#and if you rescue a wild animal you have to make sure youre responsible and turn it in to proper authorties

[wolvebonez]

theres no ethical way to own exotic pets btw 👍👍

[staff]

We Asked an Expert...in Herpetology!

People on Tumblr come from all walks of life and all areas of expertise to grace our dashboards with paragraphs and photographs of the things they want to share with the world. Whether it's an artist uploading their speed art, a fanfic writer posting their WIPs, a language expert expounding on the origin of a specific word, or a historian ready to lay down the secrets of Ea-nasir, the hallways of Tumblr are filled with specialists sharing their knowledge with the world. We Asked an Expert is a deep dive into those expert brains on tumblr dot com. Today, we’re talking to Dr. Mark D. Scherz (@markscherz), an expert in Herpetology. Read on for some ribbeting frog facts, including what kind of frog the viral frog bread may be based on.

Reptiles v Amphibians. You have to choose one.

In a battle for my heart, I think amphibians beat out the reptiles. There is just something incredibly good about beholding a nice plump frog.

In a battle to the death, I have to give it to the reptiles—the number of reptiles that eat amphibians far, far outstrips the number of amphibians that eat reptiles.

In terms of ecological importance, I would give it to the amphibians again, though. Okay, reptiles may keep some insects and rodents in check, but many amphibians live a dual life, starting as herbivores and graduating to carnivory after metamorphosis, and as adults they are critical for keeping mosquitos and other pest insects in check.

What is the most recent exciting fact you discovered about herps?

This doesn’t really answer your question, but did you know that tadpole arms usually develop inside the body and later burst through the body wall fully formed? I learned about this as a Master’s student many years ago, but it still blows my mind. What’s curious is that this apparently does not happen in some of the species of frogs that don’t have tadpoles—oh yeah, like a third of all frogs or something don’t have free-living tadpoles; crazy, right? They just develop forelimbs on the outside of the body like all other four-legged beasties. But this has only really been examined in a couple species, so there is just so much we don’t know about development, especially in direct-developing frogs. Like, how the hell does it just… swap from chest-burster to ‘normal’ limb development? Is that the recovery of the ancestral programming, or is it newly generated? When in frog evolution did the chest-burster mode even evolve?

How can people contribute to conservation efforts for their local herps?

You can get involved with your local herpetological societies if they exist—and they probably do, as herpetologists are everywhere. You can upload observations of animals to iNaturalist, where you can get them identified while also contributing to datasets on species distribution and annual activity used by research scientists.

You can see if there are local conservation organizations that are doing any work locally, and if you find they are not, then you can get involved to try to get them started. For example, if you notice areas of particularly frequent roadkill, talking to your local council or national or local conservation organizations can get things like rescue programs or road protectors set up. You should also make sure you travel carefully and responsibly. Carefully wash and disinfect your hiking boots, especially between locations, as you do not want to be carrying chytrid or other nasty infectious diseases across the world, where they can cause population collapses and extinctions.

Here are some recent headlines. Quick question, what the frog is going on in the frog world? 

Click through for Mark’s response to these absolutely wild headlines, more about his day-to-day job, his opinion on frog bread, and his favorite Tumblr.

✨D I S C O V E R Y✨

There are more people on Earth than ever before, with the most incredible technology that advances daily at their disposal, and they disperse that knowledge instantly. That means more eyes and ears observing, recording, and sharing than ever before. And so we are making big new discoveries all the time, and are able to document them and reach huge audiences with them.

That being said, these headlines also showcase how bad some media reporting has gotten. The frogs that scream actually scream mostly in the audible range—they just have harmonics that stretch up into ultrasound. So, we can hear them scream, we just can’t hear all of it. Because the harmonics are just multiples of the fundamental, they would anyway only add to the overall ‘quality’ of the sound, not anything different. The mushroom was sprouting from the flank of the frog, and scientists are not really worried about it because this is not how parasitic fungi work, and this is probably a very weird fluke. And finally, the Cuban tree frogs (Osteocephalus septentrionalis) are not really cannibals per se; they are just generalist predators who will just as happily eat a frog as they will a grasshopper, but the frogs they are eating are usually other species. People seem to forget that cannibalism is, by definition, within a species. The fact that they are generalist predators makes them a much bigger problem than if they were cannibals—a cannibal would actually kind of keep itself in check, which would be useful. The press just uses this to get people’s hackles up because Westerners are often equal parts disgusted and fascinated by cannibalism. 

What does an average day look like for the curator of herpetology at the Natural History Museum of Denmark?

No two days are the same, and that is one of the joys of the job. I could spend a whole day in meetings, where we might be discussing anything from which budget is going to pay for 1000 magnets to how we could attract big research funding, to what a label is going to say in our new museum exhibits (we are in the process of building a new museum). Equally, I might spend a day accompanying or facilitating a visitor dissecting a crocodile or photographing a hundred snakes. Or it might be divided into one-hour segments that cover a full spectrum: working with one of my students on a project, training volunteers in the collection, hunting down a lizard that someone wants to borrow from the museum, working on one of a dozen research projects of my own, writing funding proposals, or teaching classes. It is a job with a great deal of freedom, which really suits my work style and brain.

Oh yeah, and then every now and then, I get to go to the field and spend anywhere from a couple of weeks to several months tracking down reptiles and amphibians, usually in the rainforest. These are also work days—with work conditions you couldn’t sell to anyone: 18-hour work days, no weekends, no real rest, uncomfortable living conditions, sometimes dangerous locations or working conditions, field kitchen with limited options, and more leeches and other biting beasties than most health and welfare officers would tolerate—but the reward is the opportunity to make new discoveries and observations, collect critical data, and the privilege of getting to be in some of the most beautiful and biodiverse places left on the planet. So, I am humbled by the fact that I have the privilege and opportunity to undertake such expeditions, and grateful for the incredible teams I collaborate with that make all of this work—from the museum to the field—possible.

The Tibetan Blackbird is also known as Turdus maximus. What’s your favorite chortle-inducing scientific name in the world of herpetology?

Among reptiles and amphibians, there aren’t actually that many to choose from, but I must give great credit to my friend Oliver Hawlitschek and his team, who named the snake Lycodryas cococola, which actually means ‘Coco dweller’ in Latin, referring to its occurrence in coconut trees. When we were naming Mini mum, Mini scule, and Mini ature, I was inspired by the incredible list that Mark Isaac has compiled of punning species names, particularly by the extinct parrot Vini vidivici, and the beetles Gelae baen, Gelae belae, Gelae donut, Gelae fish, and Gelae rol. I have known about these since high school, and it has always been my ambition to get a species on this list.

If you were a frog, what frog would you be and why?

I think I would be a Phasmahyla because they’re weird and awkward, long-limbed, and look like they’re wearing glasses. As a 186 cm (6’3) glasses-wearing human with no coordination, they quite resonate with me.

Please rate this frog bread from 1/10. Can you tell us what frog it represents?

With the arms inside the body cavity like that, it can basically only be a brevicipitid rain frog. The roundness of the body fits, too. I’d say probably Breviceps macrops (or should I say Breadviceps?) based on those big eyes. 7/10, a little on the bumpy side and missing a finger and at least one toe.

Please follow Dr. Mark Scherz at @markscherz for even more incredibly educational, entertaining, and meaningful resources in the world of reptiles and amphibians.

[coopigeoncoo]

A Persistent Lack of Follow Through, Chapter 2: Salvage & Repair

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

Rating: Mature 18+

Tags: Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst with a Happy Ending, Personal Growth, Drinking, Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Sex, Weddings, Child Abuse, Todoroki Enji's Bad Parenting, Abusive Todorioki Enji, Pining, Shouto is Bad at Feelings, Natural Disasters, Fire, Serious Injuries, Domestic Fluff, Implied Pregnancy

---

Shouto had learned a lot from his Father; how to take a hit, how to pull himself back up, and how to hold a grudge.

But one thing Endeavor could never teach his children was how to be a good partner.

Shouto had to learn that particular skill the hard way.

---

He had spent long, sleepless nights reflecting on the things you had told him; the reasons you left. Every moment of your acquaintance was turned over repeatedly in his head and examined until one devastating conclusion was reached:

"I was a bad boyfriend," Shouto muttered dejectedly, idly picking at the label of the shochu bottle in the middle of the table.

---

A story where Shouto loves, loses, and learns.

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Shouto's deployment lasted far longer than he would have liked.  They had managed to suppress the blazes in under a week.  Heroes with fire based Quirks set about burning long stretches of untouched vegetation to create firebreaks while ice and water elemental Quirks worked on suppressing and extinguishing blazes that tried to jump the firewalls.  

It was exhausting work, but the hard labor and long hours kept him from thinking about his newly single status during the day and ensured that he was too tired to dream after he fell into his cot at night.  They had been packing up, ready to return to Japan when the call from his PR team came in.  

Animal rescue workers had found a juvenile Koala injured in the blaze, the skin around its left eye seared by a falling branch while it tried to escape to safety. They wanted him to come in and do a photoshoot to raise funds for the wildfire relief fund, the two of them a matching reminder about the lasting damage fire leaves behind.  

The original run of promotional materials were wildly successful and Shouto found his return flight pushed back again and again; a never-ending cycle of talk show spots and community appearances with Kodoroki (which had been the winning name in an online poll by a landslide).  As much as Shouto disliked being in the center ring of the media circus, the worst part of the entire ordeal was having to call his Father every few days to inform him of his further delays.  Endeavour had agreed to watch over Shouto's agency in his absence, and while he was long retired and unable to do any of the field work, his Father was a competent executive and everything was always in good working order upon his return.  

The first photoshoot with Kodoroki had been an awkward affair, neither Shouto nor the koala quite sure what to make of each other.  But as the weeks dragged on they had become more comfortable and Shouto found himself looking forward to being reunited with his little burned buddy each morning; greeting the young koala with a smile and eagerly awaiting the moment when his handlers would pass him into Shouto's awaiting arms.  

"Morning, Kodoroki," Shouto smiled, taking the joey into his arms while the photography team circled around him went wild.  "This is going to be our last day together, so let's make it a good one, okay?"

Kodoroki yipped in response, his claws wrapping around the belts slung around his shoulders as he clung to Shotou’s chest.  Having grown up without pets, Shouto had never understood why so many people were drawn to animals.  But after spending so much time with Kodoroki and experiencing the warm comfort an animal could provide he thought that maybe he was starting to understand the appeal a little.  His heart always felt a little bit lighter when Kodoroki was in his arms.  

"Maybe I should think about getting a pet when I get home," Shouto mused, shifting his grip on Kodoroki in between photos with the group of waiting politicians hovering around the corner of the room.

"Not a koala though.  You're kind of stinky," Shouto crinkled his nose while tapping Kodoroki's forehead.  "Also, I'm fairly sure keeping you would be illegal."

Unimpressed, Kodoroki grunted indignantly before releasing a particularly ripe fart that left the Senator next to him gagging.

"See? This is what I'm talking about, Kodoroki," Shouto coughed, fanning the air in front of his face while one of the handlers cracked a window open.  "You're not meant for polite society."

Shouto had been so used to coming up with reasons to visit Deku's agency to see you that it was strange to shift out of that mindset.  Sidekicks were sent to retrieve paperwork, meetings were attended via video call, and everything else was shoved into emails routed directly to Deku's personal devices.

But having to visit the Number One Hero's agency was inevitable in their line of work.  So with his shoulders set in false confidence, Shouto forced a neutral expression onto his face and set out towards Deku's office.  He had practiced this greeting in his head a thousand times; what he'd say, how you'd respond, wondering if you'd be happy to see him.  Or mad.  Or sad, like he was.  

He felt like he had prepared for every eventuality except the one he was confronted with: someone who wasn't you.

"Ah, hello?" He greeted the stranger, a bleary eyed man who looked like he hadn't had a good night's rest since the day he was born. Energy bar wrappers were scattered across the surface of your- his , desk and the small wastebasket beside him was overflowing with crushed coffee cans.  

"Hello, Hero Shouto," the man yawned, covering his open mouth with his hand and bobbing his head in Shouto's direction. "Deku is expecting you.  You can go ahead and enter.  After knocking, obviously.  Everyone should knock," the man whispered, his eyes dipping shut as he slumped down in his chair.  "Knock…knock…"

"Of course," Shouto agreed softly, lightly rapping on Deku's door before slipping inside.  

"Shouto!" Izuku cheered, lunging out of his chair to throw his arms around his friend in a crushing hug.  "It's been too long!  It's so good to see you!"

"It has been," Shouto agreed, patting his friend's back stiffly, always unsure about what to do with his hands in situations like this.  

"So," Izuku began awkwardly, pulling back from the too-long embrace with a pained grimace on his face.  "How're you holding up?  Since, well… you know."

"Not great, honestly," Shouto sighed, picking at a loose thread at the cuff of his uniform.  "It's been hard without her.  Really hard.  I didn't realize just how much of my life revolved around her until it suddenly didn't."

His eyes watered, despite his best effort to hold things together.  "I really miss her.  And as nervous as I was to come here, I was also looking forward to seeing her- making sure she was alright."

"I'm sorry," Izuku sighed, running a hand through his hopelessly tousled hair.  "She asked for a temporary transfer to another department while things…settle down between you guys.  She didn't want to make it harder for you, having to see her all the time."

Shouto was roughly struck by how much he both loved and hated your thoughtfulness at this moment in time.  

"Takai down in Accounting agreed to take her on for a while and sent up his guy to replace her," Izuku explained, eyeing the door to his office worryingly, the distant sound of sobbing filtering in through the cracks.  "I'm…not sure he's adjusting well to the switch.  It's a bit more stressful than he's used to, I think."

His friends had assured him that the pain he was feeling would fade with time, that he needed to be patient and eventually he'd begin to heal. 

So, he waited.

He waited to stop anticipating your cheerful greeting with bated breath when he came home after work each night.  He waited to stop reaching over to your side of the bed at night, desperate to feel the familiar press of your skin against his.  He waited for the urge to text you pictures of things he saw on patrol to pass, knowing how much you'd love to see how much the tagger on the East side of the city had been improving.  

Shouto waited and waited and waited , but if anything the time spent away from you just seemed to compound his misery instead of alleviate it.  He spent long, sleepless nights reflecting on the things you had told him; the reasons you left.  Every moment of your acquaintance was turned over repeatedly in his head and examined until one devastating conclusion was reached: 

"I was a bad boyfriend," Shouto muttered dejectedly, idly picking at the label of the shochu bottle in the middle of the table.  

"I'm sure that's not true," Yaomomo consoled him, reaching across the booth to pat his hand comfortingly.  

"I was ," Shouto whined, slumping down in his seat so Mina could pass a drink to Ochako over his head.  She was only mildly successful and ended up spilling some of her cocktail into his hair.

"Whoopsie!  Sorry about that, Shouto!" Mina grimaced, taking a hold of her cocktail glass with another hand to steady her grip while Ochako sipped from an unreasonably long crazy straw.

"It's fine," Shouto sighed as another glob of frozen margarita hit his head and began sliding down his neck.  "I probably deserve it anyway for the way I treated her."

"Okay, look.  Maybe you weren't a good boyfriend," Mina said, dropping down in her seat while Yaomomo shot her a disapproving glare.  "I don't know, I wasn't there.  But you can't keep beating yourself up over this- it's not healthy!"

"Right!" Ochako chimed in while indicating to the waitress she wanted two of whatever Mina was drinking.  "You made mistakes, but you acknowledge that you were in the wrong.  That's growth, Shouto!"

"Maybe," Shouto said mulishly, tearing the corner of the label he had been picking at fully off the bottle.  

"Did you apologize?" Yaomomo asked softly, taking a dainty sip from her wine glass.

"No, I haven't.  We haven't talked since my Australia mission," Shouto explained as he tore his strip of label into tiny pieces of confetti.  "Do you think I should?"

"Do you feel like you have something to apologize for?" Yaomomo inquired as she tucked a lock of hair behind Jiro's ear, tracing a finger gently down her elongated lobe.  Jiro, who was totally sober but utterly exhausted, had ended up falling asleep with her head on the table despite the raucous atmosphere of the bar they occupied.  Shouto watched, utterly transfixed at the natural show of casual intimacy, and couldn't help but remember your silent disappointment every time he dropped your hand and stepped away when his friends entered the room.  

Is this what he had been so afraid of?  His friends seeing how much he cared for you?  It had felt so important at the time, keeping you tucked away into the private facets of his life, that he didn't even consider what he was missing by doing so.  Would you have looked at him that tenderly?  Found little ways to touch him in public to let him know you cared?  

Shouto had been so worried about showing vulnerability to the people in his life that he needed to be strong for; afraid that they would somehow find his newfound softness to be detrimental, that they would suddenly find him a liability.

You made him feel weak when all he knew was how to be strong, and the thought of being seen as anything other than what he had been created to be- useful, powerful, terrified him.  

He didn't see any of those things when he looked at Yaomomo and Jiro.  All he saw was his friends, happy and in love; and all he felt was the icy vice of regret constricting on his heart.

"Yes," Shouto swallowed, remorse thick and unmoving in his throat.  "I think I have a lot to apologize for."

Shouto had accomplished many difficult things in his life.  He'd survived an abusive childhood, escaped multiple attempts at fratricide as a teenager, and managed to muster up the necessary strength to begin building a tentative relationship with his Father as an adult.  These days Shouto could occupy the same room as Enji for nearly forty minutes before the urge to strangle him became too overwhelming, which was positively cordial by Todoroki family standards.

The combined difficulty of all those accomplishments paled in comparison to the one that sat before Shouto at this very moment: texting his ex-girlfriend.  He must have started the message a dozen times, trying varying levels of formality before deleting everything he wrote in frustration.  

I'm sorry.

I know this is all my fault.

Please forgive me.

I wish we were still together.

I can't stop thinking of you.

Do you wake up every day as sad as I do?  

All those messages were true, but discarded all the same.  It took all evening, but he finally came up with a message he was moderately happy with; hitting send before he could second guess himself.

Shouto, 8:57pm "I miss talking with you."

Shouto's chest clenched with anticipation as dots bounced across his phone screen, awaiting your incoming response.

Deku's Assistant, 8:58pm "I miss talking with you, too."

A wave of self-loathing rolled through him as your contact name flashed across his screen.  Had he really not even bothered to change your profile name when you'd started dating?  He really did manage to bungle pretty much every aspect of your relationship, didn't he?  You must have really cared for him to put up with his callousness for so long.  

Deku's Assistant, 8:58pm "I've really been missing our friendship."

Shouto, 8:58pm "Me too." "Do you think enough time has passed for us to start talking again?"

Anxious minutes rolled by as Shouto awaited your response.

Deku's Assistant, 9:05pm "I don't know.  But I think I want to try."

Shouto's heart soared as his fingers flew across his screen, the jubilant smile stretched across his face so wide that his cheeks ached.  

Shouto, 9:07pm "Oh, thank goodness.  I have so many pictures I need to show you."

send: img_7895

Deku's Assistant, 9:08pm "Is that the cat near the Chinese Restaurant??"

Shouto, 9:08pm "Yes!  It turns out that she was pregnant, not fat."

Deku's Assistant, 9:09pm "I feel so bad making fun of her chunky tummy now."

Shouto, 9:09pm "Do you want to see her babies?"

Deku's Assistant, 9:09pm "YES!!!!"

The joy of regaining your friendship was a balm to Shouto's soul.  He still longed for the intimacies you had shared and was pretty sure he would vividly remember the feeling of your teeth nibbling on his lower lip until his dying day.  But being able to talk with you about his work or offer a sympathetic ear while you vented about your temporary reassignment was positively elating after months of separation.  

Currently, you were recounting a run-in with the catty Senior Receptionist in the Marketing Department, something that had been happening with increasing frequency the past couple of weeks.  

"I have no clue what I did to offend her, if anything.  Maybe she just doesn't like me for some reason?" You sighed into the phone, the distant sound of keys jingling filling Shouto's ears.  

"Impossible," Shouto scoffed as he opened up the fridge to peruse for something to heat up for dinner.  "Everybody likes you."

"That's not at all true, but I'll take the compliment.  I need it after today," you groaned, a sound Shouto knew accompanied you arriving home and sliding off your uncomfortable work shoes.

"Have you given any thought to transferring back to your old job?" Shouto asked, peeling back the corner of a container of leftovers to give the food inside a tentative sniff.  

"I, uh, yes.  Actually.  I'm going to be transferring back later this week," you stammer, oddly nervous about such a mundane topic.  

"Really?" Shouto pried, setting his container of food down on the counter to focus his attention on you.  "That's sudden."

"It's been in the works for a couple of weeks now, actually.  I just…didn't know how to bring it up."

"Because we'll be seeing each other in person again?" 

"A little, maybe?  But I'm mostly moving back for HR Reasons," you said, inhaling deeply before continuing.  "Takai and I have…started seeing each other."

"Oh," Shouto breathed, stunned by your admission.  He knew that the two of you weren't dating anymore, but the sudden realization that you would be seeing other people sent him reeling completely off balance; scrambling to grasp his counter for support.

"I'm sorry," you said, tone anxious and shaky.  "I should have told you sooner, but things had been going so well and I didn't want to bring it up and ruin everything-"

"No," Shouto interrupted.  "You didn't do anything wrong.  Your personal life isn't any of my business.  Not anymore."

"I- I'm so glad," you sniffle.  "I don't know if I could bear not talking to you again."

"Does he…does Takai make you happy?" Shouto asked despite his better judgment.  There was no way that your answer would satisfy him.  But some part of his heart, the self-destructive portion that kept accepting Fuyumi's invitations to family dinners, needed to know.  

"He does, Shouto.  He really does."

"I'm glad," Shouto lied, sinking slowly to the floor as his knees gave way.  "I need to go now.  Dinner awaits."

You bid your farewells and disconnected, leaving Shouto slumped against his fridge with the chill of his kitchen tiles seeping down into his bones.  

It was one thing to know you were dating another man, but seeing it in person turned out to be another matter entirely.  Shouto wasn't prepared for the sour sting of jealousy that curdled in his belly when he exited the elevator at Deku's agency and saw Takai doubled over, lips pressed firmly against yours.  You pulled away first, positively beaming up at him while you adjusted his tie before he straightened up to his full height and put himself out of reach of your tender ministrations.  

You returned to your chair and startled once you registered Shouto's presence in your work space.

"Oh!  Shouto!  I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were here," you grimaced, nervously turning a pen in your hands to distract from the awkward situation you suddenly found yourself plunged into.  You weren't exactly sure how you were supposed to officially introduce a new boyfriend to your ex, but having them drop in while you were kissing likely wasn't the best approach.  

"It's alright," Shouto assured you with a brittle smile, nodding tersely to Takai who returned the gesture with a smug grin.  Shouto wanted to hate him for it, but remembered he'd done the same when he was in Takai's position; bolstered with pride from being on the receiving end of your affection.    

With a parting wave, Shouto slid into Deku's office, collapsing into one of his empty chairs and burying his face into his hands, tears slipping through the gaps in his fingers while his friend scrambled for a tissue box.  

"Shouto!" Izuku cried out, shoving a handful of crumpled tissues under his nose.  "What happened?"

"I- I've really lost her for good, haven't I?" Shouto croaked, taking the wad of tissues from Deku's hand and sloppily mopping at his cheeks.  

"I think so," Izuku whispered, eyes misting sympathetically as he rubbed a calloused hand between Shouto's shoulder blades as he cried.  

Likely sensing how uncomfortable running into your boyfriend had made Shouto, you had gone out of your way to minimize the amount of contact between the two of them.  You didn't mention Takai during your daily calls or texts unless necessary and Shouto hadn't run into the two of you together since that disastrous day in Deku's office, likely because you were maneuvering them around each other like a chess grandmaster shuffled pieces around the board.

While he knew that he would eventually have to get used to Takai if the two of you were to remain friends, Shouto still appreciated your willingness to give him space while he did so.  He always admired that kindness and compassion in you and would never admit that your efforts were ultimately futile because he would never grow accustomed to seeing someone else occupying the place at your side where he used to stand; the place where he still very much wanted to be.

Shouto reveled in this false world he had crafted around the two of you; where Takai existed somewhere in the periphery of his mind, a distant problem he need not consider unless absolutely necessary.  He knew more about you now than he ever did when you were together, the past distance between the two of you giving Shouto a newfound appreciation for every bit of time you spent together.  For the first time since your breakup, it felt like Shouto was approaching something that resembled peace in his life.

That happiness he felt, the equilibrium he had achieved, all came crashing down dramatically one unremarkable Thursday evening during your daily chat as you walked the final leg of your commute home from work. 

"Shouto.  I need to tell you something," you began, a serious set to your words that put Shouto instantly on edge.

"What is it?"

"Takai asked me to marry him," you confessed.  "And I said yes."

"I- that's," Shouto paused in the middle of the sidewalk, people dodging around him with peevish glares as he struggled to reign in his racing thoughts.  "That's… great ."

"I didn't want you to hear it from someone else," you explained, voice suddenly muting as you pulled away from the phone to talk briefly with someone else.  "I have to go.  Some people down in Accounting are taking us out to celebrate."

"Have fun," Shouto croaked.  "And Congratulations.  Takai is a lucky man."

"Thank you," you whisper, a smile audible in the timbre of your voice.  "That means a lot, coming from you."

"Have a good time.  And be safe."

"I will.  Bye, Shouto."

"Good-bye," Shouto whispered, the sound of the dial tone fading seamlessly into the ringing in his ears as he spun on his heel and walked through the doorway of the closest bar.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Mr. Deku, Sir," the bartender bladders, wringing his bar towel nervously with his clawed hands.  "I just- I didn't know who else to call?  This is just my second week working here and the manager never really covered what to do when a Pro Hero won't leave?  And I've seen you and Shouto together a lot on TV, so I figured that you might be friends and know how to handle this, but now that you're here I just realized that you probably have way more important stuff to do-"

Deku cut off the young man's panicked monologue with a raised hand and reassuring smile.  

"You did the right thing by calling me.  I'll take it from here, okay?  Finish up whatever it is you need to do to close up and I'll be sure to have Shouto out by the time you're done."

"Yes, of course!  Thank you!" The bartender shouted, scrambling off to carry a tray of used glasses back into the kitchen.  Once he disappeared behind the back room door the smile slid from Izuku's face as he took in his long time friend, slumped over the bar with his head buried in his folded arms.  With a heavy sigh, Izuku slid onto the stool next to Shouto, the metal squealing in protest at his added weight.  

"Hey, Shouto," Izuku greeted, patting his friend's shoulder firmly. "It's time to go.  You've more than worn out your welcome here, I'm afraid."

"Iz'ku?" Shouo slurred, rolling his head to face Deku with fiercely squinted eyes.  "When'd ya get here?"

"Just a moment ago."

"Oh.  Tha's a shame," Shouto sighed.  "If you got here eerly- earlly- sooner, we coulda had a drink t'gether."

"How about we drink these?" Izuku asked, fishing two large bottles of water out of his backpack and depositing one in front of Shouto.  Nose crinkled in distaste, Shouto cracked the seal on his bottle and started sipping, his hand icing over too cool down the water to his preferred chilly temperature.  They sat in a companionable silence, slowly working through their drinks and watching a replay of yesterday's baseball game on the TV hung crookedly from the ceiling above the bar's framed liquor license.  

"My ex- she's gettin' married," Shouto said, drawing a finger through a bead of condensation along the bar top.  

"I know.  The entire office was in an uproar over it.  She brought me a slice of cake."

"Was it good?"

"It was alright," Izuku shrugged.  "A little dry, but the icing made up for it.

"Tha's good.  She deserves good things.  All the good things," Shouto nodded, the weight of his own head surprising him as it flopped from front to back.  

"Takai is good for her," Deku said, swinging back the last of his water before slipping the empty bottle back into his bag.  

"Takai," Shouto hissed.  "Wha' makes him so special anyway?  Why does she like him better than me?  He's too tall!  I bet his Grandfather was a pair of stilts."

"Shouto!  I know you're sad, but that's no excuse to be cruel.  Takai is a good man who treats her well," Izuku chided, poking the arm Shouto was holding his water with to remind him to keep drinking.  Reluctantly, Shouto took another mouthful of water, swishing it between his cheeks thoughtfully.   

"He treats her better than I ever did."

"He does," Izuku agreed sadly.

"I wish- I wish I could go back.  Do it all different.  Do y'know someone with a time travel Quirk?"

"I- yes, actually," Izuku admitted reluctantly.  "But I'm not going to let you create an alternate timeline because your ex moved on and you're sad about it."

"Ugh," Shouto grunted. "Why do you always have to be so reapons- responsible?"

"Comes with the job, I'm afraid.  You're supposed to be responsible too, you know."

"Lame," Shouto sighed, throwing back the last of his water and passing the empty bottle to Deku. 

"Sure is," Izuku laughed.  "I thought Pro Heroes were so cool growing up, but it turns out we're all a bunch of party pooping killjoys."

"So wha' am I s'posed to do now?"

"Well, that depends," Deku huffed, scratching at his chin thoughtfully.  "Were you just friends with her because you were hoping to get back together with her someday?"

"No," Shouto cried emphatically.  "I won't lie an' say I wasn't hoping for that, but I'm friends with her because we're good friends.  She's good.  And she makes me want to be gooder."

"That's… good, " Izuku snorted, amused at his friend's expense.  

"Yeah," Shouto grinned enthusiastically, his eyes glossy and unfocused. "It is!"

"So if she's a good friend, you need to be a good friend in return.  Talk to her.  Support her.  But step back and take a breather if it gets to be too much for you to handle.  There's no need for you to set yourself on fire here."

"Unless's an emergency," Shouto muttered seriously, staring down at his left hand in contemplation.  "I'm definitely supposed to light m'self on fire in an emergency.  That's half my job."

Unwavering romantic feelings aside and unmentioned, things were going relatively well between you and Shouto.  Once the initial shock of your engagement wore off, he was able to resume calling and messaging you on a regular basis.  He did need to take a few days off of work when your wedding invitation arrived at his apartment, a simple but elegantly penned note printed on crisp ivory paper that overwhelmed him with thoughts of a future he wasn't prepared to deal with at that particular moment in time.  

But he liked to think he was handling things much better these days.  

"Hey, Natsuo?" Shouto called, holding up two delicate plates for inspection.  "Which china set best conveys the message 'Congratulations, but I secretly hope your marriage fails so I can have a second chance with you?'  Is it Wedgwood?"

"Lemme see," Natsuo said as he took the plates into his hand, angling them to and fro under the dim store lights to get a better look at the delicate patterns.  

"Shouto," Fuyumi scolded gently, returning a pale blue tea cup to the display shelf. "There's no need to put yourself through this.  We can just order something off the registry and call it a day."

"No," Shouto said firmly, picking up a salad plate and immediately setting it down with a disapproving frown.  "I want to do this for her."

"Alright," Fuyumi sighed in defeat, wandering over to a display of shining silver teapots.  "How about one of these?"

"It needs to be china," Shouto insisted, staring critically at an oval serving platter with a brocade print running along the rim.  

"It reminds me of her."

"You're gonna' need to elaborate on that, Little Bro," Natsuo drawled, his attention still primarily focused on the plates Shouto had passed to him.  

"She's…delicate, but strong," Shouto explained, running a finger admiringly across the golden rim of a gravy boat.  "And even though you see her every day, you're still stuck by her beauty- a timeless elegance you can't help but admire."

"Shouto," Fuyumi cooed, clutching the teapot to her chest.  "That's so sweet!"

"Also, dishes are something you use repeatedly.  So if I give them to her I guarantee she'll have to think of me during every meal," Shouto grinned deviously. 

"I think you definitely want the Wedgwood then," Natsuo confirmed, sliding the rejected plate back into its stand.  "It's too expensive for her to give away without feeling guilty."

"Perfect!" Shouto beamed, waving the dinner plate in the air and using it to flag down a passing salesperson, their face instantly paling as they witnessed the lack of care Shouto was showing their unpurchased merchandise.  

"You shouldn't have encouraged him to be so petty," Fuyumi chastised, walloping Natsuo soundly on the bicep.  

"Hey!" He winced, rubbing at the spot his sister hit.  "This is the most excited Shouto has been in months.   If buying spite plates makes him happy, then who am I to judge?" Natsuo shrugged, fishing his phone from his jacket pocket to check on his missed messages.  

"I guess," Fuyumi mused, chewing on her lip.  "It's pretty harmless in the end, right?  She gets a nice set of dinnerware and Shouto is satisfied."

"Yep," Natuso agreed, still engrossed in his phone.  

"I'll go help him pick out some wrapping paper then," Fuyumi smiled, shuffling off to look at the display wall of wrapping options while the salesperson who had been helping Shouto rang up his purchase with a dazed expression, unable to do the mental math to calculate just how high their commission was going to be.  

To say that Shouto became increasingly distracted as your wedding day drew near was a profound misrepresentation of events.  Emotionally, he was in shambles and it was beginning to impact his work.  Distracted and slow, he was taking more hits than ever before and limping home after clocking out more often than not.  His sidekicks had taken it upon themselves to make sure he never patrolled alone; creating an unofficial schedule that kept him under someone's watchful eye every shift for the foreseeable future.  

They thought they were being secretive about it, but the signup sheet was just taped up on the wall of the sidekick locker room.  The custodian had discovered it the day it was initially hung and reported it to him immediately. Shouto had been so touched by his subordinates' show of concern for his well-being that he ignored their less than clandestine whispering and did his best to pretend to be unaware of their scheming.  He was absolutely indulging them, but he also appreciated their constant company more than he could adequately express.  

It was hard to be alone right now.

So when they were alerted to a villain attack a couple blocks away, the odds were in their favor; a top ranking hero with a familiar partner in tow usually made for a devastating combination most villains didn't stand a chance against.  

But it seemed like everything that could have possibly gone wrong did.  Physical attacks from both him and Ice Pick, his sidekick du jour, weren't landing.  Their Quirks were sluggish and misfiring, Ice Pick had lost her footing and stumbled into his side; knocking him off balance as well.  The evidence was quickly pointing to some sort of luck manipulation Quirk that they had no idea how to counter. 

"Any ideas, Boss?" Ice Pick panted, sending a blast of needle-sharp icicles the Villain's way and screeching in frustration when they all miraculously managed to miss their target.  

"Nothing immediately comes to mind," Shouto grunted, ducking behind a parked car to take stock of the situation.  "I think our best course of action is to keep him distracted until backup arrives.  Call back to the agency and make sure whoever is en route is equipped with Quirk repressing gear."

"Roger that!"

Shouto rolled out from his cover, throwing out a flare blast he knew wouldn't connect, but would hopefully drive the villain away from the cram school he had been encroaching on.  Ice Pick, having finished relaying messages back to headquarters, was quick to return to his side.  

"Back up due to arrive momentarily."

Shouto opened his mouth to respond to her, but caught sight of something in the distance that pulled his attention away.  Speeding towards the villain in front of them at breakneck speed was what looked like a cannonball, but with a slight wobble around the edges like it wasn't fully solid.  Given what he ascertained about the trajectory of projectiles lobbed at the villain, Shouto knew it would never connect with its intended target and would instead deflect right towards where Ice Pick was standing.  

"WATCH OUT," Shouto bellowed, pushing Ice Pick out of the way and coating his right side in a thick layer of ice to absorb the force of the impending blow.  The projectile made contact and swept Shouto off his feet and sent him flying backwards off of the street and through the glass window of a nearby shop.  High pitched screeches and cries rang out around him as he finally came skidding to a stop in the middle of the floor, large groups of women scrambling to escape the destruction he left in his wake.  Employees wearing bright fluorescent vests were doing their best to funnel the panicking customers back through the emergency exit, but a few stragglers hung back to record the goings on with their cell phones until the very last moment.    

With a groan, Shouto pushed himself up into a sitting position, hand darting up tenderly cradle his obviously broken ribs with a pained hiss.  

"Shit," he swore lowly, ignoring the sharp pains in his side and the crackling sound that accompanied every breath.  

"Shouto!" he heard someone scream through the ringing in his ears, assuming it was Ice Pick rushing to his aide as he slowly shifted until he was on all fours, grasping onto the arm of a nearby chair to keep upright as his vision wavered.  

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You screech, pushing down on his shoulders to keep him from attempting to pull himself up into a standing position.  "You are seriously injured, Shouto!  Stay down !"

Shouto's head snapped towards you, which was a mistake because the sudden movement made a wave of nausea roll through him.  Swallowing down the bile creeping up his esophagus, he was able to finally focus his attention on you.  If it wasn't for his agonizing injuries Shouto was fairly certain he would have thought he was in heaven as you knelt next to him, an absolute vision in a white dress with delicately pearls glimmering in the fluctuating light from the emergency strobe lamps.  

"What are you doing here?" Shouto managed to mumble, distracted by the delicate swooping of your exposed collar bone.  He always loved running kisses across it- you always laughed while he did so, scrunching up your shoulders and burrowing in on yourself in an attempt to protect the delicate flesh from his wandering lips.  

He missed that.

He also missed what you were just saying.

"-on wedding dresses."

"Oh," Shouto wheezed, blinking at you owlishly.  "You look really beautiful."

"Thanks," you smiled, pushing on his shoulders until he was laying down on the floor, his head pooled in the fluffy fabric of your skirt, staring up at you with a dopey grin.  "You know, if you wanted to come dress shopping with me you could have just asked.  This is a bit dramatic even for you."

Shouto barked out a laugh and then immediately groaned as his lungs sharply protested his sudden mirth.  "Stop being charming," Shouto chided, eyes tracing over the tucks and folds of the bodice of your dress. "I can't handle you at full power right now."

"I'll tone it down then," you sniffled, running a shaking hand through his mussed hair, pulling out tiny slivers of glass with careful fingers and flicking them behind you carelessly.  

"Is this it?" Shouto mumbled, his lips slick with a mixture of spittle and blood.  

"Is what it?  What do you mean?" You asked worriedly, prying and eyelid open to examine his pupil.  

"The dress," Shouto clarified with a rattling sigh, frowning when tiny red dots suddenly bloomed across the pristine white fabric.  "Is this the one?"

"Oh," you breathe in relief, letting go of his eyelid and returning to running your fingers along his scalp.  "Yeah.  I think this is the one."

"'s perfect," Shouto whispered, eyelids growing heavy as the edges of his vision darkened.  "Defin'ly buy this one…"

"Shou-!  -ay awake!" You cried, tears streaming down your face while Shouto buried his face into your stomach, inhaling the scent of your skin layered underneath the fragrance of starch from the dress; snippets of your words filtering through his brain like a sieve.  

"-ncussion!  Stay awake!  Ple-!"

"I already call-"

"-Deku is on-"

And then there was silence.

The road to recovery was far longer than Shouto would have liked.  Any sort of brain injury booked you an immediate and non negotiable week long stay in the Hero Intensive Care Unit with CT scans scheduled daily.  Shouto flitted in and out of consciousness for a couple of days until they pulled back on his meds, and from there on out he made steady improvement, suffering through never ending days of under salted meals and reciting his ABCs backwards to prove his brain was in fine working order.  

Half-way through his stay he was visited by a deeply apologetic Gunhead and his terrified Intern, Cannon Blob, who had been the one that had lobbed the projectile that had taken Shouto out.  

"Hot shot here broke protocols and rushed ahead without me," Gunhead explained as Cannon Blob repeatedly bowed at Shouto's bedside, his lips wobbling as a constant stream of apologies tumbled from his mouth.  "I told him he's lucky you were able to push Ice Pick out of the way and throw up some sort of shield.  If you hadn't, he'd be visiting a grave instead of a hospital."

Shouto looked at the terrified Intern, still just a kid struggling to learn the cruel rules of the adult game they had signed their life away to play.  The reformed Hero Commission had raised the age for entering into Heroism after the war, the world rightfully opposed to the government keeping the gears of society greased with the blood of child soldiers.  But even with the increase in age, Cannon Blob just looked so young . Too young , really.   

With a weary sigh, Shouto dropped his hand down onto Cannon Blob's shoulder, interrupting his frantic bowing with a firm squeeze.  

"Take this experience to heart," Shouto said, pausing to cough gently into the crook of his arm.  "Learn from this mistake and follow through with that lesson; don't fall back into the same bad habits that led you to today."

"I will!" Cannon Blob blubbered, wiping his tears on his uniform sleeves.  "I promise I will, Shouto!"

"See that you do.  Gunhead is an excellent mentor.  Listen to him and I know you'll become a Hero I'll enjoy working with in the future."

"Thanks Shouto," Gunhead nodded, steering Cannon Blob away from his bedside and towards the door.  "Tell you Old Man I said 'Hello'".  

"I'd rather take another hit from Cannon Blob," Shouto stated blandly, a corner of his mouth curling at the sound of Gunhead's booming laugh echoing down the hospital hallway.  

It was still a good stretch of time before Shouto was allowed back into the field.  It was nice being back in his office at first, a welcomed change to the sterile environment the hospital offered, but he quickly grew restless on desk duty and looked for any reason to get out and stretch his legs during the day.

So he accompanied his company gofers on coffee runs, lugged packages around the mailroom, and hand delivered high-level clearance messages between nearby agencies.  Today's errand run took him by Deku's office, a place that he'd been avoiding for a while now.  

You'd been unable to visit him in the hospital since civilians are banned from entering unless they were the emergency contact or direct family members or of the patient, and he'd delayed replacing his phone right away to buy himself a couple extra days of contemplation before he had to speak with you again.  

While a lot of the accident was at this point a hazy blur in his memories, the image of you in that wedding dress was seared into his brain like no other sight had been before.  You were there every time he closed his eyes, invading his dreams in that flowing white dress.  More often than not his visions followed a rough outline of the actual event, with Shouto's head cradled in your lap while you ran your hands across his face with a tender smile.  But sometimes his brain would rearrange things to its liking, depositing you at the end of a long aisle and having you march steadily towards him.  

And once he had thought about you reaching him, a bouquet of fluffy chrysanthemums tightly grasped in your hands as you grinned up at him so sweetly that it made his teeth ache; he just couldn't find a way to stop.   

He didn't know how he could face you, knowing with absolute clarity how radiant you'd be as a bride.

But not as his bride.

The future he dreamed about wasn't his to claim.  He felt a fleeting moment of kinship to his Father, wondering if this is how he felt standing in All Might's shadow for so many years; success somehow both tantalizingly close and impossibly far from his grasp.  

When he'd finally switched his SIM card over to his new phone and booted it up, he was inundated with missed calls and texts; his inbox filling up faster than he could answer them, most of them from you.  Shouto had assured you that he was fine, but convalescent and in no shape to entertain visitors.  After double checking that he didn't need anything, you had backed off and resumed your normal messaging routine; occasional texts throughout the day and a quick call while walking home that Shouto let ring more often than he picked up.

With a fortifying breath as the elevator ascended to Deku's top office, Shouto prepared to face you for the first time since the bridal boutique.  The elevator doors whooshed open and Shouto strode purposefully towards your desk, a neutral look settled on his face that would hopefully not alert you to the panicked thundering of his heart.  

"Of course.  Yes, I understand.  I'll relay the message immediately," you spoke into the phone receiver perched on your shoulder, fingers flying across your computer keyboard as you logged some sort of information for future reference.  "Thank you for returning my call so quickly.  Have a wonderful day!"

Dropping the receiver into its base, you finally turned to address the new visitor, routine greeting evaporating off of your tongue when you realized who was standing in front of you.  

"Shouto!" You cried, leaping up from your chair so quickly you stumbled a bit as you rounded the desk and threw your arms around Shouto's neck with a sob.  "You're okay!  You're really okay!  I was so worried!"

"I'm alright," Shouto mumbled soothingly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you further into his embrace.  

"I was so scared," you cried into his shoulder.  

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you sniffled, eyes red as you wiped at your tears with the back of your hands.  "Just try to pass out a little less ostentatiously next time, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Shouto promised, passing you the handkerchief he had tucked into his back pocket.  You accepted his offering with a grateful smile, blowing your nose with an unbecoming honk as you tried to regain your composure.  

"Okay," you stated firmly, squaring your shoulders and moving back to your desk chair.  "I'm sure you're here on official business, so I'll stop monopolizing your time.  Deku's free so you can head on in."

Moving past your desk, Shouto drew to an abrupt halt when he noticed the new addition to your desk decorations; a fluffy brown Koala dressed up in a replica of his Hero costume.

"You bought one of the Kodoroki dolls?" Shouto asked, picking the stuffed animal up and running a finger over the pink patch of fur around its left eye with a fond smile.  

"Of course I did!  I couldn't resist supporting my favorite Hero and a cute koala at the same time!  No woman is that strong," you sighed with a helpless shrug.  

"I'm your favorite Hero?" Shouto whispered in awe.  "Still?  Even after- after how poorly I treated you when we were together?"

"You weren't so bad," you generously offered up in his defense.  

"I was a pig-headed, callous idiot," he reminded you flatly.

"You definitely had your faults as a boyfriend," you agreed with a laugh, taking Kodoroki back from his hands and fluffing his ears to your liking before returning him to his place of honor next to your computer monitor.  "But I can't imagine a greater Hero than you."

"How thick are these doors?" Shouto whispered, hitching a thumb towards your boss's office.  "Is your job in Jeopardy if Deku overhears you supporting another Hero?"

"Please," you scoff dismissively, bopping Kodoroki on the nose before you log back onto your PC to resume working.  "He has no place to judge when his office can double as an official satellite location for the All Might Museum."

[thedo0zyslider]

Your Love Is Like A Wave (And It's Drowning Me Out) - 9k Words

A series of Majorwood drabbles, starting in Double Life and going through the next season, and bleeding into New Life as well

Or: 9k words of majorwood just for all of you 💖

A03 Link

Martyn is currently sitting by a cobblestone box, giggling to himself slightly. Said cobblestone box contains Jimmy, a red life, who he and the rest of his weird little quartet of yellows managed to kidnap. He doesn’t know exactly why he’s giggling though.

Well he kinda does, because this whole thing is a little funny. Jimmy still has air, and can see the sky, so for now he’s just loudly complaining and calling for his rancher to come to rescue him, all the while slinging curses at the other four. Pearl’s sitting on the edge of the box, dangling a hand in ever so often. Like the caged canary were some sort of wild animal that could bite at any moment, instead of ya know their friend? (To be fair Jimmy had tried to bite her once, but it probably wasn’t serious. Probably. )

Cleo is closer to him than Pearl is, making her own comments and jabs about the situation. And sandwiched right between them is Scott, and that man is the whole reason why Martyn isn’t sure why he’s giggling.

Making fun of Tim like this is always funny to an extent, but at some point Martyn’s brain laser focused on Scott and decided to never focus on anything else ever. Pearl and Cleo might as well not even be here, and Jimmy is only there to his brain because of his near constant back and forth with Scott. The man is close to him, very close, and taking quite a good amount of joy in teasing his former husband. All Martyn has been able to think about for the past five, maybe ten minutes is the sound of Scott’s voice and how nice his laugh sounds.

He already knew he had sort of a thing for Cleo. That was a given, they were soulmates, and Martyn was very weak for pretty people. But he wasn’t expecting Scott to be lumped in as well. It’s not like there was anything wrong with Scott, or that he wasn’t attractive or something. It’s just that their relationship has never been….positive in these games? And especially not now that Cleo hates him.

He ends up staring apparently, and maybe looking a little too taken with the man beside him at one point. Scott does catch his gaze for a moment, but that doesn’t stop Martyn from zoning out and staring. Cleo does though, her icy undead gaze seeing right through him. He looks aways, ears turning a little red, just as they hear Tango’s voice coming from over the hill.

“Ya know he’s into you, right?” Cleo says one day.

“What?” Scott mutters back, having literally no idea what they're talking about. “ He ” could literally be eleven other people on this server, most of whom claim to be in a happy relationship or something. So for their sakes Scott hopes the mysterious he does not like him, even if being a homewrecker and stealing Bdubs’s dream would be kinda funny.

“Martyn, he’s into you.” The zombie repeats herself, giving him a slightly unimpressed look. “You’ve noticed the staring, right?”

“Yeah,” Scott huffs, looking back over the ravine. “But I thought he was staring at you, because you were right next to me, or he was being…..being well Martyn. ”

“ Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Cleo exclaims, looking at him like he’s a ghost. “I caught him staring at you the other day and he blushed! ” They look like they’re ready to grab Scott by the shoulders and shake him for being so oblivious. He also gets the vibe that she’s trying to push them together for some reason, which is weird because the zombie absolutely despises that man right now. Scott would know, she’s told him as much on late night “our soulmates suck” rants.

He hums in response, deciding that looking anywhere else was better than meeting Cleo’s gaze at the moment. She was giving him a look, one of those I can’t believe your this stupid looks.

“Pretty sure I’m not into him, so…” Scott mutters after a moment.

“You were staring dreamily at his base when I brought that up.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but promptly closes it when no words come to him. He’s not into Martyn, wouldn’t be in a million years. Even that sounds like the words of a man in denial, and Scott has to stiffen a sigh; eyes now purposely staying very far away from where the blonde's ugly little baston lies. It is always there though, in the corner of his vision, tempting him to look over again.

Martyn sat on the edge of the island, humming absentmindedly to himself; feet dangling in the water below. He was taking a break for…whatever he’d been doing before, and was now just watching the grass slowly spread across the manmade island, pondering all the while. He wasn’t pondering anything bad, no not at all! He didn’t have anything bad to ponder about in the first place. He loved being a Mean Gill, and was very grateful that Scott had allowed him to stay. There was just a slight, erm, issue .

His little….lets call it an infatuation from the previous season had come back. It was in full force too, to make matters worse.

Martyn could feel himself blushing red at the thought, and tried very hard to stop that. How would he explain sitting there, randomly red as a tomato, to anyone who saw? Because TIES could very easily see him, and Scott was probably somewhere nearby. The awful, pretty, beautiful, absolutely horrible man that was making him like this in the first place.

The blonde kicked at the water, watching it ripple and splash. Why did emotions have to be so weird?

Ever since he’d teamed up with the man, Martyn's thoughts had become filled with nothing but Scott. He’d laid awake, bed agonizingly close to the others, and thought about how pretty his eyes were. How he could drown in them and wouldn’t even complain. He thought about his hair, how soft it looked, how he desperately wanted to play with it and run his fingers through it. He thought how not only did Scott have fish features now, which were a little hot honestly, he also had freckles; which were fucking adorable , actually? Martyn didn’t even know he had a thing for freckles or fish people before, but you learn something new everyday he supposed.

He thought about pressing kisses to each of Scott’s freckles, of holding his face and cuddling him late in the night. He thought about how he always had to keep his gaze away from Scott’s lips, how he had to ignore the impulse to kiss him out of the blue because that was weird and wrong and Scott didn’t even like him back.

Martyn kicked the water again, with more force this time. He watched the ripples and splashes again, ones that were now more forceful, and was aware that his face was probably souring a little.

It was never like this before, never like this with Ren. With ren they’d just…. been something from the start it felt like. Maybe that was because Ren’s affection was loud, something he wasn’t shy about; so Martyn hadn’t been shy either. That feeling had burned pleasantly, it had been all consuming and the light he clung onto in the darkest days.

But now Ren wasn’t here, and Martyn didn’t have that light, that comfort . Martyn didn’t have that all consuming fire anymore. He’d been a little taken by them both he thinks, in Double Life. But back then Ren was bright and familiar and well….his usual self. Scott had been hurt, had been colder, would sneer at him and Pearl after throwing them out. It was hard to admit a guy was pretty when you saw his actions drive someone closer to insanity is all. (Though Martyn had also left her, which he felt bad about in hindsight, but at the time it was never their fault to his head. It was always Scott and Cleo ; they were always the bad guys . And now he knows there were no bad guys in that situation, that yeah maybe all four of ‘em kinda sucked and treated each other like shit.)

WIthout Ren, without the complications that came with soulbonds, this feeling had creeped up on him. It had ensnared him and wouldn’t let go; it’d stuck its tendrils in him and he couldn’t pull them out. And Martyn didn’t want to let go of it either, because Scott made him feel warm and fuzzy and bright and he adored it. He adored him , even if this was the most painful unrequited slow burn he’d ever been tangled up in.

Scott’s voice called his name from somewhere behind them, presumably their shared house, and Martyn jumped. His heart skipped a few beats in his chest, and dear god the blonde could feel himself swooning and he wasn’t even within bloody eyesight of Scott yet. He took a deep breath, tried to calm his probably flushing face and stood up, wincing at how soaked his sandals were. Yeah, maybe this was more than an infatuation , and he’d be an absolute idiot to keep thinking that. Maybe he was a little down bad, if you must. Maybe he had a little crush even.

He called back to the other, slowly walking back. He briefly thought about the teasing flirts Scott gave him, and the ones that sounded a little too shy, when Scott flushed the slightest bit of pretty light pink as he spoke. Those were the ones Martyn didn’t think were his teammates normal “flirt with every man in a five mile radius” bit. He thought, desperately hoped, that they were real.

And if Scott was going to flirt so much Team TIES asked about it once, why not play into the bit a little more? Martyn normally wasn’t one to be shy with his affections like this, and just because Scott made him feel like a lovesick schoolgirl, made him feel like no one else ever would, didn’t mean he had to be.

Martyn reached their storage room with a smile and decided yeah, he'll have some fun with this. Maybe he’d get a yes or no at the end of it too.

They're standing there, talking with Jimmy when it happens. Scott’s forgotten why they were at the mansion in the first place really, just that they were there. The conversation had turned to friendly teasing at one point, as it always does with the blonde avian. The two Mean Gills admittedly aren’t very good at not taking the mick out of him.

Today the teasing is because of how Jimmy looks at them both. His gaze is shifting in between them, focusing on the way Martyn stands a little too close to Scott; close enough to be something more than friendly. Close enough where if he wanted to, Scott could easily slip a hand into Martyn’s warm ones and never let go.

The two islanders exchange a subtle little look at one point, and it’s clear both of them have come to the same conclusion. His teammate turns back to Jimmy, a devilish little smile dancing on his lips, and Scott is a little excited (and maybe nervous) to see what he does with that new information.

"What Tim?" Martyn teased lightly, a smirk forming on his face. "Ya jealous that your ex got a new partner?" And oh . That’s where Martyn’s taking this. Scott’s breath hitches slightly, and he hopes the other two don’t notice as the word partner starts to repeat over and over again in his head. The word is soon on loop, like it’s coming from a broken record player, and Scott has to tell himself it means nothing. They're not partners….like that . They’re base partners , allies , and most disappointedly just friends ; even if half the server does think otherwise.

Scott gets a grip of his reeling thoughts after a moment, replacing them with curiosity. He decides to say nothing, and let Martyn go…wherever he’s going with this still.

"No." Jimmy replies a moment later, his voice stiff and controlled. He's still looking at them, and at how close they are. He isn't fooling anyone with that, because they can both see the jealous glint in his eyes and how his wings have puffed up behind him.

"You sure about that?" Scott gave the blonde a smirk of his own, a little more light than Martyn's was. He didn’t want to actually upset Jimmy with the teasing, just to poke a little fun at him. He'd also be a massive hypocrite if he made the other man feel bad or something about being jealous, because he'd literally been jealous of Tango and Jimmy last season.

However, and a little frustratingly, Martyn seemed to be working against him. The blonde moved, and before Scott knew what was happening there were arms around his waist. He blinked, feeling heat rise to his face as Martyn hugged him from behind. The blonde rested his head on Scott's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck a little. This man was horrible actually, Scott decided, and he didn’t like him at all anymore.

Jimmy caught his surprised look, and the merfolk desperately wished he didn't blush so easily. It was clear that the blonde was surprised as well, because that was a bold move Martyn had just done. The avian glanced between them one more time, clearly gathering that this was unexpected, before speaking again. "Yep, pretty sure. Goodbye now!" He huffed.

With that Jimmy turned away, clearly not wanting to witness anymore of their PDA, and scrambled his way back to the top of Bad Boy Manor. Martyn just giggled lightly next to Scott's ear and moved away.

When they returned to their island, Martyn did it once again. Scott had been standing in their little newly built storage area, searching for a material he swore he put in that chest. It almost wasn't a surprise when his teammate took a chance to hold him again, warm arms wrapping around his waist again.

"Hey" Scott whispered, letting himself lean into the touch this time.

"Hi" Martyn responded, resting his chin on Scott's shoulder once more. He heard the triumphant smile in the blonde's voice, and presumed there was blush spreading down his neck. His face felt like it was on fire, so that wasn't too surprising either.

"Was Timmy actually jealous back there?" Martyn asked against his neck, having started to nuzzle it again. Scott was really hoping that no one decided to come over right now.

"Yeah, he was." He responded, letting out a small humorless laugh.

"Probably shouldn't have pushed him so far huh." Martyn sighed. "Especially not doing….this." He'd stopped nuzzling Scott, and just buried his head in the crook of his neck instead. Scott shivered, able to feel the others warm breath ghosting over his gills and scales.

"It's fine, I'll message him later" Scott said, finally resuming his search for that material. He’d been so wrapped up in Martyn's presence, he hadn’t even realized he'd stopped doing that.

He let silence fall for a few minutes, Martyn watching as he shuffled through a seemingly endless pile of items, and listening to Scott’s mutters about how badly he needed to organize their stuff. He felt the blonde smile against his skin, before swaying them gently. This whole interaction felt so….domestic, and Scott wondered if he was wrong for wanting more.

"This is nice, though.." Scott muttered into the silence, barely audible. His frills swiveled back in embarrassment, and he felt his face start to heat up even further. There was a sudden, barely there heat against his neck, and he was pretty sure he'd made Martyn blush as well, possibly for the first time that day. It was a small win, but he'd take it. Scott had one point so far and Martyn had like five probably. Yeah that was a good guess, and Scott wouldn't be surprised if it was more. That man was very good at flirting, he had to admit.

Martyn nuzzled him again as a response, and warmth fluttered wildly in his stomach. Okay then, never mind. Martyn six , Scott one.

"I need to move, Martyn." Scott mumbled when he was done searching, fondly glancing at the other. He would love to stay like this, but he tragically could not reach the crafting table from here.

Martyn mumbled something unintelligible and maybe a little grumpy, before starting to let go of Scott’s waist. Before he let go fully, when his hands rested nicely on the merfolks hips, he leaned down to press a small kiss to the side of Scott’s neck. He pecked the other right under where his gills lay, sending yet another shiver to course though Scott.

Scott stood there for a moment, eyes wide. Hadn’t been expecting that when he woke up that morning, that was for sure. He placed a hand on his neck, feeling around his gills absentmindedly. He felt Martyn’s sly smirk on him as the blonde turned and left the room, walking back towards the upper part of their house.

Martyn hummed, standing beside Scott idly. The latter was talking with Cleo about something or other, something Martyn wasn't interested in. He wasn’t here for chatter, he was here to protect Scott. No one had tried to come from them yet, but his teammate had the most time by far. And he'll be damned if he lets anyone take that away.

Maybe he ends up staring at Scott and zoning out, just like he did back in Double Life. But by now Scott’s used to it, because Martyn can't help himself from looking at something so beautiful. By now Scott is already prepared to tease him for it on a moment's notice, so it's not a big deal like it used to be.

It had taken a while for Martyn to notice this consciously, but he found Scott's fins adorable. He liked the way they moved, how they shone and shimmered under the sunlight. They folded in when he was embarrassed or flustered, which made Martyn want to flirt and fluster him even more. And the freckles, again. God how he wanted to press kisses into each one of those.

He was blinked out of his thoughts by Cleos mildly amused gaze, and the wonderful sound of his merfolk voice.

"Did you hear me, darling?" Scott asked. Beside them, Cleo failed to muffle a wide grin.

Martyn stood there for a minute, cogs beginning to turn in his head. Scott had called him darling. Darling . He concentrated a little too hard on his rapidly beating heart, on not losing his composure and turning red a tomato, that he entirely missed the awkward silence that stretched out after the question.

"Martyn?" Scott asked again, giving him a slightly concerned, yet amused, look. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah I'm fine, perfectly okay!" Martyn smiled back, voice going a little higher than intended.

"Okay!" Scott smiled, turning to resume his conversation with Cleo. The merfolks smile had been a little slow and mischievous, and Martyn wanted to shrink into himself in embarrassment. Scott now knew that he was weak for pet names, and was sure to use that against him very often from now on.

Cleo just leaned in to whisper something in Scott’s ear, something that made him flush. A little perplexed, Martyn watched as he slapped her lightly on the arm; the zombie giggling all the while.

There was water rushing all around him, blood pumping through his veins and pounding in his ears. Water splashed nearby, and Martyn turned to kick at Jimmy again. The avian, who was foolish in the water when he had wings, just coughed up a bit of blood, Martyn’s shoe having caught him in the face slightly.

Jimmy wasn't made for swimming, and the yellow wings just made it harder for him too. They started to drag him down a bit with how thoroughly soaked they were getting, which made Martyn's job just a smidge easier. He knew Jimmy kinda hated swimming, so the fact that he was in the water was a testament to how desperate everyone was for time.

"Scott? Scott!?" He called, desperately splashing in the shallows by their island. He couldn't see Scott anywhere, and panic behind to swirl violently in the blonde's stomach. Where'd he go? Did someone get him? What if he's dead, what if-

"Martyn!" Scott's answering yell came from the other side of the island, a few feet off, and Martyn wished he hadn't called out. Their others now knew where his teammate was as well. Which was fine, he could handle that, he just had to swim faster.

He reached Scott in record time, having to kick and fend Jimmy off at least two more times. The other pursuers were gaining as well, and Martyn had never been more relieved to see Scott’s living face, a sword clutched closely to his chest.

"Scott!" He gasped, swimming over till they were floating face to face. They were farther out than Martyn had initially thought, but he didn't mind at all. Deeper water just made it easier to drown people. Under the water, Scott grabbed his hand and squeezed.

"Martyn! Martyn you have to kill me please!" He exclaimed, casting a fearful look over the blonde's shoulder. They could hear splashing sounds, ones that were getting rapidly closer.

If they had the time for it, Martyn's brain would've slowed down, long enough for him to sit there and gape at Scott, horrified, for at least a few minutes. But they didn't have time, quite ironically, so he just squeezed Scott’s hand back and yelled. "Why?" He asked, voice close to breaking. "I can't do that to you Scott, I-"

The merfolk cut him off by placing a hand over his mouth. "I don't want anyone else but you to have my time!" He said, staring serious into the ocean blur of Martyn’s eyes. Scott’s tone started out harsh, but turned softer with each word.

" Please. " He begged one last time, removing the hand from the blonde's mouth. Martyn said nothing for a moment, letting Scott’s sword be shoved into his own hands. He hadn’t even used it and the weapon felt dirty to hold, as if the mere suggestion was tainting it.

Under the surface two sets of legs moved to keep their owners afloat, and a tail flicked in a wild panic. Behind them the splashing got even louder, till it was roaring in Martyn's ears again. It was then he realized he didn't have a choice, did he? And pulled Scott in closer.

Scott’s breathing hitched, from fear or something else Martyn didn’t know. His hands shook, but he managed to get a surprisingly firm grip of the sword. He was going to burn it later, and make Scott a newer, better one, one that didn't remind him of one of the worst incidents of his life.

His eyes flicked down to Scott’s lips, then thought better of it. Martyn knew he didn’t want to do it this way, so he moved to press his lips to Scott’s forehead instead.

The merfolk let out a strangled cry of pain, the sword being shoved through his ribs. As he pulled the cursed weapon out, Martyn moved closer, eyes pressed shut. He peppered more kisses to Scott’s forehead, to his hair, muttering comforts; that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He buried his nose into Scott’s soft blue locks and murmured that he was sorry, tears falling from his cheeks. He did so until Scott had despawned, and there was nothing but the murder weapon for him to hold anymore. The thirty minutes that washed over him felt disgusting and vile, and he almost couldn't wait to die and lose them.

Martyn stayed there, floating on exhausted limbs, until the splashing was gone, until the roaring in his ears stopped, and until he felt okay enough to go inside and see his teammate once more.

He broke down anyways, poorly retrained tears dampening Scott's now yellow jacket. The merfolk said nothing, just let him cling to his chest and cry.

"Martyn?" Scott asked, voice groggy with sleep. He'd been awoken by shuffling sounds from somewhere else in the house. At first, he'd assumed it was Martyn using the restroom or something else you normally did at one in the morning. But then the sounds had continued, and woken him up again less than ten minutes later. He was pretty sure it was just Martyn, but got up to check anyways, in case they were actually being robbed or trapped. He didn’t wanna wake up in the morning by being exploded after all.

“Martyn?” He asked, stifling a loud yawn. Scott now stood in the doorway, his hand gripping it as he watched the blonde prepare what seemed to be some sort of drink. "Oh sorry." Martyn said, turning to face the other man. A hot mug of coffee was held in his hands, the distinct smell of it quickly crowding Scott’s sleepy senses. "Can't sleep." He mumbled the explanation a little sheepishly, like Scott would be bothered by his teammates having one off night in a death game.

He was going to not think about how the other man made coffee in a server with limited resources, because as far as Scott knew this map did not have a jungle for cocoa beans. Though it might, in the unexplored area. He wouldn’t know though, because it was unexplored and it was also one in the morning. Scott simply waved a goodbye, stifling another yawn as he turned to tiredly shuffle back to his bed, the blonde's gaze on him all the while.

An hour later, when Martyn still hadn’t gotten any quieter, was when Scott decided to make him sleep. Or else.

"Oh shit, sorry-" The blonde said a little blearily when Scott walked into the room for a second time.

"Why can't you sleep?" Scott asked bluntly, hands resting on his hips. There was a certain bit of annoyance in his voice, he was sure of it. Scott was aware he probably looked like some sort of sleep deprived, scary mother of three, but if that was the look needed to get his question answered, then so be it.

"Nightmares…about the, ya know…" Martyn seemed to shrink into himself, and not because of his teammates' tired gaze burning holes into him. He sounded so small, voice getting smaller with every word he spoke.

"No, I don't know." Scott huffed, a little more gently this time. He removed his hands from his hips, and walked till he could sit next to Martyn. The blonde had been leaning against one of their bookshelves, back looking uncomfortably pressed into the wood. Scott sat beside him now, legs crossed and a softening look on his face.

“About yesterday.” Martyn managed to choke out after a minute, hands tightening around an untouched mug of coffee. “Everytime i close my eyes all I see is you in the water….bleeding because of me.” His eyes stayed firmly focused on the dark liquid in his mug, gaze clouded and full of self hatred; if Scott wasn’t mistaken.

He didn’t think about it, just reached over and pulled Martyn into the best side hug he could muster. The blonde stiffied under him, and the merfolk could tell he was stopping himself from returning the embrace. “It’s not your fault, I told you too.” Scott mumbled, burying his face into Martyn’s shirt best he could.

“I know….” His teammate just gave a low murmur of response, slowly setting the mug of coffee on the floor next to them. Martyn moved to give him a proper hug, and Scott clinged to him like a koala clings to a tree; hoping it conveyed what he was thinking. He thought that Martyn blaming himself was stupid , because he’d asked him to do. Scott had wanted Martyn to kill him, he wasn’t bothered by it at all. He also thought he wanted another kiss, maybe in a different place than the forehead, but that wasn’t a good thing to do right now.

The blonde didn’t pull away, just held onto him tighter, moved the merfolk into his lap and buried his face into Scott’s hair. He didn’t even bat an eye when he felt the blonde’s body wrack with quiet sobs, just tried to get even closer and offer more comfort, trying to communicate that it wasn’t Martyn’s fault, because Scott had a feeling this stupid idiot wouldn’t listen to him if he just said it. He had a feeling he needed to show that it was okay as well.

Martyn didn’t cry for long, and they ended up just sitting there, holding each other until Scott had an idea. It was one of those ideas that was either going to go horribly and ruin everything, or shift something else in their dynamic. He was really hoping it was the latter as he untangled himself from Martyn, slowly getting to his feet. The other just looked at him with undisguised curiosity.

"Come on." Scott sighed, taking Martyn’s hand in his. The blonde blinked as he laced their fingers together, and Scott basically pulled him to his feet fully a moment later. The darkness of the night did its best to hide the blush spreading across both men’s cheeks, all the while Scott led Martyn back to their shared sleeping area. The other grip on his hand was tight, squeezing, and he pretended not to notice.

He let go of Martyn’s hand, albeit a little reluctantly, to move the potted plant that separated their beds. He felt a questioning and curious gaze on the back of his neck, the blonde watching as Scott quickly put their beds together. He wasn’t sure his bed would fit both of them, so he decided it was safer to just pull a Bad Boys and push all their beds together. "Don't be weird about this. It helps with my nightmares." Scott said over his shoulder, turning his head to look at his teammate.

Martyn looked a little dumbfounded, his eyes flicking between Scott and the now double bed. If either of them were in a more awake state of mind, the merfolk was sure one of them would’ve made some sort of inappropriate joke. Not that Scott would’ve minded sharing a bed that way, just not right now when he was tired and Martyn was an emotional wreck.

He flashed Martyn a fond yet toothy smile, and patted the sheets before moving to lay down. Scott felt the blonde join him under the covers a minute later, and drifted close to the warmth almost unknowingly.

They laid awake together for a few minutes, before one of them finally gained some confidence. Martyn, probably thinking Scott was asleep, moved closer. He wrapped his arms around the merfolk slowly, eventually holding the other in his arms fully. Scott held back a content little sigh, fully melting against the blonde. He snuggled even closer, back comfortably pressed against his teammates chest.

The two woke up in a similar position in the morning, holding each other and legs tangled together. They didn’t comment on it, Martyn only muttering thanks, and that it did help his nightmares. Scott said he’d push their beds apart later.

He never quite got around to doing that in the end, but Martyn never complained.

Scott blinked in the dim light, Martyn now leaning over him slightly. Oh . He was being pressed against a wall, their underwater hideout suddenly becoming more cramped and small than it already was.

"I thought you were gonna die back there." The blonde mumbled, resting his forehead on Scotts. His eyes were firmly pressed shut, and his body seemed to relax for the first time all day, shoulders sagging. Stress lines seemed to litter his face as well, and the merfolk hated to be the cause of them. Scott’s gaze softened, pressing his own forehead against Martyns in return. I'm here. I'm alive.

"I didn't die, not yet anyways." The last part was added with a humorless chuckle. Martyn didn't find it very funny, as his face scrunched up even further.

Scott apologized by placing a delicate hand on his cheek, gently thumbing it and Martyn readily leaning into the touch. The blonde's own hands went to rest on Scott’s waist almost unconsciously, and he leaned into it with a quiet sigh.

Scott slowly titled his head to the side hesitantly, only once the blonde had opened his eyes again. It was only after Martyn himself leaned forward did Scott feel confident enough to close the gap between them, pressing their lips together softly. Martyn melted into the kiss rather quickly, which surprised Scott. It had honestly been a spur of the moment decision. He hadn’t expected Martyn to reciprocate at all, or do so readily. Martyn's lips were warm against his own, and Scott quickly realized he found it intoxicating.

One of his hands begins to tug at Martyn's hair, trying to pull his ally even closer. Martyn responded by nicking his bottom lip, and eventually slipping his tongue into Scott’s mouth, deepening the kiss. Scott happily let him, muffling a pleased little noise. Warmth fluttered in his gut, the blonde's tongue mapping out the back of his teeth, as the merfolk finally got what he'd been wanting for weeks now.

Martyn whined softly when Scott pulled away after a second, panting. Scott giggled, his frills puffing out in joy. Martyn just recaptured his lips again, Scott letting out a surprised chirp and melted into the contact even more than he had the first time.

When they parted again it was Scott's turn to whine at the loss of contact, but he understood why they'd separated so soon when he felt kisses peppering the rest of his face. The blonde kissed every part he could reach, Scott’s cheeks, his forehead, his freckles and his nose. Scott smiled, cupping Martyn's face in his hands after the other left one particularly risqué kiss on his upper neck.

They both leaned in for a third and final kiss. It was soft and chaste, and tasted sickly sweet, and everything he wanted and more. Afterwards Scott wrapped his arms around the blonde's neck, letting his weight rest on the other. Martyn just rested his head on top of the merfolks lovingly, kisses occasionally being pressed into soft blue hair.

"I love you." He said, voice slightly mumbled as he pressed his face into Martyn's shirt

"I…" The blonde seemed a little lost for words, a little choked by some emotion that Scott couldn't discern at the moment. "Yeah, me too" Martyn mumbled just as quietly, wrapping his arms around his teammate and holding him tight. Scott made a contend purring sound from the back of his throat, and allowed himself to be lost in the moment.

It was all he needed to say.

It was a nice day out, a calm day, and the Mean Gills had decided it was a good time to spend the day together. It was getting later and later into the game, and quiet days like this were becoming more rare and much more valuable. Martyn wanted Scott all to himself for as many minutes as possible that day, really he did, before the manhunts started up again and people were trying to take his partner’s from him. Time with his beloved wasn’t a thing he was willing to waste anymore, not after the first hunt for Scott and the end of it, one that still made him wake up in tears.

They stood at the side of the house together, Scott having surprised him as he went to feed their chickens. Martyn giggled, the other wrapping his arms around the blonde’s neck pulling him in for a slow kiss. He leaned into it as he always did, the pleasant feeling Scott’s lips now achingly familiar to him.

The blonde soon put the chicken feed into his inventory, sensing that the merfolk wanted to take this just a little further. And oh Martyn was so not opposed, he was the opposite of it really. Scott nipped at his bottom lip with unusually sharp teeth, and Martyn allowed the other's tongue to slip inside his mouth with ease. One of his hands went to rest in Scott’s hair, occasionally pulling it.

They parted for air after about a minute, both of them smiling and panting just a little bit. Scott looked at him lovingly, one hand beginning to play with Martyn’s ponytail idly. The ponytail was a new thing, he had figured now was a good time to try and grow his hair out, because what else did they have to do other than not die? The decision had paid off greatly, Scott saying he liked the look very much.

Martyn hummed, leaning down to place a kiss on Scott’s jawline. The merfolk giggled above him, and he took that as a sign to place even more. The kisses slowly started trailing down further, being placed under Scott’s chin, around his gills, everywhere the blonde could reach. They became gradually more open mouthed as well, until eventually a bruise was being sucked into his partner's neck. Scott, who’s knees buckled more with every kiss until he was practically leaning on Martyn, muffled a sound; one that sounded suspiciously like a whine.

"Martyn!" Soctt laughed, tugging the other away from his neck. "People can see us out here!"

"You don't wanna give them a show?" The blonde muttered against Scott’s throat, feeling the latter’s pulse begin to quicken underneath.

“No, I only want to give you one,” Scott’s response was a low and sultry murmur, one that sent shivers straight down his spine. Martyn let his face be held in gentle hands, meeting the merfolk's now half lidded gaze.

"I think I'd like a ticket to that." He mumbled in response, A hand was teasingly slipped under Scott’s jacket, and the other man let out a slight shiver. His tail began flicking around Martyn’s lower legs, the contact burning like a hot iron.

"You already have one." Scott murmured against his lips, giving Martyn another passionate kiss. The blonde made a muffled noise, moving the two of them back towards the edge of the island. His hand stayed under Scott’s shirt the whole time, roaming and exploring to his heart's content.

They had to part once they reached the water, Martyn obviously needing air to be able to hold his breath. But once they reached the cave the two were quickly on each other, Scott allowing Martyn to slam him against the stone wall. Their lips smashed together once again, the action now having a hungry air to it. Scott slipped his tongue into Martyn’s mouth, causing the other to groan. Hands went to tug at blue hair, which made the merfolk make his own sounds in response. Sharp teeth nicked at the pirates lips, and his knees damn near wobbled underneath him.

He groaned, Scott’s tongue exploring his mouth until he couldn’t breathe, lungs burning and screaming for oxygen. When they pulled away Martyn dipped his head back down, resuming his earlier work on Scott’s throat. He smirked at the low moan that came from the merfolk, and pressed another hickey into his scales.

At some point he’d picked up Scott, carrying him the short distance to the bed they kept in the secret room. He pinned the smaller to it, hands gripping his hair nicely and dagging Martyn’s head back to Scott’s neck. The blonde resumed his work, not needing to be asked twice; especially if it elicited those sounds from Scott.

Hands roamed under his shirt, ghosting over his chest before beginning the journey downwards again. All the while Martyn tried to shove Scott’s own jacket off him, moving that and his undershirt so he could have even more access. More whines came from Scott, his partner's lips now pressed to his collarbone and beginning to bite down gently. Martyn let out a groan of his own, fingers beginning to tug at his waistband.

He moved back up to Scott’s lips again, kissing him into the bed like a starving man. Scott’s hands quickly moved to grab the back of his head and keep him there, the merfolk very content to let Martyn’s tongue do whatever it pleased in his mouth. They pulled away for a final time after that, both taking in large gasps of air.

Scott cupped Martyn’s cheeks in his hands, moving the blonde’s head down until they’re foreheads touched. “We should make out more.” He stated quietly, eyes closed as he leaned into the other’s presence.

“You don’t say?” Martyn huffed, amusement leaking into his tone. Scott just hummed in response.

The pirate would’ve loved to stay and cuddle Scott more than anything, but they still had chores to do around the island. So Martyn stifled a sigh, and slowly moved off of the merfolk. Scott made a disappointed huff, and sat up on the bed.

“Gotta feed the chickens, sorry.” He mumbled. Martyn pressed a kiss to Scott’s hair, before going to exit the underwater base. The blonde heard the tell tale signs of Scott’ swimming after him a moment later, and smiled.

They reached the surface together, Martyn noticing that Scott’s shirt was still not fixed once they were on land. He flushed cherry red, wordlessly moving to fix it and hide his glorious work from the world. Scott just giggled at him, tail slapping happily against the ocean’s surface.

“Hi guys!” Skizz’s voice came from the mainland, and Martyn wanted to die right then. He wanted to be striked down by lightning right now because that was proper embarrassing and absolutely motifying .

“What were you two doing in there, huh?” Tango’s voice joined in with his teammates, just as Martyn managed to cover most of the bruises lining Scott’s fair skin. He really hadn’t realized how many he’d left, which made this interaction all the more horrible for him. Scott however, though probably a little embarrassed, was leaning into the teasing. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He called back with a giggle. Martyn just groaned, resting his head on Scott’s chest, hands still gripping the latter’s shirt. His partner just laughed louder, pressing a fond kiss too the top of his head

Scott woke up one night with a loud yelp, loud enough for most of their neighbors to probably hear. He ripped himself free of Martyn’s grasp, breath coming out in short gasps as he did so. Tears were pricking at the corner of his vision, clouding it and making it harder to see what exactly was in front of him. In the merfolk’s panic he kicked off the covers as well, the feel of them being too overwhelming.

Martyn stirred next to him, obviously quite startled. Scott felt his partner's concerned gaze on him as he sat on his side of their beds, shaking. The blonde moved toward him slowly, and lightly placed a hand on Scott's thigh. When the merfolk didn't flinch away, his grasp became a little firmer.

"You okay?" Martyn mumbled, voice muddled with a strange mix of worry and sleep. Scott tried to open his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt as if someone had locked it in place, and now it wouldn't seem to budge. He held back a frustrated noise, and just shook his head no.

"Wanna talk about it? If you can?" Scott nodded again, and tried to get his mouth to work for the next few minutes. Martyn moved closer as he did so, bumping their shoulders together lightly. His fingers drummed on Scott's knee idly, a motion the merfolk found more comforting than he'd like to admit.

When he finally did make a sound it wasn't coherent, just a strangled sound that was supposed to be a word. Martyn smiled softly at that, and kept quietly waiting.

"….Had a nightmare." Scott muttered. "'Bout the first game."

"Third life?" Martyn clarified softly. Scott nodded.

"I saw the grave again." He continued, trying not to recall the dream too vividly, lest he start crying again. "I, ah, remembered the bunker, his death. Then it wasn't Jimmy it was…..it was you -" Scott cut himself off with a sob, the memory of the dream rattling him greatly. Martyn moved quickly, and before Scott knew it he was dampening the other’s shirt with his own tears.

He remembered how he'd lost his husband the first time, how he had been shattered into fragments with just one message. Scott didn’t even have to search his feelings for long before the grief came rushing back, crashing over him like it used to every day back then. His heart twisted painfully inside him, the moment still crystal clear in his mind.

"That's not again happen again, I promise." Martyn mumbled into his hair, gently running his fingers through it.

"How do you know that?" Scott asked, voice cracked with long ago grief. It could happen again, he could so easily lose his lover once more. It was the thing he worried about everytime Martyn tried to defend him, when Martyn shoved himself in front of a ranid army of yellows and reds to keep him safe. He always worried about having to bury Martyn, like he'd had to bury Jimmy with nothing but dirt and a lone poppy-

"Because this isn't Third Life." The blonde muttered, grip on him tightening. "There's no flower field here, and there's no banner to burn."

That made sense, Scott supposed. It made him feel better, so even if it hadn't made any sense it would still be a reasonable explanation he supposed. At that he sunk into Martyn, his teats gradually beginning to calm down. He still clung to the blonde like a lifeline though, the fear induced by the nightmare never quite leaving.

Martyn just laid them both down gently, Scott still clutched in his arms. He pulled the covers over both of them, and mumbled something about trying to get a few more hours of sleep.

Martyn respawned with a yelp, a little surprised still. He’d be killed by a random TNT minecart drop, and he was a little irritated over it. Stupid Skynet and the stupid minecarts. He was ready to go out there and shoot whoever had done it, that was an hour of his time they’d gotten away with!

“Didn’t expect you to be on top of me today.” A voice came from under him, and Martyn looked down in surprise. Under him was a very flustered looking Scott, the frills on his face pressed back in surprise. It took Martyn’s brain a few seconds to process how he’d ended up in this position, cogs turning at a painstakingly slow pace in his head.

He’d respawned in their hidden bed, naturally. It was night time. Scott was probably trying to sleep the night away. Right. Sure . That made sense, but it didn’t make either of them any less flustered. Currently Martyn was being distracted by how he was basically straddling Scott, and his partner was being pushed slightly into the white bedsheets.

“Well, I don’t think you’re minding it much.” He responded, entirely on impulse. Scott’s eyes seemed to light up with that, and he moved closer. Martyn met the merfolk’s half lidded gaze, nose bumping and breaths mingling together. The air had turned from awkward to heated very fast, and the blonde was soaking it all up like a wet sponge.

"Ya know I always had a thing for pirates…" Scott said, voice dipping lower. He ran a hand along Martyn’s chest area, where the shirt was left slightly unbuttoned, caressing his skin. The blonde shivered at the motion, his own hands running up Scott’s arms slowly.

"And I've always thought merfolk were quite sexy." He huffed in response, leaning downwards. Scott flashed him a toothy grin, going to meet the other in the middle. Their lips connected, and Scott pulled them further down onto the bed.

Martyn muffled a noise, the merfolk’s tongue slipping into his mouth for the millionth time. When Scott had said they should make out more he hadn’t been expecting this, but the pirate was so not going to complain. His fingers twisted in the other's hair, and a hand tugged on the back of Martyn’s head to keep him in place.

He pulled away first, the feeling of fire in his lungs. Scott just looked up at him with a pout, lips puffy and red. Martyn ignored the urge to lean down and ruin them some more, slowly shuffling off the bed.

“People are gonna be suspicious if I take too long respawning.” He muttered a quiet apology, watching as Scott tried to drag him back down. His partner just let out a dramatic sounding sigh. “Fine.”

“We could continue this later tonight?” Martyn offered, and Scott’s eyes lit up immediately. “Oh absolutely~” He murmured, giving the blonde one last peck on the lips. A hand thumbed over the waistband of his pants, and then Scott finally let go of him. Martyn laughed at that, ignoring the warmth fluttering inside him. “Eager aren't we?” He called as he exited the room, not waiting for the merfolk response before diving into the cool sea water.

Time was running out.

Scott stood with Impulse at spawn, discussing. They were the last three left, and they were supposedly going to have a fist fight to the death. The winner would be picked fairly, no foul play or whatever. Martyn stood beside them, oddly silent. Martyn was never silent like that. Scott wanted to reach out a hand to his partner, to hold the blonde’s own one last time. To feel Martyn’s loving embrace one last time, because this wasn’t going to end pretty.

He didn’t want to kill Martyn, and Martyn didn’t want to kill him. Unless the red life got to him, he didn’t think he could. And he didn’t want the bloodlust to get to him. He didn’t want to win again, and just standing here had already brought him far too close to that for comfort. So if it did come down to a fist fight, he would let Impulse kill him, because there was no other way to avoid it.

He didn’t reach out a hand to hold Martyn’s. Maybe because part of him knew what was going to happen, because he knew Martyn as well as a fish knew the ocean it swam in.

Impulse said something, then there was a burning in Scott's back. He screamed, feeling the unmistakable burn of lava on him, feeling the liquid splash painfully onto his tail. Impulse let out a surprised yell, and a bucket clattered to the stone ground under them. Just before the magma could finish him off, a sword sliced through his ribs, just like it had during his first death. His lover was saying something, but the merfolk couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears.

Martyn had killed him again, and stabbed him right in the back. Figuratively and literally. If he turned around, Scott would see a flash of pain on the blonde’s face as he did so. Scott didn’t mind though, didn’t mind dying, because third was a fine enough place to get. And probably a higher place than he deserved anyways.

My own Mean Gill. He thought, allowing the world to fade to black. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Martyn huffed, kicking his legs idly in the air. He was at least a good thousand feet off the ground now, which didn't make him feel too great. He made a mental note not to look down too much, and pondered on how exactly he was going to reach the ground again.

He'd just wanted to see what that weird little geyser did, not be permanently levitated! Now he was worried about going too high up and dying, and he'd only had these powers for like less than a week! Martyn huffed to himself again, trying to spin himself around in midair.

There was a flash of blue and orange nearby, and Martyn whipped his head around. He was met with nothing, with empty air. Like everything else around him. He gave the surrounding area a suspicious glance over, and again there was nothing. The blonde huffed at that, figuring it was just his eyes playing tricks on him or something. If he was gonna float into space he wanted it to be paranoia free, thank you very much.

The flash of color kept happening though, so much so that Martyn became more and more convinced it had to be another player messing with him. He also wished they would help get him down, not play an unwinnable game of peekaboo.

The person playing it also seemed to be getting bored, because the next time an orange flash appeared, there was a hand coming out of it. Martyn let out a small scream at that, and made himself float farther away. There was laughing beside him afterwards, and he once again spun to try and locate where the sound was coming from.

The flashes of light had apparently been portals of some kind, because one was soon open a few feet above him. Sticking out of it was the head of a man, similarly blue and orange hair falling in front of his face as he looked down at Martyn. The blonde blinked, watching the man laugh at his misery. The dude was quite nice looking, he had to admit, his features were slender and seemed to have a sort of elegance to him, and his eyes crinkled nicely when he smiled. His laugh rang through the air, a pleasing sound to listen to, and his hair was longer than it looked; most of his being kept up in two twin buns atop his head.

“Hi!” The stranger smiled down at him when the laughing fit calmed down, Martyn now having floated closer. His eyes were multicolored, one blue and one orange, and the blonde wasn’t even surprised by the color combo anymore. That seemed to be very on brand for this guy.

“Hi!” Martyn parroted, struggling to keep some irritation from his tone. “You mind getting me down now?”

The strange man blinked a couple of times, and for the first time seemed to realize how high up they now were. “Oh! Sorry!” He almost squeaked out the apology, before disappearing into thin air again. Martyn floated there, puzzled for a moment, before he was suddenly on the ground again. He made a noise of surprise, stumbling a bit as body readjusted to not being hundreds of feet in the air. Martyn’s vision spun a bit, and he felt a warm hand keep him steady while it did.

“You okay?” The stranger’s voice rang in his ears again, and when the blonde could see clearly he found that the other was now face to face with him. He nodded, staring back into those multi-colored eyes, the stranger’s breath brushing over his face ever so slightly. He had quite pretty eyes, this man did. Martyn could very easily see himself getting lost in them, especially if they kept meeting like this.

“Good!” At those words the other man was pulling back, another smile dancing on his lips. Martyn ignored how pretty that look was on him, deciding it was better to focus on what the guy was saying instead. “I’m Scott, bye the way!”

“Martyn.” He gave his own name, and committed the others to memory. Sometimes the blonde had trouble remembering names, but he figured this guy was the expectation. You don’t see a pretty dude who can teleport very often. Scott’s gaze flicked over him once, taking in his appearance. “Why were you even floating in the first place?” He asked, head tilted to the side curiously.

“Some stupid geyser sent me up there!” Martyn huffed, scanning the area for his new least favorite thing. “Over here!” He walked towards the damned thing as soon as he caught sight of it, wanting to warn his new acquaintance of what they looked like. He heard Scott follow after him, brown boots crunching against the light layer of snow on the ground.

“That thing!” He spat, glaring down at the small geyser, treacherous puffs of air still billowing from it. Scott stopped beside them, tail brushing against Martyn’s legs unconsciously. The blonde hadn’t even seen the tail till just now, and it only made him more curious about the guy.

“Ah, so that’s what those do!” Scott hummed, leaning forward slightly to get a better look.

“You’ve seen ‘em before?” Martyn’s now curious gaze flicked to the transporter again, and he tried not to stare at the open side of the man’s shirt.

“Yep, but I was always too scared to test them out.” Scott glanced at him, his features becoming playful “But i guess you did that for me, huh?” Martyn snorted at that, moving away from the wretched thing a little bit. Scott followed him.

“Guess I did!” He smiled, watching as the other opened a little portal in the grass next to him.

“Gotta go!” Scott explained with another pretty smile, this one dazzling and lopsided. “See you later?” He asked, and if Martyn deluded himself he could hear a bit of hope in the teleporter's voice.

“Yeah, see you later!” Martyn called, freezing himself in excitement at the thought. Scott laughed at him, before falling into his portal, tail flicking in joy. If Martyn could smile while encased in ice, he would. He wanted the ice to melt quicker, to melt right now , just so he could see Scott as soon as possible.

[oakantony]

hey emanthony I love your hxh fics some much I have a random question that you can totally ignore if you dont feel like answering 😄 I've noticed that killua is usually away in your fics like in your last fic he was on a boarding school and in your other fics he is just mentioned but doesnt have a major role except for the sharpest knife though he was still more like plot device there imo, do you try to avoid writing him because he is arguably the most popular hxh character and you prefer not to deal with the unnecessary fandom drama that writing a fic about him might cause? Which is totally fine if thats the reason, your fics are still amazing with killua involve but I was just curious.

I have MANY thoughts and I'm preemptively sorry for the wall of text that's about to happen. ily, though, here's the TLDR: it's honestly mostly logistical issues that have caused me to avoid inserting Killua into stories.

tbh if I didn't want fandom drama I wouldn't have written that opening for The Youngest Child. That shit was risky af. I still marvel that I haven't gotten e-flayed over it and sometimes I consider removing the story entirely because I have anxieties. (Obviously Chrollo and Kalluto's tryst at the beginning is not meant to be some hot aspirational kink-thing [you do you if you're into that]--the intention has always been to show how far Chrollo had fallen, socially, and how Kalluto has been placed in a dangerous position his entire life without parental figures to care for his well-being [enter: Gon, our knight in sun-shining armor.]) But we're not here to talk about that, so I'll stop lmao.

I've gotten a few questions about Killua throughout the years, ranging from people wondering if I hate him (I love him; I have him as a tattoo) or if I'm just not confident writing him (I'm not confident writing anything, ever), and really it's mostly just logistical. I actually would love to do a Killua-centric story one day, but I haven't had time (though I'm constantly trying to figure out how to write more and faster so I can write more fic. I legit have a pretty fleshed out story in my mind featuring Killua Zoldyck x Shouto Todoroki, which sounds WILD, and it is wild, but I also think I could make it work).

When I say logistical, it's like... We can use The Youngest Child as an example. Obviously Killua being absent is one of the main plot points, but if we pretend instead that his parents decided Kalluto was a better heir, the story doesn't change much... Except that I now have another big personality to contend with. Killua is, without exception, a main character. If he's there, he's going to be there, you know? He'd have to have a whole subplot of his own (which I'll touch on more in a second). The Youngest Child would likely be double in length. Maybe even triple, because I'd have to explain him and Gon's relationship from the onset, too. That would take my idea for a novella-length story and turn it into a full on novel. Which is fine, but as previously mentioned... Time. I can either knock out a story with Kalluto, Gon, the Troupe, Illumi, Hisoka, and the Zoldycks (that's already a wild list to write concisely) in ~20k words, or I can add Killua and watch it bloat up to like, 50k at the least.

There's also an element to writing Killua that I'm not sure a lot of people realize is actually a lengthy subject to cover, and that's his responsibility to his family. Even as a side character, there's so much to address. His story ends (both in the manga and in the anime) with him rescuing his sister, running away, and presumably keeping her safe from Zoldyck influence. But what about the other kids? Maybe we can write off Illumi; he's fully grown, and abused Killua deeply enough that Killua could dismiss him as a victim of their upbringing. But what about Milluki, who's openly derided and dismissed by their parents? What about Kalluto, a small costumed doll handed over to a genocidal gang? Is Kalluto not worthy of saving? We know Kalluto loves Killua; we never see Killua think of Kalluto at all. Does that mean Killua doesn't love his other brothers? Does that mean he doesn't think they suffer? Obviously Alluka needed rescued, that's not in question. But any canon-compliant fic that includes Killua has to answer this question (and many of them do not, and I don't blame them): does he care about his family at all?

(The answer, imho, is yes, but Killua is so afraid of his past and his parents and his role as heir that it paralyzes him similar to the ways we saw him paralyzed trying to fight for Gon in the Chimera Arc.)

That's why it's hard to include him in fics. That's honestly probably why Togashi hasn't included him in the manga in 11 years. There're so many loose ends. It's a nightmare to tie up neatly so that other characters and their stories can shine. I mentioned it before, but he's got some of the biggest main character energy of any fictional character ever made (this is a compliment). His capacity for love, violence, humor, poise, intelligence... He's really remarkable. He's going to outshine anyone if he gets involved. Illumi's whole arc in The Longest Job was learning some of the things that Killua's been capable of his whole life. If Killua was there, Illumi probably would have seen even more pathetic than he already was. Which maybe isn't a bad thing, lol.

Anyway. I should write a Killua fic one day. Lemme just finish...uh...man, idek. I have like 6 WIPs at the moment. I'm gonna go lay down.

[thepitofjob]

Job 5: 17-27. "The Flashing Sword."

We conclude the initial response of Eliphaz, "the golden one" to Job's resistance to being chaste until his time in the Shule has concluded.

The tract says there are Six Calamities, a final examination, and then we are free to wield our sexualities as wisdom deems fit. This process is linear to the Seven Days. Within the Seven Days, which are curricula that teach proper human evolution, are "curses" or behaviors we must overcome.

Sometimes the overcoming is without effort, others are quite challenging and require hard times. The pretense within the religion is life will improve once we conquer temptation and excel well past our urges into a life cultivated by practices that lead to Shabbos, "effortless happiness." Anyone who has suffered from an addiction, a divorce, raising a special needs child, job loss, or severe trauma will appreciate happiness that does not come at a price.

We can discuss the causes of these things in the Shule, but some will still need to learn this on their own. Still if one is willing to learn God promises it is worth every lesson:

17 “Blessed is the one whom God corrects;     so do not despise the discipline of the Almighty.[a] 18 For he wounds, but he also binds up;     he injures, but his hands also heal. 19 From six calamities he will rescue you;     in seven no harm will touch you. 20 In famine he will deliver you from death,     and in battle from the stroke of the sword. 21 You will be protected from the lash of the tongue,     and need not fear when destruction comes. 22 You will laugh at destruction and famine,     and need not fear the wild animals. 23 For you will have a covenant with the stones of the field,     and the wild animals will be at peace with you. 24 You will know that your tent is secure;     you will take stock of your property and find nothing missing. 25 You will know that your children will be many,     and your descendants like the grass of the earth. 26 You will come to the grave in full vigor,     like sheaves gathered in season.

27 “We have examined this, and it is true.     So hear it and apply it to yourself.”

While the words above are sufficient on their own, we have been instructed to find the secret meaning from within the verses of the Tanakh.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 17-18: He wounds, he binds up. Wounds are signs of strife. Strife is forbidden. It is forbidden to cause another person to wound. If someone is wounded, his friends must exact a vengeance. This is why I insist on the world joining forces to exterminate Donald Trump, the Republican Party and the Mormons for what they did on October 7. The Torah commands us to repsond with lethal force when our friends are wounded. The world must learn- if you harm a Jew, you die.

From Ha'azinu:

39 “See now that I myself am he!     There is no god besides me. I put to death and I bring to life,     I have wounded and I will heal,     and no one can deliver out of my hand. 40 I lift my hand to heaven and solemnly swear:     As surely as I live forever, 41 when I sharpen my flashing sword     and my hand grasps it in judgment, I will take vengeance on my adversaries     and repay those who hate me. 42 I will make my arrows drunk with blood,     while my sword devours flesh: the blood of the slain and the captives,     the heads of the enemy leaders.” 43 Rejoice, you nations, with his people,[e][f]     for he will avenge the blood of his servants; he will take vengeance on his enemies     and make atonement for his land and people.

The Number is 7835, זחגה‎‎, zahga, "perspiration." To experience dread is the realization one was mistaken about one's past reactions to being wounded. Sometimes, Dolores, an accident is a woman's best friend.

v. 19-20: From the sword he will rescue you. No, He will not, but under the skin, one will not live or die as an ignoramus. The Number is 10974, קטז‎‎ד‎, katzad, "footfalls."

Torah Theory is based on the premise we can echo the thoughts of God in our minds. God has said we are like Him, and He is like us. He is non-violent, but He loses His temper when people are mean, He is the creator but when things do not work, He is also a destroyer. The secret to unity with God is found within His duality. When is God's nectar, when is His venom? To understand this is the greatest of wisdoms found in the Torah.

v. 21-22: You will be protected, you need not fear the wild animals. Jews are terrified of being vulnerable and fear the wild animals all of the time. What can the Book of Job say to make us feel more secure? The Number is 9546, טהדו‎, tahdo, "unity between two cells, unite, consolidate, join."

There are two kinds of human natures, the one we are born with and the one that is self-created. Day Six, called the Sixth Catasrophe by Job says we must learn to share nature with the animals, domesticating some, avoiding others. This is the basis for Kosher ettiquette. There are rules called Mishpatim in the Torah that specify how mankind is to master certain kinds of animal traits and lean away from others altogether. Each teaches how to add or negate a specific tendenciy to the presentation of mankind:

24 And God said, “Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: the livestock, the creatures that move along the ground, and the wild animals, each according to its kind.” And it was so. 25 God made the wild animals according to their kinds, the livestock according to their kinds, and all the creatures that move along the ground according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good.

26 Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals,[a] and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”

v. 23-24. For you will have a covenant. You will find nothing missing. The Torah is specific about human rights, education, rule of law, government, all the elements needed for a high quality of human and animal life all around the world. We must institute it and eradicate anyone who raises their hand against us.

The Number is 17092, יזאֶפֶסטב‎ ‎, jezephestev "His embezzlement." We must "steal" the misery from this planet it is our obligation to the Holy One of Israel. In order for this to happen, for it to work, we must know and follow the entire Tanakh. Our ancestors were wise and would not be glad to see we have decided to learn certain lessons again. We must leave a portion behind that explains the error of our ways and how we made them straight again.

v. 25-26: You will come to the grave in full vigor. The Torah says the moment a boy becomes hairy and horny, his life is over. In the Book of Job, it says there is a time for everything, all of them must be anticipated properly, or a death in ignominy will result.

The Number is 12441, יבד‎דא‎, yabadda, "you will perish, but it will work."

ya= yes, God

bad= the canvas, the cloth

da= brings understanding

The early young boy priesthood feels like it is torture but it is a must. I spent every single Saturday and every Sunday in church and there was a weekly meeting as well for two years from the time I was 11 until I was 13. I resort to what I was taught there every single day. I was raised a Lutheran, I was taught there is right and wrong, Grace and wrath, that war is wrong, public hatred of anybody is wrong, and while mistakes happen, they should be for the right reasons.

I see a deviant world all around me, quite contrary to what I was taught God prescribed for us. I read and study the Torah and Tanakh, the very same I was taught many years ago and the only thing that has changed is mankind is more disobedient to God than ever. Our governments are filled with fools and idiots, our polities are fire ant mounds waiting to prey on the next ant they see.

We have a job of immense importance ahead of us, we will always have to do this job. It can obviously only be done by us. Every Jewish person new and old must embrace this duty.

v. 27: “We have examined this, and it is true. So hear it and apply it to yourself.”

The Number is 4897, זדחט‎ ‎ ‎, "pressed and pushed."

We have discussed this, how the pressing of the grape and the olive, AKA faith and government, leave behind a residue. Persons and goverments that shun enlightenment, who are ignorant, unethical and corrupt create too much work for the rest of us. They are dross, they must be dismissed without a care in the world. The only response we have is called pushing which encourages closer intimacy with the truth of why God made human existence according to the model He gave us:

"An independent thinker is someone who doesn't take orders from an earthly superior, or accepts dogmas from a religion, but is someone who is dedicated to Truth, whatever that might turn out to be. The Bible identifies three kinds of those sovereigns: prophets, high-priests and kings, and these three sovereign offices were marked by anointing.

Any sovereign thinker always fits at least one of those three categories, and in Biblical terms is always an "Anointed", regardless of whether one actually partakes in the physical ritual involving physical oil. Since the Bible very often mentions prophets, high-priests and kings, it also very often mentions the title Anointed. The Hebrew word for Anointed is משיח (mashiah), from the verb משח (mashah), to anoint.

The Greek word for Anointed is χριστος (christos), from the verb χριω (chrio), to anoint. So no, the familiar words Christ and Messiah are not reserved for Jesus but describe anybody Sovereign: any prophet, high priest and king, in the past, present and future."

To free every mind on the planet and prepare it for superiority is the only way to pass the examination and achieve the goals of the Mashiach. Everything we discuss in the Book of Job is preparation for this final test.

[is-the-parrot-video-cute]

I don't know much about parrots as pets! I know they're a controversial topic/some people think they're not fit to be pets, I was wondering if you could explain the pros/cons of parrot keeping?

Sure!

I think parrots make wonderful pets because they are so intelligent and social, they can be very affectionate and will form a very strong bond with their owner, however parrots are not an ideal pet for everyone.

Parrots are loud, messy, and essentially like having a toddler. They need a lot of attention, exercise, play time, a proper diet, and constant supervision. If these requirements can't be met it can lead to mental illness in the bird such as anxiety and depression, which will lead to behavioural problems like self harm. If you are not in a position to provide for your bird then a parrot is not a good pet option for you.

A few other things I would like to mention:

-Not all parrot species can be tamed, and you must remember that parrots are not like cats and dogs.

-If you want a parrot the best option would be to get a rescue bird, or to buy from a responsible and reputable breeder. Don't buy from pet stores, and especially don't buy wild caught birds. Best to pick a species that is native to your country also.

-Parrots cannot be neutered so there is the possibility of your bird being hormonal during breeding seasons. They may become broody or aggressive with seemingly random triggers. It is best to identify the trigger and discourage the behaviour unless you want to breed them.

-Parrots can and will bite. It is important to remember with any animal that they are autonomous and can think for themselves, though cats and dogs can be a lot more docile than parrots. A parrot will not bite for no reason though. Biting usually as a response to something that is annoying them, if they are scared, of if they are trying to tell you something and you are not listening.

-Parrots can be very protective of their owners. Sometimes they might attack other people who they view as "competing" for the attention of the owner, and so you should be careful if you don't know how the bird will react to a new person. This goes doubly so if the individual is of the same gender as the bird, and/or the bird views the owner as a mate.

-Parrots should not have their wings clipped if it can be avoided. It is fine to clip wings for medical reasons, but if you simply can't deal with a bird flying around your house/you can't train your bird to come when called you should not have a bird.

[yanderenightmare]

You made me fall in love with fear, it's all just fascinating. The way you write is an aesthetic in itself! It's so beautiful and thought-provoking. If your requests are open, I would love to see your volume one Yanderes with a clumsy s/o. Like, she is accident prone, always injuring herself, etc. I wonder how they would react with such fragility? Thanks! Have a wonderful day! :D

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dumbification, abuse, manipulation, ableism, anxiety, death, murder, drugs, drugging, kidnapping

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He knew fragile things existed in the world.

And he knows that the world was designed to chew such powerless things up then spit them out again.

And he knows he isn’t one of those frail things.

As a child he thought it was fair for the strong to conquer the weak.

And hell… he still thinks it’s fair.

Her brittle nature provides him with such a great excuse too, such a perfect explanation for him to justify taking her.

To justify keeping her in soft frilly clothes, locked inside a room devoid of walls where they have been replaced by cushions and pillows and blankets and furs and stuffed-animals and all things soft, soft, soft against the bruises and scrapes on her knees and ankles and elbows and chin. Keeping her all cozy and clumsy where she’s unable to keep her footing on the plushie asylum floor, reduced to vertigo, especially with that fluffy pink ankle-cuff chaining her down.

Sometimes she’ll hide when hearing Bakugo’s footsteps coming thundering from behind her door. She’ll wrap herself up in all those soft things she’s grown to hate, pray under the covers only to hear the cracking predatory humor of Bakugo’s laugh once he spots where the chain trails to.

He'll drag her out of hiding like a puppy on a leash, all for him to punish, all with that splitting frenzied grin on his face, the one that makes her head dizzy on the sight of seeing how sharp those canines of his are, knowing how they’re going to find her neck as though she’s some chew-toy.

He’ll always make it sound as though that’s what she wanted, that punishment is what her weakness begged him for, as though weakness is synonymous with wanting pain or needing pain.

He’ll sleep there with her most of the time, in the room he’s made so painstakingly clear was her home. She’s coming more and more gradually to the understanding that nothing in reality is hers anymore. Not the room, not the clothes, not her body.

She’s too weak to be allowed to be in charge of anything, better for her to just find comfort in knowing how she has no responsibilities, better for her to just be grateful Bakugo wanted her as his pet rather than his prey. Better for her to listen and believe him when he tells her that she’s safe, instead of thinking of all those crippling reasons as to why she is far from being safe.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Clumsy prey is a sport Shoto always believed to be too mediocre and boring, given how easily the dexterity of the predator can win the chase.

He didn't think he could achieve stimulation without a challenge.

But, he’s now finding that chasing someone who’s barely able to keep her own footing is a game he rather enjoys quite salaciously. Understanding now that it’s less about the quest, less about actually catching his prize, and more about the experience, those funny little moments leading up to it.

The amount of hungry pleasure he derives from seeing her stagger away from him is bottomless.

He doesn’t know why, but it’s the outmost endearing and lovable and precious and cute thing he can think of.

Seeing her stumble and fall, all in the product of mixing her clumsiness with her wild manic fear. Watching those beautiful swivel-eyes spiral as she looks up at him through the thick darkness of the poorly lit hallways, hearing nothing but Shoto’s inhumanly sadistic snickering and her own heavy panting as she tries desperately to drag herself further away. Yet, knowing and awaiting his massive biting cold hand to grip around her ankle to drag her across the marble-floor back into her dungeon, back into the soft bed, so that they can do everything again.

Most chases end up with her hurting herself and eventually aiding her own capture.

She’ll always wake up with bruises she has no recollection of when or how she got, yet looking at them she can tell that they’re way too mellow to be something given to her by Shoto.

It's funny, where he hurts her, he actually ends up saving her more times than most. Where her sporadic escape has almost led her to go tumbling down the stairwell, where were it not for Shoto catching her in her fall, things could have gotten really ugly.

He wouldn’t want her to actually break her legs after all, no matter how many times he might tease and threaten her with the thought. Broken legs would mean no more games, and Shoto doesn’t want that to end any time soon.

But, there are softer aspects to her silliness too.

She can be just as dopey and awkward with her rambling thoughts as him, where her inelegance with her mobility seeps into her skillfulness with words too.

If she’s proper blissed-out she can talk up storms of complete and utter nonsense, rambling on about her dreams and what animal the shape of Shoto’s scars resemble and how pretty his eyes are and how much her body is tingling in the aftershocks of what fun Shoto exercised on her skin.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Naivety really is bliss, isn’t it?

Not just for herself, but for him too.

To watch her, in all her clumsy glory, fall on her face, time and time again, never learning her lesson.

That’s the definition of insanity, you know?

Doing the same thing over and over again expecting things to go differently.

But, no matter how many times she tries to escape, no matter how many times she runs, or screams or cries or swears she hates him until her lungs burn, she’ll always end up right where she started off, right where she belongs, right in his arms, under his thumb, under him.

He doesn’t even have to put any effort in to prevent it.

He just needs to sit back and enjoy the show as she fails so spectacularly all by her very own, then pick her up off the floor and coo and hush and shush and tsk at her to calm down or else she might end up hurting herself all over again.

How has such fickle featherbrained maladroit messes managed to survive? How hasn’t evolution wiped them from existence yet?

Perhaps because other more evolved creatures found them to be such a perfect source for blowing off steam. Entertainment is important after all. Small little escapes through the day where you can forget what nasty troubles you’ll eventually have to deal with and simply just play with your silly little pet.

He saves the world every now and again, the world can allow him this much, to have his very own swivel-eyed toy. He deserves it. 

Besides, she needs him. If he hadn’t stepped in and helped her, saved her from her own mistakes, evolution would have done its job and she’d be dead already.

But, he doesn’t expect her bumbling brainless little head to understand that, she’d just get a headache from thinking about it too hard.

No, better for her to focus on other things… like how to entertain him before he decides to show her just how small a foolish little thing she is.

He’ll often play with her, make her turn all shades of hopeless because she’s too forgetful and too soft-natured to comprehend what’s happened.

He’ll give her things, small little trinkets as presents for her good behavior, mostly accessories such as hair-bows, necklaces, anything he can easily slip off her without her noticing, then pretend to be disappointed, scolding her as though she’s some child who’s unable to take care of her things, punish her and kiss her on that scared foolish little face as she splutters out her apologies, having not a single clue she’s right where he wants her, completely clueless to the fact that she’s perfect in every which way imaginable.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

It feels so unexplainably good to hold something infinitely helpless and vulnerable and dainty in his destructive hands without it shattering like glass.

It feels so insurmountably meaningful and purposeful and godsend to save someone for once, even if it’s from themselves.

It’s nice being in the presence of true chaos, the true absence of order, a great real heap of a total clusterfuck. It makes him believe that even life requires a little death to scare them into safety, that even light requires darkness, that even love needs darkness, that even love desires darkness.

He used to think small things such as her were made up of cotton and all things soft like dandelion-fluff, but now he knows they’re made of breakable brittle things such as autumn-leaves, in desperate need of being wrapped up, suffocated, drowned in safety. He’s the one who needs to be soft like cotton, he’s the one who needs to be gentle and soft so she not crumble like the sweet pastry she is.

It’s cute. She’s cute. Unbelievably so too sometimes.

He feels like half the time he spends with her he’s teaching her how to walk properly, catching her when she falls or helping her up from the ground, dusting her off, wiping tears away from her face, patching up small scrapes and gashes, kissing her forehead, letting her know how it’s all okay, making sure she knows she’s no such thing as a burden, though not letting her in on the fact that he loves seeing her fail only for him to save the day.

He’ll take her outside more because of her ditzy nature, knowing how she’s far too dopey to ever manage an escape without pulling out a near miss unintentional suicide attempt, where which after a number of rescues from him she forgets why she was even running in the first place, now too caught up with being close to him instead, with feeling safe, feeling protected.

He’ll save her from wandering off into traffic, protect her when she says the wrong idiotic thing to the wrong batch of people, fight for her when her cuteness lures and pulls and ensnares other predators.

It’s symbiosis, if he thinks about it, if he tries justifying it.

She needs him and he needs to feel needed. She needs to be taken care of, he wants to take care of her, she needs protection from herself, he wants her dependence, he wants the safety of knowing how she cannot survive without him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

It’s hilarious.

She’ll break her own legs for him at this rate.

He wonders how many braincells could possibly be left in that thick skull of hers, with how much she trips and walks into walls and rolls out of bed, bumping her head on every possible thing, he can’t count how many times she’s head-butted him, whether it’s been on purpose or not. 

He wonders if she might just be blind.

If maybe she needs glasses…

Well… that’s too bad if that’s the case, no chance he’s giving up watching her agonize over every misstep that leads to her falling on the floor by his feet, her head tipping to look up at him with that ridiculous expression, that dumbfounded adorable confusion.

It probably doesn’t help that he keeps the room so dark.

It probably doesn’t help that he leaves things on the floor in hopes of her foot catching on them.

But, can you blame him for wanting to see her all cute and flushed? Watching her frustrate over herself, too caught up in being mad with her own inadequacy to bother being mad at him. So preciously hopeless as she tries to pick herself up off the floor, her hair always in a mess and bruises and scrapes littering her otherwise soft skin.

Pretty and stupid isn’t usually the type he fawns over, in fact: pretty and stupid is usually the type that disgust him, pretty stupid bitches that never spare him a second glance, pretty stupid bitches that are only worth one fuck before he dusts them.

But pretty stupid and sweet? 

That’s the perfect cocktail.

So stupid and sweet she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. So stupid and sweet that she’s surprised he gave her a second glance.

He wonders if he as well would be this careless and reckless if he hadn’t been gifted with that destructive quirk of his.

He wonders if she had been born with a heart made less up of honeycombs and more daggers like his, if she would also second-guess touching things as opposed to making it her mission to bump into every single thing in her path.

If she would be less trusting and more cynical like him.

He’s grateful she wasn’t.

He’s grateful that the only type of death she’ll ever get the chance to taste is him, that as far as she’s concerned… he is death.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Most of the time it’s cute.

Most of the time he loves watching her fall prey to her own absentmindedness. Watch her trip on nothing but her own poor footing.

After all, he does love catching her before she hits the ground. He loves being her hero, seeing that shocked expression on her face, that cute blush of embarrassment as he smirks down upon her jumpy skittish person.

Then of course there’s the less salvageable moments, yet still no less cute, where she’ll drop dinner plates or her glass or the wine bottle or the remote-controller, where she’ll get so frustrated with herself and her stubby fingers, her feet always needing bandaging where she always manages to step in her own mess of glass-shards.

Those times where she fucks up and fears Keigo’s temperance so much she’ll turn into a timid little ball of apologies and gratitude, where she’ll fear that any more screw ups will cost her his understanding attitude and awake something livid inside him.

She’ll be so sweet with fear as opposed to when she’ll jerk away from his touch.

So yeah, most of the time it’s cute, most of the time it’s beneficial.

But that habit she has of not thinking before speaking or acting gets her into a whole lot of trouble too.

Especially when she pushes him away or calls him something unsavory. When she acts like a brat, forgetting who’s in charge.

Keigo feels the need to teach her a thing or two about being a bit more careful and a little less brainless. 

He’ll pose her in the middle of the living room, with only red lace adorning her tiny frame, looking cold but not so much to be the reason to her shivers, he knows better as he can smell the fear laced in the air.

On top of her head he’ll put a perfect plump red apple and tell her to stand as still and picture-perfect as possible.

She’s pretty good at it too, at being still and quiet and pretty, speaking only when spoken to, at least until he starts sending knife-sharp feathers in her directions, creating her silhouette in the wall as the feathers fly just short of nicking her skin, where if she moves only a slight mere inch, the crimson edges will slice open her skin.

And if the apple should fall, well… if she can be sweet and apologize and show him just how sorry she is, he’ll think about making the punishment enjoyable.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Hitoshi can’t manifest how much awe he has for that ditzy nature of hers.

So forgetful, so clueless, so cute.

She’s like a little girl, a child, a baby in a cradle, yet with the ability to get lost, wandering off at every slight distraction.

He’s tempted to put a bell around her neck if only to be alerted off when her curiosity has taken her out of his eyesight. She would look adorable with a little golden jingle bell around her throat, hanging on a velvet choker.

But then again… he wouldn’t have the joy of finding her all tousled and knotted up in her newest little fuck up.

Little Miss Forgetful forgetting all her lessons, all those rules Hitoshi’s taught her, forgetting her manners, forgetting her chores, forgetting how to be his good little girl or else suffer the consequences of being punished and becoming Master’s little puppet on strings.

Little Miss Messy making a total clutter in the kitchen when trying her best to get her hand on a knife, but only managing to bump into everything, shards of glass painting the crime scene with the culprit displayed and trapped all perfectly in the middle of her own mess, all for Hitoshi to come and catch red-handed.

Little Miss Bump with new bruises and scratches as she’s fallen yet again on the floor in the midst of her newest escape attempt.

He could go on all day about his sweet little Miss Silly, his little Miss Scatterbrain, his little Miss Stupid, who’s always getting into trouble, constantly needing Hitoshi to come to her rescue.

But, when he’s not home, he can get anxious.

Scared that she might actually hurt herself just a bit too much and he’ll arrive just a bit too late.

It should take a lifetime to die, yet she’s on the verge of death nearly every day, it only takes an instant and it’s over.

He’ll check in on her at home more times than he probably should throughout the day, praying before he unlocks the door and steps inside the quiet stillness of their house, picturing her having cracked her skull open when slipping or accidently managing to hang herself off of something or drowning in the tub after having fallen asleep, there’s no end to what horrors he can picture.

His anxiety only satiated when finding her still asleep on the bed, soft untroubled snores hanging off the walls. 

It makes sense with how much melatonin he slipped in her drink before she dozed off…

Just a little safety measure.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

It manages to surprise him each and every time… just how much danger such a little thing is able to wrap herself up in.

It’s as though she chases the trouble, as though she wants the punishment that follows.

He doubts she ever really thinks anything thoroughly through.

She’s reckless, ruthless in her disregard for safety. Hare-brained and untrustworthy and in desperate need of his protection and his correction, or else she might just accidentally kill herself one day or worse… end up in the wrong set of hands.

It’s come to the point where he’s stopped gifting her with jewelry, because he gets so hysterically uneasy whenever she’s gotten her hands on anything sharp.

Before he’d get angry when she threatened him, wrathful, raging because she doesn’t listen, her foolish little brain unable to follow the simplest of directions. 

Now though, he gets scared because she’s unable to understand what’s best for her, because the only thing she'll ever manage to hurt with those sharp trinkets is herself.

And if she hurts herself, if she risks getting bacteria in her bloodstream, infections in her wounds, scarring and marring that beautiful body, he’ll have no choice, he’ll see no other option but to make sure she can never manage such a thing ever again.

He often humors the idea of simply tying her to the bed and feeding her with a silver spoon, only liquids so she not choke when she forgets how to chew properly.

He’ll act as though she’s a nuisance, but it will be a lie most of the time, while actually finding an inane amount of reassurance and relief in her whimsy, in her gracelessness. Where yes, she is a danger, but she’s far from deadly.

And besides, it’s nice getting a little break from all formalities, someone he can finally be a little rough around the edges with, someone he can let himself enjoy soft pleasures with, someone he can smile or even laugh with when the occasion calls for it. 

Sometimes he’ll place her in high-heels, only to watch her stumble around awkwardly like a little deer skating on ice.

She’s so determined too, determined to prove she isn’t a klutz, how she too can be elegant enough for a dance fit for the ballroom.

He’ll humor that fantasy, but she’ll always throw her heels off in favor of standing on top of his surgically white sneakers and letting herself get floated and swayed with how swiftly and precisely Kai has the established proper poise to enact.

He’ll smile then, when those flirty bubbling giggles erupt from her as she holds onto him, telling how him wonderful flying feels like.

TIP-JAR

[dumb-hat]

Prompt #6: “Onerous” - FFXIV Write 2022

"Look, I'd probably make a shitty husband, but I take my husbandry seriously," Evander said to himself, mostly to get it out of his system. It was a stupid joke that had popped into his head months ago, and he just knew it would one day find its way out of his mouth when actual people were around if he didn't get it out now.

But... it was true, after a fashion. There were a lot of things that Evander slacked on, but providing for the animals in his care wasn't one of them. By his reckoning, once you took a creature out of the wild and brought it into your home, you owed it a good life. After all, if not for you, it'd be doing whatever the hell it wanted, whenever the hell it wanted. Sure, it meant that said creature no longer had to worry about predators, but that wasn't where your responsibility ended.

This was... perhaps a gray area. See, when he'd left his apartment, yesterday evening, he had one crab: a blue smallshell with a busted pincer that he rescued from a jail he was holed up in a couple years ago. Upon his return, he had two crabs, as there was now a curious red crab skittering around his apartment, clacking its claws as it circled St. Barnabas, the aforementioned smallshell. The two seemed to be friends, which was a bizarre turn, as St. Barnabas, at best, seemed to tolerate anyone else. Evander had to wonder how much responsibility he had in this situation.

What kind of relationship does one have with their pets' roommates?

Was this like, a landlord/renter situation? Or was this more like a second pet/first pet once removed kind of thing?

"Okay, well, whoever the hell you are, and however the hell you got here, your name is Klaus until you tell me otherwise. And, uh... No subleasing, okay? Well, no more subleasing, I guess."

St. Barnabas and Klaus clacked in unison, and Evander hoped that was a good thing.

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[lady-of-lyon]

So, I made one post a while back about how awesomely feminist the show Wild Kratts was, with how its two main female characters were women of color in engineering and deserving roles of power, female villains who weren’t motivated by spite or quest for youth, etc, but today I wanted to talk about something slightly different, that I’ve wanted to cover for a while now, because I also think it’s very good - and that’s how the show portrays masculinity, in a way that’s really positive!

First, we have our two main characters, Chris and Martin Kratt. Keep in mind these two are basically self-inserts - and there are plenty of creators, especially males, who have used self-insert characters in really scummy ways - all I have to say is Powerpuff Girls reboot and you know exactly what I’m talking about. Even if they weren’t literal self-inserts, male characters, superheroes especially, oftentimes serve the male power fantasy, being just the strong, stoic, all-powerful person so many boys are told they’re supposed to be. I could get into a whole discussion about how the male power fantasy is present even when males are not (ever look through a fashion magazine and wonder why there are so few men? Sure, part of it is that the industry thrives off exploiting women’s insecurities, and men aren’t as concerned for their appearance, but another part of it is so that the guy, looking through it, can feel like he has no competition for these women - there’s a reason so many comedians have jokes about fashion magazines being their sexual awakening as kids. It’s really scummy) but that’s not what this is about. So, the bros had every opportunity to do just that - make themselves these traditional heroes who aren’t actually really good role models, like batman or what have you. It’s certainly not uncommon for celebrity cartoons to do stuff like that. But Martin and Chris chose a different approach. They’re pretty strong standouts for positive masculinity. They’re openly affectionate - both with eachother as brothers, and with their friends. They cry, sometimes over little things - most of the time when big superheroes cry, it’s ‘cause they lost the girl they loved or their mentor or something like that, only in the big, most agonizing moments do they shed a tear. But here, Chris or Martin will cry just because they’ve had a bad day, or because they’re overwhelmed and overjoyed that someone named a mantis after them! In a lot of shows or movies when a guy cries over something little, it’s usually played for laughs, or to emasculate him, but here it’s casual without being unreasonable or overdone. The brothers cry just ad much, maybe even more (haven’t gone back and counted or anything) as the girls do. Not to mention, it’s a very nice depiction of a loving, healthy sibling relationship. As the youngest sibling myself, it’s refreshing to see a pair who don’t abuse eachother with noogies or cruel and snarky remarks. When they do fight, it’s never a screaming match, and also because they had a conflict of interest or disagreed over a fact, not because, say, one of them stole the other’s shirt or is neglecting the other’s feelings. Kids, being very impressionable, get exposed to a lot of abusive sibling relationships played as normal in media, and start thinking this is how siblings are and should act. For instance, my sister (who is now my best friend and has gotten over all these bad habits over time) when she was younger watched a lot of Kim Possible, a show that is great, but has a bad family dynamic with Kim and her little siblings. The “tweebs” as she calls them are always irresponsible, destructive, and making Kim annoyed to no end. My older brother was one of the most polite, reserved, kind little kids, but she still treated him like he was a brat and a nuisance, because that’s what shows like Kim Possible taught her little brothers were. Additionally, I was always treated like a spoiled crybaby who just wanted attention and got away with everything - I was not any of those things, ever, but that’s what shows teach you little sisters are. Sure, Wild Kratts has a smidge of that, with Chris seemingly being the stereotype of the know-it-all little sibling, but instead of being constantly looked town upon for being too “perfect” like with Hailey Long in American Dragon, Martin often praises his brother for his abilities. Sure, Martin gets annoyed when Chris tries to correct him on things, like in the episode Wolf Hawks, but everyone else does too, so it feels more like a take-down of mansplaining than a sibling spat.

I talked too in the feminist post about how refreshing it is that Chris and Martin more or less willingly put themselves under the authority of Koki and Aviva, two women of color. I don’t think it’s possible to say any one character is the “leader,” they all work as a evenly balanced team, but it’s safe to say that Koki and Aviva make the more responsible decisions. The bros try to get out of their calls a few times, but the show plays it more like they’re being irresponsible, and less like they’re renegade cool dudes who don’t take nothing from nobody, especially not two girls. They are pretty much always punished via karma for their reckless choices, most especially in To Touch a Hummingbird, where their arrogant attitudes blow up in their faces rather spectacularly. We also never see the narrative most present in sitcoms, where the male leads mess up and go out of their way to cover it up and ultimately gets away with it - after all, you have to root for them, right, because sure they messed up and had no consequences, but aren’t they just so lovable? No, here Martin and Chris always have to fix their wrongdoing, and it’s always deserved when they get comeuppance. Another aspect of the show I like is that, many times, when the bros get captured or are in peril, they are saved by the women - and most refreshing of all, there’s never a moment of “wink wink nudge nudge wow I can’t believe I had to be rescued by a GIRL” or even “wow you saved me you’re pretty good honey guess I shouldn’t have underestimated you, you go girl!” No, when the girls save them, it’s just - you know, relief? Because they were saved? It’s never a scenario played as an exception, or any more dire than when the bros need to rescue eachother. The bros are genuinely happy to have them as teammates. The show even did the standard “boys vs girls” episode in the form of When Fish Fly - but instead of being actually girls vs. boys, it’s engineers vs. adventurers. There’s nothing really gendered about it - the girls happen to be engineers, and the boys happen to be adventurers. And the episode doesn’t end with the boys being “wow gosh darn I shouldn’t have doubted you girls are better at everything,” it’s a mutual agreement that both parties have hard jobs. Basically, the bros are very naturally respectful of women. That plays more into their feminist narrative too, but either way, it’s refreshing.

Then, we have Jimmy! Jimmy, the lovable gamerboy pizza man. At first glance Jimmy seems like the stereotypical cowardly, pathetic, emasculated loser. He’s frightened of most things, as of yet has no power suit, and he BAKES for crying out loud! But none of these things are framed as terribly bad traits. Sure, we laugh when he screams and runs from an animal, but though it happens over and over, the crew doesn’t get sick of it. They don’t berate him or belittle him because he’s so gosh darn cowardly. There’s a great scene in Rattlesnake Crystal where Jimmy has to deliver something to the bros alone, in the middle of a spooky desert. He is terrified the whole time, sprinting off after he delivers the goods. When Martin and Chris run into him, they don’t laugh at him for being spooked, they just greet and then bid fair well to their friend. To them, this is just Jimmy, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Jimmy isn’t coddled, but he is reassured many times that he’s a valuable member of the team. I love that little message, that you’re just as important of a person even if you can’t do as much or have greater limits. When his friends do try to get him over his fears, it’s not because they have to, that the day will somehow be ruined by Jimmy’s incompetence p, but because they’re his friends, and want him to experience fun and wonderful things that he would otherwise miss out on. But what Jimmy CAN do is just as important! Jimmy is a gamer, which in a lot of shows, is portrayed as a lazy, useless, mindless hobby. But here, because he plays video games, it makes him essential for piloting the ship and teleporting important items. There’s always the joke that video games improves your hand/eye coordination, but recent studies have shown it has much better effects. It can make you much better at keeping track of multiple moving objects and processing technical but variable information- two traits which, fittingly enough, are really really important for air traffic controllers and airplane pilots! He also demonstrates a lot more courage behind the wheel of the Tortuga, which makes sense - in an impersonal setting, he would have more sense of calm and control and courage, because it’s so similar to a video game world. It’s not all too different with how I feel more emboldened to pick fights with people on the internet, but get crazy anxious if a real person so much as looks at me. So Jimmy’s love of video games isn’t because he’s irresponsible, it has real benefits. A quick last point - Jimmy also eats a lot, but they thankfully don’t make him fat or greedy or anything like that. He never takes food from people, he actually bakes, and shares it with others! Having the baker be a boy is a lovely touch.

I might do another post about the toxic masculinity of the two villains, (or four villains, I guess, if I wanna discuss the minions) but I’ve got other work to do, and this post is long enough already, so I’ll get around to it later. I’ll sum it up with this - Wild Kratts is a show that teaches boys it’s not only ok to be kind, but essential. The brothers protect defenseless animals, advocate for things “icky” and “weird,” like bugs or snakes or worms - not because they’re boys, and boys like icky things, but because they genuinely see the beauty in all life, and are encouraging us to slow down and do the same. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world not by being the strongest or smartest or coolest, but by looking after those who are exploited and vulnerable, who are essential to the world, even if they can’t always do everything. In Wild Kratts the only weaknesses a man can have isn’t what he can’t do, but what he does do that he shouldn’t have. Sure, it’s a cute show about two funny guys who have cool powers, but it’s also a show about accountability, compassion, respect and trust. The show says “boys will be boys” in all the right ways - Martin is a lovable goof with a heart of gold, but he still has to get his act together when he messes up, and he’s still creative and smart and openly sensitive. Chris is a bit of a know-it-all show-off, but he can also mess up as much as his brother, and is still bold, brave, adventurous, and can put his money where his mouth is. Jimmy is a cowardly, napping, eating machine video-gamer, but he’s still a valued member of the team, has incredible skills and talents, and will always help his friends, even if he is really, really scared. It is so important to have role models like these, in a world dominated by unhealthy machismo. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world - both animated, and real.

All they need now is a canon queer character, and I’ll stan them forever! My money’s on Aviva!!

[derangedhyena-delphinidae]

numerous issues with “The Aftermath of Seaworld”

When I get time to do so (aka when I’m done with the documentary), I’m likely going to make a video version of this going into the details. 

But for right now, I’ve made this. Both as a guideline for me and so everyone can begin to get an idea of the severity of issues involved.

Researching things is time-consuming and can be very difficult - believe me, I know. But I’m of the mind that if you’re making content with the intent of educating people, you have a responsibility to perform a certain level of due diligence. It IS okay to express uncertainty or doubt if you have it. It is NOT okay to confidently assert things that you do not know with certainty.

The video has an anticap slant, and I’m obviously not disagreeing on that front. But again: if you’re gonna go through the trouble of teaching people something. Bare minimum... please make sure it’s actually correct. *** 1) x ‘founded in 1964 and based out of Florida’ -  ???? Seaworld definitively began on the west coast, in San Diego, CA. And given that the first park opened in early 1964… things came together before that. Uh? 2) x ‘four people founded Seaworld [...]’ For one… it wasn’t originally conceived as a restaurant, it was originally conceived as an underwater bar/lounge. Two… calling the four guys involved in founding the place “frat brothers” is fucking ridiculous and completely overlooks a) how each was actually involved and b) the overall significance of their contributions to the field as individuals. Hint: like it or not, they were important and did a lot! 

3) x If one is going to bring up SWBGCF/rescues while talking about the literal founding of SW, it gives the impression that it’s been around for that duration. It hasn’t.  It’s actually a bit unclear when SW started an organized rescue program, but the Fund itself and all that it did came about much later. The rescue information and how it’s presented is actually INCREDIBLY complex, nuanced, and has a fascinating history (from a “bad company behaving badly” perspective). Oversimplifying this, to this degree and in this misinformative way, does the facts of the situation an INCREDIBLE disservice.  

4) x [assertive statement about what the name Shamu means]  ….Uh actually there’s several explanations for the name Shamu, and the most likely one IMO seems to be the “she-namu” one, not the “friend of Namu” one(? What is this even based on.) 4b) It’s not quite clear if she’s saying “Namu was the first ever orca to be displayed and perform shows” or or Namu was the first to be displayed and, like Shamu, performed shows. Either way, Moby Doll was the first to truly be displayed to the public, not Namu.

5) x ‘Namu died after one year in captivity and you’d think that this might deter Seaworld from doing the same thing again…’ Seaworld truly had nothing to do with Namu. And they leased/took possession of Shamu before Namu died. ‘Again’? What?

6) x “Now, PETA paints a pretty disturbing picture…” [while showing Okura’s artwork] This video segment is, and this is putting it nicely, a pile of poorly-researched BULLSHIT.  -Yes, PETA talks about Shamu’s capture, re: the harpooning of her mother. This Youtuber cannot apparently be arsed to look more than 1 Google search into this, as she proceeds to dismiss the information as potentially fabricated. There are two detailed accounts of Shamu’s capture that I’m aware of - in books - and though they have some slight conflicts, it’s absolutely NOT in doubt that the female who was very likely Shamu’s mother was 1) harpooned, 2) died from her injuries and 3) this had been done to make her easier to catch/locate because there was a fucking buoy attached to the harpoon. Which she dragged around for at least 24 hours prior dying.  So maybe don’t dismiss that as PETA hysteria, maybe TRY to determine the truth of the matter, which would inform one that it is both true and completely horrifying.  -In addition, Okura is an awesome individual who has worked very hard to create a variety of informative artwork for our cause. Okura is NOT associated with PETA and it’s borderline libel in my eyes to use their artwork in this dismissive manner when the primary sources of it can be easily identified online, with full explanations and everything. Do I take special offense to this because of the misuse of artwork? Absolutely. Artists get disrespected enough online. I’m tired of it. This kind of laziness IS NOT acceptable.

7) x ‘timeline is fuzzy about when Shamu died’ …………… it’s…. It’s really not … newspapers are pretty clear about it…..

8) x [complete and utter oversimplification of the lifespan issue, which is not acceptable for anything published in 2020. It just isn’t. If you’re going to bring it up like this, either do the legwork and get into the weeds or stay out.] 8b) [same for reproductive ages. sigh]

9) x if we’re going to talk about when Cornell was involved with Seaworld it’s very important to specify when Cornell was involved with Seaworld and not make it seem like it’s present tense.

10) x “both were rescued by Seaworld” - uh? no. Zero orcas have been rescued by Seaworld. Literally none. The infected-jaw orca was Sandy, whose story is complex and certainly does not involve Seaworld until much later. And many of the orcas in that time period had bullet wounds, often only identified post-mortem because they didn’t seem to hurt the animals much. Also, unflinchingly blending 70s captivity ethics with modern ones is also complete nonsense? 

11) x [tilikum coming from sealand] inhales I am going to make an entire video centered on this fucking subject because it’s one of the single most profound arguments for Seaworld being garbage as assessed by US government agencies in the 90s yet everyone utterly fails to mention this. Why?!

12) x what on earth is this nonsense re: quoting a quote from Zimmerman’s article - which has already been removed from its original context, so the original context is not available - and then penalizing the quote for existing as if Zimmerman’s article were the context? That is offensively disingenuous. I honestly don’t know what the original context is, either - but it’s wildly inappropriate to act as if the Zimmerman article is.

13) x this is relatively minor but ‘Paul Sprong’? You literally have his name on the screen. And then mis-reading his age too? While asserting it from a static article published years ago? Effort? Where is it?

14) x ‘another trainer, Peter’ ….. Ken Peters…. 

15) [weirdly glossing over the widely-available list of orca-trainer injuries/aggressions, despite it being central to the point.] 16) x This pilot whale outrage certainly happened but it was pretty clearly Blackfish that started the cascade of woes for Seaworld. Who has ever asserted this?

17) if you’re gonna just rehash blackfish, tell people to go watch blackfish.

18) x I’ve already gone over the context issue with Seaworld calling out Howard’s statement in Blackfish here (point 23). Which is to say, IN CONTEXT in Blackfish it’s clear what Mr. Garrett is talking about but, divorced from that, it sounds incorrect. But this Youtuber AMPLIFIES the issue by doubling down on the assertion with “no record of a killer whale doing any harm to anyone in the wild.” The surfer event should always be mentioned. Yes, there’s absolutely room for doubt. But there’s also a clear demarcation between an accidental attack (eg mistaken identity, as was likely for the surfer) and intentional one (eg the incidents at marine parks.) Why do people kneecap themselves on this point 18b) please stop acting like Luna represents orcas in general.

19) x “Howard, for all of his research…” … while referring to David Duffus’ b-roll and statements. Uh. 20) x Apparently this Youtuber has single-handedly resolved the dorsal fin issue. You know, the thing that hasn’t been properly researched ever, that has been subject to a ton of debate, that isn’t 100% settled for a variety of reasons, and almost everyone talks about in terms of theories and likely possibilities.  21) x Alexis Martinez wasn’t “torn to shreds.” In a space where even moderate exaggerations are often penalized harshly by the opposition, this kind of blatant nonsense is not welcome. Plus, the reality’s bad enough… you don’t have to make anything up!

22) x *sighs. points at own webpage*

23) Talking about the shows stopping without acknowledging how that’s a bit of a farce is something else. In addition to apparently just flipping to buying what Seaworld’s selling re: its ‘improved image.’ 

*** Tl;dr video is so unrelentingly full of errors ranging from small to egregious it makes me seriously concerned for the veracity of the rest of this person’s content. The maker of the video provided a list of their sources in their video description, which I will have time to look through in detail later. The above is solely a response to the information they present IN THE VIDEO - which, is very important because let’s be real: a lot of people are not going to look at the list of sources. People don’t even do it when citing papers (no really, you’d be surprised, fml.) For anyone who wants to whinge that I haven’t linked or asserted any sources of my own for my claims… well, remember what I said about time-consuming and ‘I’m busy’? Yhea. Getting all of that together will be part of making a video. So if you want to shrug loudly at my list here… you can, that’s your prerogative, I’m happy to say I DGAF if that’s your takeaway. 

What I hope, is that if there’s anything I’ve made clear over the While of running this blog, it’s that I don’t fuck around when it comes to sources and information and do my best to provide what information exists, all of it, not just cherrypicked bits and bobs. Anyways. Here’s step 0 at least. Please don’t share that video. Pretty please.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.3

Childe elected to ignore your groan of pain when he yanked you to your feet.  "No hard feelings, comrade."

"I-I'm gonna kill you," you breathed.  "I'll kill you and that damned witch if it's the last thing I do."  A cold hand pressed to your side while the harbinger threw your other arm over his shoulder to escort you inside.

"I suppose I'll have to train you then if that's your goal."

He wasn't joking; the two of you would remain at a stalemate until your strength grew.  He taught you--what you assumed was--almost everything he knew, though for you to reap the full benefits of his knowledge would take years of training.  Despite this he pushed you over and over again, every day, after the wound he gave you closed.  He didn't give you the courtesy of healing completely before initiating fights with you.  He didn't go easy on you either--but it's not like you would've wanted him to in the first place.  At least your sparring sessions gave you an outlet to take out your frustrations on.

You didn't count the days that passed.  You didn't call for Xiao.  You didn't rely on him to save you when all is said and done.  It was time to rescue yourself; if you overran the palace on your own, then other nations wouldn't need to get involved on your behalf.  If the palace fell, no one except you would be held responsible.  You were okay with that.  If it meant Xiao, Aether and Zhongli would be excluded from the wrath of the cryo archon, then your struggles were more than worth it.

Yet with every passing day, more and more Fatui agents were injected with the serums that contained your blood--and survived.  The only thing that made their successful adaptation possible was the sealing of your and Xiao's bond.  With that thought in mind, you were growing increasingly impatient.  You were the one that insisted upon training for most of the day, not Childe.  You were the one looking for a fight.

"Why're you doing this?"  You asked one day while your hand absently trailed down to the fresh scar on your side where he had impaled you.

"Doing what?"

"Training me.  Isn't it a stupid move to train someone how to fight when they're intent on killing you?  If I was you, I would've just let me bleed out in the snow back then."

"If I didn't train you, I would be missing out on one of the best fights of my life."

"Is that supposed to flatter me?"

"It's the truth.  Where else am I supposed to find a worthy opponent?  At my current power level, I'd have more luck with creating one."  Childe conjured his bow and twirled it in his hand, seemingly debating something that was on his mind.  "With your improved skills, I think we'd be able to take the other harbingers."

You froze.  "What?  Why would you say that?  Whatever happened to your undying loyalty?"

"My loyalty for the Tsaritsa and my respect for my coworkers are two entirely different matters.  What I really care about is fighting.  It's been so long since I've had an exhilarating battle, even after Aether showed up.  I would give anything to feel that thrilled again.  And that, dear ojou-chan, is where you come in."

"I'm not fighting you for the thrills.  I will kill you, I'll make sure of it."  It's insulting that he'd even look at your anger as a type of entertainment!  The nerve of this guy--

"Well until then I think we could stir up quite the trouble, you and I, don't you think?"  His eyes finally left his weapon and locked onto you.

"...What exactly are you implying, Tartaglia?"  Narrowed suspicious pupils returned his mischievous ones.

He didn't answer, instead leaving you with an ominous smirk and returning to the palace walls.  Why should you trust a word that fell from his mouth after the Lantern Rite stunt he pulled?  Maybe a small part of you wanted to believe he had some inkling of good in him, but you forced that wishful thinking down into the depths of your soul.  Childe betrayed you so many times; it was in his nature to do so.  He would never be done deceiving you either.  You were sure of it despite the doubts that weighed on your mind.

.........................

"Bow before Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa."  La Signora crossed her arms over her chest when you just glared at the dark throne that sat beneath the shadows.

"I think not."

The clicking of the harbinger's heels echoed in the silent room as everyone held their breaths.  No one dared stand up to the cryo archon; it was unthinkable, even considered treason to question her actions.  This would be the first meeting with the god since you formed a contract with her.  And yet despite your quivering knees, you didn't remove your disrespectful glare from the throne.

"I wasn't asking."  Fingers gripped your chin and forced you to look Signora in the face at an uncomfortably close distance.  "You know the drill.  Bow."

A beat of silence hung heavily in the air and then an awkward cough came from one of the Fatui advisors to your far right.  You didn't blink.  "Did I stutter?"

Signora's lips curled into a half-amused smirk before her fingers let go of your chin and were replaced by a palm slapping you instead.  Her nails broke skin, but your expression never changed even when the stinging pain rang through your ear.  "Have you forgotten who you serve?"

"She's not my god."

"Maybe not the one you worship, but I am the one you serve," the Tsaritsa leaned forward from her place on the throne and gestured for the Fair Lady to return to her side.  "Tell me, why did you request to see me?"

A quick glance was sent Childe's away as if to check yourself.  You had decided it best to at least try the peaceful way out before throwing yourself into a suicide mission.  If worse came to worse, at least you'd be able to put your new knowledge to the test.  "I'm no longer working for you."  The archon's silence urged you to continue.  "You don't need me here anymore.  You got what you wanted.  I'm going to return to Liyue."

"Is that so?"

"I will leave regardless of your answer."

"And you think I'd just let you walk out of here after all I've done for you?"  The temperature dropped, but it displayed an emotion that you couldn't put your finger on.  "I gifted you your vision, spared your life and that of your friends, and you insult me in return?"

What is this feeling of dread in my stomach?  Your fists tightened and you took a deep breath to steady your nerves.  "The trials are over now that Dottore's injections work.  That was our deal, was it not?  You want to break our contract?  I thought you were more credible than that," you tested.

"I know what you've been thinking," the archon's thin lips formed a sinister grin.  "I know you're plotting to cause an uproar, and I am telling you now that you will fail.  Heed my words, Mezzetin, you are and always will be under my control."

"Wh-What did you just say...?"  Your heartbeat drummed loudly in your ears and you knees felt like they would give out beneath you.  This...This happened before.  When did she say that?  Where did I hear these words from?  Cold, desolate eyes watched you carefully as the room spun beneath your feet.  "Stay...away..."

"You work for me, not the other way around.  If you leave now, I'll give the order to kill those friends of yours.  You're not done until I say you're done."

"You wouldn't--!"  Bile burned the back of your throat, and a shaky hand covered your mouth in case you suddenly couldn't hold it in.  "You...you..."  An unsettling realization came to light.

"Do you understand the position you're in, Mezzetin?"

"It was...You gave me those nightmares!  Those were all you?"

"You don't think I'm oblivious to your desires, do you? You will always be under my control."

"If you dare touch him I'll--!"  Hundreds of shards manifested behind you and simultaneously shot at the throne.  The more that shattered against the seat and back wall, the more that manifested and replaced them.  

The ones that barreled nearest to the Tsaritsa diverted their path and shattered against the back wall like they had a mind of their own.  Signora used her catalyst to redirect the remaining shards to you.  Luckily none of them landed a strike on your skin, but a charged arrow of Childe's landed before your feet and you slipped on the forming ice.  His hydro blade was immediately at your throat, along with Signora hovering over you with an annoyed look on her face.  The three of you were surrounded by Fatui officers in an instant; despite their capabilities, they were slower than the harbingers.

"If she makes a move, kill her," the archon calmly ordered, completely unbothered by the commotion.

Signora had her men drag you away to the all-too familiar exit that led to the cells beneath the palace.  They forced your head forward so you didn't see the Tsaritsa recline back in her seat and into the shadows.

The archon swiped her finger across her pale cheekbone and warily inspected the fresh blood that had run down the side of her face.  I missed one?  One of your shards did manage to hit her.  Such a measly attack shouldn't have injured me, she thought as she stared at her fingers in awe and concern.  While your power had grown to a certain extent thanks to Childe's training, it was by no means anywhere near equivalent to his--much less equivalent to a god's.  Your strikes, while powerful, shouldn't have been able to hurt the cryo archon.  Yet here she was, staring at the blood you drew from her.

She recalled the wild look in your eyes when you decided to attack her.  Such a beautiful, pitiful sight that held an immeasurable lack of sanity and rational thought.  Your rage was feral, but just like a wild animal, so was your fear of being caged.  She could see it in your stance;  you were all bark and little bite.  The soft interior within her hardened heart actually admired your bravery...only a little, though.  If she were to achieve her goals, that flame of admiration would quickly be extinguished since it had no place in such a cruel world.

Her thumb smoothed over her bloodied fingers while she thought quietly to herself.  It shouldn't have been possible to harm her.  Not on your own, not even with your vision.  It was then that it dawned on her the true meaning of your bond with Morax's sole-surviving warrior adeptus.

So this is the power of the Vigilant Yaksha.

[heyitstwistytime]

Playing Possum

Prologue:

You're a defenseless person trapped in a world with intense and deadly magic it was only a matter of time before something happened. Well, more than the usual brand of nonsense.

Really it's laughable how it all played out. You got a love letter with instructions to meet up near Ramshackle's forest during lunch. You almost didn't go, but you know that the boys here are...eccentric and persistent. Better bite the bullet and nip this in the bud.

You meet him, an overconfident third year who spends most of his love confession bragging about himself. You reject him, and he curses you into an opossum. With no thumbs and a lot shorter worldview, he leaves you to fend for yourself. With no one else you head to the friends you've made here during your... extended vacation.

Heartslabyul Boys

Ace Trappola:

Absolutely not.

Terrible choice tbh.

Thinks you're ugly and doesn't hesitate to tell you

Probably pokes you with a stick. Oh, that hurts? Ah man, that sucks you should've been stronger.

If you somehow tell him you're the housewarden of Ramshackle he will spend the next hour laughing so hard he can't breathe.

Then he tries to threaten you, blackmail you, whatever it takes to get you as his personal servant.

Man is thriving off this power imbalance.

Bite him for me

Deuce Spade:

Dense but will absolutely take you in and take care of you.

Does he know anything? No. But very good boy.

Congratulations!

You've unlocked the achievement pampered pet!

Will do everything in his power to get you back to normal.

Works better if you promise to make him food.

But even if you don't he'll try. He's a good friend unlike some Ace

He will let you chill on his shoulders and carries you to class.

Totally can be convinced to skip though.

Though if you do go to class, you have to explain the situation and the teachers will most definitely point you to a solution.

If you skip... well... hope that one of you thinks to ask someone for help.

Cater Diamond:

Another terrible choice.

Will rescue you, (if you're injured) posting on magicam his deeds and then absolutely paw you off on Trey.

Doesn't really want the responsibility and Trey will do a much better job

Will avoid you 100% if you're uninjured. Can't even tell him who you are.

Puppy eyes will work on him but you're not a puppy so...

Corner him if you want him to know.

He very hesitantly will take care of you... if you insist.

Hates the idea of searching for a counter spell.

Mention magicam modeling sessions or like those accounts dedicated to pets and you've got his whole attention. Just when he remembered Riddle...

Forces you to be an opossum for two days. For the views. Bite. Him.

Trey:

Responsible but absolutely not looking for a pet.

Not that he wants an opossum as a pet.

I headcanon that he probably dislikes rats. Mostly because he grew up working in a bakery. If I was a rat I'd break into a bakery.

Will try and nudge you back somewhere safer (and out of the way).

Tell him who you are and he'll feed you and make sure you're safe.

The only one on this list whose first instinct isn't 'I can solve this problem by myself'.

He goes to Riddle.

Riddle Rosehearts:

Definitely, an animal lover, will 100% help you out, but only if it seems you want it.

Man respects wild creatures okay.

Headcanon him secretly wanting lots of animal friends bc he's super lonely and isolated

So you go to him and you've already won.

Will lecture you the whole time (affectionately) that wild animals should be more careful around humans.

He totally lectures the hedgehogs.

Responsible All the way.

He totally becomes attached and wants to keep you.

Unless there's a rule against it you'll be living large with the hedgehogs.

How flustered he is depends on when you reveal you're the Ramshackle housewarden.

The longer the better.

Does everything in his power to turn you back.

You're probably good by the end of the day.

Conclusion: If you want to be a pet go to Deuce or Riddle. Avoid Ace and Cater. If you have to Trey will work. He makes tasty snacks at least.

[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

Welcome Home | Chapter Eight

Chapter Title: Wild One 8/? Wattpad

"Arthur wants you to what?" Dutch demands as he paces in front of his tent. There's a vein in his forehead that probably makes him self-conscious. You figure it's best not to mention it.

"He wants me to help rescue Sean," you say from where you lounge on a tree stump. A butterfly floats toward your face, and you absently reach out for it. "Sounds like a good time."

The butterfly lands on your finger, tickling your skin as it walks. You watch its wings flutter with the soft breeze. Meanwhile, Dutch is talking, talking, talking. You've come to realize he does that a lot.

"Y/N." He massages his temples. "You're not listening, are you?"

"Hm?" You wiggle your finger so the butterfly does a little dance.

Dutch sighs. If it's one thing you enjoy more than, well, being in the past, it's annoying him. Smiling, you let the butterfly fly away and turn to face Dutch completely. He's watching you, expression stern and undeniably fatherly. It takes all you have not to roll your eyes.

"I can't stay cooped up in camp for forever," you say. "I'm gonna go crazy."

There's a brief moment where Dutch looks like he's considering this, but then he shakes his head.

"These ain't O'Driscoll's you'll be dealing with, Y/N." He gives you another stern look. "They're bounty hunters. They ain't dumb."

Neither am I, you think, but instead blurt out: "I killed an O'Driscoll, ya know. I can handle myself."

Had Dutch been smoking a cigar, it would have dropped from his mouth. He gapes at you, and you mentally kick yourself for letting that slip. Right. Arthur hadn't told him about Six Point Cabin... well, all of it, anyways.

"When did that happen?" Dutch demands.

You chew your lip. "Uh..."

"No no," he holds his hands up. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

Dutch goes quiet for a moment, debating with himself. You watch him, hoping you know what's going to come next.

"For rescuing Sean," he eventually says, "you stay right by Arthur. If I find out you so much as left his sight, so help me, I'll shoot you both."

You grin. "Okay."

"Understood?"

"Yep."

At that, Dutch seems satisfied. After giving you one long, long look, he sighs and walks off, muttering something under his breath that you don't quite catch. You smile to yourself. Another win in your direction.

.

.

.

Fifteen minutes sees you bored as all hell. As it turns out, you're not going to be rescuing Sean for another day or so, which means you have too much time on your hands. When that happens, you get twitchy. Boredom was awful in your time, and it's awful now.

You heave a sigh and sit down on a tree stump. Everybody else in camp has their own stuff to do. It seems like, once again, you're the odd one out.

But then you spy Arthur hauling haybales to the horses. Instantly sitting up straighter, you watch as he lifts them effortlessly, as if they weigh nothing and not a thousand pounds each. You wonder what it would be like for him to life you like that. The thought makes you smile. Arthur Morgan: the man with the strongest arms and the softest heart.

"—Y/N?"

You barely stifle a shriek and leap up from the tree stump. How and when Arthur came to stand by you, you don't know, but he's there now. And he's watching you, clearly waiting for a response.

"Uh," you stammer. "What'd'ya say?"

"I asked if you're okay," he says. "You were staring off into space."

You try not to look guilty. "Guess I was just daydreaming."

Arthur gives you a smile. "Must've been some dream," he tells you.

You think back to him hauling the haybales and find yourself grinning despite everything.

"It was," you eventually murmur. Then, blushing furiously, you amend: "But hey: dreams are dreams."

There's a mortifying moment where you think he's going to press for more, but luckily, Arthur just shrugs and lets it go. You sigh in relief as he walks away. The last thing you need is for him to figure out, well, everything.

Turning around, you head for Pearson's wagon to help out with the dishes, only to mow over Abigail, who's doing the same.

"Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry," you stammer as you help her up from the ground. "I was so distracted. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry."

"Y/N," she interrupts with a laugh, "I'm fine. You don't gotta apologize so much."

"Sorry." You kick yourself. "I mean... okay?"

Abigail laughs again and steers you toward Pearson's wagon. "What's on your mind? You've been acting funny all day. Well..." she smirks, "funnier than usual, anyway."

You think back to your conversation with Arthur and glance over to where he's saddling Florence for a ride into town. If you're honest with yourself, he's what's on your mind... has been for a while.

You look away. No need to do or say something stupid.

"Nothing," you lie. "Just trying to adjust to the past, I guess."

Abigail raises an eyebrow. "You're a terrible liar, you know."

"I'm not lying."

A grin lights up her face as she apparently connects the dots. Giving you a look to rival all looks, Abigail says: "You fancy Arthur, don't you, Y/N?"

You feel your cheeks heating up again. If Abigail can see through you so easily... can Arthur?

"Your secret's safe with me," she reassures when she sees your expression. "And don't worry: Arthur's pretty oblivious when it comes to this sort of thing."

You try your best not to look over as Arthur leaves camp. There's just something about him... you can't really say for sure what it is. Honestly, don't want to try; the mystery is almost the best part.

"Thanks," you tell Abigail. And you mean it.

She smiles gently at you and guides you toward Pearson's wagon again. "Don't mention it."

With the two of you working together, you manage to finish the dishes in under a half hour. Pearson thanks you, then mentions that the camp could use some more supplies. Thinking back to your last hunting trip, you shrug. There aren't any bears around Horseshoe Overlook, so really, the worst that can happen is you just get lost.

Then again... maybe a fishing trip by the river might be a better idea. Guns still freak you out. Not only that, but you haven't watched enough survival shows to know how to make snare traps and whatnot. Besides: if it's you versus a wild animal, you have a pretty good idea who'll win.

You don't really feel like asking anyone to come with you, so you borrow a fishing pole from Pearson and head down to the river. It's quiet, certainly quieter than the future. As you cast out, you find yourself thinking about your own time. It's been at least a few months since the Van Der Linde gang found you, a few months since you magically appeared in the Grizzlies. You don't remember how you got there. Hell, you don't remember what you were doing in the moments leading up to it, either. One minute, you were in your own time, the next... you weren't.

It's... odd, all things considered. Every problem you had in the future seems so far away. And you suppose they are. Over a century's worth of distance (if time can be measured that way), and here you are, fishing—fishing—at a river you're not even sure exists in your time.

You shake your head. You'll give yourself an existential crisis at this rate, and that won't help anybody. Plopping yourself down in the mud, you settle down to wait however long it takes for a fish to take the bait.

You can't help but wonder who's really in control of whom.

A/N: Short chapter, but I wanted to get this story updated. I know it's been a while, but I want to thank everyone who's stuck with me. Means a lot. I'm hoping I can get back to a weekly update, probably every Sunday.

Inspired Music: Green Day | Wild One

[sunshineandbnha]

Back Then - Bakugou x female reader

Word count: 3,831 Minor warnings: little boys being a tad rude, a little bit of angst A/n: I had this idea when I watched a few episodes of Anohana, and I happened to finish it around his birthday. I really like this and I hope you will too.

~

The water trickled over the stones. Leaves rustled in the wind. And sometimes these sounds were completely drowned out with laughs and the voices of children. Children who had nothing better to do than run play in the forest. Then to run back home and hear the sounds of each one’s respective parent call them inside for dinner.

Those were the sounds of your childhood.

Playing hero in the woods with the little boy named Bakugou and the rest of his friends.

“A girl can’t join!” The boy with longer brown hair had said.

You stood before them. Having just asked if you could play with them. Upon receiving such a response, you began to retract in on yourself.

“We need strong brave heroes,” the boy with dragon-like wings added excitedly.

You stood still and bit your lip. Feeling unwanted for something you couldn’t control. The boy with green hair shyly began to open his mouth as if to protest.

Bakugou held out his hand to quiet them. He looked directly at you. “You can join us if you prove yourself. We’ll have a test of courage.” He pointed off in a certain direction. “In the forest, across the log over a stream, are two trees in an X. At night you’ll go grab a bucket on the rock under those trees and bring it in the morning.”

Your eyes stayed locked on his. Yours wavered in uncertainty, until you gave a nod and made the strongest face you could.

-

That night you snuck out when no one was looking. Unfortunately you had forgotten to bring a flashlight and the world was covered in darkness. However, you weren’t going to risk being caught by having to leave your home a second time. You walked through the lit up town. The only lights for miles shined artificially. You prayed the clouds covering the moon would go away.

You were feeling much more nervous than you were expecting and wanted to turn back so badly. But you weren’t a coward. You weren’t a useless girl that couldn’t be strong or brave. That could be left out. You couldn’t come back without that bucket.

It became much harder once you were at the entrance to the forest. The one that spiky blond haired boy had shown you. The streetlights faded away as you walked deeper in. You walked very slowly. You didn’t want to trip. Your heart pounded in your chest. You had to keep going.

In the end you decided to go down and step over the stream rather than cross on the log. Your prayers must have been answered, because the moon peeked through the clouds. When you looked up, you noticed that the majority of the clouds had moved on. By then your eyes had adjusted somewhat and the moonlight helped, but it was still difficult. Thankfully, the two trees weren’t far from the log. If Bakugou hadn’t told you which direction to go, you might have missed them in the dark. What helped were some shiny rocks in the moonlight, where it reflected and caught your eye. 

You walked closer, the light extra bit of light the rocks appeared to give off prompted you to move more quickly. The grass was soft under your feet. The two trees that formed the X seemed to have started to fall some time ago, but were caught by the other trees standing around them. And right where he said it would be, was a bucket sitting on a large piece of stone.

You ran to the bucket and picked it up, hugging it close to you. Then you looked back. You were on a slight hill and you thought you could see some of the lights from outside the forest. You almost dreaded going back. In the beginning, you had treated it like it would all be done as soon as you got the bucket, but you quickly realized that was only half the journey.

With a small sigh, you began to walk back. Though, you briefly stopped to scoop up one of the shiny stones and slipped it into your pocket. It was pretty, and you liked it. It was like they were placed in the moonlight just for you. And you were grateful for it. 

You weaved through the trees. Your eyes drifting between the ground and your target.

A sudden noise caused you to jump. Rustling in a nearby bush. Assuming the worst, you gripped your hand around the rock in your pocket, and raised it, prepared to throw in case some wild animal leaped out at you. You pulled your lips into a thin line and tried to make a brave face while you trembled.

It was coming out. You were preparing yourself to throw, your muscle tensing and fear running through you. Until you noticed it was a person. Someone your age. You could feel his eyes regard you.

“So you got it,” Bakugou, whose name you had yet to learn at the time, said.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in. “What are you doing here?” you asked gently holding the bucket close to you and dropping the stone back in your pocket.

“I didn’t feel like staying home, I thought I’d come too and make sure you did it.”

You nodded, shifting on your feet. There was a pause of silence. The lights in the distance illuminated the horizon like an artificial sunrise or cluster of clouds. The only sound present were the crickets and running water if you listened hard enough. You turned back towards the way home. Bakugou lifted up a flashlight he had with him and flicked it on.

The bright light made you blink as it illuminated the world in front of you. The light partly shown on his face, with his back still in the dark. It made him somehow look different than when he was fully bathed in sunlight. You didn’t know why, and you didn’t know why it seemed to give you a strange emotion.

“You didn’t bring a flashlight?” he asked as you had both started walking downhill.

“I forgot,” you said quietly.

He laughed, “Dummy.”

“Hey!” But something about the smirk playing on his face made you know he was joking and forgive him immediately. You even found yourself laugh too.

-

Eventually you were found out and got into some trouble when they realized you left the home alone at night. But in your eyes, it was worth it. You were able to bring the bucket to show the other kids. Ever since that you would explore and play hero in the forest. Typically, Bakugou was the main hero or even had his own agency. There were sometimes when you would play as the citizen in need of rescuing, but you also got your share of playing hero too. You spent so much time memorizing those trees and the countless things they could be. A tower, a base, a bank.

The grass became your carpet. The forest became your home. And it and your friends became your world.

Those were the most fun memories of your childhood.

And then it ended.

“Hey, Kacchan!” one of the little boys said, after resting from running around.

“What?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow.

“Do you like (Y/n)?”

It was a small question. But it felt like an earthquake. And years later it would feel like the Earth breaking in two.

Bakugou only paused for a few seconds, his eyes wide, before his face twisted into anger and he exploded. “No, dummy! Why would I like an ugly girl like her—!?” He immediately stopped when he remembered you, only a few feet away.

Everyone stared at you to see your response.

You stared at the ground, which helped to hide your shocked face. Feeling their eyes on you, you looked up to meet their gaze and put on a big smile. An uncharacteristically big smile.

Your happy attitude for the rest of the day felt fake and exaggerated. Once, when no one was paying attention and you thought no one would notice, you snuck off. You wandered through your playground. As you walked, your disguise slowly fell. It became harder and hardly to see clearly and your lip quivered. You didn��t know where you were going, but you knew once you saw it.

You stumbled down by the stream and sat yourself under the log you would walk across with the others. Somehow it felt safe. Being nestled under there with your legs pulled up to your chest. You hoped you weren’t getting your dress too dirty. Your face contorted with sadness as tears poured down your face and you struggled to contain your sobs.

You didn’t even understand why you felt this way. Why the words were repeating. Why your chest was hurting. You wouldn’t understand until you got older.

You stayed out there until it started raining. It started off with a few pitter patters until heavy sheets started coming down. The others had probably left and gotten back to their homes. Safe and dry. You on the other hand were so distraught that you didn’t even consider getting back through the rain. If you waited much longer, you might worry your parents. You had no choice but to walk through it.

You flinched at the cool water at first, but quickly got used to it after you were drenched. You weren’t in a hurry. You didn’t feel like running. So you wandered back home. You were quickly rushed to and dried off once you got back with a brief scolding. But they could seem to tell you were out of it and tired, so they let you off the hook.

-

The next day you woke up sick. Your little self hadn’t been expecting that since it had been warm earlier in the day, but apparently the rain was colder than you realized. You had to stay inside until you got better. They said that you needed all of your energy to recover and make sure it didn’t get worse.

Then just as you were starting to recover, you learned that you would be moving away.

“But what about my friends?” You had asked. Your arms and hands were pulled close to you.

“Don’t worry. You can always call and write letters,” you were told. But that’s not what happened.

Those words that forever repeated in your mind would become the last thing you heard Bakugou say.

 -

It felt strange to be back. Part of you almost wished you weren’t. All of your old memories were now bittersweet. And it was strange how it looked the same, but so many details were different. A lot of your memories from the past had blurred, though you wondered if you’d still be able to find your way around the forest.

Your family decided to visit some relatives who lived near your old home. They missed seeing you, and for the most part you didn’t get much say in the visit. So you had packed your things and prepared yourself for any heavy feelings that may hit you upon coming back.

Though, as you were walking down the familiar road, you noticed something was off.

“This isn’t the way to their house,” you commented, confident you still remembered he way to your relatives house.

“I know. We decided to see the Bakugou family.”

“What?” You nearly dropped your bag and nervous feelings danced in your stomach.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen Mitsuki. And you can spend time with little Katsuki again! It’s his birthday you know.”

You were aware that your parents would occasionally talk with Bakugou’s parents and had some sort of friendship because of your friendship with Bakugou. But you hadn’t imagined it would be strong enough for them to want to meet up again years later. Or for them to even consider your old friend's birthday.

“He probably isn’t little anymore. Neither of us are! We’re in high school. And we haven’t seen each other in years. About… eleven or twelve years.”

“All the more reason to see each other again and catch up.

You sighed. There was no fighting it and you just walked along.

Arriving at the Bakugou residence was a strange combination of pleasant and awkward. The parents greeted you warmly. You stayed to the side as much as possible. They started talking with each other, leaving you feeling like you were stuck in a room with a TV but no remote, and the show on wasn’t one you cared for. Bakugou didn’t seem to be fairing much better and had his arms crossed as he stayed away from them.

At dinner, they purposefully set you next to him. Your muscles kept involuntarily tensing up. Neither of you talked during the meal. In fact, he seemed to completely ignore your existence.

To be perfectly honest, you had started to forget what he looked like. The details of his face in your mind became more and more blurred over time. He had grown a lot more handsome since the last time you’d seen him. And for some reason it infuriated you. You began to shovel rice into your mouth.

Dinner ended, and you thought that would be the end of your anti-climactic reunion. Apparently the universe had other plans.

“Why don’t you two go out and catch up,” your parent suggested.

“What?” you and Bakugou said simultaneously.

And with that, you were practically pushed out the door. You both stood there for a moment before awkwardly deciding to just walk on the street. There were a few people out that you would walk around. It was a nice enough day, not too hot, not too cold. The sun ducked in and out from behind clouds during the day, but currently it was shining down.

You stood side by side with Bakugou. The tense silence poked you like needles. He walked with his hands in his pockets. Just like the rest of the day, he ignored you. He hadn’t even made eye contact with you since you both agreed to just walk around.

No matter how much you wanted to resist having a conversation with him, you preferred that to that agonizing silence. You awkwardly glanced around for a conversation topic. You caught some TVs on display playing the news.

“So I heard villain attacks are on the rise or something. Or was that just where I live?” you started, already feeling as if you failed, but kept going. “What if a villain jumps out here and attacks us?” you joked.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m going to be the number one hero. I would take them down before they could even get to you,” he replied, not even glancing at you.

You froze. Feeling like you had been plunged into ice water as a memory resurfaced. That night when you and him walked back from the forest.

You had been walking through the town with him next to you. You still clutched the bucket as you glanced around. It hadn’t occurred to you until then, but you remembered your mom saying villain attacks were more likely at night. When you first came out, all you could think about was getting the bucket. But now that you already had it…

You had tugged on the hem of little Bakugou’s shirt to get his attention. “I heard that there’s villains around here. What if one comes out and hurts us?” You shivered and sunk into your shoulders in fear. Your imagination wasted no time in showing you every possible kind of villain jumping out from any dark corner.

“They won’t.” He turned his head back to the path before him.

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m going to be a hero. And I would take them down before they got anywhere near you,” he said confidently, though never looking at you.

“(Y/n). Why’d you stop?” a voice dragged you back. Teenage Bakugou glared you down, annoyance evident in his expression. There were also subtle signs of curious along with it, but you didn’t notice.

The sudden rush of the memory was too much. You didn’t know what you were doing, but you just knew you wanted to leave. You wanted to be alone. You began dashing off. If he called after you, you didn’t hear. Why? Why were you hurting again? Why did it feel like your chest was being torn to pieces over memories that took place over a decade ago?

Everything was a blur around you. You had no idea where you were even heading to. You were simply met with the choices of whether to turn left, right, or straight, and decide in the moment. It didn’t even occur to you that you were running into a forest until several seconds after you did.

You ran, and ran. And you ended up back at that stream with the log. The same water trickling over rocks. The same rise of land that allowed for passage under the log. Somehow, after all of these years, you still subconsciously remembered where it was. It felt a lot smaller.

Without even thinking about it, you sat under that log. You curled in on yourself and stared at the water. Flowing over the small rocks, creating ridges in the clear liquid as the stones interrupted the flow.

You sat and stared. You didn’t even care, and pretended not to notice, when Bakugou slowly walked up and sat beside you. He didn't look at you. You did look at him. Neither of you made eye contact. Like the other was a ghost. But there was a strange mutual understanding that you acknowledged the other. That the silence and emotional distance was out of respect.

After all of this time, you were there again. Like you were kids once more. It was strange how, in a way, that forest raised you. You had certainly become more bold afterwards.

“What was that all about?” he said. But quietly.

You didn’t answer, opting for curling in further on yourself.

He paused. Hesitant on how to handle your silence. "I asked you a question."

"Nothing." Your voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Don't run off because of nothing! Idiot. I had to follow you all the way here." 

Birds filled the silence. Chirping songs to one another. Trees rustled in the breeze. It all created as harmony you were too familiar with. One you were both too familiar with.

"It's been a while since we were here," you said.

He nodded with a grunt.

You shifted your knees closer to yourself once more. But as you did so, you felt something slip out of your pocket. In brief confusion, you looked down. The blond followed your gaze.

Ever since that night, when you got the bucket, you kept that stone with you. It had perfectly been there when you needed it. And ever since you put it in your pocket that night, it hasn't left your side. It had been a good luck charm for you. A piece of your childhood. A sign that maybe someone out there was looking out for you.

“That’s… I—!” Bakugou’s eyes widened, but he stopped himself. He turned away as his face went pink.

“That’s what?” you asked confused.

“I… nothing. Just it looks like one of the rocks from around here.”

“Yeah. I'm not sure how you can tell that just by looking, but it is. To be more specific, it was one from the night I did that Test of Courage. I was actually pretty nervous. It was dark and I was stupid enough to forget a flashlight,” you softly laughed at yourself. “And… those rocks were there. It was a miracle that they were, otherwise it would have been a lot harder for me to find the bucket. I dunno, it’s weird, but for some reason, the way they were placed in the moonlight made me feel like someone out there was looking out for me.” Why were you even saying this? He probably didn’t care.

You looked over and saw him staring at the stream. His guard still seemed to be up, but his facial expressions looked softer for some reason.

 You exhaled. "God, I missed it here." Then the memory resurfaced again. "But…" Tears started to well up again.

He looked at you with confusion, and concern? If you weren't mistaken.

"What is it this time?"

"Nothing, just." Your lies seem to only strengthen the flow of tears. "I'm sorry. I thought I was over this. Why am I crying again? Sorry. It’s stupid."

"What is?!"

"You called me ugly! Is it true?" You didn't mean to say that. You didn’t even want to know the answer… actually, that wasn't true. You did want to know the answer. You were just afraid of what it would be.

"No!"

You blinked. "I'm not?"

"No, of course you aren't," he grumbled and looked away from you.

"Are you talking about now or back then?"

"Back then--" he suddenly stopped himself, his eyes suddenly wide, like he was saying something he wasn't supposed to. "And now too."

"Wait." You sat up. "But if I wasn't? Why did you say that?"

He quickly looked away. "No reason."

"What? No, it’s not. Tell me." You turned your body to face him, inching slightly closer.

"It's none of your business!"

"Is it because you thought I was ugly then? Are you lying so I don't feel bad--?"

"NO! IT'S BECAUSE I LIKED YOU!"  He slammed his fists on the ground.

Your heart sped up when you realized how close you were. His face burned pink when he realized the same thing. He backed up and looked away.

"Idiot."

You thought for a few seconds.. "So… do you still--?"

"Don't even ask that."

You let out a breath of a laugh. "You know, maybe sometime you can show me what you've been learning at U.A." You tried to say lightheartedly.

"Maybe."

You thought back to when you'd play in the woods. "I bet you're a great hero."

"Of course I am."

You rested your head on your knees. You tapped a finger against your arm until you had an idea. You got your phone out, pulled up a 'create contact' page and handed it to him.

"Here."

He stared at it for a second. Letting out a snort, he turned his head away. You gently set your phone down next to him. He ignored it for the first few seconds. With a "tch" he picked it up and started typing.

"Why are the keys so small?!"

You laughed.

"There." He shoved it back to you.

"Thank you," you said as you tucked your phone away.

It was quiet. But the comfortable kind. You both sat there. Enjoying yourselves and the moment. You took a breath in and savored it. You already knew what you would text when you'd have to leave.

"It was nice seeing you again."

[lifblogs]

Don't Call Me Sammy: Chapter 12

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11 READ CHAPTER 12 ON AO3 And this, my friends, is the end of the story.

Instead of allowing Sam to drift off to sleep like he had the night before, Lucifer decided that he hadn’t tortured him enough. Sam could disagree with that, but then again it was Satan who was torturing him; mercy wasn’t really in his vocabulary.

“What’ll it be, Sam?” Lucifer asked as he walked around him. “The torture table again? Or do you think I can come up with something more interesting?

The cage was now very empty. Sam had stopped trying to figure out how visual images and reality worked in the cage. The best he could tell was that Hell in itself was another dimension, so therefore, Lucifer, being a very powerful angel, could manipulate it to his will.

He shivered from feeling the dark angel’s eyes on him. He tried to hide it by crossing his arms against his chest, and to complete the little façade he was putting up he raised his head, making sure he was looking down at him.

“I see what you’re doing, Sam,” Lucifer said as he came to a stop in front of him. “You’re trying to pretend like everything’s okay. Like I haven’t been turning you into my little pet. Let me tell you this; I can see right through that. All this pretending to be strong, indifferent.” He shook his head. “No, it’s not going to work on me, Sam. Your eyes tell me otherwise. You’re terrified of me. You’re ashamed.” He took a step closer, and it took all of Sam’s power to not take a step back. “And you’re beginning to realize how weak you truly are.”

Steeling himself, Sam came up with a response, “Are you just going to listen to yourself talk the rest of the day, or are we going to get to the part where you torture me?”

Lucifer gave him a wry smile before he started encircling him again, more slowly this time. When he was fully out of Sam’s view he sang, “But this is torture for you, Sammy. I know how it gets under your skin. It bothers you so much to know just how helpless you really are.” Sam stiffened when he came up behind him; his breath blew over his ear as he whispered, “No one’s going to rescue you, Sam. This cage, this Hell… it’s eternal, and so am I.”

As Lucifer continued his circle around him, Sam quickly wiped away the tears that had begun making a trail down his face. Undoubtedly, Lucifer noticed, but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re beginning to break,” he went on, pointing a finger at him. “I know it.”

“Is that what you want?” Sam asked. “Is that the whole point of this?”

“No,” Lucifer responded, “but… it does make all this more fun. Of course, it’d be more fun if you managed to develop Stockholm syndrome.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked up through the bars of the cage, letting out a sigh. “Our sex life would be so much more enjoyable that way.”

There was nothing to say to that. No way to express the fear, and guilt, and hurt that instantly flared up in him. He clenched his jaw, using all his energy to simply keep it together.

As if snapped out of a reverie he clapped his hands together, making Sam jump. “Enough of that. I do believe it’s time to hurt you, bunk buddy.” And then, there was a chain in his hand.

Sam swallowed roughly as his mouth suddenly went dry. He cleared his throat, trying to gain the ability to speak.

“Chains again?” he asked, pretending to sound unimpressed. He even went so far as to raise his eyebrows condescendingly. “Do you have a fetish or something?”

Lucifer actually took in what he said; Sam could tell by the way he was eyeing the chain with the little pout he got when he was thinking.

“I think I might,” he answered honestly. “However, this time it’s not chains. It’s just the one.” He held it up with a delighted smile on his face. “See?”

“And what’s it for?” Sam asked, trying to sound carelessly disinterested. It was difficult when fear pulsed through him like a wild animal, clawing at him, trying to tear him apart. Lucifer gave Sam a knowing grin when his voice betrayed him, cracking on the last word.

He shrugged as he held the chain up, making a loop and peering at Sam through it. “I just thought I’d do some hanging today. I mean, not like the hanging I did yesterday, though that was fun. Today I just feel like seeing you struggle for breath and slowly die as your strength saps out of you.”

At his words, Sam found himself taking a step back.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at him. “You know there’s no point in fighting, Sammy.”

Despite Lucifer speaking the truth, Sam found himself balling his hands into fists. He couldn’t help it. A caged and wounded animal still lashed out.

As Lucifer eyed him he shook his head wistfully. “Bad boy, Sammy. I’m going to punish you later.” He quickly approached him, crowding his personal space. “Maybe a spanking will teach you to give in.”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but that was when Lucifer looped the chain around his neck. His hands reached up, scrabbling at the metal that pinched his skin and cut off some of his air supply. Tiny black spots started appearing in his vision. Unable to fight him now, Lucifer took his time to string the chain up through the bars (he’d had to throw it to do so), and then wrap the other end around his neck as well. He gasped as he was hoisted up from the floor. The pressure of the chain worsened until it felt like it would surely crush his neck. Sadly, for the time being, he could still breathe. A quick death would’ve been nice, but he knew Lucifer wasn’t one for even showing that amount of kindness.

This was, in some ways, worse than the day before. When he’d been torn apart by the hooks he’d still been able to breathe. Doing so had been painful, and feeling his life drip out of him had been its own kind of torment, but the discomfort of being slowly robbed of his oxygen was more panic inducing. His lungs began to ache, his throat was in agony, and his head pounded. His neck felt like it was going to break and tear from his body. The black spots in his vision grew more prominent, his struggles becoming weaker, and all the while, Lucifer looked on with a satisfied smile, his arms crossed comfortably over his chest.

It was in these moments of incoherence that Sam thought about his situation. Before, he’d endured, but now, it truly hit him. This was all there was. There was nothing left for him except for being tortured and violated. The more his vision faded, the more he wished that this would be it. That he wouldn’t come back this time.

Maybe it’d be better if there were nothing after death, Sam thought.

He yearned for that to be how it was, because, even in his addled and weakening state, he feared waking up. He feared opening his eyes to see Lucifer, the cage, the void. At that moment, Sam felt as if he couldn’t take it anymore. A tiny voice in his head whispered that he’d still endure even when he thought he couldn’t, but it was barely audible. There was just the panic that ebbed and flowed as his life seeped away.

Then, right before he welcomed the darkness, an unexpected thing happened. There was a painful tearing sensation that reached deep into his very being. He may have renewed his struggles, he couldn’t be sure. But for a while, there was only pain. And then, there was a blinding light, accompanied by a note that rang so strongly and pure he felt as if his head would explode.

---

Warmth was on his eyelids, and he opened them tentatively. He raised a hand up to shield his eyes from the glaring sunlight that met him. Unaccustomed to such light, but not entirely sure why, his eyes were watering fiercely.

When he was able to open them at least a smidge, he sat up, realizing he had been lying on the ground. Weird. Why would he do that if it was so uncomfortable?

Now, as if the thought of comfort had reminded his body of certain needs, his stomach rumbled, and there was a stirring desire for human contact that would no doubt have to be satisfied in a few hours.

Sam stood up, brushed himself off, and looked around the peaceful clearing he was in. Last he remembered he had thrown himself, Lucifer, and Michael into the cage. And now he wasn’t there. It did strike him as odd, but his rumbling stomach urged him to start walking, to find a town where he could get some food. And unbeknownst to him, as he walked away, he left something crucial behind; a piece of himself that would continue to endure further torture at the Devil’s hands:

His soul.