immediately deported. 

Your mouth dried up. You couldn’t be deported, sent back to your parents as a failure again. What’s more, you had people who relied on you here, like Mrs. Kojima. You weren’t a hero, not important by any means, but… you had just found something to give your life a little purpose. A little stability. 

No, you couldn’t be discovered. You just couldn’t. 

Your newfound resolve stiffened your spine a little, but when you lifted your chin and met those piercing crimson eyes again, your courage—along with your tongue—shriveled inside you. 

Fuck, how were you going to lie your way out of this? 

Unfortunately, Dynamight didn’t give you any more time to get your story straight. 

“Your hands are all fucked up.” 

You startled at his rough voice, instinctively flipping your hands palm-side down and tucking them between your legs. Then, when your brain caught up to your body, you cursed yourself. 

Could you be any more obvious, any more guilty? 

“I, uh, i-it’s nothing,” you stammered, clearing your throat before you continued. “I cut myself on the broken glass from the window, but it’s not serious. Nothing a few bandaids won’t fix, anyway. Maybe some gauze and antiseptic, but definitely not a hospital visit or anything.” 

You knew you were babbling but somehow couldn’t stop it, your anxiety just seizing control of your tongue, and you clenched your torn-up hands into fists until the stinging pain centered you a little bit. 

Once again, Dynamight studied you in silence, like he was choosing his words carefully. 

“Did you nick your damn wrist, too?” he finally asked as his neutral mask twisted into his signature scowl. “Looks like a lot of blood. Don’t be an idiot and bleed out on me. I don’t wanna deal with the fuckin’ paperwork.” 

Well, maybe not that carefully. 

“I-I’m not bleeding out,” you protested with a frown. “I’m fine.” 

“Let me see.” 

You blinked. “Excuse me? 

The hero stuck out his right hand, palm up, his scowl only deepening. “Let me see your hands.” 

Fuck. A drop of icy cold fear slid down your spine. Your hands were indeed “fucked up” like the blond said, but the cuts were all shallow and minor. They would in no way explain how you were coated in blood up past your wrists. None of your injuries would account for that. 

And none of his current ones would, either. 

“I—” You opened and closed your mouth several times like a gasping fish, and Dynamight’s eyes narrowed on you with what you were sure was suspicion. 

And then, like a gift from the heavens, a small but bright beam of light suddenly flooded your apartment from over your shoulder. 

“Dynamight?” a male voice shouted. 

The blond hero clenched his eyes shut and turned away from the light, and you. “I’m here! Turn that damn light out.” 

Said light cut out an instant later, and you seized the opportunity that had just been presented to you. 

Quick as a whip, you leaned over and snatched a large swath of dark fabric that you’d seen in the brief moment of illumination, and you reeled it into your lap quickly. The fabric had been a personal project of yours, a gown you’d started on a whim, but that didn’t matter now. Dynamight was still rubbing at his eyes, grumbling about being blinded, so you kicked half of the unfinished garment under and around the base of the ruined couch, effectively covering up the large pool of blood that had congealed under the splintered furniture. Then you reached behind you, grabbed the bloody stake, and shoved it between the folds of fabric. 

There. Now, most of the evidence was hidden. 

And not a moment too soon, because in the next breath you heard the crunch of glass as the unnamed hero stepped into the apartment behind you. 

“Hello?” 

“We’re over here,” you called back, struggling to your feet so the hero could see you over the back of the couch. 

The hero was silhouetted against your ruined window and the flashing police lights outside, so you couldn’t see much of his face, but you could tell he was tall and broad-shouldered, wrapped in a red and purple suit you didn’t recognize. 

“Are you alright, ma’am?” the hero asked in very formal Japanese. 

You opened your mouth to reply, but Dynamight cut you off. It seemed to be a habit of his. 

“We’re fine,” he grunted, and you turned to see the blond shoving himself to his feet. A gasp caught in your throat, and you made a half-aborted motion to stop him, but his red eyes snapped up and glared at you, freezing you in your tracks. “Aren’t we?” 

It took a moment for you to realize the last question was directed at you, and when Dynamight’s lip curled up into a sneer as he accusingly dropped his gaze to your hands, you realized none of your lies had convinced him after all. 

“Y-Yes.” The word stumbled out of your mouth without your permission, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes off the blond as you felt your world falling in around you for the second time tonight. “We’re fine.” 

The hero behind you said something, but it was lost in the static suddenly filling your head. 

He knows. He knows. Dynamight knows. 

The words cycled through your brain again and again, a broken record. What would he do? Would he tell the other hero? Or take you down to the authorities himself? And what then? Would they arrest you? Give you a few days to pack up and say your goodbyes before your deportation? 

Just as you were beginning to spiral, movement caught your attention, and you watched as if from a distance as Dynamight suddenly stepped past you, the scent of burnt sugar stinging your nose as he went. He was talking, and the low rumble of his voice vibrated through your body since he was so close, barely a hair’s breadth away, but he seemed to be talking to the other hero. 

Was he confessing your secret already? 

You couldn’t seem to turn around, your slippered feet rooted to your debris strewn floor. Even in the dark, you could see the black stain of Dynamight’s blood on your ruined couch cushions, and without thinking, you leaned down, picked up another torn and dirty piece of fabric, and threw it over the stain, blocking it from view. 

You didn’t know why you did that. It didn’t matter now. Dynamight knew, and— 

“Ma’am?” A hand touched your elbow, and you jumped, whirling around. “Whoa, careful there.” 

It was the tall hero in the red and purple suit. He was wearing a partial mask over his eyes, so only the lower half of his face was visible, framed by two pieces of dark hair. He smiled at you, a pleasant, reassuring gesture, but you could only gape at him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked you again, a frown replacing his smile. His eyes started to look you over, but you shoved your hands into the pockets of your sweats before he could see them. 

It doesn’t matter, you idiot, your brain screamed, but your body was still going through the motions of keeping your secret, twisting your hands in your pockets, trying to rub out the blood. 

“I’m fine,” you said again and then realized repeating the same trite phrase probably wasn’t convincing. So, you smiled at the hero, or at least you thought you did. Your face felt strangely stiff and numb, but you flashed your teeth and crinkled your eyes just the same. “Really. I’m just a little… shaken up is all. I have a few cuts and bruises, but nothing serious. The apartment took the worst of the damage, obviously.” 

You laughed, a hint of hysteria in your voice, as you gestured to the gaping hole in your wall behind the hero, hoping to get him away from your blood-soaked couch. And, blessedly, he did turn, so you took a few steps past him until you were both facing the broken window. 

Then you noticed Dynamight was standing near the hole, very cautiously leaning against the last remaining, exposed stud in the wall, with his hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie. His body was facing out into the street, but his eyes were still locked on you, the red of them only intensified by the police lights still flashing on the street. 

His eyes seemed to say, I know what you did, and all the saliva dried up in your mouth. 

“Well, as bad as the damage is to your home, I’m glad you weren’t seriously injured, ma’am,” the hero at your side suddenly said, and you jolted when you realized he was responding to your inane babble from what already felt like hours ago. 

“O-Oh, yes.” You smiled again, just as forced and twice as shaky. “I was… very lucky. A-And thank you! For doing your part to s-stop that villain before he hurt anyone or caused even more damage.” 

“Yes, well, there was still more damage than I would have preferred,” the hero replied, and you didn’t miss the dirty look he shot Dynamight, who just deepened his scowl because he was still looking at you. “But let’s get you down to the street. The paramedics will look you over, and the authorities will want to take a statement. But don’t worry, they’ll also put you up in a hotel for the night since you obviously can’t stay here.” 

He threw the last part of the sentence at Dynamight like a dagger, and the blond finally tore his eyes off you to glare at the other hero. 

You waited for the explosive hero to… well, explode, but he only stared down the tall man beside you before he rolled his eyes, glanced at you one last time, and then jumped out the hole in your wall. 

“No—” you gasped, stumbling forward like you could stop him, but an instant later, you heard a mini-boom out on the street, followed by Dynamight barking orders at someone. 

Oh, yeah. You remembered how the blond had burst through the air while fighting the villain and realized he didn’t just ruin all your hard, illegal healing work by face-planting onto the concrete. 

You sighed and suddenly swayed, like the blond leaving had finally cut all of your tense strings. The adrenaline was fading at last, exhaustion leeching through your veins in its place, and you listed into the hero beside you. 

“Ma’am?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled sleepily, trying and failing to find your balance. “I think… the shock is wearing off. Just… tired.” 

“Would it be alright if I carried you down to the street?” 

You wanted to protest, say you could take the stairs down to your shop, but your tongue felt sluggish in your mouth, and all you managed was a vaguely affirmative sounding hum. 

“Okay, hold on.” 

You felt one hand wrap around your shoulders while the other scooped you up around the knees, and usually, you would protest, insecure about your weight, but the hero settled you against his chest with ease. The instant you were off your feet, every muscle in your body went limp, and you were too tired to even be embarrassed when your head flopped against the hero’s collarbone. 

You had the vague thought that he didn’t smell like warm sugar, followed by a flash of disappointment, but then the hero was moving, jumping, and you were falling through the air. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get the luxury of passing out. 

Once you hit the street, it was all sirens and shouting, flashing lights and flashes of people, so many people. 

True to his word, the hero in the red and purple suit carried you over to an ambulance and two waiting paramedics. The American in you panicked, instinctively trying to refuse care because your shop and home were just destroyed, you didn’t have money for an ambulance ride, too. 

But as the medics peppered you with rapid fire Japanese questions, you were reminded of where you were, and the bright flashlight shining into your eyes sure woke you up a little. 

The next half an hour was a blur. The paramedics tended to the wounds on your palms, knees, and, embarrassingly, ass, but all of the cuts were shallow, and none of them even required stitches. You knew they wouldn’t require stitches anyway, because once you rested up, your quirk would heal you, but you kept your mouth shut and let the medics wrap you in gauze and bandages. You seemed to have rubbed away enough of the blood on your hands that they weren’t suspicious, but it brought you no relief. 

While they worked, you watched the heroes and police out of your peripherals. They were still working to seal off the scene and tend to your neighbors, who were gathered further down the block behind some yellow tape. It didn’t look like anyone else had been injured beside you, and for that you were grateful. 

But your stomach was still in knots. 

More than once, you heard Dynamight’s brash voice bark over the sirens and other voices, and as the paramedics were finishing up the bandages on your hands, a head of ash-blond hair jutted out over the police car closest to you. Unable to stop yourself, your eyes zeroed in on that distinctive hair color, and you saw the explosive hero was speaking—well, yelling—at two police officers. 

Your mouth felt suddenly dry despite the multiple cups of water the medics had fed to you. What was Dynamight saying? 

As if he could hear your thoughts, red eyes snapped to the side and locked onto yours, and the breath hitched in your chest. That crimson gaze held you trapped, unable to look away, so when the two officers he’d been speaking to suddenly stepped into your field of vision, you gasped. 

“Apologies, didn’t mean to startle you, ma’am,” one of the officers said. He was a middle-aged man, balding, with a serious face and a no-nonsense expression. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if you feel up to it.” 

You swallowed, your throat clicking, and your heart stuttered into a breakneck pace beneath your sternum. 

“O-Of course,” you replied, only stumbling a little over your Japanese. You smiled at the officers, but the expression felt stilted, and fear seized you by the throat and squeezed until your breaths were shallow and grating in your ears. 

“Thank you.” The balding officer nodded. “My name is Detective Nakahara. I’ve been told you witnessed and were injured in tonight’s attack.” 

You thought the injury part was obvious, given your myriad of bandages and the fact you were sitting in the back of an ambulance, but you nodded to confirm anyway since your voice had abandoned you. 

This was it. He was going to ask you the damning question, and you were going to tell the truth. Lying to a hero in the heat of the moment had been one thing, but lying to a police officer during an official statement was another thing entirely. It would take one database search for them to confirm your quirk and Dynamight’s story, and then you really would be in trouble. Maybe imprisoned instead of deported. You cursed yourself for not knowing more about the laws that were going to quickly ruin your life. 

But… then Nakahara started asking you about the villain and what you saw, and you stuttered out an answer to the best of your ability. You thought this might have been a disarming tactic, to lull you into a false sense of security, but when you got to the part of the story where Dynamight burst through your window, the officer sighed. 

“I take it that’s your apartment there?” Detective Nakahara asked as he gestured to the gaping hole. 

“Y-Yes.” You nodded. “And I own the shop below.” 

Which you now realized looked no better than your apartment. The windows were all blown out, black scorch marks along the door frame, and you didn’t want to even think about the shape of the interior. 

“What kind of shop is it?” he followed up, but he sounded more curious than interrogatory. 

“Clothing alterations,” you said. “M-My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited the shop about a year ago, after they passed.” 

“My condolences,” Nakahara murmured with a small dip of his head, and he seemed genuine. “For your grandparents, and your home and business.” 

You blinked in surprise at the turn in conversation. “O-Oh, thank you, that’s very kind.” 

“Do you have anywhere to go for the night, or were you on the way to the hospital?” he asked as he looked you over. 

“No,” you said quickly and then blushed. “I-I mean, my injuries aren’t serious enough for a hospital visit. Just some cuts and scrapes.” 

“Alright.” Nakahara nodded. “Is there any family we can call for you? Or take you to?” 

“N-No,” you repeated, a little more timidly this time. “My parents… don’t live around here, and I don’t really have any other family.” 

“Any friends?” he asked with a furrowed brow. 

Your face was red-hot now, and you dropped your eyes to your lap, fiddling with your bandaged fingers. What were you going to say? That you were an introvert, and the only “friends” you had were the old ladies who frequented your shop? 

“None that I would want to bother in the middle of the night,” you muttered before you suddenly remembered something. “But, um, one of the heroes said you could maybe take me to a hotel?” 

“Of course, we can take you right now, and we’ll also pay for the night,” the detective said. 

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you started to protest as you snapped your head up, but the officer held up a hand. 

“The city has funds to aid those displaced by villain attacks,” he explained. “The next forty-eight hours are guaranteed, so if I were you, I would use the opportunity to rest.” 

Detective Nakahara glanced down at your bandages, and you bit your lips as you nodded. 

“Okay, thank you for your help then, sir.” It was all you could think to say. 

“You’re welcome.” Nakahara nodded back at you and then reached out to help you out of the ambulance. “If you’ll come this way, we can have an officer collect some things from your apartment, and then we’ll head to the hotel and get you settled.” 

The finality in his tone and the idea of a hotel drew you up short. What… was happening? You had thought the detective was going to interrogate you about your quirk, not… chauffeur you to a nice hotel. 

The practical part of your brain was screaming for you to let it go, but the words were high-diving off your tongue before you could stop them. 

“I-Is that all?” 

Detective Nakahara paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is what all?” 

“I—” Shut up, shut up, shut up! “You didn’t have any more questions for me?” 

“No,” the detective said simply. “We have your statement, and it matches the others we’ve obtained.” Here, he frowned and seemed to study you for a moment. “Did you have any other questions for me?” 

“I… was just wondering what the next steps are for my apartment and shop,” you blurted out the first thing you could think of. “Will the… city pay for repairs? Do I have to fill out some forms?” 

It was an honest question, a real one you had, but your mind was still reeling. He wasn’t going to ask about your quirk? Had… Had Dynamight not said anything? 

Nakahara sighed but held a hand out for you to take, and you absently let him help you down from the ambulance. Then he slowly began walking toward one of the police cars, and you had no choice but to follow since you were still holding onto his arm for balance. 

“Unfortunately,” the detective started, “the city will not be able to repair your home or business.” 

“Why?” you asked with a frown. “I thought you said there were funds.” 

“There are,” he said, and when you looked up at him, you noticed his lips were pursed into a thin line. “And, if the villain himself had thrown debris through your window, then the city would compensate you. But, in this situation, Dynamight caused the damaged.” 

The detective practically spat the blond hero’s name, and your surprise must have shown on your face because Nakahara quickly cleared his throat and schooled his expression. 

“Because of this, his agency will be responsible for repairs, so you will have to contact them,” the officer finished. 

Contact them? You had to contact Dynamight’s agency, which meant… fuck. You felt the blood drain from your face, and your expression must have shown your dismay because Nakahara patted your hand that was still looped through his arm 

“But you can worry about that tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s get your things and get you to the hotel so you can rest.” 

You nodded blankly and let the detective lead you to the open backseat of a police car. Nakahara called another officer over, and the woman asked you questions about where things were in your apartment. You answered numbly, listing out different clothing items and how to get to your bedroom. Then she was gone, and Nakahara stepped away to do something else, so you were suddenly left all alone. 

Unbidden, you looked up and searched for that pair of scarlet eyes, that head of ash-blond hair, but the explosive hero was suddenly nowhere to be found. 

The crime scene continued to bustle around you, but all the while, two thoughts circled each other in your head, like binary stars stuck in each other’s orbit: 

Dynamight didn’t reveal my secret. 

But I’m going to have to face him again.

[takeaaslice]

lets do a tag thingy, why not!

@annaraksta agged me to list 23 books i am excited to read in 2023 & even though my goodreads to read list is in the hundreds (and i will never get through it all lol) there are some books that i am already planning/wanting to read this year so lets go!

the order is not really in priority i guess, just what pops to mind first/what jumps out while scrolling up & down my tbr

1. Fleabag: The Scriptures by Phoebe Waller-Bridge (was gifted to me by a friend a couple months ago) 2. I'm Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy (have already lined up the audiobook from the library) 3. Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir (i want to read fantasy more & have heard Good Things) 4. Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo  (same as above hah) 5. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (has been in my tbr foreveeer & i loved circe so pretty sure this will be a good read) 6. Vengeful by V.E. Schwab (read the first part of the duology recently & enjoyed it very much) 7. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn (i have read it, but twas long ago & i am itching for a reread) 8. Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland by Patrick Radden Keefe (i loved his book on the sackler dynasty & am a nonfiction person at heart hah) 9. My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh (have it lined up at the library so just gotta go & pick it up) 10. Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder (a wild concept & great name, what else can i say) 11. Empireland: How Imperialism has Shaped Modern Britain by Sathnam Sanghera (i am in uk for most of the year, so yeah, lets put this one here as well) 12. The Vampire Knitting Club by Nancy Warren (knitting!!! and cute!! a friend read it & said it was great and cheesy) 13. Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead by Elle Cosimano (read the first one last year, it was good enough to keep me interested on what happens next) 14. Harlots, Whores & Hackabouts: A History of Sex for Sale by Kate Lister (love the name, interesting topic) 15. Carrie Soto Is Back by Taylor Jenkins Reid (reallly loved the plot description) 16. Kochland: The Secret History of Koch Industries and Corporate Power in America by Christopher Leonard (read some stuff about the kochs last year & i guess i just like reading about depressing stuff hah) 17. The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes (sprinkling in the fantasy) 18. You Play the Girl: On Playboy Bunnies, Stepford Wives, Train Wrecks, & Other Mixed Messages by Carina Chocano (adding back some nonfiction for the balance) 19. Book Lovers by Emily Henry (enjoyed beach read by the same author) 20. Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree (a cheesy fantasy romance) 21. Democracy in Chains: The Deep History of the Radical Right's Stealth Plan for America by Nancy MacLean (i know this topic is depressing about the state of the world and whatnot but i enjoy absorbing this type of knowledge) 22. Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism by Amanda Montell (a lovely cover & an interesting topic) 23. The Raven King by Maggie Stiefvater (lets finish the list with something i am currently reading & i am excited to see how this all ends)

tagging @evilmermaidsinc & @editem to share their lists if they wish 

[fairyblue-alchemist]

hi beloved xan!! 23 and 27 :)

hihi junnie my beloved ily the most btw ♡♡♡

23: do you beleive in aliens?

*sweats in vernon* yeah i think they do exist. not really in a conspiracy-theory-tinfoil-hat kind of way, but i just think it's statistically probable that other life besides the one on earth can exist because of the sheer size of the universe. sure, a lot of it is empty, but we're constantly learning more about it so i wouldn't say it's impossible for aliens to exist.

27: what's your favorite book? or one you've read a few times?

i think a book i REALLY like is the song of achilles by madeline miller, circe by the same author is really good too in my opinion. bith of them are based on greek mythology if that's your thing because it's certainly mines. and a book i've been throughly enjoying but just can't pick up again is iron widow by xiran jay zhao, it is fruity as hell and the protagonist is absolutely feral and i delight in it so much. hm i should keep reading it when i have the time.

send me some asks!

[chthonic-empyrean]

Hey Rhys! Your blog is absolutely gorgeous. Can you suggest me any of your favourite books, authors, poets or poetry? Also, where do you live in India? Have a great day! <3

Hey beautiful Anon! GOOD MORNING

Thank you so much for the compliment, it's my pleasure to be appreciated by such amazing souls. Well i find it quite difficult to suggest books without knowing anyone's preferred genre but few of my all time favourites are:-

1- On Earth we're briefly gorgeous

2- All the bright places

3- A Little life

3- The kite runner

4- It ends with us

5- The song of Achilles

6- A court of Thorns and Roses series

7- Mistborn trilogy

8- The Da Vinci code

9- Crime and punishment

Umm that's all I can remember at this moment, there are many more and maybe I'm missing some of the best i have read. And about the authors and poets i couldn't decide any one favorite, like there's something pleasing in everyone's writing so i could never jump to the conclusion of who's my favourite. Same goes with poetry i read poetry more than anything but again I just can't fish something out instantly but yeah there's alot of my favourite poems which isn't seem right to share here, it would make my followers go crazy 🙃i already have written so much. And i live in my HEAD in INDIA, I hope my answer is not disappointing.

Have a great day ahead and don't forget to Smile please<3

[apenapaperandadoofus]

Hey!!! I FINALLY got around to reading Howl's Moving Castle and I LOVED IT. Howl is such a dramatic man child. It's hilarious. And Sophie is just passive aggressive most of the time.

Do you have any other book suggestions? I loved this story and don't know ow what to read next. I'm so sad I finished reading it!!

aH OH MY GOD I GOBLED THAT BOOK UP

I recommend this fanfic too that I’m 90% DJW herself wrote, it’s in her style and about their wedding and gOD so good!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/504681

Uuu for book recommendations that’s a toughie since I haven’t been reading much (oh no!)

I’ve read Emma from Jane Austen, it’s pretty good! As well as Six of Crows, though they’re not my favorite they’re pretty good.

There’s also Circe which is the retelling of a Greek myth and the same author who wrote Song of Achilles which I’ve yet to read!

There’s also one I L O V E called The Secret Garden by Kate Morton and it’s about a family and the generations- it ties with the most recent member trying to figure out her family tree and it’s pretty good!

Ones i bought last year but haven’t read yet but look promising are Catch-22, War and Peace, The Count of Monste Cristo and Not Even Bones.

One idk if you’ll like it’s a Ruin of Kings, i remember liking the first one a lot! Though the 2nd rn is kinda meh. The main character is bi tho and he’s a lovable dumbass so hecc yeah for the representation lol

I think those are all I can think of rn? I haven’t been reading much and I’ve got like 20 books in my TBR and currently I’m reading the entirety of the Death Note manga bc a friend let me borrow it (it’s huge, almost 3000 pages) so I’m obsessed with that for now!

[ninacarstairss]

Hello bestieeee :D How are u today? I hope u are living ur best life and are well<3

GUESS WHAT?

Yesterday,I finished RWRB!!! How can I even start to describe my love for this book? Hmmm I don’t think that I can put it in words but I’ll say whatI loved about it and by that,well,It’s pretty much everything. All the characters(except Philip the homophobic bitch,Richards the coward and um the Queen) were just so amazing and it was refreshing(yeah refreshing,don’t criticize me for choosing this word) to read about them and I learned so much from each one and there’s no doubt that they inspired in many ways.Tho I love all of them immensely,Henry and Alex hold a special place in my heart.The way Henry and Alex grew up through the book and let themselves to truly be the people they are at the end even after all the consequences they were ready to live with left me happy and hopeful.But I think that Alex and Henry couldn’t have been themselves one day in front of the whole world if they did not choosed to know each other and fall in love through this journey.Its beautiful to see how Alex who never expected to bond with Henry,was so grateful that he had the chance to do so.And there’s Henry who for so long,he had to pretend that he was someone else and live a life that was painfully untrue and unfair to his own feelings but he still managed to be the kindest and generous person that he could be and that,made my heart break but proud.I love them and lemme tell u,they are one of the most power couple and even THE power couple that u could possibly hope for. I love this two and If I want to find comfort,I’ll always look up to re-read some scenes with them(😏😎💕).What else?Ohh it was gracefully written and the way the characters expressed themselves was really relatable and I could see myself in them.There’s the plot who was entertaining and I just adored the aesthetic of this book(I mean the places that we saw etc).The whole story captivated me.RWRB is without a doubt one of my favourite books that I’ll eternally recommend(maybe not to my parents hehe cuz of the um spicy scenes👉🏼👈🏼,u know?).That’s pretty much that,I could talk about RWRB more but I know it will end up be a novel just about how much I LOVED IT. I can’t wait to read One last stop by the same author who made me feel countless of emotions in just one book.

P-S: Expect to see me posting(poems and the wonderful Chia already helped me giving me some ideas,aesthetics,drawings etc and maybe even a fic? Or a few?I’ll see). Alsooo,I’ll start SOA so lemme tell u if someone doesn’t mind to share my thoughts about this one and wish me luck for all the pain that I’ll be going through this one too).Why do I like pain so much?

Tagging some RWRB simps who I want to thank for bearing my thoughts and making me so excited for this book and hopefully I did not annoyed anybody: @shadowhunting-hooligans @carstairgray @gabtapia @niastormsanctuary-bolastairkanej @queen-born-out-of-fire @clarys-heosphoros

EVERYTHING YOU SAID. EVERYTHING.

ok let’s do this right i’m gonna try with a coherent answer—

hii bestie!! i’m fine and honestly now i’m even better because this ask just made my day and i read it twice because how could i not?? it’s literally exactly all i thought when i finished the book and i still think about all this 24/7, even after a month. this book is literally everything and it just stays in your veins.

and, honestly, you chose the perfect word. refreshing it’s exactly what this book is. except for those three horrible unnameable characters, all the characters were really refreshing and the relationships between them were so good and healthy that it was really refreshing. i loved alex and henry’s relationship, how it was developed and how it was built, it was so wholesome and it was definitely refreshing (yes now i clearly can’t stop using this word) to see so much communication and all this getting to really know each other inside out. and i totally agree, without knowing each other so well their story wouldn’t have been the same, they wouldn’t be so aware and so sure about going public and taking all the risks and consequences of that.

and their growth, both as individuals and as a couple, is amazing. the way alex is grateful to have met henry and how he learns to know himself better thanks to henry and how he learns to steady himself and slow down and the way henry learns to accept himself and learns that he deserves happiness, all of that without ever losing his kindness and his ability to love beyond measure even after years of being forced in the dark, always makes me emotional. they truly have some of the best character development i’ve ever seen, and it’s subtle and not rushed, and at the same time it’s so visible and tangible.

they’re definitely THE power couple and also THE comfort couple. seriously half of their scenes are the softest thing ever and they’re perfect for every mood. like, want to feel happy and laugh? reread the great turkey calamity or the karaoke scene. want to feel that sort of calm and soothing happiness? reread the scene at the beekman or alex’s speech at the end. want to get some serotonin? reread all their phone calls, email and texts. there are literally so many scenes i reread almost on a daily basis.

and i totally agree, the book was amazingly written, i loved the sceneries and even tho all these characters are probably the least relatable characters ever —considering one is a prince, one is the son of a president and the others are also involved in these spaces — they all end up being incredibly relatable, so much more than a lot of other characters i’ve read about. june and nora are also characters i loved so much because they were so relatable and so real.

rwrb is definitely one of my favorite books ever too and i can’t wait to read one last stop, from what i’ve heard so far it’s just as amazing!!

and i assure you bestie, you didn’t annoy anyone!! i loved reading all your thoughts and this last ask gave me life so pls do share your thoughts with the song of achilles too!! you’re gonna have to suffer and cry a lot there but it’s worth it, it’s really an amazing book. i’ll be here for moral support love 🧁🧁♥️♥️

anyway i hope you’re well too and having an amazing day, aside from the constantly missing rwrb part, because that’s gonna last a lot of time. ily and i’ll be waiting for more comments to cry and rant with you <33