#and then it's everything on a sliding scale depending on my mood

[fezwearingjellybananas]

It was a close call after a bad morning but guess what I did yesterday

[ikwhatyouaremikewheeler]

Fourth of July: Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson

Note: once again the lyrics do not fully add up to the story. But enjoy!

Warning: character death, hallucinating, it's just a lot of angst? Detail of death, st4 spoilers?? Drug mention like literally once, depending on a dead person a little too much

Summary: Eddie Died in the upside down, but can Steve get over it, after those lonely nights?

'The evil it spread like a fever ahead, if was night when you died, my firefly. What could I have said to raise you from the dead? Oh could I be the sky, on the fourth of July?'

Steve had been a wreck, Eddie had died in the upside down, he had watched it happen. His wounds exerting too much blood to be healthy, everyone knew he was going to die, he'll even Eddie knew. Which is why he complained, when Steve who looked scared for Eddie.. for himself, had offered the vest back, only for it to be refused. "no no, keep it. It suits you." Steve's heart was hammering in his ears, he couldn't let Eddie die. Not after everyone else had, Barb, and Chrissy and Bob and when Will almost joined them all, and he refused to let anyone else die here. "keep it Harrington, I won't need it soon, plus it adds diversity to your wardrobe" Eddie chuckled, trying to lighten the mood some, which ultimately failed when the small gesture had turned into coughs, as if Eddie was on his deathbed, and he was.

'Well you do enough talk, my little hawk why do you cry? Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook Burn? Or the 4th of July? We're all gonna die.'

The nightmares of Eddie hadn't stopped, the light leaving his eyes, hair sticking to his face with blood and sweat. It was ingrained into his head. Eddie's casket had no body in it. The police weren't able to find it. Everything had passed in a blur, He didn't want to be be there. At school, listening to a teacher blabber on I some nonsense; he wanted to be with Eddie, in his arms. The scent of Weed, paper and his cologne mixed into the air. Eddie whispering into his ear, rubbing patterns on his back, assuring him that he was okay, and that he wasn't leaving him again. But then he always woke up, and he was reminded.. that he was gone. The scent of Eddie lingered on his jacket and vest, even his sheets, almost everything, and of could've been his imagination, but things had gotten worse, like everything tipped to the wrong side of the scale.

'sitting on the bed with the halo on your head, was if all a disguise, like junior high? Where everything was fiction, future and prediction now where am I? My fading supply.'

Steve had started getting Hallucinations, from guilt or fatigue, he wasn't sure. The first time it happened, he had just woken up from a nightmare, still desperately wanting Eddie to be by his side when he woke up. But he wasn't, instead he was at the foot of his bed. Completely healthy, not a scratch on him and dawning his usual apparel. He was smiling.. and Alive. Which made Steve think he had gone crazy, finally uttering out "Ed..Eddie?! But you- I saw you- I watched you get buried..—" was this what going crazy felt like? He couldn't process it, this had never happened with anyone else, so why now? Why Eddie out of all people? So he could be reminded he couldn't save him, was if a sick joke? The man he was in love with was right infront of him, like a taunting that he had died. "Jesus chill out Harrington, you missed me didn't you? So here I am simple as that."

'did you get enough love, my little dove why do you cry? And I'm sorry I left but it was for the best though it never felt right . My little versailles.'

Steve had finally comprehended the words tears sliding down his face, before he even had the chance to stop it. Practically jumping at Eddie, only to be met with The post of his bed, as soon as he showed up.. he was gone. He knew it was stupid, rushing through his day, eagerly waiting for night time to come around, helplessly waiting for Eddie to show back up. It was pathetic honestly, but Steve would do anything he had to just to see Eddie again.. to hear the smoothness in his voice, like honey. It was his drug.. that he couldn't get enough of. He had told Robin about all of it, who suggested he should probably try seeing a therapist, or that the Hallucinations were just his guilty conscience, maybe something from the upside down. "no rob, you don't get it. It's like he's there, like really there.. but as soon as I try to get closer, of try to touch him. Poof, he disappears" he knew how it sounded, how he had sounded crazy. But he was still so hung up on Eddie, several months later, even though he was a fucking ghost, he couldn't help it, he wanted to be able to touch Eddie again, to hug him.

'The hospital asked should the body be cast before I say goodbye, my star in the sky. Such a funny thought to wrap you up I cloth, do you find it all right, my dragon fly?'

Steve tried to stop, to stop staying up for that Golden honey voice, which had never sounded so sweet until those late.. tiring nights by himself, to ease his heartbreak by stopping, accepting he was gone. But nothing worked, not spending time with his friends, or time with the group of 6 Moody teenagers. Nothing worked, until one late nights, Steve had been listening to the pouring rain outside, with the sudden realization that Eddie hadn't showed up, it was almost dawn, where was he? The sickeningly sweet version of his boyfriend hadn't appeared, to ease his pain for a few hours, to comfort him despite the situation at hand. Which made Steve bolt up, scanning his room for any Signs of Eddie. Had his brain finally given up on trying to fix his aching heart?

Had Eddie disappeared forever? Were the last few nights his final moment's with him? Instead of going to sleep like a rational person, he stayed up, the memory of Eddie's last few moments showing up once again, how scared he looked, the pain in his eyes while Steve held him.. it was all too much. "Oh god.. he's gone, he really gone.." he had cut himself off with a sob, face hidden in his hands as sunlight poured through his curtains, illuminating the room and small Rays. He wanted to say he didn't Expect to wake up, and be in Eddie's arms again, but he did expect it. When it never happened, it was a ride awakening, he didn't wake up, he was stuck in the nightmare. No hallucination of Eddie could save him now, no matter how much he wished it could.

'Shall we look at the moon, my little loon why do you cry? Make the most of your life, while it is rife while it is light.'

Steve held on, not for Eddie, god he wished he could see him again. But no, he held on, for Robin, his best friend. For Dustin, who was there if he needed to talk, and was one of his best friends yet, for Lucas, who he could joke with and play Basketball with as bonding. For Max, Will and El who could understand his pain, what he went through, for Mike, who treated him like a brother, and for Nancy.. who he loved; but not in the way he loved Eddie Munson. No one could ever be Eddie Munson, and the gift he had given Steve was unforgettable, so he held on, for all of them.. and bit for himself. He had given up on waiting to see Eddie, his sweet, almost melancholy voice now just a faded memory, in the back of his head. The nights he still spent up, were now lonely, but they weren't as bad, he spent them wrapped up in Eddie's jacket, or vest, his days off spent at the cemetery, talking to an Empty casket, pouring out his feelings.

'well you do enough talk, my little hawk, why do you cry? Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook Burn or the fourth of July ? We're all gonna die.'

THE END

hope you enjoyed!

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Onni Durst – The Dragon Lady

▲ Onni Durst with Sun Myung Moon and Hak Ja Han in Manhattan.

Susan Swatland, from her book, Escape from the Moonies Chapter 8: The Dragon Lady

“If you go away, you dangerous, because you know too much.” Onni Soo Lim (Durst), spiritual commander of the Moonies in California

Onni came sweeping into Hearst Street, [in Berkeley] head held high, unsmiling, eyes glinting fire.

‘Quick, pali-pali. Come sit,’ she barked.

Pali-pali is Korean for ‘hurry’ and we hastily obeyed. When Onni was in this mood, tremors ran through the ranks. Our spiritual lives, which to us were everything, depended upon pleasing her.

She stood in front of us and those dark, fierce eyes slowly surveyed us all. ‘Why you not sell more for Father?’ she demanded. ‘Why you shame me?’

Feet shuffled uncomfortably, but no word was spoken. We had been spending eighteen hours a day for the past few weeks, selling pictures, roses and candy on the streets, and returning each night with just enough strength to slide into our sleeping bags. During that time we had been bringing in around 150 dollars per person per day, but nothing seemingly could satisfy this handsome, forbidding Oriental lady. One of the newer sisters Judith was rash enough to point out that at this season of the year the city was quieter than it had been during the summer months. This only served to stoke the fires of Onni’s fury.

‘Bah,’ she cried, ‘you too selfish. That true reason. Stop your flirt with Satan.’ She was interspersing her words with the karate chops that Moon uses in his speeches. She leant forward. ‘You all work harder for Father. You make promise to me this moment.’

And with shame in our hearts we chorused, ‘We promise to work harder for Heavenly Father.’

It would have been impossible to under-rate Onni’s position of power within the Unification Church. She was the female edition of Moon, fierce, fanatical and with their Korean kinship, his favourite disciple. She was the spiritual commander of all the Moonie forces in California and bodyguard to Moon’s wife, Hak-Ja Han, when she appeared in public. On matters of West Coast policy no one crossed swords with Onni … not even her husband Dr Mose Durst.

She was said to be so spiritually open that she could walk into a room and see the spirits all around her. She just needed to take one look at you and she’d know your spiritual state instantly, know whether you were closer to God or Satan. This terrified me so much that I didn’t dare look into her eyes. We would scrub and sweep rooms for hours before Onni’s arrival and open the windows wide, so that we could chase out the bad spirits. If we missed the slightest speck of dust or the minutest cobweb, she would be sure to spot it and rain down curses upon our heads.

This was one scary lady and made to seem even more sinister by the presence of her constant companion Teresa, an elder sister with mesmeric eyes. When Teresa became angry, which was often, even the strongest and bravest of the brothers stepped quietly around her.

Two prominent Californian Moonies, Jeff Scales and Evey Eden, had once been taken by their parents (under a court order ) to the Freedom of Thought Foundation rehab centre in Tucson which was being run by the Alexanders, Joe and his wife Esther. Immediately Onni, Teresa and a band of their disciples set off in pursuit.

Upon arrival at the centre, Onni stood beside the front door intercom and barked repeatedly, ‘Evey, Yacov (Jeff’s Moonie name), my children, come out, come out.’ Evey and Jeff were so terrified that they raced upstairs and hid under the bed. Evey’s father, a lawyer from Detroit, asked Onni to leave and when she refused, the police were called.

She continued to scream and shout until a police car arrived, then magically her mood changed, ‘Why, sir,’ she asked sweetly, ‘wasn’t I invited?’

Onni, Teresa and their followers were taken away in handcuffs and the Alexanders went in search of Evey and Jeff. They found them literally stuck under the bed and all four legs had to be lifted clear of the ground before they could be freed. Such was the terror that Onni could inspire. Is it any wonder that ex-Moonies refer to her as ‘The Dragon Lady’?

At the subsequent court hearing some of the cultists were asked to confirm that they had no wish to return to the Unification Church. When one of them did so, Onni spat straight into his face.

On another day Mose Durst was halfway through a talk at Hearst Street when Onni jumped to her feet.

‘Stop,’ she cried. ‘Sister fall asleep. Sleepy spirits get to her.’

And this poor girl had to stand up in front of us all. ‘Come sit here,’ commanded Onni. ‘We chase evil spirit out. Smash Satan.’

The girl, looking absolutely terrified, was forced to sit at her feet. Durst continued with his talk as though nothing had happened at all. But every now and then his wife would aim karate chops at the air around the girl’s head as though chasing away demons.

Onni had first joined the Unification Church in Korea and then moved on to Japan as a missionary. In the early seventies, Moon sent her to California to replace a Korean academic named Mr Choi (pronounced Chay) who had failed to make any impact in the state.

[Mr Choi is Papasan Choi was very successful, but had his doubts about Moon. His foundation was given to Onni Durst in 1974. ref. Michael Mickler. Papasan Choi later gave his reasons for leaving. See link below.]

The Bay Area Moonies have an elaborate mythology wrapped around Onni’s first two years in this new land. We were told that each day she would go to the Oakland Holy Ground and pray for God’s help in building the Church. As she could only speak Korean, she was a stranger in a strange land, existing on four hours sleep a night and a starvation diet. Eventually God rewarded this self-sacrifice by providing her first disciple Kristina; and upon this foundation, the Californian branch of the Moonies was built.

‘How poor Onni suffered for us,’ Teresa was fond of saying. I had heard those selfsame words from Jennifer; only in her case there was a difference. She was using them to describe the sufferings of our Messiah.

For such a dominant, hawklike lady, Onni could show surprising humility in the presence of Moon. When he came to stay at her Avalon house, she would reserve all the finest rooms for Moon and his considerable entourage. Her own room would always be the smallest of all.

Moon called her his ‘daughter-in-spirit’ and once in a jocular mood he said, ‘I am a slave driver for God; but I think compared to Onni, I am a most gentle man.’

Certainly as a slave driver on the city streets, Onni can have had few peers. Her teams of flower sellers brought in the most money; her teams of restorers brought in the most new recruits. They were all motivated by the same potent ingredient. Fear of Onni!

Her advice on the best way to snare the innocents ran like this: ‘Make friends, offer them whatever they are seeking, pray for Heavenly Father to guide them to dinner. Sisters get handsome men, brothers attract pretty girls. It’s good if they come because they like you. Once in God’s house, they learn to love God instead.’

Another bit of practical advice from Onni: ‘When you talk to people, talk only about their needs, their benefits, find out what will get them in. In witnessing, if people get negative toward you, just say that we support all churches.’

She was quite definite too about the targets … college types, intelligent, good-looking, respectable, idealistic, healthy, lonely and ideally on holiday. They also had to be white.

‘Black people don’t fit in so well,’ said Onni. ‘Hard for them. Not right time in God’s providence for them. Father says if whites don’t accomplish then use blacks to shame whites in America, but not yet.’

There were no ethics on the streets. Heavenly Deception was encouraged to run riot. One team from the Bay area, not mine, I’m glad to say, used to take out a van filled with wheelchairs. They would park the van in the early morning, climb into their wheelchairs and beg through the long day. Then late at night, they would put the wheelchairs back in the van and return to the centre with a fortune in donations.

Occasionally there would be rewards for the teams. They might be allowed to watch a rented movie such as Lost Horizon, The Sound of Music or The Ten Commandments. Or perhaps there would be a party with ice-cream at which Onni would perform the juggling acts she first learnt on the streets of Korea. Or if she really wished to show her gratitude to a sister she would take her to one of the multitude of massage parlours in San Francisco’s Chinatown. But mostly we would give our eighteen hours of labour in return for a meagre starchy diet, the use of a floor on which to sleep and the knowledge that we were helping to build the Kingdom.

Onni’s own rewards came on a grander scale. She would fly to New York just for a shopping spree. Her collection of jewellery was literally dazzling. And when her faithful disciples presented her with a beautiful blue Mercedes, her only comment was, ‘Why that colour?’

None of the sisters, not even Teresa, could claim to truly understand Onni. Partly because we were in such awe of her. Partly because she was so neurotic, so unstable, so changeable of mood. She was convinced that her phone was tapped and that her life was in constant danger, hence the huge Koreans who guarded her on the special days.

But it was the Moonies who left the cult who created the true traumas for Onni. She didn’t weep for them in the manner of Bethie the mother hen. No, Onni’s motives were more practical.

‘If you go away,’ she said, ‘you dangerous, because you know too much.’

________________________________________

One Family meeting with Onni Durst scarred my soul

The Creative Community Project leaflet

From a talk given by Dr. Mose Durst, President of the Creative Community Project.

Onni Durst’s trips to Las Vegas casinos, New York, and Seoul – and her luxurious lifestyle

Earl Raab, “Reverend Moon and the Jews – The San Francisco Experience”, Congress Monthly, December 1976.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

How would yanderes BakuDeku(poly) react to reader being forced to sleep with someone against her will and she turns to them for help

Yandere BakuDeku x reader | Ex Husbands Help Me!!!

⚠️[Warning: Implied mention of sexual assault, pregnancy before marriage, light mention of torture, yandere behavior, stalking, and murder]⚠️h

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the car in the parking lot squeezing your wheel but the sudden rush of the cold and the sound of teeth chattering had you snapping out of it.

“Kazuki. Iruki. Do you have all your stuff?”

“Yes Mama!“

“Why are we here?”

Iruki, always painfully curious. The last thing Iruki was going to let this go, she wanted an explanation. She had picked up on your anxiety the moment you picked them up from kindergarten. She knew Kazuki was just trying to keep the mood up but why?

You ignored her, herding them out the car and tutting them when you did happen to find their prized toys strewn about the backseat. You wanted to turn back around, pick the twins up and hightail it out of there; but you had to do this for your babies. That's what you told yourself as you rang that pristine doorbell of the familiar mansion and when the door opened to see the green haired muscular hero you tried to say the same thing.

“(Y/n)? What's wrong? We don’t get to have them for another two weeks?”

The worried falsetto you used to pour your heart out to in the dead of night almost made you do it again but instead you let the twins barrage his knees with hugs and grabby hands as they greeted him.

“Hi DADDY!” “Hello Dada.”

“Hiii heroes! Have you been good to Mommy? How was your day?”

You only followed with their abandoned luggage when Izuku invited you in with the hand that was still free. The twins began their mission of scaling your ex-husband as they had done many times before, answering their father’s inquiries as they scaled him like a building. You couldn’t help but smile assuring yourself that whatever would happen to you they’d be just fine. You fought back those annoying tears as you started taking out their necessities from the diaper bag. You knew Katsuki would want these scrubbed down right away saying something along the lines of, “I'M NOT HAVING THE GERMS OF ANYOTHER GRUBBY TODDLERS BUT MY OWN!!!”

“Pops!”

“Poprock!”

Speak of the devil. You cringed at your daughter’s sardonic use of her American terminology. You and Izuku both agreed that when she voiced her father’s connection to the candy you both wouldn’t point out that it wasn’t a candy she was calling him but a way to say his title and his descriptor: “Pop Rocks.”

“What are you troublemakers doing here? You didn’t trick Mom with that bull sh-butt routine, right?”

You appreciated the effort to keep things clean. You remember arguing about him censoring himself when the kids came; his rebuttal at the time was, “ the world’s gonna be that way anyway, better for them to handle it sooner!” You remembered it was a common argument throughout your pregnancy.

Your children shifted their focus from climbing their one Dad to climbing the other, giving Izuku the chance to talk under the pretense of helping you wash their dishes. When you felt his figure slide next to yours with a sippy cup in hand you couldn’t deny the heat that ran up your body in embarrassment. As if it wasn’t bad enough he casually brushed your hands against his as he washed the cup. He’s gotten a lot smoother, that's for sure.

“Does this have something to do with your boss?”

So perceptive he knew when you made out of character decisions it often fell to that one person. You had, many times, called either Izuku or Katsuki in a frantic voice to call you at a specific time and fake an emergency or just to come over and check that everything was okay. Even though this time was much worse you were sure you could get off with a partial truth.

Izuku was annoyed. He hated that you were even living so far away but it was the fact that they so often had to be your backup. Not that he didn’t enjoy your dependence on them but the fact you relied on them like a girl does on a bad first date was disturbing. After investigating your boss he found out why you did what you did.

He apparently was the head of an influential name with a fortune bigger than entire countries. This business was nothing but a playground where he poked and prodded at whoever he liked. To make matters worse he had a record of chasing around an employee whether they're receptive or not they’ll go missing, turn up dead, or are often traumatized for life. All within a month. He had been chasing you for six. Izuku during his many stakeouts had gathered enough evidence to incriminate him but the lengths his snakes in the Police Force and in the Hero Association. He realized if the enemy was going to play dirty he had to as well.

He had to thank Katsuki’s observation for your sudden change from ‘I never want to speak to you two again!’ to ‘could you call me at 21:34 on the dot and say that you're stopping by from your patrol.’ His husband had pointed out that you seemed to show off your connection to them as heroes and people who you talk to often. As much as he hoped it was because you secretly wanted to get back together Katsuki pointed out how you were probably using them as an insurance. They both recalled how you had done that often, even in high school, you often planned. Paranoia was a pain but came in handy when you needed it.

“You know if it’s a problem we can help…” He was stepping on eggshells, you were adamant about how independent you were.

“I don’t want your help.” You spoke through gritted teeth, this was the root of your separation. You found out how they did things and it got messy.

“(Y/n) seriously. You can’t quit. We can’t always make it in time. He is closing in and he’s going to do something horrible-”

He realized how much louder he was speaking and how you were trying not to cry out loud. He squeezes on your hands while he turns you; your back facing the opening of the kitchen where Katsuki has both twins hanging on his arms.

“What's wrong with Mama?!”

“Did you hurt my Mami?”

Izuku sweat-dropped at Iruki’s accusation, before looking down at your pleading (e/c) eyes and tear stricken face.

“It's ok,” He smiled his hero smile, ”Mommy was just a little nervous about sharing.”

He hugs you, slotting his mouth past your hair (if you have any) straight into your ear. “Share your problems with us baby, we’re a team, remember?” You were standing still even as he embraced you. You weren’t on board. which was a problem. He and Katsuki wouldn’t be able to execute their plan “For our kids. (Y/n). They need you (Y/n). We need you, baby.” Finally you collapse into him and return his hug. He looks up to Katsuki who gives him a knowing nod and hauls away the twins.

When the twins were sleeping you told your ex-husbands all about the proposal that was made by your boss.

“So the %#@$##@$* is trying to get you to sleep with him?”

“Kacchan!”

“Sorry. The poop-head wanted you at his place three hours ago?”

“...I was supposed to quickly drop them off but you know..”

“We’re gonna handle this babe, don’t worry about it.”

You tightly gripped your mug of (chocolate milk/tea/there is no in between). “You mean you’re going to….kill him?”

“Yeah.”

“Kacchan!”

“What?! You want me to keep beating around the bush? We all know what we have to do.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have to-”

“Are you guys sure this is our only option?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it babe, we’ll do this, you move in, and then we can focus on what really matters. Like why were both Iruki and Kazuki suspended from Kindergarten?”

“What?! I thought you pulled them out!”

“No, they apparently did something particularly questionable.”

“Kazuki?”

“Yes, him too.”

“What did they do? Is it something we need to work on? What-”

“According to the principal they both tied up the teacher, locked them in a closet, and broke into their snack cabinet, leading one of the kids to eat food that they were allergic to.”

“What did they eat?”

“Chocolate syrup and some pancake flour. Apparently their teacher has a taste for chocolate pancakes at the beginning of the day.”

“Oh Allmight! They must have gotten it from you, Kacchan, showing off spectacularly but going against the rules.”

“HEY! DON’T ACCUSE ME! BESIDES I NEVER BROKE THE RULES!”

“They may have been trying to do what you guys did when you took down that old LOV gangster. Adding insult to injury I happen to have a bit of a scuffle with their teacher…”

“Oh.”

“HA! My Rascals, I taught them those knots!”

“Kacchan!”

“Kat!”

_______________________________

When you woke up you could only remember some of what happened. It all came rushing back when you flipped the news on to find your boss had died from a maniacal butler’s murder-suicide. When the kids came running into your room they had explained how they were ‘so excited to have Momma over for their sleepovers’ and that they’d spend the day showing you all the cool stuff they did when they were at Daddy and Pop’s house. That's how the majority of your day went, only ending when your ex-husbands came home with a guy who introduced himself as your boss’ lawyer. He told you that you were entrusted more than a quarter of his fortune and his current estate. When you looked in shock and with furious intent at the two heroes they shrugged and you accepted your check and deed.

When the lawyer left. Katsuki with a curled lip and eyes of disappointment told you how the butler really did get to him before them and had been preparing to repay his victims and their families. Lucky you.

I didn't go into detail for this story but the real life situation is terrifying and confusing.

If you are struggling with a situation where you don't feel safe and can't reach out for help know that your not alone. You are worth it and you shouldn't short change yourself for anything. You can call this number if you need support: 1-800-656-4673

[astaroth1357]

Brothers Accidentally Make the MC Cry

Hello, this is the obligatory italics blurb that I have to put under my titles or else things look weird and it bothers me. Don’t mind the blurb. The blurb is a friend. (Though I could start writing pieces of a little story up here just to see if anyone even reads them… Hm…. Ideas, ideas...)

Warning: Angsty

Lucifer 

If he were being honest, he’d say that a part of him had always feared this would happen...

Lucifer likes to tell himself that he’s invincible, but everyday stresses can get to him just like anybody else. And like other people, he may not always act his best when he’s dealing with a full plate…

The MC hadn’t meant to make his day harder when they told him that they accidentally broke a lamp. It was a genuine accident! But Lucifer was still dealing with the fallout from another one of Mammon’s failed schemes, Satan had cursed all of his ties again, and Beel had eaten every scrap of food in the House… for the second time that week...

In comparison to everything else, a broken lamp was quite minor, but for Lucifer it was just the last straw and, for just a moment, he lost control…

His palm slamming against his desk hard enough to snap its legs and send it crashing to the ground. He scarcely knew what kind of look he had on his face, but whatever it was, he had made his human jump back in shock...

Really, it was silly for them to assume that he had gotten that upset over a lamp, but he saw tears starting to gather in their eyes all the same as they stammered out a quiet apology… 

It felt like an ice spike to the heart. Damn his temper… He really ought to have been more careful with them after… well, everything he’d done before…

He was quick to go over to them, catching their face with his hand and giving them the most sincere apology he could muster while wiping away their tears… Overreactions aren’t becoming of him and he hated to cause them pain… 

He, of course, took care of the lamp himself as penance and on the surface that seemed to be it (but to anyone paying attention, he had softened up on the MC considerably for at least a week. They probably could have sworn in front of Diavolo and he’d let it slide, he felt that bad about it...)

“I’m sorry, MC, I shouldn't have reacted like that… You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise… Please, there’s no need to cry…”

Mammon

Oh? What's that? His heart is now in a million pieces now...? Well, that seems fair…

He and the MC were out on one of his gambling nights and he was actually on a killer winning streak for once! Jackpots around every corner, he was rolling in it!

The MC had tried to convince him to just throw in the towel early, take his winnings while he had them and bail, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

In hindsight, their insistence must have really shown how much the MC cared about him and wanted him to keep his earnings... but in the heat of the moment all he saw was someone trying to spoil his one night of fun.

To be fair to Mammon, it’s rather rare for him to lose control of his anger like he did. But when they tried to pull him away from the roulette table, he genuinely snarled at them and told them to get lost...!

Fortunately, he regretted his actions immediately after he saw the hurt in their eyes…

If their goal had been to get him to step away from the table, they achieved it. But only because he got up to pull them into a hug while stammering out apologies… Watching them actually shed tears hurt worse than any rope Lucifer had ever tied around him...

He spent the rest of the night away from the casino and trying to cheer up his human like his life depended on it... Seeing them in pain just tore him up that much.

"Ah, come on MC… I'm sorry, honest…! Please don't look at me like that, I'll do whatever ya want okay...? Just no more cryin…"

Leviathan 

Now thinks he's the worst, literally the worst. Lower than lesser demon spit. Lower than Cerberus' shit. Lower than… well, you get the idea…

Levi can get very… intense when things involving his passions are brought up. This can be a fairly endearing quality… but it also means he gets disproportionately impassioned about seemingly minor things.

Levi ended up snapping at the MC when they let him over-sleep one day. This wasn’t unusual for them to do as Levi’s sleep schedule was notoriously shitty, but they shouldn't have done it that particular day…

An item he wanted on Akuzon was going to go live that morning and he had to be awake to participate in the bidding. He had mentioned it to the MC the day before, but he blew past it so quickly they didn’t actually remember…

He found out that he missed the bidding after he woke up and he was pissed. Genuinely enraged that they didn’t remember to wake him up to the point that he was shouting and baring his fangs! 

… Really it was not a good look and he should have known better.

The look of fear and the tears gathering in the MC’s eyes snapped him out of it like a hard slap to the face, and somehow, it stung even more than that would’ve... It wasn’t long before he was crying along with them, practically begging for forgiveness...

He made it up to them by having a private showing of their favorite movie using a projector in the Planetarium, cuddling with them under a blanket while still, occasionally, muttering apologies under his breath.

“M-MC…? MC don’t cry…!! Please don’t cry, I- I’m sorry!! I… MC… I’m so sorry…”

Satan

Like Lucifer, he always worried this would happen and he hated when it finally came to pass…

He’d spent all his life learning how to restrain his temper, but it’s not a perfect science. There are the occasional times where the heat of the moment gets the better of him and he does something he regrets…

The MC had walked in on him one morning while he was fuming about Beel leaving the fridge empty again. It hadn’t been the first time they’d seen him like this, but this time he was absolutely furious.

He had told Beel again and again and again to get his snacking under control or to, you know, get up early and get more food so the whole family wouldn’t spend the morning starving but noooo! Mr. I’m Hungry never thinks about anything but his own stomach and then leaves whoever’s on kitchen duty to pick up the slack like some dimwitted muscle-bound meathead and THEN-!!

When the MC tried to take his arm to calm him down, he jerked their hand away from him and roared right in their face. He may not be a lion, but the full sound of a pissed off demon could make humans have breakdowns all on its own…

Which was more or less what the MC began to do as he gripped their wrist, panicking while taking shallow, stuttered breaths…

Satan's anger left him swiftly and he let them go, only reaching out to touch them again when he tried to wipe the tears from their cheeks… He had to coo and beg for them to calm down, which was only so successful because he was fighting back tears himself… 

On a scale of 1-10 of the worse things his temper has ever done, he'd rank this a firm 200... He refused to touch them for about a week afterwards and it took a long time for him to trust himself again… He just didn't want to hurt them...

"MC?? MC…? M… Oh no… MC, I'm so sorry, I would never hurt you! I… I wouldn't dare… please believe me..."

Asmodeus 

Oh baby! Sweetheart! Love of his life!! No, please no… don't subject him to this…

MC and Asmo were out dancing and some witch came by to try and flatter him.

Now, Asmo is a flirt normally, but get a few drinks in him and well… Let's just say his love of attention overrides his better judgment far more often than it should and friends don't let friends go home with creepy witches.

When the MC told the witch to scram, Asmo was confused and, frankly, quite irritated. That lovely lady had been stroking his ego in all the right ways and his human just scared her off so rudely!

Under most situations, Asmo would have kept his cool better but the haze of Demonus made his tongue loose... which let the venom fly…

He couldn’t quite remember what he said. The words left his mouth so quickly that they slurred together on his clumsy tongue, but it must have been enough because the MC flinched away from him.

That hurt all on its own, but as he started to process the pain in their eyes… he had never sobered up so fast...

He had their cheeks cupped in his hands and were kissing away their tears within the instant. Though the loud music at the club should have drowned out his apologies, the MC could see it written all over his equally tearful face…

He pulled them into his arms and then out of the club shortly after, the fog of Demonus that plagued him just moments before had long left him and all he knew was that the MC needed to be brought home and cuddled… stat.

“M-MC…? I’m sorry was it something… did I…? I’m so sorry… Please don’t cry…!”

Beelzebub 

He really didn't mean to shout so loud… honest... 

Beel becomes a completely different person when he’s hungry. He’s not entirely to blame, as his hunger can get so intense, but he still can snap from time to time when he really doesn’t mean to…

It was right after one of his practices and Beel hadn’t gotten a chance to eat in a few hours by the time the MC came to grab him from RAD. That already had him in a bad mood, but practice hadn’t gone too well for him either… 

He honestly didn’t realize how sharply he snapped at the MC when they asked him how he was. The irritation and frustration of the day all hit him at once and he became much harsher towards them than he ever intended…

It must have been the shock of seeing ever-sweet Beel suddenly get so aggressive with them that startled them so. He saw a couple tears gathering in their eyes before they could hide them and his heart just sank…

The MC was picked up in a crushing bear hug before they even let out their first sniffle. Beel didn’t even have to say how sorry he was, they could feel it in every squeeze he gave them. All while he completely ignored the growling of his stomach...

Beel wouldn’t let them go until he was certain they’d forgiven him which, honestly, took a while. Mammon was the one to ask why he had carried them all the way back to the House like a baby but… well, he didn’t need to know, now did he?

“MC, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have shouted… Are you alright...?”

Belphegor 

Stubborn boi is stubborn and trying really, really hard not to crack right now...

That's not going to last long.

Belphie can be a bit of a brat and since he's the baby of the family so he's used to getting his way. He and the MC don't argue a ton, but when they do, he always digs his heels in and refuses to budge an inch on anything.

So what started out as a simple disagreement on how often Belphie would flake out on his chores turned into a kick-the-door-down argument over how much his laziness left the MC to pick up the slack...

It ended as all their barn burning arguments do, with demon-form Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed refusing to look at them and the MC angrily pacing about the room until he cools off…

And then he heard it.

First a sniffle… and then a hiccup. Another sniffle then muffled whine…

Oh no… not this… Why are they crying…? They don't normally cry…

To his credit (or perhaps discredit), he managed to hold out for about two minutes before he finally glanced back at them. Seeing the MC wiping their tears all alone on the floor crumbled his resolve real quick.

The MC found themselves enveloped by Belphie's arms before they even noticed he got up. Naturally, he was pouting and trying to make it seem like "not a big deal or anything" but they could tell by the nervous twitch of his tail that he was hurting too…

Needless to say. Belphie started remembering his chores a lot more after that.

"Humans are so fragile… I didn't mean to make you cry, you know? I'll get things done just… Don't cry… please…"

[pan-fangirl-345]

He Would Tear the World Apart

Summary: During a raid, you're taken hostage. Shouto doesn't take the news well, and will do anything to get you back.

TW: kidnapping, abuse, alcoholism mentioned, Enji Todoroki's bad parenting, mental torture, dissociating, injuries, blood, angst, mentioned character death (no one actually dies), a lot of swearing, chains, starvation, dehydration, that sort of thing. If there's anything I missed, please let me know! Also, there is a happy ending, so it's angst to fluff!

A/N: First and foremost, I have no medical degree, I have no idea what it's like to dissociate, so anything medically incorrect is because I am not a doctor, though I am currently working on getting my psychology degree. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, that was not the intention. I have no idea what went through my head to make me write all of this in an hour, but here you go. Also, please read the trigger warnings, and if you don't like it, don't read it. Anyway, I might make a part two to this if anyone is interested. Feel free to spam my ask box, or slide into my DM's if you want. Please interact with me, I adore you all.

Aizawa sighed as he stepped into the conference room. He sat down heavily in his usual seat, and Nezu climbed onto his shoulder, as was custom after so many years, despite the situation they were in.

Again.

"As you have all heard, one of the second year students, (Y/N), has been taken. She was last seen on a raid with the hero she was studying under, and we haven't heard anything from her since this transmission."

Nezu pressed play on a recording and her voice floated through the air.

She was panting, and she was whispering, but Aizawa knew that it was her.

"To anyone receiving this transmission, this is hero-in-training Tempest, I'm pursuing the criminals associated with the gang 'The Numerals'. I've been separated from the others and my comms have been compromised by one of the members. Please, send back-up."

There was a pause where all they could hear was her breathing, and suddenly she yelled, "Hey! You, stop!"

There was static, and then there was nothing.

"We have received information from one of our recon teams that they have taken her to their base of operations, though we don't know exactly where that is yet. We have also, as a school, received a ransom demand. Her parents have yet to be contacted about this."

Copies of the notes were handed out to the teachers, and they all frowned, clearly thinking the same thing Aizawa had thought.

They were a school, what kind of school had this kind of money sitting around?

"What is the girl's quirk?"

"She can create different types of storms in her hands," Aizawa supplied. "As of the end of last year, she could make a hurricane for a few minutes at a time, sometimes a dust storm, and I know for a fact that she was undergoing training over the summer, so it might be more than that now. Under extreme duress, she can make a full scale electrical storm in a building or outside, but only if her life is threatened."

"So, not helpful for getting out of this kind of situation?" one of the other teachers chirped and Aizawa nodded.

"No," he agreed. "Though we should be checking for any strange storms and freak electrical spikes."

"Do any of the other students know about this?" Hizashi asked.

"No, and we need to keep it that way," Aizawa told his husband.

"Why?" Vlad King asked.

"(Y/N) is Todoroki Shouto's girlfriend," Aizawa replied, then waited for that to sink in before he continued. "If he finds out that she's gone, or that's she's been kidnapped and harmed . . . ." He shook his head a few times before he added, "He would tear the world apart to get her back."

"Fuck," someone mumbled, and Aizawa nodded.

Pretty much everyone that was at U.A. knew what that girl meant to Shouto, not to mention the people at Endeavor's agency, and the one that (Y/L/N) was working with.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Midnight asked.

"We plan a rescue mission," Nezu said. "We're working with nearly every police force in the country to try and figure out where they're keeping her. We have a rough area," he clicked onto a photo of a map, one area to the far north highlighted in bright red. "But there's nothing we can do until then, we need a warrant and evidence."

"The life of a child isn't enough?" Midnight asked. "Especially such a beautiful girl?"

Everyone went quiet, the mood somber and heavy.

"Aizawa, you spent more time with this girl than anybody," one of the third year teachers said, "how likely is it that she'll find a way out on her own?"

"It's a possibility," Aizawa admitted. "She's a very capable student, on par with Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugou, but they know what she can do. Not to mention that sources tell us she was injured, though we aren't sure to what extent. And the longer she spends with them is more time Shouto has to figure out what's happening. Not to mention the other students. We need to get her out as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Hizashi added.

It was no secret that Present Mic and Eraserhead had both taken a liking to you when you were in Class 1-A, all of the teachers liked you, and you were a solid foundation for your classmates.

You were a calm presence, and everyone, Bakugou included, had gone to you for advice at some point, though it was all for different reasons.

You tend to be a level-headed person, but when you felt strongly about something, nothing was going to stop you.

People, Shouto mainly, would start to sense the lack of your presence, and Aizawa wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted you back where you belonged.

"We can't keep him, Shouto I mean, in the dark about this," Hizashi murmured. "He's one of the best up and coming heroes."

"Not to mention," Aizawa added, "that we plan on flooding the streets with her photo. We've already sent it to all of the major hero agencies involved with the search, Endeavor's being one of them. If we don't tell him, his father will, and we all know how volatile that relationship is."

Everyone in the room shuddered at the mention of the father and son duo and nodded.

"Aizawa, All Might, it might be better if you both told him," Nezu said. "You both have the best relationship with him in this room, and you might be the only two that could hold him back if he reacts violently."

"And he will," Aizawa mumbled, already standing from his chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shouto knew something was wrong.

He hadn't seen or heard from you in two days, almost three, and the teachers were acting suspicious. There were fewer of them in the halls, and Aizawa was even more tired than usual, with dark worry bags under his eyes that the students hadn't seen since the Bakugou Debacle in their first year.

The last he had heard, you were going on a raid for some gang members that were selling some sort of hallucinogenic drug based off of a mirage quirk.

You hadn't contacted him or come back since.

"Young Shouto, can we speak to you for a moment?" All Might asked, making everyone look up from what they were doing.

Despite the dorms no longer being completely necessary, (the League had backed off a little bit in recent days, and there hadn't been very many Nomu attacks lately), most of Class 1-A, now 2-A, had moved into the dorms for their second year, you and Shouto included.

"Does this have to do with (Y/F/N)?" he asked, standing quickly.

"Unfortunately, yes," Aizawa said, voice somber.

"Todoroki, do you want us to come with you?" Midoriya asked, getting that look on his face.

"If it's about (Y/F/N) then they all deserve to know too," Shouto said. "And I would feel better knowing they were here."

"Of-Of course," All Might replied, glancing at Aizawa nervously.

"(Y/L/N) has been kidnapped and is being held hostage as we speak," he told them, as blunt as ever.

Aizawa ripped his goggles off right before Shouto blew.

One half of his body erupted into blue tinted flames, and the other exploded in a rain of ice, but they evaporated quickly under Aizawa's gaze, and before any damage could be done to the dorms.

Everything went dark in his head, and his feet were moving before he even had a chance to fully process what his former teachers had been saying to him.

"And where do you think you're going?" Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow as he moved to intercept him.

"To find her," Shouto snarled, and he didn't even recognize his own voice. It was several octaves lower than normal, and there was a rasp to it that had never been there before. "To get my girlfriend back."

"You don't even know where she is," Aizawa said. "We don't even know where she is. Besides, you're too emotionally involved."

"Too emotionally involved?" Shouto said, his voice too calm, his eyes too dead.

Everyone in the room took a step away from him. Everyone except Midoriya and Bakugou.

"Too emotionally involved?" he repeated.

"Oh shit," someone whispered, though Shouto didn't know who it was.

"That is my girlfriend. That is the love of my life and you're telling me that I can't get her back because . . . I'm too emotionally involved? What about when Midoriya went to get Eri? Was he too 'emotionally involved'?"

No one dared to point out that it was nowhere near the same thing, but there was a collective thought about it in the room.

"That is my fucking girlfriend out there," he snapped. "I will work harder than anyone to get her back. I will be the one person wholly invested in making sure that she stays safe."

"And that is why you can't be one of the people in on this," Aizawa told him. "The others are her friends, but you? You are way more than that, and that means that when it comes down to it, you can't make a clear-headed decision on whether it's worth it to try and grab her or not. Because she'll always be worth it to you."

"Damn right she will," Shouto said, staring Aizawa down.

No one had heard Shouto swear this much at once, if ever, depending on the person. He was starting to sound like Bakugou, and the others knew immediately that if you weren't back soon, he was going to blow.

"Look kid, I understand," Aizawa muttered. "I really do. I understand how you feel, I would do that same thing for Hizashi, but I also know what I would do, and we can't have that in the investigation. What would (Y/F/N) want?"

"She would want to be here!" Shouto shouted. "She would want to be teasing Bakugou in the kitchen, making sure that everyone had a blanket for movie night. She would want to be curled up with me on the couch watching bad romance movies that the girls cheated their way into picking out and making sure that I-!"

Shouto stopped as the emotions got lodged in his throat. Tears threatened to spill over as his vision got blurry, and the others were there to catch him as his knees gave out on him.

"We'll get her back kid," Aizawa assured him, crouching down, touching the top of his head softly. "We will get her back."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your head was buzzing as you came back to consciousness and you suppressed a groan of pain.

Consciousness hurt.

You did a short mental tally of your injuries.

Your ribs were definitely a little bruised, if not cracked or broken. Your lips were split in at least four different places each. One shoulder was definitely dislocated, and the other was hurt in some way. Your left ankle was bruised and swollen, broken probably. Your head probably had a huge gash if the blood running down the side of your face was anything to go by, and you were definitely concussed on some level.

Apparently getting your head slammed into solid concrete by someone who had launched themselves off a ledge would do that to you.

You were in what looked like a basement of some sort. The walls were solid concrete, there were pipes running overhead and dripping on you randomly, which wasn't appreciated, and there was insulation and plaster showing through here and there.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty?"

Your head whipped around to see your kidnapper, but your head protested and so did your stomach, despite the fact that there was nothing in it.

You suppressed a groan, trying to keep your stomach where it belonged.

"Ready to tell us who the informant is?"

"Go straight to hell," you muttered, when you were certain you wouldn't throw up on yourself, glaring at them.

"I still can't believe you were fucking stupid enough to kidnap a child! She doesn't know shit," the other man snapped at the first.

"She has to know something!" the first guy snapped. "She was in on the raid!"

His quirk allowed him to change his voice, so he wasn't using the real one, he sounded like a guy that smoked twenty packs of cigarettes a day.

The other guy you had started calling Sandy in your head. His quirk was similar to yours, he was able to turn anything he touched into sand, and then use it. He mostly made sand storms, and that's how they had gotten the jump on you in the tunnels.

One had blinded you while the other had carried you away, much to chagrin of the Sandy.

"I'm in training," you rasped. "I'm hero-in-training Tempest, from Class 2-A at the school U.A."

They hadn't given you anything to drink in the last two days, from what you could even remember of it, and you knew that you weren't going to last much longer, having been dehydrated when they had taken you.

They had kidnapped you from the raid site, and then spent six hours driving around like morons trying to cover their tracks, before driving for an unknown amount of time before they had dumped you in here. You had been unconscious for the secondary part of the drive, and you knew that with everything going on, there was the possibility you were experiencing retrograde amnesia.

"They don't tell me the important stuff like that. I get told when we're going on raids, and what my part in them is, and that's on the very rare occasion that they happen during my shifts. Most of the time, I'm on patrols around the city," you told them, taking a break in your little speech to spit blood onto the floor by your leg. "You need directions, I'm your girl, but you need to know who's a rat, sorry, I can't help."

You would've shrugged, but your arms were chained to the wall behind you, and every time you moved your right arm it made an awful clicking noise that you knew wasn't natural. Your left shoulder was dislocated as well, meaning your arms were pretty much useless.

One leg was operational, but barely. You were so far out of commission you wouldn't be surprised if U.A. kicked you out to recuperate.

U.A. wouldn't, and couldn't, pay the ransom. You knew that. The best hope you had was that you could act your way out of this, or that they planned a raid to get you out.

They had done it for Bakugou, why not you, right?

Shouto passed through your thoughts, thoughts about what he might do to get you back, but you shut them down as soon as they entered your head.

You were trying to keep him in a safe place.

You hoped that Shouto never learned about this. About where they were keeping you, what they had already done to try and get you to talk.

He was your safe place now, safe and away from this building, wherever you were. You thought maybe if you could keep him out of your head here, it was a way of protecting him from the reality of your situation, even if he already knew.

"She's a kid," Sandy snarled, pointing at you viciously. "She's a kid. You know the Boss' rules about kids and you broke almost every one of them!"

"Yeah, well-"

"Guys, hey, I hate to interrupt," you interjected, "but I really have to go to the bathroom."

They both stared at you for a moment before Sandy asked, "Do you promise to not try and escape?"

"Buddy, I don't know if you've looked recently, but I doubt I'm doing anywhere," you quipped. "My ankle is obviously demolished, my head was cracked open like an egg, thanks to your buddy Darth Vader over there. Not to mention, I'm dehydrated and starving, and don't even get me started on how much my ribs are killing me right now, probably literally. Do I look like I'm in any shape to try and escape?"

Sandy frowned, glancing at you like this was the first time he was seeing the extent of what had been done to you.

"Alright, I'm going to undo the chains, but you can't try to escape, you'll only make things worse for yourself."

"Death seems preferable at this point," you grunted, trying to hide the pain you were in.

"Don't you have healing supplies?"

"How am I supposed to use them when I can't move my fucking arms?" you asked, wiggling your fingers in emphasis. "And you morons confiscated my belt, which had them all in it! You know what my quirk is! What did you think was in it? Explosives? No, I leave that to Dynamight."

"Fuck," Sandy muttered.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" the voice dude asked.

"Because if she dies then that means no money and no chance of surviving prison again. Do you know what happens to people who mess with kids in prison? Nothing good."

You logged that little piece of information away, trying to focus on their features, but with your concussion, your eyes weren't the hottest.

"Can you move?" Sandy asked you as he worked on unlocking your chains.

You couldn't help the cry of pain when your arms dropped to your sides, tearing stinging your eyes as you bit into your already roughed up lip.

"Shit. Can we get a medic in here?" Sandy shouted.

A door opened and someone stuck their head in. Sandy repeated his demand, and the door shut again.

"Why are you doing this?" you whimpered, trying to keep your voice even.

If they were sadists, any fear or pain you showed only gave them what they wanted.

"Because we don't have a choice," Sandy said. "The Boss gave us somewhere to belong, he gave us a place off the streets. We owe him. We would've died."

"Shut up," Smoker snapped, and you glanced at him.

"I have a headache, and it comes and goes as you talk. Please, for the love of all things holy, shut up," you hissed to Darth Vader, wanting to touch your head, but not being able to for multiple reasons.

Sandy touched your shoulder lightly and you cried out again, moving automatically to hit him, but your other arm twinged, bringing more tears to your eyes.

"Sorry," Sandy murmured, pulling his hands away.

You took a shaky breath, waiting for the pain to dull before you said, "There's no way I'm moving from this spot without being in pain, and I'm definitely going to need help."

"Holy fuck, you two morons were two lucky blows away from killing her."

You glanced over to see someone with a med kit strolling leisurely down the stairs.

"Hello Tempest," they said, giving you a bright smile.

"Hello Med Kit," you replied, giving them a grimace.

"You can call me Himo for now," Med Kit said. "Do you mind if I take a look?"

"You're going to whether I want you or not, but sure, go ahead," you muttered. "It's not really like you can make this any worse."

"I could break almost every bone in your body and keep you alive while doing it, so I could do so much worse, but that's not the goal here," Himo told you, setting to work.

"So what is the goal? Since I'm assuming that I'm never going to get out of here," you said, glancing around.

"Why do you think that?" Himo asked, ignoring your first question.

"Because I've seen your faces, I know your quirks, I know a general area of where I'm being kept, unless someone used a teleportation quirk of some sort. I know the school won't pay the ransom, my parents don't have that kind of money, and my boyfriend's father would never pay to see me safe and sound. He would probably twist his son's grief to get him to be compliant," you grumbled. "Besides, I'm a hero, hero-in-training, whatever, it's all semantics. I'm basically your arch-nemesis. Isn't that what every villain wants? To kill the person in their way?"

"We aren't villains," Sandy muttered.

"You break laws put in place to protect people, you attacked a minor, then kidnapped her after assaulting her, and you are trying to get a ransom for me," you pointed out. "That doesn't really scream 'hero' or 'civilian' to me."

"Have you ever though about who writes the rules? About how money can manipulate everything? The system is flawed, and we are going to make sure people know it," Darth Vader snarled. "Do you understand how unfair the world is?"

"Don't talk to me about the world being unfair," you whispered, your voice dropping, every muscle in your body tensing. "My boyfriend loves his mother more than pretty much anyone in the world. Her parents, his grandparents, arranged a quirk marriage, and she had four children she didn't necessarily want. Her husband drove her to near insanity, enough so that she poured a kettle of boiling water over my boyfriend's face because he looks like his father. His father has already managed to get one of his children killed, and he considers the other rejects because they don't have the quirk he wanted them to have. He's a different kind of monster, and he's not in jail.

"My own father verbally and mentally abused me for as long as I can remember. My mother and I were zombies until recently, when I decided I had had enough and my mother finally found the courage and will to leave his sorry ass in the gutters where it belongs. My father always had enough alcohol in his system to make him a human molotov cocktail. I had little to no self esteem until recently, and I still struggle to understand and comprehend that I am worth love. I am still learning to respect myself. So you don't get to preach to me about how unfair the world is buddy, we all know," you snarled.

"The hundreds, thousands of kids out on the street know. The women and men that get raped, and continue to see their own personal monster roam free know. The kids that get hit every day for not being what their parents want know. That's why people like me exist, to put away the monsters wearing human skin. That's why my friends and I try so hard to be heroes. It's not about the glory, or the money. It's about bring people to justice, it's about making sure that people feel safe. It's about giving other people something that we never had."

Silence echoed through the room as what you said sank in.

You hadn't meant to burst like that, but you were sick and tired of these guys using their shitty lives to make other people's lives shitty too.

"Why are you a hero, Tempest?" Himo asked.

"Because I want to save people," you replied. "I just told you that. I want to make sure that every child like me knows that they don't have to be their parents, that there is another option. I don't want the abused becoming the abuser. I want to make sure that the people doing the bad things get put where they belong. I want to help the kids that have nothing to lose, I want to help them realize that they have everything to gain. I want to give people like you hope."

There was no use in lying to them, they were probably going to kill you anyway. Besides, it might help you build rapport, and they might let you go when they realized that they made a mistake.

"People like us?"

"People who think that there isn't another option. People who have been shown nothing but the horrid parts of the world, the horrible parts of humanity. People who don't know what it's like to be loved completely by somebody, both good and bad. People who think that they owe someone who isn't worth one minute of their time. Good people who strayed too far from the path."

There was silence for a few minutes before you said, "I've seen a lot of real villains, people who aren't capable of basic human emotions, I've seen people who have no humanity in their eyes. They are the villains, they are the monster under our beds personified. People like you, you just simply wandered. You aren't lost, you're just further to the side than some other people. It would be easy for you to walk the path again."

You paused, thinking over what you said, then added, "Well, it wouldn't be easy necessarily, but it would be worth it."

"You still have the naivety of a child," Vader snarled.

"Call me what you want, naive, innocent, optimistic, I've heard it all, but in the end, I'm right," you told him.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because, at the end of the day, I know that every life I save isn't just one life," you replied. "That young woman I saved, she might have kids some day, or foster a child that needs a loving mother. That child I shoved out of the way might help the suicidal child in his class. Every life I save touches other people's lives. As hard as it is to believe, no one is ever truly alone in the world. Every smile I give to a stranger might make their day, might help them live long enough to find the thing that makes them happy. That's why I'm a hero."

More silence.

Your face heated, but there was something in their faces that told you they had never thought about it that way before.

"So, is there anything you can do to heal me?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Like I said, these guys were two lucky blows away from killing you, I'm surprised that you're still alive, actually, everything considered. Your head will heal on it's own, but there might be a little scar left. However, your ribs might take longer. Three are cracked, and four are bruised. Your ankle might need surgery to get it back to the way it was. It's definitely broken, and there might be small bone particles floating around in there, I'm not entirely sure, my quirk isn't that detailed I'm afraid. Not to mention that, from what I can see, your shoulders just need to be popped back into place. One was dislocated more than the other, but it will hurt."

"Can't hurt worse than the state I'm in now. So what can you do? I'm assuming that taking me to a hospital is out of the question."

"Well, I can treat the cut on your head, relocate your shoulders, and I can see if someone else can take a look at your ankle, but everything else will have to heal on it's own."

"So there isn't much?"

"Nope, we don't have the equipment needed for your ankle here, and, like you said, no hospitals."

"Fucking gre- wait a minute, to you guys still have my belt?" you asked, perking up a little.

"Yeah, it's over here," Sandy said, walking over into the back corner, pulling your med belt out.

"Hand it over. I promise there's nothing too harmful in there. There are some painkillers, but it's just Midol. It's all medical stuff," you said, wincing as Sandy dropped it into your lap.

You opened it, taking out a small device.

"What does that thing even do?" Himo asked, looking at it warily.

"It's not a communicator or anything," you hurried to explain. "I made some friends in the support courses, so I asked if they could make me a device that works like an X-ray would. Himo, take it."

He took from you gently, which you appreciated, and turned it all around, trying to figure out how it worked.

"Alright, see that little button on the top left, yeah, right there. Click that button twice, like hitting the home button of a phone."

Himo did as he was told, and the screen blinked to life.

"Alright, hold the over my hurt ankle, and it should be able to show what's going on. Or," you added, "it'll blow up. Hatsume is kind of unpredictable like that."

Himo's hands tightened on it, but he did what you asked, and was clearly surprised when a detailed X-ray appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit, it worked!" you cheered, grinning.

"You have some very talented friends," Himo told you.

"I know right? She's a little quirky, but she's great at what she does!"

"How are you able to smile right now?" Sandy asked, looking at you with something akin to wonder.

"Don't get me wrong," you started. "I'm fucking terrified, but there's not much I can do in this situation. Besides, from what I can tell, other than the initial assault, you people don't want to hurt me. You want something from me. In this scenario, what I'm guessing, is that you want something from me, so you're going to be nice, and make me want to help you out, or make me feel like I owe you one, and then, when I don't comply, you'll either torture me to try and get what you want until I die, or you'll just kill me right off the bat."

Himo winced, and Sandy twitched.

"You guys really hate the thought of me dying, don't you?" you asked, cocking your head to the side, despite the protect of your brain. "Is this one of those scenarios where kids should be off limits?"

"We may be bad guys, but we have certain priorities," Sandy admitted. "Kids are a sore spot for most of us."

You nodded slightly. "I can see why. You guys said something about being on the streets? I know that sometimes kids band together, that's how they survive. I'm assuming you've lost friends."

"Smart kid," Himo murmured, eyes darting over the X-ray.

"Sometimes they give us profile training," you admitted. "Besides, I've been working on my psychology degree."

"Wicked smart kid," Sandy quipped.

"Alright, so I can set your ankle, there isn't anything wrong with it other than the obvious fact that it's broken," Himo said, handing the device back to you. "Riko, I'm gonna need your help."

"With what?" Sandy asked, looking skeptical.

"Can you hold her legs down? I need to relocate her shoulders before I do anything with her ankle, just because I have a feeling she attacks when she's hurt."

"Good instincts," you muttered.

"I'm a doctor," he confessed, grinning. "You learn a thing or two."

"Sorry about this," Sandy said.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," you told him. "As long as that's all you do I'll considerate your way of trying to make up from everything else."

Sandy snorted, holding your legs just below your knees.

"This is going to hurt," Himo warned.

"I would be surprised if it-"

You clenched your teeth to try and keep your scream in as Himo popped your right arm back into place.

The rest of your body bucked, trying to roll away, but Sandy, Riko, had a firm hold on you.

You panted as the pain started to fade a little in your arm.

"Sorry, I've found it works better when people aren't expecting it," he said.

"Son of a bitch," you gritted out, spitting blood off to the side. "I bit my tongue."

Riko chuckled, shaking his head.

"Alright, now for the other one," Himo murmured. "I really don't understand how you managed to take this much damage."

"At least I only broke my ankle. My friend Deku has broken both arms, both legs, and both hands before. I think he's broken almost every bone in his body sa-"

Himo popped your other arm back into place and you couldn't stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks at that one, your jaw almost cracking with how hard you clenched it to try and keep the noises in.

"Fucking fuck," you muttered when the pain pulsed into something a little bit more bearable.

"Better?" Himo asked, prodding your shoulders.

"Yeah," you admitted, moving them slowly. You dug around in your med belt, pulling out two pieces of metal and a small bottle.

"What is that for?" Himo asked.

You pushed a button on the metal, and they extended to the required length.

"It's for a splint, or a cast," you told him. "Once you set my ankle, you put the metal on either side, and I can spray this one. It's a special kind of plaster, don't ask me how it works, I have no idea what's in it, but it'll hold until my ankle is fully healed, then it'll fall off on it's own."

"Amazing!"

"Heroes, when the respond to disasters, often have to set up triages until other emergency responders can arrive, so we have to know a little bit about basic medical treatments in emergencies like that. So a lot of us have belts and such to keep medical stuff in. I also keep duct tape and glue in here. You never know when you're gonna need it."

You pulled out some painkillers, popping two in your mouth, taking them dry.

"How?" Vader asked, sounding horrified.

"Hate to break it to you, but when you're a teenage girl, especially one learning to be a hero, when you don't always have time for water, you learn to take pills dry."

"TMI," Vader muttered.

"Hey, jackass, you asked," you told him.

Riko and Himo chuckled.

"Alright. Riko, see if you can get a hold on her, this is gonna hurt like a bitch," Himo warned. "Li, hold her other leg down."

"Don't use my fucking name!" Vader shouted.

"You know, I wouldn't have known that was your real name if you hadn't reacted that way," you told him. "Heroes are also trained to pick up on certain behaviors like that."

Li grumbled, but did as he was asked.

Himo situated himself, then said, "Get ready."

The pain had you blacking out before you knew what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I knew something was wrong," Shouto muttered for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. "I should have gone with her!"

"Dude, it wasn't even your mission," Kaminari told him. "There was nothing you could've done for her."

"Yeah you half-and-half bastard," Bakugou chimed in. "Besides, we're gonna get her back, so shut up and try and think of something useful."

Everyone had leapt into action when it had sunk in that you were in serious danger. It didn't take long, and no one wanted to acknowledge that it was worrisome.

They had split up into teams.

Midoriya, Bakugou, Shouto, Kaminari, and Kirishima were working on the maps that had been given to the students.

Momo, Jirou, Uraraka, Mina, and Tsuyu were going over the interviews with raid members, trying to gather up information on what had happened, trying to see if there was a traitor among them, other than the undercover agent that they had been told about.

Tokoyami, Ojiro, Shoji, Sero, and Koda were helping the other heroes do recon missions and patrols in the area where they suspected you were being held.

Sato, Shinso, Hagaruke, and Iida were working on the case files of all the known members of the gang that you had been going after. Surprisingly, those four were the only ones able to hear about the things that some of the gang members had done.

Hagakure was crying softly to herself as she read, but no one could pull her away from the files.

"I have to know," she kept saying. "I need to know about what they did so I can help when we get her back."

Sato didn't know you as well as the others did, so he was a little less effected. He were itching to get you back, but the others had spent far more time with you personally.

Shinso, on the other hand, was powering through them, wanting to know what he had to avenge when they got to that building. He wanted to know what they might be doing to you so that he could have far more reason to get them arrested.

Iida just wanted something useful to do.

"They just cleared building seven in section 3-C!" Aoyama called from his spot the progress computer that they had set up in the common room.

Aoyama was in charge of letting them know what had been cleared, what was under suspicion, and what they had ruled out completely.

"Fuck, that pretty much clears that grid section," Bakugou muttered, forcefully crossing an abandoned apartment building off his map.

"They might need to expand their net," Midoriya added. "No one knows where she is. There's the possibility that they aren't even in that area."

"I hate this!" Shouto burst out. "I feel useless just sitting here!"

"It's either this or you get stuck back on the sidelines," Bakugou reminded him and he clenched his fists.

He just wanted you back safe and sound by his side, preferably with his arm around your shoulders.

He'd been trying to remember the last thing he said to you before you had gone on that raid, but he couldn't remember.

He hoped that it was 'I love you' or something similar, but not knowing was killing him.

"Todoroki-kun," Midoriya said, laying a hand on his arm. "We will get her back."

"Yeah, we aren't giving up on her, no way in hell," Kaminari added, eyes flashing gold in the lights of the common room.

"She never gave up on us, it's not manly for us to give up on her," Kirishima chimed in.

"I know," Shouto said. "I trust you all."

It went unsaid, but understood, that when it came time to get her back, Shouto was going to be the one leading the rescue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Himo came into the basement and said, "Do you think you can walk?"

"On one leg maybe. Why?" you asked.

Your ankle was wrapped in the cast that you had taken out, but your ankle was feeling a little better than it had been. It still throbbed every once in a while, but it could've been worse.

"The boss wants to see you."

"Oh, the big boss," you griped, rolling your eyes. "He wants to see me he can come down here himself."

Himo hesitated, but he nodded, heading back upstairs.

You had known that there was an undercover agent in the gang, but you had yet to figure out who it was.

Every member of the gang seemed to know that you were there, that, or they were much bigger than you had anticipated.

So far, Himo and Riko were your top two suspicions, given that they were the only two that were actually kind to you, but you had a small part of you that wasn't sure.

The door opening a few minutes later announced the arrival of the leader, and you steeled yourself.

"You fucking morons," the man muttered, rubbing his eyes like he had a headache. "What did I say about kids?"

"Sorry Boss, but we didn't have a choice," Li said, stepping out of the shadows.

He had been stay with you for the entire week, and it was clear that you didn't have the kind of rapport with him that you did with Riko and Himo.

You had been trying to make a storm, something, to let the someone know where you were, but you had idea of knowing whether it was working or not. You were in the experimental stages of the large storm capabilities of your quirk, and you were completely drained at the moment.

"What's your name kid?" the man asked.

His hands were covered in rings, and scars littered the little bit of skin his tailored suit showed off.

You had seen Shouto in high class clothes for gatherings that he was required by social convention to attend, so this guy was either rich, or so far into debt that he was on the run from the banks.

"You can call me Tempest," you said.

"(Y/N). Second year at U.A. Class 2-A student, and one of the new public favorites," Li said.

"Aw, you looked me up, how sweet," you taunted. "But like I said, I prefer Tempest, it sounds cooler."

"Far enough," the boss said.

He was wearing a mask that covered the top half of his face, and a fedora type hat, so there wasn't much to catalog, but you did anyway.

"Are you here to kill me?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, despite the way it made the chains rattle.

"No, not if you give me what I want," the man said. His voice was deep, and he looked like he was in his early thirties, but you weren't entirely sure.

"I don't know who your rat is," you stated.

"How do you know that's what I wanted?"

"When I woke up on day two, your Sandy man and Darth Vader over there were talking about it. Vader actually asked me about it." You paused, then said, "You guys do realize that I'm right under an intern right? I'm not high enough to know about UC's. Think of me like the intern's intern. I'm lucky I even got to go on the raid."

The man watched your for a moment before he said, "I hate it when people tell me the truth. It means I don't get to have any fun."

"Sucks to be you then," you replied. "So what happens now?"

"You get broken," the man said, reaching out to touch your forehead.

"Good luck with that," you muttered when he pulled away.

Then the visions started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Everybody get up!" Aoyama shouted. "Up, up, up! Someone called in a noise complaint late last night!"

Class 2-A poured into the common room.

Shouto, Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero ran in with no shirts on, and Kaminari fell trying to pull his shorts up over his Pikachu boxers. Shinso was already in there sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee clad in a t-shirt with a cat meme and dark jeans.

The girls poured in in a mix of pajamas and hoodies that they had stolen from the boys over the last week, their hair a mess and dark bags under their eyes.

"What's going on?" Shouto asked. He knew that his bags were darker than anyone's, and no one had seen him sleep in almost three days.

"Late last night someone called the tip line anonymously to complain about screaming from a condemned building smack dab in the middle of section 1-A. Someone checked into it and there has been a lot of activity in that area lately," Aoyama explained.

He had given up trying to keep up the sparkly attitude, though some of the French had stayed.

"Is there anything else?"

"Guess which gang has been operating in the middle of that area?" Shinso said, having stayed up with the sparkly blond.

"The Numerals," Shouto said.

"Tres bein!" Aoyama replied.

"Have the heroes been notified?"

"They started a conference at three this morning," Shinso said.

"And no one told us?" Shouto asked.

"They wanted to let us sleep. They know how hard we've been working," Shinso replied.

"I'll sleep when we get her back," Shouto snapped, heading for the conference room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aizawa shouldn't have been surprised when his former students streamed into the meeting that was being held to rescue (Y/L/N), but he was.

Though that might have been because most of the boys were shirtless and the girls were clad in their pajamas, and hoodies that were clearly not theirs.

"Catch us up," Shouto demanded.

"Shouto, what are you-"

"Shouto, you are aware that this is merely to scope out the building, correct?" Aizawa interrupted, glancing at his former class.

"We don't fucking care," Bakugou snarled. "You're going to catch us up, and you're going to let us join, because she's our friend, and we're the strongest team that you could ask for."

"We can't, in good conscience, let kids into-"

"Do we need to mention all the times that the League has attacked us in the last year? Not to mention Gentle Criminal, Stain, the whole Chisaki ordeal, should we go on?" Midoriya asked, frowning.

Endeavor went to talk again but more students started to talk.

"We can help," Kirishima chimed in. "We want to help."

"Besides," Kaminari added before any of the adults could chime in, "the more hands you have the better it'll be. We can capture more members and get her back. It's a win-win scenario. Gangs are known to be disorganized. If you can get word to your informant about a stealth mission, you might be able to get both them and (Y/L/N) out with minimal risk to them both."

"And we have useful quirks," Jirou supplied. "Kaminari can kill any power they have, Bakugou and Midoriya are good for taking stuff down, so are Kirishima and Sato. Todoroki is more than capable of restraining anyone that he comes across, and I can tell you where people are, how many and so on."

"Not to mention I can make communicators that are much harder to disconnect," Momo piped up.

"People don't really know about me yet," Shinso said, hands in his jeans pockets. "They don't know my quirk, so they're much more likely to fall for me, which is more than helpful for you, since it makes fighting back much less likely."

"We want to get her back, me more than anyone," Shouto said, arms crossed over his chest. "We can useful. Besides, I don't think I need to mention all the times that we've stepped in without your permission and gotten the objective completed while keeping everything legal."

Aizawa sighed.

"We really should just let them help," he said. "They're going to keep pushing, and I don't want any of them expelled and arrested. They are some of the best up and coming heroes. Besides, they all make good points."

"I feel the need to point out," Midoriya chimed in, "that the more of us you take, the more heroes you can have causing a distraction, or the more you can release to recharge and work on other things that are starting to take precedent, like the drug that the gang is manufacturing and selling."

There were more whispers, and finally the heroes sighed.

"Alright, but you're working with Eraserhead and Endeavor, since they're going to be leading the mission with Fatgum."

"We can work with that," Bakugou said. "But we want permission to engage if necessary."

"You would have that anyway," Fatgum said.

"We also want credit if we find her," Sero added. "We aren't going to let possible attackers think that we're defenseless. They take on one of us, they take on all of us."

"That can be discussed," Present Mic assured them.

"This should go without saying," Shouto began, "that I get to ride with her in the ambulance when we find her."

"Everyone assumed that anyway," Midnight told him. "Don't worry Todoroki, no one is going to keep you away from her."

Endeavor opened his mouth, but sharp looks from everyone had him shutting it again.

The students nodded.

"Now catch us up," Bakugou demanded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't remember when you had stopped processing things the proper way.

You couldn't remember a time before the nightmares.

They talked to you, they wanted you to know about an informant. Sometimes Shouto appeared, smiling and reaching his hands out to you. Sometimes your father walked in, drunk as always, shouting at you to do better.

You retreated in on yourself.

You turned to that small part of your brain that you had made to wait out the fighting, the yelling, the hurt. You retreated into the part of yourself that you knew no one could ever enter but you.

Shouto was there like he always was. He wasn't entirely your Shouto, but he wasn't the nightmare either.

He was a figment of your imagination, but he made things a little bit better.

"I'll come," he assured you. "I'll find you."

You were lying in a meadow, a small clearing surrounded by trees that were bent over you to create a small dome of shade.

"I know you will," you told him, reaching your hand out to him.

He touched his fingers to yours, but you couldn't feel it.

You remembered someone in the past calling it dissociating, but you weren't a professional yet.

You had never done it at U.A. since you had never felt the need, but this wasn't something that you would ever be able to forget how to do.

You could still see the nightmares, but it was like it was far away, background noise.

"Do you think that you'll ever go back?" Shouto asked. "Do you think that you'll ever go back to me?"

"Maybe, if the nightmares ever stop. If I think that it's actually you that I'm going back to," you said, watching him carefully.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?" Shouto inquired.

"Yeah. I said, 'I'll always come back to you'. Why are you asking me that?"

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"You said, 'Promise me you'll be safe?' I was about to go on the raid, and you were upset about not being able to go with me."

"Do you promise to remember that?" Shouto asked.

"Yeah, I promise," you told him, smiling a little.

"(Y/F/N)! Oh, darling, what did they do to you? (Y/F/N), can you hear me?"

The nightmare was getting better at looking like the real Shouto, and this one had the same voice.

"Go to him," the dream Shouto said, sitting up.

"Why?"

"(Y/F/N), blink if you can hear me," Shouto demanded.

You forced yourself to blink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shouto couldn't describe to absolute relief it was to see you blink.

He had seen the discarded cast off to the side of you, and he wasn't sure whether you would be able to hear him in that state.

"Hey darling, come on, we're gonna get you out of here, I promise," he murmured, touching your face lightly.

"Sh-Shouto," you rasped. "Shouto, wh-what was the last thing that you said to me?"

"Darling, don't try to speak," he told you, trying to figure out how to cut through the chains without hurting you.

"Shouto, what was the last thing that you said to me?" you asked again, reaching up to grab his hand.

"'Do you promise me that you'll be safe?'" he said, eyes roving over you to try and see any wounds. "That's what I said to you."

Your eyes widened in surprise before tears slipped out of your eyes.

"Sho, it really is you!"

"Darling, hey," he murmured, touching your face softly.

You were sobbing now, fully body sobs, and Shouto wanted so badly to take a moment to just relish in the fact that you were safe, but he had to get you out of there as soon as possilbe.

"Tsukuyomi," Shouto called. "Can Dark Shadow cut through chains?"

"Yes."

"I'm on the basement level of the building. I have Tempest, can you meet us down here?"

"On our way," Tokoyami assured him.

"Guys, I have her, she's in the basement with me, we're getting her out as we speak," Shouto declared over the coms, and he was met with cheers and relief that you were okay.

"How many of you are here?" you asked, wiping at your face.

"The whole class is here," Shouto told you. "Most of the hero agencies sent representatives that are here too."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, people were really upset that you were taken, especially with the role you played in apprehending Numeral gang members on the last raid, and the part you played in bringing the drug to light."

"Wow," you murmured, making Shouto laugh.

"Hold on just a little bit longer darling," he coaxed. "Our friends are on the way."

"I can't believe that it's really you," you whispered, touching his face softly, rubbing your thumb over his scar the way you did.

"Oh darling, what did they do to you?" he asked.

"For the past couple of days they've been trying to break me, they want to know who the undercover agent is. I don't know who it is though, so the leader of the Numerals used his quirk on me. He makes the drugs. His quirk makes you see things, makes you feel things. It's like he can burrow into your head and take the images out of your head."

You shuddered in his arms and he frowned as Tokoyami appeared in the doorway.

"Hello (Y/L/N)," he said, smiling at you.

"Hey little bird," you replied, your smile watery with emotions.

"Can Dark Shadow get through those chains?"

"Of course," Tokoyami told Shouto.

"Hello starlight," Dark Shadow said.

"Hi Dark Shadow," you murmured, stroking the sentinent creature before he tore through the chains like paper mache.

You rubbed at your wrists for a moment before you threw your arms around Shouto, burying your face in his neck.

"Sho," you sobbed, tears back full force.

"I've got you darling," he murmured. "I've got you. You're free, you're free."

You nodded, arms tight around him.

Shouto scooped you up, cradling you against his chest, letting you sob as much as you needed to.

The paramedics that had been called to the scene hadn't managed to get Shouto to let go of you, and you showed no signs of letting go of him, so they had managed to do everything they needed to with you clinging to him.

"She'll need physical therapy, not to mention professional trauma therapy. She's malnourished and dehydrated, not to mention suffering from exhaustion and a very severe concussion. Her ankle needs to be further inspected, and there's some internal damage, some cracked ribs that might need to be taken care of, but we can do some more thorough work at the hospital. I assume that you're coming with her?" the paramedic asked when he was finished.

"Yes, I'm her boyfriend," Shouto said.

"Alright, well, you have to let go of her so that we can get her hooked up to an IV and make sure that we don't make her concussion any worse. You really shouldn't have moved her, but there's only so much we can do about that now," the other paramedic told him.

"I-It's okay Shouto," you murmured, pulling away from him enough to wipe your face off.

Your breathing was ragged, and you looked like you wanted to go back to being unconscious, but you allowed the paramedics to get you onto an IV and a bed with a neck supporter.

"Shouto, will you stay with me?" you asked.

"Always darling," Shouto said, gripping your hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forthree weeks afterwards, you were stuck in the hospital. Your ankle hadn't been as bad as it had been feared, you back on your feet in a week, and you were undergoing physical therapy.

You were back to a normal diet, and you were going to therapy three times a week. Well, the shrink came to you, but semantics.

Your class visited every day, bringing you your homework and recorded lessons, most of them crying, and more than elated that you were back, safe.

Shouto, after being given permission by your parents, was being counted as a family member, and he had been practically living in the hospital with you.

For the first week, he had refused to leave your hospital room. He had slept curled around you, despite the machines that you had been hooked up to, he had missed class, staying with you and keeping you company.

There was also the reason of him being the only one to be able to calm you down after a nightmare.

There were nightmares where you woke up sweaty and nervous, asking the nurse on the night shift to light the candles that were all around your room.

But there were some that had you hurtling to the small bathroom in your room, hurling the contents of your stomach up. Then there were the ones that got so bad that you locked yourself in the bathroom, hiding yourself away in a corner until someone noticed and got a hold of Shouto.

They were getting better, and you were getting better about people coming up behind you, the touching.

For a few days after being admitted to the hospital, the only person who could touch you was Shouto.

Your mother had been heart broken every time you flinched away from her touches.

Your father had only come once, and he had been carried out by hospital staff after Shouto had tossed him out of your room.

You had retreated into yourself after that, and had come clean to Shouto about some of what had happened while you were being held hostage.

The therapy was helping, and so was the massive support that you were getting from the public and other heroes that had been in similar situations.

Your friends were very understanding of you not touching them as much anymore, and you and Bakugou were closer than ever, since he had experienced something similar.

Today was your first day back in the dorms, and you weren't going to lie to yourself, you were nervous.

The class had slowly starting moving all the gifts that you were receiving into your room, so you were only carrying a small bag.

"Shouto," you began. "You know that you can walk away if I get to be too much right?"

It had been bothering you for a while, that he had stayed with you for so long. It had bothered you that he had given up so much of his time for you, while getting very little from you in return.

"Why would I do that?" Shouto asked cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"I just mean that . . . well, I know that I haven't been the easiest girlfriend to have recently, and I . . . I have more issues than when we first started dating, and things have changed. I'm way more high maintenance than I was. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted a different girl-"

"Stop it right there," he demanded, turning to you.

His eyes were hard, despite his soft tone of voice.

"(Y/F/N), I don't want anyone other than you," he said. "I don't care if you wake me up at three in the morning screaming. I don't care if you sometimes have days where you feel like you can't say anything to me. I don't care if you have days where you can't get out of bed. I love you. I love you more than anything, and those things are not going to stop me from loving you.

"You are one of the strongest women in my life, and I am not letting you go because you have some issues. We've all got issues, hell, I have issues we haven't even touched on. Those things are just another part of you that I get to love. Alright?"

You nodded, blinking back tears.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" you asked softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He waited for a moment before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You weren't entirely sure why touch was such a problem for you now. Other than the injuries you had received during the fight, nothing had happened to you that would explain it, nothing you could remember anyway.

There had been some retrograde amnesia that went along with your kidnapping, though the doctors had assured you that those memories would come back with enough time.

And they had. There were still a few blank spots, but there weren't nearly as many as there had been.

"All the right things," he murmured, kissing your forehead hesitantly.

"I love you too Shouto," you told him.

He smiled softly at you, then turned towards the doors.

They opened, revealing your friends and a huge banner with your characterized face on it.

"Surprise!" they all said, though they didn't yell it like you had thought they would.

"Welcome home (Y/F/N)," Shouto said, sliding his arm around your shoulders as you both walked out.

Yeah, this was home.

[entity9silvergen]

How to Track Your Gender Fluidity

Recently I made a post with a screenshot of my gender tracker and was asked how I track my gender’s fluidity. I’ve been meaning to make an instructional post on how to set up the app so I redownloaded the app on a spare phone to show you guys.

In this tutorial, I will explain how to edit the MoodFlow App to track the fluidity of gender including changes and intensity, how to keep the app locked so others cannot look at your data, and how tracking genderfluidity can help someone better understand their gender identity. I will also provide some alternatives if you cannot use this app.

This method of tracking can be used by genderfluid, genderfaun, genderfae, genderflor, gendersylph, genderflux, fluidflux, boyflux, girlflux, enbyflux, questioning individuals, or anyone else on the genderfluid spectrum. Some personalization may be necessary but this tutorial will cover it.

Step 1: Downloading

You want to start by downloading the MoodFlow App.

As you can see, it is intended to be a mood tracker but there are customizable features so you can use it to track other things. It is available for free on the App Store and Google Play.

Step 2: Account Set up

The app will ask you to create an account. You will be prompted to put in your name and birthdate. These are optional. 

Step 3: Color Palette

As part of the account set up, you will be asked to pick a color palette. You can change these later or customize them but this is the first important thing when it comes to tracking your gender. The app intends these colors to represent how you’re feeling (very bad, bad, okay, good, very good) but we will be using them to loosely represent your spectrum of gender. Later, these colors will make it easy to visually track your gender. There are five colors but it is okay if you have more than five genders. We will get to that later. They’re more like umbrellas for now. These colors will be a broad, simplified representation which gender you are experiencing on a given days. We will now look at the palettes (see below).

As a genderfaun individual, I personally use the "Default-Balance” palette (purple, purple-blue, blue, blue-green, green) to represent non-binary (purple), male (blue), agender (green), and the genders in between (purple-blue for bigender and blue-green for demigender). It is not a perfect system it works for me.

If you are a genderfae individual, I recommend the “Silver to Purple,” or “Sunset” palettes to represent how your gender varies from feminine, to neutral, to faded or whatever else.

If your fluidity covers the whole spectrum, I’d recommend “Farfalle,” “Sea and Sun,” “Pink to Blue,” “Yellows and Blues,” or “Kilimanjaro.” They have a range of masculine and feminine colors as well as some neutral grounds and mixes.

For any boyfluxes or masculine genderflux people, “Grey Means Neutral,” “By The Lake,” “Tea,” or “Into the Distance” could be used to represent the varying intensity of your gender.

For any girlfluxes or feminine genderflux people, “Raise the Lantern” or “All Pastel Everything” could be used to represent the changing intensity of your gender.

“Gray Scale Me” is a good choice for any genderflux individual with only one gender.

“Mojito,” “Outerspace,” and “Into The Distance” are good choices for people who are xenogender, agender, or just do not like the traditional “masculine vs feminine" system.

Again, you can edit these later, make a custom color palette, or you can just ignore using colors and use other features (explained later) but having a color palette to represent the range of your genderfludity is helpful. You don’t have to use these recommendations either. For me, I associate genders with their flags so I pick colors similar to those but you can do whatever feels right. Any color can represent any gender. You can also play around with it later to find whatever colors fit you best.

Step 4: Settings

When you are done setting up your account, you will open the screen to a calendar.

If you tap the three bars on the top, you will be given a sidebar where you can visit your settings.

In the settings, you can change your personal information, log in and out of your account, enable or disable notifications, and change your rating colors (the color palette).

Step 5: Personalization and Security

Within the settings, you will see the options to change your emotions & ratings, background, activities, and add a pinlock.

The background change is self-explanatory. There's a wide variety of stock images that are very nice but you can also add your own. I like using flags. If you’ve seen any of my old posts, I use a design with cats in the colors of the transflag. If you would like any wallpapers, you can ask me, you can check out r/lgbtwallpaper, just use google images, take your own photo, or use your own art.

You can use the pinlock to prevent other people from looking at your data. If you are in the closet, this can be a very useful so people don’t look at your information. Make sure you remember your pin though. 

You can also back up data here but that is something to worry about later.

You can make other changes as well depending on preference.

Step 6: Gender(s), Pronouns, Intensity, etc.

Open emotions & ratings to create your genders. You can also add genders later when you are making entries but it is easy to do here.

Here, you can rename your colors. Where it says rating, just tap the words next to it and you can change it.

To make genders, start by picking your layout. The options are grid, mix, segment, and segment #2. I personally like using segment #2. The layout will separate your genders into four categories. You cannot rename the categories (they will be labeled positive & energized, positive & calm, negative & calm, and negative & energized) so if seeing them bothers you, pick mix. For the tutorial, I am picking segment #2.

You will then see a section labeled editor. You will have the option to add emotions and remove emotions. Start by removing all of the emotions. It starts with 60 (the maximum) so this may take some time.

Once you’ve deleted all the emotions, you can add your genders. It will prompt you to name it and put it in a category (positive & energized, positive & calm, negative & calm, and negative & energized). The categories don’t affect anything but it will change the order the genders are displayed and how they will appear in the app’s analysis features. 

Since I am fluidflux and like using the segment #2 layout, I like to order them by intensity. I put libragenders and agender under positive & energized, demigenders under positive & calm, paragenders under negative & calm, and “full” genders under negative & energized. If you are not genderflux, I would recommend sorting them by feminine, masculine, neutral/ other, xenogender, unsure, etc. Again, this depends on the individual so you may want to play around with it. Here is mine:

After you create and organize all of your genders, return to your settings and scroll down to activities. Like before, delete all the activities. 

Below, there are a collection of icons. Tap one and you will be able to create an activity. I like to track what pronouns I use, the intensity of my gender, and how fluid or static my gender is. You can also add things like how you’re experiencing gender dysphoria or euphoria that day, your gender expression, and how you are presenting that day. There are many icons to choose from so pick which ones you think suit which thing best.

Step 7: Tracking Your Gender

To track your gender, exit your settings to the app’s homescreen. If you are having trouble finding it, tap the middle option on the bar on the bottom that says “Feed.” Then, in the same spot, tap the plus (+) button. You will be taken to a screen where you add your entry for the day. You should ideally add one entry per day. You need to pick a color summarizing your gender for the day and can select the individual genders you are feeling at the time. Here, you can also add or remove genders by hitting customize.

Hit continue to move to activities. Here, you can select pronouns, intensity, etc. You also have the option of adding photos or listing medication. Listing medication is helpful if you are on testosterone or estrogen and the photos are helpful if you want to remember how you are presenting that day or want to track the effects of HRT.

There is also a place to type labeled journal if you would like to write a more detailed explanation of how you’re experiencing gender or if anything noteworthy has occurred. 

By hitting customize, you can enable or disable features. A feature you can enable is tracking sleep. Sleep is tracked on a sliding scale so genderflux individuals can use this to track the intensity of their gender as well.

Step 8: Viewing Your Gender

You can best view your gender from the homescreen/ the feed. Any entries from that day will be shown at the top. By tapping it, you have the option of editing it if you would like to change something later. I would recommend not deleting genders from your entry if your gender changes during the day and instead indicating in some way that it changed.

You can scroll down to see the calendar for that month. Each day will be highlighted with the color you choose that day, making it easy to see any patterns. This is why we choose colors representing masculinity, femininity, neutrality, etc rather than having colors represent individual genders.

On the bottom bar, you can tap calendar to see other months’ data.

The journal section is the place to write down any detailed entries. The insight section will provide some analysis of your entries. 

The most useful data is at the top. It will display the oscillation of your gender and the spread over an adjustable period of time based on color.

Below, it will also show how many times you selected a specific gender, pronoun, intensity, etc.

Step 9: More Personalization

Everyone’s gender is different. You may need to edit this further to fit your fluidity. Some people have less than five genders they are fluid between so each color could represent one gender, some people may want different colors to represent different umbrellas of gender, and more. 

If you are multigender/ experience more than one gender at a time, it can be kind of difficult figuring out how to add an entry for that. Adding more genders and activities can make it more detailed. It just depends how specific you want your tracker to be.

Just play around with it and figure out what is right for you.

Step 10: Why Tracking Your Gender Is Helpful

Pretty much every trans person has those self-doubt moments and people on the genderfluid spectrum often experience that to a greater degree. I think we all know that feeling when your gender changes and you wonder “What if I’ve been this the whole time?” Very scary, especially if you’re just beginning to figure yourself out or if you’ve already come out.

Tracking your gender helps with that feeling. By having something physical you can look at that proves your gender really was a different one in the past and you weren’t faking or deceiving yourself.

You can see my tracking from 2021 above. I started a new gender tracker this year. In 2020, my gender was actually male (blue) most of the time and my gender would change in some way every few days. As you can see, I was non-binary or bigender for pretty much all of January this year and flipped to libramasculine on the final day. That is very unusual for me so if I was not tracking my gender, I wouldn’t know my gender fluidity was following an abnormal pattern and I likely would have doubted myself a lot and questioned if I was ever really a boy.

If you are questioning your gender identity, a tracker can be helpful because it is more reliable than your memory, assuming you don’t delete anything. There is less room for doubt if you are looking at evidence you really did experience something. And, if you are questioning the fluidity of your gender, the same thing applies.

Of course, someone who is not genderfluid can try this and if you later realize you are not genderfluid despite having varied data on a tracker, that is okay as well. This is a helpful tool but it is not for everyone and ultimately you are the best judge of your identity.

If you cannot use this app, you can also use a calendar or planner. If you are in the closet, marking each day with a colored highlighter isn’t that suspicious. You can also write down the genders you experience on different days and such. You could also try using a period tracker but that may be more difficult since you usually cannot change the settings and symptoms on those.

Anyway, I hope this was helpful. Let me know if you end up using this. Feel free to ask questions to me privately or in the comments or share this post with others. Have fun tracking your gender guys, gals, and non-binary pals!

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch20: When The Bough Breaks

Chapter Summary: Fliss finds herself in an impossible position…and her decision tips Frank’s world upside down.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

 Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

 A/N: Don’t hate me… 

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 19

And this day’s ending is the proof of time, killing all the faith I know.

 “Was that another one?” Frank asked as Fliss tossed her phone onto the coffee table with an angry snort.

 She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Frank sighed and looked at her “Honey…” “I know, I know…” she looked at him. “Look, I’ve made notes of every time I’ve had one so… its recorded. But again, it’s not like we can prove anything…they happen like twice a day and then nothing…hardly what they’ll call harassment.” Frank shifted slightly “This has been going on for 2 weeks now sweetheart.” “I’m well aware of that.” she snapped, before she shook her head “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry…not at you.” “Come here…” he said, opening his arms and she snuggled into him, leaning against his chest as his hand gently ran up and down her arm. “Maybe you should think about changing your number…and not putting the new one on the website.” “Yeah.” she conceded, “It’s not gonna help for work though…” “You can work round it.” he said, “Keep the business line and if you’re not there people will have to leave a message. Then, once you know your clients…you can give them your cell number.”

 “Fucking ass hole is still making my life awkward.”

 “Only if you let him. It’s a minor inconvenience to change your number but, if in the grand scheme of things all he has in his back pocket is sending you some dumbass birthday card and silent phone calls then…he’s just a pathetic fucking loser that’s trying to bully you into being scared.” “I’m not scared, just pissed off.” she shook her head “I know he’s a chicken shit, he wouldn’t dare come near me not when you’re on the scene…or my dad for that matter.” “Good, because if he did I’m not sure I’d be able to control myself.” Frank said softly.

“Maybe we should just pay someone to kill him.” Fliss said after a moment’s pause and Frank let out a snort “Bullet straight between the eyes.”

“Nah, too quick.” Frank sniffed, reaching for his beer “I’d dangle him over a tank of hungry sharks and lower him in inch by inch…”

“Or we could feed him to pigs, like in Hannibal.” Fliss mused.

 “That’s also an option…no trace” he nodded taking a mouthful of beer.

 “You know they should teach this shit at schools” Fliss reached for her own drink “How to get rid of bodies. I feel it is something everyone should be educated in.” “Maybe you should mention it to Bonnie. Tell her you feel it is an educational rite of passage or some other inspiring shit like that…”

 Fliss laughed, placing her wine glass down and shifting so that she was led on her front, half on-half off Frank, looking up at him as her chin rest on his chest.

“On a scale of 1 to 10 how much of a meltdown are we facing with Mary on tomorrow morning?”

 “From her current mood I’d suspect a good 4 and a half, maybe a 5.” he mused, before he looked at Fliss “I don’t much care, she’s going whether she wants to or not.” “When do the University Classes start again?”

 “Not till second week in October.”  Frank replied “Which reminds me, I need to submit that funding form tomorrow…” “It’s on the table.” Fliss said, as she correctly guessed from the look on his face he was pondering where he had put it.”

“What would I do without you?” he grinned down at her.

 “I have absolutely no idea.” she shrugged and he smiled and leaned down pressing a kiss to her lips.

 “Did you speak to Evelyn before?” Fliss asked him and he nodded.

 “She’s coming down this weekend.” Frank said, “She’s still on about Mary going to Boston for a weekend.” “You still not comfortable about her going?” Fliss asked.

 Frank wrinkled his nose “I don’t know if I trust her fully yet.” “You’ll never know you can unless you give her a chance.” Fliss reasoned

 “You think I should let her go?” Frank said, slightly surprised.

 “That’s not my decision to make, Frank” Fliss shook her head.

 “No, but I value your opinion.” Frank looked at her. “Go on, tell me what you think.” Fliss hesitated for a moment before she sat up and turned her body so she was facing him, her legs tucked underneath her on the sofa. “If it was me in your position, I’d give Evelyn a chance. She’s played ball so far, done everything you’ve asked her to. You’ve got legal guardianship of Mary so she can’t pull any stupid stunts, and if Mary comes back and tells you something she did that you don’t like, well, you cut the visits.” Frank looked at Fliss before he took another drink from his beer bottle. He was torn in two. In one respect he wanted Mary to be happy and it certainly seemed that she enjoyed seeing Evelyn, but on flip side he was still more than comfortable with keeping his Mother at arm’s length.

“I’ll think about it.” he shrugged, non-committedly.

 “Well, you should also ask Mary.” Fliss said “She might not even want to go.” “She will.” Frank said, “Evelyn has a piano.” Fliss laughed “Yeah, but she’s also bossy, remember?”

 “Yeah, I had heard that.” Frank said, and Fliss chuckled again.

 “Well, can you not think about it right now?” she said, taking the beer bottle out of his hand.

“Hey…” he pouted as she put it down on the table, his pout soon turned into a smirk as Fliss moved so she was straddling him on the sofa, his t-shirt that she’d been lounging around in rode up her thighs slightly and his hands rubbed up the side of her bare skin. “Something on your mind baby girl?”

 “What makes you think that?” she asked, sliding her hands up his chest, over the soft material of his top.

 “Just a hunch…” he mumbled, as he reached up and gently gripped the back of her neck, pulling her head down to meet his.

****** “Hey Frank…”

 Frank looked up and smiled at Alan as he walked into the work shop.

 “Hey Alan, not seen you in a while, how you doing?” “Good…I’m good. I was just wondering if I could have a word in my office.”

 “Sure.” Frank frowned “Is err, everything ok?” “Oh, yeah, it’s nothing to worry about…quite the opposite in fact…” “Alright, well me just finish piecing this oil filter together and I’ll be with you.”

 “Sure.” Alan said, “No rush.” 

Frank quickly tightened the filter back up, gave it the once over before he set down his tools and hopped off the boat, wiping his hands on a rag before he walked through the door at the back of the workshop and down the small corridor that led to the main office at the rear of the shop. He knocked sharply on the door and then swung it open as Alan looked at him, gesturing for him to take a seat whilst he finished up his call. Eventually, he bid the person on the other end good bye and placed the receiver down.

 “Relax, Frank…” Alan chuckled as Frank adjusted his jeans for what felt like the 30th time since sitting down.

 “Sorry.” Frank nodded, scratching at his temple. “So errr, do you need me to do something or...” “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Alan said “As you know Paul is retiring at the end of the year, which means the Head Mechanic role is up for grabs…and I was wondering if you’d be interesting in taking the position.” “Me?” Frank’s eyes widened slightly

Alan nodded “I know in the grand scheme of things you haven’t been here long but you’ve impressed me, just like Bill said you would. You knuckle down, you do the overtime if needed, you don’t complain…I like you Frank, and the team does to.” “I err…” Frank scratched the back of his neck. “I’m flattered…but I’ve never managed a team before or…”

“You were an Assistant Professor at one stage right?” Alan eyed him and Frank sighed, nodding “You must have had a research team…” “Yeah, but…” “It’s no different.” Alan shook his head, “And I’m here to help and give you some guidance. I’m not quite ready to retire fully yet. Not like Bill, only so much golf I can play before I go fucking nuts.” Frank snorted “Yeah, not gonna lie, it’s not my thing…” Alan looked at him “The duties won’t be that much different Frank. You’ll just be in charge of booking the jobs in, allocating them to the guys, keeping on top of deadlines and general management of the team…means a little less time spent actually getting your hands dirty but…well, you can manage that yourself. You wanna take a job you take it.”

 “Can I take a bit of time to think it over?” he asked.

“Sure. Take a few days, let me know. I’d like to have whoever is taking over in a position to start the handover by the start of October if possible so…” “Thanks.” Frank nodded “I’ll give it some thought.” “Oh, and it also comes with a Ten thou a year raise…” Alan casually dropped in as Frank stood up “Plus a bonus each year of up to 20 percent, depending on how well you’ve done on your targets” “Just a minor detail you forgot to tell me.” Frank arched an eyebrow.

 “Well, I wanted to make sure you’d consider it for the right reasons not merely the financial incentive.” Alan shrugged “Another reason I’m convinced you’re perfect for the job.” Frank nodded and with that he left the office. Given that it was almost lunch time he took his break 15 or so minutes earlier and headed out into the September sun, pulling out his phone.

 “Hey Sailor.” Fliss greeted him.

 “Hey Cowgirl.” he smiled, leaning against the hood of his truck sipping a bottle of water “You got a sec.” “For you, always. What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing bad anyway…I just got offered a promotion.”

 “Frankie that’s amazing!” She gushed “You sound surprised though.” “I am, a little.” he said, before he launched into an explanation of what Alan had told him and what the job would entail, plus the financial incentives.

 “Wow!” she said as he finished talking “Baby, that’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you!”

Frank felt himself blushing at her praise, and despite the fact he couldn’t even see her he rubbed at his neck slightly. “So, you think I should take it?” “Of course I do.  But at the same time, if you don’t want to then…you don’t have to. This is a great position to be in honey, Alan’s clearly seen your potential.”

 “Just not sure If I’m cut out to be management.” he said, biting his lip.

 “I had the same thoughts about my business you know.” she spoke gently “I wasn’t sure if setting up on my own after everything that happened was gonna work but then Dad told me that I’d never know unless I took the plunge. Have a little faith in yourself. The only person who doubts your capability is you.”

Frank smiled at her words and looked up and out over the Marina “You always know exactly what to say.” “Not really, I make most of it up as a go along.” she said and Frank laughed. “But, just think, with the extra money you can get a new car…” “There’s nothing wrong with my truck.” “Frank, it’s died on you 4 times in the last 2 weeks. Dad reckons his ride on lawnmower has more power under the hood than that thing”

 “Ok, I’ll admit…she’s getting a little clunky…but she is into her twenties now….” Fliss snorted “You could get yourself a nice Audi…”

“Fuck off.” Frank said and she laughed

 “I like Simon’s car…” “You like it so much you get one.”

“Would never fit Thor in the back.” she said and Frank had to concede she had a point “But now you’re freelancing…you don’t actually need a truck do you?” “No, but…it’s handy…” “Handy, baby it only has three seats…” “And a flatbed…” Frank pouted slihglty. “So get one with five seats.” she shrugged. “You can buy trucks with a full cab…”

“This is not a good enough reason to get me to take the promotion…” 

“You want a better reason?” She said. “Ok, well here’s some food for thought…when the lease is up on our place maybe we could look into buying. You know I don’t wanna rent forever, I want us to have something for the future that’s ours, and the extra money you get a year would make a difference in what we can borrow towards it.” And just like that, as always, she’d managed to sideswipe him. He’d be lying if he hadn’t considered getting back on the property market, he had savings after all…but he’d given it no more thought than a fleeting idea every now and then when he drove past places with real estate signs in the front yards

 “This mean you’re coming round to the idea of marrying me and having baby Franks and Flisses?” She snorted “You’re such a dick…although that’s the only time you’ve ever mentioned that when you’re sober.” “So you’re saying that if I ask you when I’m not drunk you’d say yes?” he teased. “Goodbye Frank…” She teased in an airy voice, before she cut the call.

 Chuckling to himself he slid the phone back into his pocket and headed back inside to grab his lunch from the fridge in the kitchen. As he did so he passed Paul who was heading out with a fresh cup of coffee.

 “Oh, erm…Alan…” Frank looked at him. “So, turns out I don’t need as much time to think about it as I thought I did. I’ll take the job.” Alan smiled at him and pat him on the shoulder “Good man. I’ll get the wheels in motion and then we can work out how we start to transfer Paul’s responsibilities over.”

Frank nodded at him as he walked off.

 “Oh…” Alan called after him, “We’ll also need to pick your car.”

“My car…” Frank frowned.

 “Yeah, did I not mention? Paul’s BM…that’s a company car. I’m gonna let him keep it as a retirement present so we’ll need to order you another one. Not least because I don’t want my Head Mechanic driving around in that heap of shit you have. Looks like we don’t pay you enough…” Frank stood there, eyebrows raised as Alan simply smirked at him and left. Shaking his head, he gave a little groan, already imagining Fliss’ face when he told her.

*****

Fliss had reacted exactly how he had thought she would, laughing hysterically and then teasing him about how he had no alternative now than to get rid of the heap of shit he was ridiculously attached to. She’d then spent the evening looking at cars on her phone, showing him ridiculously pimped out vehicles in various vile colours, the final straw being a hot-rod red for Mustang with gold rims and flames painted down the side. At that point he’d snatched the phone out of her hand, grabbed her hips and pulled her down under him on the couch and given her something else to think about for half an hour or so.

September ticked by, in the usual speed by which time seemed to be flying for Frank and he found himself thrown into his job, soaking up Paul’s experience of managing the team as much as he could. He was also extremely grateful for both Fliss and Bill’s input, both of them having dealt with managing staff and rotas so he was able to ask them both questions as well. Naturally, when V heard about it she insisted on cooking him a special dinner, and even Evelyn presented him with a very nice bottle of Scotch when she came to visit as a Congratulations.

 Another bit of good news for them was that once Fliss changed her phone number the calls stopped as well. Frank was glad about that, because it meant that once again they’d thwarted the ass holes attempts to intimidate her. She’d made a blog, however, of every call she had gotten which now sat in Greg’s files along with the Card. Just in case.

Nope, on the whole life seemed to be going well for the pair of them.

“Someone’s looking smug…” Greg teased Frank as he leaned back in the chair around Greg’s large outdoor table. It was a Saturday at the start of October and they’d finally got round to having that cook out and gathering that the Circle of Truth had been attempting to organise round everyone’s schedule for the last 3 months.

 “Well, you know…life’s pretty good.” Frank smiled, sipping his beer, his eyes straying to Fliss who was stood around the bar area to the right of the garden with Bonnie, Zara and Lisa. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a tie-died off the shoulder sweater but as usual, she looked stunning.

 “You got a ring yet?” Jake asked, dropping down into a seat next to him.

 “Oh don’t you start as well.” Frank groaned as Simon and Greg both laughed. “We’re happy as we are…besides, we’ve not even been together a year yet…” “Not far off.” Jake shrugged “Man, when you know you know…” “He’s just scared she’ll say no.” Simon teased. Frank stilled for a moment and then turned to glare at the man. “Shit, you are?” Simon frowned “No, not especially but…” Frank shook his head, trying to find the words to explain “I’m absolutely, totally convinced I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I know she feels the same but…well she’s been married before and I don’t want to ask until I know she’s ready to do it again.”

Greg looked at him, nodding “I get that.”

“That’s gotta be the most grown up think you’ve ever said…” Jake looked at Frank who flipped him off but deep down he had to admit, it wasn’t wrong. He knew that both he and Fliss had come a long way from the people they had been just over 14 months ago when they had first met. Fliss had come alive, flourished even in herself, and he…well, he’d learnt that there was more to life than the meaningless cycle of one night stands and that flying by the seat of his pants wasn’t always the most productive thing to do. Both of them had been broken in their own way, had their own guards and walls around themselves which the other had managed to smash straight through. He stole another glance at Fliss and smiled, he knew there was no other woman for him, but in the same breath…what was the rush? They had a life time. And a ring and a piece of paper wasn’t going to change any of that.

 “Man you grew up…” Simon grinned and Frank rolled his eyes.

 “Look, I’ll have you know I’ve brought up a kid since the age of 6 months…all this shit about me being a man child…It’s crap…”

 “Whatever man…we all know you’re not a grown up until you have scatter cushions on your sofa…” Simon teased, referencing the previous week when he and Bonnie had come over for drinks and Fliss and Frank had had a jokey argument about said cushions. Frank threw his head back in a huge bout of laugher, shaking his head.

 “Fuck you!” he said, looking at him as Simon grinned.

 “Anyway, man…speaking of weddings…” Greg turned to Jake “You’ve been engaged for what? Three years now…when you gonna set a date?”

“He has a point…” Simon looked at him.

“Well, you can all shut the fuck up because for your information we have.”

“Shut the front door!” Greg grinned

 Jake nodded and took a large mouthful of his beer.

 “So you gonna tell any of us or…” Jake glanced over at Lisa before he yelled her name and she looked over at him, the other women also looking up. 

“Can we tell them now babe?” he called. Lisa grinned and nodded, and then made her way over followed by Zara. Fliss looked at Bonnie who shrugged, and the two of them picked up their drinks and followed.

 Fliss perched on Frank’s knee and he slid one hand round her waist the other dropped to her thigh.

 “So, we have set a date for the wedding.” Lisa smiled to a huge shriek from Zara. Frank spotted Fliss looking at Bonnie, the two of them sharing a significant smirk and he squeezed her thigh.

 “Stop being a bitch.” he said in a low voice.

 “Rude…” she mumbled, grinning into her gin. “6th April next year…” Jake grinned. “At Hardemans Secret Garden in Dover, Tampa.” “Well unless you invented a time machine, it ain’t gonna be this year is it?” Simon looked at him, before he gave a yell as Bonnie slapped him round the back of the head.

 “Obviously you’re all invited.” Jake said, “Except for Simon.” “Hang on, if he isn’t coming does that mean I can’t?” Bonnie pouted.

“You can be my plus one.” Fliss nodded.

 “Oi…” Frank nipped her thigh gently. She grinned at him, ruffling his hair slightly. He jerked his head out of her reach and looked at her over his aviators. She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned.

 “Guys this is great news…” Greg said, nodding “Best dig the suit out.” “You wear a suit to work every day.” Zara looked at him. 

“And you won’t need to.” Jake shook his head. “In fact none of you will…my brother is best man, obviously, but I’d like you guys there as my Groomsmen…that is, if you’re up for it.” Frank smiled at Greg, then Simon before they all shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m in…” Greg smiled.

“Me too pal, I’m honoured.” Frank smiled, tipping his beer bottle in Jake’s direction.

“Does this mean we get to plan the Batchelor party?” Simon asked. Jake nodded with a grin and Simon leaned back “Oh this is gonna be beautiful….”

***** “You’re fucking mental.” Frank looked at Fliss as she shrugged, circling Cap back round to the jump which Joanne had just hiked up another foot. He shook his head and turned away “I can’t watch.” “Don’t’ be a chicken Frank.” Mary grinned up at him, “It’s cool…I wanna do that some day.” “Over my dead body.” Frank looked down at her.

“Yeah you said that about me going to Boston.” “No, that’s not what I said.” Frank sighed, looking at her “I said over my dead body were you going to live with Evelyn….and did you?” “No…” Mary conceded “But you’re letting me go back for a weekend.”

“Yes, because you’re going for 2 nights and coming home” he said, and despite himself he turned his head to see Fliss sail Cap over the huge jump.

“See….” Fliss said, pulling the horse up to a stop “Easy…” “Whatever you say sweetheart.” he shook his head.

“Can I jump Monty soon?” Mary asked, and Fliss smiled.

“Yeah we can do a little cross pole…” “I give in…” Frank groaned, throwing his hands out to the side “The pair of you are nuts.”

“Says the guy who almost cried when he had to order a new car.” Fliss looked at him and Frank rolled his eyes “I mean who does that?” “Yeah Frank…” Mary said, swinging off the fence to the paddock, leaning back to look at him. “You get to swap a rust bucket for a shiny new Mitsubishi and you were like heartbroken.” “Hey, me and that truck have seen a lot of action-“ “I don’t wanna know…” Fliss started.

“Of which you’ve been part of…” he smirked her and she flushed a little, grinning. “I’m kinda attached to it.” “It’s a lump of metal.” Fliss looked at him.

“How dare you.” Frank scoffed, feigning offence.

“Well now you can have new adventures in the new truck.” Mary shrugged “Simples.” “When you do get it I vote the first thing we do is load it up and head off for a picnic somewhere.” Fliss said, hopping off Cap.

“I can go with that.” Frank nodded as she turned and walked towards the gate, letting her out.

 “Can I take him?” Mary asked, hopping down off the fence. 

“Sure…” Fliss said, handing her the reins. Mary led the horse away to the barn as Fliss removed her hat and pulled out her bobble, shaking her long hair free before she tied it back up again.

“I really do like it that colour.” Frank mused after a second, watching her. She blushed a little, and he knew why. A week ago she’d come back from the salon, her usually bright auburn hair was a lot more demure, having had caramel put through the ends. When Frank had complimented her on the change she’d gotten a little shy and said that she used to have it like that when she was younger, but John had always wanted her to keep it her natural colour. Now she felt like she fancied a change. Her admission had once again, knocked Frank for, how simple little things like that were so huge for her.

She pulled off her riding gloves, shoved them into her back pocket and they walked into the barn as Mary opened Cap’s stable and led him inside. As always, the large horse bowed his head gently to allow Mary to undo his bridle and Fliss smiled. Cap was secretly her favourite after Heidi. He was such a loving animal, despite his size always being so gentle and careful around people, especially Mary. Most animals were like that around her, she just had this aura that they seemed to like. But then again, everyone said that animals were a good judge of character.

 “Can we go to the shack for dinner?” Mary spoke up, looking at Frank “It is Saturday…”

 “Oh, I dunno…” Frank sighed, “Not sure my heap of shit truck will get us there.” “No but Fliss’ jeep will.” Mary shrugged and Frank shook his head with a snort.

“You literally have an answer for everything.”

 “Wonder where she gets that from…” Fliss looked at him and he nudged her gently with his elbow.

 “So can we go or not?”

 “Yes, ok we can go to the shack.” Frank said “But the deal is you tidy your room when you get home. It’s a disgrace.” Mary pondered this for a moment as Fliss undid the girth on Cap’s saddle, pulling it off.

 “Deal.” she nodded “Only Fliss said she was gonna help me sort my clothes out…some of them don’t fit anymore.”

“Yeah we do that tomorrow morning.” Fliss smiled, “Then we can look at ordering you some warm stuff for New York.” “Are we still getting matching sweaters when we get there?” “No.” Frank said, at the same time Fliss nodded.

“Yes.” “No, we’re not.” Frank looked at her. 

“Errr 2 vs 1 Sailor, you’re outvoted.” she shrugged, pushing past him with the saddle on her arms. “But if you’re a good boy we’ll let you pick them right Mary?” “I dunno.” Mary frowned “Have you seen his shirts?” Fliss let out a roar of laughter and turned to face her, before she looked at Frank, laughing even harder at the pure indignation on his face. 

“I hate you both.” he said sullenly, folding his arms.

 The Shack was busy by the time they arrived but given that it wasn’t too cold they managed to find a small table outside and ordered their food, Mary getting through an astonishing amount considering but the Frank had noticed she was going through a bit of a growth spurt which he mentioned to Fliss when they were snuggled up on the sofa later.

“Not sure getting her any stuff for New York yet is wise.” he mused “If she carries on like she is it won’t fit her.”

“Well we can wait…Fliss said shrugging, her hand rubbing at Frank’s stomach under his shirt. “You have no idea how excited I am…” “Really?” Frank snorted “You never mentioned it.” “Oh piss off” she laughed, before she sighed happily “It’s the one thing I miss about home and Boston…you know this time of year the leaves would be changing colour and falling,…”

“I know what you mean.” he said, his hands carding through her hair “You don’t really Seasons here.”

“Well you do…” Fliss said, “Hurricane and Summer.” Frank let out a laugh as she looked up at him. “You know you’re my hurricane.”

“What?” he looked at her

 “Came into my life, blew it all upside down…” “Jesus you talk some shit!” he laughed, shaking his head as she grinned. 

“You know there was actually a hurricane Frank back in 2010. So I’m not talking complete shit…” “Whatever Sweetheart…” he snorted, leaning back as her nails scratched against his stomach. He gave a twitch and grabbed her wrist, and looked down at her as she flashed him a coy look. “Stop it.”

“What, this?” she moved and used her other hand, and Frank let out a hiss as he shifted and grabbed that one too.

 “You know what that does to me…” he looked at her, his voice low.

 “Yup.” she nodded, grinning.

 With a jerk of his arms he pulled her forward so she fell onto him fully, drawing a giggle from her as her nose bumped against his.

 “I fuckin’ love you.” he smiled at her, and she grinned, giving him a soft kiss.

 “Yeah, you’ve told me once or twice…” she smirked, her lips locking onto his.

******

 “Fliss?”

 “Office…” she called back, and a second or so later Joanne popped her head into the room.

 “Everything’s done.” she said, “I was gonna lock up…you’re not normally here this late.”

 “Yeah I know but I have some paper work to sort. Need to file a couple of things and, well, thought it would be easier to do it here than take everything home. Frank’s taken Mary bowling so…” “And you’d rather be here doing paper work?” Joanne teased.

“Sadly, it needs doing…besides, last time we went I kicked his ass, again, he sulked for hours.” Fliss snorted “Maybe he stands more of a chance against Mary.”

“Won’t he let her win?” Joanne asked “I mean, she is only eight…”

“No chance.” Fliss looked at Jo. “He says that she needs reminding every now and then that she’s not a genius at everything…” Joanne let out a laugh “Fair enough. Ok, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye Jo…”

 Fliss set about getting to work, filing the various bills and disclaimers she’d had signed and started then sifting through the list of clients and payments, checking who owed what and typing out the bills for the month. Once they were printed and placed in envelopes, ready to be tacked to the stable doors in the morning she glanced at the clock and realised it was almost 8 pm.  Frank and Mary should be home now.

She was just about to pack up when she realised she hadn’t gone through the post for the day. For a second she debated leaving it for the morning, but decided she would get it over with. There wasn’t much- mostly a couple of letters from various equestrian societies around the area about a few events going on, but the last one she reached was a manila envelope with the address typed out on the front.

 She turned it over, opened it and then pulled out the contents and immediately felt her blood run cold as she looked at the paper in front of her. It was a copy of the photo of her and Mary, taken from the first Blog that Mary had written over the summer. Underneath it was typed a simple message- I always knew you’d suit motherhood.

 Fliss swallowed, it didn’t take a genius to work out who it was from but for the first time since his ridiculous campaign now she was actually frightened as to the meaning behind this. Up until now it he’d been nothing more than annoying but this was designed to be more than an aggravation.

 It was a threat. A direct threat telling her he knew about Mary.

 Whilst Fliss wasn’t Mary’s mother, and would never claim to be she loved that girl like she was her own and the fact that John was even brining her into this made her feel physically sick, so much so that she felt the bile rising in her throat and with a sharp heave she lurched to the side, grabbing the waste paper basket and hocking up the bitter substance. Coughing she wiped the back of her mouth with a shaking hand, reaching for the bottle of water on her desk.

 She folded the photo up and stuck it back in the envelope, shoving it in the drawer before she stood up and locked her office, heading to her jeep. Her mind was reeling, now it wasn’t just her he was focussing on, this changed everything. Did she tell Frank? She knew she should, she couldn’t leave Mary in danger. Not that she believed any harm would come to her, not really, especially not under Frank’s care but that was another worry she had. That if she told Frank this, it was really going to push him over that edge into blind rage, and he’d been on the first plane out to Boston, hunting the fucker down…and then what?

 He ended up in jail himself because Fliss knew Frank well enough to understand that if that blind rage took hold, he wouldn’t stop.

 She had no answer to this, nothing. She sat in her jeep, staring out of the window, trying to force the thoughts and mumbles and voices in her heat to quiet, so she could think clearly, get some form of grasp on what it was she needed to do. And then one voice was screamed at her, clearly, giving her a solution…the only one she could viably see working.

With a loud sob, Fliss covered her face in her hands, unable to see an alternative to the decision she had just reached. A decision that was going to break her heart more than anything had ever done before.

******

“Hey, you’re late…”  Frank looked up, immediately frowning as he saw Fliss’ face. “Honey…what…” “Where’s Mary?” she asked instantly.

“She nipped to Roberta’s” Frank said “I know it’s late but we saw her as we were headed out of the car and she wanted to collect something for Show and Tell tomorrow…why?”

 “We need to talk.” Fliss said.

Frank stood up off the sofa and walked towards her, he reached for her and she took a step back.

“Ok, Fliss, you’re scaring me now…what…”

“I think…” Fliss looked down at her hands “I think that we need to stop seeing each other.”

Frank blinked, not sure he had heard her right, but when he looked at her he saw a tear trickling down her face and she was avoiding his gaze. The world around him began to fade and a dull buzzing filled his head and rang around his ears as a horrible cold feeling washed over him.

“Lissy…” he swallowed, his words sticking in his throat “What’s brought this on? Did I do something? Are you not happy? I don’t understand…” “I just…it isn’t working for me…” she took a deep breath and looked up at him.

“You’re lying.” he said instantly, he could see it written all over her face “Fliss, what’s going on?” “Nothing, I’m sorry. I just…I need to leave, I need space.” she said “I’m so sorry Frank…” Frank took a deep breath, and watched as she turned to leave. After a second he hurried after her into the hallway, shaking his head.

 “Lissy, please…talk to me…” he all but begged as she walked to the door. She made to open it but Frank was behind her and placed his hand firmly on the top of the PVC, causing it to shut. She spun round and looked up at him, the tears now pouring down her face.

 “Please, Frank…don’t make this any harder than it is…” her voice was broken, and she shook her head. “I don’t understand what THIS is?” he looked at her, running a hand through his hair as he felt the stinging of tears in his own eyes “Last month we were talking about buying a house together and now you just wanna break it off, for no reason? Honey, just…whatever is going on, we can work through it, just talk to me.”

 “I’m so sorry…” she whispered, “Just…let me out…please…”

He looked at her again, her eyes bouncing across his and he knew instantly he couldn’t stop her, and would never do that to her either, no matter how much he so desperately wanted to lock the door and force her to tell him what the fuck was going on. So with a sniff he forced himself to step back and her hand went to the door knob, her shoulders shaking.

 “Liss, please…” his voice cracked. “Don’t do this…”

 She took a deep breath and opened the door, the warm air from outside hit him in the face, tears stinging his eyes slightly before click of the latch hit his ears as the door shut behind her, leaving him stood alone in the hallway, stunned and utterly, utterly broken. 

**** Chapter 21

[creacherkeeper]

sorry if this bothers you but you seemed like a good person to talk to about this. im like 97% sure im autistic and ive done a lot of research but my mom doesn’t believe me because i’m not like the boys she’s seen on youtube. and its just awful because i’m not eighteen yet and im a black girl and i know how parents are important in the diagnosis because of childhood behavior. i just feel like no one will believe me about a diagnosis.

hi nonny

first off, not a bother AT ALL, no worries. im always happy to talk through situations like this

secondly, im sorry for the situation youre in. its one that a lot of autistic people find themselves in, so youre not alone, but its a very difficult thing to go through, especially when youre a minor without access to many resources. so know that someone sees the struggle. when i was trying to get diagnosed my parents were the exact same way. they didnt believe me at all because their only concept of autism came from rainman

so, some advice:

until youre an adult, take this time to learn as much as you can about autism, the autistic community, your own neurodivergence and how it affects you, and whether or not you actually want a diagnosis. having that official word is important for many people, and it gives you access to accommodations at work and school. but there are a lot of drawbacks to a dx as well. in situations where you are forced to disclose, there is a lot of stigma, and people may treat you poorly because of it. depending on where you live, you may be disqualified for live saving medical treatment such as transplants. it makes it infinitely harder to adopt or win custody battles. etc etc. there are many reasons one would choose to get a dx or not, so learn more, talk to people, and take this time to make a decision. if you choose self-dx, know that there are many in the autistic community who chose the same and you are loved and welcome as one of us

if you do chose to get a professional dx, know that its going to be an uphill battle. it's expensive, for one, so if you're planning on attending college or live near a campus, try finding a university teaching psych center that charges on a sliding scale. they're also going to have young professionals who hopefully are more up to date and not so set in the old conception of autism. youre also going to have more of a difficult time getting a diagnosis as a black girl, because so much of the psych field was built on sexism and racism, as well as the inherent ableism of the field. youre doubly more likely to get misdiagnosed with a behavioral or mood disorder, so know that you are allowed to stick up for yourself and be clear about your needs in the process. many (especially older) professional's picture of autism is still 10 year old nonverbal white boys. before seeing someone, ask on the phone (or have someone ask for you) whether or not they have experience diagnosing adults, women, and people of color. that could really make a difference. but also keep in mind that if one person doesnt work out, you can always see someone else. i've been misdiagnosed with things several times, and i choose not to disclose that when seeing new medical or mental health professionals unless its relevant

all that said, you do NOT need your parents to get a diagnosis. mine were not involved in my process at all when i got dx'd at 19, because i knew they would do everything in their power to convince the doctor i wasn't autistic, even if it meant bending the truth or lying. i brought them to my results session, but that was it. they argued with the doctor but she had already made her diagnosis, so it didnt matter. the rest of it was just me and the diagnostician, and i answered all questions about childhood the best i could. its totally fine to write down a list of childhood behaviors or memories before you go in if you think youll forget or miss something. for me the biggest reason i got diagnosed was the hugely variant scores i got on my IQ test, which is a common thing with autism (my scores ranged from low 30s to 99.8th percentile, with not much being average or in the middle). so the diagnostician will not only be looking to childhood or family members. there are plenty of people seeking diagnosis who dont have access to willing family anyway

i think thats all my advice as of now. but i understand how scary the situation is, or how scary it seems while youre in it. if you have any more questions or just need to talk, feel free to message again or dm me. im more than happy to listen or try to help more

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 73: Care and After

Keith and Lance have to wait two movements to take a pregnancy test. In the meantime, Keith recuperates and some actual work gets done.

And I finally stop shitting on Krolia quite so much, bc I'm nice like that 😇

First  Previous  Next

Krolia stops by while Keith is in a deep sleep, offering the excuse that she’s bringing them more food and returning BleepBloop. Once she’s made her excuse plausible, the offerings placed in the cellar beneath the remaining packages she’d given them a movement ago, she admits her true purpose with a question.

“How is he?”

“He’s fine,” Lance murmurs, brushing hair out of Keith's face. He pushes one foot rhythmically against the wall, letting their hanging bed sway gently back and forth. “The night before last, he had some trouble holding his fever. I ended up putting him in a hot bath. Then last night, his fever broke fully.”

“When his fever dropped the first time, was it a false break or just a drop in temperature?”

“No… It was my fault. It got really cold out, and I forgot to feed the fire. He couldn’t keep up. He was still having chills, and was slightly lucid. He suggested I run him a bath. I don’t think he remembers, though.”

“A dip in fever is pretty normal for a first season. Galra are never as strong their first time around. You handled it well.”

“Mhm. I missed him, though.” Lance smiles, gaze soft as it travels over Keith’s face. “He’s my friend. My ‘Person’, y’know? And I’m his ‘Person’... I don’t know. It just- It felt like he wasn’t here anymore. Obviously, I’ll still be here for him every time, however he wants me, but I think I’ll always like it better when he’s being rude and demanding. Or complaining.”

The Altean’s mouth quirks. “I’m sure I’ll get an earful about something or other when he wakes.”

That quirk rises into a grin. He loves it when Keith gives him a hard time. It’s one of his ways of showing his love, and that he’s comfortable with him. It’s one of Lance’s favorite things.

Keith stirs in his sleep, whimpers against Lance’s throat. Long brown fingers slide up to his ear, massaging the base in just the right spot. Practiced. Caring.

When he glances up to the silent woman, she’s watching, expression perfectly neutral. When she speaks, it’s not bitter, only quiet. “Why couldn’t you be what I wanted you to be?”

“Do you know, I think you’re the first person to ask me that to my face? Most people I meet just give underhanded comments about whatever aspect of myself they take issue with.” Keith settles against him once more, sinking deeper into sleep with a sigh. Lance takes a moment to smile at him. “But either way, it doesn’t matter. I am who I am, and what I am, and if there’s one thing I’ll never apologize for, it’s that.”

Lance tips his forehead to rest against Keith’s. “He calls me his ‘good man’. I need to live up to that.”

“You’d fucking better.” The woman sighs. “I need to get back up to the compound. Take good care of him for me.”

“You have my word.”

 “So… My arm is dead. And your hair is in my mouth.”

“That sounds like a You Problem,” Keith mumbles, even as he shifts in a weak attempt to restore blood flow to Lance’s arm.

“The burdens of being the big spoon,” Lance murmurs, kissing the back of Keith’s neck while subtly trying to get fur out of his mouth. “Feeling any better? You’ve been sleeping all day.”

“A little. Guess I’ll sleep some more, take a bath, eat something, and then…”

“Find a way to keep busy for two movements?”

“Yeah.” Keith finds Lance’s hand slung over his waist, grips it tight. “I know I shouldn’t make such a fuss about this. It’s all chance, not a big deal if we’re not pregnant, but-”

“It is a big deal. Either way, this is going to dictate how the next few phoebs will go, or the rest of our lives. It’s an especially big deal for you, I know. All those social pressures and everything. But it’s ten quintants. We’ll get through it together, just like we do everything else, okay?”

“Okay.” A restless quiet stretches between them. “I need a bath.”

“You really, really do. Would you like me to run one for you?”

“Rude. But yes, please and thank you.”

“Trust me, I need one too.” Lance gets up, ignoring Keith’s grumbling when he does. “I’ll go first. You go back to sleep, or get a snack, okay?”

The prince kisses his cheek, sets one of Krolia’s leaf-meals next to him on their bed. Keith groans, not at all in the mood to return the affection. He’s so grumpy when he’s tired…

Ancients, Lance loves him.

When Keith finally emerges from the den, he’s freshly bathed, long, thick hair still dripping, hanging loose down his bare back. He’s a bit self-conscious, having noticed almost immediately that he’s lost a noticeable amount of weight. 

Lance, while (suspiciously) vocal of his appreciation for Krolia giving them food, is cooking them some fresh fish out front, complete with bread and vegetables. Keith notices that there’s definitely extra food there, no doubt in an effort to stuff him full of nutrients.

“Hey.” 

“Hey- Hi. How are you?” Lance searches him earnestly, looking for clues. 

“I feel like shit. But you probably figured that. Also, my head hurts from keeping my hair braided for so long.”

“Yes, I figured that. Do you want me to dry your hair for you?”

“Yes, please. But leave it loose.” Keith hands him a towel, sitting beside him on the ground. “I could swear I almost forgot what the sky looked like.”

“Well, right now it looks gloomy.” It does indeed, overcast and thundering. The world is cast in grey light, leeching the bright reds from the earth. Lance gently squeezes water from Keith’s hair, glancing regularly at their dinner to avoid burning anything. “Apparently, the storm ‘system’ that came over when your season started is still passing over.”

“Yeah, it happens this time of year. We’re nearing the monsoon season.”

“I thought you didn’t have seasons.”

“We do, but not temperature-y seasons. We have rainy seasons, dry seasons, harvest seasons, rutting seasons, lots of different seasons, but we definitely don’t have winter.”

“Rutting seasons?”

“The elk. They start bugling and mating and all that stuff. Then they calve, and the wolves have their pups.” Keith lifts his eyes to the heavy clouds. “It’s good you’re cooking now. It’s going to rain again in just a little bit.”

Lance finishes, leaving Keith’s hair ever so slightly damp, but at least no longer dripping. The Galra disappears back into the den, comes out with their cloaks instead of the towel. Lance sighs with relief, grateful for the warmth as a chilled breeze tumbles over them. Keith snuggles close, rests his head on Lance’s shoulder.

“Thanks for taking care of me. You did a good job.”

“Aw, thanks, beloved. It was my pleasure.” The rain finally starts, and Lance sighs. “I hope our food’s done.” 

“Seriously. I want to eat everything right now.” Keith grabbed the cast iron pan of vegetables while Lance pulled the rolls from the stone oven and grabbed the fish, sliding them off the roasting sticks and into the vegetable pan.

“If not, I’ll make a fire inside and finish it for us. Come on.”

They’re inside just as it starts pouring.

“So… When do we start thinking about names for our kits?” Keith sets their food by the inside fireplace, gets a fire going to keep it warm.

“Uh… I’m not sure.” Lance peels off his wet shirt, dropping it on the floor. “My grandmother dictated my and Allura’s name before my mother was even of legal age. Depending on which characters you use, ‘Lancel’ means ‘paladin’ and ‘providence’, or it can mean ‘bloody ruler’.”

“Well that’s a bit on the nose.” Keith scoops BleepBloop into his arms, scratching his little belly. “Which characters do you use?”

“My grandmother was an extremely unpleasant person. I suspect she wished for ‘bloody ruler’, but she died before I was born. My father chose ‘paladin’ and ‘providence’, most likely to spite her... What does your name mean?” Lance’s head pops out of a fresh shirt.

“No idea. I’d have to go to Earth to find that out, and no one alive knows where it is. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Do you want our kits to be like you?” Keith pulls a bread roll from the tray, tearing off half and handing it to Lance. He’ll start out slow, so he doesn’t get nauseous, but Keith’s determined to start gaining weight as quickly as he can. ‘Just in case’, as with most everything he does these days. He’s even dialed back on his training, choosing not to resume his sessions with the Blade following the end of his season.

“I’d rather they be like you. I’m untested, and have little in the way of practical skills. You’ve proven your resilience, and your strength. I want them to have that.” Lance throws himself down in his chair by the table.

“I hope they have your mercy,” Keith whispers. He hops up to sit on the table, planting one of his feet between Lance’s legs. “Your balance. Your ability to learn something new. To listen… You teach them how to be charismatic and leader-y, and I’ll teach them how to kill without remorse and make a shelter and fire starting with two sticks.”

“Oh, Ancients! They’ll be unstoppable!” Lance laughs, scales glowing with humor.

“As long as they’re better than Seran and Renli’s kits, I’ll be happy.”

“That is an incredibly low bar, beloved.” Lance laughs, kissing Keith’s knee. 

“Yeah… They deserve higher expectations. Not the best, because that’s not fair, or our best, because that’s fucking stupid, but I want them to be their best, and always strive to improve. Like you.”

“Like us.” Lance smiles. “And I absolutely agree. The other side of that is that it’s up to us to figure out how our children can use their various strengths and weaknesses to succeed in the high-ranking positions they’ll eventually hold.”

“You’re Alfor-ing,” Keith mutters. “You mean we’ll take an interest in our children and be invested in their lives because we’re their parents. We’ll encourage them to pursue their passions and apply them in a way that befits their status, because we love them and are involved in their lives.”

“Oh. Right…” Lance’s ears droop just a little. He looks sad. Probably because Lance never had a parent do that for him.

“Hey.” Keith nudges the inside of Lance’s thigh with his toe. When those blue-and-pink eyes meet his face, Keith’s mind draws a blank. What does he say to someone who’s just been painfully reminded of the neglect he’s experienced? “I love you.”

Lance cracks a smile. “I love you, too.”

“You’re important to me.”

“You’re important to me, too.” Lance sighs. “Can I have a hug?”

Keith smiles, sliding off the table into Lance’s lap, straddling him as he drapes his arms over the man’s shoulders. “Absolutely.”

Keith kisses his mate, careful to work a smile into it. He forgets sometimes just how desperate Lance is to break his family’s cycle, just how afraid he must be of following in his father’s footsteps (or lack thereof). To Keith, Lance is the man who can’t wait to be a father, who’s champing at the bit to be a king. He’s the man who wants to fix everything, even if he knows it’s not possible.

Tipping forward, Lance rests his head against Keith’s collarbone, and Keith twines fingers in his hair.

“My good man, don’t be sad.” Keith kisses, lays his cheek against his head. “You’re going to be amazing, I just know it.”

“I know.” The Altean draws in a great breath. “I know. I just-”

“Shh…” Keith rubs circles into Lance’s back, somewhat alarmed by his mate’s sudden distress. “We’ll do great, my love. I know it.”

“But why couldn’t he?” Lance whispers, voice trembling dangerously. Keith’s hands freeze. “I wanted it so badly.”

“I don’t know why. But you so deserved it.” Keith’s comforting skills reach their limit. “It’s one of the many reasons I want to punch him in his stupid face.”

Lance laughs, kisses the side of Keith’s neck. “There’s the Keith I know and love.”

“Sorry. I suck at comforting people.”

“It’s okay. You’re amazing at comforting me.” Lance pulls back, smiles up at the man in his lap, eyes rimmed with just a bit of red. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Keith leans down, kisses him deeply, hands cradling his face, thumbs sliding over his scales. Lance’s hands find their way under his thighs, lifting him up as he stands, setting him back on the table.

“Mm, how much do you love me?”

“Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“Never. Not ever.” 

Keith believes his mate, one hundred percent. Not just because Lance’s hands are still on him, but because he just does. 

That doesn’t at all mean that he can’t mess with the man a little.

“We should confront your daddy issues more often.”

“Rude!”

 Quintants later, Lance and Keith have found something to keep them busy: their duties. After movements of neglect, Lanval reports that the people miss them, finding Alfor and Coran (mostly Alfor), less approachable. As a result, the pair are wandering through the imperial library, researching methods of population control and agricultural sustainability. Growth and capacity are constantly at war.

Krolia is on her own ‘research’ mission: how the fuck do Alteans actually think?

“Gentlemen.” Krolia nods as she approaches Shiro and Adam’s table on the other end of the library. “How are you?”

“Well enough,” Shiro says. Adam doesn’t respond, busy composing a message to an associate, named Lanval. Apparently this ‘Lanval’ serves as a sort of spy for the princes, keeping tabs on the general concerns and opinions of the commonwealth and court. “You?”

Krolia hums, lounging in a free chair. “I learned something quite interesting today.” Shiro hums. Adam momentarily lifts his gaze. “It would seem that Crown Prince Lancel isn’t quite what I imagined.”

“Mnh. sounds about right.” Adam doesn’t seem to care how useless his comment is. “How exactly did you finally come to that conclusion?”

“He said he missed Keith while he was in season.”

“Ah.” Adam finally tears his attention away from his desktop, smile more of a smirk than anything else. “He would. He’s sentimental like that.”

“I assumed he liked it any way he could get it, but it seems otherwise.”

“It’s an Altean thing, I think,” Shiro says. “They’re a reserved species, but generally respectful toward their spouses, despite their promiscuity. They can also be very playful with their mates, particularly in private. I’ve observed Keith engaging in playful banter with Lance on more than one occasion. I imagine Lance values that.”

“Lance values what?” Keith peeks his head around a bookshelf.

“You’re affectionate degradation of his character,” Adam says, smiling at the young prince. “Apparently he missed you during your season.”

Keith snorts. “What a dork.” The prince snatches up a scroll. “Hey, dork!”

“Yes, beloved?!” Lance calls from a different aisle.

“You’re a dork!”

“And you’re stuck with me, so what does that make you?” Lance rounds a corner. “Come help me with this. Apparently one of our mines on Arus is compromised. We need to write an emergency missive to close it, because apparently neither the colony nor the natives have the authority to halt production.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Keith frowns.

“We can revisit native citizens’ rights after we get them and our colonists out of dangerous mines, okay?”

“So long as we revisit it… Guess we’d better get to work. Also, we should bring back some windchimes for Hunk’s new kit. Kits love them.”

Krolia watches the two head off to wherever their desk is, Lance taking Keith’s hand, the two bickering back and forth about which one of them is more of a dork. Keith’s tail curls around the altean prince’s ankle, ultimately preventing his escape as he drives a hand into the man’s white hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions.

The prince’s shrieks carry throughout the quiet room.

Adam props his head on his fist, eyeing Shiro with amusement. “Any other anthropological observations you’d like to share, captain?”

“You’re not as chilly as you want everyone to think.”

“Excuse me?” Adam glares, bristling.

“Settle down.” Shiro sips his tea. “I was speaking of your entire species, not you. Though it is interesting that you-”

“Stop talking, or I will make you.”

Krolia settles back in her chair, watching the pair banter themselves, though not in nearly as boisterous a fashion. But before long, her eyes and ears slide in the direction of her son and his problematic mate.

It’s long been her belief that the best thing someone could be is someone like Akira. Someone who’s equal parts frustrated and optimistic, and not above putting their foot down and digging their heels in like a stubborn child. Able to learn, able to understand, able to reach out and extend themselves to others, no matter how different.

Creeping up to observe the pair, watching Lance pour over documents and old, outdated policy, Krolia can’t help but realize that the young Altean is in many ways quite similar to her own mate, right down to the way he’s always giving Keith at least a modicum of his attention, even if it’s to annoy him.

She hates to admit it, but her son could do much, much worse.

With that in mind, Krolia approaches the boys' table. "Have you investigated inspection and mining maintenance procedures and regulations? Perhaps there is some underlying cause."

Lance leans back in his chair, eyeing her carefully. Finally he nods. "I haven't." There's so much caution in his eyes. "Perhaps you'd like to assist with this? We'd appreciate it."

Krolia nods, waiting for Lance to transfer the appropriate documents. A quick scan reveals the problem. "This is extremely outdated, given our peoples' current understanding of physics and changes in mining practices. Let me pulls some documents and I can help you boys draft something new."

Keith wraps his hands around Lance's arm, whispers something in his ear. Lance smiles, nods. "If you would, we'd be very grateful. If you can do that, then we can come up with a plan to help implement new procedures, and provide any resources needed to transition to more appropriate protocols."

It's an unspoken thing, the way Lance gestures for her to sit at their table upon her return, the way he makes room for her books beside his own. When Keith makes tea, there are three cups. When they call for a servant to bring them food, Lance requests three meals. A simple choice -her simple, agonizing choice- means that once again, Krolia has an open seat at her son's table.

She doesn't miss how Lance nudges Keith, the silent look they share. She doesn't miss Keith's smile as he turns back to his letter.

Worth it.

[ghostmartyr]

So if you, like me, have nothing to do but wonder about the state of my inbox, you might rightfully be wondering how I plan to deal with the obscene backlog I have spent so many years failing to deal with.

If you have never wondered that, fear not, that doesn’t exclude you from finding out.

Today we’re just going to go through my entire slew of unanswered asks, and instead of answering them, I am going to provide excuses for why I didn’t do anything with them.

For added fun, several of the asks were in my Drafts.

I will not be cutting out the comments I started to make.

I will no doubt regret this.

Let’s have a time, shall we?

I don’t even know what year this is from. If I remember correctly, I didn’t get back to you because I thought about trying to reason out who would legitimately win, and there were too many points for both sides. I kept intending to come up with a proper answer, then time went by and this got buried.

Though the actual answer is probably “it depends on who gets the main character sticker at the time.”

...

..

.

Well.

I can tell you this is multiple years old.

We, as humans, aren’t equipped for time travel.

I didn’t answer this one because I didn’t feel like it was asking for one, and I’m only reproducing it here because it is really, really funny now.

Two years old. Plus change.

I think the entire reason I never replied to this one is that it cheered me up whenever I scrolled down enough to see it, so thank you.

You know, I entered the link at the time. Really, I did. But then came trying to come up with a comment and what can you really follow that with?

(Click the link.)

Okay then.

I still feel no need to respond to this, so that’s probably why I didn’t to start with.

Historia and literally anyone.

I don’t remember why I didn’t answer this, which usually means some combination of feeling tired and not being in the mood to scroll down to where it was.

Oops.

The thing is, this crosses dangerously close to being a fic idea. Fic ideas take time and effort. You can imagine the absolute dread I felt at having to engage with either concept.

It would have been a lot of fun to do, though. Hats off.

See, again. This is a very interesting concept that requires thought. I can tell you when I received it I was in no mood for anything that required anything of the sort.

I wrote a fic that is possibly never going to see the light of day now where they hang out in a kitchen with hot chocolate together and bond through unstated trauma and Frieda attempting to make things better.

That probably contributed to interfering with imagining how they would actually get along.

Anyway, I ship them slightly in that fic AU. Don’t @ me.

Oh dang. I remember this.

I actually really wanted to answer it, but the problem is that I wanted to come up with a good answer. Every character, tiered by their chances. A full Hunger Games edition of what went down and who killed who.

Then I didn’t.

Anyway, turns out the answer is that no one feels the need to chop of rocking chairs in a hurry, so she’d last a long time!

I didn’t answer this because I try to avoid responding with, “I don’t know.” My secondary answer would probably have been, “By being killed.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with those answers, but unless there’s been a tonal trend in asks, I assume that pithy answers that don’t actually have any meat behind them would not be appreciated.

I would stick to him probably being killed, though. But some signs do point to him being relatively immortal.

Hm.

Hmm.

I don’t know why I didn’t answer this, but I would guess it had something to do with me caring very little about Ymir’s thoughts on anything outside of her little clutch of people. And ongoing trauma of repeated dead/alive Ymir commentary killing off my desire to come up with a good answer.

Sorry?

I... have no idea why I didn’t answer this? Maybe I didn’t see it?

Anyway, yes.

There’s a longer version behind that yes, and I’m sure that might have contributed to never getting around to answering this. ...Assuming a past where I did actually see this one.

I have a confession.

I don’t really like crossovers.

There’s a sliding scale of degree, but that’s basically why this didn’t get a response.

Ah, we’ve landed on a recurring theme.

Sometimes, answers involve me thinking about the entire cast.

The usual consequence of that is I don’t have the energy for that, so nothing ever happens with these.

Oh, this one’s easy.

I had no fucking clue.

No ideas, head empty.

That didn’t seem like a good answer, so here we are, probably around a year later. I still have no clue. If I were forced to write a singing duo AU, I would probably just put some adjectives and nouns into a blender and flip a coin.

Names are hard.

I think I didn’t answer this one because I felt like I’d answered similar asks before. And I’m not really sure when this is from, but it’s possible canon complicated coming up with an answer that wasn’t distressed screeching.

Something something give Connie and Mikasa hugs, not partial about where they get them from.

Apparently not. Oops.

I can’t remember why I didn’t respond to this one. It’s possible the oodles of bad parenting proved too distracting to formulate such a post.

Sometimes I get an ask, and my immediate, gut reaction is, how the fuck should I know?

If I can move past that, the ask is answered.

If I can’t, the ask continues its descent through scroll hell.

I am sorry. There are no answers here.

Yeah, this is just the same as the above, just with I have no idea.

It’d probably be a Madoka Magic deal.

Huh. I don’t remember passing this one over. If I were to guess a timeline, I was probably too bitter over potential post-timeskip looks that I never got to be interested in focusing on the characters lucky enough to get good ones.

Go Connie for being less short, I suppose.

This clearly belonged to something that I was doing, but time has eroded the context, so I am simply left with failure and disappointment on all sides. Sorry.

Aw, we’re getting into the boring part of the inbox now, I think. Not because of the questions; you guys are always great. But I can’t think of a reason why I wouldn’t have answered this, which leads me to think that the reason was I was too tired to put words together.

That’s a boring reason, so maybe I should go into Drafts for the next few...

Yeah, still unfairly prejudiced against crossovers. I am no fun, etc. etc.

I have no memory of it, but I feel like I didn’t answer this because there was no way I could match this kindly anon’s enthusiasm.

You go, random internet person.

You have good ideas.

Oh no.

Uh.

See.

I know exactly why I didn’t answer this one.

I am so sorry, Anon.

I really didn’t care.

I am filled with affection for you because you clearly do, but uh.

...I basically put this on Read.

This has a very simple, ie boring, explanation. Any time someone asks about the cast as a whole, I want to think about the cast as a whole, and that takes a lot more thought than most of the asks I get. Cue putting it off. Cue it getting lost in scroll hell. On and on we go until we end up here.

Anything that opens with kilometers is something that requires more brain power than I have had in the past year.

Also I think I got this during a spoiler week, so I saw it, but I was trying not to look at it, and then it got lost in the post-chapter asks.

That happens a lot.

We might see it more soon.

If I can’t come up with words more than “-shrug-” I try not to answer.

...Good news, though!

The manga did my job for me!

I feel like I answered some variation of this. That might be why I didn’t answer this specific one.

The wiki does a better job keeping track of the timeline than I ever have. I probably didn’t answer this because it would involve trying to remember which volume actually name-dropped a number of weeks or months. Searching for lines I know a character said is pretty easy, but searching out lines I have a vague feeling of someone providing? That tends to hit the frustration button with the force of a truck.

But yeah, if you ever want to know how long something took, the wiki is absolutely your friend. They do good work.

Consider: “What if” questions are hard, and I am lazy.

This is actually one I really did mean to get to, sorry. It’s an interesting thought, and I miss Sasha.

...I clearly did a magnificent job answering your asks, friend.

Prediction asks are hard for me; I feel like I’m throwing darts randomly into the air and the dartboard is still deciding if it’s going to show up. So uh. I guess I just kept putting this off until it didn’t get answered.

This post is going to have so many apologies. Implied and otherwise.

I continue to be the No Fun Police who accidentally-on-purpose avoids crossover commentary.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one entirely because seeing it in my inbox gave me far too much joy to have it lost in a sea of posts.

This is what my inbox was made for.

I have no idea when this was from, but I see your emotions and appreciate them, Anon.

...Did I not see this one?

Hey, Anon who probably doesn’t remember sending this: This is a good ask and deserved some good attention, and I’m sorry I missed my shot at it. Good thoughts.

I didn’t answer this one entirely because I knew I couldn’t match the energy of it, and responding with anything less felt heretical.

That is one hell of a mood, Anon.

This is definitely from the era of, “Can’t think, brain empty.” Sorry about not getting back to you, I just really couldn’t organize my thoughts well enough to come up with an answer.

I feel like I didn’t know what this was continuing from and was too exhausted to ask.

LOOK YOU CAN SEE I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS BECAUSE IT’S A DRAFT.

Too many things, Anon.

I liked so many things about all of that. Trying to turn that enthusiasm into words wasn’t agreeing with me, so I put it in Drafts and told myself one day I’d do the most awesome post detailing everything.

Intentions, huh?

Every time I tried to take a normal screenshot with formatting Tumblr just laughed at me, so that might have been a contributing factor.

Dang, I’m really sorry. This is another one of those cases where I wanted to take my time with a response, and I took too long.

I, uh.

Am guilty of not being too interested in pondering Ymir’s thoughts on Levi or Erwin.

That’s it, that’s the explanation.

Yeah, I just couldn’t come up with an answer here? Or someone else asked? Or several of my friends decided to be annoying about lists on Discord? I don’t even know.

Presumably there could be a list.

There is not.

Honestly, I just couldn’t figure out how to follow that starting sentence up. A thought exercise on Armin, Historia, gender, and themes sounded really interesting, and I put it in Drafts so as not to forget it being interesting.

Then, you know. This post sort of paints the picture.

Ah.

Man, I really was looking forward to putting some proper thought into this. That’s the problem with having so many things I love in one place, I guess. Symbolism? Historia and Ymir? Mikasa? So many good things! Where do I start!

With paralyzing indecision that results in not a lot. Sorry, Anon. This really did light up my day when I got it.

Here’s the thing about me and writing:

I often fail to.

(I love both these ideas, though.)

Yes.

Do I know why I didn’t get around to answering this?

Absolutely not.

But yes, I’d agree with that.

GOOD NEWS!

The manga actually gave us some of them together in the future.

I occasionally giggled over their shared distaste.

It was a good time.

And this is another one I just do not know why I didn’t answer, whoops.

This never got answered because I couldn’t come up with an answer.

Broad questions are scary because they can go just about anywhere and I didn’t know how to handle that level of commitment.

I think I didn’t answer this one, A), because words are hard, and B), because mostly I just wanted to listen to more of your wondering and less of mine.

I probably could have answered this by saying I don’t have any, but that seemed rude, so I didn’t respond to it at all.

Yep.

Frieda is worthy of my time and effort.

Landing this in Drafts instead of my inbox.

Where the lighting makes it more obvious that hope has gone there to die.

I think about it so much too.

I find the answers fundamentally upsetting.

That is probably why I did not provide an answer here.

That is a lot of kids to make up headcanons for.

So I didn’t.

She’s eaten by dogs before she develops a personality.

Since that seemed like the wrong thing to say, I said nothing, and into Drafts this went.

‘I have no earthly clue’ seemed similarly unhelpful.

At this point, we understand that there is no mystery to my backlog.

This one hurts.

-sees the 112 reference-

Wow does it hurt.

As I hope is obvious, I really, really loved this question, and kept meaning to carve out time to work on it specifically. What went sideways was trying to put words to how EMA functions. I knew the feel of what I wanted to express, but every time I tried to write it, it came out wonky.

I’m very sorry I couldn’t do anything for this, because I was thrilled to spend time with it.

I didn’t answer this because Fuck Marley.

It’s nothing against you. At the time, I simply wasn’t in any mood to consider any version of Marley. Even the canon version was too much for me, so giving it my time in a roleswap AU had me hissing.

Roleswaps in general are amazing, and I love them a lot. A dedicated person could make a fantastic one based around Marley and Paradis. I think it would probably be cool af.

But I was so tired of Marley when I got this, I just couldn’t make myself think about it. Sorry. It’s a fun idea.

I didn’t answer this one because I kept trying to extend my response past, “I think he just really likes baseball.”

I think he just really likes baseball.

My feelings on that as a quality answer are derogatory.

Mm. The ones where I actually tried to get something started hurts.

Ultimately, this ask was a larger demand than I could make my brain work through at the time. I made sure to write down the tl;dr version of Sasha’s, because I found that desperately important, and not something that people talk about much, but the additional weight of trying to think of themes for multiple characters made it hard to progress.

Me, looking at the prompts: Hi my brain left me.

Sorry, Anon. Too many gears were moving for me to get a proper feel for what I wanted to do with this one, so I ended up ditching it. ...I was planning to finish it, though. Eventually. See, I even put the quote in the Draft version as a reminder of what I was doing, so I could get back to it right away.

Yeeeeah, this is just one more to the “I will give this wonderful thing all the time it deserves!” pile.

The pile is stored in the Failure Corner.

Perfectionism is the enemy of progress.

You guys really like crossovers.

I love that for you.

-spends two years ignoring you-

I mean, I just didn’t know what to do with the rainbows.

They sure are there.

They sure are pretty.

I sure couldn’t come up with a comment to add.

...I don’t know why I didn’t answer this. Possibly because I think it’s fine? I’m not too attached to it, and spent the whole manga period wanting to watch an anime version instead, then we got an anime version.

I’d guess that my general “meh” feelings interfered with responding here.

No idea why I didn’t answer this.

Yes, and good for you.

I support all thoughts on giving the Reiss kiddos personalities.

I think I didn’t get back to you on this because I wasn’t sure how to encourage you to keep going so I just sat awkwardly on my hands and felt weird about not saying anything.

...Thanks for sharing!

I love how it’s the little things that date these.

Unfortunately, we’re now at the point where 90% of the reason I didn’t answer was because I was too sick to muster up anything approaching enthusiasm.

Or because I’d just finished answering a bunch of chapter-specific things and was burnt out.

This felt pretty self-explanatory to me, so I felt like that gave me permission to ignore it.

Also, it mentions Marley.

I might be slightly petty.

Really though, I think what stopped me from giving a proper answer is that the question of what an author is trying to say throws me off a little. I work better thinking of it in terms of what the story is saying, with the author just happening to be the hands that wrote it all down.

I don’t know. This was probably another case of feeling like I should give this more of my time than I was able.

I couldn’t decide.

That’s it.

That’s the reason.

Everyone needs to give Mikasa a hug.

My blog title for a hug.

-the crossover snake hisses and consumes another-

I am so sorry.

This is fun.

I probably should have just gone with posting and saying so, because I am genuinely charmed by this. I tend to feel like I have to add something to asks to justify the post. That policy maybe didn’t need to be a thing.

I love my anons.

I want that to be clear.

Really, I do.

I especially love their willingness to embrace my crackpot logic.

Still.

Sometimes, the only response one can have to Schrodinger’s Ymir is to ignore its existence, find a pillow, and scream into it for the rest of time.

This replaces typing.

-looks at Armin-

-looks at Eren-

Yeah, don’t know why I didn’t answer this one, either. I blame tiredness? Sorry about that.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one because it felt like work.

This is where I start considering that making this post was a mistake.

I could have just agreed with you and gone about my day.

Probably should have.

Did not.

Another one for that, “had nothing to add so I just left it in a corner, abandoned and unloved,” pile.

There is an apology section at the end, but we’re not there yet.

This one I don’t think I noticed.

Alternatively, I did notice, and wasn’t sure “Yes,” would pass as a good enough answer.

--------------------------------------

Okay, time to really just get into it: I think for the remainder of my inbox, I didn’t answer because physically, I was just too damn exhausted, and I kept waiting for a point in time where I’d feel better. Sorry to put a limit on the personalization, but in the end, that’s all there was to it, and rephrasing it a dozen times will make me crazy.

And here we are.

Well.

Good grief, do you guys even have any clue how much I like all of you?

Obviously there’s a lot of guilt in the above, because I can’t tell you how much I wanted, each time, to give a great answer that would make you thrilled you messaged me. I am so sorry to all of these I didn’t get to. There were days when the alerts in my inbox were the best thing to happen to me, and I never wanted to let any of them go without acknowledgment.

I try to say thank you as often as I can in my responses, because that’s as close as I can get to reminding you all, constantly, that I am grateful for your participation. The only times I don’t say it is when I worry that it’ll look like it’s being done out of habit, not genuine gratitude. Or when I think you might take it the wrong way if I say thanks for a basic conversation. Because you provide me content and make me interested in things I might not normally look twice at.

There are so many instances of people saying hi, and thank you, and wishing everyone well here.

I haven’t been active in the larger fandom in two years, but I have always been so happy that you guys kept dropping by my space anyway.

You are a pleasure and light in my life, no matter how much snark I might throw about.

Thank you all.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding High Ch 20: When The Bough Breaks...

Chapter Summary: Fliss finds herself in an impossible position…and her decision tips Frank’s world upside down.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  I  know I only updated a few days ago with Ch 19 but this one has been written for a wile and I finished yesterday so decided not to wait.

Don’t hate me…

Chapter Song:  Shattered by Trading Yesterday

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist 

And this day’s ending is the proof of time, killing all the faith I know.

“Was that another one?” Frank asked as Fliss tossed her phone onto the coffee table with an angry snort.

She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Frank sighed and looked at her “Honey…” “I know, I know…” she said, looking at him. “Look, I’ve made notes of every time I’ve had one so… its recorded. But again, it’s not like we can prove anything…they happen like twice a day and then nothing…hardly what they’ll call harassment.” Frank shifted slightly “This has been going on for 2 weeks now sweetheart.” “I’m well aware of that.” she snapped, before she shook her head “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry…not at you.” “Come here…” he said, opening his arms and she snuggled into him, leaning against his chest as his hand gently ran up and down her arm. “Maybe you should think about changing your number…and not putting the new one on the website.” “Yeah.” she conceded, “It’s not gonna help for work though…” “You can work round it.” he said, “Keep the business line and if you’re not there people will have to leave a message. Then, once you know your clients…you can give them your cell number.”

“Fucking ass hole is still making my life awkward.”

“Only if you let him.” Frank said gently “It’s a minor inconvenience to change your number but, if in the grand scheme of things all he has in his back pocket is sending you some dumbass birthday card and trying to piss you off with silent phone calls then…he’s just a pathetic fucking loser that’s trying to bully you into being scared.” “I’m not scared, just pissed off.” she shook her head “I know he’s a chicken shit, he wouldn’t dare come near me not when you’re on the scene…or my dad for that matter.” “Good, because if he did I’m not sure I’d be able to control myself.” Frank said softly.

“Maybe we should just pay someone to kill him.” Fliss said after a moment’s pause and Frank let out a snort “Bullet straight between the eyes.”

“Nah, too quick.” Frank sniffed, reaching for his beer “I’d dangle him over a tank of hungry sharks…lower him in inch by inch…”

“Or we could feed him to pigs, like in Hannibal.” Fliss mused.

“That’s also an option…no trace” he said, swallowing a mouthful of beer.

“You know they should teach this shit at schools” Fliss said, reaching for her own drink “How to get rid of bodies. I feel it is something everyone should be educated in.” “Maybe you should mention it to Bonnie.” he said as she took a sip of wine “Tell her you feel it is an educational rite of passage or some other inspiring shit like that…”

Fliss laughed, placing her wine glass down and shifting so that she was led on her front, half on-half off Frank, looking up at him as her chin rest on his chest.

“On a scale of 1 to 10 how much of a meltdown are we facing with Mary on tomorrow morning?”

“From her current mood I’d suspect a good 4 and a half, maybe a 5.” he mused, before he looked at Fliss “I don’t much care, she’s going whether she wants to or not.” “When do the University Classes start again?”

“Not till second week in October.”  Frank replied “Which reminds me, I need to submit that funding form tomorrow…” “It’s on the table.” Fliss said, as she correctly guessed from the look on his face he was pondering where he had put it.”

“What would I do without you?” he grinned down at her.

“I have absolutely no idea.” she shrugged and he smiled and leaned down pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Did you speak to Evelyn before?” Fliss asked him and he nodded.

“She’s coming down this weekend.” Frank said, “She’s still on about Mary going to Boston for a weekend.” “You still not comfortable about her going?” Fliss asked.

Frank wrinkled his nose “I don’t know if I trust her fully yet.” “You’ll never know you can unless you give her a chance.” Fliss reasoned

“You think I should let her go?” Frank said, slightly surprised.

“That’s not my decision to make, Frank” Fliss shook her head.

“No, but I value your opinion.” Frank looked at her. “Go on, tell me what you think.” Fliss hesitated for a moment before she sat up and turned her body so she was facing him, her legs tucked underneath her on the sofa. “If it was me in your position, I’d give Evelyn a chance. She’s played ball so far, done everything you’ve asked her to. You’ve got legal guardianship of Mary so she can’t pull any stupid stunts, and if Mary comes back and tells you something she did that you don’t like, well, you cut the visits.” Frank looked at Fliss before he took another drink from his beer bottle. He was torn in two. In one respect he wanted Mary to be happy and it certainly seemed that she enjoyed seeing Evelyn, but on flip side he was still more than comfortable with keeping his Mother at arm’s length.

“I’ll think about it.” he shrugged, non-committedly.

“Well, you should also ask Mary.” Fliss said “She might not even want to go.” “She will.” Frank said, “Evelyn has a piano.” Fliss laughed “Yeah, but she’s also bossy, remember?”

“Yeah, I had heard that.” Frank said, and Fliss chuckled again.

“Well, can you not think about it right now?” she said, taking the beer bottle out of his hand.

“Hey…” he pouted as she put it down on the table, his pout soon turned into a smirk as Fliss moved so she was straddling him on the sofa, his t-shirt that she’d been lounging around in rode up her thighs slightly and his hands rubbed up the side of her bare skin. “Something on your mind baby girl?”

“What makes you think that?” she asked, sliding her hands up his chest, over the soft material of his top.

“Just a hunch…” he mumbled, as he reached up and gently gripped the back of her neck, pulling her head down to meet his.

****** “Hey Frank…”

Frank looked up and smiled at Alan as he walked into the work shop.

“Hey Alan, not seen you in a while, how you doing?” “Good…I’m good. I was just wondering if I could have a word in my office.”

“Sure.” Frank frowned “Is err, everything ok?” “Oh, yeah, it’s nothing to worry about…quite the opposite in fact…” “Alright, well me just finish piecing this oil filter together and I’ll be with you.”

“Sure.” Alan said, “No rush.”

Frank quickly tightened the filter back up, gave it the once over before he set down his tools and hopped off the boat, wiping his hands on a rag before he walked through the door at the back of the workshop and down the small corridor that led to the main office at the rear of the shop. He knocked sharply on the door and then swung it open as Alan looked at him, gesturing for him to take a seat whilst he finished up his call. Eventually, he bid the person on the other end good bye and placed the receiver down.

“Relax, Frank…” Alan chuckled as Frank adjusted his jeans for what felt like the 30th time since sitting down.

“Sorry.” Frank nodded, scratching at his temple. “So errr, do you need me to do something or...” “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Alan said “As you know Paul is retiring at the end of the year, which means the Head Mechanic role is up for grabs…and I was wondering if you’d be interesting in taking the position.” “Me?” Frank’s eyes widened slightly

Alan nodded “I know in the grand scheme of things you haven’t been here long but you’ve impressed me, just like Bill said you would. You knuckle down, you do the overtime if needed, you don’t complain…I like you Frank, and the team does to.” “I err…” Frank scratched the back of his neck. “I’m flattered…but I’ve never managed a team before or…”

“You were an Assistant Professor at one stage right?” Alan eyed him and Frank sighed, nodding “You must have had a research team…” “Yeah, but…” “It’s no different.” Alan shook his head, “And I’m here to help and give you some guidance. I’m not quite ready to retire fully yet. Not like Bill, only so much golf I can play before I go fucking nuts.” Frank snorted “Yeah, not gonna lie, it’s not my thing…” Alan looked at him “The duties won’t be that much different Frank. You’ll just be in charge of booking the jobs in, allocating them to the guys, keeping on top of deadlines and general management of the team…means a little less time spent actually getting your hands dirty but…well, you can manage that yourself. You wanna take a job you take it.”

“Can I take a bit of time to think it over?” he asked.

“Sure. Take a few days, let me know. I’d like to have whoever is taking over in a position to start the handover by the beginning of October if possible so…” “Thanks.” Frank nodded “I’ll give it some thought.” “Oh, and it also comes with a Ten thou a year raise…” Alan casually dropped in as Frank stood up “Plus a bonus each year of up to 20 percent, depending on how well you’ve done on your targets” “Just a minor detail you forgot to tell me.” Frank arched an eyebrow.

“Well, I wanted to make sure you’d consider it for the right reasons not merely the financial incentive.” Alan shrugged “Another reason I’m convinced you’re perfect for the job.” Frank nodded and with that he left the office. Given that it was almost lunch time he took his break 15 or so minutes earlier and headed out into the September sun, pulling out his phone.

“Hey Sailor.” Fliss greeted him.

“Hey Cowgirl.” he smiled, leaning against the hood of his truck sipping a bottle of water “You got a sec.” “For you, always. What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing bad anyway…I just got offered a promotion.”

“Frankie that’s amazing!” She gushed “You sound surprised though.” “I am, a little.” he said, before he launched into an explanation of what Alan had told him and what the job would entail, plus the financial incentives.

“Wow!” she said as he finished talking “Baby, that’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you!”

Frank felt himself blushing at her praise, and despite the fact he couldn’t even see her he rubbed at his neck slightly. “So, you think I should take it?” “Of course I do.” she said eagerly “But at the same time, if you don’t want to then…you don’t have to. This is a great position to be in honey, Alan’s clearly seen your potential.”

“Just not sure If I’m cut out to be management.” he said, biting his lip.

“I had the same thoughts about my business you know.” she spoke gently “I wasn’t sure if setting up on my own after everything that happened was gonna work but then Dad told me that I’d never know unless I took the plunge. Have a little faith in yourself. The only person who doubts your capability is you.”

Frank smiles at her words and looked up and out over the Marina “You always know exactly what to say.” “Not really, I make most of it up as a go along.” she said and Frank laughed. “But, just think, with the extra money you can get a new car…” “There’s nothing wrong with my truck.” “Frank, it’s died on you 4 times in the last 2 weeks. Dad reckons his ride on lawnmower has more power under the hood than that thing”

“Ok, I’ll admit…she’s getting a little clunky…but she is into her twenties now….” Fliss snorted “You could get yourself a nice Audi…”

“Fuck off.” Frank said and she laughed

“I like Simon’s car…” “You like it so much you get one.”

“Would never fit Thor in the back.” she said and Frank had to concede she had a point “But now you’re freelancing…you don’t actually need a truck do you?” “No, but…it’s handy…” “Handy, baby it only has 3 seats…” “And a flatbed…” Frank pouted slihglty. “So get one with 5 seats.” she shrugged. “You can buy trucks with a full cab…”

“This is not a good enough reason to get me to take the promotion…”

“You want a better reason?” She said. “Ok, well here’s some food for thought…when the lease is up on our place maybe we could look into buying. You know I don’t wanna rent forever, I want us to have something for the future that’s ours, and the extra money you get a year would make a difference in what we can borrow towards it.” And just like that, as always, she’d managed to sideswipe him. He’d be lying if he hadn’t considered getting back on the property market, he had savings after all…but he’d given it no more thought than a fleeting idea every now and then when he drove past places with real estate signs in the front yards

“This mean you’re coming round to the idea of marrying me and having baby Franks and Flisses?” he teased She snorted “You’re such a dick…although that’s the only time you’ve ever mentioned that when you’re sober.” “So you’re saying that if I ask you when I’m not drunk you’d say yes?” he teased. “Goodbye Frank…” She teased in an airy voice, before she cut the call.

Chuckling to himself he slid the phone back into his pocket and headed back inside to grab his lunch from the fridge in the kitchen. As he did so he passed Alan who was heading out with a fresh cup of coffee.

“Oh, erm…Alan…” Frank looked at him. “So, turns out I don’t need as much time to think about it as I thought I did. I’ll take the job.” Alan smiled at him and pat him on the shoulder “Good man. I’ll get the wheels in motion and then we can work out how we start to transfer Paul’s responsibilities over.”

Frank nodded at him as he walked off.

“Oh…” Alan said, “We’ll also need to pick your car.”

“My car…” Frank frowned.

“Yeah, did I not mention? Paul’s BM…that’s a company car. I’m gonna let him keep it as a retirement present so we’ll need to order you another one. Not least because I don’t want my Head Mechanic driving around in that heap of shit you have. Looks like we don’t pay you enough…” Frank stood there, eyebrows raised as Alan simply smirked at him and left. Shaking his head, he gave a little groan, already imagining Fliss’ face when he told her.

*****

Fliss had reacted exactly how he had thought she would, laughing hysterically and then teasing him about how he had no alternative now than to get rid of the heap of shit he was ridiculously attached to. She’d then spent the evening looking at cars on her phone, showing him ridiculously pimped out vehicles in various vile colours, the final straw being a hot-rod red Mustang with gold rims and flames painted down the side. At that point he’d snatched the phone out of her hand, grabbed her hips and pulled her down under him on the couch and given her something else to think about for half an hour or so.

September ticked by, in the usual speed by which time seemed to be flying for Frank and he found himself thrown into his job, soaking up Paul’s experience of managing the team as much as he could. He was also extremely grateful for both Fliss and Bill’s input, both of them having dealt with managing staff and rotas so he was able to ask them both questions as well. Naturally, when V heard about it she insisted on cooking him a special dinner, and even Evelyn presented him with a very nice bottle of Scotch when she came to visit as a Congratulations.

Another bit of good news for them was that once Fliss changed her phone number the calls stopped as well. Frank was glad about that, because it meant that once again they’d thwarted the ass holes attempts to intimidate her. She’d made a blog, however, of every call she had gotten which now sat in Greg’s files along with the Card. Just in case.

Nope, on the whole life seemed to be going well for the pair of them.

“Someone’s looking smug…” Greg teased Frank as he leaned back in the chair around Greg’s large outdoor table. It was a Saturday at the start of October and they’d finally got round to having that cook out and gathering that the Circle of Truth had been attempting to organise round everyone’s schedule for the last 3 months.

“Well, you know…life’s pretty good.” Frank smiled, sipping his beer, his eyes straying to Fliss who was stood around the bar area to the right of the garden with Bonnie, Zara and Lisa. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a tie-died off the shoulder sweater but as usual, she looked stunning.

“You got a ring yet?” Jake asked, dropping down into a seat next to him.

“Oh don’t you start as well.” Frank groaned as Simon and Greg both laughed. “We’re happy as we are…besides, we’ve not even been together a year yet…” “Not far off.” Jake shrugged “Man, when you know you know…” “He’s just scared she’ll say no.” Simon teased. Frank stilled for a moment and then turned to glare at the man. “Shit, you are?” Simon frowned “No, not especially but…” Frank shook his head, trying to find the words to explain “I’m absolutely, totally convinced I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I know she feels the same but…well she’s been married before and I don’t want to ask until I know she’s ready to do it again.”

Greg looked at him, nodding “I get that.”

“That’s gotta be the most grown up think you’ve ever said…” Jake looked at Frank who flipped him off but deep down he had to admit, it wasn’t wrong. He knew that both he and Fliss had come a long way from the people they had been just over 14 months ago when they had first met. Fliss had come alive, flourished even in herself, and he…well, he’d learnt that there was more to life than a meaningless cycle of one night stands and that flying by the seat of his pants wasn’t always the most productive thing to do. Both of them had been broken in their own way, had their own guards and walls around themselves which the other had managed to smash straight through. He stole another glance at Fliss and smiled, he knew there was no other woman for him, but in the same breath…what was the rush? They had a life time. And a ring and a piece of paper wasn’t going to change any of that.

“Man you grew up…” Simon said, and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ll have you know I’ve brought up a kid since the age of 6 months…all this shit about me being a man child…It’s crap…”

“Whatever man…we all know you’re not a grown up until you have scatter cushions on your sofa…” Simon teased, referencing the previous week when he and Bonnie had come over for drinks and Fliss and Frank had had a jokey argument about the cushions on the sofa. Frank threw his head back in a huge bout of laugher, shaking his head.

“Fuck you!” he said, looking at him as Simon grinned.

“Anyway, man…speaking of weddings…” Greg turned to Jake “You’ve been engaged for what? like 3 years now…when you gonna set a date?”

“He has a point…” Simon looked at him.

“Well, you can all shut the fuck up because for your information we have.”

“Shut the front door!” Greg grinned

Jake nodded and took a large mouthful of his beer.

“So you gonna tell any of us or…” Jake glanced over at Lisa before he yelled her name and she looked over at him, the other women also looking up.

“Can we tell them now babe?” he called. Lisa grinned and nodded, and then made her way over followed by Zara. Fliss looked at Bonnie who shrugged, and the two of them picked up their drinks and followed.

Fliss perched on Frank’s knee and he slid one hand round her waist the other dropped to her thigh.

“So, we have set a date for the wedding.” Lisa smiled to a huge shriek from Zara. Frank spotted Fliss looking at Bonnie, the two of them sharing a significant smirk and he squeezed her thigh.

“Stop being a bitch.” he said in a low voice.

“Rude…” she mumbled, grinning into her gin.

“6th April next year…” Jake grinned. “At Hardemans Secret Garden in Dover, Tampa.” “Well unless you invented a time machine, it ain’t gonna be this year is it?” Simon looked at him, before he gave a yell as Bonnie slapped him round the back of the head.

“Obviously you’re all invited.” Jake said, “Except for Simon.” “Hang on, if he isn’t coming does that mean I can’t?” Bonnie pouted.

“You can be my plus one.” Fliss nodded.

“Oi…” Frank said, nipping her thigh gently. She grinned at him, ruffling his hair slightly. He jerked his head out of her reach and looked at her over his aviators. She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned.

“Guys this is great news…” Greg said, nodding “Best dig the suit out.” “You wear a suit to work every day.” Zara looked at him.

“And you won’t need to.” Jake shook his head. “In fact none of you will…my brother is best man, obviously, but I’d like you guys there as my Groomsmen…that is, if you’re up for it.” Frank smiled at Greg, then Simon before they all shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m in…” Greg smiled,

“Me too pal, I’m honoured.” Frank smiled, tipping his beer bottle in Jake’s direction.

“Does this mean we get to plan the Batchelor party?” Simon asked. Jake nodded with a grin and Simon leaned back “Oh this is gonna be beautiful….”

***** “You’re fucking mental.” Frank looked at Fliss as she shrugged, circling Cap back round to the jump which Joanne had just hiked up another foot. He shook his head and turned away “I can’t watch.” “Don’t’ be a chicken Frank.” Mary grinned up at him, “It’s cool…I wanna do that some day.” “Over my dead body.” Frank looked down at her.

“Yeah you said that about me going to Boston…” “No, that’s not what I said.” Frank sighed, looking at her “I said over my dead body were you going to live with Evelyn….and did you?” “No…” Mary conceded “But you’re letting me go back for a weekend.”

“Yes, because you’re going for 2 nights and coming home” he said, and despite himself he turned his head to see Fliss sail Cap over the huge jump.

“See….” Fliss said, pulling the horse up to a stop “Easy…” “Whatever you say sweetheart.” he shook his head.

“Can I jump Monty soon?” Mary asked, and Fliss smiled.

“Yeah we can do a little cross pole…” “I give in…” Frank groaned, throwing his hands out to the side “The pair of you are nuts…”

“Says the guy who almost cried when he had to order a new car.” Fliss looked at him and Frank rolled his eyes “I mean who does that?” “Yeah Frank…” Mary said, swinging off the fence to the paddock, leaning back to look at him. “You get to swap a rust bucket for a shiny new Mitsubishi  truck and you were like heartbroken.” “Hey, me and that truck have seen a lot of action-“

“I don’t wanna know…” Fliss started.

“Of which you’ve been part of…” he smirked her and she flushed a little, grinning. “I’m kinda attached to it.” “It’s a lump of metal.” Fliss looked at him.

“How dare you.” Frank scoffed, feigning offence.

“Well now you can have new adventures in the new truck.” Mary shrugged “Simples.” “When you do get it I vote the first thing we do is load it up and head off for a picnic somewhere.” Fliss said, hopping off Cap.

“I can go with that.” Frank nodded as she turned and walked towards the gate, letting her out.

“Can I take him?” Mary asked, hopping down off the fence.

“Sure…” Fliss said, handing her the reins. Mary led the horse away to the barn as Fliss removed her hat and pulled out her bobble, shaking her long hair free before she tied it back up again.

“I really do like it that colour.” Frank mused after a second, watching her. She blushed a little, and he knew why. A week ago she’d come back from the salon, her usually bright auburn hair was a lot more demure, having had caramel and dark brown put through it. When Frank had complimented her on the change she’d gotten a little shy and said that she used to have it like that when she was younger, but upon splitting with John had decided she wanted a completely different look. Now she felt like she wanted to go back to who she was, not needing to put that distance between her and her past anymore. Her admission had once again, knocked him for 6, how simple little things like that were so huge for her. He was also beyond happy she felt like that too.

She pulled off her riding gloves, shoved them into her back pocket and they walked into the barn as Mary opened Cap’s stable and led him inside. As always, the large horse bowed his head gently to allow Mary to undo his bridle and Fliss smiled. Cap was secretly her favourite after Heidi. He was such a loving animal, despite his size always being so gentle and careful around people, especially Mary. Most animals were like that around her, she just had this aura that they seemed to like. But then again, everyone said that animals were a good judge of character.

“Can we go to the shack for dinner?” Mary spoke up, looking at Frank “It is Saturday…”

“Oh, I dunno…” Frank sighed, “Not sure my heap of shit truck will get us there.” “No but Fliss’ jeep will.” Mary shrugged and Frank shook his head with a snort.

“You literally have an answer for everything.”

“Wonder where she gets that from…” Fliss looked at him and he nudged her gently with his elbow.

“So can we go or not?”

“Yes, ok we can go to the shack.” Frank said “But the deal is you tidy your room when you get home. It’s a disgrace.” Mary pondered this for a moment as Fliss undid the girth on Cap’s saddle, pulling it off.

“Deal.” she nodded “Only Fliss said she was gonna help me sort my clothes out…some of them don’t fit anymore.”

“Yeah we do that tomorrow morning.” Fliss smiled, “Then we can look at ordering you some warm stuff for New York.” “oooh yeah, are we still getting matching sweaters when we get there?” “No.” Frank said, at the same time Fliss nodded.

“Yes.” “No, we’re not.” Frank looked at her.

“Errr 2 vs 1 Sailor, you’re outvoted.” she shrugged, pushing past him with the saddle on her arms. “But if you’re a good boy we’ll let you pick them right Mary?” “I dunno.” Mary frowned “Have you seen his shirts?” Fliss let out a roar of laughter and turned to face her, before she looked at Frank, laughing even harder at the pure indignation on his face.

“I hate you both.” he said sullenly, folding his arms.

The Shack was busy by the time they arrived but given that it wasn’t too cold they managed to find a small table outside and ordered their food, Mary getting through an astonishing amount considering but the Frank had noticed she was going through a bit of a growth spurt which he mentioned to Fliss when they were snuggled up on the sofa later.

“Not sure getting her any stuff for New York yet is wise.” he mused “If she carries on like she is it won’t fit her.”

“Well we can wait…Fliss said shrugging, her hand rubbing at Frank’s stomach under his shirt. “You have no idea how excited I am…” “Really?” Frank snorted “You never mentioned it.” “Oh piss off” she laughed, before she sighed happily “It’s the one thing I miss about home and Boston…you know this time of year the leaves would be changing colour and falling,…”

“I know what you mean.” he said, his hands carding through her hair “You don’t really Seasons here.”

“Well you do…” Fliss said, “Hurricane and Summer.” Frank let out a laugh as she looked up at him. “You know you’re my hurricane.”

“What?” he looked at her

“Came into my life, blew it all upside down…” “Jesus you talk some shit!” he laughed, shaking his head as she grinned.

“You know there was actually a hurricane Frank back in 2010.” she said “So I’m not talking complete shit…” “Whatever Sweetheart…” he snorted, leaning back as her nails scratched against his skin. He gave a twitch and grabbed her wrist, and looked down at her as she flashed him a coy look. “Stop it.”

“What, this?” she moved and used her other hand, and Frank let out a hiss as he shifted and grabbed that one too.

“You know what that does to me…” he looked at her, his voice low.

“Yup.” she nodded, grinning.

With a jerk of his arms he pulled her forward so she fell onto him fully, drawing a giggle from her as her nose bumped against his.

“I fuckin’ love you.” he smiled at her, and she grinned, giving him a soft kiss.

“Yeah, you’ve told me once or twice…” she smirked, her lips locking onto his.

******

“Fliss?”

“Office…” she called back, and a second or so later Joanne popped her head into the room.

“Everything’s done.” she said, “I was gonna lock up…you’re not normally here this late.”

“Yeah I know but I have some paper work to sort. Need to file a couple of things and, well, thought it would be easier to do it here than take everything home. Frank’s taken Mary bowling so…” “And you’d rather be here doing paper work?” Joanne teased.

“Sadly, it needs doing…besides, last time we went I kicked his ass, again, he sulked for hours.” Fliss snorted “Maybe he stands more of a chance against Mary.”

“Won’t he let her win?” Joanne asked “I mean, she is only 8…”

“Have you met Frank?” Fliss looked at Jo. “He says that she needs reminding every now and then that she’s not a genius at everything…” Joanne let out a laugh “Fair enough. Ok, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, by Jo…”

Fliss set about getting to work, filing the various bills and disclaimers she’d had signed and started then sifting through the list of clients and payments, checking who owed what and typing out the bills for the month. Once they were printed and placed in envelopes, ready to be tacked to the stable doors in the morning she glanced at the clock and realised it was almost 8 pm.  Frank and Mary should be home now.

She was just about to pack up when she realised she hadn’t gone through the post for the day. For a second she debated leaving it for the morning, but decided she would get it over with. There wasn’t much- mostly a couple of letters from various equestrian societies around the area about a few events going on, but the last one she reached was a manila envelope with the address typed out on the front.

She turned it over, opened it and then pulled out the contents and immediately felt her blood run cold as she looked at the paper in front of her. It was a copy of the photo of her and Mary, taken from the first Blog that Mary had written over the summer. Underneath it was typed a simple message- I always knew you’d suit motherhood.

Fliss swallowed, it didn’t take a genius to work out who it was from but for the first time since his ridiculous campaign now she was actually frightened as to the meaning behind this. Up until now it he’d been nothing more than annoying but this was designed to be more than an aggravation.

It was a threat. A direct threat telling her he knew about Mary.

Whilst Fliss wasn’t Mary’s mother, and would never claim to be she loved that girl like she was her own and the fact that John was even brining her into this made her feel physically sick, so much so that she felt the bile rising in her throat and with a sharp heave she lurched to the side, grabbing the waste paper basket and hocking up the bitter substance. Coughing she wiped the back of her mouth with a shaking hand, reaching for the bottle of water on her desk.

She folded the photo up and stuck it back in the envelope, shoving it in the drawer before she stood up and locked her office, heading to her jeep. Her mind was reeling, now it wasn’t just her he was focussing on, this changed everything. Did she tell Frank? She knew she should, she couldn’t leave Mary in danger. Not that she believed any harm would come to her, not really, especially not under Frank’s care but that was another worry she had. That if she told Frank this, it was really going to push him over that edge into blind rage, and he’d been on the first plane out to Boston, hunting the fucker down…and then what?

He ended up in jail himself because Fliss knew Frank well enough to understand that if that blind rage took hold, he wouldn’t stop.

She had no answer to this, nothing. She sat in her jeep, staring out of the window, trying to force the thoughts and mumbles and voices in her heat to quiet, so she could think clearly, get some form of grasp on what it was she needed to do. And then one voice was screamed at her, clearly, giving her a solution…the only one she could viably see working.

With a loud sob, Fliss covered her face in her hands, unable to see an alternative to the decision she had just reached. A decision that was going to break her heart more than anything had ever done before.

******

“Hey, you’re late…”  Frank looked up, immediately frowning as he saw Fliss’ face. “Honey…what…” “Where’s Mary?” she asked instantly.

“She nipped to Roberta’s” Frank said “I know it’s late but we saw her as we were headed out of the car and she wanted to collect something for Show and Tell tomorrow…why?”

“We need to talk.” Fliss said.

Frank stood up off the sofa and walked towards her, he reached for her and she took a step back.

“Ok, Fliss, you’re scaring me now…what…”

“I think…” Fliss looked down at her hands “I think that we need to stop seeing each other.” Frank blinked, not sure he had heard her right, but when he looked at her he saw a tear trickling down her face and she was avoiding his gaze. The world around him began to fade and a dull buzzing filled his head and rang around his ears as a horrible cold feeling washed over him.

“Lissy…” he swallowed, his words sticking in his throat “What’s brought this on? Did I do something? Are you not happy? I don’t understand…” “I just…it isn’t working for me…” she said, taking a deep breath and looking up at him. “You’re lying.” he said instantly, he could see it written all over her face “Fliss, what’s going on?” “Nothing, I’m sorry. I just…I need to leave, I need space.” she said “I’m so sorry Frank…” Frank took a deep breath, and watched as she turned to leave. After a second he hurried after her into the hallway, shaking his head.

“Lissy, please…talk to me…” he all but begged as she walked to the door. She made to open it but Frank was behind her and placed his hand firmly on the top of the PVC, causing it to shut. She spun round and looked up at him, the tears now pouring down her face.

“Please, Frank…don’t make this any harder than it is…” her voice was broken, and she shook her head. “I don’t understand what THIS is?” he looked at her, running a hand through his hair as he felt the stinging of tears in his own eyes “Last month we were talking about buying a house together and now you just wanna break it off, for no reason? Baby, just…whatever is going on, we can work through it, just talk to me.”

“I’m so sorry…” she whispered, “Just…let me out…please…”

He looked at her again, her eyes bouncing across his and he knew instantly he couldn’t stop her, and would never do that to her either, no matter how much he so desperately wanted to lock the door and force her to tell him what the fuck was going on. So with a sniff he forced himself to step back and her hand went to the door knob, her shoulders shaking.

“Liss, please…” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t do this…”

She took a deep breath and opened the door, the warm air from outside hit him in the face before the click of the latch hit his ears as the door shut behind her, leaving him stood alone in the hallway, stunned and utterly, utterly broken.

[daggerzine]

The Simon Provencher interview (by Tom Murphy)

Simon Provencher is perhaps best known for his frenetic and creative guitar work for the post-punk band VICTIME out of Québec. But on March 26, 2021 the musician released his debut EP Mesures via Michel Records. It is six tracks of free jazz collages that bear favorable comparison to the avant-garde compositions of Anthony Braxton as Provencher makes creative and playful use of clarinet, electric guitar, percussion and processing to convey a strong sense of mood and place while making one very aware of aspects of the environment around us we often tune out. In pairing aspects of exploratory jazz and musique concrète, Provencher has given us an album that is both soothing and keeps us grounded in the present. The composer and musician recently answered some questions we presented to him via email about the nature of his music, its inspirations and methods of crafting its elegantly evocative passages.

 Dagger Zine (Tom Murphy): Mesures will probably hit some people's ears as akin to a free jazz or spontaneous composition type of record. How did you approach putting together these songs and experimenting with sound compared with maybe how you do with VICTIME?

Simon Provencher: People wouldn’t be wrong in these assumptions at all. Mesures is a record that was written very quickly. I decided to trust my first instincts for much of the record. With VICTIME, our approach has always been more iterative. By that I mean that we’ll loop “embryonic” parts over and over again, slowly changing elements, morphing the composition until we found ourselves happy with how everything sounded together. I’m still very much into this way of writing, but Mesures was a much more immediate affair.

For me, inspiration almost always comes from timbre, usually through loads of guitar pedals. In this case though, I wanted to see what sounds and textures I could get out of the electric guitar without using any external effects or even amplification. Timbre was still my main concern, but in a more subtle way I guess. I slightly detuned the strings and experimented with resonances, chord shapes, finger placement, fingernails, etc. I also “prepared” the guitar: I jammed objects between the strings and tied sewing thread to the strings (if you pinch the thread with slightly wet fingers and slide them around, you get eerie, reverse-like effects).

Enough about me though, another big change was that this record was made remotely with two new collaborators, Elyze Venne-Deshaies (clarinet) and Olivier Fairfield (percussion). Both of them had “carte blanche” (pardon my french) to do whatever they wanted. I can’t speak much to their personal approach to improvisation, but both of them are seasoned veterans and delivered absolutely amazing performances.

 D: Some people might think of any kind of music declared experimental is a barrier to its acceptance but your album seems to me very accessible as a form of pure expression. Do you have a sense of why your songs seem so open and, as one reviewer put it, welcoming?

 S: I don’t quite know actually. I do agree that the songs have a certain softness to them that was certainly somewhat intentional. When I did the initial guitar parts, I did set out to make something conventionally “beautiful”, or at least “not harsh”. I don’t really have the vocabulary to describe what happened there, but the resonances, repetitions and patterns definitely implied a soft mood from the get go.

I guess this foundation inspired Elyze and Olivier to also play with softer tones, to approach the music with warmth and subtlety in mind. They really “got” the vibe of the music without me ever telling them anything about my intentions. A “shift” of some kind happened when the clarinet parts were added to the drums and guitars. I felt like the mood of the pieces almost completely changed (in a positive way, of course). I think there’s something to the linearity of Elyze and Olivier’s playing, in contrast with the repetitive, hypnotic guitars that gives the music a sense of wandering aimlessness which I really love.

On the audio engineering side, I did intentionally mix the songs with a certain softness in mind. We added some warm tape saturation to some of the sounds and carved out a lot of higher frequencies. On the songs with feedback and noise, Simon Labelle, who mastered the record, made it so that when the clarinets get louder, the high-frequency content ducks out of the way a little bit. This nifty little trick does help out a lot with making the noisy songs more warm and inviting too.

 D: Listening through the album I found it resonated with the albums of Anthony Braxton and Ornette Coleman. The former of which never considered his music part of jazz though he is often associated with that form of music and the latter who expanded the range, dynamics and tonal choices of jazz. Were you inspired by in any way by those forms of abstract yet emotionally expressive music? How might you describe its impact on what you've done?

S: I totally was! I discovered Anthony Braxton through Québec jazz guitar great René Lussier. I’ve been a fan of Le Trésor de la Langue for a while and I got into his back catalog last year: his collaborations with Fred Frith, EAI stuff and more, some of which was released on “Les Disques Victo”. “Victo” stands for Victoriaville, a small city between Quebec and Montreal, where there’s a great contemporary music festival named FIMAV. Shamefully, I haven’t actually been to FIMAV yet, but I’ve loved finding recordings of some amazing concerts, a favourite being Anthony Braxton and Derek Bailey’s 1987 Moment Précieux. I was amazed to find out about this rich local history of musical experimentation and improvisation. This record was very much inspired by the whole FIMAV sound.

Coleman is another great point of reference. His records and those of his collaborators, Don Cherry being another big one, all are major inspirations. As a guitar player, I especially got into James “Blood” Ulmer’s career. I really admire his approach to guitar and the immediacy and expressiveness of his music.

 I’m probably paraphrasing it all wrong, but Don Cherry said of Ornette Coleman’s “harmolodic” approach that instead of improvising from chords, like in bebop, you’d start with melodies and improvise to create new forms, harmonies, rhythms to try and reach a certain “brilliance” as he calls it. You’d try to make the music transcend. In harmolodic theory, melody, rhythm and harmony are treated as equals, no solos, no lead and accompaniment dichotomy, no strict timing, scale or tonality.

This is both quite simple but also quite hard to actually grasp in a musical setting, and I’m far from mastering any of it, nor is it necessarily something I strive for, but it is an inspiring way to conceive improvised music for sure.

 D: The first half of the album you make great use of what sounds like atonal melodies yet they perfectly convey the mood and lend a sense of texture. What informed employing those sounds in the songwriting?

S: I’ve always written music without much regard for tonality, key, etc. My musical background is still very much anchored in No Wave and noise music, where skronky chords and weird, unstable melodies are the norm rather than the exception. When playing, I really don’t think much about it, I follow what sounds good to me in the moment.

Looking back on the recorded music though, I feel like there is a lot of nuance to be found in atonality and imperfection. Detuned chords ringing out have such complex and interesting decaying resonances, you can almost hear the frequencies battling each other. These interactions between notes and lines that fall just short of resolving are part of the magic and intrigue of abstract music. In the case of Mesures, I think there’s something special with how some of the atonal, out of tune textures and weird synths clash beautifully with the in-tune clarinet parts, making either one “pop out” depending on where you focus your attention.

 D: The second half or at least the second three songs on the album use processed drones and what some might call noise underneath or in the background, although very much a presence in the mix, of the clarinets? What do you feel this almost contrast in sounds conveyed that say a more conventional arrangement might not?

The second half of the record is basically a rearrangement of the first three songs. There’s four clarinet parts in there! On the first side, they fade in and out of focus, but on side B, everything is there all at once.

This is basically the result of me simply “soloing” the clarinet takes in my DAW (Digital Audio Workstation, the software used to arrange and mix the music). When I heard the four clarinets at once, I really fell in love with the sound.

 So I knew I wanted this to be the focal point of the rearrangement, and I knew I wanted to add something. I just happened to be working with feedback that week, so it kind of fell in place. Feedback manipulation was a technical interest first, I had gotten a new guitar pedal called a Feedback Looper, which sends some of your output signal back into the input of a series of pedals. This creates self-oscillating and rich, detailed noises that are somewhat interactive and malleable. By turning some knobs and flicking some switches on ordinary guitar pedals, you end up with an infinite amount of possible glitches and shrieking high frequency tones.

I don’t know if my ears got accustomed to it or what, but I’ve come to really enjoy the sound of this process. I also really love the tactile aspect of it, it feels kind of like an unpredictable modular synthesizer. When I had recorded the feedback improvisation, which I did in one single take, I thought this sparse, harsh rearrangement was a nice contrast with the more warm, conventional first three songs. At that point, the record felt complete.

 D: The final three songs also remind me of Philip Glass in his soundtrack work wherein he mixes the playful and flowing with the dissonant. How would you say these sounds complement each other in your own music?

S: Especially on this release, while there are a lot of sounds that are contrasting with each other, I also feel like there is a sense of shared directionality. The song Et quart is a good example of this. The high feedback notes start out in almost complete opposition to the meandering low clarinet lines, but, as the song progresses, the sounds somehow seem to merge with each other and they end up flowing in the same direction for the song’s climax.

 D: What are some other artists operating now that you find interesting and/or inspirational and resonant with what you're doing?

There’s way too many to name them all, but I’ll try! I think there’s a very interesting local-ish scene around me. I admire the work of N NAO, either her solo releases or her collaborations with Joni Void. Sarah Pagé does mind-bending music with harp and effects; I’ve had the pleasure of catching her live in Ottawa just before the pandemic started last year. Kara-Lys Coverdale is also a major inspiration, so is Kee Avil, whose live show and guitar playing blew me away.

I also need to shout out my friend (and bandmate) Mathieu A. Seulement, whose end-year list allowed me to catch up on a lot of fantastic new music, including, but not limited to Ana Roxane’s Because of a Flower, Jasmine Guffond’s Microphone Permission, Caterina Barbieri’s Ecstatic Computation and, last but not least, Holly Herndon’s magnificent Proto.

  **the three Simon photos were taken by Charlotte Savoie

www.simonprovencher.bandcamp.com 

[killmebutneverinsultme2]

Rules for mobile (Pinned Post)

The Code

Success. I’ve sufficiently pestered the wench to make me a blog, much to the cost of a certain behorned mischief god whose presence I must share. Follow the rules below, and there’ll be smooth sailin’, savvy?

This be an exceptionally selective blog. I was me mun’s first ever muse yonks back and I’ve pestered her into writing me again, BUT, she’s horribly pressed for time. Partners will likely be very few, else ones doubling up with Loki’s. Anyone is welcome to approach and enquire, but she and I will be leaning toward those either from me own universe or crossovers with which she’s highly familiar and characters in whom she’s especially interested. Ye have been warned.

Replies are like to be slow, up to a few weeks at most.

Partners must be 18+. Various themes of an adult nature may be found here. Sexual things will be tagged ‘#filthy pirate’ with whatever level/variety of sin I deem them. More details below.

Behave. There shall be no rudeness, no passive aggression, no hate, no censorship or generally being a twit. Do I make meself clear?

The Code - Extended (below the cut)

Hi, guys. I’m Pirate (oddly known as this long before I made Jack a tumblr). Here are my more detailed rules and guidelines for writing with me on this blog, though the absolute basics are at the top as, honestly, it’s never easy to remember everyone’s requirements.

Jack is a sideblog. If you’re being followed by a benevolentgodloki that means I’m following you back. I don’t need us to be mutuals (both following each other) for us to write together, but there is a greater chance of us having a partnership if we’re letting each other know we’re interested.

How I Roll

I note myself as ‘highly selective’. This isn’t to be an elitist bugger, it’s because we all only have a limited amount of time we can put in. I want to write what I enjoy with people I enjoy. I am married with two attention-seeking cats, two jobs, a slow-brewing intended writing career and a video game addiction.

Asks/Memes - I will usually answer these no matter who they are from but I may or may not turn them into a thread I intend to keep. Some memes are very much designed to be something that continues so context can be key. If you would like to know in advance whether I intend to answer and/or keep something, please do pop me a message and I will be kind and honest.

My Threads - While Jack’s blog is still exciting and new, I’m being a bit all over the place with who and what I reply to depending on which way Jack’s.. compass.. is pointing. I do have a rolling turn order that I adhere to (to the point that I can genuinely tell you who is next at any given moment) but it’s all piled in with Loki’s threads, meaning I can take a few weeks to get round everything. Every partner gets one of their threads answered within that ‘round’ and then I go round again. However, when I’m really into something/finding something easy to pop back, I treat myself to spamming certain threads or partners at my whim. I use rpthreadtracker.com to maintain what I have. 

I will remind partners of threads that have not been replied to for more than three months. If I do not do this, I have either forgotten/lost it myself, I’m not too fussed about keeping it at that stage, or you were absent for a long period of time. 

My Style - I will write in both past or present tense depending on partner preference. My default is past but I like either. Please kick me if I screw up and write the wrong one. I prefer using regular size font but I will make mine small on replies to people who use the smaller so that it looks neat. I will often match partners’ lengths and some formatting details e.g. bolding dialogue, but I struggle with doing novella-length posts for reasons below.

I have a bugbear to admit about role-play. What we call splicing. A good half of my partners write this way so I’m not about to tell everyone to stop but if you’re someone who does this, you will occasionally run into some frustrations when writing with me. ‘Splicing’ is when you retrospectively write dialogue or actions as having previously happened during your partner’s last post. These things are fine when they’re passive i.e. your character muttered them, thought them or you were writing what your character was doing at the time because that’s pretty much essential. The trouble comes usually when my characters talk a lot/ask rhetorical questions and partners choose to answer every single one despite the fact my character carried on talking. I know it’s an ass that I have talkative muses and you really want to respond to every point/get a word in, but putting words and actions into the past effectively godmods my muse into accepting they happened. If you feel your muse would have full-on interjected midway through their ramble, please ask me to edit my post/stop it at that point. Otherwise if you do prefer to splice, my muse will only respond to whatever it is your character did or said last in their post. This is one of the reasons I can’t write novella, because often there is only so much you can write before you’re stepping into the territory of changing what went before and not allowing your partner to do anything about it.

TL;DR don’t ever worry about your post being too short for me. If it’s one sentence long but it’s because something fast-paced is happening, I won’t be miffed.

Shipping! - no not that kind of ship, Jack. I love shipping. Ships all around. Let’s face it, romance can be one of the most exciting reasons we bother writing. I am open to a lot of ships for Jack, practically all of them. Yes, even that one. I will do downright nasty, toxic, horrible stuff, savvy? It’s fiction and Jack is a great indulgence for bad things happening to him as much as good. That said, of course don’t force something on him without prior agreement between us. Well, I mean, your muse can try and accost him and see what he does, just don’t expect him to definitely reciprocate. Jack and I are bi/pansexual. We’re open to everything. I will admit a heavy lean toward m/m but, that said, Jack is extremely fond of the ladies, more so than Loki. I am very into Sparrington especially.

Not Safe For Ye Olde Work

Sliding down from the above topic, I enjoy the occasional smutting. It is not a requirement from my partners. In fact, I’m warming very much to fading to black depending on the context/mood/if things feel a bit repetitive. I do feel a touch more comfortable with partners who don’t need that boundary but as I’ve recently figured ‘if it needs a cut, then it’s smut’ I know when to skip on.

Saucy material will go under cuts/Read More’s and be tagged as mentioned above with ‘filthy pirate’. Additional tags will be based on the citrus scale: ‘lime’ for general grabbing, ‘lemon’ for full on sexual content and ‘grapefruit’ if things get extra kinky. I will tag things such as ‘rape tw’ or ‘noncon tw’ or ‘dubcon tw’ where necessary. Please blacklist any or all of these at your leisure, or search them if you fancy :U I do NOT tag these as ‘ns.fw’ because tumblr just completely hides them from being searchable which is useless for my partners.

OC’s - Due to my time constraints I am extremely picky when it comes to OC’s. This is a good fandom for well-thought-out muses and I know firsthand how hard it is to make headway as an OC in the RP world. However, I also understand that for people like me, I want to dip in on this site to mostly play with the characters and worlds I’m really absorbed in and ship my weaselly black guts out. Some people have more time than others to really give your OCs the time and love they deserve. Unless I’ve played with you a long time and I really like the cut of your and your muse’s jib, it’s very unlikely I’ll bite. Apologies! The same goes for crossover muses from fandoms I’m unfamiliar with, but I will let you know if that’s the case.

Limits

Threads - I don’t have a strict limit on how many to have per person but please bear in mind that the more of these you have with me the longer it will take me to get to a particular one (unless I’m spamming it back and forth). This is more a mun/muse context how many I accept.

Exclusives/mains - I don’t do these although I may consider having a maximum of 3 or 4 of one muse depending on activity levels and to ensure plots don’t get mixed up or attention feel unfairly balanced.

Triggers/squicks - I don’t like body horror e.g. graphic detail of squishy bits having bad things happen to them. I’m writing a pirate so there’s absolutely allowed to be elements of torture/violence, just don’t stab him in the eye or chop bits off him. One torture-related thing sends me into a complete freakout which I’ll discuss with partners if we’re doing a thread of that ilk as needed. Kink-wise I’m not into mpreg, A/B/O or infantilism or toilet things. Just ask me/Jack if you’re after something XD

Who I Am/What I Need From You

Being yourself is the most important thing and I promise I am not a scary person (usually). We’re only human and it’s natural that we’ll get along better with some rather than others. This is more to give you a gist of the sort of person I am and who I gel with best.

So I’m a shy hermit at the best of times. I’m trying to be better at engaging and enthusing with partners over our threads because I realise more than ever this does keep things alive and make for a more enjoyable experience. I’m not always great at it. I work best with people who are patient and don’t worry too much on what I think of them and their writing, with people who are happy to keep threads going for the longhaul rather than keep dropping everything before I’ve had the time to get to the next post, and most especially people who accept that fiction =/= reality. I do need a certain level of quality, which doesn’t always mean perfect grammar, but it must be coherent, fun and creative. I like a relaxed approach, sharing mutual enjoyment in silly fantasy world sandboxes as escapism from (and exploration of) this complicated world we live in.

If you managed to read all of this, have a drink (even if it’s water). You’re a diamond. 

Pirate xxx

[aesop1]

clumsy [1]

pirate!chanyeol x reader

a/n: hello, im new. i like exo. i decided to write to my heart’s content at 1 am. i wrote this in about an hour. on my phone. with no beta readers. so let’s do this!

word count: 3.1 k

warnings: none so far, just a few swear words; no semblance of a plot; may not continue this, depends on how i feel.

(i do not own gif)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

———————-

“yn, would you help me with this load?” your father called out from the front of the saloon. glancing over, you spotted him stumbling whilst balancing two large crates atop one another. he sighed in relief as you claimed the top crate. “thank you.”

“of course,” you carefully traversed the cobblestone incline leading to said saloon, ignoring the murmurs from the customers within.

in your small village on a small island, everyone knew everyone. meaning everyone knew you: the klutz who co-runs this place with her widowed father. by klutz, you’re not the cute, clumsy, trip-over-her-feet-into-a-dashing-gentleman’s-arms klutz; you’re zone-out-for-a-second-and-not-notice-the-wooden-bench-you-just-successfully-flipped-over klutz. after your third grand mishap, everyone labelled you as variations of clumsy, one of the most famous ones being:

“bungler, do you need help?” one of the men clung to the bar called out, earning some dramatic guffaws from his colleagues.

the first moment you heard the term bungler, you laughed. your father quickly explained to you the negative connotation revolving that word, basically calling you clumsy and awkward in a rather mocking sense. ever since, it has stuck to your character and become your alias around town.

successfully dropping the crate in the kitchen, you leaned back in your stance, hands on your hips as you caught your breathe. the rough melodies of traditional sea shanties meandered through the kitchen, taunting and reminding you that outside awaits a whole audience of creatures who are just waiting for your next spectacle. you were brought back to reality by the sound of the other crate being placed on yours.

“yn, dear,” your father gently pinched your chin as he took in your conflicted form. “head upstairs, I’ll finish up here and close. you’ve worked hard today, as you always do. thank you.” with a smile and the familiar burning sensation in your eyes, you held back your tears and thanked your father, hugging him and sliding out of the kitchen to evacuate to your room.

upon entering, you untied your apron and tossed it to your bed, cracking your joints everywhere as you finally allowed relaxation to overtake your being. collapsing onto your bed, you closed your eyes for a well deserved moment. you knew it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to be so clumsy, but having a whole town mock you really takes a toll on you, as it would anyone else.

they treated you as if you were a jester, as if you were meant to appease to their humor, their entertainment. you were a show pony with a twisted ankle and they merely laughed. finally allowing a tear to slip to your pillow, you clutched the linen blankets beneath you, seeking some sort of comfort. some escape. you sat upright and stared out the bay window overlooking the vast sea.

before her death, your mother spent her days filling your mind with wonders and promises of a better life out beyond the horizon. stories of princes saving princesses and knights conquering territories. however, your father kept you grounded with his forewarnings of sea storms and pirates. oh how pirates petrified you. filthy criminals gone rogue, pillaging villages just like yours for some excitement and wealth, murdering those in sight for any reason they can think of. if they didn’t like your face, they’d carve it out cleanly just for fun. the memories of the horrific tales your father would whisper to you as scary stories always turned your blood cold, all before your mother would hit him for scaring you and then comfort you with her own stories.

a sudden chill ran up your spine as you continued to admire the ripples of the ocean, a foreboding aura emitting off the once tranquil site. shuffling to lay down, you pulled the blankets over your head, trying to shake off the fear that coursed through your veins.

—–

a deafening screech outside jolted you awake, sitting up and hyperventilating as you took in your surroundings. you were in your room still, wearing the same clothes you wore to work. everything would’ve been normal if it weren’t for the glow of red flooding your room from the fires just outside. peering out the window, you choked on your breathe when you saw your childhood town in flames, bodies littering the floor like a war scene. screams continued to fill the atmosphere, clashing metal sending a numbing sensation through your body.

ignoring your fears, you willed yourself out of bed and bounded down the halls to find your father, grateful you had decided to wear pants the day prior. however, lady luck decided to turn a blind eye to you, sending you skidding down the hall and falling directly on your back. while you attempted to catch your breath, you rolled over and peered down the staircase before you. if you were struggling to inhale before, the scene before greatly helped your misfortune when a sharp gasp hit you.

your father lied dead right at the open doorway, a shadowed figure towering over him. due to your rather raucous scene, the silhouette was staring directly at you. frozen for a moment, you stared at one another, a prey subject to it’s predator’s deathly gaze. with a pivot your way, the pirate took one step towards you which sprung you to action, clambering to your feet and dashing down the hall again, ignoring the ache in your muscle. realizing you’re trapped, you took a sharp left into your father’s room, scanning for a weapon you could use. of course he had nothing, spending his days in his kitchen every chance he had.

a deep chuckle resonated through your house, overcoming the chaos outside. the blood rushing to your ears blurred the sounds outside, leaving you hypersensitive to the thudding of his boots stamping on the weak wood of the stairs. your heart leapt, running entirely on adrenaline rather than reason.

with that in mind, you already found yourself clawing out the window and grasping the dense vines lining the walls. rather than traipsing down like any same person would’ve, you instead climbed up onto the roof. your father wasn’t really one for house maintenance, the many missing shingles proving that statement. scaling the treacherous terrain beneath you was a harder feat than you could ever imagine, a shingle skidding off the roof right past your father’s window most likely giving away your location.

with no other option in mind, you stood there, overlooking the ashes of your now ruined community. a pang of sadness hit you as you spotted the bloodied face of your taunter from earlier and you shut your eyes. probably not the best idea, especially when the thump behind you startled you to death, another shingle sliding out from beneath your feet. for the second time that night, you fell, the impact causing a snowball effect of loose shingles giving out. you rolled off the roof entirely, plummeting directly to the ground and blacking out.

——–

faint voices enticed you from your slumber, pulling you into consciousness. you weren’t aware of the first few minutes of the conversation, but as you came to more, it became clearer and clearer.

“it was a pretty good load, I’ll give you that,” a voice chuckled out, followed by the familiar sound of coins clinking together into a pile.

“I told you so,” a vaguely familiar voice chimed in. the depth of the voice almost lulled you right back to sleep, your brain now concentrating on how smooth and alluring it was.

“why hadn’t we attacked before?” the first voice asked, steps getting louder and louder. or maybe it was just the pounding in the back of your head.

“it’s such a tiny speck on the map, I didn’t even think about going there before. who knew it was such a hotspot for trading.” the steps were indeed getting louder, as well as the voices. especially that buttery rich voice that could fill a theatre with ease. “they didn’t even have a militia.”

“they deserved to be hit by us, they were too comfortable with their safety.” you rolled your head side to side, hoping to coax your eyes open before the two reached you. “what’s this?” your eyes shot open when you realized the voice was less than a meter away. you forced yourself to take in your surroundings, drowsiness still a very apparent factor in your muddled mind. wooden crates surrounded your being, a white tunic covering everything. you held your breathe as the cloth was lifted slightly, but not enough to reveal your concealed form.

“ah baekhyun took it after my incident.”

“what incident?” a snicker from the previous man resounded, then a long exhale.

“I went towards this saloon because I saw the owner dead at the front. I wanted to see if any of the guys were in there looting. by the time I reached the front door, I just saw a girl run, slip, and fall right on her ass at the top of the stairs. when she looked at me, she recovered and took off.” the other voice sniggered at the story of my misfortune. “I decided to follow her, I thought she was amusing. she disappeared for a minute, but then I saw a shingle fall. by the time I reached the roof, she was gone. not really sure how she got away so quickly. when I climbed down and out the front door, I saw baekhyun struggling to pull this supply barrow. so I helped him. I doubt anything useful is in this.”

“should we check?”

“I’m not really in the mood to sort out garbage, let’s just send jongdae and sehun down.”

“sounds good.” their voices began fading away before a door closed, completely muting them. you sat up, wincing at the throbbing sensation in your skull. pushing the tunic off, you discovered you were in a supply room of sorts. your bones ached, specifically your entire backside. you guess you fell directly into the barrow when you fell off the roof. you stretched your limbs forward, awakening the heavy weight of sleep from your body. turning your head, you noticed a porthole right beside you.

you crawled over, peering outwards to the endless blue. no signs of land anywhere and an eery stillness settling over the waters. your stomach sunk once your predicament clicked in your fuzzy mind; you were a stowaway on the ship of pirates who destroyed your village. even if you managed to find an escape from here, where would you go? your home was your father, the man who lie dead on your front door. a body of chilled air began suffocating you, your throat swelling up with the familiar forewarning of tears. you pulled your legs close to you and hugged yourself, the last person you had in this life.

the door creaked open, introducing two new voices. instinctively, you leapt out of the barrow, ignoring the pain shooting up your person and dived behind some other crates.

“so chanyeol said we had to clear out the barrow with the tunic,” one voice stated.

“I’m not seeing it,” the other voice answered. you decided to cautiously peek out to witness who you’re dealing with. a man, tall and thin yet by no means lanky. the other being on the shorter side, yet still significantly taller and stronger than you. you’re going to die. “there’s a tunic underneath this barrow, not on top.”

“well yeah that’s the only barrow in here, even if it didn’t have the white sheet over it, we still could’ve figured it out, idiot– wait.” silence fell over the two. you peeked out again to see the shorter man with his arms up in a halting position, most likely the man to cut himself off. “why would chanyeol describe it as having a tunic if it didn’t.”

“I don’t know, maybe it had the tunic when he came down and he just took it off.”

“why would he still describe it as that if he took it off himself?” more silence. the taller one stared down at the other, emotionless as he processed his words. without warning, he pulled out a sword from his side, backing away and scanning the room. the shorter one followed suit, revealing a sword of his own as he walked the opposite way of the taller one. he was walking right towards you.

holding your breath, you recoiled into the wall, praying that the boxes around you would shield yourself. it seems the tables were turning in your favor, because the man stepped by you, continuing to search for his trespasser. when he and the other man met at the other side of the long room, they shrugged to one another and turned towards the door.

“well that was weird,” the taller one mumbled in an agitated tone.

“let’s tell chanyeol. even if there’s no one on board, he should be aware of the possibility.” with that, the door opened and shut. for precautionary measures, you waited a minute or two, at least until your heart stabilized and your breathing evened out. you leaned back against the wooden walls and clawed at your olive toned pants. you were shaking, whether it be from fear or the dread which began appearing the minute you awoke, you were near your breaking point.

the spare drops of adrenaline motivating your weak heart caused you to finally stand. you crawled over the boxes carefully, making sure to not make a sound and alert anyone who may be nearby. although you knew the coast was clear since the two men left. all you had to do was find an escape and–

“how could we forget we were sent down here to check the garbage,” a voice from before blurted out as the doors slammed open, the other one laughing at the clear aggression evident in his comrades actions. without even thinking, you leapt back into your spot from before. of course you just had to stumble over the empty crate which had hidden you from the assailants, causing it to topple over with an unnecessarily loud crash.

there you sat, in the open, curled into yourself and staring at the two men who stared right back in shock. it felt like an eternity went by as you all refused to break the trance set by the three. your eyes darted between the taller one and the shorter one, taking in their young and… un-pirate like appearance.

you were expecting large, bulking men with wiry beards tinged with silver, scars over their blinded white eye with an eye patch resting comfortably on their forehead. layers upon layers of coats and ragged clothes to keep warm during cold ocean nights. maybe a hook or a peg-leg, but at that point you were stretching it.

at the end, it was the tall one who just so happened to cough and break the silent pact. you scrambled to your feet, the two men already grappling you before you could even stand erect. they both lugged you away, dragging your flailing and screaming body away.

splinters dug into your ankles, the only protectant you had being your stockings beneath your pants. the grip the men had on your arms were sure to leave bruises on your delicate skin. your screaming reduced to a series of pleads by the time you reached the deck of the ship. your eyes began blurring with the tears that you held back this entire time, the gravity of your situation hitting you.

they brought you to a hallway which lead you to a large room laced with treasures beyond your imagination. never have you seen so much gold in one landscape. jewels scattered across a rococo desk, necklaces lining any edge they could dangle freely on. a bed that could hold five yous and still have room for comfort sat against the edge of a wall, a scarlet duvet stretched across the planes of the bed like a coat of snow. candles were the only source of light here, no portholes in sight.

“where’s chanyeol?” the tall one asked aloud.

“I’m not sure. he went in here before we went downstairs.”

“we still have to clean out the barrow.”

“I know, sehun. fuck, why do you have to keep reminding me.”

“you seem tense, dae.” sehun reached his free arm to dae’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. dae immediately reacted by slapping his hand away.

“leave me the fu–” a door opening interrupted the two bickering, all attention directed towards the man leaving what you believe was his private restroom. “chanyeol.”

your eyes expanded when you met the face of the pirate who has been plaguing your life since last night. the roof pirate. he looked at the two men, then down at you. when his eyes landed on your helpless being, the twitch in his eyebrows revealed he remembered exactly who you were. with a clap of his hands, he took two long strides to stand before the three of you.

“well look at this,” he slurred out in a lazy manner, as if he had all the time in the world to deal with you. “you found my stray kitten. good work, boys.”

“your what?” sehun spluttered out, earning a smack in the back of his head from dae.

“jongdae, sehun, you are free to leave.” he never took his eyes off you, a smile slowly stretching upon his connivingly handsome face.

“do we still need to clean the–” another slap and a whine and they were gone, leaving you stranded on the floor with this man standing above you. the situation reminded you too much of the last scene you saw of your father lying dead beneath this man. you cowered away from his gaze, your cheek pressed against your shoulder. the man crouched to your level, grabbing your chin and turning you towards him. his hands were calloused, yet some warmth seeped through the rough exterior. rather than it being the comforting warmth of a fireplace or a home cooked meal, it felt more like the flames of hell themselves, tickling your skin with their embers. you were forced to stare at him, a demon trapped in the body of a boyishly attractive being. black hair tousled haphazardly like a nest, obsidian eyes darting around to each and every feature on your face, narrow cheeks cascading downwards into a sharp jawline.

“looks like I did manage to claim you after all,” he finally spoke, tapping his finger against your jaw. tonguing the side of his mouth, he leaned forward to your ear, fiery breathe sending shivers through you. “I’m going to make your life a living hell for trying to run away from me.”

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

Worm 2.7 - In which we go to the lair of the teens

As I agreed to join the Undersiders, there was some whooping and cheering.  I felt a touch guilty, for acting under false pretenses.   I also felt pleased with myself, in an irrational way.

Taylor is in a maelstrom of very confused emotions right now. She feels guilty for betraying them all in the future...them being these  villains she shouldn’t feel bad about betraying if she was truly 100% convinced they needed to be taken down. She’s also pleased and doesn’t know why...

I think she’s using the “I’m gonna betray them later” as an excuse to herself for becoming friends with a group of villains, and as a way of saying “I’m still totally on the heroic path”.

She’s pleased for being accepted into a group, for having non-hostile non-fatherly people to talk to who aren’t actively judging her.

On the other hand, I think there’s a part of her that truly wishes to be recognized by the hero community and have this be her first big act, so the “betrayal” isn’t a complete self-lie. It’s just...

It’s complicated

“Where do we go from here?” Lisa asked Brian.

“Not sure,” Brian said, “It’s not like we’ve done this before.  I suppose we should let Rachel know, but she said she might work today.”

“If the new girl is okay with it, let’s stop by our place,” Lisa suggested, “See if Rache is there, celebrate the new recruit and get her filled in.”

“Sure,” I said.

Oh so we’re gonna visit their hideout! This plan is going very well for our protagonist.

“It’s just a few blocks away,” Brian said, “But we would stand out if you came with in costume.”

I stared at him for a moment, not wanting to comprehend his statement.  If I took too long to respond, I realized, I would ruin this plan before it went anywhere.  Whatever the case, I could have kicked myself.  Of course this was the natural progression of events.  Joining their team would mean I would be expected to share my identity, since they already had.  Until I did, they wouldn’t be able to trust me with their secrets.

Well, yeah. If you’re gonna join them, your secret identity is a necessary sacrifice, for trust reasons and so no-one can rat their secret identities without also being exposed (ahem...)

I could have blamed the lapse in judgement and foresight on my lack of sleep or the distraction of the events earlier in the day, but that didn’t change matters.  I had maneuvered myself into a corner.

Fact: You were emotionally and mentally compromised with everything that happened recently

Also a fact: This plan you made has so many critical points where it could fail that experts say it could have already failed and the world isn’t aware of it yet

“Alright,” I said, sounding calmer than I felt.  I hoped.  “This costume is kinda uncomfortable under clothes.  Can I get some privacy?”

“You want an alley, or…” Lisa asked, trailing off.

“I’ll change here,  just take a minute,” I said, impulsively, as I glanced around.  The buildings on the street were mostly one and two stories tall, with the only buildings taller than the one we were on being the one half a block away, and the one right next to us. There weren’t any windows on the building next to us with a great angle for seeing me change, and I doubted anyone on the distant building could see me as more than a figure two inches tall.  If someone could see me change out of costume and make out enough details to identify me, I’d be surprised.

Where is a phonebooth when you need one? Probably Protectorate trademarked though, so let’s not risk a lawsuit

As the three of them headed to the fire escape, I pulled out the clothes I’d stuffed into the backpack.  Armor panels aside, my costume was essentially one piece, with the exceptions being the belt and the mask. I kept the mask on as I undid the belt and peeled off the main costume.  I wasn’t indecent – I was wearing a black tank top and black biking shorts underneath, in part for extra warmth.   Silk wasn’t the best insulator on its own.  I stepped into my jeans and pulled on the sweatshirt, then rubbed my arms and shoulders to brush off the mild chill.  I put my costume and the plastic lunchbox in my backpack.

I already mentioned this, but the individual parts of this whole operation (such as the costume over clothes, backpack, etc...) are well-executed. It’s just the thing as a whole that seems incredibly dangerous and reckless.

It’s like a perfecly calibrated mechanism made of interlocked cogs and masterful precision that just ends up punching a tiger in the face with you right in front of it.

I felt a stab of regret at not having chosen better clothes to wear than a loose fitting sweatshirt and jeans that were too big for me.  That regret quickly turned to a pang of anxiety.  What would they think when they saw the real me?  Brian and Alec were good looking guys, in very different ways.  Lisa was, on the sliding scale between plain and pretty, more pretty than not.  My own scale of attractiveness, by contrast, put me somewhere on a scale that ranged from ‘nerd’ to ‘plain’.  My opinion of where I fit on that scale changed depending on the mood I was in when I was looking in the mirror.  They were cool, confident, assured people.  I was… me.

Taylor is not only worried about unmasking because her secret identity is going to be compromised, she’s also worried because the bug mask is a mask in more than one way.

When she went out in costume, she distanced herself from Taylor the human with her personal problems. She became Taylor the cape with cape-related problems, and it was, in a way I think, a moment of respite for her.

So now that she’s taking off her mask, her “bug” persona, she’s going to expose her normal self to people belonging in the “powers” part of her life. She’s gonna merge those realities she doesn’t want to merge.

I stopped myself before I could get worked up.  I wasn’t regular old Taylor, here.  In the here and now, I was the girl who had put Lung in the hospital, accidental as it was.  I was the girl who was going undercover to try and get the details on a particularly persistent gang of supervillains.  I was, until I came up with a better name to go by, Bug, the girl the Undersiders wanted on their team.

She seems to be clinging to her “Bug” identity though, and distancing herself from normal life again.

If I said I made my way down the fire escape filled to the brim with confidence, I’d be lying.  That said, I had managed to hype myself up enough to get myself down the ladder, mask still on, costume in my bag. I stood before them, glanced around to make sure nobody else was around, and then pulled off my mask.  I had a few terrifying heartbeats where I was half-blind, their facial features just smudges, before I put on the glasses I’d had in my bag.

This glasses beat, where she is momentarily blind until she puts them on again, fits perfectly with the “scared without her persona, so she puts it on again” thing I was just mentioning.

“Hi,” I said, lamely, using my fingers to comb my hair back into order, “I guess it wouldn’t work if you kept calling me Bug or new girl.  I’m Taylor.”

Using my real name was a big gamble on my part.  I was afraid it would be another thing I would be kicking myself for five minutes from now, much like the realization that I’d have to go uncostumed.  I rationalized it by telling myself that I was already in this wholesale. Being truthful about that one thing might well save my hide if any of them decided to do some digging on me, or if I ran into someone I knew while in their company.  I figured, hoped, that by the time this whole thing was over, I could maybe pull some strings with someone like Armsmaster and avoid having them leak my real name.  Not impossible to imagine, given the level of security around some of the prisons they had for criminal parahumans.  In any event, I would cross that bridge when I got to it.

She used her real name though!! So at least a part of her wants to retain some part of her true self, that’s good.

Also yeah, it’s best not to stack lies on top of lies, or something’s bound to slip.

Alec offered the slightest roll of his eyes as I introduced myself, while Brian just grinned.  Lisa, though, put one of her arms around my shoulders and gave me a one-armed squeeze of a hug.  She was a little older than I was, so she was just tall enough to be at the perfect height to do it.  What caught me off guard was how nice the gesture felt.  Like I had been needing a hug from someone who wasn’t my dad for a long time.

Oh taylor you poor thing. You are definitely doing this for the friendship. Worst secret mole ever, but I love you.

We walked deeper into the Docks as a group.  While I had lived on the periphery of the area my entire life, and while most people would say the neighborhood I lived in was part of the ‘Docks’, I had never really been in the areas that gave this part of the city such a bad reputation.  At least, I hadn’t if I discounted last night, and it had been dark then.

Seems like Brockton Bay has a very divided higher and lower class.

Also you are still dividing your different personas a lot, saying that it’s your first time coming here, and then thinking “Oh well, but the other time was in costume so it doesn’t count”

It wasn’t an area that had been kept up, and kind of gave off an impression of a ghost town, or what a city might look like if war or disaster forced people to abandon it for a few years.  Grass and weeds grew between slats in the sidewalk, the road had potholes you could hide a cat in, and the buildings were all faded, consisting of peeling paint, cracked mortar and rusty metal.  The desaturated colors of the buildings were contrasted by splashes of vividly colored graffiti.  As we passed what had once been a main road for the trucks traveling between the warehouses and the docks, I saw a row of power lines without wires stretching between them.  At one point weeds had crawled most of the way up the poles, only to wither and die at some point.  Now each of the poles had a mess of dead brown plants hanging off of them.

There were people, too, though not too many were out and about. There were those you expected, like a homeless bag lady with a grocery cart and a shirtless old man with a beard nearly to his navel, collecting bottles and cans from a dumpster.  There were others that surprised me.  I saw a woman that looked surprisingly normal, in clothes that weren’t shabby enough to draw attention, herding four near-identical infant children into a factory building with a faded sign.  I wondered if they were living there or if the mom was working there and just couldn’t do anything with her kids but bring them with her.  We passed a twenty-something artist and his girlfriend, sitting on the sidewalk with paintings propped up around them.  The girl waved at Lisa as we walked by, and Lisa waved back.

Certainly one of the poorer parts of town. The nature covered dilapidated buildings and structures are kind of pretty in their own way though.

Seems like the gang knows some of the people around here as well, they seem interesting.

Our destination was a red brick factory with a massive sliding metal door locked shut by a coil of chain.  Both the chain and door had rusted so much that I expected that neither offered any use.  The size of the door and the broadness of the driveway made me think that large trucks or small boats would have been backed up through the entryway back in the factory’s heyday.  The building itself was large, stretching nearly half the block, two or three stories tall.  The background of the sign at the top of the building had faded from red to a pale orange-pink, but I could make out the bold white letters that read ‘Redmond Welding’.

An old abandoned factory serving as a cover for a supervillain lair is such a classic. I love it.

Brian let us in through a small door on the side of the building, rather than the big rusted one.  The interior was dark, lit only by rows of dusty windows near the ceiling.  I could make out what had been massive machines and treadmills prior to being stripped to their bare bones.  Sheets covered most of the empty and rusted husks.  Seeing the cobwebs, I reached out with my power and felt bugs throughout.  Nobody had been active in here for a long time.

“Come on,” Brian urged me.  I looked back and saw that he was halfway up a spiral staircase in the corner.  I headed up after him.

It even looks and probably is a real factory inside! And then I assume going up the staircase leads to the real lair.

After seeing the desolation of the first floor, seeing the second floor was a shock.  It was a loft, and the contrast was startling.  The exterior walls were red brick, and there was no ceiling beyond a roof and a skeleton of metal girders overhead to support it.  In terms of general area, the loft seemed to have three sections, though it was hard to define because it was such an open layout.

The staircase opened up into what I would have termed the living room, though the one room alone had nearly as much floor space as the ground floor of my house did.  The space was divided by two couches, which were set at right angles from one another, both facing a coffee table and one of the largest television sets I had ever seen.  Below the television set were a half dozen video game consoles, a DVD player and one or two machines I didn’t recognize.  I supposed they might have a TiVo, though I’d never seen one.  Speakers larger than the TVs my dad and I had at home sat on either side of the whole setup.  Behind the couches were tables, some open space with rugs and shelves set against the walls.  The shelves were only half filled with books and magazines, while the rest of the shelf space was filled with odds and ends ranging from a discarded shoe to candles.

Oh god their base is rad.

It just screams rebel teenagers and freedom and hanging around playing games or watching movies while eating pizza.

Unironically comfy.

The second section was a collection of rooms.  It was hard to label them as such, though, because they were more like cubicles, three against each wall with a hallway between them.  They were a fair size, and there were six doors, but the walls of each room were only eight or so feet tall, not reaching all the way up to the roof.  Three of the doors had artwork spray painted on them.  The first door had a crown done in a dramatic graffiti style.  The second door had the white silhouette of a man and a woman against a blue background, mimicking the ‘mens’ and ‘womens’ washroom signs that were so common.  The third had a girl’s face with puckered lips.  I wondered what the story was, there.

This part seems to be the individual room of each member? The whole base has an urban gang aesthetic that I really like. The crown could be Regent’s? The second one seems to be the bathroom. Third one possibly Tattletale’s?

“Nice art,” I said, pointing at the door with the crown on it, feeling kind of dumb for making it the first thing I’d said as I entered the room.

“Thanks,” Alec replied.  I guess that meant it was his work.

Oh cool. Alec is the one who does the graffiti. He seems the most laid back and chill of the group so far.

I took another second to look around.  The far end of the loft, the last of the three sections, had a large table and some cabinets.  Though I couldn’t take a better look without crossing the whole loft, I gathered that their kitchen was in the far end of the loft.

Maybe the planning table? To gather around and talk heists? And with a kitchen and bathroom this place actually functions as a good resting place.

Throughout, there was mess.  I felt almost rude for paying attention to it, but there were pizza boxes piled on one of the tables, two dirty plates on the coffee table in front of the couch, and some clothes draped over the back of one of the couches.  I saw pop cans – or maybe beer cans – stacked in a pyramid on the table in the far room.  It wasn’t so messy that I thought it was offensive, though.  It was mess that made a statement… like, ‘This is our space.’  No adult supervision here.

Hah, Taylor made the same observation I made.

Pure teen spirit.

“I’m jealous,” I admitted, meaning it.

“Dork,” Alec said, “What are you jealous for?”

“I meant it’s cool,” I protested, a touch defensively.

Taylor still probably carries the trauma of the bullying close to the chest as she reacted defensively to playful banter. Alec is constantly giving me Amethyst vibes for some reason. As in like, lazy teen, walking disaster.

Lisa spoke before Alec could reply, “I think what Alec means is that this is your place now too.  This is the team’s space, and you’re a member of the team, now.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling dumb.  Lisa and Alec headed to the living room, while Brian walked off to the far end of the loft.  When Lisa gestured for me to follow her, I did.  Alec lay down, taking up an entire couch, so I sat on the opposite end of the couch from Lisa.

“The rooms,” Lisa said, “Far side, in order of closest to farthest, are Alec, bathroom, mine.”  That meant Alec’s room was the one with the crown, and Lisa’s door had the face with the puckered lips.  She went on, “On the side closer to us, Rachel’s room, Rachel’s dogs’ room, and the storage closet.”

I was right about those rooms!

The other rooms are a closet, and two that belong to Rachel, one for her dog’s specifically.

I do wonder how she’s going to react to the new member, given that the webpage warned of hostility and antisocial behaviour.

Lisa paused, then glanced at Alec and asked, “You think she-”

“Duh,” Alec cut her off.

“What?” I asked, feeling lost.

“We’ll clean out the storage closet,” Lisa decided, “So you have a room.”

I was taken aback.  “You don’t have to do that for me,” I told her, “I’ve got a place.”

Lisa made a face, almost pained.  She asked me, “Can we just do it anyways, and not make a fuss?  It’d be a lot better if you had your own space here.”

I must have looked confused, because Alec explained, “Brian has an apartment, and was pretty firm about not needing or wanting a room here… but he and Lisa have been arguing regularly because of it.  He has nowhere to sleep but the couch if he gets hurt and can’t go to his place, and there’s no place to put his stuff, so it gets left all over. Take the room.  You’ll be doing us a favor.”

“Okay,” I said.  I added, “Thank you,” as much for the explanation as for the room itself.

I find it funny that Taylor’s joined a villain group but she still needs to come back home for dinner like a good girl (and so Danny doesn’t have a heart attack. Poor Danny)

So she will have a second room here, for if she ever wants to have her own space to rest when she’s at the base. That means you’re officially a member of the group, Taylor!

“Last time he went up against Shadow Stalker, he came back here and bled all over a white couch,” Lisa groused, “nine hundred dollar couch and we had to replace it.”

“Fucking Shadow Stalker,” Alec commiserated.

Shadow Stalker? Are they a Hero? With a name like that, they would certainly be an edgy hero. Maybe a competing villain? Seems strong, too.

Brian came back from the other end of the loft, raising his voice to be heard as he approached, “Rache’s not here, and neither are her dogs. She must be walking them or working.  Dammit.  I get stressed when she’s out.”  He approached the couches and saw Alec sprawled on the one.

“Move your legs,” Brian told him.

“I’m tired.  Sit on the other couch,” Alec mumbled, one arm over his face.

Brian glanced at Lisa and I, and Lisa scooted over to make room. Brian glared down at Alec and then sat between us girls.  I shifted my weight and tucked one leg under me to give him room.

“So,” Brian explained, “Here’s the deal.  Two grand a month, just to be a member of the team.  That means you help decide what jobs we do, you go on the jobs, you stay active, you’re available if we need to call.”

“I don’t have a phone,” I admitted.

They are surely hyping up the possible confrontation with Rachel, here.

Alec’s still being an Amethyst.

Brian’s explaining the pay and the work, and how does Taylor not have a phone?

“We’ll get you one,” he said, like it wasn’t even a concern.  It probably wasn’t. “We generally haul in anywhere from ten grand to thirty-five grand for a job.  That gets divided four ways… five ways now that you’re on the team.”

I nodded, then exhaled slowly, “It’s not small change.”

Brian nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, “Nope.  Now, how on the ball are you, as far as knowing what we’re up against?”

I blinked a few times, then hedged, “For other local capes?  I’ve done research online, read the cape magazines religiously for a few years, more since getting my powers… but I dunno.  If the past twenty four hours have taught me anything, it’s that there’s a lot I don’t know, and will only find out the hard way.”

Brian smiled.  I mean, really smiled.  It made me think of a boy rather than a nearly-grown man.  He replied, “Most don’t get that, you know?  I’ll try to share what I know, so you aren’t caught off guard, but don’t be afraid to ask if there’s anything you’re not sure about, alright?”

Wow they gain a lot of money

And Taylor’s pragmatism and preparedness seem to resonate well with Brian’s carefulness. He likes this new adittion to the team.

I nodded, and his smile widened.  He said, through a good natured chuckle, “Can’t tell you how much of a relief it is that you take this stuff seriously, since some people -” he stopped to lean over and kick the side of the couch Alec was lying on, “-need me to twist their arms to get them listening, and some people,” he jerked his thumb over his right shoulder, “think they know everything.”

“I do know everything,” Lisa said, “It’s my power.”

“What?” I said, interrupting Brian.  My heartbeat quickened, though I hadn’t exactly been relaxed to begin with, “You’re omniscient?”

Lisa laughed, “No, no.  I do know things though.  My power tells me stuff.”

Oh we finally get LIsa’s power!!! YES!!

Ok so it’s not omniscience, so you aren’t totally fucked. Her power seems to make her understand the true nature of things/ inform her of details/ give her consant information of her surroundings or what she pays attention to.

So you could still be pretty fucked

Swallowing hard, hoping I wasn’t drawing attention by doing so, I asked, “Like?”  Like why I was joining their team?

Lisa sat forward and put her elbows on her knees, “Like how I knew you were at the library when I sent me the messages.  If I felt like it, and if I had the know how, I’m sure I could have figured it out by breaking into the website database and digging through the logs to find the address you connected from, but my power just let me skip that step like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“And why exactly did you mention you knew where she was?” Brian queried, his voice a touch too calm.

“I wanted to see how she’d react.  Messing with her a little,” Lisa grinned.

“God dammit-” Brian started, but Lisa waved him off.

“I’m filling the newbie in,” she waved him off, “Yell at me later.”

Lisa is awesome and fun, and terrifying at the same time. Her power makes her an expert hacker and codebreaker, among other things I’m sure.

Not giving him a chance to reply, she turned to me and explained, “My power fills in the gaps in my knowledge.  I generally need some info to start from, but I can use details my power feeds me to figure out more stuff, and it all sort of compounds itself, giving me a steady flow of info.”

I swallowed, “And you knew that a cape was on the way last night?”

“Yeah,” she said, “Call it a well educated guess.”

“And you knew the stuff about what happened in the PHQ the same way?”

Lisa’s smile widened, “I’ll admit I cheated there.  Figuring out passwords is pretty easy with my power.  I dig through the PHQ’s digital paperwork and enjoy a little reality TV by way of their surveillance cameras when I’m bored.  It’s useful because I’m not only getting the dirt from what I see, hear and read, but my power fills in the details on stuff like changes in their routine and the team politics.”

So she basically has super-intuition!! Like some Sherlock Holmes-level shit!

Her power let’s her hack her way into sources of information, which further boosts her power allowing her to know even more things about even more people and the world, which I imagine could still lead to even more ways of gaining information.

Her power seems really OP under the right circunstances. If she had 1984-style camera surveillance she could actually be functionally omniscient , but even in her current state, she is fearsome

I stared at her, a good part of me horrified that I’d gotten into an undercover situation opposite a girl with superpowered intuition.

Taking my silence for awe, she grinned her vulpine smile, “It’s not that amazing.  I’m really best with concrete stuff.  Where things are, timing, encryption, yadda yadda.  I can read something out of changes in body language or routine, but it’s less reliable and kind of a headache.  Enough information overload without, you know?”

I did know, her explanation echoed my own thoughts regarding my ability to see and hear things through my bugs.  Still, her words didn’t make me feel that much better.

Oh so she has a limitation! She has a harder time reading social emotions and human behaviors. That might be the reason why she (possibly) hasn’t clued in on the fact that Taylor is a double-agent. That and also that Taylor isn’t so sure herself, subconsiously.

“And,” Brian said, still glowering at Lisa, “Even if she knows a lot, that doesn’t mean Lisa can’t be a dumbass sometimes.”

Lisa punched him in the arm.

Hehe.

“So what are your powers then?” I asked Brian and Alec, hoping for a change in topic.

Brian seems to be darkness-based. I have no idea about Alec’s.

They didn’t get a chance to tell me.  I heard barking from downstairs.  A matter of heartbeats later I was standing, three paces from the couch. Three snarling dogs had me backed against the wall, drool flying from their mouths as their teeth gnashed and snapped for my hands and face.

WAIT WHAT?

DID RACHEL JUST ATTACK HER OUT OF NOWHERE?

I knew she was antisocial but holy hell

Sicking your dogs on the newbie?

Does she want her out or dead? Or whichever happens first?

Of course this is where the chapter ends!

Aaaaaaaa