#being a kid and listening to adults respond to the deaths of other kids

[secretmellowblog]

I just listened to Heathers for the first time and my first coherent response to it (aka the reason it had me crying at 2am) was that the media circuses around the deaths of the high school students reminded me so strongly about how the U.S media covers mass shootings at schools. There's always widespread coverage of all the gory details of the tragedy followed by platitudes about "mental health" and "bullying" and vague promises of "making the world better" in some nebulous way-- all while praising the dead children for their "sacrifice." In Heathers, most of the people spreading these kinds of empty platitudes are the adults. The adults don't protect the children when they're alive and only acknowledge them when they're dead. And then the adults dehumanize the dead children and treat them as props-- as pathetic angels who sacrificed their lives to teach them saccharine generic moral lessons.

So there's no acknowledgement that the victims never wanted to be "sacrifices"-- and no one actually attempts to address the real reasons the deaths happened, or make any concrete changes that will prevent similar tragedies in the future. It's all hollow and the empty platitudes aren't an attempt to effect change but an attempt to maintain the status quo. The dead kids are all made into "necessary sacrifices that make us reflect on the value of life <3 and we need to talk more about mental health and bullying and being nice <333 " because it's easier to retroactively make children into martyrs than it is to accept that all the deaths could've been prevented. J.D.'s rage-induced decision at the end of the musical is to massacre the entire school, because he notices that adult society only cares about 'protecting' schoolkids when they're dead and they can talk about how their deaths "Really Teach Them Lessons." But JD's plan would have failed even if he had "succeeded," because adult society wouldn't care about the death of an entire school any more than it cared about the death of one girl. If he'd succeeded the result would've been....mass death, media coverage, empty hollow platitudes, adults ranting on about how "they've Really Learned Something," and then no meaningful change. This is just my first knee-jerk reaction to the musical but yeah. Whatever its flaws, I really think it captures something of the Rage you feel as a kid when you see adults sanctimoniously going on about how "the Deaths of Children In Schools Have Taught Us Important Lessons" while refusing to actually do things that would protect the still-living children around them.

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER TWO - an interrogation

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

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TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

"You've got the wrong person."

"I can assure you we don't."

"Then what the fuck did I do?"

Price sits back in his chair with his arms crossed, staring out the one-sided mirror that separates him from the interrogation taking place.  The room is dark save for the mirror, the laptop in front of him, and the red-yellow embers of his third cigar in the span of an hour.  He fidgets uselessly with it, rolling the paper between the fingers in his right hand while the other clutches a pair of dog tags.  The metal feels twice as cold in his palm as he listens to the two people in the room in front of him.

Laswell looks tired—typically perfect hair beginning to fall from her bun and the bags under her eyes deeper than usual.  He doesn’t doubt he looks the same, if not worse.  Despite the majority of the day dead and gone, the only thing they have to show for the amount of time spent in this room is a quickly filling tray of cigarette ashes and a messy desk of conflicting files, open laptops, and empty mugs of both tea and coffee.

"Nothing.  We just have some questions regarding your birth family."

You chuckle bitterly, your voice strained from the day's events even through the intercom.  "You had me kidnapped and nearly killed for a couple of questions?"  

Laswell's mouth opens and then snaps shut again. 

Price flips the dog tags through his fingers like the world’s most unlucky coin.

"This isn't an interrogation,"  she eventually responds.  "We’re trying to help you.”

“Then why am I in an interrogation room?”

He thinks its hard to find anything surprising, nowadays.  Price thought he saw pretty much everything there was to see already.  He’s traveled the world, faced every obstacle with bared teeth and clenched fists.  He’s seen death in all its forms, he’s seen someone come back from death—and yet, this was a new problem.  One he hadn’t encountered before.  A mission he, for once, didn’t know how to approach. 

He sighs, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees as he watches Laswell shuffle through papers.  This is usually what the chief specialized in—getting intel—but it appears even she's left flustered and clueless with how to handle the iron will of a shell-shocked teenager.

You’re sitting in a similar position as Price himself as you sit across from Laswell; a too-big S.A.S. sweater on your shoulders paired with sweatpants of a similar fit, your previous clothes ruined with blood.  Eyes downcast, hands clasped and shaking; Price can’t imagine the things running through your head.  He felt even worse that they didn’t have spare shoes, leaving you in your untied sneakers stained red-brown with the blood from earlier that day.  

You’re lost in thought.  You try to focus on what Laswell says, but her questions seem to go in one ear and then back out the other if you don't snap with a sarcastic comeback.  Laswell swallows heavily, much more used to this routine involving adults with war crime lists as long as the very building is tall.  She’s being gentle—well, as gentle as she can manage given your sharp tongue—but you haven’t given them any answers since you showed up.

You're scared.  You want answers.  Anyone in your situation would be the same.

So, after a few more minutes of talking and getting nowhere, Laswell stands.  She spares you one last, sympathetic look before crossing the room to the door—where she leaves the room in favor of the small office Price resides in.  A long breath leaves her as she stops at the table, lifting her arms and then letting them fall back to her sides in defeat.

“Nothing,”  she breathes.

Price nods.  He takes another drag of his cigar and exhales the smoke in a heavy sigh.

“Figures,”  he says, leaning over to snuff the embers out in the dish.  “Simon scared ‘em shitless.”

Laswell scoffs.  Shaking her head, she drops the file on the desk with a slap before sitting down herself—rubbing her tired face.  Her gaze falls to you sitting alone in the room, her brow furrowed tight.  In all his years of working with her, Price doubts he’s seen someone get under her skin like this in a long time.  

“We can’t wait for answers—not with the news spreading like this.”

He hums.  “You’re right.  We can’t.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”  She asks, genuinely.  “Because this isn’t working.  The kid's not talking until we tell them what's going on."

Price is silent for a moment.  None of the team had expected anyone else to catch wind of your location so quickly—nor had they expected such an organization like the Shadow Company to get involved.  What was supposed to be a silent search-and-rescue mission turned into something more of an ambush.  Something Price knows Graves will eventually seek repercussions for.

He feels his stomach twist from the thought, but he shakes it from his head.  Right now, proving to you that you weren’t in any danger was his priority.  The sooner you felt safe, the sooner you would answer questions—the sooner Price could formulate some semblance of a plan going forwards.

He pushes himself to his feet.  “Then we'll just have to give 'em what they want."

Laswell sighs, “John—”

“We owe the kid answers, Kate,”  He insists.  "We have for a long time.  Far too long."

“And if Graves or someone worse gets to them?  What happens then…when they give up intel?”  Laswell argues.   “We’ll just have to keep them until they’re ready to give up answers.  It’s the only way to make sure we don’t get compromised if shit hits the fan again.”

Price’s brow furrows.  He looks back out into the interrogation room for a moment, at how you stare down at the table wiping your bruised face on your sleeves.  Laswell is right, of course—she usually is.  If you gave up sensitive information to save your own skin after everything you’ve been through, nobody would blame you.  It could ruin everything, and it would be his fault, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take.  

He turns to Laswell again, his voice low as he steps closer. Palms flat on the desk, he leans down to her level.  “Then we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen, yeah?”

Laswell just stares at him for a second, her gaze hard in calm resolve.  She seems to consider his preposition, carefully weighing the pros and cons as she searches Price’s gaze for any hint of self-doubt.  As usual, she finds none.

She sighs again, shakes her head, and reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the table.

"Fifteen minutes, Captain."  She says, resolute, as she lights a cigarette between her teeth.  "That's all you get."

Fifteen minutes.  He’s saved lives with less, but yet he still finds himself taking a nervous breath as he grasps the doorknob anyway.  Up until this point he hasn't officially met you.  In a perfect world, he probably never would have needed to.

He swallows the lump in his throat and opens the door.

Immediately, your eyes dart up to meet his.  Your expression is a tangled mess of things.  Fear, maybe.  Anger, definitely.  There’s sadness and anxiety in there, too, as Price meets your gaze for a moment before padding inside.  He makes a point to leave the door open behind him as he walks forwards, pulls the chair out, and sits down with his hands on the table.  Your legs are pulled up to your chest now; arms hugging your knees as you stare up at him—defensive.

Like you're a cornered animal ready to bite.  

You are, but that's besides the point.

He regards you for a moment, attempting to look past how you have your father’s eyes—bright and focussed and unrelenting underneath the deep, puffy bruise on your left eyelid.  The wound looks old, at least by a few hours, so he knows it wasn’t caused by any of his men.  Even the Shadows wouldn’t swoop so low as to hurt you without reason.

"Nice eye,"  is all he says.

Immediately, you look away, suddenly self-conscious as you wipe at the aching, bruised flesh.  It hurts, that’s for sure, but you do a good job at hiding it.

"The other guy looked worse,"  you lie.

"A soldier?"

"No…"  you clear your throat and shift, your shoulders easing just a little from exhaustion.  "No.  Some kid.  Long story.”

"Ah,"  he chuckles a little, as if you aren't sitting across from him with your hands still stained in some dead guy's blood.  "Somehow, I don't doubt that."

"Who are you?"

Hm.  The dreaded question.  For a second, Price debates how much he should tell you—and he knows Laswell is holding her breath hoping he'll hold his tongue, but you deserve answers.  It's the least he could do.

The dog tags feel like they were burning a hole in his pocket.

"Captain John Price.  British Special Air Service."  He answers through a sigh as he sits back in his chair.  "But you can just call me Price."

That furrow in your brow loosens just a little.  Slowly, you remove your arms from around yourself, letting your shoes hit the linoleum flooring.  Maybe you recognized his name somehow, or maybe you’re just relieved to be talked to like a human and not a cornered animal—but you’re more relaxed than you have been that whole day.

"And the woman?"  You press.

"A friend,"  Price answers honestly.  "She helped us find you.  You can trust her, too."

"And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

Price hesitates at that, glancing towards the one-sided mirror where he can feel Laswell watching.  Then, he reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out the dogtags.  He tosses them over and they slide across the metal table before landing in your hands.  You turn the metal chips over in your palm, tracing the enamel with shaky hands.  When you look back up at Price, it's in disbelief.

They're your father's.

"To make a very long story short: over a year ago he had a mission,"  Price begins.  "Your old man was tasked with disarming a missile.  He succeeded, changed the code...and died before he could deliver it.  As of a month ago, it's been missing.”

It's a grossly summarized version of what happened over the course of the past year and a half, but Price figures he’ll spare you the details.  Details like how your father was tortured for months before he was finally killed while escaping.  Details like while he was stuck in enemy territory—you were all he would write about.  Your interests.  Your face.  Your words.

You're silent for a moment, squeezing the cold metal in your palms.  When you speak, it's quiet.

"That's a lie," you argue.  "Dad died when I was five. In Mexico."

Price nods.

“Maybe,” he says quietly.  “But, like his kid—he wouldn’t go down easy.”

You let out a breath, sitting back against the chair as you digest the information handed to you.  He watches dots string together in your mind as you mull over your whole life up until that very moment.  He knows what you’re thinking of already; not because he ever met the man personally, but because with the past few months he spent reading and rereading every letter, email, and assignment report—he feels like he did.  He knows you’re rethinking every letter your father sent you right up until his supposed “death" and every call promising his return soon.

He knows it’s a lot to take in, and that aching guilt in his chest rears its ugly head.  He wished he could do more—apologize on behalf of your father, reassure you things would be fine, take you back to your home…but, alas, all of those things were impossible.  So, instead, he’d answer whatever question you asked.

Because that was all he could do.

Almost a full minute passes before you speak again, quietly.  "And why, exactly, am I so important?"

"Because your father kept a journal,”  he answers promptly.  “In that journal, he said you knew the code.”

You laugh bitterly.  “It’s not like he was around to tell me—I don’t know shit.”

“I figured,”  he sighs, nodding.  “So, until we figure things out…you’re sticking with me and my men."

You bristle again, shoulders tensing.  "I never agreed to that."

"I never gave you the choice,"  John hardens his tone, not leaving any room for argument.  "It's what your father would've wanted.  Those were his last orders."

At that, you fall quiet; your face scrunched with frustrated anger and unshed tears as you look away to steel yourself.  John sighs and softens again.

"You’ll have a temporary room for the next few days.  Then, Friday; you, me, and my team are moving to a different base to plan and gather intel.  Everyone here answers to me, and if any of ‘em give you trouble—I’m never far away.”

He leans in close.

"I'm sorry, kid.  Really," he says, "but you can't go home."

Finally, you nod in understanding, your gaze falling to the table.  Lost in thought again, another long moment passes.  He watches as you look down at the dog tags before, hesitantly, lifting them up and over your neck.  They fall to rest at your chest as you clasp them before looking up at Price.  You won’t ask the question—won’t admit what you’re thinking—but he meets your gaze with calm resolve as he speaks again.

"You'll be safe here," he says. “Alright?”

You purse your lips, thinking.  John almost holds his breath, waiting for your response.  Conflicting emotions swim in your eyes as you squeeze the metal on your neck. 

He pretends not to notice the tears pricking your eyes as you swallow heavily and nod.

“Yeah…yes,”  you choke out.  “Not like I have anywhere to go, anyway."

After that, things go smoother.  There were supposed to be more tests—more questioning, interviewing, and other supposedly mandatory things that would get everyone nowhere.  Instead, Price decides to bypass all of it with Laswell’s permission.  The walk to your room is silent, and he assures you, again, that nothing will happen to you here.  He apologizes profusely, but he’s not sure you truly hear any of it—simply nodding and thanking him before the door is shut, and the halls are quiet.

Only then does he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, slipping his hat off to run his hand back through his hair.  There’s paperwork he has to do, a briefing to attend to, and he still has yet to touch base with Soap and Ghost about what exactly happened earlier that day.  Despite it all, though—he feels somehow lighter.  Months of tracking down your father’s only family coming to a close now that you were found and safe.  Or, maybe, it was just because the dog tags were weighing him down.

Nevertheless, he barely spares himself a moment to recollect before his hat is placed back on his head, his expression is hardened again, and he finds himself walking back down the hallway—already itching for another cigar.

It was going to be a long fucking week.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai

[bonefall]

So why's BB!Skystar like That? I'm not looking for a justification or excuse mind you, and I understand he completely refuses to better himself, but not even someone like him is born evil.

I'll get to his origin and tell you exactly how he grew up, but lemmie be clear about something. I don't think people respond to what they experience in a proportionate, 1:1, "hard times go in, bad guy comes out" sort of way.

People aren't bread and yeast. We don't follow a recipe for "becoming a bad person." You don't add trauma and then from there they choose to be a bad person because of their pain or not. No one is born evil, and the other side of that coin is that EVERYONE has the capacity for it.

Extremely privileged, charmed, blessed people with wonderful home lives can also become awful people. Violent, demanding, murderous ones. The "why" is "choice."

That answer's not satisfying because we want it to be deep and interesting. Like it makes it "mean" something, or adds some kind of "logic" to it. But you won't get it.

EVIL is simple. It feels good to get what you want. It feels good to hurt the people who keep it from you. POWER is even simpler. It is the act of making others do what you want. It's as simple as childish entitlement, indifference, or spite. Gratification that outweighs guilt.

If you're looking for some grand tragedy, you won't find it here. Nothing he went through was particularly unique and there was no grand ideology at play. His dad vanished when he was young and so did Gray Wing's. The Tribe dealt with a famine and several people died, including members of Bright Storm's family.

The only thing special about his birth and upbringing, in particular, was that he was quite privileged from the start.

Clear Sky and Gray Wing in the Tribe

From their very birth, both kits were welcomed and celebrated. They were destined for greatness from the start. Their mother was Quiet Wing, a direct descendant of the Stoneteller, Half Moon, and the father was a respected leader and political figure, Tempest Sky.

(This was before the Tribe would eventually become three camps, "Wards," united by a river. Tempest might have been considered an early leader of such a Ward.)

The older kit, a perfect image of xeir mother, was said to be the inheritor of her legacy as a relative of their founder and holy speaker. Xey were named Gray Wing. The younger, who would surely become the natural leader his father was, got the name Clear Sky. In their language, Koof Yaawrl-- Not just a sky without clouds. A perfect, flawless sky.

The two of them grew up with great opportunities. Connections are everything to their culture, and they had their pick of any amount of interests they wanted a paw in. The hunters would happily bring them along if asked. The crafters had extra patience set aside just for them. A good deployment of a mew and baby eyes could get them some extra scraps at dinner. Everyone wanted to make their little mark on such special, talented kits.

Clear Sky was a little general type. He wanted to be a leader right away. He loved hunts, he loved being in charge of other kids, he loved the way people listened to him. He wasn't familiar with the word No and was almost always the top banana of a group of other children. Even if they were older.

(Gray Wing in contrast was more of the game-creator, the "old soul," the kid who got along better with adults than other kids. Less of a leader and more of the guru, good at networking and settling disputes between people.)

While they were still kids, Tempest Sky vanished.

He was missing for days, and was assumed dead. There's plenty of ways to vanish in the mountains, but no remains were found. The Stoneteller tried to contact his spirit over and over to confirm his death, and he never came. So it was most likely that he just... left. Or maybe was taken.

Either way, they didn't really get closure for it. It was an awful thing to happen to a little kid, and Clear Sky took it really hard. A while after that, their stepdad entered the equation. Stone Peak wasn't big or strong or special, he just made their mom happy.

Gray Wing LOVED this man. After some friction, him and Stone Peak became excellent friends. They had a deep sense of respect and camaraderie. Clear Sky hated this. It was like Tempest Sky was being replaced before his eyes.

It was years before Stone Peak and Quiet Rain had a litter, well into Clear Sky and Gray Wing's adulthoods. It burned Clear Sky a new one to think that she was moving on from his father, who could still be alive. Maybe it's part of why he was so willing to throw his half-brother out into the snow, that fateful winter.

When Jagged Peak and Fluttering Wing were about half a year old, there was a terrible drought. It wasn't "overpopulation." It was a bad season. NOTHING could have stopped it. Lots of cats died.

Fluttering Wing was one of them-- along with some of Bright Storm's immediate family, Fox Claw and Petal Claw's mother during a hunting accident, and many more.

At the height of this drought, the southern river's level was so low that it became a scorched, crackled path with only a wet scratch of mud running along the middle. This dry riverbed beckoned to be followed downwards, until the water could be found again. THIS is the "Sun Trail;" a path carved by the sun.

It was Gray Wing the Wise who interpreted this as an omen. Xey believed it was their ancestors showing them the way to safety. The rest is history.

But the bottom line is...

Skystar's upbringing wasn't a supreme tragedy. He faced adversity just like everyone else, but he'd NEVER bring up the privilege that he had when he was young as something unfair to be examined. Tempest being a respected leader whose connections gave Clear Sky lots of opportunities is only spoken about in terms of Clear Sky being a "born leader" or "coming from greatness."

All of his charisma, his achievements, his command over other cats, that's all something he's "worked for." All of the adversities are examples of how strong HE is, in contrast to other cats, even if they went through the same exact struggles.

Why is he the way he is? Why is he so controlling? Why is he violent? Because he will take what he wants, and no one can stop him. He likes power more than he cares about the consequences of treating people poorly, so he cries "unfair!" if you take his toys away.

Stand by him and the rewards are sweet and delicious. Deny him what he wants, and he will crush you. He chooses how he treats you based on how much he likes you, and at the rotten heart of his behavior, is the simple choice to be this way.

[cringevalue]

a list of eddie and steve (definitely not head)canons because they are gnawing on the bars of their enclosure

EDDIE is transmasculine

was raised catholic until he moved in with wayne (who is christian) and is allowed to follow whatever religion he wants

he makes up his own.

has a lisp, but is very good at hiding it after years of being teased; when he can't hide it, he puts on a dramatic accent

former gifted kid to late diagnosed burnt out autistic adult pipeline follower

is allergic to watermelon but still eats it because he loves the taste, even though it gives steve a fucking heart attack every time he breaks out into hives. he solves this issue by only eating watermelon when he's with hellfire. dustin unsolves this issue by calling steve every other campaign with "your little boyfriend has consumed the death fruit again," to which steve promptly freaks out and breaks thirteen traffic laws to make sure eddie is still alive

thinks his own health issues are funny. never takes anything seriously when it comes to his own issues.

has tourette's and has conditioned steve into responding whenever he tics 'hello there' by huffing and puffing and refusing to look steve in the eye until he says hi back because eddie thinks this is top notch comedy

laughed the first time he slapped himself in the face with a tic

loves playing the sims 4

cried while watching big daddy because he was on his period and couldn't handle the scene where julian was taken away from sonny. steve is the only person who knows about this because eddie threatened to turn his balls inside out if he told a soul and steve is lowkey kind of scared

STEVE has a very bad addiction to stickers. they are everywhere. he has a packing box FULL of random stickers

loves playing the sims 4 and introduces eddie to the world of free custom content

pretends to not understand anything eddie is saying when he talks about music, but secretly listens to iron maiden and wasp when he misses eddie

is allergic to a very specific prescription pain medication, but he can't remember the name of it so he refuses to use any sort of pain medication no matter how much pain he's in and wouldn't even touch a bottle of ibuprofen with a ten-foot pole even though he knows he's not allergic to ibuprofen

has a very bad fear of allergic reactions

wants to write a romance novel even though he can't focus on reading a book for longer than eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds (he was timed)

is a middle school painting teacher and absolutely loves it when students paint on him and his clothes, even though he now has only one shirt that doesn't have paint on it. this made him the 'coolest' teacher in the school and his classroom is always full at lunch

wants to adopt a teenager because he knows that nobody is ever too old to be convinced they're loved, and he wants to give someone the love he never got as a teenager

is always wearing a homemade bracelet a random kid on the street gave him

can only wear one brand of socks and refuses any other brand

[keketopia]

luka couffaine headcanons

• luka is a pretty laidback person

• he sometimes stargaizes at night, just so he can look at the constellations

• he isn't actually afraid of snakes, in fact, he's actually considering having one as a pet

• he and juleka have a secret communication system through music. like when one of them asks a question or speaks they would respond by playing a few notes on an instrument and they would know what it means.

juleka: "luka, have you seen my phone?"

luka: *plays a few strings on his guitar*

juleka: "found it, thanks!"

____________________________________________

luka: "what happened to my toffee pudding?"

juleka: *plays a few strings on her bass*

luka: "really, jules? I was saving that!"

juleka: *plays some more strings on her bass"

luka: "how was I supposed to know that spaghetti was yours? I didn't even see your name"

juleka: *aggressively plays some more strings on her bass while also pouting and glaring at luka*

luka: "okay, it was half finished. but i was hungry and i wasn't really craving any other foods"

juleka: *plays some more strings on her bass*

luka: "whatever, i'll just buy some"

____________________________________________

• might want a houseboat when he's older. he just loves listening to the calm waves of the water when he's sleeping or meditating

• writes songs for marinette even when they broke up

• sometimes uses juleka's head as an armrest because he's taller than her. just a way for him to tease her and laughs when she gets annoyed.

• he has really good memory. this stems from his obsession with music. not to mention that he's pretty observant. like if someone places a book somewhere and they can't remember where they put it, luka would tell them where it is.

• luka's love for music comes from when his mom used to play guitar for him and juleka as a kid. in fact, the guitar was the first instrument he learned how to play

• luka goes to the pet store to buy mice because sass admits that mice are his favorite food.

• luka is pretty chill, it's rare for him to get angry. there are only a few times where he gets angry (silencer for example)

• remember when I said that luka isn't afraid of snakes? yeah, may I mention that snakes are his favorite animal? he's considering having a snake tattoo when he's an adult, although he's not sure if he wants it on his arm or on his back.

• an empath

• his favorite flower is the devil's trumpet

• studies psychology & philosophy

• he keeps his hair his natural color for a while because keeping his edges blue can be a pain in the ass since the color washes off very quickly. so he keeps it black until he gets bored and dyed them again

• he has chromesthesia

• he firmly believes in rebirth and that there is life after death

• reads past life regression books

• he doesn't really have any aspirations for fame. despite his dad being a famous rockstar, he doesn't want to be in the spotlight. he instead wants to teach music to other people, which is why his choice of a career is a music teacher

• he is a buddhist. he believes in the majority of buddhist beliefs, including samudaya

• allergic to seafood

• plans on getting just a few more piercings

• luka is explicitly against sass calling him master

• luka will sometimes play with sass' tail whenever the kwami sits in an elevated position

• he knows how to play the lyre (due to being viperion), keyboard, & the cello.

• he is very protective, especially towards juleka. he has gotten in trouble a lot as a child for starting fights with people that bullied her.

• despite being french, he does not like cheese. he once passive-aggressively (but in a good way) gave adrien deodorant because he couldn't stand the smell of camembert

• when luka is stressed. he plays notes on his guitar with his eyes closed and tries to guess what pitch the note is at

• he is pansexual i refuse to believe he's straight!

• jokingly refers to himself as an old man because he mostly hangs out with juleka's friends, who are all two years younger than him

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

pairings ❧ steve harrington x reader

summary ❧ hawkins is saved by a group of middle school kids, a few teenagers, and two adults

warnings ❧ female!reader, swearing, shit writing, steve being a hero, mentions of death, guns/knifes/weapons in general, mentions of blood/gore, hurt, comfort, angst

word count ❧ 4.1k

additional notes ❧ the last actual plot chapter of season one

The lights start to flicker, as El searches for our missing friends. We all look around the gymnasium in confusion and worry.

"Barbra?" Eleven whispers, as her breathing begins to pick up, faster and faster.

Nancy and I glance at each other worriedly and lean forward over the pool, at the mention of our friend's name.

Eleven gasps before the lights shut off completely.

"What's going on?" Nancy asks, looking up at the lights confused.

"I don't know," Mike responds quietly beside his sister.

"Is Barb okay?" Nancy leans forward even more, trying to ask the girl, "Is she okay?"

"Gone! Gone! Gone!" El cries repeatedly as her body starts to squirm uncontrollably.

Nancy places her hand over her mouth, tears now flooding her eyes as Jonathan pulls her close in comfort. I grab her hand gently, squeezing lightly before letting go, my eyes too, filling with tears.

Barb is dead.

"It's okay, it's okay." Joyce whispers to the girl, "It's okay."

"Gone! Gone!" Eleven continues to cry before Joyce gently grabs her arm comfortingly.

"It's okay, it's okay," She repeats.

"Gone!"

I reach out, gently wrapping my arm around the girl's head, bringing it up to my chest. "Hey. It's okay," I whisper in El's ear, "It's okay, we're right here."

I glance at Joyce.

"We're right here, honey." She says to the panicked girl.

"It's okay, I got you." I repeat as Eleven continues to gasp, "Don't be afraid, I'm right here with you."

The intensity of Eleven's breathing seems to decrease slightly, and I release her, moving back to my spot next to Nancy. She and Jonathan look at me with concerned eyes, I send a reassuring smile back.

"It's okay, it's okay," Joyce repeats after I let go, "It's okay, you're safe. You're okay, honey."

Eleven's breathing finally evens out as she calms down from Joyce's comforting words in the pool before she speaks again.

"Castle Byers."

Joyce whips her head around to Jonathan who looks back with the same look in his eyes. The rest of us glance at each other too.

"Will?" Eleven whispers.

Joyce gasps.

"You tell him... tell him I'm coming." Joyce says desperately, "Mom is coming."

"Hurry." Will whispers weakly from the other end of the walkie-talkie.

We all turn our heads to stare at the radio with shocked expressions. Then switching our faces to a concerned look, we glance back at Joyce and Eleven in front of her as she desperately clings onto the girl.

"Okay. Listen, you tell him... to stay where he is," Joyce stutters panicked, "We're coming. We're coming. We're coming, honey." She adds.

"Will? Will!" We hear El cry through the radio, "Will!"

Joyce and Hopper grip Eleven's trembling hands firmly, trying to provide comfort to the gasping girl. Suddenly, she sits up in the bath, with a sharp breath, yanking off her goggles. All of us are taken aback by the sudden movement as we stare at her in shock.

"Oh! Oh, okay, okay." Joyce holds onto El's body as she breaths heavily, "I've got you."

Eleven starts crying in Joyce's loving arms.

"It's okay. I got you. I got you." Joyce repeats, "I got you, honey. You did so good." She adds reassuringly before kissing El's temple as she continues cry in her arms.

I make eye contact with El as she curls up into a ball. I gently reach out, grabbing her hand and rub reassuringly, telling her that it's going to be alright.

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Nancy and I sit together with our backs pressed against the cold, hard wall. I bring my knees up to my chest, while Nancy simply stares at the wall, lost in thought. A solemn look rests on both of our faces as we mourn the loss of one of our best friends.

Barb didn't deserve to die.

Jonathan eventually joins us, sitting himself down on the other side of Nancy. We all sit there in silence until Nancy speaks up.

"We have to go back to the station." She says simply, making Jonathan and I turn towards her.

"What?" Jonathan asks.

"Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait." Nancy stammers slightly, "That thing is still in there. And we can't just sit here and let it get them, too."

"We can't." She finishes.

Jonathan and I glance at each other before he sighs, "You still wanna try it out?" He asks.

"I wanna finish what we started." Nancy confirms, finally looking at the two of us, "I want to kill it."

Jonathan and I nod before I stand, grabbing both of their hands and pulling them up off the ground. I smirk slightly before speaking.

"Then, lets kill this son of a bitch."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Nancy, Jonathan, and I successfully make it back to the Byer's house after going to the police station and collecting our supplies.

With our boxes and bags in hand, we make our way into the house. We set them down and immediately notice the lights that have been hung up on every square inch of the house. Nancy, Jonathan and I glance at each other before getting to work.

After screwing in all the singular light bulbs, I turn my attention to setting up the bear trap, making a mental note not to trigger it in the process. After spreading around the lighter fluid and leading it directly towards the trap, I grab my crowbar taking a few swings to make sure I'm ready to kill that bitch.

I make my way back over to Nancy and Jonathan, who grabs three knives from the kitchen drawer before walking back over to us and handing one to both Nancy and I.

"Remember." Jonathan says.

"Straight into Will's room. And—" Nancy repeats our plan.

"Don't step on the trap." I finish with my knife hovering over my hand.

"Wait for the yo-yo to move." Nancy continues.

"Then..." Jonathan flips his lighter on showing us the flame before putting it back in his pocket, "Alright. You guys ready?" He asks.

"Ready." Nancy and I nod at the same time.

"On three." Jonathan says as we bring our knifes up to our hands, "One... two..." Jonathan sees Nancy's distressed look before continuing.

"You guys don't have to do this—"

"Jonathan, stop talking." Nancy shakes her head at the boy.

"I'm just saying, you don't have to—"

"Three." I cut him off before slicing my hand while the other two teens follow quickly behind. I wince and shake my hand slightly at the pain of the cut, blood dripping from the gash. Clenching my fist to contain the flow of the blood, I stare at the cut on my hand. "Son of a bitch." I hiss before Jonathan gets some bandages to wrap our hands in.

We all sit on the couch, our hands wrapped in bandages, nursing our injuries. With a look of concern, Nancy gently wraps Jonathan's hand. The look on her face belies her love for him, and Jonathan smiles back with an equally caring look. I stare at the two hoping their bond only gets stronger.

Suddenly, there's a noise from outside, causing all of us to jump slightly.

"Did you hear that?" Nancy asks, looking at the front door and then glancing back at the two of us.

"It's just the wind." Jonathan replies, eyes locked on the door before he looks back at Nancy, "Don't worry. My mom, she said the lights speak when it comes."

"Speak?" I ask, unsure how lights can possibly speak.

"Blink." Jonathan replies turning towards me, "Think of them as alarms."

There's a moment of silence as Nancy continues to do Jonathan's bandage.

"Is that too tight?" She asks finally.

"No, it's fine." Jonathan stammers slightly, "Thanks." He adds, staring at the girl.

"Nancy." Jonathan whispers.

"Yeah?" She replies and they stare at each other for a few more moments.

Suddenly, we all jump up at the loud sounds of banging on the door. We gasp and our heads instantly swivel towards the front door, our senses heightened as we wonder who has just arrived.

"Jonathan!?" I hear someone yell from the other side of the door. "Are you there, man? It's... it's Steve!"

The three of us glance at each other confused.

Why the hell is Steve here?

"Listen, I just wanna talk!" Steve continues banging on the door.

I immediately leap up from my spot next to Nancy and Jonathan and quickly head to the front door, unlocking it slowly and only opening it a little crack. As I do so, I'm met with Steve in front of me, his face still bloodied and bruised. He looks at me with desperate eyes, and I freeze in shock for a second before speaking again.

"Steve, listen to me." I say sternly.

"Hey, (Y/n), what—" Steve starts with a confused look on his face.

"You need to leave." I demand and the boy shakes his head slightly.

"I'm not trying to start anything, okay?" Steve replies sadly looking into my eyes.

"I don't care about that." I say quickly, even though I still care, very much, "You need to leave." I place my bandaged hand on his chest ushering him to go.

"No, no, no." Steve says desperately, grabbing my hand and placing it in his, "Listen, I-I-I messed up, okay?" He stammers slightly, "I messed up. I messed up. Okay?"

"Really. Please." I search his eyes for sincerity that I find clear as day, "I just want to make things right." He admits with a sigh.

"Okay? Please. Please..." He continues and my eyes soften as he begs me to let him in.

That's when he finally notices my hand in his.

"Hey, what happened to your hand? Is that blood?" Steve asks softly, stroking my hand in his own.

"Nothing. It was an accident." I yank my hand out of his, placing it back to my side.

"Yeah, what's going on?" Steve asks sincerely concerned for my well-being.

"Nothing." I answer a little too quickly.

Rage fills Steve's eyes and he glances behind me. "Wait a sec. Did he do this to you?" He says referring the Jonathan as he attempts to push his way into the house.

"No." I reply, putting my hand on his chest again.

"(Y/n), let me in." Steve says pushing against me.

"No! No! No, Steve!"  I can't hold him back and he stumbles into the house before freezing.

All three of us stare at him as he looks around the trap-filled home.

"What is... What the..." Steve finally spots Nancy standing next to Jonathan, "Nancy?"

"You need to get out of here." She says to him before Jonathan runs up to Steve attempting to push him back out the door.

"Whoa, what is all—"

"Listen to me. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you, get out of here," Jonathan continues pushing Steve who just pushes back.

"What is that smell?" Steve says frantically, "Is that... is that gasoline?"

"Steve, get out." Nancy says firmly, pointing the gun straight at Steve's head.

"Wait. What?! What is going on?!" Steve yells, glancing at all three of us.

"You have five seconds to get out of here." Nancy says, cocking the gun.

"Okay, is this a joke?" Steve says glancing at me, holding my gaze, "(Y/n)..." He whispers towards me and I give in.

"Nance, put the gun down." I say gently, putting my hand on her shoulder.

"I'm doing this for you." Nancy replies ignoring my request.

"Hold on, hold on." Steve repeats, before the lights above our heads start to flicker uncontrollably.

"Nancy." Jonathan and I whisper, glancing at one another.

"Wait. Is this a... What is this?" Steve continues to question as I grab my crowbar bringing it up to attack position.

"Whoa, (Y/n), what are you doing with that?" Steve asks as I stand next to his defenseless self.

"Protecting your sorry ass," I reply shortly.

"Nancy." Jonathan repeats trying to grab the girl's attention.

"Three. Two." Nancy begins to count down.

"No, no, no! No, no!" Steve yells putting his hands up.

"Nancy!" Jonathan yells again, finally able to grab the girl's attention, "Nancy! The lights."

"It's here." I say quietly as we all stare at the lights.

"Wait, what's here?" Steve asks.

"Where is it?" I ask spinning around with my crowbar in hand.

"Where is what?" Steve asks before having to duck under my crowbar, "Whoa, easy with that!"

Nancy, Jonathan, and I stand back to back as we slowly spin around in a circle, searching for the demogorgon.

"Where is it?" Nancy asks frantically.

"I don't know." Jonathan replies with the same tone.

"I don't see it." I say, glancing at Steve again.

"Where is what?!" Steve asks again, continuing to freak out, "Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on—"

Before Steve can finish his sentence the monster starts breaking through the ceiling, causing debris to fall on us.

Nancy raises her gun and begins shooting at the creature as it falls through the ceiling.

"No!" Jonathan yells grabbing Nancy and pulling her towards Will's room, "Go! Go! Run! Go!"

"Get out of here!" Jonathan yells towards Steve.

I stupidly stand my ground.

With my crowbar raised and ready to swing, I see the Demogorgon advancing towards me, and before I can react and defend myself, Steve grabs my waist and pulls me back against his chest with unexpected force. He quickly reaches into my back jean pocket and pulls me into towards Will's room.

"Jump!" Jonathan yells back toward us.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Steve repeats placing me in front of him so that I'm further away from the creature.

He keeps his hands securely planted on my hips as we jump over the bear trap and yo-yo string before rushing into Will's room, slamming the door behind us. We all stand breathily heavily, our hearts beating rapidly as our adrenaline pumps through our veins.

"Jesus! Jesus! What the hell was that?!" Steve yells again, frantically whipping his head around to each of us, "What the hell was that?!"

"Steve." I grab his face, making him look at me. "Shut up!" He shuts his mouth immediately, glancing at my lips. I scoff and push is face away from mine, still angry at him.

With my crowbar firmly in hand, I turn towards Nancy and Jonathan, standing behind them. We stay there, in Will's room, with our weapons raised and ready to strike. We wait, nervously, for our plan to work, but nothing seems to be happening. The silence is deafening and we're left to wonder if our plan has failed.

"Do you hear anything?" Nancy asks us as the lights flicker one last time.

"No." Jonathan and I reply as I lower my crowbar and Jonathan closes his lighter.

We are all careful and cautious as we slowly exit Will's room, before Steve takes my hand and gently walks out with me, staying by my side.

As we make our way through the hallway towards the living room, there's nothing but silence. We walk around confused, with our weapons raised. I feel Steve let go of my hand and I turn to see him running a hand through his hair.

"This is crazy..." Steve mutters to himself behind me, "This is actually crazy."

"This is crazy! This is crazy!" He continues, "This is crazy!" Steve rushes towards the phone on the wall, attempting to call the proper authorities. Nancy walks over to Steve and yanks the phone off the wall.

"What are you do—" Steve is cut off by Nancy smashing the phone, preventing the boy from using it, "What are you doing? Are you insane?"

"It's going to come back! So you need to leave!" Nancy yells in Steve's face, "Right now." She demands.

Steve turns towards me and I give him a little nod, confirming that he needs to get out of here. He rummages through his jean pockets for his car keys as be rushes out the front door.

As soon as Steve leaves the lights start flicking again, and I raise my crowbar once more.

"Where is it?" Nancy asks as we continue to spin around while the lights flash causing my vision to go hazy.

"Come on." Jonathan whispers, "You see it?" He asks us.

"No." Nancy replies whimpering slightly.

"Where are you... Come on you son of a bitch." I whisper before the lights shut off completely.

I hear a low growl approaching from behind Jonathan and turn to the origin of the sound, only to come face-to-face with the monster. It's standing there, creeping towards Jonathan while he remains unaware of its presence.

"Jonathan!" Nancy yells, warning the boy before the monster launches at him.

"Holy shit! Jonathan!" I yell as Jonathan drops his weapon, leaving him struggling as the creature crawls on top of him.

Nancy cocks her gun before desperately trying to shoot the creature who's laying on top of Jonathan. It's drool dripping down the boy's face.

"Go to hell you son of a bitch!!" I shout before using all my strength to swing my crowbar at the creature. My crowbar somehow gets stuck in the monster's slimy body, which causes me to stumble backwards in surprise. Leaving me defenseless, I watch in horror as the Demogorgon slowly and deliberately approaches, my eyes locked on its every move as it draws closer to me.

Suddenly, Steve appears out of nowhere, with the bat that Jonathan previously made. It's shiny nails catching the flickering light as he swings towards the monster who's stalking towards me. With a loud thwack and a grunt from Steve, the bat connects with the monster's face, leaving it slightly stunned.

He came back.

"Steve!" I shout worriedly attempting to reach towards him as he continues whacking the creature.

Steve effortlessly spins the bat around his hand a few times before brutally hitting the monster again, sending it stumbling back into the bear trap.

"He's in the trap!" Steve yells, noticing the yo-yo string release, "He's stuck!"

"Jonathan, now!" I yell at the boy with the lighter.

We stand together at the end of the hallway, watching as Jonathan flicks his lighter open, sending the monster up in flames. Its body writhing in pain, the creature's shrieks getting louder and louder while the flames consume it. I feel Steve grab my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as his bruised fingers lace with mine.

I glance at Steve and catch his eye, feeling a flutter in my stomach and warmth in my heart. I notice Nancy send me a pointed look with causes my cheeks to flush.

He's so infatuated by you and you don't even notice.

I quickly let go of Steve's hand, turning back to the monster with guilt and confusion in my heart. Steve's eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his own expression now filled with confusion as he comprehends my actions and glances back to the creature. I try to ignore the awkwardness of the moment and to focus on the screeching Demogorgon in front of us.

"Get back!" Jonathan yells to us as he grabs the fire extinguisher and puts the fire out in front of us. Not wanting to burn his whole house down.

We all cough as the dust fills the space, our eyes watering before the hallway begins to clear. We start to make our way slowly and carefully down the hallway, our senses heightened as we search for any sign of the monster. However, to our surprise, the creature is gone.

"Where did it go?" I ask, my breathing heavy as I turn towards each of my friends.

"No. It has to be dead." Jonathan pants, "It has to be."

But there's nothing there.

Out of nowhere, the lights above our heads seem to flicker on. Leading us somewhere.

We hesitatingly follow them through the house before Jonathan speaks.

"Mom." He whispers, "Is that you?"

"Mom?"

We follow the flickering lights outside, the street light being our next stop. I stand on the porch between Jonathan and Steve, who is still carrying around the nailed bat for protection.

"Where is it going?" Nancy asks softly.

"I don't think that's the monster." I say just as softly as the three of them glance at me. Jonathan then speaks.

"That's my mom."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

We all make it back to the school, where police cars are waiting. Apparently a whole thing with the kids and Eleven went down while we were gone.

When I see Dustin I immediately rush over to him, engulfing him in a giant hug. I stroke his curly hair as I silently cry.

"Hey, I'm okay." Dustin says, trying to comfort me.

After I let go of my brother, he trails behind me, as I search for the others. As I notice everyone being held and comforted by their families, I start to feel like something, someone is missing. The sudden realization hits me like a ton of bricks and I turn to my brother, with panic and grief washing over me.

"Dust, where's El?" I ask, my voice shaking and I already know what might have happened.

"She's... She's gone." My brother whispers, sitting down on the back of the ambulance before grabbing my hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

I instantly let out a broken sob, the tears flowing down my cheeks like a river of grief. My hand shakily reach for them, trying to wipe the tears away, but the relentless stream seems unstoppable. I can't bring myself to sit down, and my knees go weak in agony as I try to process.

Eleven is gone.

Steve approaches me silently with his hands shoved in his pockets, his loving eyes filled with sympathy as they watch me cry. Without a word, he softly reaches out his arms, offering me a hug. Without a second thought, I give in, letting my previous anger fade away as I cling tightly to his back, seeking his comfort and protection. My brother watches with sadness, but all of my attention is focused on Steve as I bury my face in his chest and cry. His strong arms comfort me, holding me closely as I continue to sob, his touch soothing my trembling body.

I slowly pull away from his embrace, silently watching as his gaze rests upon me with sadness. Steve gently brings his hand up towards my cheek, hesitating caressing it with care. I find myself leaning towards his touch, a small smile playing on my lips as our eyes lock. Steve eventually brings his hand back down to his side, leaving my cheek feeling cold without his warmth.

"Do you guys need a ride?" Steve finally speaks, glancing between Dustin and I.

I just nod my head.

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

The car ride home is silent except for the tapping of Steve's fingers on the steering wheel. I stare out the passenger side window, watching the street lights as we drive by.

Steve pulls into my driveway, putting the car in park, before turning his gaze towards me. Immediately, Dustin hops out of the car, disappearing inside the house. I watch from outside as the lights come on and the silhouettes of my mother and brother come into view, locked in a sweet embrace. I heart fills with a mixture of hope, sadness, and pain as I watch.

"Hey (Y/n), you okay?" Steve asks, grabbing my hand from across the center console.

"Yeah, Steve. I think so." I say glancing at the boy, smiling slightly, and this time I actually mean it.

Steve gently releases my hand, his eyes locked with mine as he gives me a small, loving smile and a nod. I exit his car, looking back at him one last time, sending him a little wave before entering my house, closing the door behind me.

I enter only to be greeted with my sweet mother, who embraces me tightly in a warm and compassionate hug, while apologizing profusely for not being at the school to pick us up. Despite her guilt and sorrow, I reassure her that I'm fine, trying my best to put her at ease and hold myself together. Once I make my escape to my room, I sit down on my bed, trying to process everything that had happened in these past few days. The terror, the hurt, the sadness, the confusion that has been so overwhelming. I finally come to three conclusions.

We found Will.

We lost Eleven.

It’s all over.

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[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Stray Ghost

Word count: 7255

Chapter 2: Home

Summary:

“Thank you for having me, really. This was nice. I haven’t been able to feel like this in a while.” He smiled at them but it felt like a goodbye.

“Of course! What kind of people would we be if we didn’t feed the random kid that walked into our house chanting prophecies of death!” Hizashi teased.

“The sane kind.” Danny joked back. ★~★

Danny Meets Hizashi

Shouta finally relaxed, letting himself give in to the cozy atmosphere of sleep from the boy and the cat. Just as he had drifted off, the bus slowed to a halt and dinged, signaling their stop. Shouta tapped the boy on the shoulder like before, and gently placed Digiorno in the carrier. His body was loose, and he barely moved. How could Shouta not notice it before?   

“Are we there yet?” Danny asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. His hair was half slicked up and half matted down from the bus seats. He looked like a kitten that had just been groomed by its mother. Shouta ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm it down. It helped somewhat, but it was clear the boy needed a shower.  

“We just have to walk a bit more.” Shouta responded softly. They grabbed their things and left the bus. 

The night air was cold, and a soft drizzle started falling from the sky. Danny pulled up his hood while Shouta just suffered through it. It didn’t take long until they had reached the door of Shouta’s house.  

He fumbled with his keys, the clanging sound accompanying the rain. Shouta had not even inserted it into the lock before the door slammed open, a distraught Hizashi behind it. 

“Where have you been?!” He cried, looking Shouta up and down. His eyes zoomed past him and settled on Danny. “Oh Sho… you didn’t?” His hand covering his mouth. 

“Didn’t what?” Shouta was very used to his husband's dramatics, but this might scare the kid off. He turned back to Danny, who just had a confused look on his face. 

Hizashi moved closer to his face, cupping his hand to Shouta’s ear and whisper-yelled, “Kidnap a child.”  

Danny laughed in the background and then tried to hide it with a cough when both the adults turned to look at him.  

“I didn’t. I fed him so he followed me home.” He responded dryly. Danny laughed again, not taking any offense to it.  

“He tried to outrun me, but I chased him down!” he teased. Hizashi had a hand on his hip and the other on his face. He was the picture of a concerned mother. 

“Well alright, but if the cops come round, I had no part in it!” He joked, walking out of the entryway and leading them into the house. Shouta walked in without hesitation, but Danny lingered by the door, an unsure look on his face despite his previous joking. Shouta nodded his head in the universal signal for ‘follow me’, and the boy did. Shouta was glad he was being more expressive since his minor breakdown earlier.  

“What’s your name, listener?” Hizashi asked Danny, with his signature hero smile. He had his radio show voice on, which was actually ‘please like me and think I’m cool’ voice.  

“Uhh, Danny?” Danny didn’t seem too impressed by it, which most teenagers weren’t.  

“Nice to meet you, Danny! I’m Yamada, but you can call me Hizashi, okay?” He raised his hand up to high five him. 

“Okay. Uhh, nice to meet you, Hizashi.” He was going to scare off the poor kid if he kept going like that.  

“Oh come on, don’t leave me hanging,” Danny high fived him with a ‘wtf’ smile on his face. Most teenagers responded the same way. Hizashi was usually a hit with teens or the opposite. Shouta thinks it’s because they can tell he tries too hard while the others like him because of his hero work.  

“Alright!” he shouted in a rock and roll voice, “You can take your shoes off over there and then there’s tea on the table.” Hizashi pointed to the living room in a pose that would’ve been cooler on a billboard. Danny looked at him strangely but walked off, leaving the two men alone.  

“Are you sure about this, Sho?” His mask dropped and concern fueled his voice, “I mean, you said you weren’t ready for kids.” He looked down and reached for Shouta’s hands, gently clasping it in his. Shouta wrapped them around his husband and kissed his lips. 

“I’m sure.” he said strongly, “And I said I didn’t want to bring any more kids into the world until I knew it’s safe. He’s already here.” They both looked at Danny. He was awkward, not sure how to act in someone else’s home. He had poured himself some tea and was sipping it slowly while looking at the walls, like a kid pretending to appreciate art.  

“I guess you’re right” Hizashi looked back at him, his eyes soft, “and he does seem pretty sweet. What about his parents though? Are they still in the picture at all?” 

“If they are, they won’t be for long.” Hizashi looked taken aback but Shouta continued, “This kid needs someone, and I think we can be that for him.” Hizashi grabbed Shouta’s hand and put it up to his cheek, kissing the palm. He got so touchy when he was worried about something. 

“We’ll talk about it later, alright? Right now, let's make sure Danny settles in.”  

“Thank you.” Shouta pulled Hizashi closer and kissed his head, the man in his arms laughed and pulled away. As much as Shouta tried to hide it, he liked touch too. They smiled at each other and walked to Danny.

He was still standing there but Sushi started to investigate him from her shelf in the wall. He held up his hand to her to smell, careful not to move in case she got scared off. At his feet, Pancake was also smelling him, his tail twisting nervously like a snake. While Sushi eventually approved of Danny, nuzzling his hand, Pancake smelled something he didn’t like, and ran off. Danny frowned and turned his attention to Sushi. 

“He probably smelled Digiorno on you,” Shouta explained, the boy nodding. Most of his attention was on the cat in front of him. Shouta didn’t blame him. Sushi was a very friendly cat and spoiled for attention.  

“The pizza?” Hizashi asked, confused.  

“The cat.” Danny stopped petting Sushi and set the backpack down, facing the window to the men revealing Digiorno.  

“You should know, you picked the name.” Shouta commented. Instead of opening the flap, Danny unzipped the front of the carrier, giving Digiorno easier access to outside. He gingerly sniffed the air and walked out. Sushi jumped down from her perch and tried to smell him, but he stepped back into the carrier, his ears tucked. She stepped closer slowly, purring. Digiorno stopped backing away and had allowed her to come up to him, though he was staying completely still. Sushi started licking his neck and Digiorno relaxed, one ear sticking out, then the other. He started licking her too. This wasn’t how you were usually supposed to introduce cats, but Shouta was sure it was fine considering the circumstances.  

“Oh, so the kid was a distraction. You did bring home a stray!” Hizashi turned and accused Shouta.  

“Guilty.” Shouta deadpanned.  

“I’m missing something.” Danny sat down with the cats and stroked them both with his hands. They purred in comfort.  

“Sho here has a talent for taking in stray cats,” Hizashi pointed at him again, attitude in every word and motion, “Like every month or so, Sho will bring in a stray and trying to find them homes. Half of them are near feral too, can’t tell you how many times I’ve been bitten. But Sho gets this face,” he put on a bitchy face with dead eyes, “and he looks so happy I can’t say no.” Hizashi sighed lovingly.  

“Sho?” Danny asked before his face flashed in realization, “Right. I just got used to ‘Aizawa’...” he trailed off. 

“Aizawa?” Hizashi looked at him, offended, “Really? You bring a kid into our home and make him call you ‘Aizawa’. Wow. That’s cruel even for you.”  

“Relax, at least I didn’t make him call me my hero name.” Shouta countered.  

“What's that?” Danny asked.  

“Eraserhead.” He supplied absentmindedly. Digiorno still wasn’t moving as much, still laying down half out of the carrier.  

“Eraserhead? That's a weird name. I would’ve picked ‘The Mummy’ or ‘Mr. Cat-Man’” Danny laughed at his joke. 

“I actually picked it out when we were in high school,” Hizashi perked up, excited to share his old stories. Shouta was only half paying attention to them, watching Digiorno. Sushi also seemed concerned for the cat, acting as a pillow for him and occasional licks of comfort. They had several cat beds around, that would be comfier for him. They also had a few heating pads too he could place underneath it. 

“Anyway, Nemuri was so mad at us, you should’ve seen her face!” Hizashi was lost in a retelling of a childhood memory. He had a habit of rambling on and on and couldn’t tell when people were only listening to be polite. Danny seemed interested, laughing and nodding his head. 

“Wow. I have no idea who that is, but she sounds fun. You deserved the lecture.” Shouta bet Danny had done similar things in his past. He looks like he has a bit of a mischievous streak in him.  

“She was just mad she didn’t think of it,” Hizashi waved him off, “Where you going, Sho?” 

“I’m going to grab some stuff for Digiorno. Then we should probably get dinner started soon. It’s getting late.” 

“Right. I got so excited I forgot I was hungry.” He laughed. 

“I can help!” Danny stood up, careful not to disturb the cats. 

“No, from that ramen story you told me I don’t trust you in the kitchen. Besides, you need a shower. You smell.” 

“Geez rude. I don’t smell that bad.” Danny shrugged him off. 

“Like sewer water.” Shouta deadpanned. 

“If it was that bad, how did you last all day with me?” Danny smelled his shirt.  

“I have a strong stomach.” In actuality it wasn’t that bad. He was a little ripe, but no worse than any other teen without deodorant. Danny stuck his tongue at him playfully. Shouta rolled his eyes at him but smiled back.  

“Hizashi can show you the shower, and then I’ll get you some clean clothes.” 

“Alright, whatever.” Danny agreed. Hizashi led him to the bathroom and Shouta went to go get the stuff.  

He set up the cat bed with the heater and some food for Digiorno. The food was soft in case his teeth were hurting him too. Shouta felt bad since he didn’t have any pain meds for him, but he hoped this was enough until Ms. Shuzenji arrived. It was her day off and she usually spent time with her family. Her youngest grandson had just turned 6, so she’d probably come after he went to bed around 8pm.  

Shouta grabbed some of the clean clothes he had got Danny. He really hopes they fit, but if not, he could wash his old ones until he returned them. He knocked on the door and entered hearing a small ‘come in’. The shower and toilet were in a separate room from the sink, so Shouta wouldn’t be invading the boy’s privacy. 

“I left some clothes on the counter. Let me know if they fit.” Shouta yelled.  

“Thank you!” Danny called back. He left his other clothes on the counter, so Shouta grabbed those to put in the wash later. He left the new hoodie in the room in case he wanted to wear it still. 

He went back to unpack the rest of the bag into the temporary guest room. They used to use this room for Nemuri and Tensei when they stayed over, and the occasional cat, but now it would be solely Danny’s. He still needed to talk to Hizashi about this, as well as the correct authorities to get the paperwork in order. Then he needed to talk to principal Nezu about Danny possibly being a transfer student to UA. It was clear the boy wanted to help people, and even if he didn’t get placed in his class the school would be a good fit for him.  

Shouta placed all the items on the bed, the clothes folded and the figure on display. He plugged the lava lamp into the wall and put it on the mostly clean desk, the other decoration being some pictures of Shouta and them as teens. He debated putting them away, but a part of him couldn’t do it. Maybe it would help the boy feel less alone in some way. Shouta placed the few rolled up posters on the other side of the desk and examined the room. It looked like it could belong to a teenager, if bare, which was the point. He wanted Danny to feel welcome here or ease any homesickness he might have. Danny didn’t seem like he missed it, more sad by the memories of hurt than out of longing. Still, Shouta wanted to help in any tiny way.  

At the bottom of the bag was Danny’s old sweat jacket. He wasn’t lying when he said the kid smelled, but he had smelled far worse when he was wearing this. Shouta held it up to his nose, it smelled musty and metallic. He went to the sink in the kitchen, Hizashi already there cutting the eel into three. 

“Is something wrong?” Shouta must’ve looked pale as he ran a part of the old jacket under the water. The color washed away, the water turning red under it. Shouta and Hizashi both looked at each other, not sure what to do.  

“Do you think he killed someone?” Hizashi whispered? “Or maybe he stole it off a dead guy?” 

“No,” Shouta thought for a second, “I don’t think that’s it…” 

Danny had tons of scars, some of them still fresh and healing. The Lichtenberg scar came to mind, but there were still a few tender areas. It was a lot of blood though, maybe even a whole liter. Danny, for all his scraps, didn’t seem the worst for wear. It could be from the person (or maybe even people) who hurt him. The Lichtenberg had yet to fade after all. If someone was after Danny, what could possibly be their motives? The boy didn’t seem out of the ordinary, aside from his strength, but that wasn’t too uncommon. Maybe the boy had been forced to fight. That wasn’t uncommon either. Parents would sell their children into these underground rings for the pure convenience of money. Shouta wouldn’t put it past his parents, judging from what he heard about them. The scars could have been from such events, and Shouta knew Danny would’ve fought back. It could’ve also been for the simple pleasure of causing pain, also not uncommon. How else could he have gotten the Lichtenberg scar? If he had fought someone with an electric-type quirk, he would have more burns over his body. Danny could have broken out and had been on the run since. He didn’t seem worried that someone was after him, perhaps already knowing they wouldn’t be able to catch him.  

This was all speculation, he had no idea what happened to the boy until he did a full investigation. There was something else too. The way Danny reacted to the cop from before was suspicious in this new light, as well as him not telling Shouta his quirk. At first, Shouta had just thought the boy was scared to get in trouble for using his quirk, but now, who knew?   

“Eh…Maybe?” Shouta rubbed the bridge of his nose groaning. Hizashi came up behind him, grounding him by wrapping his arms around his waist and setting his head on his shoulder.  

“What are you thinking?” he asked with concern. 

“I don’t know…” He really didn’t, even with his students he didn’t have this problem. “It’s hard to conceive of him killing anyone, but maybe if he was desperate enough?” Shouta turned off the sink, watching the blood go down the drain. 

“Maybe it’s not…hmm.” They’ve seen it enough times to know it was definitely blood. An image flashed into Shouta’s mind. Danny covered head to toe, dipping in blood. A sad and dead look on his face as he stood over the body. Shouta has been there before. He was older than Danny, but even that was too much for him to handle. He couldn’t imagine what the boy felt. Shouta had to snap himself out of it. He didn’t know what happened to the boy. 

He banged his fist on the counter in frustration. Hizashi held his hand trying to soothe him. Shouta squeezed it and turned to face him but couldn’t look him in the eyes.  

“Danny was hurt. He didn’t seem to be in any pain, but I got a glimpse of his arms and they were covered with scars. They were worse than Midoriya’s.” Hizashi’s face paled even more at the implication.  

“I think it’s from whoever did that to him, but I can’t be sure. I’ll have to contact detective Tsukauchi. There’s probably enough on here to collect a sample.” He limply lifted the jacket.  

“But then what?” Hizashi asked. Shouta was too lost in his thoughts to understand what he meant, “The boy. Danny.” He clarified, “what are we gonna do with him?”  

“The same as what we were planning. We can protect him, we need to protect him, God knows no one else has. We can figure it out when we get more information.” He lifted their hands up to his chest and pressed his lips to Hizashi. They may not know what the boy has done or has been through, but he was here now and safe.  

“Am I interrupting something?” They quickly pulled apart. They had been so distracted that they didn’t even hear the water turn off. Hizashi quickly put on a fake smile, but Shouta kept his frown. It was similar enough to his resting face to pass. Danny looked at them, curiously.  

“Okay…” He could sense something was off but didn’t press. Shouta took the opportunity to hide the jacket behind him as he dried his hair with the towel. “Is there anything I could do to help?” Danny asked, “I could chop some vegetables, I’m good with a knife.” 

That, in context of the murder the boy may or may not have committed, was a bit unnerving. Hizashi laughed nervously, “I was just prepping the eel, you like eel?” Danny shrugged, “That’s good enough! Anyway, you could wash the rice if you want, then put it in the cooker.” 

“Cool,” Danny put the towel on his shoulders and rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, then pulled the undershirt’s sleeves down to hide his scars. His hands opened and closed looking for something to grasp. “How do I do that?” 

“You don’t know how to wash rice?” Shouta asked. This kid really was neglected.  

“I didn’t know you had to.” He shrugged.  

Shouta and Hizashi both looked at each other, Hizashi with a horrified face and Shouta with a frown. 

“Well, now is as good a time to learn as any!” Hizashi clapped his hands, quickly lightening the mood, “It’s super easy, all you have to do is get a big bowl, run it under the sink until it’s level, then swirl it around until the water is cloudy. You just repeat two to five times or until the water is clear!”  

“Sounds easy, yeah. Where are your bowls?” Hizashi grabbed Danny a bowl and stood over his shoulder as he carried out the simple process. He was cooing as if he were a toddler that just took his first steps. Danny, to his credit, put up with it, only occasionally rolling his eyes. 

“Right well, while you two do that, I’m going to put Danny’s clothes in the wash.” He fingered the hoodie still hiding behind him. They both nodded, but Danny watched him out of the corner of his eye as Shouta went to grab the rest of the clothes he abandoned.  

He took the pile upstairs and dropped them into the wash, except for of course the hoodie. Instead, he went into his and Hizashi’s shared office (although it was more of a recording studio since Shouta didn’t use it enough) to hide it and fax detective Tsukauchi. He already needed to do that for the villain attack earlier that day. Shouta didn’t have to worry about privacy since the detective had a personal fax that no one could access for UA. 

He quickly wrote up a report for the villain but struggled with mentioning the boy. There was still so much he didn’t know about Danny, and he could potentially put him in danger by doing this. At the same time- Shouta needed to know what happened. He told himself it was so that he could better help Danny, but a part of him wanted to know how bad it was, or if the boy had actually killed someone. He wouldn’t blame him if he did, just looking at his arms the boy had clearly been through torture. And that's what it was, torture, as plain and horrible as that. Despite that, Danny was still smiling and laughing as if his skin wasn’t branded from the cruelty of people. The kid must’ve been a good actor or a slip away from cracking.  

Shouta already decided the boy would need consoling, maybe even medication if it was bad enough. He was sure that UA would provide the resources for that as they provided them for other students and even himself in the past. If Danny did murder someone, so long as they keep that information contained, he should have no issues at school. Afterall, a few of his would-be classmates had already attempted in the past, so he wouldn’t be sticking out.  

Shouta sighed, remembering the report. He should fax one to principal Nezu as well to gain insight into what to do next. He started typing, keeping the information as impersonal and accurate as possible. In the principal Nezu report, he added a brief summary of Danny’s character and how UA would be a good fit for him. He sent them off, dread in his stomach at the possible outcome. 

He slowly trudged downstairs, his nose filling with the sweet smell of the sauce. Shouta didn’t know how hungry he was until he felt his stomach lurch in a way only food could cure. As he rounded around the corner, he heard the soft sounds of Hizashi instructing Danny. 

“Like this?” Danny was wearing Shouta’s grumpy cat apron while Hizashi donned the matching cheerful one. Danny was standing over the simmering pot of eel, pouring the unagi sauce over one of them slowly.  

“Yeah, but don’t be afraid to pour some more, there’s enough and you won’t ruin it.” Hizashi loved kids, and teaching was an outlet for that. He had been wanting a child of their own for a long time, but Shouta was always scared of messing up, or putting them in danger due to their jobs. There was also the chance that they would die and leave the kid all alone. Looking at the two, he felt bad that he had deprived Hizashi of this for so long, despite his fears.  

“Right…” Danny breathed, focusing on the food deeply to not make a mess. He started to pour a little faster and a huge glob coated the eel, running down into the pot below. He breathed in sharply. 

“That’s okay,” Hizashi soothed, “It adds flavor to the water. That one’s good now, so let's set it aside. Do you want to do the others?” 

“Uhh, sure.” Danny looked uncertain, clearly not used to being in a kitchen and cooking actual food. He set it down and was about to fish for another when Shouta came up behind them.  

“Can I help?” Shouta said. Hizashi screamed in surprise, but Danny had a very different reaction. He didn’t even look at him as he quickly punched Shouta in the gut, causing him to fall over in pain.  

“OH MY GOD!” Danny shouted, panic on his face, “Are you okay?” 

“It’s your fault, you know.” Hizashi berated, “Don’t go sneaking up on people like that.” 

“I Know,” Shouta choked out, “I deserved that”. Really, he didn’t mean to scare them so much and he thought he had made more noise. He would have to do better in the future. Danny bent down to help him up. 

“I am so sorry about that, I just didn’t see you coming and-” 

“Don’t be,” Shouta waved him off, “As Hizashi said, I should know not to sneak up on people like that. It was a good punch too. I can see how you held back that shark villain from before.” 

“I’m sorry,” Hizashi said, his hands waving as if caught off balance, “the what villain?” 

“Oh, uh helped Aiza- I mean Sho, take down a villain today. He wasn’t that strong.” Danny scratched his neck.  

“He was,” Shouta had mostly recovered now and was leaning against the counter, “My quirk didn’t work on him. Danny here took out his legs and I restrained him.” 

Hizashi had an excited look on his face and hugged Danny. Unlike Shouta, he didn’t get punched in the face and simply let out a small ‘oh.’ 

“That’s it,” Hizashi let go and high fived both his hands, holding onto them after, “We’re keeping you!” 

Danny had a confused smile on again. He did not know his fate had been sealed. Actually, his fate had been sealed the moment Shouta saw him in the alley. 

“Okay…” He laughed nervously.  

“Right!” Hizashi clapped his hands, “Now that that’s decided, we should eat. Sho, honey, you can go sit down and recover while we finish, okay?” 

Shouta didn’t protest and went to the table, Hizashi smacking his butt as he walked away. Danny had an overdramatic look of disgust but turned back to pouring the sauce over the eels.  

The tea was still left on the table with a few cups. It was probably lukewarm by now, but Shouta reached for a glass and poured some. He smelled it before taking a sip. It was chamomile, which was always Hizashi’s go to because of his throat. Shouta himself preferred black tea or simply coffee, but chamomile came next since it reminded him of his husband. He poured the other glasses and made sure to place Danny’s dirty one where the boy was likely to sit. 

After another minute, Danny and Hizashi came to the table, no longer wearing the aprons. Danny was holding the bowls and utensils while Hizashi balanced the plate of eels and rice.  

“Really, I could’ve carried that.” Danny set the stuff down at the middle of the table next to the tea.  

“And I said I could handle it. Besides, we don’t want you to do too much work since you just got here.” Hizashi laughed at Danny’s confused face. Shouta grabbed a bowl and chopsticks and set it down in front of him. He did the same for everyone else at the table. Danny mumbled a quick, ‘thanks.’ 

“Thank you for the food, Hizashi and Danny.” Shouta said, “It looks delicious.”  

“Oh, you.” Hizashi blushed and waved him off. He acted like that every time Shouta even said a snippet of something nice to him. Shouta found it endearing since after all they’ve been through together, their feelings for each other never faded.   

“Geez, can we eat now?” Danny interrupted. It seems he had seen plenty of them and their affection for each other and had grown sick of it. Shouta was half tempted to blow a kiss Hizashi’s way to annoy the teen further but decided against it.  

“Of course,” Hizashi laughed, “do you want to get your food first?” 

“Uhh, sure?” Danny reached for the rice and started filling his bowl but kept an eye on the two adults in the room as if waiting for them to say something. When he was done, he placed the bowl back in the middle and grabbed the eel, placing a slice on top. Hizashi grabbed the rice next, then Shouta.  

“Oh, I forgot to grab the leftover sauce. I’ll be right back.” Hizashi was about to stand up, but Shouta stopped him. 

“I can get it. I wanted to grab some fukujinzuke anyway.”  

Shouta returned with the food and sat back down. He sprinkled some fukujinzuke over his rice before adding an eel on top. He took a bite, fully absorbing the flavor combination in his mouth.  

“Can I try some?” Danny looked at him curiously while Hizashi poured some more of the sauce on top of his dish. 

“Sure, although I don’t know if you’ll like it.” Shouta passed the small plate of it to Danny. 

“How would you know what I like or not?” Danny counted. 

“Good point.”  

The teen lifted up his half eaten eel and put the fukujinzuke over the rice, the same as Shouta did. Shouta waited for the boy to take a bite with a soft smile on his face. He did, gently chewing with a thoughtful look on his face. 

“I like the texture,” he chewed some more, “but it's a little vinegary.” Danny swallowed and took another bite, “But I like it.” 

“I’m glad.” Shouta smiled. He went back to eating his own food, and both him and Danny took a drink of their tea in sync. Hizashi laughed at that and laughed a little more when they looked at him with the same expression. 

“What?” Danny asked, his eyes mirroring Shouta’s. 

“Nothing, nothing, just thinking how alike the two of you are.” He laughed again and tried to hide it by taking another bite.  

Shouta liked the boy but felt that he was more similar to Hizashi than him. They both had a positive energy about them that invited people in while Shouta had the opposite. Although, he couldn’t discount how similar they looked, if not for the color of their eyes. It wouldn’t be hard to pass Danny off as his long lost son if he really wanted. A fearful thought passed Shouta’s mind at his class's reaction to Danny if he were to join UA. If anything, the brains and confounding stupidity of Todoroki and Kaminari would have the class believing that they were truly related by the end of the day. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, they had no idea Shouta was even married, let alone to their fellow teacher. The only one who knew besides the staff was Ida, and he had done a good job of keeping that quiet so far.  

“What are you staring at?” Danny asked with sass only a teenager could achieve. 

In his musings, Shouta’s eyes had absently wandered to Danny.  

“Are you in school at all?” 

“No?” Danny set his chopsticks down and focused all his attention on Shouta. His face looked open, but Shouta had observed the boy long enough to know he was wearing a mask. One of his fingers picked at the table cloth.  

“Why’s that?” 

“Take a wild guess.” Danny looked at him, deadpan. Of course, Shouta knew why, but he wanted Danny to explain it in his own words to maybe get an idea of the situation.  

“Did you like school?” He could tell Danny’s guard was starting to go up again, “What was your favorite subject? You told me you liked science at the store.” 

“I guess I do,” he shrugged, looking down, “I mean, my parents were… researchers, so we just grew up having that stuff around. Math, chemistry and biology just came easy to me, so I enjoyed the classes.” 

A small smile started to form on Danny’s face remembering his favorite subjects. He had started to relax again, which was good. Shouta didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable or like he was being grilled.  

“English was my worst subject. I didn’t have a lot of time to read the material or when I did, I just couldn’t focus. Also, my teacher made us write everything by hand, and mine was so bad he thought it was another language!” He laughed, “Oh my god, the highest grade I think I got was like a B? And that was because I was basically locked in the room with him for 3 hours! He had to explain it to me over and over. I tried to leave, but then he guilt tripped me with this picture of his sister or something.” A confused look spread on his face, “Although now that I think about it, I think that was just him in a dress…” 

“Aw, he sounds like a good teacher, if a bit eccentric.” Hizashi piped up in between bites.  

“He was.” Danny nodded, “He was the only teacher who felt like cared. He was the only one who didn’t give up on me…” and this time, Danny didn’t hide the sad expression crossing his face.  

“The others weren’t worth their salt then.” Shouta tried to soothe, still unsure how to properly go about it, “At the school we work at, we make sure to monitor each student and check in with them. If we feel that they’re not getting the right support or resources, we have in-school programs to help, even if it’s just more time on tests and homework.” 

“You don’t make the kids go to counseling, do you?” He had almost a look of disgust on his face as he said it, as if recalling a bad smell or memory. 

“Not the best experience, I take it?” Shouta may not know Danny’s past, but he did know the kid was in desperate need of consoling.  

Danny shrugged again, “You could say that. At my last school, we had this therapist come in and she made everyone miserable. She had this gross way of getting into your head... She also made me do exposure therapy and I wanted to die again after. She was only there for like a week, and man I was glad to open the door for her when she did, in a manner of speaking.”  

Well, that’s a lot to unpack. Exposure therapy should be built up slowly, and she most certainly was not there long enough to do that, or even tell if he needed it in the first place. Plus there was the whole ‘die again’ comment which made Shouta feel dizzy.

“That won’t be an issue at UA. Consoling is available for both the students and teachers, and you can request a different one if you need to.” 

“UA? Is that the name of your school?” 

“You betcha!” Hizashi shouted, “Best hero school in all of Japan!” 

“Wait, it’s for heroes?!” Danny stood up at the table, slamming his hands down.  

Shouta looked over to see Digiorno raise his head, then go back to sleep. He was still really worried about him. Ms. Shuzenji should be here soon, he should probably text her again just to be safe. 

Danny looked over at Shouta intently, “why didn’t you tell me it was for heroes?!” 

“Must have slipped my mind.” Shouta took great pride in working at UA, he had wanted to be a teacher since he was a student there, but at the same time- he wasn’t in the habit of telling people that. “Does being a hero interest you?” 

Danny sat back down and scratched the back of his neck, “you could say something like that…” 

Shouta smiled. For some reason, he had expected Danny to be hesitant about becoming a hero, maybe it was due to his own projections and theories of his past. He should have seen it before when Danny took down that villain. He was just so concentrated on how to make the boy happy and trust him that he didn’t see the obvious passion and skill he had at saving people. He would’ve led with UA sooner if he knew that was the case.  

“Would you want to go to UA?” Shouta tested.  

Danny had a contemplative look as he leaned back in his chair. Shouta looked over at Hizashi, who had an uncertain look on his face. Finally, after a few moments, the boy responded.  

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe?” He looked at them earnestly, “On one hand, it might offer me support on my powers, eh, I mean quirk. But on the other hand, I don’t know how well I’d fit into that environment. And I don’t even mean just socially, my quirk isn’t exactly the most common or, uhh understood.”  

Shouta was under the impression that Danny’s quirk was a simple strength enhancer. He had shown no other signs of it being anything else or even anything connected to it. It could be that he was in a similar position as Midoriya, but that should be impossible. No- it was far more likely it was just connected to a larger quirk. Maybe he absorbed and used energy, similar to Fat Gum’s quirk. Another thing to talk to principal Nezu about.  

“What is your quirk?” Hizashi had no idea how Danny took down the villain, simply that he did. 

“Uhhh,” He looked over at Shouta, “I really don’t know. I haven’t come up with a name for it yet.” 

Another concerning thing. Most quirks, while not completely understood, still have a basic level of understanding. A child may be born with the ability to remove and reattach a limb, but there is a scientific reason behind why that is usually the quirk itself and the power is the symptom. A fine example would be his student Bakugo, whose quirk is actually his sweat, not the explosions themselves. The norm was usually the quirk being named by the child or examiner, then renamed later when they’ve gotten a better understanding of it. For Danny to not have a name means either his quirk never got registered, he recently discovered what it actually is, or he only recently manifested it.  

“Do you have any names picked out?” Hizashi thought naming quirks was like naming babies and should be stylish. He had wanted to name his quirk ‘banshee howler’ but was denied and stuck with ‘voice’. 

“I don’t know, maybe something like ‘Ghost’?” 

What does super strength even have conjecturally to do with ghosts? Hizashi didn’t know what Shouta did, so he wasn’t confused. Instead, he just smiled at Danny. Shouta was about to interrupt when he got a text notification from Ms. Shuzenji. It said she’d be able to make it within the next hour.  

“Sho? What’s wrong?” Hizashi reached for his hand. A sour look must have spread through his face since all were looking at him.  

“Ms. Shuzenji just texted. She said she’d be here soon.” Shouta’s voice sounded defeated.  

“For Digiorno?” Hizashi looked over at Danny, “Yeah, Danny was telling me about him. I hope he’s alright.” 

“He’ll be okay.” Danny said, which surprised Shouta since he was the one who said he was gonna die, “Or I mean- not really? Or at least not what you would call ‘okay’. But I can tell he’s at peace and ready to go.” 

Danny looked over at Digiorno in his little bed. The cat had only eaten a bite of food, and while he was awake, he looked exhausted. Sushi was sitting beside him also, as if protecting him from whatever spirit would claim him. The boy had that same look in his eye in the alley. Shouta still wasn’t sure what it was, but it sent a pain of bittersweetness in his gut.  

Danny looked down at his food, and quickly finished the last few bites. He set the chopsticks down and looked earnestly at Shouta and Hizashi. 

“Thank you for having me, really. This was nice. I haven’t been able to feel like this in a while.” He smiled at them but it felt like a goodbye.  

“Of course! What kind of people would we be if we didn’t feed the random kid that walked into our house chanting prophecies of death!” Hizashi teased. 

“The sane kind.” Danny joked back. He looked sad, but only for a moment. He grabbed his bowl and took it back to the kitchen to wash. Shouta and Hizashi only watched him, waiting for what he was about to do. When he finished, he stepped back into the dining room. His hands were at his sides, and he stood straight. Shouta had never seen him look so small, except for when he was crying. Danny didn’t look at them and he bowed deeply to them both. It was awkward and lasted for too long, the boy clearly not used to it.  

“Thank you again for having me, but I should go now.” They couldn’t see his face from under his hair.  

Shouta was quiet, a cold feeling sinking inside him at the idea of Danny returning to the street. 

“Why?” Hizashi asked, his voice unwavering despite how Shouta knew he felt. 

Danny stood up, “I was only here to help with the cat. Now that actual help is coming, I have no reason to be here.” He said it like it was obvious.  

“Yes you do?” Hizashi put on a mask of confusion, his acting skills coming to the forefront. He clearly had a plan.  

Danny looked taken aback, “No I don’t?” 

“Yes you do,” Hizashi stopped him before he could say anything else. He stood up and gilded towards Danny, “You still have to have dessert, then you have to brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” Danny scowled at being treated like a kid, but Hizashi continued, “You’re gonna need your rest for school tomorrow.” Hizashi looked at Shouta out of the corner of his eye.  

Danny shrugged Hizashi off, stepping back to get some room, “What?” He was looking at Hizashi as if he had grown a second head.  

“I don’t go to school?” He paused, “And I don’t live here?” He slightly yelled the last part. He really didn’t get it.  

“Yes you do.” Hizashi reaffirmed again. 

Shouta got up and stood beside his husband, “Did you really think we’d let you back on the street?”  

“Yeah?” Danny looked more confused, “That’s what a normal person would do?”  

“We meant it when we said we wanted to ‘keep you’, or maybe a better way to phrase it would be we want you to stay here.” Hizashi stepped closer to Danny. When he didn’t move away, he grabbed his hands in his.  

Danny stared at the both of them, an unreadable emotion on his face. He sighed and then finally asked, “Can I leave?” 

“Do you want to?” Shouta asked.  

He stayed quiet and looked down at Hizashi’s hands, but didn’t pull away.  

“Danny, we mean it.” Hizashi squeezed his palms, “We can’t imagine letting you back out into the streets. We can help you.”  

“I-” Danny started, but it was clear no other words could make it out of his mouth. 

“You don’t have to answer now, just think about it tonight, alright?” Shouta stepped closer. He briefly thought about also reaching out for the boy but decided against it. 

After a second of just staring between the two of them, Danny finally said, “Okay,” he squeezed Hizashi’s hands, “I can’t promise that I’ll say yes, but I’ll think about it.” 

That was all Hizashi needed to pull him into a hug. He pulled Shouta in with him and, despite Danny not giving them his answer yet, they felt like a family.

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: pre-ireland LOCATION: wicked's rest community center PARTIES: @honeysmokedham & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: when the judge of a local talent show is convinced someone is out to kill her, axis investigations is on the case! CONTENT: mentions of child death

Axis got a lot of stupid cases. If you asked Emilio, most of them were stupid, though one might say he was a biased party. Still, it was hard to deny that this case, more than most, was a goddamn nightmare.

Shelby Peckman was positive someone was trying to kill her. Over a talent show. In all honesty, Emilio had zoned out of the conversation fairly early on, because it turned out Shelby talked a lot and he didn’t have the patience to listen, but he got the basics. Shelby was a judge at the Wicked’s Rest Community Center’s annual talent show. Shelby was positive one of the contestants was going to murder her and had made several attempts to do so already, though she didn’t know which contestant it might be. And Shelby refused to quit the voluntary position because it was her ‘duty’ or some shit. 

This town was the fucking worst.

But, on the bright side, Nora seemed interested. And Nora had been through a lot lately, had been down because of it, so Emilio was willing to work a stupid fucking case with a stupid fucking client if it might make Nora feel a little better.

He did, however, have some objections to her chosen method.

“This is a bad idea,” he grumbled. “I don’t see why you think I need to be involved here. You could do this by yourself. I don’t want any part of this.”

—

Robin Banks laid upside down on the couch engrossed in a TikTok video. One two three four. The instructor said over the video as Nora did her best to memorize the dance moves. Did Nora want to get on stage and dance in front of a whole room of people who believe talent shows should extend past the age of five? Of course not. But she did want to see Emilio do it. “I can’t do it alone.” Nora responded. Van was going to love this. She would probably tell Van to show up and watch. “Or do you want Shelby to die?” 

That was a stupid question to ask. Of course, Emilio wanted Shelby to die if it meant he could get out of getting in front of judges and displaying his “talent.” That talent was still being decided by Nora, who’d recently picked up the job title of Axis Talent Manager. She was fluctuating between two songs, Dancing Queen by ABBA or Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo. Both had an appeal that sang along the lines of Emilio would hate it. Eventually Nora decided on Vampire. To her, it was funny to get Emilio dancing and singing to a song titled Vampire when he was a slayer. 

“I really shouldn’t be going on stage at all. What if they recognized me? You’ll have to take the lead on all of this.” Nora slid off the couch, got to her feet, and connecting to the bluetooth speakers, thank god for Teddy being in the 21st century. “Alright learn the lyrics while I teach you the dance.” Who knew that years of forced dance class would come in handy? “Five six seven eight.” 

After a few hours of whatever they were doing, which couldn’t be qualified as practice to any intelligent person, Nora clapped her hands together. “This is it.” She declared. “We are talent show ready. Should we go to work?”

—

“Shelby is annoying,” Emilio deadpanned, which both was an answer and wasn’t one. He didn’t want Shelby to die. If Shelby died, he wouldn’t get paid. And Shelby had kids, and Emilio didn’t think kids deserved to lose their mom just because that mom thought God had personally bestowed upon her the sacred duty of judging a bunch of grown ass adults in a talent show whose prize was a $30 gift certificate to a pirate-themed restaurant. 

There were, of course, other ways to keep Shelby from dying. Emilio had pointed this out, more than once. But Nora seemed pretty dead set on this as a solution, and part of him wanted to let her do whatever might make her a little less heavy than she had been lately. She hid it well enough, but he could tell she was still rattled by what she’d seen on that ghost tour, and by the plethora of shit that had come her way before it. 

“What if they recognize me?” He shot back, though the argument wasn’t nearly as good as Nora’s. Emilio was only recognizable to a very small number of people. And, sure, that small number of people would like to see him dead, but it still wasn’t the same sample size Nora had to deal with. He groaned as she continued playing the songs, hating both of them with an equal ferocity. 

Learning to dance was something he, naturally, protested. “You know my leg doesn’t work, right? If I start dancing, I’m probably going to fall on my ass. Or I’ll be feeling it for a week. What if my talent is throwing knives? I’m already very good at that.” 

Of course, his protests didn’t do much. Nora was perhaps one of the only people in the world who was just as stubborn as Emilio was. He learned the moves she drilled into him — which were easy enough on his leg, even if he grumbled and pretended they weren’t — and complained about the lyrics as he memorized them. It was a miserable few hours. Emilio would have preferred physical torture — and he said that as a man who had experienced it. 

At least the talent show was a one time thing. They’d do it, then it would be over and he’d get paid. And he’d buy so much whiskey. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, holding on to that thought to keep him sane. “Let’s get to the show.”

—

There was something cathartic in inflicting the same pain she grew up with on someone else who hated it equally as much as her. Luckily, the stakes weren’t nearly as high as a multi-billion family business, which meant she didn’t feel that bad. One day. That was simply a fun side-quest. Fun for her, again, just to clarify. She didn’t think any of this would be fun for Emilio. Dance moves and memorizations, Nora even had the brilliant idea to add knife throwing into their chirography after Emilio exclaimed that he’d rather do that. This is the twenty-first century after all. They could have it all. “Wait. I almost forgot.” Nora pulled out two plastic bags from her backpack. “Costumes.” 

And that is how the universe conspired against Emilio, setting him up on stage dressed and made up as a knock off member of KISS with Nora, standing beside him in similar garb. As she had been plastering on her makeup she gave Emilio a dead-pan stare with the simple explanation “Did you really think I’d give them the chance to notice me?” It was cases like this that reminded her why she wanted to be a private investigator. It was more than helping people, it was about hindering the people in your life. At least, that’s what she learned from watching Emilio’s self-destructive habits. 

The lights burnt Nora’s skin as she stood in them, their heat threatening to break sweat. Sweat would wipe away the bright white make-up. That would be no good. Why did they need these lights anyway? As she squinted into the audience she could see about thirty dark figures in them, surely the majority of them were other contestants trying to figure out who they’d be fighting for the gift card. Then there was Shelby, bright and cheery. Her smile was so wide and white that her teeth could have been one of the bright lights staring them down. “We’re Axis Rock, and this is Vampire.” 

The performance was, well, it was one of the performances of all times. It happened. Nora had even paid for someone to record it so they could send it to Teddy. There was a brief moment while they were on stage, knives being thrown, dance moves being badly executed by both parties, and song being sung extremely offkey and unenthusiastically that Nora forgot everything. The bad things of this town, the fact that Shelby was probably going to die despite their best efforts, that this town would do anything to dig its claws into all who lived there and drag them into the depths of hell. It was just a town. Full of people she cared about deeply, and there was fun to be had. 

But moments like that don’t last. Especially not when the performance ends and you’re stuck standing in front of a panel of judges, chests heaving with the physical effort, and waiting to be read for filth. 

—

Costumes. Emilio stared at Nora blankly for a moment, needing a drink more than he ever had in his goddamn life. “This is Hell,” he said flatly. “I’m in Hell. I always knew I’d end up here, but I thought I’d at least remember the dying part. I thought, hey, at least that part might be fun! Maybe I go out in a big blaze of glory, yeah, get everybody talking. Instead, I just end up in Hell without knowing how I got here. And Hell has costumes. Oh, no puedo creer que esto esté ocurriendo. I thought there’d be fire, at least.” 

Despite his dramatics, Emilio did make some effort to learn what Nora was teaching him. She’d worked pretty hard on this plan, and she did seem to be enjoying herself in a way he thought she deserved to. At least she let him throw some knives. It looked ridiculous and felt even weirder, but there was some quiet comfort in the familiar sensation of a knife gripped between his fingers. 

He hated everything about standing up on stage. He hated the lights, he hated the people looking at him, he hated the fact that he could feel people behind him watching from backstage. His eyes darted through the silhouetted figures in the crowd, trying to determine which of them was out to kill Shelby Peckman over a $30 gift certificate, but the lights made it impossible to actually see any of their faces or expressions. His eyes landed on Shelby herself, who looked excited and cheerful and way too happy to be someone in danger of being murdered. Everyone in this town was a fucking idiot, Emilio thought. Himself included.

The performance was terrible. Emilio spent most of it wishing that the lights at the top of the stage would fall and crush him, but he’d never been particularly lucky. Tragically, he survived the entire ordeal with his leg aching and his chest heaving, all his knives sticking out of the target across the stage. (All his throwing knives, at least. He’d managed to sneak a few extra knives into his costume, though not as many as he’d have liked. Nora had chosen a particularly tight getup.)

With it finished, he and Nora faced the four judges. Shelby clapped her hands. “That was terrible!” She said happily, writing in her notebook.

“I feel I’ve lost something,” lamented the man beside her, his head in his hands. “I feel I’ve lost something I can never get back. You’ve taken something precious from me.”

“I wish you’d thrown one of the knives at me,” the third judge chimed in, shaking her head.

Three heads turned to the final judge, who sat silent with their chin propped on their hands. Emilio blinked. Shelby cleared her throat. The final judge stood, bringing their hands together in a slow clap. “I loved it,” they said earnestly. “I don’t know what everyone else is talking about. I think it was the best one of the night! I’m using my veto to move you on to the next round.”

Emilio was definitely in Hell.

—

The lack of applause, the audiences clear distaste for what was happening, the uncomfortable energy in the room. Someone in the back, after a knife flew a little too close to their head, was having a full blown anxiety attack. Fear radiated off of him in tasty waves that gave Nora a burst of energy. This was what performance was all about. Forget making the crowd happy, the slack jaws, glassy eyes and uncomfortable round of applause was worth it. For the fleeting moment Nora could understand why anyone would want to do this. It was hilarious.

The judges' critiques were right until the last one got it wrong. What the fuck was a veto to get them to the next round? They weren’t supposed to get to the next round. They were supposed to hang around backstage and solve a mystery. And if that person wanted the worst act to precede forward, well there was no nicer way to say it, that was the person sabotaging this whole thing. Nora slid that piece of information into her back pocket. “Wow.” She deadpanned the word in her monotone, her affect one of a bored teenager who could really be anywhere else right now. “Sick. It’s been Inigo Montoya’s dream to win a talent show his whole life.” Nora glanced at Emilio, his body language was screaming fed up with this shit. “It was his father’s dream. And his fathers before him. Prepare for us to win.” 

The judge that liked them clapped, the other judges sat there in bewilderment, the audience member having the anxiety attack was crying so hard they decided to leave. Nora was going to miss her little snack. The crowd applauded with hesitation, each person looking at their neighbors. A susurration of whispers ran through them, disbelief or disdain. Nora didn’t care. She left the stage, making her way back to the green room for talent acts that were allowed to go on. “That was great.” She told Emilio, stopping halfway between the stage and the green room. “I think we should search that judge’s makeup room.” 

Not bothering to wait for his idea, Nora was off, tracking down the door that read Taylor Finch. It wasn’t locked, and since this production was small, it turned out that all judges shared the same backstage space. Nora’s hands were instantly prying through purses and backpacks and she searched for anything that had a blue paw print designating it a clue. “This show is so bad, I get why Shelby couldn’t give it up.” Nora noted, eating a granola bar snack she just pulled out of a bag. “Did you see the act before us? Ventriloquism. In 2024. Fucking asshole.” 

—

There was something undeniably unnatural about the judge who enjoyed their terrible performance. Emilio scowled at them, trying to will them into taking back their veto — what the fuck was a veto? — and dismissing ‘Axis Rock’ from the show. But the judge only maintained their too-wide smile, hands still clasped together in some strange ghost of their excited applause. Shelby met Emilio’s eye and shrugged, clearing her throat. “All right, Axis Rock!” She said. “You move on to round two! Congratulations!” 

Emilio decided to double her rate. No, actually, he would triple it. He’d make her give them a kidney or something. 

He glared at the judges even as Nora began to speak, nostrils flaring with irritation at her monologue. He should have never let her pick his alias for this job. He was sure he’d never agreed to make her pick a backstory, because he’d been pretty certain he wouldn’t need one. It was supposed to be a pretty simple gig. Go in, perform, get voted out, and spend the rest of the show in the audience observing reactions. He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out where they’d went wrong. But he knew it went back to that fourth judge, somehow. There must have been a motivation there. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

Emilio shot one last glare at the judges’ table before following Nora offstage and into the backstage area. He shot her a glare, too. “That was the worst thing I have ever gone through,” he retorted. “I’m not doing it again.” They’d find another tactic if they had to, but there was no way in hell Emilio was putting on a repeat performance of that. He nodded at Nora’s plan. “Yeah. You’re right.” Even if the judge wasn’t a suspect — which, as far as Emilio was concerned, they were — he’d like to ruin their day just a little by fucking with their shit. 

He followed Nora, who he knew would find the makeup room without much trouble. Once inside, he began rifling through things. “Shelby is an idiot,” he replied. “You know she isn’t even being paid? It’s a position they sign up for. Posición voluntaria. They’re all here because they wanted to be. I don’t understand it.” He yanked open a draw with a particularly violent slam, sifting through… a pile of fast food sauces. He took one out, holding it up for Nora to see. “It’s orange,” he said flatly. “Who eats something this orange?” Figuring it might, somehow, come in handy, he slipped the package into his pocket. “Is that the puppet? Or the, uh, the one who sat on the stage with the plastic cups?” He had no idea what ventriloquism was, and he hadn’t been paying nearly enough attention to know which act went on directly before them.

—

“You’re being dramatic.” It was funny. This was a shit experience. Nora loved it. People who wanted to do this constantly were freaks. Good for them. “You’ve been like stabbed and shit. Would it make this experience better if I stabbed you on stage?” ‘Audience in Shock; Bloody Mishap at Talent Show’ would make for a very amusing title. But, Nora vehemently did not want to land in any newspaper article ever again in her life. 

“Lots of people eat orange things. Like oranges. Naranja. And people who eat.” The last part was a pointed comment. Nora cracked her neck, going through people's things was hard work for the pointed down position. “The puppet. The plastic cups was weird. I thought they were going to pull a Pitch Perfect. In 2024. Asshole.” 

Private investigator work as invigorating. Nora loved her work. She loved an excuse for breaking into people’s belongings and snooping into their life. She loved that it meant something, a mystery would be solved, a puzzle piece would fall into place and the world would change around them because of what they discovered. Drawers flew open around her, papers and make-up scattered around, the mystery of what was wrong with mysterious judge number three was solved when Nora found a magazine full of unicorns in heavy metal glam. Only a freak who liked that could like Axis Rock. 

Nora’s leather pants cricked and creaked as she turned to throw the magazine at Emilio. “Mira esta porquería.” A laugh tinted her monotone voice. By now the room was a mess, and Nora wasn’t sure any clues had been found. “These judges are brave for not having weapons. Anyone crazy enough to go on stage here is crazy enough to attack a judge. Do they not believe in self-defense?” 

—

“I would rather be stabbed,” Emilio replied flatly. It was true, too. Being stabbed hurt only for a moment or two. The knife went in, and there was pain. The knife came out, and there was more. But after, it faded. It ebbed out, it went away. Even if someone recorded it on their stupid phone, it wouldn’t hurt the same when you watched it back later. This experience was one that Emilio was pretty sure was going to haunt him until the day he died. “Do you want to?” If she stabbed him on stage, at least it would be funny. 

Nora pointed out the existence of fruit, and Emilio wrinkled his nose. “Don’t trust it,” he said, pulling a face. He ignored her pointed comment, going back to rifling through the 

drawers instead. They had much more pressing concerns than his occasional aversion towards food. The sauce did look gross — there was no way Nora could pretend it didn’t. “Right. A pitch perfect.” He had no idea what it meant, but he figured Nora was probably right on them being assholes. Most people were assholes. 

This judge was certainly no exception. Emilio found a few more things that raised some eyebrows, from pens with fluffy pompoms on top to DVDs with incredibly bloody cover. What kind of person were they dealing with here? He glanced over at Nora’s find, something warm flowing through his chest as she called his attention to it in Spanish rather than English. He kept his expression neutral, knowing she’d probably prefer it that way. “Can’t get a good read on them,” he admitted, wrinkling his nose. None of the shit they’d found seemed to go together. The puzzle pieces didn’t fit. 

He moved behind the desk, idly checking the back of the mirror. “People always think they don’t need them,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Like nothing can touch them. But nobody is untouchable.” Not hunters with decades of experience under their belts, not little girls safe in their own living rooms. “Anybody can be…” He trailed off, something catching his eye. He flattened himself against the wall shoving his hand behind the desk and reaching around until he got a good grip on it. He yanked it out, holding it up for Nora to see. 

It was… a wig? A wig that looked… a little bit like Shelby’s hair. “This is weird,” he said. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

—

“You realize, if I stabbed you, you would still have to sing and dance the rest of the song.” As much as Nora liked to torment Emilio, there was a protectiveness that lived inside her. The one that wanted to help those important to her. Emilio was important to her. Her friend. Her mentor. Her - Well. He mattered. She didn’t want to hurt him. It was all big talk when it came to breaking his kneecaps, and never a shred of follow through. “You’d just be extra grumpy.” Nora threw in an eye-roll, for the showmanship. 

“You don’t trust anything,” Nora added. “Oh. Maybe it’s extra hot sauce. And when Shelby put it on her food, it would burn her to death.” Stranger things had happened in this town. That was a fun feature of Wicked’s Rest. Things that shouldn’t happen, kept happening. “Pitch Perfect is a movie. It was acc-nnoying” Nora could feel the disgust rising in her just for saying it. Was there a video on the internet of her doing the cup song? Yes. Did her fathers insist on it? Yes. Was it one of the biggest shames in her life and take fifty-thousand takes to make, half of them dissolving in her fathers yelling at her for not taking it seriously enough even though she was a clunky eight-year-old who just wasn’t talented at singing and cup shit? Also yes.  

Another drawer in the judge’s area revealed a Pikachu doll with pins sticking out of it. Whatever magic was supposed to be happening with that, Nora had no clue. She tossed it over her shoulder and went on exploring. Underneath were three peach flavor condoms and a physics textbook. “This person is a freak.” There was almost respect in Nora’s voice. Whoever was so confident to have the weirdest assortment of items lying around, like good for them. Shelby should have had her eye out on this weird judge to begin with. 

“People are dumb.” It was a shared ideal at Axis Investigation. But sometimes it needed to be repeated. “Anyone can be… dumb?” Nora looked up, trying to finish what statement Emilio was going to make to watch him putting his fake investigator license to work. “That looks like Shelby’s hair.” Nora pointed out the obvious. See that was her job as the apprentice, she didn’t have to make the fancy connections that brought in the big bucks. She got to break into things and have all the fun. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t throw her wildest ideas around. “Is Shelby already dead? Is the killer pretending to be her?” 

A pause. A moment. “Oh. Then the killer would be wearing the wig, huh?” Nora moved around the other mirror. Nothing. Boo. Nora moved to the closet, flipping it over and instantly jumping out of the way as a mannequin in a ladder costume came toppling out, revealing a knife and a note sticking out of the back. “Oh. You’ve got mail.” Nora told Emilio, pointing. 

—

“I’d probably pass out before we finished if you got me good enough. Then you could drag me off stage, make it part of the act. Would be a hit.” He kept his tone… his version of light, which was to say, a thing only Nora could differentiate. She’d never actually stab him, and he’d never actually ask her to. But this was the kind of thing Emilio found funny. The mental image of Nora stabbing him on stage and then dragging him off after was a little entertaining, if only for the knowledge of what the judges’ faces would look like in the aftermath. 

He snorted at Nora’s assessment, which… wasn’t far off, really. “I trust you,” he pointed out, glancing over to her and hoping she wouldn’t ask him to make a list of other things and people he trusted. They both knew it would be a short one. “It was what?” He tried to wrap his head around the extra syllable in the familiar word. Was it intentional? Nora didn’t slip with her words often; she was careful about the way she spoke. It was one of the things Emilio liked about her. “Whatever. I’ll make sure not to watch that one.” As if he was watching any movie that Teddy didn’t put on the television before sitting on him. 

The dressing room didn’t make m

uch more sense the more they uncovered within it. There was a metal can of bug spray with the top sawed off, a straw sticking out of it. A few loose screws scattered across the desk. Fliers for various events around town with words and faces cut out of them. Emilio couldn’t begin to decipher what it all might mean, and none of it seemed to properly match the personality of the person they’d seen at the judges’ table. “They are definitely strange,” he agreed, holding up one of the fliers for Nora to see. Maybe she could make more sense of it than he could.

At least the wig felt like a clue to the specific mystery they were trying to solve here. There weren’t a lot of normal, innocent reasons Emilio could think of for having a wig that looked like your coworker (covolunteer?)’s hair laying around, especially not when the coworker in question was the subject of a murder attempt. “That’s Shelby’s hair,” he agreed solemnly, tossing the wig towards Nora so she could study it a little closer.

His ‘training’ of Nora was never quite an intentional thing. He didn’t have lessons in mind, didn’t have a specific regimen for her to study. Emilio himself wasn’t exactly trained to do the things he did — it was mostly instinct. But Nora had the same instinct, and Emilio could foster that. He could let her study things for herself, let her come to her own conclusions just like she did now, with the way she dismissed her first thought. 

He glanced over again as the mannequin fell from the closet, moving in to take a look at it. Reaching down, he pulled the knife out of the mannequin’s back, freeing the note. Unfolding it, he squinted at the words. 

It took him a moment to read them, though nothing about it was particularly complex. Even in Spanish, Emilio’s literary skills were lacking. In English, he barely knew enough to get by at all. He didn’t read the note aloud; he knew it would have been a little embarrassing, the clunky way he’d have to sound out each syllable. But he read it to himself with his brows knitting together, holding it out for Nora after.

Richard, it began. If you’re reading this, it means I’ve done what we always said we would do. You never needed her. None of us did. Don’t worry. No one will ever know. I’ve hired someone to take care of the aftermath. No one will even know what happened until the show is over.

—

“Why drag you off stage?” Nora added to the bit. “We could make you bleeding out on the stage part of the act. The crowd would be horrified. Edge of their seats. Will the EMTs get here in time or not? They’ve probably never heard of duct tape.” And that was on the general populas being stupid. “Plus, the show would probably be canceled, Shelby wouldn’t be in danger, and it’d be another case solved. And I’d be the new best private investigator in town.” Nora turned slowly to face Emilio, hand on the knife they both knew she had tucked in the outfit, tilting her head as if she was considering it. 

Nora didn’t bother to explain the acapella of it all. No one needed that cursed knowledge sitting in the back of their minds. She also didn’t comment that Emilio wouldn’t watch anything anyway. People who didn’t watch things were weird. By the way. Because everyone watched things. It’s twenty-twenty-four. The television has been a home staple for her whole life. Not watching things was just weird. But that wasn’t a hill worth dying on. Maybe his life was better since pop culture didn’t haunt his every waking moment. Good for him. 

The fliers were weird. Nora dug them. They were like art, the way everything was cut out. She’d remember how that looked for future projects. The flier went into one of her many pockets. On the discovery of the letter, and the realization that the fliers were not being used for weird art, but instead weird letters, it really made them less exciting. But Nora still kept the flier. The idea would still work for her.  

Nora caught the wig tossed to her and flipped it inside out to look at the tag. There, on the tag, written in Sharpie right under the hand wash only tag was a name. Magaly Lola. Magaly Lola? “Does the name Magaly Lola mean anything to you?” Not to lie, Nora didn’t do any of the research she’d normally do on this case. Because it was a talent show. For thirty dollars. And there had been a lot of rehearsal needed before time. Generally, she liked to look up everything she could. Instead, she looked up TikTok dances. 

Emilio read the letter, then handed it to her. She traded the wig back to him. “What the fuck, Richard.” Who was Richard? Who was Magaly? Where was Shelby right now? “Do you think coming here was a mistake? I mean like, what if they are killing Shelby right now?” Nora allowed a moment to share a look at Emilio before slamming her way through the door and booking it to the stage. See, she had to be the one to run there. Emilio was old and slow. He’d show up when his fossilized bones managed it. This was her job. 

Nora burst through the auditorium’s doors just in time to see a magician’s act set up. “For my next trick, I’m going to make someone disappear!” The man on stage announced, a smile twisting at his features. “Do we have any volunteers?” The bastard didn’t even pretend to look around as he pointed right at Shelby, whose hand wasn’t even up by the way. “Shelby! I think you would make the perfect assistant.” He turned to his real assistant, the one he could and should have been using this whole time. “Don’t you agree, Magaly?” 

Oh fuck, Nora thought to herself. They were going to off Shelby in front of everyone. 

—

“There you go,” Emilio agreed, nodding his head. “That’s the kind of creative problem solving we’re known for. Tell you what, if we don’t find the killer before they want us back on stage, we’ll go with that plan. You take over Axis, I’ll fuck off to the cemetery, Shelby doesn’t get killed. I bet they’ll call you the winner of the show, give you that gift card. Everybody wins, yes?” He glanced down at her hand on the knife, gesturing to himself as if inviting her to go ahead and take a stab. It was the kind of joke he was pretty sure no one else in his life would find remotely funny, but Nora got it. Nora got plenty of things.

Nora also got his sentiment that this case, while stupid, was turning into something at least remotely interesting. That was part of what he liked about this job — sometimes, even the things that started off annoying had a way of sucking you in. It was a good distraction, when he needed one. He could think about Shelby and her death threats and the fliers and the letter and not have to worry about the shitshow that was his own life, and that was better. That was preferable. Maybe it was for Nora, too. Maybe that was why they worked well together.

She caught the wig as he tossed it to her, reading off a name on the tag inside. Emilio’s brow furrowed. There was something familiar about it, but he wasn’t sure what. Had he heard it before? Or did he just think he had? Either way… “It can’t be that easy. Can it?” The murderer wouldn’t leave evidence with their name scrawled on it, would they? They wouldn’t kill a woman in the middle of a public talent show, wouldn’t fail to even clear the building beforehand. Except…

Except this was Wicked’s Rest. And they absolutely fucking would.

Nora took off running, and Emilio scrambled to follow her. He was far slower, and his leg protested even the glacial speeds with which he moved, but eventually, he reached the stage. Aching and grimacing, sure, but the important thing was that he made it. And he made it in time for the killers to practically announce themselves on stage. Emilio let out a groan from where he stood off to the side, marching up the steps to the stage and yanking open the curtain, hoping Nora would follow.

“Stop,” he snapped. 

Off stage, one of the judges gasped. “Axis Rock?”

“Go fuck yourself,” he replied.

One of the other judges hummed in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that’s definitely Axis Rock.”

—

This was getting good. Juicy. Like a television show. Pitch Perfect could never. Well, actually it could, but it would involve a lot more singing. Like Emilio would be singing a song right now and then she'd be expected to join in. Nora couldn't sing though. So it was a really good thing this wasn't Pitch Perfect.  Nora followed Emilio onto the stage, the bright lights making shadows of the judges. "Yeah, fuck you!" Nora agreed, her monotone voice happily trailing after Emilio’s. "We were just pretending before. This is our real talent.”

“Ruining shows?” Someone from the audience heckled. Nora flipped them off.

Nora marched over to the magician set up. The magician looked shocked. Which wasn't a magical look. Nora kicked him in the shin. "Richard the Fake is here to kill Shelby. And he was going to use that box to kill her." Nora turned and pointed to the large prop Shelby was supposed to stand in. She let the audience get their shock value. The ooos and the ahhhs. She let them sit there a bit, Richard whimpering in pain over his kicked shin before walking over to the box and kicking in the fake back. "And this is proof."

"That's not proof!" Richard yowled, he was a cat in pain. "It's a magic show! Magic isn't fucking real! Everyone knows it's all sleight of hand!" The audience started murmuring in agreement among themselves. Everyone knew magic wasn't real. Why was Axis Rock ruining another performance? Hadn't it been bad enough that they all hit to sit through their horrible performance? They were really desperate for that 30-dollar gift cart. One loud voice was boldly proclaiming she felt really bad for them, obviously they had a lot of issues. 

God Nora hated people and their dumb little minds. This was obviously a murder attempt, why weren't they paying attention? Nora turned to face Emilio, giving him a 'What do we do now?' look. Someone in the audience started to boo. "GET OFF THE STAGE! I WANT TO SEE SOME MAGIC." A tomato hit the ground in front of Nora. "Who the fuck brings tomatoes to a talent show?" Nora asked the faceless audience. 

—

In a perfect world, Richard the stupid fucking magician would have collapsed into a puddle of tears the moment Emilio and Nora reappeared on stage. He would have confessed everything, in front of the crowd, and stood perfectly still to wait for the real cops to show up and… probably shake his hand and apologize for the inconvenience before letting him ride shotgun to the police station, or something, because cops fucking sucked, and Emilio did their jobs for them more often than not, anyway. But at least at that point, it wouldn’t be his problem anymore. At least if Richard the Terrible confessed, Emilio could go home and have a drink as opposed to sneaking them from the flask he’d barely managed to contain in this outfit Nora had picked.

But this world wasn’t perfect, and Richard didn’t confess to his would-be crime. Emilio and Nora were going to have to prove it. At least Nora got a good kick in on the guy first — Emilio felt some satisfaction in knowing that he wasn’t the only one on stage whose leg was aching. 

“Ay, ¡cállate!” He snapped in Richard’s direction, shooting the man a dark glare. Richard, for his part, looked a little taken aback. 

“You suck!” Someone from the crowd shouted. Another tomato hit the stage.

“¡Vete a la chingada!” Emilio called back. “I’m going to solve a murder. Is that good? Is that okay with everyone?”

“I’m not dead,” Shelby said sheepishly. 

“Fuck you, Shelby,” Emilio replied. 

Walking out onto the stage, Emilio inspected everything. The box Richard had wanted Shelby to climb in, the assistant who hadn’t wanted to assist, the stage where Shelby would have stepped out to complete the trick, the —

Wait.

He circled around behind the box, to the stage where the false back would have opened. He took one step, then two. Richard drew a sharp intake of breath behind him, and Emilio stopped. Hadn’t the stage been a little creaky during their performance earlier? Emilio walked to the spot on the floor, pressing his foot against it. It creaked. Richard hissed.

Emilio turned to the woman who’d been with Richard on stage. “Magaly, wasn’t it?” She nodded, looking uncertain. “Great. Stupid name. Magaly, come stand right here.”

Magaly paled, looking to Richard. Richard looked like he’d been sucking lemons. Emilio felt vindication creeping in.

—

“Yeah,  ¡cállate!” Nora repeated the word. She’d heard him say it before, and it was fifty-fifty that it was some big cuss word that might get her beat up somewhere or something about being quiet. Either way, she had his back on this one. As Emilio announced he was going to solve a murder, Nora did her job as the hype man. She stood at his side, nodding her head, blank expression made comical by the KISS makeup that was now slightly droopy because of the sweat. 

More talking, more audience reactions, another tomato. This crowd was rotten, just like their tomatoes. “Fuck you, Shelby.” Nora echoed again. And Emilio thought this was going to be a bad case. This was the best case they’d had in a while.  Emilio managed to keep his title as the town’s best detective by missing what Nora hadn’t noticed. A weak floor. The pair sweated, staring at each other. Nervous.

There was a split second where they met each other’s eyes and Nora knew what they were about to do, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. The two bolted forward, rushing towards the judge's table, hands outstretched for the 30-dollar gift certificate, and maybe Shelby’s neck. Nora would understand that. But the stage collapsed underneath them, right at the weak spot that had been creaking under Emilio’s inspection. 

The pair toppled down like ragdolls, limbs, hair, and costumes flying everywhere. Nora moved closer to the edge of the broken stage. “They fell into their own trap. That’s… pathetic.” Nora told them as if her leather costume hadn’t squeaked while bending to look down. 

The crowd was going wild. The judges slapped the button that made confetti go everywhere. Nora grabbed Emilio and positioned them so she could get a selfie with their fallen foes. This picture was going on the favorites wall, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

—

He realized what the pair were going to do about half a second before they did it. He was pretty sure they figured out what they were going to do about half a second before they did it, too. There was a moment of eye contact, a heartbeat, and then scrambling. Emilio took a step back to avoid being plowed over. As far as he was concerned, his part in this case was over and done with. He’d been hired to find out who wanted Shelby dead. He’d done that. Whatever happened next was someone else’s business.

That step back was a good idea for more reasons than one, it seemed. Richard and Magaly, in their haste to escape and snag that stupid gift card (was Emilio underestimating how good this stupid restaurant was?), forgot about their shitty murder plot. Emilio watched as they fell through the floor, just inches away from where he’d been standing before. 

Nora moved closer, and Emilio did, too. He peered down into the hole, looking at the pair of bad magicians who — they weren’t even dead. Their death trap designed to kill a talent show judge to earn them a thirty dollar gift certificate wasn’t even deadly. Was anyone in this town competent? Sometimes, Emilio wondered. 

He was startled by the sudden confetti falling onto the stage, and then Nora was grabbing him and pulling him into a picture. He scowled at the camera, which she probably preferred, anyway. Shelby came up onto the stage, glancing warily down into the hole.

“You saved my life,” she said tearfully.

“I don’t think it would have killed you,” Emilio replied. “They’re not even dead.”

“I want you to have this,” Shelby continued as if Emilio hadn’t spoken, thrusting the thirty dollar gift certificate towards Nora with one hand and putting her other on Emilio’s shoulder. He stiffened under the touch, carefully shrugging it away. 

From the hole, Richard let out an anguished scream. “That was our gift certificate!” 

—

Nora kicked a spare piece of debris into the hole at the screaming Richard. “Your legal nickname is dick, and you’re worried about a gift card.” People really needed to consider their life choices. Shelby was crying. Another judge was crying. The weird judge had their phone out and was recording all of this. If this ended up on youtube, Nora was going to make a pact with an eldritch abomination to haunt the internet forever. 

The confetti stopped flying, the auditorium emptied out, Richard and Magaly cried as if they were going to receive a life sentence. Cops showed up, but that was Emilio’s problem to deal with. Nora always made herself scarce before the police showed up. She kicked around the back of the building, spray painting monsters eating puppets until Emilio showed up.

There was only one thing left to do. They went to the Bottomless Booty. The place was loud and it smelled like a wet dog. Their server said something in the worst pirate voice that was ever used in the history of the earth. The pair were still dressed as reject KISS members, making them clash hilariously with the decor. They were seated next to a wax pirate with a ship’s wheel in front of him. Every now and then the wheel would spin and a crackling speaker would play a disjointed arrrrr. Nora flipped open the menu and took her first look. Thirty dollars wouldn’t cover a single meal. Good thing this would be added to Shelby’s bill.

[mystar-girl57]

“Us against the world.”

Neteyam x Reader

Summary: With you and Neteyam finally coming of age and being seen as adults to your clan having completed your inkinmaya, you learn of the new responiblies that come with it. The two of you start to grow apart, being so caught up on your tasks. One day Neteyam is granted a break and the two of your are able to escape for some time. But we all know that paradise cannot last forever.

Warnings: Overworked Neteyam, mentions of struggling/ranting, implied character death at the end, let me know if i missed anything.

Category: Fluff to Angst

Dictionary: yawne: beloved || Oel ngati kameie: I see you

Wc: 2.1k

==========

These past few moons have been a whirlwind for you and Neteyam to say the least. With two of you completing your ikinmaya and now being recognized as adults there were now responsibilities to carry out. Jake was often taking Neteyam around camp and outside to the forest, giving him teachings on how to be a strong and proper Olo'eyktan. What to do to keep peace, how to keep The People safe, especially with the Sky People returning, all of this and more. You on the other hand were being torn all over the place trying to figure out what your purpose was.

You were either with Mo’at and Kiri, working with the herbs and ointments, how to perfect your remedies, be in touch with Eywa. Or you were trailing behind Neytiri and the other warriors of the clan, huntings for food, scouting for Sky People and their Recom Avatars that could be prowling around your home. “All the training you can get is good.” Your father would remind you should he ever hear your complaints about exhaustion or how annoyed you were with all that The People expected of you. But the one thing that seemed to bug you the most, and Neteyam too was how far apart you had gotten. Would you ever be as close as you use to be when you were just babes? Or had that friend ship crumbled and turned to ash?

==========

“Neteyam. Neteyam!” The boy’s head snapped back up, his attention returning to his father who stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest while his tail flicked with annoyance. “Boy, are you listening to me? You’ve been zoned out staring at that blade of grass for the last ten minutes.” Jake scolded. Neteyam instantly broke his father’s gaze and looked down at his hands that were picking at some grass. “Sorry Sir.” He apologized, his voice holding its usual meek demeanor to it when confronting his father. Jake ran a hand across his face and let out a sharp sigh. “What’s going on? You’re obviously distracted so come on out with it.”

Neteyam shook his head, unsure what to say. He did not know why he had been so disconnected as of late, usually he was in tune with his father’s teaching, soaking up every word the Olo'eyktan had to say. Neteyam was hungry to learn he truly was, but he was finding it difficult as of late to focus. “I don’t know sir.” He responded honestly, turning back up to Jake. “I’m just finding it hard to concentrate, I guess it might be because I haven't had a break from your teachings in so long?”

Neteyam watched as his father’s expression changed just barely leaning to a frown and instantly the eldest Sully son wanted to take back what he said. “But its not an excuse sir I know. I’ll do better to concentrate.” He added but Jake shook his head raising his hand for his son to stop speaking. “No you’re right son, you’re right.” Jake sighed, remembering his wife’s words of ‘Let them be kids’ “We haven’t had a break from this in a while, why don’t you take the day or something. Go for a fly, be back before eclipse.”

The Sully boy could not believe his ears at what his father was saying. Never once had the stone hard Marine suggested his son to take a break, be a kid. He figured that his mom must have said something. But despite this, Neteyam was hesitant to leave, wondering if there was a catch but Jake simply gave him a pat on the back and a gentle nudge toward camp.

==========

When Neteyam arrived at High Camp his first mission was to find you. Oh how it had

been so long that you and the teen had just said ‘hi’, let alone see each other but Neteyam marked it off as one of the sacrifices he had to make as the clan’s future Olo'eyktan.

Thankfully, finding you proved to be easy as today was one of the days that you stayed in camp helping Mo’at and Kiri. The moment that Neteyam peeked into the tent and sat you sitting there with your tail tucked around you, gossiping with his little sister whilst grinding something up in the mortar with your pestle he felt at ease. Neteyam cleared his throat while he stepped into the tent getting yours and Kiri's attention. “Well hello there stranger, remember we exist?” Kiri instantly teased, rising to her feet to hug her brother. Neteyam rolled his eyes, looping his arms around his sister’s waist. “Forgive me, I was kept away, busy with more important tasks.” He teased back, Kiri giving him a look of mock offense.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sibling’s interaction. The sound of your laugh brought Neteyam back and he remembered why he was here. “Kiri, do you think you could spare y/n for the afternoon?” His sister made it look as though she was thinking as she pulled away from him and made her way over to you. “Oh I don't know,” Kiri looked down at you from where you sat then back to Neteyam, “maybe.” Neteyam raised a brow, neither understanding or apperacting his sister’s antics. On any other day maybe he’d have more patience but he was desperate to spend time with you. “Kiri.” He sighed using what his siblings teased him in calling his: Olo’eyktan tone. “Oh fine!” Kiri put her hands up, “But really it’s up to y/n if they want to go.”

Neteyam’s eyes fell on you, silently asking what your choice was and you nodded with a grin. “Give me a few moments to clean up and I’ll come join you.” At your words, the boy couldn’t help but let his teeth and canines show as a smile grew on his face. With a quick nod (and Kiri shooing him out) Neteyam left the tent to call his ikran. As the magnificent creature came swooping down, landing in front of him, a familiar chirp caught his ears causing them to perk up and Neteyam didn’t need to turn around to know it was you calling your own companion.

“You forgot your visor skxawng.” You teased, petting your ikran when she landed in front of you. “Hard for me to remember when you always bring it.” Neteyam snarked right back as he took the visor from your hand and slipped it onto his forehead. “I depend on you.” “Oh trust me,” You smirked, gracefully hoping up onto your ikran and tipping down the visor, “I know.”

And with that, your ikran rose up to its feet before tipping and falling backward. The two of you free fell in the air for a good ten seconds before flipping over and flying forward, Neteyam in your wake.

==========

The two of you lost track of time while flying. You had no set course, you just followed the sun while swooping around, diving and chasing each other. It was times like this that were most dear to you. Both you and Neteyam knew that these outings were going to become more and more rare but whenever the teen boy was with you he felt like he could be himself. He didn’t care how cliche it sounded. Neteyam knew that whenever you were near he could let his guard down, drop the Olo'eyktan act and just be a kid.

“Should we land for a moment and rest?” Neteyam called out to you, watching you race a head, dive down and come up by him. “One of these mountains should have a good water spot.” He suggested once you were side by side. “Lead the way Mr. Olo'eyktan.” You grinned. Neteyam rolled his eyes at the nickname, “I told you not to call me that.” He grumbled, ears down in annoyance but you just kept grinning all the same. Nothing could deter you when you were with him. You could be as silly and goofy as you wanted with Neteyam and he would just laugh and shake his head. No judgment or scoldings came from him when you were yourself.

The two of you while close in age and sharing similar interests were night and day in comparison when you were acting like yourselves. Neteyam was very calm and collected, having a good laugh every now and then. He made sure to be more cautious, the look before jumping type. You however would take the plunge without a second thought. Who cares if there are rocks at the bottom? You would deal with it later. Any time that you would you loved to let loose and dance and flip about. You were the sun and Neteyam was your moon, feeding off your light and energy, keeping him going.

==========

“This seems like a good spot,” You announced as your ikran touched down on the green grass, Neteyam’s landing next to yours. Just as the teen had said there was a nice grassy spot with a pool of water and decent tree coverage.

You dismounted, swinging your leg over and hopping down, rubbing your ikran’s forehead waiting for Neteyam to get off before coming over to him and gently grabbing his wrist, leading him over to the bank to sit. The grass was soft underneath your fingers, your tail swaying gently behind you as you sat.

“So tell me,” You looked over to Neteyam, the two of you sitting shoulder to shoulder, “How has the Olo'eyktan training coming?” Instantly Neteyam winced and shook his head, picking a blade of grass out of the earth and fiddling with it. “I don’t know,” he sighed, “I want to make Dad proud of me, happy that I’m his son. I train as hard as I can, i watch after Kiri, Tuk and Lo’ak.” He groaned, “Do not get me started on Lo’ak. I know he wants Dad to notice him but he keeps going about it the wrong way, it is only pissing him off, then I get in trouble. And dad says, ‘Don’t take the heat for his messes.’ Well when I don’t I still get the heat for them its just-!” Neteyam took a deep breath, unable to think of the words. Neteyam was frustrated, something he wasn’t able to reveal often but when you gently took his hand in yours he instantly was brought back to the present turning to look at you.

“I can not say that I know what you’re going through,” You admitted, being the middle child of three, “I know from watching my sister though that the burden of watching after your siblings, having all that pressure can be crippling, along with you now having Olo'eyktan duties but.” You squeezed his hand and looked up at him, your ears perked. “From what I see you do, you are doing amazing. Your siblings hold you in such high regard, you already have the clan's respect and trust that you’ll protect us in the future. To be so young you’re doing so good.” You reached up to cup the side of his face, “I’m proud of you.”

At your words Neteyam’s eyes pooled with tears and he had to look up at the sky to keep them from falling. You chuckled softly and wrapped your arms around his waist pulling him down into a hug which he instantly reciprocated. “You mean the world to me yawne.” You whispered into his shoulder.

After several moments, you pulled away and Neteyam wiped his eyes and nose, still sniffling. You breathed out a small laugh and cupped his face with your hands once more getting him to look at you.

“Oel ngati kameie” you whispered, putting your foreheads together, your tails subconsciously entertaining. “Oel ngati kameie.” Neteyam whispered back.

For once in his life the teen felt that he had learned what his dad called: happiness. Everything felt perfect, just the two of you in your own little paradise, ready to face the world together.

But sadly, what neither of you would expect, would be the war to come in just a few months time. Humans versus Na’vi, machine versus water, the one battle that defeated the two of you.

[valentinehorrors]

Casey's Fears Part 2

(TW: transphobia, bullying, death)

Cave mouth.

Not something new he's heard, and to those who ask what happened, he gives a simple explanation, a hockey accident.

Not a lie, but not the full truth. And when one talks with an expert in in lying, that doesn't fly.

He almost says he doesn't want to talk about it, but something about those sharp, ice blue eyes that stare through any farce he could ever muster up compels him to open up once again.

His second true fear, being found out.

No one in the area knows of his original birth gender, he's learned his lesson.

While he doesn't remember much of the events after he was locked in his room, he remembers all too well the days following.

Casey's mom was, justifiably, very upset. His dad tried to blame the alcohol, how he was raised, that he just doesn't understand. Every excuse under the sun, he threw all of them out, attempting to stay afloat. But there really was no excuse to keep a whole garbage bag full of rat corpses and then spread said corpses on his son's bed.

"If she wants to be a man so bad then she has to learn to man up!"

That one earned him a firm slap. It was the worst argument Casey had ever witnessed. He slept in his sister's room that night, even she didn't fully know what had happened.

The next day, Casey's mom had told both him and his sister to pack up, that they were leaving. Going somewhere far away from that horrible old man that she herself had been to young and too in love to see how horrible he truly was. He had just woken up and was only taking about every other word but he got the memo.

"When you fall in love one day... Please... be sure you know who they are, who they truly are..."

Something like that at least.

Next thing he knew, he and his sister had turned packing into a game, distracted as what was once arguing turned to begging, Casey's father begging to stay afloat in the boat that he had started sinking in the first place. Casey's mom was going out because she had... something to do before moving them out, he struggled to remember, he was young and his sister even younger.

She said she was going to be back for them at ten.

8:00 AM

He made breakfast for his sister, she didn't really want to eat it, but he managed.

8:30 AM

Their father started... sobbing? That was new... and caused Case's stomach to churn, he didn't feel like throwing up again. He convinced his sister to listen to music, drown it out, that would work...

9:00 AM

He started banging at their door, begging forgiveness. A grown adult, a bumbling, crying mess. Casey might've considered it if he wasn't using the same breath to throw more excuses at him.

"I saw some shit back in my day! Every man needs to see some shit to toughen up! That's just how it goes!"

And yet...

"I can't have my girls taken away from me please!"

Yeah...

9:55 AM

Casey was hugging his sister close, seemed like the old man had gone bac to drowning his sorrows, he could vaguely hear him trying to call his mom again...

Just a bit longer...

10:00 AM

Any second now...

10:10 AM

His sister was worried, he swore she was coming back any second now...

10:30 AM

Any...

10:40 AM

Second...

11:00 AM

Now...

12:27 PM

...

There were lights outside...

After his mother's death, things changed drastically. His father went back to being quiet, but he was... overwhelmingly supportive. Legal name change, hormones, all paid for. He figures it's in the form of some kind of apology.

So they moved, brand new clean slate. Casey Jones, a punk kid, always getting into fights, blood running a bit too hot for his own good. Your average rebellious teen boy.

He had promised his mom that he would live as himself and be damn happy doing it.

"..."

Casey sighed as he finished his story, leaning back until he was now laying down on the cold concrete rooftop, staring at the dazzling night sky, stars glimmering as though they could see him and wanted him to know.

Mikey didn't respond for a bit, allowing the silence to rest over them. But his eyes never left the human, his cold gaze never left his human.

Eventually, those cold eyes appeared in Casey's vision as Mikey looked down at him, "And your teeth?"

Casey paused before nodding "oh, yeah, that was the whole point of that." He chuckled dryly, "So, few years later, I'm fully me... 'scept some assholes caught me changing after hockey practice... saw my binder..." He huffed as he moved his hands under his head, his own eyes moving from the vibrant stars to those frozen lakes the turtle had for eyes. He got quieter, voice a hushed whisper as he spilled secrets he had never breathed to anyone else before. "They called me a freak... They beat me... Doctor said I was lucky, didn't swallow any of the teeth..."

It was a subtle change, it's not like Mikey's eyes shifted dramatically or changed color, but the way he held them always changed when he let his mask drop. They got sharper, more observant, and cold, so very cold. Mikey's gaze could freeze the ocean, he almost would feel as though his blood was freezing, crystallizing, every time he felt those icy eyes on him, sending shivers through him.

"Humans truly do amaze me at times..." His voice was different too, his true voice lacked any actual emotion or indication of tone, it was also slightly deeper, as the turtle lightly raised his voice when he had his mask up.

No one else got to see this Mikey, no one else got to see those true cold eyes. Not even his brothers, all living with a lie.

The real Michelangelo was many things, numb, cold, observant, apathetic, curious...

And dark.

He wasn't an idiot, there's a reason that whenever he saw Mikey's true smile, it made Casey's hair stand on end, his gut saying one thing:

D A N G E R

Casey had two main fears, rats, and being outed.

Casey has three fears.

[weebsinstash]

werewolf bakugou sure as hell sounds like the insufferable asshole reader would reject and leave. he torments her and treats her like shit and when she fucks off into the sunset to be away from his reaction is just >:O

These fucking audiobooks really have me about to be on some shit like "Yandere Werewolf Bakugou x Reader where you just absolutely beat the shit out of him and even try to kill him and you do not love him AT ALL and wish death on him and his entire family"

Like ok, I admit I'm guilty and even had like kind of a plot going and building up in my head over time. Reader is a werewolf and is technically from Bakugou's pack because her parents are, but she was born outside the pack and was living off of pack grounds and was like 10 or something when her parents are killed by rogues, which horribly traumatizes her and she becomes a werewolf with a crippling fear of dogs and wolves. Reader, who has been raised in the human world up to this point, is brought to live in the pack now that you have no remaining family to take care of you, and you absolutely hate it for all sorts of reasons. There are wolves everywhere, the way their society operates is completely different than the rest of the country, ILLEGAL you would argue, like everything about them creeps you out, you're openly disgusted each time you learn something new

I imagine in comes Bakugou, you meeting as kids, and as an Alpha blood he's a hot headed little bastard. He probably thinks it's funny how you're a werewolf who knows almost nothing about wolves. Did your parents not love you enough to teach you where you came from? You're so shaking and weak, have you even started your training like the rest of them? And I imagine at some point his overbearing bully persona combines with his Alpha urges to hunt and dominate and he starts chasing you, as a game, he's howling with laughter as you can't even come close to outrunning him because, he can shift and you can't. You're just literally screaming and crying and he pounces on you to pin you down and he doesn't even realize what he's doing before you're pissing yourself and hyperventilating because all you see is a wolf's sharp snapping jaws right on top of you, right in your face, and some adults finally respond to all the screaming and come and peel Bakugou off of you as you refuse to let anyone touch you

Bakugou is a few years older than you so he's already able to shift, but everyone gets their wolf at different ages, and he sneers st you to "just wait until you get YOUR wolf" and before he can even continue you just burst into tears "I don't WANT a wolf!!! I HATE wolves!!!

All of this gets worse the more you learn about Wolfen society to the point you're openly and verbally expressing your disgust, like imagine sitting in your little werewolf school not being allowed to actually get a proper education on the country you're in and instead learning about werewolf laws and societies and Mr Aizawa is explaining the mate bond and how one mate's touch can help calm down the other and going into detail into those certain functions and you just BURST INTO TEARS "It can CONTROL YOUR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS? But that's RAPE! That isn't even REAL LOVE!!" and instantly earning the scorn of like, MOST OF YOUR PACK

As you get older you could not make it any more clear that you have no interest in contributing to the pack in any way, and the pack itself reinforces that. You don't get your ability to mind link and perform the ritual to join the pack bond until you get your wolf, so you "officially" becoming a member of the pack is delayed, year, after year, after year, until people are openly discussing with each other theories on what must be wrong with you. People are treating you like an outcast. Parents are telling their pups "now be a good pup and listen to your Alpha and be good for your pack or else the Moon Goddess will take your wolf just like The Outsider" and some people are just genuinely openly contemptuous of you (and you often give them reasons to, insulting their culture, usually rightfully so though, and often referring to them as if they are a completely different, primitive, and subhuman species than yourself)

Bakugou is training to try and compete and earn the coveted packs Head Alpha position and over the years you react to him less and less and I imagine it eventually escalates to Reader fighting back, and I have several ideas where the plot branches from here but one big revenge idea I keep having is, Bakugou usually chases Reader on a sort of schedule, maybe a specific time and along a specific route, and after years of being tormented, he's chasing you down and SNAP! You'd littered the path with actual fucking bear traps and lead him through the minefield until he stepped into one, and when he's on the ground howling in pain, before he has any time to react, because he's shocked you were capable of this, you proceed to beat the shit out of him, literally kicking and stomping him in the head and chest and ribs because, hey, he's such a big strong werewolf, what can a weak pathetic little crybaby like you do, right?! At least that's what you're screaming at him as you let loose YEARS of rage at not just him but the entire pack and even the Moon Goddess herself onto his body like, he's not gonna die but you draw blood, leave bruises, and eventually break bones. At some point he's not sure if you intend to teach him a lesson or actually kill him

And from here there are branching paths depending on like what I were to hypothetically choose

-the current Alpha is Bakugou's mom Mitsuki and she banishes Reader from the pack after what she does to her son and the future Alpha, and when Bakugou finally becomes Alpha himself years later, he summons everyone back to the pack lands for his ceremony, attendance mandatory, and that's when he finally has the authority to overrule his mother's decree to see Reader again, and maybe has to send people to retrieve her because she refuses to come back and a big reason she refuses is that she argues that, since she was never formally inducted into the pack, she is not an official member and thus, not obligated to return or even listen to what Bakugou says

-option b is Reader just straight up ages out of the system, refusing to participate in pack events or learn their culture or history and refusing to train or hang out with any of them, even the ones who might like her, and eventually one day just announces out of the blue "ok yall according to article 7 of the official pack law any wolf aged 18 or older can decide if they want to stay in the pack, so, i renounce you guys as my pack and choose to become a rogue" and everyone is fucking shocked because, werewolves are pack animals, how are you going to survive without other wolves? And you never even got your own wolf!

-option 3 is that Reader literally attempts suicide and pack adults send her to live elsewhere since she is clearly miserable in the pack and she winds up living in the human world again

(meanwhile Reader's case with shifting is multi choice of 1. She's literally been praying/cursing Moon Goddess her entire life not to give her a wolf because 'this is MY body, MY choices' and straight up threatening to kill the wolf if she gives her one 2. Reader actually did get a wolf when she was either sent away or alone and she somehow succeeds in rejecting her wolf or even killing her 3. Moon Goddess compromises and let's Reader have werewolf powers but not an actual wolf spirit, so you basically become an Alpha who cannot be controlled or ordered or taken over by your wolf, because you have no wolf, it's just you still being able to shift and havin all the perks of being awakened 4. Reader is a Lycan and doesn't shift until her like 20s and she finally shifts and she's bigger and stronger than all of them or 5. Reader is just a weird one-off case where she's a super late bloomer and maybe you don't even have your first shift until you're literally about to leave pack grounds and maybe Bakugou is RIGHT THERE and is absolute bonkers in yonkers THRILLED you finally have a wolf (and maybe you finally awakening activates a mate bond maybe idk)

I love the idea of like, Reader is in wolf form in front of Bakugo for the first time, whether it's your first shift or merely the first time he's seen you like this, and you instantly turn around and pounce on him and claw him up and beat his ass, like you INSTANTLY jump at the opportunity to throw hands with him and show him exactly what you think of him, like he's suddenly forced to have his like, his own Manhea Male Lead moment where he has to go "oh shit was I actually being absolutely unforgivable this whole time? I-I was just joking around, please don't go 🥺" ESPECIALLY if you turn out to be his mate

Like imagine it's a scenario where you've been gone for years and you're finally forced to briefly return to the pack and he sees you for the first time in forever and he instantly feels the mate pull but when he sprints up to you not only do you look absolutely disgusted but you don't even give him a chance before hitting him with "I reject you as my mate" and barely stop to breathe as you start a laundry list of reasons why you hate him/think he will never be good enough and at the end maybe you just kind of smirk "but maybe at the end of the day it doesn't matter what you do regardless because, you're still just a stupid, matted, rabid little wolf, and I would literally rather die than spend the rest of my life with one of you"

You really gotta hit him where it hurts. Gotta pay him back somehow for all those years he called you his prey and you around trying to scare you, right? The hunter becomes the hunted.

[sparatus]

For the emoji asks can I get these for Desolas aaaaand your choice pls? 🍧 SHAVED ICE 👑 CROWN 💧 DROPLET 💚 GREEN HEART

oc emoji asks

yesssss let's say [spins wheel of ocs] tippi? tippi <3

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

desolas: everything from his parents' home that wasn't, like, saren's was either put into storage or left in the house, which technically belongs to him and he's been hanging onto for his brother or kids if any of them wants it. his grandmother and saren occasionally drop by to tidy and keep the place from falling into disrepair. he can't go back anymore, the memories are too strong, but the comforter from his parents' bed was folded up and taken to his grandmother's home for safekeeping, and given to him when he married valis. sometimes, when he's upset, he wraps himself up in it and imagines he can still smell them.

quentius: he doesn't have many things from childhood beyond pictures, most of the things he's more sentimental about happened as an adult (his wife, his kids, his friends). he might be a little sad if the pictures of his baby self were lost, but they aren't that important to him in the long run.

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

desolas: when he was younger, he wanted to be somebody great, whose name would go down in history and be written across the stars. now that he's achieved that, he just wants to be remembered for being a good big brother, a loving husband, a doting father. he doesn't care about much else.

quentius: intelligent and just, loyal and true. he's not interested in fame, but if he could be remembered for being a good and honorable man, he'll be happy.

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

desolas: the ifura raid happened when desolas was 24, not long before he was given the choice to stay in the army and get officers' training or leave for uni or trade training to pursue a non-combat career. he'd been talking with his parents about his options before they died, and was close to settling on a career outside the military. after the raid, his depression and despair led him to stick with the army, because it was the only thing he felt like he could do when all of his creativity and interest in other subjects died with his parents and he had a little brother to provide for.

quentius: he's been entrusted with the truth about ierian's cardiac disease and what to do if he has an episode at work. he has nightmares about not responding fast enough, and his friend's death being his fault. in bad end, when ierian dies on the ascension, he's wracked with guilt about not being there to at least ease his friend's suffering before the ship went down.

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

desolas: touch his face. touch it. preening, running your claws through his crest, soft kisses, cupping his head in your hand so he can lean into the touch and maybe close his eyes as he lets you take the weight of his weary head for just a moment-- ahem yeah most forms of gentle intimate touch involving his face do the trick, hugs and simply Holding Him help too but the face is the ticket if you're valis abrudas close enough to him to be allowed to do so

quentius: leaning on him or letting him lean on you in turn, or bringing him a drink and listening to what's on his mind. he's switched to politics, but he's an old officer at heart. his wife also gets the special secret bonus comfort of sitting in his lap, lying on top of him, gentle caresses, assuring him she'll take care of everything and he doesn't have to worry. this is a bad thing in bad end.

[bobwess]

CW: 9/11

Let's preface this with: there are many people whose voices mean more about this. My story is a mild one, and just one of so many, and I'm not really sure why I'm writing it, but here I am.

CW: 9/11, death, suicide

I used to sit by the windows in the towers when I went to work with my Dad sometimes. There were a couple people who brought their kids every now and again during the summers. I used to think it was really cool that we were higher than all the helicopters that went by.

My dad was transferred out of there at the end of August 2001. He would have been there. Above the crash.

I was 9 years old when it happened. I was in my 4th grade classroom when it happened. It was the very beginning of the school day. We started class at 9am normally, and we were all sort of antsy because our teacher wasn't there. Which had never happened before. She came in maybe fifteen minutes late, crying. She told us something terrible happened but she wasn't allowed to say what.

Then she didn't teach us anything. We were told to read quietly for a little over an hour and then the vice principle came in and told us that we were going outside for extra recess. (Found out later it was after the South Tower fell but before the North.) The other classes didn't know anything was wrong, they were just excited for surprise recess. Our class was freaking out a bit because "something terrible happened", adults were crying, the teachers were all huddled together, and students were getting called to the office to go home left and right.

I was surprised they didn't send us home early for a while then, but later I figured out that we were too close. I think too many families knew someone and parents needed time to figure out what to do about it. Make arrangements for their kids to go somewhere while they handled things.

My parents both met me at the bus. My parents never came to the bus stop to get me, and my dad was supposed to be at work. They told me the twin towers were gone, and I made a joke about it (and I got yelled at.) I didn't know what "gone" meant yet.

Then my parents made me watch the news. For hours I watched footage of people dying, I watched news channels talk about how little we knew, and were there going to be more attacks? I listened to my dad talk about the people he knew, and try to figure out which of them were still alive. I didn't know many of them well. We heard about the initial emergency responders setting up base camp at the base of the towers, and then get killed for having done so.

I was young enough a lot of it went over my head, but sitting there for hours, watching the footage played over and over again, getting new angles when the news channels got them, seeing the people deciding to jump rather than burn. My friend's parents who were firefighters and EMTs up here going down to help fill the gaps left by losing so many of their responders at once.

It was chaos. No one felt safe. No one knew what to do. Not for months. Then it was all prep for war and freedom fries and other miscellaneous nonsense.

So many people I know lost someone. So many people I know saw it first hand. So many people I sort of knew died. At the time I didn't get it. It was too big, and it felt too fake, and I hadn't been to a funeral since I was 4. Death was a foreign concept to me then. Reserved for movies, which this felt like because it was on TV.

Over the next few months we were taught a lot about it. About how the country worked. About what this meant. The later stuff, the war stuff, obviously was a fair bit of misinformation. But there was something about learning about this tragedy first hand while it was happening and being sorted out as a kid. Really stuck with me.

I don't really have a point, I just wanted to talk about it I guess. I don't talk to Matt about this, he has his own worse story, so I don't really have anywhere else to just... talk. So. Thank you for listening.

(And for those of you like me who have anxiety about being taken the wrong way for "liking" a not-positive post, I know what you mean by liking it, don't worry.)

[paxesoterica]

Some Thoughts on Episode 15 (Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury)

(spoilers & very long)

*It’s time for another Suletta Sunday…minus Suletta. Suffering without Suletta Sunday? (please ignore the actual day). Jokes aside, Suletta’s not in this episode at all (aside from the OP and the ED), which I believe is the first time since the Prologue (since we now know she wasn’t present for that either).

*We open on planet Earth, specifically at the abandoned school/camp area where Norea, Sophie, and Naji made their first appearance. We’ve had hints about how dire things are for a number of Earthians, in particular from Sophie’s monologue during her final duel with Suletta about the things she wanted, but details like the poster below give us an explicit example.

*According to an article published by Harvard Medical School about calories, minimal daily caloric intake to avoid endangering your health is 1,200 calories for the average woman, and 1,500 calories for the average man, i.e. the food rations are just enough to keep most people alive and not starving. Given this, it makes sense that Sophie and Norea, both of whom are around Miorine’s height, would be receiving enough food to keep healthy (though not satiated) and thereby make them better Gundam pilots than the average adult male. This also seems to support my theory about the Elans, all of whom are taller than Suletta (herself about 5’7”) and would therefore need a higher caloric intake than Sophie or Norea, being Earthian-trained Gundam pilots (whether by Dawn of Fold or elsewhere) before signing up with Peil, not just to obviate the Gundams’ curse, but to at least ensure they’re well-fed before they die.

*Speaking of food, two kids, Sedo and Seethia, inform Olcott that the prisoner he took at Plant Quetta hasn’t eaten for three days, and is looking *rough*:

*Guel has apparently lost the will to live and is apathetic, but Olcott believes he still has value and force feeds him.

*This scene is kinda gross, and if forced feeding is an issue for you, I’d strongly recommend skipping the next few seconds to the opening credits.

*”Don’t think you can get out of this by dying.” I see Olcott is channeling the writers.

*Contrary to my expectations, the sections of the OP with Sophie are left unchanged (for now) to maximize suffering. However, one new face *has* been added to maximize suffering:

*Hi Eri. Looks like you’re having fun there (God this is so cursed). I can only imagine how poor Suletta will feel when she learns about this.

*While (almost assuredly artificially created) resource scarcity remains a concern for many, it is not the current priority of Naji, Olcott, or the other members of Dawn of Fold, for between the attacks on Plant Quetta and Asticassia, the Benerit security forces are hunting them, so they and the refugees harboring Dawn of Fold will need to flee.

*Back at Asticassia, Norea decides to torture Nika by repeatedly kicking her, blaming her for both Sophie’s death and the hardships Dawn of Fold will suffer due to the terrorist attacks that Norea and Sophie perpetrated. Nika protests that what Norea is doing is wrong, and that Spacians will never listen to the Earthians if they just keep killing people, and Norea responds with more violence that the Grassley girls do precious all to stop despite the fact that they have orders to keep Nika alive. As much as I like evil squads, I kinda wouldn’t mind if they and Norea went out of an airlock right about now.

*Norea refers to Sabina as a 'traitor.' Is Sabina an Earthian orphan sponsored by Grassley? For that matter, are all of Shaddiq's squad Earthian orphans? It would make a lot of sense with what we're about to learn about Shaddiq, and would explain their diehard loyalty to him and their cause.

*I’ve seen some discourse asking the question about whether Nika or Norea are right, and I feel that is an unnuanced way to approach this scene. Bear with me as I risk referencing real-world political history, but it is true that most successful resistance and protest movements have required at least the threat of violence to convince oppressors to negotiate with the people they’re oppressing, and if Nika is advocating a completely pacifistic approach to dealing with Spacians (and I can see how her words can be interpreted that way, though I think that ignores the greater context of her actions), then yes, she would be wrong. 

*However, we’ve also seen that Nika is fascinated with Aerial and its capabilities, that she was pleased when those Spacian bullies got punched out, had zero problems keeping Dawn of Fold’s activities secret until they *directly* endangered her and her (Earthian!) friends, and is best friends with (or possibly even dating?) Chuatury ‘Woke Up and Chose Violence’ Panlunch. Given that context, I would argue, barring possible future refutation from Nika herself, that she is aware of some need for violence to win Earthians their rights, but that she’s arguing against the rampages Sophie and Norea went on for seemingly no good reason (from Nika’s perspective; remember, she’s been kept in the dark about Shaddiq’s plans). There’s also the matter of the Earth Witches endangering her friends’ lives, so, Nika’s probably a bit upset about that too.

*Setting aside speculation at Nika’s position, there’s also nothing indicating that Norea has any interest in using violence to achieve peace; she’s been mostly either focused on carrying out the plans of a capitalist who wears the mask of a revolutionary (details about Shaddiq's plans will be covered below) or revenge. Those are certainly understandable motives considering the atrocities the Spacians have committed, but at the same time none of that is going to materially improve her fellow Earthians’ material conditions either, and will ultimately just result in a mountain of corpses, with Norea’s own at the summit.

*I *love* how this transition cut answers Norea’s question: it’s of course the man at the top who’s employing her, the one who doesn’t dirty his hands with blood when he has others to do it for him. I understand Norea’s pissed off at her friend’s death, but instead of accepting her, Sophie’s, or, most of all, Shaddiq’s role in it, or even retaliating against Suletta, she chose to run away and torture someone who wasn’t involved, either in Sophie’s death or Benerit’s retaliation, and can’t fight back. It’s an ugly example of a worker being pitted against another worker for her boss’s gain.

*Shaddiq and Sarius have a little chat, in which Shaddiq re-affirms that he’s not interested in becoming President of Grassley, or the Benerit group for that matter.

*This next part I had to watch a couple times, and even now I’m not 100% certain that my understanding is correct, but here’s what I got from the scene.

*According to Shaddiq, Benerit uses “war partitioning” as its main source of income, and that he wants to break this system. Sarius argues tries to argue that the system is too big to fail, and that doing so would exacerbate the existing conflicts on Earth to the breaking point, but Shaddiq anticipated this, and states his actual plan is different: He wants to sell the Benerit Group’s assets to Earth, and with Earth more equally armed, set up a cold war-style standoff between the planet and the corporations.

*At this point, we learn that Shaddiq is half-Earthian, and apparently sides more with that side of his heritage, and that he intends to seize power so that Spacians no longer have a monopoly on it.

*Since Shaddiq’s half-Earthian, I wonder if he’s indirectly related to Sarius (perhaps a nephew or the like?) and if that’s the reason the latter adopted him after Shaddiq’s parents died.

*”War partitioning” sounds a lot like political partitioning, which involves dividing an existing nation into smaller nations, typically for reasons like mitigating civil war or establishing spheres of influence for more powerful nations; some famous examples include Northern Ireland & Ireland (divided by the United Kingdom for its benefit), India & Pakistan (also divided by the United Kingdom for its benefit), North Korea & South Korea (divided by the United States and Soviet Union for their benefit), and East Germany & West Germany (also divided by the United States and Soviet Union for their benefit).

*Assuming I’m correct, then it sounds like Benerit is keeping Earthian nations divided from each by conflicts it instigates, with each conflict supplied by a particular company within the group (I would assume the top earners like Jeturk, Peil, and Grassley are also involved with the largest conflicts).

*Witch from Mercury has been well-written so far, so I’m going to assume that the holes in Shaddiq’s plan, such as his belief that the nations of Earth will all rationally unite against the Spacians after decades of internecine conflict, or his neglect in considering the ‘guns vs. butter’ argument, are due to him once more thinking he’s smarter than he actually is (as a reminder, Shaddiq is in the piloting department, not management strategy).

*For those not familiar with the guns vs. butter argument, it’s the observation that cost of domestic goods (such as butter) is much cheaper in comparison to the cost of military purchases, i.e. for the same price, you could either supply dozens of people with butter *or* build a single gun. Since the Benerit Group is an alliance of weapons manufacturers, selling their assets would supply the Earthians with plenty of military gear, but unless Shaddiq is planning to figuratively beat guns into plowshares, this would do little to help with the resource scarcity. Historically speaking, every nation that has chosen to over-invest in military spending at the expense of the domestic has inevitably fallen because of that choice (yes, I’m too aware of the real-world implications that has for, say, the United States, but that goes beyond the scope of this writing).

*I also think that Shaddiq is too entrenched in a capitalist mindset at this point to not use that as the basis for whatever new system he has in mind for Earth (despite the vocal solidarity he proclaims for Earthians, it’s Dawn of Fold and not Shaddiq that’s bearing the cost of his plans, and I don’t see that changing with him getting more power).

*Enough about Shaddiq.

*Benerit is sending out recon teams composed of mobile suits on gliders. Despite the publicity of the attack, they’re unwilling to rely on Dominicus and Cathedra, and both Kenanji Avery, and Delling right-hand, Rajan Zahi, express concerns about this.

*Before Rajan can elaborate on his thoughts, he has a visitor: Miorine!

*Miorine proves once again that she’s one of the smartest characters in the show by not trusting Prospera and asking Rajan for a second opinion on Quiet Zero.

*We then cut back to Dawn of Fold’s evacuation, and are given the names of some of their mobile suit pilots: Bessie, Jalil, and Phillip. Phillip, in particular, is concerned about his family, and this gives me a bad feeling about his life expectancy.

*The refugees’ kids apparently looked up to Sophie as a hero, and built a grave for her, decorated with her plushies. Such a small, somber scene. The way Witch from Mercury has been handling character death and their ongoing role in the narrative (so far anyway) reminds me a bit of Fullmetal Alchemist, and that’s a very good thing.

*Olcott thinks they don’t have time for this, but Naji argues that it’s necessary so that the kids can cope with the fear of death, and remarks that Olcott of all people should understand that. As Naji goes to organize the evacuation, Olcott and the other pilots opt to remain behind, to act as decoys so the refugees can escape.

*Later that night, Olcott espies Seethia and Sedo sneaking back into the school to see Guel. Seethia was armed with a knife and seems to have been intent on murdering Guel, blaming him for her dad not coming back from Plant Quetta, which results in Guel questioning why he’s alive and not his dad.

*Olcott frees Guel, and the kids’ mention of Jeturk being on the verge of bankruptcy finally gets a reaction out of Guel, as he begs them to tell him more.

*There’s been speculation that the Gundam Schwarzette (which has not yet appeared in show) will either be a rebuild of Guel’s Darilbalde or at least based on its design. This seems reasonable based on stylistic similarities, but it doesn’t really answer under what circumstances Jeturk would build a Gundam. Since they’re at risk of bankruptcy, I wonder if they’ll sell off assets (like engineers) to other companies (such as Shin Sei, or perhaps the mystery manufacturer of Lfrith Ur and Thorn), who will then use their new engineering team to construct Scwarzette, thus giving it a Jeturk-like appearance despite not being an actual Jeturk product.

*A Benerit recon team passes near Jalil’s look-out point, causing him to lose composure and start shooting at them, and thereby exposing his cover. He dodges missiles shot at him…only for them to hit the school where Guel, Olcott, Seethia, and Sedo currently are. At this point, the other Dawn of Fold pilots engage the enemy to lure them away from finding the evacuees.

*Olcott has a flashback of his son trapped under burning debris, before fully regaining consciousness. Sedo seems fine, but Seethia was trapped under some rubble, and Olcott deems her injuries too grievous for her to live much longer; he leaves her to join the fray, but not before his fellow pilots suffer their first casualty, Jalil.

*There’s something unsettling about having mobile suits *not* blow up at the end of a lethal fight, and I think it’s the difference between seeing a pile of ashes while knowing some of that ash used to human versus walking up to a coffin with a body inside and opening it.

*Guel’s desire to live has been renewed, and he’s not giving up on Seethia either, carrying her while trying to locate the nearest transport vehicle. She questions why he would do this, but even he doesn’t know.

*The fight does not go well for Dawn of Fold, as one by one all the pilots are killed until only Olcott remains.

*This loss, however, does allow Guel to find one of the fallen mobile suits, and hijack it.

*”Ridrick Kruger…he’s still alive?” Kenanji provides a bit of backstory on Olcott (as well a criminal record): he was a Dominicus pilot with “his own sense of justice” who defected to the Eartians’ side.

*Just as it looks like Olcott’s about to make his final stand, Guel launches into the sky, distracting the remaining Benerit pilots and giving Olcott the advantage he needs to kill them. Unfortunately, it’s too late for Seethia; she dies from her wounds just as Olcott predicted.

*I’ve seen some folks talking about Guel ‘taking another L’ here, but I think that’s a fundamental misunderstanding of the situation. Seethia’s death was a tragedy, yes, but thanks to Guel, she didn’t have to die alone in an abandoned ruin, but instead in the company of a stranger who cared enough to try to save her, and sometimes that’s simply the best comfort you can offer another person. She will also be remembered, as Guel digs a grave for her right next to Sophie’s.

*In addition, Guel’s action helped save all the refugees’ lives, allowing them the opportunity to strive for a better tomorrow, despite everything. This is easily the most heroic thing Guel’s done, and as bittersweet as Suletta's motto has become, he really moved forward and gained two this episode.

*Despite stating he’s not Guel’s father, Olcott gives Guel some excellent parental advice when he tells him to think for himself about what he should do next; Guel decides to seek out an orbital Permet lift, to return and try to save his family.

*After the end credits, we finally get back to Miorine and Rajan.

*Rajan discusses how Notrette was a botanical engineer who “thought that the various survival strategies used by plants could also be applied to humanity,” and *that* has all sorts of interesting implications; in particular, tomatoes have especially keen senses and can process information, or data if you prefer, *without* the need for a nervous system (y’know, like one humans have that could get overloaded if required to handle too much data, with potentially dangerous consequences to said human), and also possess extra genes, allowing them to adapt to a variety of extreme conditions (perhaps, if pushed enough, even non-Earth planets?).

*The biopunk possibilities are *delightful*.

*In any event, we learn from Rajan that Delling supported Notrette’s vision, and that contrary to Miorine’s understanding, it was not a marriage of convenience, due to Delling’s life as a soldier.

*The chaos of the battlefield profoundly shaped who Delling became. It seems that his (and Rajan’s) experience with soldiers being used as expendable parts was what led to his attempted destruction of Gundams, and when the war partitioning of Benerit failed to bring order to people, Delling turned to Notrette’s Quiet Zero project.

*Miorine confirms a theory that I’ve held that the point of the dueling systems was to provide a powerful spouse who could protect Miorine, and to distract the other corporations from Quiet Zero.

*Rajan joins Olcott in providing good parental advice and reminds Miorine that she is not her father, and that as her own person she should make a decision that is right for her.

*Before we conclude: I’ve heard a few folks, not a majority, but a vocal few nonetheless, claim that this episode is proof that Guel is secretly the ‘real’ protagonist of Witch from Mercury, or should be, and in doing some research on the past series, I can see why they’re making that point even if they are fundamentally wrong about it.

*A sheltered teenage boy, being thrust into the abomination of war, stealing a mobile suit, and surviving the conflict while resolving to protect those precious to him is, in fact, a synopsis of the first episode of several older Gundam series, including the very first one. On the basis of that perspective alone, Guel would indeed seem to be main character material.

*That perspective is flawed, however, for The Witch from Mercury is not those shows, and this is not the first episode but the fifteenth, and such a view ignores everything that came before.

*That perspective is further flawed because it fails to understand the extent to which Witch from Mercury draws on the narrative bones and underlying philosophy of Revolutionary Girl Utena, in this particular, the Black Rose arc from that show.

*For those not familiar, the Black Rose arc is notable for giving limelight episodes to what were previously ‘merely’ supporting characters in Revolutionary Girl Utena’s first arc, in particular showing a one-off with a boy, who, conceivably, *could* have been the protagonist *if* this was a different shoujo anime. And with this episode, it’s clicked for me that Witch from Mercury seems to be taking some of the techniques that Revolutionary Girl Utena used to examine and interrogate the then-common tropes of shoujo anime, and applying those to the tropes of the Gundam series instead.

*Looking back to earlier episodes, it was frequently asked if Aerial was a Gundam or not. There was a narrative reason for this to be certain, but there’s also a meta level to the question: is this a Gundam show or not? That may seem like a silly question, but I have seen folks who point-blank claim that, while they enjoy it, it’s not a ‘real’ Gundam show.

*Witch from Mercury seems to be asking, among other things, what makes Gundam Gundam? What if the protagonist is a girl? What if the series’ tradition of subtextual queerness was textual? What if the friendly but troubled character under a malevolent influence who would normally be the rival is the protagonist? What if a side character had an origin normally assigned to the main character? It has militarized children, the horrors of war, and trauma, isn’t that Gundam?

*Looking at it from a meta lens, while Witch from Mercury is beginner friendly, it’s also an absolutely wild way to learn about Gundam in general, and I continue to be thoroughly intrigued.

*This was another heavy episode, perhaps the next one will be a little lighter…Oh, it’s title is “Cycle of Sin”...and it was read by Prospera…Whelp.

*Thanks for reading, and I hope y’all enjoy the next Suffering (hopefully with more Suletta) Sunday!

[seriouslysam8]

Why do you not like Hermione? (No hate, just curious)

So, I was a kid when the books came out. I remember waiting in line for the books, completely obsessed. Hermione used to be one of my favorite characters. Smart, loyal, and basically stopped Harry and Ron from dying every year. 

As an adult and reading the books with my kids, I realized just how fucking toxic Hermione is and how I would never be friends with her in real life. 

She thinks she is the most clever, smartest person known to wizardkind. She is often condescending towards Harry and Ron. She is completely dismissive of Harry during OOTP and HBP from Harry’s trauma, to seeing his godfather (the only fucking family he has) being tortured to death when every other single dream he has had has come true, to Harry’s curiosity about the half-blood prince. Let’s face it, the last one she was just mad and jealous she wasn’t the first in class anymore. She didn’t give two shits about Ron’s pet rat and her cat attacking it (even though Crookshanks is a hero for hunting that rat, he didn’t know that at the time and she was completely dismissive towards him and his pet.)

Let’s talk about Hermione’s less than ethical problems too which is abusive and manipulative. She scars Marietta (never telling anyone she jinxed the parchment) and she locks Rita Skeeter in a jar, completely isolating her which could drive anyone fucking mad. Hermione attacks Ron with birds because he kissed Lavender out of jealousy. SHE FUCKING ATTACKED HIM. Like... okay. Harry was jealous over Dean but never attacked the guy.

There are a million other reasons, but I don't want to go on a rant since I'd like to get some writing done today.

Also, this was a question asked to me. I don't need anyone commenting or sending me asks telling me why I'm wrong. It's my opinion and I am allowed to have my own opinion and don't need anyone telling me I'm wrong or trying to convince me otherwise. This is my opinion and I dislike Hermione. Get over it. I will not respond and will delete any asks about this topic because I am not arguing with anyone over it. Everyone is allowed to have their own opinions. This last paragraph is in no way directed at you curse-04. I don't mind the question, but I have had people in the past bombard me with reasons why I'm wrong or my opinion is wrong and I don't feel like dealing with it today. I want to listen to Midnights and write.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

I posted 22,410 times in 2022

That's 10,302 more posts than 2021!

339 posts created (2%)

22,071 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mariposasmonarch

@figurative-critter

@artimies6

@rosslynpaladin

@itsallwearecalledtodo

I tagged 1,258 of my posts in 2022

#farewell technoblade - 59 posts

#unreality - 51 posts

#save for later - 50 posts

#tw death - 48 posts

#technoblade - 40 posts

#poetry - 24 posts

#battycore - 9 posts

#minecraft - 7 posts

#hey - 7 posts

#autism - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#”hey here’s this polar substance that has distinct positive and negative regions because the electron pairs in oxygen bend the molecule”

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

how much of kids being badly behaved is them being ND?

It’s more than you think.

There’s a little boy named Liam (not his real name) at my daycare. Liam has ADHD and autism; so do I. Here’s behaviors he’s gotten in trouble for before:

- Not washing his hands in the bathroom with the other boys for lunch/snack

- Laying on the floor and not responding/listening when told to do something

- Laying on the floor in areas that block traffic, like hallways

- Yelling at other students to shut up

- Not looking teachers in the eyes when he’s in trouble

- Not sitting still during waiting periods/on the bus/ during timeout

- Not transitioning between tasks or events; I. E. Continuing to play at the craft table when we’re lining up to go to the gym

I don’t have these issues with Liam, simply because I understand where his behavior comes from, and I can head it off before it happens.

- The hand dryers in the main bathroom are really loud; Liam is allowed to use the small staff bathroom to wash his hands instead.

- I bring noise-cancelling headphones and stim toys to work; when Liam’s showing signs of a shutdown or being overwhelmed by noise, I just place both near him to use if he needs.

- Liam gets extra reminders about switching tasks, and I give him specific directions rather than vague ones. Instead of “get ready to go to the gym”, it’s “please pick up all the craft supplies you used and put them away. Grab your water bottle afterwards, then go line up at that door.”

- Liam is allowed to ask to use my stim toys at any time, and i being at least one to field trips/outside/the gym, so he can use them when he needs.

That’s it. That’s all it takes. If I need to, I’ll take his hand and help him up when he’s flopped on the floor, and find him somewhere to lay down that’s not in the middle of foot traffic. Haven’t had any issues with him not listening. He went from “bad kid” to “easy kid” like *that*.

And it makes me wonder. How many of the “bad kids” just have a need that isn’t being met? How many kids could cope so much better in their environment if the adults in their life worked with them, instead of being antagonistic and assuming they’re acting maliciously? How many kids are struggling simply because the people in their life don’t know what’s wrong, or how to help?

And then my heart hurts a little bit.

184 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

#4

Quick fun fact I learned in ASL class:

Babies can begin signing as early as a few months old. You don’t have to wait until they’re 9-12 months to start communicating verbally; the parts of the brain that process and use language develop before a baby is able to speak intelligibly with their mouth. Teaching your kid sign language early means that they can communicate effectively months ahead of schedule, when compared to peers that only speak a spoken language.

Additional fun fact: this jumpstart in language is thought to be a possible way to avoid the “Terrible Twos”; that phase of a toddler’s life is thought to be largely due to a toddler being unable to effectively communicate their needs. If a two year old has already been speaking for a year and a half, they’re far more able to communicate to you what’s wrong. Heck, they might also start reading earlier; languages with a fingerspelling component, like ASL, mean that any speaker needs to be able to spell unfamiliar words and ask about them. This can jumpstart a toddler’s ability to recognize letters as components of a word, and teach them to spell, read, and eventually write these letters to communicate.

Which, of course, lends absolutely zero credence to the theory that ASL will inherently stunt someone’s spoken language skills. If anything, sign language fluency makes acquiring any language, spoken or not, easier rather than harder.

812 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

#3

“Why do you get meltdowns over X? Why do you need to stim?”

Think back to a time when you really had to use the bathroom. Maybe you were on an airplane; aisles are small, bathrooms are all the way in the back, and you’re in a window seat. Maybe you were at work; boss breathing down your neck with no time to take a break. Maybe you just forgot until it was really bad; you were reading the best book you’ve ever read, and in the hours it took you to finish those chapters, you didn’t tend to your bladder.

How did you feel, in that time between you noticing the need to pee and you getting to the bathroom?

Sucks, right? You’re constantly thinking about the bathroom. Sure, you can kinda hold it, but you really can’t hold it that long, because your kidneys don’t exactly have off buttons. The pressure is building. You might even be in pain. The physical stress is constant, intrusive, and unable to be dispelled until you take care of that need.

Telling someone to stop stimming (and then being surprised when they have a meltdown) is like telling someone to “just hold it, it’s not that hard” when they’re dying to use the bathroom. If you desperately had to go and someone informed you that you couldn’t, because using the bathroom would be impolite or look strange, you would not last very long. Either you’d break and yell/cry/scream/run until that need gets met, or your body would meet it for you, and you’d have to face the consequences of that.

Stimming is a need. Autistic people stim to self regulate, to express emotion, and to expend excess energy. It is a coping skill, it is healthy, and it is not something you can just stop needing. “Stop stimming.” “Just hold it.”

And when your needs aren’t met, sometimes your body will meet them for you, and you need to face the consequences of that. Meltdowns are not just tantrums or being misbehaved. Meltdowns are an autistic person’s last resort when they cannot regulate the stress that’s been stacking up. That stress isn’t just from academics or work; for someone with sensory issues, unpleasant sensory input is a stressor. For someone who finds social activities draining, social interaction is a stressor. For someone who relies on routine, an interruption is a stressor. This is not always a controllable thing; stressors happen when your needs are not met. Stress stacks up, the necessary coping mechanisms are stymied, and the body cracks under the strain because there is nothing else to do.

So next time you see someone frown and hum when they wash dishes, or flap their hands when they’re excited, or express “Sorry, I can’t eat that food” in a singsong tone, check yourself before you start making comments. Don’t be the person that says “Just hold it. It’s not that hard.” It is that hard.

This also goes for ADHD ppl btw. Don’t come at me w the whole “oh but if u fidget that means ur not paying attention” that’s not how ADHD works. Let the person stim. It’s a need (a distinct need, but still a need).

891 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

#2

An incomplete guide to how to talk to young children (3-5 years old):

- Do not assume they understand your instructions the first time. They will ask you the same question three times. Answer it the same way, patiently. They will get it eventually.

- Children will ask strings of “why” questions. They’re not trying to be annoying; they don’t have a lot of the context older people have. Answer until you can’t, then admit you don’t know and ask them a question back. They’ll get distracted for the moment, and trust that you take their questions seriously.

- If you need a kid to do something, give a reason, but don’t give up at “I don’t want to”. If they don’t listen, it’s okay to say “I explained why, and I still need you to do it.” Be calm, and firm. Usually, kids will listen the second or third time.

- If a kid doesn’t listen to an instruction repeatedly, there’s probably something in the way. Ask them why they’re not *without accusing them*, and they’ll tell you what’s going on most of the time. Common reasons: I’m scared, I don’t know how, I miss my parent/sibling, I’m tired, I’m angry/frustrated/sad, I need help. Address the roadblock and help find a compromise that works for the both of you.

- Threats are only as good as you can enforce them. If you threaten them with a countdown, you need a consequence to back it up that is appropriate to the request. For example: “I need you to stay in your chair. I’m going to count to five. If I get to five, and you’re not sitting in your seat with your feet on the floor, I am writing down that you were not listening during snack time on your behavior report.” Keep in mind that these threats only work if the consequence is at the right level; too harsh, and they’ll get overwhelmed and shut down, but too light, and they won’t see it as a consequence. A kid who doesn’t care what their behavior report says won’t worry about a bad report as a consequence.

- Never scream at a child. Never hit them. Never continuously escalate consequences until they do what you say. These behaviors cause a child to panic, and their fear response will prevent them from doing what you want them to, as well as make them more distrusting of you in the future. It’s not just cruel, it is actively counterintuitive to correcting their behavior.

- Make a point to notice and compliment/reward good behavior, especially with kids you are biased to view as “rude” or “badly behaved”. Kids take the views of adults seriously, and if they feel as though they can’t redeem themselves in your eyes, they won’t waste energy trying. Complimenting good behavior when you see it will encourage them to repeat good behaviors to earn your praise. In addition, if there’s other children nearby, they will also mimic the complimented behavior to earn the same praise. Give it.

- Kids want to feel heard. If they want to show or tell you “something cool”, and you have a few moments, watch/listen and compliment them *regardless of if you get it or not*. If you don’t have time, say “That sounds really cool! Can you tell me after we do [insert thing]?” This tells them that you care while still making sure they do what they need to.

- Kids can be downright frustrating sometimes, especially when they need to do something and they just *won’t*. Recognize when you’re getting angry, and learn to stop talking before you direct that anger at them. Take some deep breaths, remind yourself that this too shall pass, and try a different approach.

- Always understand why you’re asking a child to do something. Not only does this help you tell them why they need to, it helps you find replacement behaviors if they can’t/won’t do it. For example: “I need you to lay down and try to sleep, because your friends are sleeping and what you’re doing right now is waking them up. If you can’t sleep after trying for a while, we can work together to find you a quiet activity that you can do at your cot.”

- Don’t expect from a child what you wouldn’t expect from yourself. Could you stand laying still and staring at the ceiling for an hour when you’re not tired? No? Don’t ask a kid to do it. Could you stand staying out in the cold for an hour without a jacket? No? Don’t ask a kid to do it. Could you stand someone yelling at you without feeling angry? No? Don’t ask a kid to do it. Even if you think you could do it, consider if you could do it with the same limitations this child has. Could you do it without the emotional regulation and impulse control you’ve developed as an adult? Could you do it without the inference skills you’ve learned after years of social interactions? Could you do it when you felt angry, tired, overwhelmed, hungry, thirsty, desperately needing to pee with no bathroom nearby? If not, don’t ask a child to do it.

- Don’t react to potty words, insults, or offensive language. Don’t laugh, and don’t act upset. Use the same tone you would if someone said something innocuous, and correct them in that tone. “We don’t say that; that’s a hurtful thing to say to someone.” Or “That’s not funny. Let’s talk about something else.”

- Kids don’t (and should not) have a sense of sexual innuendo or puberty. A four year old doesn’t understand that reaching up to hug you and touching your breasts in the process is gross. A five year old doesn’t understand that “why aren’t you a mommy?” or “why does your face have red dots on it” are weird questions to ask random people. Enforce boundaries without delving into details. “Don’t touch me there; that makes me uncomfortable” and “That’s just how it works sometimes” can be used to great effect. Importantly, don’t act angry or use a tone that indicates they did something wrong; this will seem to them like you’re arbitrarily angry.

- Kids at this age don’t have a strong sense of cognitive empathy or predicting the future. The idea that actions have consequences beyond the immediate result is a very, very new concept to them. Be prepared to explain the obvious of “why can’t I bite her when she makes me mad?”, “why can’t I steal his toy when he stole mine?”, and “why do I have to do what you tell me when I don’t want to?”

- Give explicit instructions. “Stop that” isn’t likely to be understood by a four year old. “Stop throwing the toys; please put them in the bucket gently” is far easier for a kid to follow.

14,263 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Lemme tell u guys a story

In my freshman year, my great grandma passed away. She never threw out or sold anything worth keeping if she could help it, having grown up in the Depression, so when she passed, my grandma suddenly inherited a lifetime’s worth of treasured items. She distributed most of them to her kids and grandkids, saved some sentimental items, and donated most of the clothing and trinkets to charity. I got back the stuffed leopard I’d given great-grandma in the hospital; the fur was still as soft as it’d been when I bought it. One of the biggest things she had to sort through was jewelry. For a year after my great-grandma died, my grandma was setting out organized rows of costume jewelry on basement tables and chivvying her granddaughters to take what they wanted.

And then, after all the choosing, she snuck me into her room while my cousins picked through wristwatches. On her bed were two small jewelry boxes: an old wooden one, and a cushioned one in white pleather.

“I brought you in here because if I gave these to your cousins, they’d sell it. I don’t want these sold. Do you understand?”

I understood.

This is the story of the biggest lie my grandma ever told her mom.

Great-grandma’s birthstone was garnet, and she loved the look of the stones, but could never justify paying for some. Her husband worked constantly, and so did she, and new clothes for the kids was more important than jewelry at the time. When my grandma was 16, she saved her first paychecks to buy her mom a garnet ring for Mother’s Day; that’s what was in the wooden box. The original receipt, handwritten, was crammed into the lid. Great-grandpa saw that ring and teared up; he’d always wanted to get his wife something nice like that, but hadn’t ever had enough money for it. Determined, he vowed to change that. He set aside money for years, slowly, hiding it away in a box in the attic, vowing to buy his wife something she could always wear with her ring.

Time passed, and inflation happened, and he slowly squirreled money away in the hopes that jewelry might get cheaper again sometime. Time passed again, and age had little mercy on him. He got older, typed up a note, and placed in in the box, describing what the money was for; he knew his time was near. Under no circumstances was the money to be spent on anything other than giving his wife a nice gift. The letter read, “One day, my dear Ruth, you’ll have garnet earrings to match that ring.” It’s what great-grandma had always mourned missing; she had such a nice ring, and no good earrings to go with it.

Well, men don’t live forever, and when great-grandpa passed away, my grandma cleaned out her mom’s attic as she prepared to move somewhere smaller. Going through boxes of polaroids and paper clips, she stumbled on the box of earrings money, note and all. She stashed it with her coat, and after that day of cleaning, went to the jeweler before her mom could try and spend the money on something too sensible. She came back with the white pleather box; sure enough, still nestled inside that box were two clip-on garnet earrings.

”Mom never got her ears pierced, you know. That’s why it took so long to find a good pair.”

Once she’d gotten the earrings, grandma presented them to her mom, along with the note. The paper was obviously old and warped by moisture, but it was legible. My great grandma cried happy tears and treasured those earrings more than any other jewelry; the last gift her husband could give her. Decades after the fact, I’d seen her wear them to Christmas parties and worry over them, checking that they stayed on her earlobes.

There was never any note from great-grandpa. Never any box. Never any earring money. My great-grandpa had spent his saved money keeping himself and his wife confortable throughout retirement. To set aside hundreds of dollars, even a bit at a time, for garnet earrings, was never a thought that crossed his mind. My grandma had seen her mom, exhausted, wracked with grief, and lied through her teeth about where she’d gotten the money for those earrings. She faked the note and everything, making sure her mom wouldn’t wonder where the money came from, and never winced at the pinch in her own pockets. And she never told a soul, not even my mom, until great-grandma was safely and thoroughly buried herself.

52,019 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

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