#gender-flip quirk accident

[pinkykats-place]

Transformation Quirk Accident BakuDeku Fics

archive of our own recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

Some contain mature content … read tags.

Art not mine - credit to noctoyuki.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Sneku by cinnabee

Summary: Izuku gets turned into a snake. Katsuki finds him. That's it, that's the whole story.

Complete | 10 Chapters | SFW

Dog Days at UA by EriCheri

Summary: Bakugo Katsuki wanted to spend a nice weekend relaxing, but his plans were interrupted when his childhood friend was struck with an...interesting quirk: In all ways but physical, Midoriya Izuku becomes a dog. With a quirk as powerful as One for All, this creates all sorts of problems. Luckily, the only one he listens to is Katsuki himself, making his weekend anything BUT relaxing.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Kingdom Animalia by red_emerald

Summary: “Good evening, this is MHA News, channel six. Breaking news! A villain terrorized downtown this afternoon, turning our community into a real zoo. Hundreds of pedestrians downtown were struck by her quirk, which transforms a human being into an animal. Thanks to our local Heroes, the villain has been apprehended, and only minor injuries have been reported. Victims are clear to return home until the effects wear off.

And now, for the weather.”

---

In which Izuku is transformed into a rabbit, and in the process gets to know his classmates a little better.

One Shot | Slightly BakuDeku

Rated - General Audiences

Hop Hop, Bunny by Sol_Morales707

Summary: Izuku Midoriya was reported missing during survival training in the woods. The news brews an uneasy feeling in Katsuki Bakugou, who harbors atypical feelings for him despite his attitude towards him, and he goes out of his way to search for him. Instead, he finds a little bunny and decides to take him under his wing.

“You remind me of someone. He’s an idiot just like you and you’re gonna help me find him.”

One Shot | UA Students

Rated - General Audiences

Lucky Lecher Time! by PTchan

Summary: In which Midoriya Izuku is hit with two of the most troublesome quirks, is traumatized several times over, and a whole lot of trouble ensues.

Or: 1 Genderflip Quirk + 1 Pervert Quirk = A whole world of disaster for the Students at Yuuei Class A

One Shot | DekuBowl

Rated - Teen & Up

Rabbits are not just cute and fluffy by serafinapekkala

Summary: A quirk accident gives Izuku some rabbit's traits... the thing is, nobody told class 1-A that rabbits can be quite possessive, temperamental and territorial. Izuku's only way to hide his feelings for Kacchan is simply, hide from Kacchan.

Complete | 3 Chapters

Rated - Teen & Up

red, green (all that lies between) by insane_falcon

Summary: --BREAKING NEWS--

Pro Hero Deku has been missing for over a week now. Inside sources have said that no leads have turned up yet. Is this the tragic end of a young man's promising career? Why has Pro Hero Ground Zero been uncharacteristically quiet on this matter, in the midst of other Pro Heros' public declarations of support? Tune in for more, tonight at 9 pm!

One Shot | Pro Hero au

Rated - Teen & Up

Katsuki Is Hot Regardless of Gender and It's Not Fair by simplybkg

Summary: Bakugou saves a pregnant woman and has to deal with the after-effects. Deku sees an opportunity.

Complete | 2 Chapters

Rated - Mature

The wolf and his mate by silverynight

Summary: "Yeah, I got hit by a quirk... So SHUT UP!" Katsuki huffs, grumpily stomping all the way towards his desk.

Even though Katsuki is more friendly towards Izuku now, he's not going to risk getting hit on the face with an explosion by making a comment on Katsuki's appearance, no matter how cute Izuku thinks he looks.

Instead he decides to greet him like usual, like nothing has happened.

"Good morning, Kacchan!"

Katsuki stops next to Izuku's desk before approaching his, for a moment the green haired boy thinks he's going to grunt a reluctant "morning" like he usually does, but then he notices that Katsuki's tail is wagging like crazy.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

In Which Kacchan Has a Ruff Time by OneshotPrincess

Summary: Fuck it, Katsuki reasons. He’s had the world’s shittiest day; a fight with a villain, getting quirked into a dog by yet another villain, escaping, blacking out, getting picked up by his biggest childhood regret who’s now making him overthink everything.

He deserves a break.

— — —

Or, Bakugou Katsuki gets quirked into a dog, gets adopted by an unknowing Izuku and generally has a very rough few days full of realizations

Complete | 2 Chapters

Pro Hero Baku x Quirkless Deku

Rated - Teen & Up

wolf katsuki? nah, more like puppy katsuki. by castlecoffins

Summary: bakugou gets hit by a quirk that turns him into a wolf hybrid. midoriya finds it adorable. um they have sex somehow i dunno how it escalated to that LMAO.

..

The first thing he notices is his ears. That are NOT human. They’re fucking wolf ears. He has a fluffy tail too. And long nails. And fangs. Bakugou is fucking seething and angry but it’s weirdly cute.

“Pfffft—“ Midoriya starts chuckling.

“SHUT UP! I got hit by a quirk and it’s not going to go away for days!” Bakugou growls. Midoriya still cannot contain his amusement.

{One Shot}

Rated - Mature

Dogs Days by keyhimura

Summary: A day in the amusement park ends with Katsuki being hit by a quirk that turns his life upside down, starting a slow transformation process that grants him wolf characteristics and a soft heart.

{One Shot}

Rated - Mature

Another word for desperation

Summary: This is something he still hasn’t grown out of, even now that they’re on tentative speaking, friendship-adjacent terms again: he wants Katsuki’s attention, all of the time.

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

Midoriya Izuku: The Problem Child by justateenyproblem

Summary: “This has got to be the dumbest thing to happen,” Katsuki groaned, face contorting into a mixture of amusement and frustration. This is what the shitty nerd gets for being too damn friendly all the time.

“It is rather unfortunate for Midoriya to be going through this but in comparison to many other quirks, this could be a lot worse,” Recovery Girl tutted as she led them to the classroom next door. Aizawa sensei groaned as they all came to the wooden door. Though the bags under his eyes hadn’t gotten worse, he was covered in a mass amount of fur. Abnormally so. Katsuki was fairly certain that his teacher had a cat or two but this was just ridiculous. Not to mention that the hair was fucking green.

One Shot | UA Students

Rated - Teen & Up

unstoppable forces by darkwingsandmages

Summary: There's a fine line between genius and insanity. And right now, All Might is using that line as a goddamn jump rope.

or, Izuku needs to rest while on the run from All for One, and Search only works on humans...

or,

Operation: Catzuku

Complete | 6 Chapters

Rated - Teen & Up

I Will Never Leave You A Stray by Banana_noir

Summary: blurb: Katsuki had thought that he was already in shock, but what came right after really fucked him up.

Izuku casually flipped him over on his back and...checked his genitals.

Katsuki let out a shriek of horror as he tried to flip himself over, waving his paws around in distress. Today was proving to be one of the most horrifying days in Katsuki's life and he could just feel his mental health deteriorating by the second. Deku had just checked to see if he had a dick. Oh, god why the fuck did it have to be Katsuki who suffered?

— — —

Katsuki Bakugo finds himself struck with a quirk, which turns him into a kitten. Who can he reach out to for help? Why, it's no other than the green-eyed neighbor who lives two floors down from Katsuki of course.

Meow away to reveal your identity, Bakugo!

Complete | 19 Chapters | Pro Hero au

Rated - Explicit

Got Milk? by Sol_Morales707

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki had returned one lengthy day of tiring hero work dripping in sweat and completely red. He seemed ill. To Izuku Midoriya's eyes, that is. The truth was unlikely and Bakugou pays him a visit because he knew the nerd would figure it out.

He got a lot more than what he asked.

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

Bunny Izuku by GenesisPhoenixDragon

Summary: Izuku was hit with a quirk at the end of the war. He has hard time accepting the outcome but his best Rival is there to help.

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

#bakudeku #quirk accident #ao3 fic recs #transformation quirk #animal quirk #ao3 bkdk #bakudeku quirk accident #bakudeku recommendations #ao3 fic rec #bakugou x midoriya #deku turns into a snake #deku turns into a dog #dog midoriya #quirk incident #soulmate quirk #bunny deku #midoriya turns into an animal #gender-flip quirk accident #female deku #clingy quirk #Bakugou hit by a quirk #midoriya hit by quirk #bakugo x midoriya ua students #pro hero bakudeku #UA bakudeku #ao3 bkdk recs #genderbend #bakudeku fic rec #bakudeku fic recs

[sicparvismorrigan]

Big Fun

Sam helps you feel better after you lose your temper.

Uncharted/Sam Drake/Post-U4

Viewpoint: 1st person gender-neutral reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: ~2.6k [complete]

Okay, outing myself a little here in the hopes that it’ll be a comfort to at least one other person. This happens…more often than I would like. I’m working on it.

This came about because of a discussion with @writingawaymylife thanks Aerin!

Read on Ao3

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you shitting me!”

You finally lose what little patience you had left and punch the wall. Underneath the cheap wallpaper it’s solid concrete and you instantly regret your feral outburst. There’s a millisecond of nothing before the pain comes rushing in, and then you’re bent double, clutching the wrist of your injured hand with the other and groaning.

You try and flex your fingers to check if they’re broken, but you can’t really tell. It’s too late. Your hand is numb within the minute. Shit, that��s really going to hurt in the morning.

You’re clumsy anyway, it’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will be. You know what you need to do, how you need to move, but your body won’t respond how you want it to. You’re always dropping plates and glasses, smashing them to bits. Usually when you’re already running late, and then you have to waste more time by scurrying around looking for a dustpan to get rid of the evidence.

You’re forever bumping into things, stubbing your toes and taking layers of skin off your shoulders and shins when you walk straight into doorframes. When you try and pour things you spill them more often than not. Yet more mess to clean up, yet more time wasted.

Your fingers just won’t work sometimes, often so badly it takes you multiple attempts to tie your shoes. And when it’s cold you’re practically useless. You just give up and tuck the laces into the shoes, feeling them rub through your socks, promising yourself to fix them once you’re back in the warm, everything will work out as long as you don’t trip over your own feet before you get there.

It’s the most frustrating thing in the world. Normally you can shrug it off, you’re used to it by now. But things had been going wrong all day, even without your clumsiness, and matters just came to a head.

You remember exactly what caused you to erupt into expletives and punch the wall. It had already been a frustrating day, work was a pain in the ass, as usual. All of the most awkward customers in the world had decided to descend upon you right before your break. By the time you got home you were in a pretty foul mood. Too wound up to relax, you decided to take a load of laundry downstairs to put in the washer.

You attempted to, anyway. After trying and failing 3 times to pick up the same damn sock from the floor of your room that your fingers just would not grasp, you’d given up and kicked it away under the bed in anger. Oh sure, couldn’t pick it up but you managed to land a furious kick the first time around.

Though you were trying your best to manoeuvre around the doorframe with the pile of clothes you still bumped off it with your shoulder, muttering ouch as the latch scraped your arm. Then you overcompensated by moving too much in the other direction and stubbed your toe on the corner of the door. Instant pain that made you see red.

The pile of clothes in your arms were promptly thrown on the floor in a fit of rage. That was when you punched the wall. And now you’re a sorry state, fingers throbbing and face red, trying not to scream.

Oh shit, you hear Sam moving around in his room down the hall. There’s no way he didn’t hear you. Well, this is embarrassing. There isn’t time to pick everything up and hightail it down the stairs before he catches you, not with your mangled claw out of action.

You hear his door creak open. You slowly turn around and stare guiltily at your roommate as he pokes his head around the doorframe.

“I heard…” He takes in the sight of the pile of laundry scattered on the floor and you holding up your tingling hand, still hopping from foot to foot. “Jeez, again?”

***

Sam is your friend Elena’s brother-in-law, or something like that. You aren’t clear on how exactly they’re related, but you knew her from college, long before she got married. She heard you were looking for a new roommate a few months back, and she got in touch, telling you she knew just the person.

You baulked initially when you got a phone call from her after sparse contact over the last few years. You were actually enjoying living by yourself again, though money was a bit tighter. Your last roommate was pleasant enough at first, however they soon turned out to be a nightmare, it was a relief to get rid of them. But you liked Elena a lot, and you did owe her one or two favours. For some reason she thought you and Sam would hit it off.

And much to your surprise, you did. You were a bit nervous of him to begin with, but Sam turned out to be so laid back he was almost horizontal. The perfect foil to your occasionally manic energy. Living with him was easy, there weren’t any awkward silences. If you were in the same room but didn’t feel like talking, he was fine with it.

Your apartment was pretty basic but he seemed happy there with you. He even made you dinner sometimes when you’d had a tough day and you’d just come in and flop face down on the sofa. Sam would wordlessly stand up and then half an hour later come back through to get you with the same phrase every time. “You gonna eat something, or what?”

Elena had reassured you he probably wouldn’t even be there a lot of the time. He just needed somewhere to touch base every few weeks, she turned out to be correct.

You didn’t even really know what Sam did. He didn’t appear to have a job, he was almost always home during the day and seemed to spend a lot of time on your Playstation (“our Playstation” according to Sam). But he came up with his half of the rent every month and then disappeared again for a few weeks. You didn’t ask, not your business. You’d started to find the house too quiet and empty when he wasn’t there and you were always waiting to hear the keys in the lock and his joking “Honey, I’m home!” whenever he came back.

After moving in it didn’t take him long to pick up on your quirks, or notice that you were more accident-prone than the average person. It had led to the only argument you’d ever had with him.

One time while making dinner you’d dropped a plate and cursed yourself as it cracked in half on the tiled floor. You’d stared daggers at him, daring him to say a word about it. You totally weren’t expecting what he did next.

He’d just looked at you dead in the eyes as he pushed another plate off the counter. Exactly like a cat would.

You blew up at him. “What in the hell did you do that for? Now there’s twice as many sharp bits to clear up!”

“It’s just a plate.” He had shrugged, leaning back on the counter.

“What’s your damn point?”

“That it really doesn’t matter, and that I don’t care that we’ve had to replace pretty much everything in this kitchen since I moved in.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Not everything. You owe me a plate now.”

“You know, maybe we should invest in plastic ones.”

“We are adults Sam! And it’s not good for the environment.”

“And the current… situation is not good for your bank account!”

“Just because you’re used to plastic cutlery.” Kind of a cheap shot, but you’re still mad. You’d gathered he’d done jail time, but you didn’t dare ask what for, or how long. You caught him saying weird things sometimes and eventually realised it was because his concept of time was a little warped. He kept referring to the 90’s like it was only last week, instead of nearly 20 years ago.

Sam just laughed at your plastic cutlery comment, not at all offended. “Yeah, and I like living here so much I’m willing to do that if it means you’ll stop beating yourself up.”

“I’ll think about it.” You grumbled. But you got some plastic cups and plates on your way home from work the next day. Sam was right, it was a lot better, though it made you feel like a kid again.

As you’d gotten more comfortable with Sam you’d given up trying to hide the fact you were a walking health hazard and didn’t stifle your curses anymore.

At first he seemed amused by your clumsiness, he even laughed the first few times you did something stupid. But he quickly realised how upsetting your lack of control over your own limbs was for you, because it happened so damn often. He stopped making fun as soon as he noticed you couldn’t laugh it off with him. It wasn’t a joke to you. From then on he’d been surprisingly nice, he always attempted to make you feel better when it got too much.

***

Even so, right now as you were having a stand-off with him in the hallway, you gritted your teeth and tried to keep your voice even. Stay calm, he’s just concerned. “Yes, again.”

“What did it ever do to you? Y’know, standing there, being all wall-like…stopping our house from collapsing?”

“I lost my temper again. Punched the damn thing.”

He shook his head. “I’ve told you, you’ve got to look after those hands.”

“But they’re so fuc-“ You stop and sigh when he raises an eyebrow. Calm. “Flipping useless. I’m useless.”

“Not true.” Sam steps out of his room and walks in your direction. On the way he kicks a rogue sock back onto the main pile of mess on the floor. “Take that, you scoundrel.”

“I just wish my brain worked normally.”

“Your brain is fine. Your music taste on the other hand.” Sam moved his hand up and down in an ‘ehhhhhh’ motion and shook his head. “No no.”

He’s kidding, of course he is. Damn his sense of humour. But you don’t feel like smiling just yet. It still fucking hurts. “I think I broke something this time.” You really thumped the wall. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve actually done damage.

“You want me to check?”

“Please.”

You hold out your hand for him and he carefully wiggles and stretches your fingers one by one, watching your face for any reaction. You wince once he gets to your thumb. Oh, that one hurts the worst.

“No, thumb on the inside? For real?” Sam looked at you in disbelief.

“Apparently so.”

“That’ll learn you. That’s like rule number one of punching anything.”

You sigh. “Anything broken?”

“No, we’re all good. But keep your thumb on the outside next time or you really will break it.”

“Surprisingly, I wasn’t really focusing on technique that much. Oh hey, you should check this one again.” You hold your middle finger aloft.

“Very funny.” But he smirks at you, knowing he’s helping you feel better.

“Come on, you do that one to me all the time.”

“Learning from the best, what can I say? Oh, shit…” Sam’s staring past you.

“What, what’s wrong?” You glance back in the direction he’s looking.

Sam moves to the wall, right where you just punched and looks at you in faux-panic. “I need a medic!”

“Really?” You watch in amazement as he starts to do something to the wall which looks an awful lot like the chest compressions from CPR. Wow, he’s very committed to this bit.

“We’re losing them!”

“Sam, there’s barely a scuff on the wallpaper. I definitely came off worse.”

“I need a crash cart stat!” He yells at nobody in particular.

“Jesus Christ. You’ve been watching too many daytime medical dramas.” You just shake your head, but the corners of your mouth are threatening to twitch upwards.

“Have not…Beeeeeeeeeep! Aw, we lost them. RIP.” He finally steps away from the wall and shrugs. “I tried.”

“You’re such a goofball.” At least you’re smiling now.

“Hey, it worked didn’t it? Frown upside down.” He squeezes your shoulder. “You really did a number on that wall though, huh? I heard it all the way down there. Hell, I felt it. Made the stuff on the shelves rattle.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a bad day. A really bad day. People are assholes.” You glance down at the pile of laundry still littering the floor. “I should pick this up.”

“Do you have to right now?”

“Well, yeah…I was on the way downstairs to wash it.”

“I’m not sure the structural integrity of our house could take it if you had another…incident on the way to the washer. That wall’s concrete but you’re gonna end up going clean through one of the others. Then you’ll lose our security deposit.”

“My security deposit.”

“Right, right, right. That doesn’t mean you can punch holes wherever you like.”

“You could fix it though if I did?”

“Yeah, I guess. Y’know, I’ve never really asked you about it before, but talk me through it, what goes on in your head right before you flip out?”

“I don’t know, I just…see red and it happens before I can stop it.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s nodding. Bizarrely, he doesn’t look too freaked out to you admitting you pretty much go into berserker mode over minor inconveniences. “I know you can’t do anything about having 2 left feet, but you can do something about letting it get to you.”

“What, count to 10 or something?” You ask, mocking. Like you haven’t heard that one before.

“Yeah, seriously.” You get the impression he’s talking from experience. “It works, don’t question it.”

Screw it, he’s being really nice. At least he understands it’s not because you’re an idiot, it’s because your brain isn’t wired like most peoples. And he was right about the plastic plates. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“And you come tell me if this thing pisses you off again, I’ll deal with it.” Sam shakes his fist at the wall. He really is an idiot sometimes. But he does make you laugh. He’s your idiot.

“Gotcha.” You give him a thumbs-up with both hands, wincing again, the movement hurts.

He gives you a sly look. “How about you flex those fingers, and we play a game awhile. Crash Bandicoot maybe?”

“Again? I’ve got loads to do….” You fidget anxiously. you know what he’s up to though. Trying to get you to chill out.

“Just for a little bit. Scared I’ll beat ya?”

“Pffft, not even close, but I’m at a disadvantage this time.” There’s still no way he can win.

“I resent that, I’m getting pretty good.”

“You just mash the buttons.” It’s a fact and he knows it.

“C’mon, c’mon. I gotta at least beat your high score before I have to leave again.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’m in. Let’s go!” You nod in the direction of the stairs.

“Loser deals with that later on.” He points at the abandoned pile of laundry on the floor.

“Deal, don’t go easy on me.” You step around it and follow him to the sitting room. Even with a crippled hand you’re pretty sure you can thrash him. “Elena and I used to play this in college, wonder if she still has it…”

***

Thank you for reading!

Yeah…I am not just clumsy, I am more like ‘danger to myself and others’ levels of uncoordinated. But I can’t be the only one! Don’t worry, Sam’s got your back ;) Also the title is the song Big Fun from Heathers the Musical because once again it has invaded my life. The whole soundtrack has been on a loop for days now. I LOVE IT. Punch the wall and start a fight!

- Sam Drake and Elena Fisher belong to Naughty Dog/the Uncharted creative team and I (sadly) take no ownership of them.

- This work is not for profit though it belongs to me and I must be credited when copying or reposting elsewhere

- As mentioned before reader is intended to be gender-neutral so please interpret this fic however you like. This is my first x Reader fic published and first g/n reader viewpoint I’ve attempted so I hope I did okay. I myself identify as mostly female so that’s what I normally write because it’s easier for me to connect with. But this was fun.

#uncharted #naughty dog #sam drake #samuel drake #sam drake x reader #uncharted fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #no y/n #sam drake x g/n reader #sam drake x you #elena fisher #one shot #big fun #sfw #anger issues #no smut #hopefully just makes you feel a lil bit warm and fuzzy #roommate!sam

[kbim]

Every Hero Has Their End(SWF)

During hero training at U.A, Y/N gets a disturbing phone call from home. And Bakugou Katsuki is there to soothe them however he can.

Warnings: Death, Established relationship, Comfort

PSA: I will be trying my best to make this a Gender-neutral and Quirk-Neutral Fic.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103730/chapters/69066837#workskin

      I've found out that the world is the most peaceful whenever I'm training at school; Watching as my classmates shout encouragements to each other, and knowing that right now, we are all oblivious to the chaos and bloodshed happening outside of these gym doors. Oblivious to how fast heroes are losing their grip on what faith the public has in them, and since All Might has stepped down they are losing it even faster.

"Oi, dumbass. You just gonna sit there and mope like an extra or are you gonna let me beat your ass to a pulp?" And this was my favorite part, the unbreakable wall of angry optimism; Bakugou. When I looked to face him he had poor Izuku in a headlock and was practically dragging him on the floor, Izuku was muttering about some kind of suit upgrade or maybe it was All Might? With him, it's always one of the two. "Cause this shitty nerd won't stop holding back."

I quickly flipped bakugou off. "Ya know that you don't need to call everyone names, it just makes you seem more like a kid" As I walked up to the pair I peeled Izuku from Bakugou's grasp, letting him drop to the floor. "And haven't you bullied Izuku enough." I reached my hand out to help him up. As he held onto my hand I could feel Bakugou's glare, he always hated it whenever I did 'relationship things' with other people. Even though this was just me helping the beating bag up.

"Thanks Y/N" Izuku quickly quipped out as he started whipping the dust and dirt off of his hero costume, unaware that he was still holding my hand. I didn't really care, I knew it was just an accident but I could feel Bakugou's glare shift down to where we were touching. He quickly stomped over and grabbed my wrist, ripping ti away from Izuku's.

"Tch. I thought I told you to stop touching TRASH." As Bakugou pulled you towards him he made sure that the last word was directed at Izuku, making sure it came off harsher. Izuku took the hint and left, quickly finding his squad over the other side of the gym. I gave a soft wave in his direction, as I did I could hear Bakugou huff and puff.

"You really need to work on your passiveness, I and Izuku are just friends. You know I have no interest in our class-mates." I patted his chest as I walked by him, going to continue my endurance training. Even though I was daydreaming and not really training, as I kicked at the rouble I made Bakugou came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. placing my arms on top of his I leaned into him. "And don't worry, the term 'Class-mate' extends to all of the other classes as well." That earned a small chuckle from him.

"As your boyfriend, I have the right to mark you as mine, AND to keep shitty nerds away from you." He moved his hands away from me and turned me to face him, as I looked up to him I spotted multiple spots where Izuku had hit him. I would never say it to his face but, Izuku isn't the little weak kid that he knew before U.A. "And anyways I really wanted to fight someone on MY level." At that his face morphed into a large smirk, he grabbed onto my shoulders and threw me to the left. I wasn't prepared for such a movement and landed on my side.

"Dude, WHAT THE FUCK?!" Leaning onto my elbow, I looked at him. "You could at least give me a god damn warning" He quickly stalked over to me and stood over me.

"Nah."

Well, what a wonderful boyfriend... If he wanted a fight I'll give him a fight. I leaned back and kicked my legs up behind him, which kicked him over my head. As my legs held their momentum I flipped over to lay on my hands, laying in a lower push-up position. As he landed on his hands he activated his quirk and flipped to land on his feet unharmed. I went to activate my quirk to push me onto my feet but I found myself unable to use it. When I looked over to Bakugou he was wrapped up in Mr.Aizawa's capture 'scarf'. I got up to walk over to the pair.

"Y/N, you have a phone call. And next time please make sure to silence your cellular device during school, it interrupted my nap." He handed me my phone, which was showing an active call from my mother. "Now please don't make me have to get up again"

As he turned and started walking away he let go of Bakugou and deactivated his own quirk. "THANK YOU SENSAI!" I pulled the phone up to my face and quickly greeted my mother.

"Hey Y/N, h-how are you?" I could hear the presentation in her voice.

"Um, I'm a good mom. Not to rush you but what's with the call during school?"

"*Sigh* Well, I and your father just got the news that..... That ..." I grumbled, she knew not to call me during class and this was just taking too long.

"What do you NEED mom?" Oof, that came out kinda harsh.

"Oh, um. I just wanted to tell you, that. Your brother was fighting a villain downtown, and that. . . The villain delivered an a-a fatal blow to his head. And t-that when the other h-heros f-f-found him he w-was pronounced d-d-d-dead on arrival."

I heard my phone hit the ground, and I could feel myself drop to my knees. I don't recall telling my body to do so but my hand slapped over my mouth as I started sobbing. This couldn't be true, my elder brother had just gotten out of hero school and was fighting with the pros. They couldn't have failed him like that.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As Y/N was on the phone Kirishima had walked over to me, scolding me for the 'unmanly' move I pulled on Y/N. Saying a true man doesn't attack like that. I didn't care too much about it, in the heat of battle, a hero does everything they can to stop the villain. He doesn't have to be manly about it, he just has to get the job done. As I peaked around Shitty Hair I could see you drop your phone and fall onto your knees. Tears were streaming down your face, I could hear the muffled sobs from all the way over here.

As I grabbed Shitty Hair's shoulder a pushed him to the side, with much less force as when I did it to you earlier. I couldn't control what pace I was going at but I felt my feet hit the ground as I ran towards you. When I got closer to you I slid onto my knees to slow myself down, it was quite effective If I must say.

"Y/N?! What's wrong? Why are you crying?!" I pulled you into my chest and reached for your phone. The screen was cracked but I could still see the call active. I brought it up to my face. "Who are you and what the hell did you say to Y/N?!"

"I-i'm their mother, and I-I h-had informed them t-t-that their brot-t-ther had d-d-died in combat with a v-vll--ian today." Oh Shit. I hung up the phone and wrapped my arms around y/n, they sobbed into my hero suit. When the others run up around us I tightened my grip onto y/n.

"As the class rep, I deserve to know when one of our classmates are in trouble" "Bakugou! What's wrong with y/n?" "Did they get hurt?" "Oh shit man" "What should we do? "What happened?" "Kacchan What happened? "I bet Bakugou said something to them." "Ribbit, I'll get Mr. Aizawa"

"Back the FUCK off, they brother just fucking died man." y/n tensed up and started sobbing louder. I followed my brow and squeezed them. "Shit" I moved you to rest against my chest sideways and moved my arm to hold your bridal style. I stood up and pushed through the extras and made my way towards the gym doors. I could feel their tears soaking my suit, they gripped and released the loose cloth as a stepped through the doors. I could hear the others call after me but I had to intention of stopping for them.

When I got up from my room at the dorms and placed them down onto the bed. As I laid down next to them I covered us both with the blankets.

#mha bakugou #bakugou #bakugou bnha #katsuki bakugō #katsuki x female reader #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x reader

[where-fading-princesses-live]

double standards

So I was watching this very interesting video last night...  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Di_R6Md-L80

And around 6:43, he talks about the classic Mary Sue trope and how, if you have a male character in a work of fiction who is presented as equally perfect and free of flaw (in other words, a Gary Stu), the criticism is less harsh towards him, or in some cases, nearly nonexistent. Some might even say he's a total bad-ass and how dare you find fault in someone so impossibly cool? But if they're female? Good god, it's bad writing and anti-feminist. People seem to be generally way more accepting of male archetypes who fall under this trope than the likes of their female counterparts, hence double standards. You see this all the time in action flicks for instance. Arnold Schwarzenegger films, anyone? James Bond whomst??? But suddenly you have Rey who's arguably not better or worse than the likes of those characters, and yet, the general opinion of her is... kind of unfair. Understandable, nonetheless... I'm not a fan of her either but at the same time, I don't think we should judge her harsher than male characters who have similar treatments. Male characters like that shouldn't be excused. I'm not saying Stus are NEVER pointed out or criticized, but this guy does have a point. There seems to be a much more airtight scrutiny surrounding female characters of this nature and it might be due to internalized misogyny or ''something something quantum quantum...'' Granted, I don't think Stus/Sues should be a widely accepted overused theme regardless, and that should be blamed on poor writing rather than sexism. Whether male, female, both, neither and everything in-between, characters need to be well-written, well-developed, believable and nuanced and blah blah blah. I'm not really here to talk about that. What I want to point out is double standards. And yes, this is sexism.

Take Rick and Morty for example. I'm not going to get too deep into it, but the fandom seems to praise the shit out of Rick who can easily be labelled a Stu because as we're constantly reminded, he's supposedly the ''smartest man in the universe''. Now, when you create a character who is a self-professed genius and placed on a pedestal by the writers, it can definitely come off Stu-ish. It's not that Rick unrealistically lacks flaws... no, this man is LOADED with flaws, but the fact that he's a literal badass who can get out of almost any sticky situation... well, like I said, there's more to his character than that and I'm not going to get into it, but Rick rarely, if ever, fails. Sometimes there's moments of vulnerability and the fact that he keeps trying to change but just slips back into his old ways, that makes him much more 3-dimensional than a Stu... but you know, despite his narcissism, his sarcasm, his alcoholism and mistreatment of his family and his incapability of maintaining healthy long-term relationships, he still has a limitless ability to create, a superior intelligence level even when compared to higher lifeforms on other planets, enabling him to outsmart entire government organizations and civilizations spanning galaxies, well... you can see where I'm going with this. There's no person on this planet like that who exists irl, even among the smartest of history's greatest men. Yes, it's a cartoon, it's meant to be far-fetched. Yes, it's sci-fi so we're expected to suspend our disbelief. Yes, there's a reason for it. Yes, it drives the core of the story. But even if there's times where it seems Rick will definitely fail, he never truly has an ALL IS LOST MOMENT because the writers conveniently write him out of most of his troubles, because the series has to keep going (obviously). Basically, I never feel a real sense of danger when Rick is in trouble because I know he'll get out alive (if not, there's infinite amount of Ricks and infinite amount of realities to replace him-- not to mention he can replace his family members as many times as he fucks up which became the show's laziest overused point in my opinion). Rick's not a bad character. Far from it. That's not what bothers me.

What bothers me is his daughter, Beth. Okay, no, she doesn't specifically bother me. The way the fandom sees her bothers me. Now Beth is undoubtedly cut from the same cloth. You know what they say, like father like daughter. And yet... the fandom fails to recognize her as a potentially great character, just as equally flawed and brilliant minded as Rick. She's a genius horse surgeon in a failing marriage. (I will go out on a limb and say she's more well written than Rick *ducks from flying tomatoes*.) I mean, her story is literally almost the same as her father's, her flaws are just as realistic--in fact, she's probably more realistic because she's not the ''smartest so and so of the godforsaken universe'' which is just as bad as annoyingly cringey The Chosen One trope. She's just Beth. A terribly smart woman with abandonment issues and trust issues and all other kinds of issues, but you can't blame her given her upbringing. By no means perfect or good at everything she does. Or loved (or hated) by everyone or hailed a genius by the entire flipping universe. You can't even call her a Sue. Yet some of the fandom chooses to label her a b*tch for whatever reason... even though her characterization is near identical to D*ck, er I mean Rick (e.g. she drinks just as much when she hits an all time low). She's just as awful with just as many fuck ups yet she's more sympathetic due to the way Rick raised her (or didn't raise her)... yet there's a double standard because somehow, because she's a female, she's a worse character than Rick, who's a male and apparently awesome (brownie points because he's one of the the two titular characters so you *can't* hate him, it's against the law). If Beth were Rick's son instead of his daughter, I wonder if the general opinion would be the same or not. If Rick were a woman.... he would be Rey, now would he? Don't deny it.

Then there's Ed Edd n' Eddy. As much as I love praising the hell out of this show, I also like to crap on it. There's no shame in pointing out flaws in your faves. But this isn't so much the flaw in the actual show and the actual writing, but again, I'm taking a jab at the fandom and how they perceive male characters v. female characters.

Sarah. Sarah is almost exactly like the female Eddy. She's little and bratty and loud af. She's probably the most hated character on the show (even Jimmy and Kevin are more liked than she is). I used to not like Sarah either but I never really asked myself WHY. When I compared her to Eddy, I realized that they're literally, almost the same character and I have no real reason to hate her (yeah yeah a lot of the cul-de-sac kids share eerily similar traits to the Eds and it was no accident; it makes you wonder why the kids hate the Eds so much if they ostracize them for the very same quirks they have, and it's not just the scams--it's because kids at this age are terribly insecure about themselves and tend to make fun of more vulnerable others who share their flaws to make themselves feel better. I was bullied in middle school for acne by... wait for it.... kids who had acne. GASP. Imagine that. So my point is, we often despise traits in others we despise in ourselves, not to mention we don't perceive ourselves the way others perceive us, hence, the Looking Glass Self theory. Basically, EEnE is deeper than it appears on the surface, and I've analyzed this before during those EEnE Appreciation Month things, so I won't bother repeating myself, but that's the basic idea in a nutshell.)

Ahem, before I get off on a further tangent, let me reiterate my main point. Sarah IS Eddy. No, not really, but yes, kinda really. Her voice can be irritating and grates on your nerves at times, she's bossy and controlling of her friends (I honestly love her friendship with Jimmy, and how they both defy stereotypical gender norms, and how protective she is of him, but there's times where she pushes his buttons), and though she doesn't hold Jimmy back from finding his own independence apart from her the way Eddy sometimes does to Ed and Edd who he treats them more as cronies in the first season (for instance, Sarah doesn't raise objection to Jimmy joining the Urban Rangers and finding his own identity and making other friends besides her, I mean they don't have to be glued to the hip and she damn well knows that), and yet... the way she treats Ed... well... even if Eddy stands up for Ed against Sarah and grows increasingly annoyed with the way she walks all over him... Eddy ain't much better, pumpkins. DON'T ACT LIKE HE'S BETTER THAN HER. Sure, male characters *always* get excused for this kind of behavior, but if it's a girl, she's automatically a mega beyotch with no redeeming qualities. If she's a b, he's a b, and they both have potential to redeem their flaws.  They should be treated equally.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE Eddy. He's one of my favorite characters. OPE. And there's the tea.

Most people LOVE Eddy (not everybody, and if you don't, that's fine; you don't even have to like Sarah, but I have a case). Despite the fact that he's bossy, sarcastic, rude, selfish, self-absorbed, over confident, flamboyant, vain, screams with a voice that makes your ears bleed.... well, gee, didn't I just describe Sarah? Sarah loves make-up clothes and hair just as much as Eddy loves speedos and deodorant and cheap shampoo and dressing to the nines for Jonny's Arbor Day Party. Hell, Sarah had a complete meltdown because she lost her freakin' earring! Eddy flipped the fuck out when Ed lost his porno mags. THEY'RE. THE. SAME. FUCKING. PERSON. (and it's why they butt heads but that's a topic for another day, because you know, you can't fight fire with fire... you can argue the same for Eddy and Kevin)

Yet, the fandom HATES Sarah and LOVES Eddy. Probably not cuz she's female, but aside from the Kankers, the girls (and Jimmy, poor Jimmy) seem to receive harsher judgment towards them as characters by fans, even if they have similar traits to the boys. I'm sure it's because Sarah isn't as well written or developed a character as Eddy (who's a main cast member, actually the driving force of the show, the primary lead) BUT that's not to say Sarah doesn't have her moments of vulnerability or moments of total bad-assery that makes her.... well... interesting  if given the chance. (In BPS, she beats the living shit out of the Kankers and devises a plan for her and Jimmy to escape their enslavement, one of my all-time favorite scenes in the entire movie; not to mention she beats the crap out of EVERYONE on the show and it's usually, not always, well-deserved but it's entertaining nonetheless: cat fights with Nazz, even beating up Rolf who's twice her size, etc.). The fact that everyone is afraid of this little girl??? (maybe except Kevin). I mean, this chick is fearless, and yet, she still has moments of weakness. That's 3-dimensional if you ask me. She's more than just the bratty little sister. I didn't used to like her, but after studying her more, I've come to appreciate her. There's nothing about her that makes her an inherently ''bad'' female character. She plays a role, as do they all, and she plays the role perfectly.

Last but not least: Nazz. Everyone's favorite (I'm kidding). I don't know if the fandom hates Sarah or Nazz more. I can understand the hate towards Sarah, but Nazz seems even less just. Nazz is like one of the nicest people on the show and never really does anything to warrant the hate (until the infamous flanderized Season 5-- don't judge me, I love S5 regardless)... but even then she's still nice, if a bit artificially so. I mean, she becomes a bit of a Mean Girl (they all kinda do; it must be how the clique school environment changes a person), but she still goes out of her way to be inclusive towards everyone (even if she can be spotted in the background laughing at the Eds along with the others at times, but they're ALL guilty of this... ya'll out here lovin' on Rolf or Jonny or whatever, and pretending like they're saints, but they laugh at our precious Ed boys too. Also, precious Ed boys are not complete angels either and sometimes they need a good ass whooping or two. I mean, they're just kids. Kids are assholes). She's not a bad person though; she roots for all the contestants during the Spelling Bee. She personally appoints Ed to be the mascot of the football team. I can go on and on. She's just nice. Maybe that's why fans hate her. Because nice is boring. Nice is... personality-less. I don't think Nazz has as much eccentricity as the other characters, obviously, but she, too, has her moments (she yodels, for starters). She's not entirely lacking in personality. Sure, she may have as much personality as a board of wood (actually, I take that back, Plank has MORE personality than her XD) buuuut.... Idk, I like Nazz. I didn't at first either. But even if it irks me a bit that she's reduced down to the unattainable love interest and not much else, she, too, isn't an inherently ''bad'' female character. She has the least development of all the cast members, but she fills her role effectively. Without her, the show would feel like it's missing something. Even if she doesn't appear as often.

What bothers me the most is that she plays the same part as Kevin, only female. Kevin's the quintessential jock/bully popular leader of the kids, the King of the Cul-de-sac if you will (self-appointed or otherwise, just don't tell Eddy I told you). Nazz is like his Homecoming Queen, even if they're not an official couple (they spend the whole series as a ''will they or won't they Ross and Rachel'') and though not the leader of the kids collectively, she does sometimes lead the girls (or really, Sarah and Jimmy), while Kevin leads the boys (Jonny and Rolf, excluding the Eds). AND YET Kevin, though sometimes hated by fans, isn't nearly *as* hated as Nazz. Yet, he has as much personality as her (sorry, I love you, Kev). I mean, THEY'RE. ALMOST. THE. SAME. CHARACTER. Good looking, sporty, popular... He's also the least developed character of the male cast. Plank has more development than him and that's kinda sad... y'know... getting beat by a board of wood. (But Plank comes alive through Jonny, so basically Jonny is split into two separate characters; Plank reveals aspects of Jonny that he won't reveal to us, and vice versa. I can talk about Jonny all day, but let's not, because this is about Nazz.) I mean, again, Nazz and Kevin both have their moments of vulnerability and it's not like they're NEVER interesting; I beg to differ. Kevin, anyway, has two great episodes that revolve directly around his insecurities and anxieties and deep-seated fears, some deep shit I wish we got to see with Nazz. But instead we got BPS and it was hands-down the best character development we ever saw from her in the entire show's run. It's sad it had to be the end, because if they gave us more BPS Nazz throughout the series, she would have been a well rounded 3-d character.

Nazz is angry AF in BPS and I live for angry Nazz. We can kind of feel for her here because Kevin is such a dunce. She's finally reciprocating his feelings and he decides to turn the other way.... for his goddamn inanimate bike. It's something Jonny would do, but Kev always loved that bike... I guess more than Nazz, and it's one of the greatest love triangles ever. Phantom of the Opera don't interact. Ahem. My point is, Nazz finally displays more personality here-- like actual fucking emotion beyond just being nice and pretty (sure, we've seen her get angry sometimes, or freaked out other times, but never like this). Buuuuuut the fandom sees otherwise. They hated Nazz even MORE after this, despite that.... the male characters in BPS, like Rolf who punches through a tree and Edd and Eddy who go at it all piss and vinegar in an actual fist fight, are angry fucking men, and they're allowed to be angry and not Nazz because...? They have more testosterone and she doesn't? Because penises are more justified than vaginas? Oops, no, sorry, women can only be angry when they're on their periods, my bad. I mean, everybody's out in this freezing cold swamp, having a break down, at their wit's end, reaching their ''all is lost'' moment... yet, Rolf and the Eds are allowed to vent their frustrations on each other or on the surrounding environment. But not Nazz. No, Nazz is being a b*tch because.... Kevin's paying more attention to a non-living machine than to her. And he sat flat on his skinny ass and didn't help her when she needed him the most. And she didn't have to tag along with him but she did. She didn't have to put up with his cold aloofness but she did. And even if she was trying to catch his attention and flirt with him at inappropriate times she wasn't entirely useless. It was HER idea to find Eddy's brother. If she hadn't suggested it, he'd still be riding around in circles chasing his shadow. Yeah, okay, she's a total b*tch.

God forbid women have emotions. God forbid women cry or get frustrated. Then they're b*tches. But if they're pretty and nice and perfect and popular, they're Sues. Yet, male characters with the same traits.... get lighter sentences. No one even bats an eye. Boys will be boys am I right?

I can go on but yeah, don't say double standards are total BS. In this essay I will

#personal shit #eene #ed edd n eddy #rick and morty #feminism #mary sue #gary stu #nazz #sarah

[snelbz]

Lovely, Chapter 1 {ACOTAR}

A new joint project we’ve been teasing you with for months! @tacmc and I will be writing this mullti-chapter together. The posting will be similar to our last joint fic, Tending to the Fire. Just like TTTF, we will be alternating when posting chapters and there will be links on both of our Master Lists, so you’ll be able to read the whole thing, no matter who’s page you visit! The main difference from TTTF is the writing style.

Rather than trade off on writing chapters, every chapter will be written together. Whether that’s different POV’s, brainstorming via FaceTime, or literally picking up in the middle of the sentence the other was just working on, this entire story will be written as a team. We’ve talked about doing this for years and I’m so glad we’re finally getting the opportunity to make one of our dreams come true!

Now please, enjoy the first chapter of Lovely!

The sun was slowly creeping along the floor when Azriel’s alarm went off. As he rolled over to stop the incessant chirping, a small form stretched out from under the blankets and emitted a quiet noise of contentment. He lifted the sheet to see his small, black cat snuggling back up against his side. He gave the cat a light scratch on the back of her head and she opened her golden eyes a crack to look up at him before rolling over and snuggling back under the covers. Azriel laughed before throwing the covers off of the bed and standing up.

As he made his way down the stairs, he heard Nyx’s small paws hit the floor as she jumped from the bed and followed him, her bell jingling the entire way. The bell was an absolute necessity, seeing as the cat seemed to be made of shadow, appearing only when she wanted to. Reaching the kitchen, he scooped some food out of the bag and refilled her near empty bowl. She immediately set to devouring the food, the only noises her tiny bites and her bell clinking against the glass bowl.

As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he turned on the tv and mindlessly flipped through the channels, settling on a news station that was currently showing the traffic in Velaris.

One of the perks of owning your own business? You got to make your own hours. One of the perks of owning a tattoo parlor? Those hours were usually later in the day than most people. He never had to deal with traffic, especially since he only lived a mile and a half from his shop, but since he had some things that had to be done this morning, he’d be running around town and didn’t want to get stuck behind the accident that was currently causing a backup on I-24.

He decided to forego breakfast for a shower and headed back upstairs, still hearing Nyx’s bell ringing dully as it tapped the glass bowl. When he walked out of the steam filled bathroom and headed to his closet, he found her fast asleep in the same spot she’d been in earlier. His lips quirked up in a half smile as he dressed in his normal attire of all black, but rather than the hoodie and jeans he usually wore, he put on his black suit, with a black button down beneath. He gave Nyx a quick scratch behind the ears, much to her delight, and made his way back downstairs, stopping only to grab his keys and was out the door.

Sliding into the driver seat, he popped open the mirror and ran a tattooed hand through his messy hair one more time. He couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be different, that something monumental was going to take place. He didn’t know what it was, but he was going to be prepared for anything.

“Mr. Draeven, my client isn’t going to give up any of her days with your son, but is willing to give you an additional visit, supervised, of course, once every other week.”

It took everything in Azriel not to slam his fist onto the mahogany table before him. He lifted his eyes to the prick in the suit before him. It was designer, high end. The lawyer was clearly paid for by her father. Even with the ridiculous amounts of child support he paid each month, she wouldn’t be able to afford this man’s hourly rate on her own. Before he could say anything, his own lawyer spoke up.

“Azriel has done nothing but lost visits with Asher since Ms. Hamadi started this pointless custody battle,” Helion said, standing and walking around to the other side of the table, looking out the window at the Valeris skyline. He turned his back on the Armani clad man and Azriel watched as his face turned a bright shade of red. He had to stifle a laugh.

Azriel was absolutely lost in the midst of this custody battle, something that should never be happening if his son’s mother wasn’t hellbent on keeping Azriel from Asher. Helion had gone to high school and college with Rhysand and had become a friend of his own. If it wasn’t for him, for him being willing to take his case on pro bono, Azriel would lose any chance he’d have at time with his son.

When the papers has been served and Azriel didn’t know what to do, he called Helion and his friend immediately dropped what he was doing and was at Azriel’s home within minutes, looking over the papers with him.

She was trying to take Asher away from completely, no visits, no contact, on the grounds that he was unfit. Nevermind the fact that Azriel was a business owner, made charitable donations to the city, and actually had a job, unlike- unlike her.

Helion encouraged him to counter her, to claim that she was an unfit guardian. He knew she still went out and partied, spent most of her time at the bar, club or anywhere she could get fucked up. If she hadn’t still been living with her parents, parents he was sure were really the ones taking care of his son, she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.

Rhys told him what he already knew, that she was still out drinking and leaving with different men every night. He didn’t like using his best friend as a spy of sorts, but since he was a bartender at her usual spot to pick up her latest prey, he did what he had to to build a case against her.

That was how all of this had started, how he even had Asher in the first place. He’d been drinking at Rhys’ bar, enjoying a long weekend with his family. Her teal eyes captivated him from across the bar. He was drunk enough that he silently slipped away from his group of friends, new shots being poured in front of him, and made his way over to her. He learned her name and asked her to dance. He’d spotted them watching him as she ground against him, Mor’s eyes burning into his own, but he was too far gone to care. She’d asked him to come home with her after that and he agreed, deciding this was a one time thing.

He didn’t meet random girls at the bar. He didn’t let them touch him like he was letting her do. He didn’t go home with them. But he made an exception that night.

And it was only once. They were only together once, but they awkwardly exchanged numbers the next day as he fumbled to get his clothes on and get out the door. Both claiming they would call, both knowing they never would. Azriel thought he’d never see that mess of blonde hair again. But he was wrong.

She came into Rhys’ bar all the time, somehow not realizing that the bartender was his best friend. She even hit on him quite a bit, an invitation Rhys politely but firmly turned down. Azriel always made eye contact with her but never acknowledged her, and she never seemed to even act like she recognized him. He knew it was better that way. No strings. It was done and over.

Until she stopped showing up at the bar for a few weeks and then one day his phone rang.

She was pregnant. She was pregnant and she was sure it was his.

He’d been at Rhysand’s when she called, had stepped out to the back porch to take the call. He’d vomited his lunch up onto the concrete slabs. His family - because that’s what they were, closer than friends - rushed out and watched him, his skin white as death, as he finished the conversation and ended the call, slipping it into his pocket.

“She’s pregnant,” was all that he said, and none of them had to ask who he meant. They had all seen them together that night.

So began an extremely frustrating 7 months for Azriel. He wanted to be a part of his child’s life, but she did everything in her power to keep him out. He’d call her almost daily, to find out when her next doctor’s appointment was. She’d lie, tell him a bogus date and time, and he’d show up at the OBGYN, only to find out her appointment had been the day before. She’d just claim she’d gotten the dates mixed up. He constantly asked what she needed for the baby and she’d say her parents had it covered. When he asked about the gender, she went ghost. He couldn’t get ahold of her for weeks and he nearly went out of his mind. She even kept him from the birth of his son, only finding out when a mutual friend shared a picture on Facebook.

He never tried to have a relationship with her. He didn’t want one and it was clear that she didn’t either. But just because he didn’t want a relationship with her didn’t mean she could keep him from having one with his son, his own flesh and blood.

After his meeting with the lawyers, which she just happened to never be able to make, he headed off to his parlor. He pulled off the interstate and started through town, passing Rhys’ bar and his apartment. The open sign was on and he debated stopping in, not for a drink but just to see his friend, to tell him about the latest mess she’d caused for him. He kept driving though and when he was less than a mile from his shop, he saw a red convertible pulled over on the side of the road. The hood was up and smoke was pouring out of it. The girl leaning against the trunk with her head in her hands looked so downtrodden that he felt it in his soul. He’d had a shitty day, too. Maybe he could help someone else’s be a little better.

He pulled his truck over to the side of the road behind her. She immediately lifted her head and looked up at him. This wasn’t a girl. This was a young woman. And she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

His hand froze on the door handle and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. They were mesmerizing. Her hand fluttered to her chest and that small movement spurred him into motion. He hopped out and asked her, “Are you okay?”

His words seemed to snap her out of a trance of her own. She blinked once, twice and glanced back towards her car. “I- Yes, I’m okay. I was on my way back to work and my car just...stopped. It died.” She ran a hand through her brown hair, the sun bringing out the strands of gold. “I have to get back.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and Azriel’s eyes snapped to her lips.

“I can give you a ride, if you want,” he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, towards his truck. He saw the hesitation on her face and gave her what he hoped was a soft smile. “Or I can take a look at it, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Would you?” She asked, excitement ringing through her light voice.

“Of course,” Azriel said, removing his suit jack and tossing it in the passenger seat. He rolled his sleeves up, revealing the black ink that covered almost all of his body. He saw her eyes snag on whirls and swirls and made his way to the front of her car.

“I’m Elain, by the way,” she said, holding out her hand. He took it, shaking it once. “Better to do the introductions before you get all dirty.”

He laughed and nodded. “Agreed. I’m Azriel.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel. Thank you so much for helping me.”

He blushed slightly. “It’s no problem. I couldn’t very well drive by without seeing if you were okay.”

She rolled her eyes and a small snort left her mouth. “It didn’t stop the rest of Velaris from doing so. I’ve been stuck here for almost 30 minutes”

He couldn’t explain why that made him angry, so instead of responding, he began exploring her car’s engine. He wordlessly moved hoses and opened caps carefully, letting the steam out as slowly as he could. He saw the gaping slash on the hose and stepped back, leaning a hip on the fender. “Well, do you want the good news or bad news?”

Her face paled. “Bad. Always start with the bad.”

He nodded. “Your radiator hose is busted. Not a hard thing to fix, but you definitely won’t be driving this back to work. The good news is it’s a really cheap fix.”

She groaned, face up-tilted towards the sky. “Of course.” She glanced back down at him, watching as he carefully lowered the hood. “Is that offer for a ride still available?”

He smiled at her and opened the passenger door. Elain glanced at the height into the cab and Azriel raised his brows, understanding dawning across his features. “Oh, sorry. It’s kind of a climb.” He grabbed a rag out of the back seat and whipped his hands off. After making sure his hands were absolute clean, he glanced to her waist. “May I?”

“Oh,” she blushed. “Sure.”

His hands wrapped around her slim waist and he lifted her up onto the bench. He made to shut her door and she said, “My purse!”

“Where is it?” He asked, already stepping toward her car.

“In the passenger seat, would you also grab the bouquet from the back?”

His eyebrows rose. “Sure.”

Heading to her car, Azriel thought of the reasons she would have a bouquet of flowers with her. She didn’t mention that she was on the way to the hospital, so condolences didn’t seem right. Same for the cemetery, though it wasn’t too far from here. He tried not to think of the most obvious reason, especially with how heart-stoppingly gorgeous she was: that she had a boyfriend. As he opened the rear passenger door, it became clear that had to be the case. The fluffy mass of peonies and buttercups was so lovingly made he knew it had to to cost a fortune. Only someone who cared for another so tenderly would be willing to pay that much for flowers.

Opening the door and stepping up into the truck, Azriel handed Elain her purse and flowers. He suddenly didn’t know what to say. Not that the short conversation they’d had was stellar by any means, but it had been easy.

“So,” he began, starting the truck. “Where am I taking you?”

He mentally slapped himself as he realized how rude that sounded. It didn’t seem Elain noticed though, gazing at the flowers, adjusting petals here and there.

She answered cheerfully, “You can just drop me off at Nova Café. I was planning on stopping there for lunch anyways, and I can walk to work from there.” She looked up and beamed at him. “Would you care to join me? My treat, for the ride and for looking at my car.”

Azriel only blinked at her. “I don’t want to cause any problems.” Now it was Elaine’s turn to stare blankly at him in confusion. “With your boyfriend,” Azriel clarified.

Elain laughed, placing a hand on her chest and blushing. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Azriel turned to look at her. “I just figured- With the flowers …” he trailed off.

“Oh, these aren’t for me,” Elain said, awkward laughter causing her the pitch of her voice to raise slightly. “No, I’m just delivering them. I did make the bouquet though.”

“You made that?” Azriel didn’t hide the surprise in his tone.

“Yes, that’s what I do,” Elain laughed. “I’m a florist. I own Bespoke Floral Boutique.”

The name was familiar in Azriel’s mind, but he couldn’t pinpoint how he knew it. “That’s amazing.” A genuine smile graced his features. “Lunch would be great.”

Nova Café wasn’t far from his shop, so it worked out well. They grabbed a quick bite to eat and chatted, the conversation flowing easily between them. Before he knew it, he looked down at his watch and noticed it was nearly 12:15. Elain had barely made a dent in her sandwich.

“I have an appointment at 12:30, so I’m going to have to get going” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Elain had been taking a bite of her sandwich and covered her mouth as she chewed before asking. “Appointment? Are you a doctor?”

The incredulity on her face didn’t offend him, it just made him laugh. “Definitely not. I’m a tattoo artist.”

“Oh,” she said, understanding lighting up her brown eyes. “I can definitely see that. I don’t have any tattoos.” She lifted her arms up, showing off perfect, pale, creamy skin.

“Well if you ever want to change that, gimme a call.” He smiled at her as he stood.

Elain blushed but looked down. “How can I do that when you haven’t given me your number?”

Azriel’s eyes went wide. A blush began to creep across his face as well. Elain pulled a pen out of her purse and scribbled her number onto her napkin before she handed it to him. “It was nice to meet you, Azriel.”

“You too, Elain.” He gave a her a dazzling smile, and a wink as he slid the napkin into his pocket, before heading out to his truck and heading to the shop.

As he parked the truck and looked back to make sure it locked, he saw why her flower shop had seemed so familiar.

Across the street, in a building so unlike his own, hues of pink and yellow and orange contrasting the black and greys of his own, was Bespoke Floral Boutique.

Cassian had a love/hate relationship with the night before he went back to work for the school year. He loved the idea of getting his instruments out of the closet, cleaning them all up, and setting up his room for the months to come. He loved the excitement that thrummed through his veins when thinking about the hopeful students that would be walking through his door in a week’s time.

But, he hated that Summer would be ending and he couldn’t sleep in until noon or spend his days by the lake with his friends.

He decided to spend his last night at the bar, sitting alone, on his third beer, chatting with the bartender.

“Where’s Az?” Cassian asked, taking a tip from the cold, glass bottle. “Have you talked to him? I called about an hour ago. Never answered.”

Rhysand shook his head while he poured a dozen shots of tequila for the bachelorette party a few seats down. “No, which probably means it didn’t go well this morning.”

Cassian grunted. He hated that Azriel couldn’t see his son. The whole situation pissed Cassian off to no end. Azriel didn’t like to talk about it, though. None of them pushed him to talk about it, but they could see the toll it was taking on him.

“Maybe I should go check on him,” Cassian said, draining his bottle and tapping the bartop for another.

“Don’t,” Rhysand said, popping the top off another and placing it in front of his friend, his brother. “He doesn’t want to be bothered. Enjoy your last night of freedom.”

“You make it sound like I’m going to prison.”

Rhysand chuckled as he dismissed his friend to tend to a tall blonde at the other side of the bar. Cassian checked his phone. Still no text from Az, and it was getting late. He had to be at work at eight.

It was time to go.

After a brief wave to Rhysand and a quick chug of his beer, Cassian was hurrying out the door and was tossed into the bustling streets of Velaris.

Although a Sunday night, the city was still crowded with groups of friends and giggling couples captured by the beauty of the Sidra.

Cassian breathed in the fresh air, shoving his hands into his pockets. He had a high alcohol tolerance but still liked to walk to and from the bar, just in case. Besides, he didn’t live too far away from the building in which he spent most of his nights - at least the nights that Rhysand worked.

The stars were bright, shining through the quickly growing crowds. Typically, in the cities, the stars were diminished by the bright lights of the streets and the buildings, but not in Velaris. Cassian tilted his head back and watched as he strutted down the sidewalk.

“Watch it, asshole!”

Cassian felt it before he saw her.

His eyes darted down to his foot, which was on top of a small, heeled black boot. When he met the eyes of its owner, he cringed.

With eyes like ice, a young woman about a head shorter than him was glaring.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping back. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

“Obviously not,” she muttered.

She attempted to step around him but he followed her lead.

She took a deep breath as Cassian asked, “What’s your name?”

“Can’t your overly large feet take you somewhere that isn’t an inconvenience for me?”

Cassian grinned. “You know what they say about big feet.”

“They’re attached to idiots?”

As Cassian laughed, the woman once again stepped around him but this time, Cassian watched her go.

“It was nice to meet you!” he called.

She gave him a vulgar gesture before turning the corner behind Rita’s, into an apartment building.

Feyre didn’t even realize, as she picked at her boring salad, that she was tuning Tamlin out. Something about hearing him gloat about the major investment he secured at work for the thousandth time wasn’t as exciting to her as it was to him.

“Isn’t that right, Feyre?”

She jerked her head up, looking around at the table of his colleagues. His grass green eyes were boring into her own. She could read the annoyance in them, the aggravation that she wasn’t fawning over him like the other broker’s wives and girlfriends were. She’d been content to sit this dinner out, to stay at home and paint.

Tamlin had told her, in less than sincere terms, that wasn’t an option.

“I was just telling Dagdan,” he motioned to a dark haired man down the table, “that one more deal like this and there will be a ring on your finger.”

A year ago and that thought would have filled her with joy. A year ago and nothing would have excited her more than the prospect of being Tamlin’s wife. But things had become different between them lately. More strained. More tense.

He had begun to treat her more as an object than as the object of his affections.

The declaration drew her up short. “We’ve never discussed- Tamlin, I-.”

The woman sitting directly to Dagdan’s left, Brannagh, if her memory was correct, chuckled under her breath. The woman was near identical to Dagdan. Twin, sister, lover? Feyre couldn’t tell.

“Is something funny?” Feyre asked, setting her fork down.

Brannagh’s eyebrows rose and she looked like a cat that had just spotted a fat mouse to play with. Play with, before it consumed it bite by bite.

“Nothing is funny,” Tamlin interjected, quickly turning the conversation into safer territory. As they spoke about their work, Feyre again tuned the group out. She moved her salad to the side and began to pick out a piece of chocolate cake. She didn’t eat it, just mashed it to pieces and began to use her fork to make intricate swirls of icing on the plate. She brought the fork to her lips to clean it off.

The fork was snatched from her hand, the plate removed from in front of her before she could realize what was happening. She looked up to find Tamlin moving it down the table. His coworkers were all finishing up and it seemed as if they’d finally be leaving soon.

“What are you doing?” She asked, incredulity slipping into her tone.

“You don’t need that,” he said, and threw a brazen glance at her body. “You should probably start running with me in the mornings, too.”

That quiet chuckle from Brannagh again and Feyre was seeing red.

“Excuse you?” she whispered.

“Need to take care of your body, especially if we’re going to be getting married. I need you to look your best, baby.”

In a flash, Feyre was on her feet, glass of wine in her hand. And then...it wasn’t.

Then it was in Tamlin’s face. And his hair. And his crisp white shirt.

Without a word, Feyre grabbed her purse and walked out of the restaurant.

Her phone started buzzing before she’d even made it 20 feet from the door. She let it it ring and ring, surprised he hadn’t physically come after her. She continued to walk, trying to put as much distance between herself and the restaurant before he could decide to follow her.

It wasn’t long before the clouds that had been rolling in all day decided to finally open up and all at once, it began to pour. Feyre cursed and looked around, trying discern where she could go to get out of the rain.

A doorway was nestled into an alcove and Feyre saw the neon open sign was lit. She ducked inside and leaned against the wall.

She was drenched. Absolutely and totally drenched. Water dripped off of her dress and ran in rivulets down her legs. She ran a hand over her face and looked around. It was only then that she noticed she was in a bar. A completely empty bar, not even anyone behind the counter to mix drinks.

A glance at her watch told her why. It was 8:45 on Sunday night. Most people were at home with their families. Most people would be gearing up for the work week or ready for school.

The thought had Feyre walking farther into the room and sitting at the bar itself. She held her head in her hands and tried her hardest to keep the tears from sliding down her cheeks.

“I’m never one to assume, but I think you could use a drink.”

The alluring voice a few feet to her left startled her and she quickly sat up, looking in its direction. Violet eyes stared back.

He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked, quietly, hesitantly.

Feyre’s voice cracked as she whispered, “Please.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask what she wanted as he turned around and poured two quick shots of whiskey, a glass of Coke, and set them down in front of her. He picked one of them up. “What’s your name?”

She picked her shot glass up and said, “Feyre.”

He clinked his glass against her own and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Feyre. I’m Rhysand,” and tossed the shot back.

#lovely #tacmc #throne of ashes and beauty #throne of ashes and beauty x tacmc collab #acotar #acowar #acomaf #nessian #feysand #elriel #acofas

[prevaricatcr]

‹ TARON EGERTON, HE/HIM, CISMALE, BISEXUAL.  ›  ELLIOT GALLAGHER is the TWENTY SIX year old from SANTA MONICA, CALIFORNIA. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said,  ❝ MIGHT AS FUCKIN’ WELL, RIGHT? GONNA HATE MY LIFE EITHER WAY, MIGHT AS WELL DO IT WITH SOME SCENERY. ❞ they claim FUNNY GAMES is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would TAUNT THE KILLER AND GET WHACKED FOR IT. their fears include DRIVING A CAR, WRITHING SNAKES and PUPPETS, and they don’t know we know, but… HE’S PAID OFF MULTIPLE WOMEN WHO HAVE HAD HIS CHILDREN. hope they enjoy their stay.  ‹  MUSE A from HOLLYWOOD’S BLEEDING penned by, Z, 25+, CST.  ›

- - - - - - - BASICS.

Name: Elliot Rian Gallagher. Pronouns: He, him. Nicknames: n/a Age: Twenty-six. Birthdate: April 18th. Zodiac: Aries sun, taurus moon, gemini rising. Ethnicity: white, his father's grandparents were second generation irish and his mother always stated that her parents came from Sandusky, and didn't know more than that. Nationality: American. Birthplace: Santa Monica, CA Gender: Cis Male. Sexual Orientation: Bisexual.

- - - - - - - BACKGROUND.

Parents: Craig Robert Gallagher; 58 years old, alive. Teresa Dawn Shwitzer-Gallagher ; 52 years old, alive Siblings: 2 older siblings, a boy and a girl, and two younger sisters. Spouse: n/a. Children: 3 by different mothers, whom he sends monthly allowances to. He makes it his business not to know any more. Current Job: out of work musician. Dream Career: to be back on top of his game, winning grammies like he used to. Schooling: Attended Crossroads in Santa Monica on and off, eventually graduated with lots of monetary assistance. Income: Receives pay from royalties from the band he was in as a teenager that kicked him out.

- - - - - - - PHYSICAL.

Height: 5'8". Weight: 160 lb. Eye Color: Blue. Hair Color: Dark brown. Hair Length: Fairly short. Hair Type: On the thinner side, with some wave. Body Type: Fairly skinny, with small hips and waist. A little thicker around the midsection with his short stint of sobriety. Clothing Size: Medium to large. Shoe Size: Size 11 Complexion: Very pale, freckles fairly easy, burns very easy. Scars: scars and calluses on his hands, a puckered scar on his temple half hidden by his hair, and a scar on his right hip from a bad car accident, his knees are assessed as much older than himself because of how poorly he treats them combined with genetics, and a long scar on the left side of his back.

- - - - - - - PERSONALITY.

Positive Traits: adventurous, charming, direct, passionate, sociable, competitive, creative, lively, versatile. Negative Traits: volatile, extravagant, defensive, envious, juvenile, wasteful, unreliable, vulgar, pessimistic. Mental Condition: Currently drinking again and using cocaine along with a few prescription pills after attempting out-patient rehab and tapering down his drinking, which he's been addicted to since age fourteen. No officially assessed disorders or conditions besides his alcoholism. Struggles with intimacy while sober. Emotional Condition: Fragile, filled with guilt and self loathing after relapse. Sees trust as more important than love and is very guarded with what he considers his innermost self. Likes: All black outfits, sunglasses, a tall glass of boulevard when he's drinking to taste it, people that make him laugh out loud, old school SNL, the fine tuning of behind the camera work, treating the people he cares about to nice things, arguing about oscars prospects for any given film, penny slot machines, jokes that make people groan loudly. Dislikes: lazy jokes about addiction, late night talk shows, people who look at him and see his misdeeds and not who he is as a person, "lizard people" conspiracy theories, elevator music, plastic covers on mattresses, the concept of an all seeing, all knowing god, TMZ, the smell of industrial cleaner. Strengths: intelligent, ambitious, sincere, passionate, generous, philosophical. Weaknesses: reckless, impatient, cowardly, detached, foolhardy, irresponsible. Fears/phobias: sobriety, letting someone see every single part of him, allowing himself to be vulnerable when sober, having hallucinations, driving a car. Hobbies: little to none as his primary hobby has always been drinking, mostly reading and watching movies. Quirks: fiddling with his glasses, biting the inside of his cheek, humming any song that comes through his mind out loud when he's distracted or concentrating hard on something.

- - - - - - - HISTORY.

!!! possible triggers in the following biography: drug use, alcohol abuse and alcoholism, driving while intoxicated, car accidents, parental neglect of children !!! You are two and a half when you land your first commercial. Your younger sisters managed their first roles before you, but it was a little easier for them as they were infant twins; far more in demand than just a tiny toddler boy. This is how your family eats and keeps themselves in an apartment in Santa Monica that's meant to house three when your family eventually grows to hold seven in total. A lot of mouths to feed. Thankfully you don't remember a lot of this, as the small time work you and your siblings do is enough to keep your family afloat. You make your way into middle school; pissed and stand offish and looking like a cherub; which insures that no one takes you seriously. The friends you make, you hold tightly to, and you kick around in your best friend Boston’s basement, just fooling around on his parents drum kit, their guitars that aren’t actually supposed to be touched. It’s all just for fun, the band and the EP you slap together; just trying to impress each other, until one of Bos’ parents finds someone who wants to sign the band. Everyone tells you over and over again, that this is the deal of a life time. That this will make sure you work in Hollywood for the rest of your life. This is both true, and untrue. The EP is an unmitigated success, and every review has something to say about you, the kid on bass with backup vocals who’s face looks barely legal but plays like he’s planning a murder. Almost everyone remarks on how much older than your few years you seem. Which at first makes you feel special, important. Makes you seek out big words to use when you're sitting on the couch as a guest. The audience really loves that. Of course, this also spawns those times when you end up at wrap parties and after parties, your mother schmoozing whatever producers and execs she can find, your father nowhere to be found, and a sea of adults getting high and wasted around you. None of the vices of Hollywood have ever been all that strange to you, though. Your parents have always had a very blase approach to the innocence of childhood, and didn't much care to shield you from anything. It’s still all fun and games, really. The five of you have too much fun, and everyone wants to treat you to everything, so. Somehow the option you end up choosing most often is the bottle in your hand. The bottles that are so readily available, everywhere, that get pressed into your hands and put into the end of the night goodie bags your mother always takes three of. You think that waking up in an unfamiliar bed every single night of a week is something the rest of your bandmates are doing. It’s all a laugh, we all drink and we all smoke and it’s kid shit, right Boston? You learn that it very much is just a ‘you’ thing when you come to rehearsal (late, as usual) one Thursday afternoon and they’re all somberly waiting for you, hands in their lap and silent. You are being released from your contract with Cthulhu Rising...but the band has elected to move on and create their debut album. Unfortunately at this point you are eighteen and very, very deeply entrenched in alcoholism. The press has been playing you as a party boy who enjoys simple teenage excess for a very long time, but it's starting to wear thin. TMZ is growing a lot less glowing in their articles. You try not to pay attention even as you get yourself thrown out of clubs and tossed into drunk tanks and bailed back out again by whichever assistant your mother has hired this week. As long as you can find a way to make music, you can keep breathing. But with your growing notoriety, offers start to dry up. Those late night shows that loved your precociousness take pot shots at you in their opening monologues. Kimmel's pre-taped Lonely Island style sketch about 'you' endorsing a brand of gin in the style of I Love Lucy gets over a million views on youtube. All of Hollywood, and by extension all the world is laughing at you. It get a little less funny when you ram your matte black Lamborghini Aventador into the median taking the exit for Interstate 10, pinball off of it and into the car in the lane next to you, back into the median hard enough to flip your car into a roll, tumbling side over side across the lanes into the ditch. Your blood test results at the hospital show your blood alcohol content was nearly triple the legal limit. The accident doesn't kill you, though it's a close thing. You're convinced the recovery is worse. The total at the end adds up to a fractured pelvis, six broken ribs, safety glass embedded in your left temple, lacerations all over your arms and face, bleeding in your lungs and swelling in the brain that leaves you in a coma for the better part of two weeks. The most pathetic part of it all? All of that, the things you don't remember from that day coupled with the bursts and flashes of what you do remember, the year and a half you spend in recovery still isn't enough to make you put the bottle down forever. And doesn't that just make you fucking hate yourself?

#manor.tasks #! ; oof that took too long #❪ ⋅ ◆ ⋆ — YOU LOOKED AT DEATH IN A TAROT CARD┊❛ headcanons ❜ ❫

[fantroll-purgatory]

@theshieldswordandcrown

I’d like it if you guys could look over my tea man for me! (Art by my friend lythaeriahomestucks. I haven’t made him a sprite yet.

Oofadoofa it’s been a while. Hi I hope your roleplay group is fun!

World: Alternia, but the draft is a lot further off than in canon, because none of my group is interested in roleplaying interstellar space battles or politics, especially considering the amount of setup that would have to go into making deep space believable. Though I think Friendsim’s stated they’re dragged off planet at 9 sweeps, so he’d still have a little time before getting dragged underground anyway.

Name: Oolong Matcha. Yes, they’re both types of tea. It started off as a quick joke, but I’ve grown to love it. Not only is matcha green, like his blood, but he’s a gardener, and really enjoys tea.

Mmmmm I mean joke trolls are famously canon in Homestuck. See: SWIFER EGGMOP or the salt and pepper shaker troll BUTTT mmmm. I feel like naming a character based at least partially on Japanese monks Oolong would deserve some side-eye. But I like the matcha bit! So let’s see…I like him being a gardener since monastic gardens were very much A Thing, and one of the famous still-extant ones is at Rievaulx abbey, so maybe we give him RIVULX, which sounds sufficiently trollish and is obvious enough for someone to get the reference.

Age: 9.69 Sweeps, or 21 Earth years.

Theme/Story: He’s partially themed after monks, specifically Irish and Japanese, which was originally an excuse for his bald head, but ended up influencing his clothing, calm demeanor, and lusus. I was also, oddly, thinking of 4chan – not maniacs like /pol/, but just average people who don’t get out enough, like to chatter about anime or cooking, and generally act like a bit of a dipshit. Fatherhood is definitely a theme with him as well – he’s already a father figure to two other trolls.

Hmmm. I like the broad concept, but I think we can tighten up a little on the “monk” theme by expanding it. Review Goals: General overview, classpecting advice, filling in missing details like fetch modus or lunar sway, etc.

Strife Specibus: He greatly prefers to snipe threats before they reach him, but if he’s forced into melee, he’ll grab a pipe and go berserker nuts. He takes satisfaction in neutralizing threats, especially if he’s protecting someone or something. He’s not averse to talking things out, but dislikes putting others on the line.

Hmm. None of that is a strife specibus, though I suppose you’re going for riflekind and pipekind. Generally void players use fistkind since it’s the absence of a weapon, but if you want to give him another option besides hand-to-hand melee may I suggest poisonkind? He could use something from his garden, like monkshood :3c. Or if you want to give him a melee weapon he could use the sansetsukon per the 36th Chamber of Shaolin, which would double as a symbol reminder since he could arrange the segments in a backwards s. Fetch Modus: ;;3;; I have absolutely no idea.

What about a clue modus where the items are obscured but contain details describing them? With the caveat that some of them will have similar color/taste/textures listed. I think this might be fun because there are actually *two* famous detectives with the last name Monk, Adrian Monk and William Monk.

Blood Color: Jade.

That works great, especially with Friendsim’s reveal that many jades are indeed monastic/cloistered.

Lunar Sway: Not sure.

Given that he’s a monk and you have painted him as someone unlikely to cause conflict or rebel against the system, I think he’d be a Prospit dreamer.

Title: Knight of Void, someone who exploits what little secrecy and irrelevance he has for all it’s worth. He was first conceived as a Bard, to fit into a fansession, but I eventually decided it didn’t fit what the character had developed to be. 

Symbol and Meaning: I made it up, and it doesn’t have a name. It’s an infinity symbol, broken in the center - like this, but flipped 90 degrees clockwise. I guess it could tie into his aspect by…destroying infinity, I guess, but I really haven’t put that much thought into it.

If we’re going by the EZ, he would be Virittanius, the Deliberate. Which I think fits him quite well! It also looks like a further corruption of the sign you gave him, so I may toy with that a little in the redesign. Handle: I feel like I might have given him a serious handle at one point, but if I did, I forgot it, so for now, it’s oolongMatcha. Just his name. Considering his classpect and desire for secrecy, this makes about as much sense as a rain barrel made out of crackers, but I’m not sure what to give him.

Since his new initials are RM, maybe revenantMyiopsitta. Revenant, of course, to hint at the fact that he’s part of the blood caste most commonly associated with rebirth after death, and Myiopsitta being the genus for two types of parakeet: the cliff parakeet and the monk parakeet. So we have his true identity as well as the unusual nature of his hive, both concealed in plain sight. Quirk: he types in all lower case and likes putting his horns in his emoticons! ’:)  Maybe doing it like (:; would make more sense, as it’s his right (our left) horn that’s busted.

I like it! Depending on his redesign you may also want him to uƨe backwardƨ ƨ’ƨ to mimic hiƨ ƨymbol.

Special Abilities: Supreme Dadliness. Jokes aside, he’s a crack shot, even with his impeded vision, and has been successfully flying under the radar his whole life.

If you still want him to be a crack shot even with the changes I suggested above, maybe he uses blowdarts to poison his enemies from afar?

Lusus: His father is a MASSIVE white snake; I was thinking some kind of constrictor. Personality-wise, he’s close to a prototypical 50s dad. He’s a safe haven for his son and those his baby cares about, and is exceedingly patient, to the point of letting a small child fingerpaint on him. He’s also willing to carry Oolong in emergencies, though I’m not really certain that would work in real life, movement-wise.

I feel like the snake can be a little overplayed as a lusus. If we want to give him something similar to a mother grub as a jadeblood, why not a massive butterfly based on the monk/dusky friar? It also gives you the mechanics for how his dadderfly would carry him around in emergencies.

Interests: He used to spend a lot of time alone on the internet - I originally conceptualized him as a very lonely NEET, to the point he had to find his wallet to remember his own name - but has become more adventurous and friendly, spending more time with his girlfriend and friends (and he has friends now!) He’s very proud of his garden and fruit trees, some of which are rare, difficult to grow properly, and/or dangerous (offering more security).

Huh! You don’t explain *how* he goes from isolated to friendly, but I’d hope that gardening is a way for him to reach out to others since it’s a hobby you can commit to on your own but bond with other hobbyists.

Hive: He lives out in the woods by himself, though not so far from other trolls that he can’t take the day to go shopping or see his mate. His hive is surrounded by his garden on all sides, and has a very visible path down the center (making it easy for him to see anyone approaching, and shoot if they’re a threat). Trees surround it, and dangerous plants are strategically placed to make going through his garden unpleasant at best (it also makes weeding a pain, but he thinks it’s worth it). His hive is especially unusual in that the porch is raised up to the second floor with large poles, and you have to use a ladder to get up to it (unless you’re snakedad, in which case you go up the poles). He has a remote so he can let it down from the ground, as well as access to it on the platform, so he can let people up himself. I don’t think the ground level has a door. I’d be happy to submit pictures, if you want.

Feel free to show us pictures, but I like the concept a lot!

Appearance: Tall and rail-thin, excepting his oddly curvy hips. (I figured due to jades being majority female, developing jade males might be exposed to more than the usual amount of estrogen and androgens. Also I’m way more used to drawing women than men and his initial outline was a gal for like ten minutes.) He shaves his head bald. (This is because A) I didn’t want to bother trying to figure out men’s hair - I almost never draw dudes - and B) he’s partially themed after monks, who often shave their heads. I don’t remember why he says he does it.)

…man, I’m gonna take issue with the way you phrased this description. There’s a lot of gender essentialism going on in your explanation there, and given that a number of us mods are trans and nonbinary I feel obligated to point out a few things:

1) Trolls are bugs. They’re not even mammals. They aren’t exposed to androgen or estrogen or any hormone to give them a certain body shape. It is quite heavily implied that when the mother grub gives birth it is to a bunch of larvae.

2) I know that Homestuck lore has given us largely jade girls and one jade trans guy but that’s no reason to assume that jade men are broadly more “feminine” by default in *any* dimension

3) Even if trolls *did* work like humans, it rubs me the wrong way to see someone talking about a man’s “oddly” curvy hips like I’ve got guy friends both trans and cis with wide hips and the only reason to remark on it at all is because We Live In A Society that forcibly genders people in relation to physical characteristics.

…So I am otherwise taking your description at face value. ______ Matcha is tall, rail thin, with curvy hips and a bald head. I will probably add some little fangs, per the Alternian fashion guide.

He wears leggings (unless it’s very hot) and long tunics or robes, usually tan, with his symbol emblazoned on the breast. He goes barefoot if he can. His right (our left) horn is broken, due to an accident in his youth (I think he fell onto something?), amusingly improving his vision, since his unbroken left horn points in front of his left eye, obscuring it somewhat.  His face could almost be described as delicate, and his default expression is calm.

I don’t knooooow that tan is a color trolls wear all that often in Alternia, so I will see how I can rework that in the redesign. I get him being barefoot, but I may give it a shot spriting him monk shoes for if he wants to go on an outing. :3c For his broken horn…hm. When we see trolls with physical damage, it is almost always something more significant than just “childhood accident” (see: every troll in Homestuck except Equius who somehow had like 3 simultaneous accidents?). I have an idea for his horns that I will get to in the redesign, and I will probably add a hook to his front horn, both because it’s a jadeblood trait and because it seems suitably horrifying to constantly have a sharp implement millimeters from your eye.

Personality: Oolong is a nice, fatherly young man, well regarded by most he meets. He really really likes tea. He has a beautiful, dangerous mafiosa matesprite in a rustblood named Andora Ingenu, and they adore each other. He’s also taken on the substitute dad role for an adorable young fuschia who lives in the swamp near his forest, Lillie Waters, teaching her how to cook (and keep her tools clean) and rescuing her from other fuschias. He’s very protective of his and his loved ones’ privacy and safety, and spends a LOT of his time in the massive gardens around his hive, of which he’s deservedly proud. He is very good at being sneaky, and sometimes takes the time to run around seeing what he can get away with, especially in the realm of snatching seeds up for his garden. He sells whatever plants he can grow for money, especially fruits and vegetables, but he doesn’t really enjoy sales. He doesn’t put a lot of stock in blood superiority, but doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He’s oddly well adjusted for someone who spent most of his life alone.

I like this description! Also looking at his close compatriots, it looks like I can swap the tan in his design for rust or fuchsia. We already see jadebloods wearing a fair amount in the red/burgundy/purple spectrum, so it should fit right in with the others.

Land: I don’t remember if I’ve come up with one. If I did, I feel like it may have heavily wooded areas, dark and tangled and difficult to navigate.

Hmmm. What about Land of Rough and Reflection (LORAR)? Covered in rough terrain, with pools to contemplate oneself. Unbeknownst to your troll, there are switches at the bottom of each lake (deeper than he could ever hope to dive and hold his breath) that must be flipped to drain the lakes and free the consorts from the underwater caves in which they’ve been trapped for generations. His land would initially seem completely empty and without guidance, and it neatly parallels his own situation before he began to socialize.

I hope you like him! :) I’d love to see what you guys think of him.

He’s certainly an interesting troll, and I hope I’ve helped by way of sharpening up on his theme! Let’s move on to the redesign.

Top to bottom as usual!

Hair - I gave him some stubble courtesy of fan-troll (I have never managed a post without plugging fan-troll/tajazzled’s sprite sheet and I’m not gonna stop now)

Horns - I wanted to make his other horn sort of…curve away from his head so it looks like his symbol from above?

Eyes and brows - they didn’t change but big ups to fan-troll for giving me bases to modify!

Mouth - this is a modification of Sollux’s mouth but I gave him lil fangs and a little lower lip definition

Robes - I just modified some of Kanaya’s robes, appropriately enough! I decided to go for a red/pink shade that was between rust and fuchsia so he could fit in while subtly broadcasting his allegiance

Shoes - they’re John’s but with buckles! :B monk shoes

Aaaand that’s about it for my critique! I hope this helped!

-TR

#jadeblood #submission #oolong matcha #oolong #matcha #theshieldswordandcrown #rivulx #rivulx matcha #review #redesign #tr review

[stopforamoment]

May Angels Lead You In (8 of 12)

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three)

Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks

Word Count: 1,413

Rating: M for Mature (I’m sure there’s swearing somewhere or Rinda Parks says something completely inappropriate.)

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this.

Unfortunately this chapter is bogged down with the “get to know you” and set up details for later scenes. Even though it isn’t specifically mentioned in the chapter, this weekend brings up a lot of memories for Bastien as he introduces Henry to Drake and investigates the hidden passage in the library. Bastien is reminded of the Walker family inviting him into their home, the kindness of Liam’s mother, her assassination, and the death of Jackson Walker. Meanwhile Rinda is always balancing her role as mother and widow. She has her own triggers and Henry often mentions Jameson, which cuts her to the core, but she always has to bravely smile and encourage Henry to keep remembering his father.

Ear Worm and Inspiration: The Jimmy Eat World song “Hear You Me”  is a tribute to sisters who were killed in a car accident. They were generous women who would open their home to band members who needed a place to stay. More info here.

Summary: Henry meets Drake and spends more time with Bastien. Rinda gets her research geek on in the archives.

And now, finally . . .

Bastien and Drake were waiting for Rinda and Henry when they got downstairs that morning, and Drake immediately walked over to Henry and reached out his hand. “Hey, you must be Henry. I’m Drake. Drake Walker.”

Henry shook Drake’s hand. “Hi Mr. Walker. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Heh. You can just call me Drake. I’m okay with that.” Then he turned to Rinda and they gave each other a shy smile before shaking hands. Rinda spoke first. “Um, Rinda Parks. It’s nice to meet you . . . again.” Then she nodded towards Henry and leaned in to whisper “We can talk more later, but I’m sorry we met like that.” Drake released her hand and put it behind his neck, an embarrassed habit that Rinda noticed. The mom in her wanted to give him a big hug and tousle his already messy brown hair.

. . . . .

When they got outside Rinda made it clear that she absolutely sucked at football so she would hang back and watch to get some tips, but otherwise she would just run around and be the cheerleader. Unfortunately for Rinda, Drake refused. “Heh. I lost my favorite spot because of you. And you can’t teach at a Cordonian school and not be decent at football. You’re doing drills with Henry.”

Bastien laughed. “Drake is right, Rinda. It’s the only way you’ll get any better. If there’s any hope of that . . .”

Drake was an excellent teacher and even Rinda was showing improvement. When she found out that he was half American on his mother’s side she mercilessly teased him about football. “Wait, so your mom is an American. A TEXAN. And you refer to ‘soccer’ as ‘football’?” Geez. Way to turn to the Dark Side. Seriously, you know what we’re doing right now isn’t football, right?” Rinda switched to a southern drawl. “Your Texas folk  must be madder than a wet hen.” Suddenly Drake ran toward Rinda and tackled her, easily knocking her over. “Oof. Okay. Okay. No more football jokes. Point taken.”

Bastien gave Henry some time to get to know Drake before he suggested they play a game of football together. Cordonian football. “Mom, do you want to join?” Rinda laughed and shook her head. “You’ve all embarrassed me enough today. Please let me keep a shred of my dignity. I’m going to watch for awhile, but then I have to do some research stuff. Mr. Lykel said he’d take you to the archives to meet me when you’re done playing and figuring out plans for fishing tomorrow.”

It was Drake against Bastien and Henry, and it got competitive really fast. Rinda was cheering them on, but when the guys took off their shirts it was her cue to leave. “Okay, okay. I see the testosterone is out of control. This is too much manliness for me to handle, so I’m out. Henry, be good and listen to Drake and Mr. Lykel. Or else.”

It was cute to see Henry mimicking Drake and Bastien, taking his shirt off and throwing it on the ground. It was also sweet to watch Bastien and Drake include Henry in the game. But when Bastien took his shirt off, Rinda was feeling a little more than a mother’s appreciation toward him. It was definitely time for her to get to work.

“Hey mom?”

“Yeah Bug?”

“So, we’ll meet you over . . . there?” He flexed his bicep and then turned his wrist to point toward the palace. Rinda shook her head at his cheeseball antics while Drake gave Henry a high five for his smooth move.

. . . . .

Rinda stood in the archives reviewing her notes before getting started. When Bastien told her that there was a man named Neville who was responsible for Kakos’ hire, she needed to know more. So far all she had was Neville Vancoeur, Future Earl of Cormery Isle.

Even though it was quicker for Rinda to type her notes, there were still a few things she preferred to hand write in her notebook. Rinda paused before adding to her list of topics to search.

Palace Library Floor Plan

Lennox

Rinda pursed her lips and shook her head. She should have asked for the name of King Liam’s mother, but it would be easy to figure it out. Liam. She bit her lip, the coppery taste of blood on her tongue. She remembered the French couple who were banned from naming their female daughter “Liam” because of gender confusion fears.

Then she flipped to another list in her notebook.

Check Cordonia’s LGBTQ+ history and support for children. Enough advocates and support in schools? At our school?

. . . . .

Rinda completely lost track of time and was startled when Henry and Bastien came traipsing down the steps eating ice cream cones.

“Stop! Oh my God, you have food in the archives. How did you even get that in here? Just. Stop. Go upstairs NOW. You’ll contaminate everything.”

Henry and Bastien laughed at Rinda. Her voice was muffled through the dust mask she wore, and she was frantically waving them away with white-gloved hands. “Verzieh dich!”

“Oh crap, Mr. Lykel. Mom’s babbling in German. We better wait for her upstairs.” Bastien nodded and they quickly retreated upstairs to finish their ice cream cones.

When Rinda finally came upstairs she gave them both a look of death. “Don’t EVER bring food near the archives, okay? A lot of the historical records of Cordonia are in there and the curator finally trusts me to look at stuff on my own. If you guys screw that up for me I will be livid. And where’s my ice cream?”

Bastien calmly handed Rinda a bowl of partially melted spumoni ice cream with a spoon. “Henry chose it. It wouldn’t have been so melted if you would have let us eat downstairs.”

Rinda glared at them both as she sat down and took the ice cream, but her resolved didn’t last long. She put a spoonful of pistachio ice cream in her mouth, relishing its sweetness. “Mmmmm. I love spumoni. Thank you!” She repeated the process with the cherry and then the chocolate before Bastien interrupted her, leaning close so Henry wouldn’t hear him. “Do you and your ice cream want some time alone?”

Rinda kept her eyes closed, still savoring the tastes in her mouth. “Mmmm. If you could just come back in 10 with a cigarette.”

“Just 10? I don’t know what you see in that dessert.”

Rinda snapped her eyes open and saw the devilish gleam in Bastien’s grey eyes. She laughed before setting her ice cream down. “Hey, this is actually important. Henry, can you please give me and Mr. Lykel 10 minutes to talk work stuff?”

Henry rolled his eyes but walked to the other side of the room. Rinda waited until he was out of earshot before speaking. “Rhetorical question, since you probably can’t answer this. Has anyone from the Royal Guard taken the palace library’s blueprints out of the archives?” The hair on the back of Bastien’s neck rose, but he calmly stared at Rinda.

She quickly continued. “Because of what happened last night, I was looking through blue prints and work contracts for the library.” Rinda gave Bastien a printout of document titles, and several were highlighted. “This is a list of documents that were catalogued in the Royal Archives, but I haven’t found the highlighted ones yet and there’s no record of them being out on loan, getting restored, relocated, anything like that. I didn’t find any electronic versions, either. It’s probably just a clerical or metadata error, or they aren’t being stored in the proper area, but I wanted you to know. Also, I cleared my computer searches in the archives, but obviously that doesn’t mean anything. Oh, and you’ve probably already done this, but someone could check for other notes in the Queen’s favorite books. I leave notes in my favorite books for the next reader, so she might have too.”

Rinda glanced at her handwritten notes. “One other thing, please. What’s a Code Locusta? Does it have something to do with poison?”

Bastien was reading the list when Rinda asked, so she couldn’t see his facial expression until he calmly stood up, that impenetrable mask in place. “Thank you for this. I want to take it over to Mara and let her know about your computer search. Should we all walk back together?”

#bastien lykel #ofc rinda parks #choices trr #a mother's love series

[iamsarsa]

BNHA OC stuff blah blah blah

Full name:  Sayuri Yagi

Nickname:  Power Angel Nickname origin:  Her hero name! Toshi once said she looked like an angel when they were kids, so she opted to use it in her hero name. (He was overly giddy when she tells him this.) Do they like the nickname?:  She'll never admit she loves it as much as she does. Titles/epithets: The Idol Hero.  Sex/gender:  Female. Age:  Early 30's  Place of birth:  Tokyo Race:  Human

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE Height:  5ft even. She is tiny.  Eye color:  Green Face shape:  Heart Shaped Distinguishing facial features:  a small Other facial features:  None Who do they most look like?:  She has a battered photo of her parents from back during the government trials, she can barely make it out - but she thinks she looks most like her mother. Left or right-handed?:  Ambidextrous. How do they dress?:  In the beginning of her career, her agency had her dress in very idol girl group esque costumes playing off the angel angle (heh). Lots of bows, ribbons, frilly skirts etc. Now that she's older, and has more control over her image, she tends to go for less constricting clothing, and flowy robes become more her style. When out of costume she tends to keep it simple. She's fine in a t-shirt and shorts/pants although she usually dresses it up with a pair of heels, but she l o v e s dressing up in cute dresses for Toshi. Nothing makes her giddier than seeing Toshi gush over her. She’ll come bring him lunch decked out in frilly dress, heels, socks, etc just to see him flip out. Any special accessories? When in costume she has a few, one being a halo she keeps above her head via her telekinesis. She uses it as a weapon in a pinch. She also wears angel "wings" that aren't actual wings, but she can use them to glide for short distances (think Mercy from OW) Because she can't wear her wedding ring while being a hero, All Might bought her a locket that she can wear with a picture of them both inside. Something they always carry with them:   She always has the locket Toshi gave her in lieu of wearing their wedding ring. On her cellphone is an All Might phone charm. Weapons:  She typically uses her fists or kicks because of her super strength, or the above mentioned halo. Her agency gave her a staff to wield as part of her ~Idol Magical Girl~ theme but she hated it and kept breaking it on purpose so they'd stop giving it to her.

Describe hairstyle:  A short bob, halfway to her shoulders, bangs parted to the right.

Natural hair color:  Light blonde Natural hair texture:  soft and delicate

Cleanliness/grooming:  She's always well dressed and clean, most people who've had encounters with her remark that she always seems to smell like freshly cut flowers. Miscellaneous physical characteristics:  She's got scars here and there, that she keeps covered up mostly. She has a beauty mark right above her belly button. SPEECH AND COMMUNICATION Pace of speech:  She's normally very calm and careful with the way she speaks, coming across as very easy going. Her voice picking up in pace and becoming more high pitched is a sign she's getting more emotional. 

Voice tone:  Light, and melodic. However when she gets excited it tends to get more erratic, it’ll get louder and more rough.  Accent:  None. Describe their laugh:  When in costume and out doing hero work, its a very soft giggle. When she's in her civilian clothes, or more specifically when she's with people she's comfortable with - it can be pretty obnoxious - loud and she always ends up hitting someone because she's flailing her hands. Mannerisms/demeanor:  When in her costume she comes across as very demure, and pure. She puts on a very idol-esque approach to dealing with the general public. In her younger days as a hero it was often very cheesy and cute behavior. She retains bits of this demeanor now that she's older, but she prefers to dial it back now. When she's her normal self she can be a bit more rough around the edges, and tends to talk with her hands. She has a tendency of overreacting, but immediately becoming embarrassed when she realizes she's being overdramatic. She unabashedly claims herself to be All Might's #1 fan when going about her day-to-day civilian life, and has damn near every piece of merch, so she can come across as overly fangirl. (She's just really proud of her husband, even though she can't SAY that, so she comes across as a crazy fangirl.) She does have a darker side, though it's rarely seen and only comes out typically when she's pushed to her limit OR her childhood is brought up. As a child, she was much more cold and reluctant to make friends with anyone. It was through Toshinori and later, her time at UA high that she eventually learned to be more of a warm person. That being said, that colder side of her still exists and comes out if she's pushed.

Typical posture:  It's perfect, she doesn't ever slouch. Her training at her first agency made sure of that. Gestures:  She is the epitome of someone who talks with her hands. She's been knowing to whack people by accident, but has actively tried to quell that mannerism. (Not everyone is her husband who can take being whacked by someone with super strength.)

LIFE Current residence:   She lives with Toshi near UA High. Do they live with anyone?:   Toshi, aka All Might Where would they ideally live?:  She prefers warmer climates, but ideally, anywhere where she's with Toshi is her ideal place. She’s convinced him that when they retire and Izuku has taken his place as One For All’s successor, that they’ll retire to somewhere warm where they can both relax.

Any pets?:  None at the moment, because of their busy schedules as Heros, she and Toshi agreed they wouldn't be able to take care of any animals. (But both of them really really want pets of all sorts) Don't take either one of them near a pet store because it'll just end in tears and both of them consoling one another that "One day...." Current occupation? Are they satisfied with this?:  Hero. She's satisified with it to a degree. She loves being a Hero, and helping people. But she's becoming increasingly worried about All Might, and she longs for the day they both can retire and (maybe) start a family. General health:  After having tried to help All Might in his fight against All For One, she suffered a blow to her lower abdomen. While not as severe as All Might's injuries, (and not affecting her Quirks), she was told she may not be able to have children. Other then that she's recovered and is in pretty good health. FAMILY OF ORIGIN Mother/fathers’s name, age, status, etc.:   Unknown. Describe relationship with parents:  She's unaware of who they are, believing that they most likely didn't even know/love one another seeing as they signed up for government experiments and had her solely for said experiments. As a child she resented this fact, but over time grew to simply not think about her parents. She is worried about becoming a mom herself though - worried she won't be good at it because she never really had one. Any other caretakers?:  She bounced around from foster home to foster home. When she hit high school, she was allowed to live on her own while attending UA. (Financed by the government as continued restitution for the experiments done as a child.) Siblings:  None, that she knows of anyway. It's entirely possible she does, given the nature of her birth. Describe their ancestral history:  Unknown.

EMOTIONAL CHARACTERISTICS Describe their sense of morals:  As a Hero her morals are pretty black and white, but she also realizes that there are some villians who have, legitimate albeit skewed reasons for becoming Heroes. It's not that she thinks it makes their actions justified, she just realizes not everyone gets a fair shake in life. How do they act in public?: As a hero/Power Angel, incredibly soft-spoken, giggly, and demure. If she's out in her civilian life - she's pretty loud, and clumsy. She gets embarrassed easily from her own actions though.

How do they act privately?:  Same as her civilian personality. If she's alone with Toshi, she lets her guard down completely however and he's the only one who's ever really seen her at her most vulnerable. People may have seen her cry in anger, but he's the only one who's ever seen her truly cry in despair or anguish. How do they react in a crisis?:  When civilians are involved - she's perfectly calm and collected. She's known for keeping a calm, relaxing demeanor that helps solve crisises in a timely manner and keeps civilians at ease.

If someone she loves is at stake - all bets are off. She can keep her cool for a bit, but if you push the wrong button she tends to lose control. How do they view life?:  growing up she viewed it as unfortunate, she didn't really ask to be born, quite literally. After meeting Toshi, and once she enrolled in UA High and actually made friends, she realized that living wasn't really THAT bad. How do they view death?:  She doesn't like to think about it. At all, ever. Before All Might (and hers to a certain degree)'s brush with death, she didn't think much of it. But seeing him now, she's worried constantly about the people she cares about dying. What makes them happy?:  her most perfect ideal happy day is literally staying in bed all day with Toshi, and not getting out except for food. Just being with him and relaxing makes her happy, and seeing him not stressed. If she could laze around with him all day, she’d be in heaven.  What makes them sad?:  The thought of Toshinori dying, and the thought of being unable to have children.

What makes them angry?: If you bring up her past, she doesn’t like being reminded that for all intents and purposes she was created by the government to be a Hero, she doesn’t like the idea that she can’t escape some sort of mandated destiny. If you know about her marriage - don’t poke at it. She’s pretty self conscious that she’s not “good enough” for the #1 Hero, or even that she’s just not good for Toshi in general - she views him as such a good, pure person. It doesn’t help that it’s kept a secret, and while she knows its for the best - she hates keeping it a secret regardless. During her battle with Stain he managed to cut off her wedding locket, and when opening it figured out that they were married. He taunted her about it, needling her that All Might clearly just pitied her, and that she wasn’t good enough. (None of which was true, and when she told him later from the hospital he spent the next 10 minutes frantically reassuring her “HONEY, YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! WHAT THE HECK WHY WOULD YOU BELIEVE HIM!!!!!!” just exasperatedly flinging his hands around confused as to what he must have done to give her doubts.)  What humiliates them?:  HER PAST AS THE IDOL HERO. Her agency pushed the idol narrative hard, and it's lingered with her. Whenever someone brings her old CDs or posters for her to sign she'll sign it happily, but inwardly cringe. She'll sing live still occasionally but once off stage she'll throw herself into Toshi's arms if he's there and loudly wail about how embarrassing it is. (If he’s not there, he gets sixty two billion texts) (He comforts her telling her loves it when she sings, which is true - he has pretty much every piece of merch related to Power Angel and its not even because she's his wife - he just think she's the cutest fucking thing in the world. The cheesier the song was the be t t e r.)(They both try to out-fan one another, causing each other embarrassment.)

RELATIONS WITH OTHERS Who are their close friends?:  She has a few pro Heroes she considers close. She and Aizawa are fairly close, (All Might constantly asks her what he thinks of him and she refuses to answer) She and Midnight enjoy going out for drinks every now and then, (she goes to Midnight for advice on how to be ~sexier~ for Toshinori.) (The first time she put any advice to use, it took him a few minutes to calm himself down, he couldn’t believe his adorable wife could be like this.)(”She looks so sexy but she’s so goshdaRN CUTE. DAMN.) By far, Toshi is the closest friend she has though, it's why she married him. Sexuality:  Straight, First love:  Toshinori. Current love: Toshinori. People they dislike/hate: All For One, Villians in general. People who try and act as though she isn't a "real" hero because she used to be the Idol Hero. Stain managed to jump to #2 on her list (right after All For One) because not only did he manage to hit the "you're not a real hero" button, he also went after her marriage with All Might which is a big sore spot for her. MENTAL ATTITUDES

Any psychological issues?:  She has PTSD stemming from both her childhood as a test subject, and later from the fight with All For One. She's come a long way, and rarely suffers from flashbacks when awake, although nightmares do tend to pop up from time to time. Her fight with Stain however triggered an intense flashback, his bloodlust made her think she was back at the fight with All For One, and she was convinced All Might was dying in front of her again. It took most of the other pro Heroes that came onto the scene to restrain her until an ambulance arrived. She was forced to stay hospitalized for longer than she really wanted too after that, but realized it was for the best. Most of the time though, her nightmares can be handled.  Intelligence level:  She's highly intelligent - she goes out of her way to study hard however - not wanting to assume that her time as a test subject gave her any sort of higher intelligence. Self-confidence level:  She's not really... confident. About many things. She knows she's powerful, but not infallible and it worries her to know that when it really came down to it - she couldn't protect All Might in the battle against All For One and was more of a distraction than anything.

Optimist or pessimist?:  Optimistic, although it took years for her to get that way. Emotional or logical?:  For the most part she's pretty logical, when in battle. In day to day life she can be pretty emotional - which leads to her embarrassing herself. Dominant or submissive?:  She comes across as dominant in the field, obviously as a Hero. But personally, she can be a pretty submissive person. She only shows this side though to a select few people. Actually just one person.  Patient or impatient?:  Impatient. She will complain loudly if things arent moving along with a fast enough pace. As Power Angel she tries to keep this side hidden but she will start to get annoyed if other Heroes are taking their sweet time. Compassionate or self-involved?:  She comes across as compassionate, but she has a strong selfish streak. Namely when it comes to people she cares about. Greatest fear:  Losing Toshi. What is their greatest strength?:  Her optimism even in the face of danger. What is their greatest weakness?:  Toshi. Its part of the reason they keep their marriage a secret. Biggest accomplishment?:  In general, just becoming a Hero. Biggest regret?:  The fight against All For One. While she's happy she and All Might survived, she regrets being unable to protect him, or even just in general being more of a help rather than a distraction, or liability.

@matarukajas here u go :3c

#some of the formatting is funky but w/e #I WISH I HAD MY OLD HEADCANONS LIST BUT I CAN REWRITE IT TBH

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Bound By Chains - Chapter 19

Pairing: Eric/OC Fandom: Divergent Rating: M

She’s bound to a monster. And he has personality issues.

A/N: Thank you so much for patience. It’s felt like forever since I last updated this. And also a thanks to everyone who has helped piece this together, literally couldn’t be done without you! Tags: @dauntlessmetalmom @equalstrashflavoredtrash @badassbaker @red-diary @pathybo @murmelinchen @insertamazingwords @feminamortem @halefiresurvivor @suchlonelymuchsoul @elaacreditava @lauraaan182 @synnocence @jcause @glittergiirlgg @platitudinise @frecklefaceb @mimigemrose @sparklemichele 

“We’re doing well. Everything is on time.” The Dauntless soldier with the bad hair and multiple piercings adorning his ears, says to Eric. “Thankfully we are not too far behind,” He ticks something off his list. But Eric is elsewhere, gazing out ahead of him towards the trucks and warehouses. The concrete platform they stand on is perfect height for the delivery trucks to unload and gives a seamless overview of the state of affairs happening around them.

“Without the factionless it’s a lot easier.”

“Hmm.” Eric hums in response with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Same goes with the other factions. Amity had only requested medical supplies from Erudite which is being arranged for the drive back. Is there anything else you would like us to turn our attention to?”

“Make sure the materials for the new builds are here on time. I want it started as soon as possible.” With furrowed brows, Eric looks over his shoulder to the gathering of Abnegation being instructed by Wayne.

Sarah is there in her long jacket, scarf wrapped tightly round her neck and hood up. She’s speaking to the group too and Wayne is nodding. Her eyes dart to his unexpectedly and she smiles, dropping her gaze to the floor.

Fuck.

Eric shifts on the spot uncomfortably in this unusual situation. He will have to say something sooner or later. The voice of the soldier next to him brings his attention back and he dismisses him. “I’ll be checking the progress. That’s all for now.”

Pocketing his hands, he takes a huge breath and approaches the group which drop to silence, not daring to meet his eye, but Sarah does.

“You all have your orders. Do what is expected and we won’t have a problem.”

“Yes, Mr. Coulter.” A few mumble with their heads down. As they disperse, Sarah walks a few steps away and waits earnestly for him to follow. He checks around him before trying to find the right words.

“It’s okay, Eric. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Last night-“

“It meant nothing, right?” She stares out towards the deliveries being unloaded, only turning her head when he doesn’t reply with a shadowing of her usual vibrant smile. Eric’s jaw tenses and she feels a small pang of hurt at his reluctance to offer her any form of explanation. Not that she thought he would. “…I’m going to start showing soon. I already am. People will begin to notice.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“They won’t like it. Their leader with a girl from Abnegation?”

“What side of the bed did you get out of this morning?”

Sarah reaches out, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket that are pushed into his pockets and tugs slightly. “Can you promise me something?” The wind whistles over her voice, pulling hair from her bun and flipping the tassel end of her scarf messily over her shoulder. “Promise me you will take care and protect our baby? Even if you don’t love me.”

“Sarah…” He grimaces, rolling his shoulders backward and moving to face her. Removing his digits from his pocket, he softly caresses the small hand that’s frozen, the delicate fingers responding by curling against his own. “That’s not…”

Sarah shakes her head, “Don’t, Eric.”  Her voice only quakes through as a whisper. “Don’t. Just promise me.” The look she is giving is nothing he’s ever really come across in his adult life, maybe as a child, but not in years.– Disappointment.

“I will do what it takes.”

“And so will I. Just find it in your heart to love our child, don’t deny them that.” She’s already walking away, down the steps and following the Abnegation and Wayne towards the trucks.

More than anything, he now feels insulted and the great burden of guilt weighing down in his gut. Like he was completely incapable of fathering appropriately and done her wrong, yet again. Like refusing to profess his undying love for her would fuck up their child from the get go.

Parental love was different to a love formed between a man and a woman. Parental love was natural, unforced and there was no wait till someone finally decided they loved the other.

It was words, only stupid words.

This small woman always confused him, always managed to throw him unexpectedly from believing he finally understood the inner workings of her brain, to knowing absolutely nothing about her at all. He loathed it.

At the same time, he notices two Dauntless struggling with the door on the back of one of the Amity trucks and he kisses his teeth in frustration.

Want something done, do it yourself. He could use the distraction anyway.

“Sarah was good today.” Wayne offhandedly utters as he enters Eric’s office. “The Abnegation work well with her.”

“No surprise there. Where is she?”

“She went to lunch with them. She’s still there. I sent that Brad on an errand.”

Eric sits back in his chair, his lip quirking at the thought of Brad probably fearing Sarah more than anything. And so he should, he was lucky he didn’t gut the little bastard. “Okay, good.”

“She’s growing. I mean, because I know I’m looking for it. It’s not entirely obvious. Not yet anyway.”

“I’m aware.”

Wayne takes a seat, stretching his arms behind his head and bending his back, grunting in the process. “You nervous?”

“What for?” Eric huffs, growing impatient with his stupid questions.

“It’s a big thing? The responsibility.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Eric arches a brow to his Wayne’s unmoving form. “How are you and Mary getting along?”

“Haven’t fucked her.” Wayne sighs, puckering his lips. “She won’t. That ass is tight too, it’s always in my face.”

“Perhaps it’s time to look elsewhere?”

“Pfft, I’d have failed as a man.” Wayne scratches the side of his beard.

“She won’t you know.”

“But Sarah did.”

“That’s… different. We spent a lot of time together.”

Wayne’s grin is wide. “You mean, you made sure you spent a lot of time together.”

“Does it matter which way I had done it? It worked. End of story.” Eric studies the guy in front of him very carefully. “Are you looking for advice?”

“Man, if I wanted romantic advice, I wouldn’t come to you.” They both begin to laugh at that.

“If it’s marriage holding you back, promise her the world, say you’re intended, write it down on a piece of paper for all I care and be done with it.” Eric moves his hand and knocks folders from the desk. “Shit.”

“What’s eating you?”

Eric slouches into his chair, balancing his arms on the armrest and dipping his head. “I may have told Sarah I loved her while fucking. And then she comes out with all this shit about if I can’t love her, at least love the child.”

“You know what they say.”

“So, you really are a cunt in uniform.”

Wayne laughs. “As slick as the one sitting in front of me.”

“Touché.”

Wayne’s phone beeps. The smile on his face descends slowly and he whitens when looking up to Eric. “Uh, erm… Sarah has had an accident. She’s in-” The office door swings on his hinges, Eric already down the hall before the door closes behind him.

“Infirmary.” Wayne finishes.

“Yeah, that looks like love… that’s love.” He mumbles to himself, gathering the fallen paper. “He’s fucked.”

“I’m fine.” Sarah tells the nurse who is wiping the grazes on her thigh. The stockings that usually adorned her legs lay shredded in a pile at the end of the bed. “I caught myself.” She shows her hands which the boisterous nurse grabs, blotting them with gauze. “I’m not usually that clumsy.” She looks up to Stacey who smiles sympathetically from beside the door, but she’s mainly trying to tell the doctor who is also next to the bed on her other side, preparing for an ultrasound.

Self-dignity is gone with her dress pushed over her stomach and exposed to the room.

“You’re pregnant, Sarah. It’s a known fact that sense of balance is misjudged. We have to check.”

Sarah flinches at the cold gel spread quickly against her skin; the doctor already busy locating the baby.

“The floor was wet. I didn’t fall over my own feet…” Sarah says defensively.

“The daily risk of the Dauntless mess hall.” Stacey rolls her eyes. From out in the corridor Eric’s voice is heard and Stacey steps to one side as Eric enters, sending the door flying. “Mr. Coulter, everything is fine there is no need-“

“I’ll be the judge of that. What happened?”

“Apparently, she slipped.” Stacey cuts in before Sarah, leaving the Abnegation with her mouth open.

“It was wet and I was just coming back to the office. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

“I’m not worried about that.” He frowns at her stupid conclusion. “The baby?” He’s breathless, looking up to the screen.

“Is fine.” The doctor declares as the sound of the heartbeat echoes into the room. “Absolutely fine.”

Eric rubs his forehead in relief, stepping closer and caressing the back of Sarah’s hand. “You feel alright?”

“Yes, Eric.”

Stacey waves silently to Sarah as she leaves with the nurse behind her.

“I’ve been telling everyone I’m okay and nobody is listening.” But she’s lost him to the fascination of the screen and the whirling, water soaked sound thumping around the room. Now she sees the admiration on his face.

“Gender?”

Sarah hits his hand, frowning at how professionally he asks. “Is that really important right now?”

“Yes.” Eric tilts his head towards the doctor. “I want to know if I’m right.”

The doctor waits patiently, chewing the side of her mouth for minute. “As long as it’s agreed. You don’t want to spoil it.”

“Well, I want to know,” He says stubbornly. “Come on, Sarah.” Eric tugs her little finger, goading her to agree.

Sarah sits silently for a minute and Eric’s eyes begin to narrow at her in his impatience. To be fair she had no qualms about finding out whether they would be having a girl or boy, either way it wouldn’t make any difference what so ever. However, she just thought it wouldn’t be on a day like today and completely out of the blue. She imagined it scheduled and a building of nerves surrounding the appointment. But that wasn’t to be, fate had decided that all on it’s own. Another thing that was out of her control, much like everything else.

“Okay.” It was the first glimpse of excitement rippling off Eric and who was she to deny him? “I’m ready.” She exhales a shaky breath. “I’m ready.”

The doctor roams over the baby one more time before holding the image. “Congratulations. It’s a boy. A very healthy and content baby boy.”

Eric grins widely at the screen and Sarah notices the swell of pride ruminating from his stance. When he catches her looking, he automatically straightens himself out, inspecting the grazes on her legs. “You have to be careful.”

The Doctor makes herself scarce, gathering her equipment and nods to Eric in passing.

“Let’s get you home. That’s where you will stay for the rest of the day.”

“It’s just a bruise…” Sarah’s mumbles watching him bend down to retrieve her boots and carefully slides one on over her bare feet. With her face set in a sulk, Eric grabs her middle toe gently and pulls till she laughs.

“My clumsy little Abnegation.”

“How old is your daughter?” Sarah asks Clair who is busying herself on her computer. The pen pot on the desk she finds irritating, all the ends of the pens showing and none of the caps. Clair had weird habits she had only just started noticing.

She would have had the caps of the pens facing upwards and she twirls one quickly to disrupt the order.

“She is twelve.” Clair frowns, snatching the crooked pen and placing it, in her eyes, correctly. “Adriana.”

“What’s your boys name?”

“Jacob.” She clicks her tongue. “Nope sorry, the report hasn’t been sent back yet.”

“Oh.” Sarah really didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. Work had been going well in the past weeks and she was eager to know more over the progress of the renovations. “It was supposed to be this morning.”

“I’ll call them.” Clair picks up her phone, but stops when Sarah’s eyebrows shoot upwards and she hunches forward, touching her stomach. “What? What is it?”

“I think…” The fluttering in her belly is undeniably the baby moving. “…it’s the baby!” She bounds off quickly, opening the door to Eric grimacing over his work. “Eric!”

“What?” She floats over, grabbing his arm off the desk and putting it to her stomach. “Sarah, I don’t have-“ The movements ripple inside and she watches his face specifically in complete anticipation, waiting for the realization to kick in. Eric’s mouth parts in surprise. “…He’s moving.”

“You feel it?”

His other hand cradles till he possessively holds her. “I can.”

“I thought before I felt something but I didn’t think anything of it. You can really feel it?” She wiggles from side to side excitedly, peering at her ever growing stomach.

Eric manipulates her leg over his, pulling her onto his lap till they slot through the arm holes of his chair. Supporting her back, he soothes her by running them up and down her spine, holding her eyes. “When did this start?”

“Just now. I don’t know.” She mumbles, the smile on her face still unfaltering. “I’m not scared anymore.” She swings her feet, moving closer to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. Their lips touch for the briefest of moments and she can’t help but push her body more against him. “Come home with me.”

“Right now?”

“Mmmhmm.” She giggles as he immediately stands, holding her up as if she weighed nothing. Sarah’s teeth nip at his neck while he gathers his things, groaning at the warm mouth at his throat.

In her insistent distractions, he grips the back of her neck, kissing her roughly through the doorway.

The screeching baby crying throws him from his sleep. Eric’s body stiffens as he sits up, everything burningly braced. Through the darkness and some unnatural blindness, he reaches out to Sarah next to him, pushing her to wake her.

“It’s your fault.” She whispers with red tears pooling in her eyes when he finally finds her face. “It’s your fault!” When she rips the sheets from her body, the bed is saturated between her legs with blood.

The crying intensifies. The sensation of gravity lost as he leans backward to create space, trying his hardest to understand, his body not functioning how it would usually.

As he stumbles back off the bed, about to hit the floor, it changes to concrete, hard and painful as his bare torso smacks against it.

“Why?” A soft voice echoes. Eric’s head whips around till he gathers his bearings, quickly jumping back to his feet, fists balled and ready. “My sister?” Mary reaches out with a blonde lock of hair in her palm. The dress she is wearing black, and her face veiled but obviously her. She points behind him.

The light around them is blank and starkly white with only the concrete floor as distinction. There, Sarah lays with her hands neatly crossed on her chest. Pale, blue, dead.

“Sarah?” With one step he covers the distance, pulling her lifeless body up to him, trying to find the baby bump which is not there. “No.”

Logic begins to play. “I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming.” Throwing his hands up to his ears as he stands, clamping his eyes closed, “Wake up. Fucking wake up.” Falling to his knees, it’s not the baby screeching, but his own voice…

Eric startles, eyes opening and back in his bedroom once again. There is not a sound and his senses adjust quickly.

It feels too early to be awake, some time in the early morning. Swinging his legs from the bed, he rests his head in his palms, pushing them into his eyes and dabbing the sweat beading his forehead.

Sarah springs to mind and he turns quickly, only to find her completely asleep and unaware. With a deep breath, he forces himself back in bed, checking her over and flattening the hair from her face before lying against her. Pulling her body towards him and holding her tightly, she only hums, her body enticingly warm and he lets his hand scour across her stomach, feeling for his baby to help him sleep.

It was his first nightmare in years.

Come Sunday, Sarah waits for Mary in the Pit to arrive. This was a new routine so she could see the progress of her nephew.

Mary is grinning so widely, Sarah was sure her cheeks were about to split. “You’re huge!” They hug over her bump.

“I guess my body couldn’t keep it held in anymore. I am halfway there now…”

“Hello, Baby. I’m your Aunty.” Mary coos, leaning over.

“Stop it!”

“What! Remember, I’m seeing you week by week and there is such a difference!”

“I look fat.”

“You look like a fried egg.” Mary rests her hands on her hips.

“What?”

“A fried egg tilted on its side. The white bits all flat and skinny then just this big blob.” She exaggerates with her hands.

“Okay, Mary. Do not ever be a midwife or anything in the form of comfort to pregnant woman… ever.” Sarah peers down at her bump, secretly stroking it so no one could see and then stretching her cardigan over it. Mary’s face is frowning.

“What’s wrong with Eric?”

In the far corner with a platoon of soldiers standing by him, he’s watching them. The color from his face is drained and dark rings circle under his eyes. His deflated and agitated persona could be seen from across the room.

“I’m worried. I didn’t want to mention anything as I thought it would pass…”

“Let’s get you sat down.” Mary begins walking her to a broken concrete wall to one side, aiding her to lean back against it. “Now tell me.”

“He’s having nightmares.”

“And? That’s normal?”

“No, I mean really bad ones. He sometimes yells out and he can’t sleep afterwards. It’s been almost a week.”

“What are they about? Does he tell you?” Mary leans back on the wall too, watching Eric going about his business.

“They are of me.”

“All of them?”

“So he says. But he doesn’t tell me anything else.”

“Has he been to the doctor?”

“Eric?” Sarah scoffs. “He said he won’t go for nightmares. It’s ‘Stupid’.” She dusts the top of the wall next to her, keeping her eyes downcast. “It’s ever since he felt the baby move.”

“I think he’s afraid.”

“Now that is stupid. Eric… afraid?”

“I think he’s afraid for you.” Mary motions to where he stands, throwing vicious words to the men in front of him, his hands braced behind him and shoulders broad.

“And quite possibly of you.” Upon her sister’s words, Eric must sense them staring, catching them completely. A flick of his head is all that’s needed to know she’s beckoned.

It’s the way Eric growls and throws the covers off of him that disturb Sarah. Through the gap in the bathroom door he’s rubbing his face fiercely with water, swearing under his breath.

Sarah grabs her nightclothes and slips it over her head, hovering for a second by the door. “Eric, tell me what’s wrong?” She pleads, slightly exhausted herself from his constant disturbances.

“Go back to bed.” When he stands, he flips back the vanity cupboard next to the mirror, searching through pill bottles and different serums.

“What are you doing?”

“Did I not just tell you to go back to bed?” He spits through his teeth. Next, he runs his hand along the shelf knocking everything down. “It’s not here.” He mumbles.

“What?”

“Have you touched anything in here?” Eric turns his head only to glare at her.

“Why would I? I don’t even know what’s in there?” She takes a step back as he stalks towards her, grabbing the tops of her arms.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Eric, I have no idea what you-“ He shakes her suddenly and she lets a small whimper escape, tears tipping out from the corner of her eyes. “You’re scaring me.”

“Go. Back. To. Bed.” His voice strained as if he was fighting some inner turmoil. The violent essence of him shifts as he moves away and he’s quick to throw a shirt over his head, and then joggers.

Leaving without uttering another word.

“Mary, are you even listening?” John’s rubbing his head, massaging his fingers into the old skin of his temples. It was obvious he was suffering with another one of his unforgiving headaches. And she was glad; it was all self-inflicted.

“Sorry.” She reaches across the table, taking Thomas’s booklet from school and flipping through the pages. “I was just thinking about Mother. Is she still not feeling well?” She lies.

“She’s fine and in bed.” John says sharply, looking as white as a sheet as he tries to force a glass of water down his throat.

Mary knows he’s lying too. They had been fighting; non-stop for days. It was mostly over his drinking and unruly behavior. Of course, being their Mother, she was obsessed over how imposing his problems were becoming to their family and to everyone outside that were beginning to notice.

The girls at school had even asked Mary how her home life was going, worried for their family because of John. It was only recently he had to be escorted home by some of his old friends as he couldn’t walk, merely stumbling and he’d had the marks of his adventures on his arms from probably various tumbles he took beforehand.

There’s scampering feet along the floorboards upstairs and if smoke could wisp from her Father’s nostrils, they would be right now.

“I better take Thomas to school.” Get him as far away that she possibly could.

“Don’t be long. There’s stuff that needs doing. I want you to come with me to see the elderly couple next door.”

“I have school-“ She tries to protest.

“You have enough time to come back here and help me!” John shouts unnecessarily.

Mary purses her lips, swallowing down her clipped reply of how she wouldn’t have to if he’d give up the drink. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

Reaching the top steps, she detours to her room first before finding Thomas. She picks up her phone hidden beneath her pillow and finds one of the multiple messages she had sent to Wayne.

“My dad’s getting worse. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’ll pass.” The message vibrates in her hand only seconds later. “Can’t wait for Sunday.” Pings a second one straight after.

“Seems so far away.” Mary finds herself sighing before continuing further. “I wish you were here.” She bites her lip, almost regretting it, but that is how she felt.

It’s almost an eternity before he replies. “Me too.” That one simple message had made her day.

“You never told me.” Wayne throws out to Eric while punching the bags. He is however, a little cautious at Eric’s ferocity. The permanent darkened scowl on his face was telling.

“What are you on about now?” Eric hisses out between battered breaths, unleashing another round of practiced moves against the bag.

“I’ve had non-stop messages from Mary…” Wayne stops, steadying the bag and leaning up against a strut right next to them. His fists throb and he massages each hand vigorously. “…Sarah’s daddy is causing a stir. He drinks.”

There is a fraction of a pause that signifies to Wayne that Eric is completely aware. “I know.” The Dauntless Leader’s signature smirk graces them for a second.

“Why has nothing been done if you know? Mary’s going bat shit crazy over-“

“Because I’ve seen his file. I knew the moment I stepped foot in the house. He used to drink nothing other than water…” Eric ducks between his fists, tapping the bag again. “…He’s got permanent discolored pigmentation that not even a sober man could get rid of.”

“You the master of all body language now too?”

“No, but I know a drinker when I see one.” Eric exhales, letting the bag sway from his assault and content he’d let the rut of his frustration out for the evening. “I also knew losing his position in the council would affect him to the point of …” He hesitates, trying not to laugh. “…return.”

“Why do I feel there is more to it?”

“There isn’t. I hope her bitch of a Mother suffers at the hands of him and I hope he drinks himself dead.” Eric shrugs casually. “I don’t have to do much, just a tweak here and there and they’ll do the rest for me.”

Wayne frowns. “Mary is there though. Does Sarah know how bad it is?”

“If Mary is smart she’ll be fine.” Eric strolls over to his towel and bottle of water next to Wayne’s feet, picking them up and looking Wayne in the eye. “And I’m fully aware that you are now the only person who knows. Get what I’m saying?” Out of his gym pants, he pulls a small vial, tapping two drops into his water.

“I won’t tell Mary.”

“There’s not really much to tell. I didn’t really do anything.” Eric pouts, taking a swig.

“I get what you’re saying…” Wayne mumbles, trying to get his balls back and stop acting like a pussy. “I’m thinking of seeing Mary tonight.” He watches an amused expression fade in and out on Eric’s face. “…And I just need you to sign this.” A blue piece of paper is handed to Eric. The thing had felt heavy in his pocket all evening.

The smile on his face grows and he snorts, reading it quickly and signing without a care.

“Do you like her?”

“I don’t know. I just want to fuck her really. But I kind of like her, I guess.” They both turn for the exit, walking shoulder to shoulder and both peering out ahead or around them rather than each other. “I just want to see what they are like underneath.”

“Surprisingly, what they say is untrue…” Eric lets slip, taking another swig of water over his smile.

“What’s that? They are like rag-dolls? Or that they don’t believe in blades? Fuck man… don’t leave me like this.”

But ahead near the doors, Sarah waits. Wayne watches Eric’s attention completely dissipate and he looks hungrily over the small Abnegation, drawing in his bottom lip with his teeth. It only makes Wayne want to see Mary more.

There were similarities between the two sisters. He kind of wonders if he only wants to fuck Mary so he could just get a little glimpse into what sleeping with Sarah would feel like; however sick the thought was. But everyone around him was wondering the same. They all wondered what had got Eric so hooked.

It was the look though, he could tell that much from the distance at which he stopped and Eric continued over to her.

That look as she peered up at him devotedly. The way he almost looked smug leaning and gazing back down at her.

Wayne’s eyebrows furrow deeply, almost hurting with his mouth hanging open in thought. The realization hits him all at once, it was not Mary but really Sarah he really wanted. Just once… Though that would never happen, the closest he could get to her was her sister.

This should’ve been obvious to himself at the beginning.

With this in mind, he knows for certain he will see Mary tonight. One way or another.

It’s only just hit nine, straight out of the shower, and Eric’s already between Sarah’s thighs. Her stomach does nothing to put him off, at all. He fucking loved the definite bond they had between them, and how this was all his and nobody else’s…forever.

Fuck, he was a fertile man, what was there to lose his shit over?

“Eric…” She murmurs his name, and he moves quicker, high off the notes dripping from her tone of voice. “Eric, Eric, Eric…” That’s all he hears, apart from a sharp “Yes,” Every so often.

But even with a suppressor in his system, he feels it coming. Not the coming he wants. He tries to keep her nearer, to block it, to forget. His forearms slip underneath her arms and under her back, tilting her upper torso towards him and gripping the back of her neck, holding her closer. But he can see the image, flashing, trying to peel the sides of his mind open and drop into his line of vision. He can almost see the same pale tinge on Sarah’s skin, so he closes his eyes, trying to bar the image.

Dropping his head to the crook of her neck as he keeps pace, thrusting over and over, now more angrily then before, her pitch changes. “Eric! Eric, Eric, STOP!” Eric gathers himself to his knees quickly, shaking his head in his disillusioned state.

Sarah’s hands rub her shoulders and neck, wherever his hands had curled themselves and attached themselves to while lost in his paralytic world. “Sarah…I’m…” The snag marks from his nails, the crushed skin from his fingerprints immediately begin to redden and swell. “…I didn’t…fuck it. I…”

“It’s okay.” But it’s obviously not, as she hides her eyes behind the palm of her hands while her body shudders. She’s crying, silently.

Not knowing what to do with himself. Eric gets off the bed, slipping on his clothes. He takes one final look over the bed and Sarah’s pulled herself into a ball with the sheets completely covering her.

Contemplating on his next move, he takes a step towards her, but stops.

Eric decides to leave instead.

Something rattles her dream. Mary sits up suddenly, just as another clink hits the window. Rubbing her eyes, her already racing heart speeds up to something inhuman, coiling a tingling heat up her back.

At first, she thinks it’s just the wind, perhaps debris outside. Till she sees another small object actually hit the window this time. Instinctively she pulls her phone out, checking the five missed calls all from Wayne and cursing herself.

Straightening her nightwear, she pads to the window barefooted, pressing her hands to the glass as another flying object has her scare backward. Down, just below, stands Wayne smiling up in his Dauntless uniform and he beckons her with a hand to go to the front door.

“Oh, you have to be joking…” Mary whispers exasperatedly to herself. But it doesn’t take her long to be by the door and opening to his gleaming teeth.

“What are you doing here?” She hisses in a low voice. “Do you know what would happen if anyone saw you?”

“The Abnegation police will come and get me?” He chuckles, pushing past her.

“No, you have to leave.” When Mary reaches out for him, Wayne tugs her arm, colliding her against his body and using one hand to hold her face, hungrily kissing her.

“You look incredible…” He finally expresses, tilting his head back enough to look down her body. “And I couldn’t wait for Sunday. I had to see you.”

“We can’t talk here. Someone will hear us.” She grabs his hand, dragging him through the open dining area and into the kitchen, the door falls shut and this is where he tugs her to him again, not stopping his mouthed assault.

Mary is used to his vivacious kiss, the nip and suck on her lip and the travelling open mouth down her jaw and neck.

“Wayne…” She pushes his chest and he merely grunts in response. “Wayne…we can’t…”

“Lighten up, Mare. I got the papers. As soon as you pass I’m going to marry you.”

Stumped, she diverts her eyes, barely able to look at him. “You…want to…marry me?”

“As soon as we’re able, yes. What do you say? I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s what I want. Say you want it too…” He all but begs. “…say it.”

“I-I…”

“Mare…” He strokes her cheek, “It took me forever to get the nod.” His darkened eyes peer at both of hers. “You’re not having second thoughts?” The usual smiling face shifts to something none other than annoyed. “I came all this way to see you.”

“I know.”

“We can be together. Officially together and no one can say anything.” Dropping his hand into his pocket, he rummages till he pulls a pale blue Dauntless paper, crumpled and folded multiple times. “Eric’s already signed it off.” He points to his signature. “You just gotta sign. It means we are intended and when you pass it’s one hundred percent legit.”

“Wayne-“

“Mare…seriously?”

“I just think it’s a bit too-“ Before she can finish, he shoves himself away from her, running his fingers through his shadowing of a beard.

“So, you’re refusing?” Wayne’s voice gets louder and Mary motions with her hands for him to keep it down but he merely turns her back to her, peering into the lounge.

“I’m not outright refusing you. I need time to think it through. To really think it through. It’s so sudden… I think you better go.” Mary finds it hard to look at his slumped shoulders, watching him stretch out his arm and holding the door frame of the lounge till his shoulders pop.

“Mary, I love you.” Those three little words she’d wanted to hear have her silenced. She stares at him for a long while so he repeats himself, turning to her and cupping each side of her face. “I love you. I’m in love with you.” Wayne kisses her chastely, and this time she returns it, their movements slow and longing. “I want to be with you. Around you. Inside you…” He drawls in a whisper.

“You do?” Mary asks shyly, still caught in his gaze.

“I’m not used to feeling like this…fuck.” Wayne rubs his face with his sleeve. “I better go. I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to just say it out loud like that and fuck it up...”

“No, no. Wait.” She grabs the collar of his jacket, stopping him from leaving. “I…” Her voice trembles. Wayne watches very carefully as her nimble fingers work the top button of her nightwear, and gradually she pushes it off of both shoulders till it hits the floor, standing bare in her parent’s kitchen.

Wayne reaches out, lightly tracing her skin and breast, his fingers brushing her nipple as they reach her shoulders. Pulling her to the living room, she lies down on the couch stiffly, watching him remove his jacket.

“You sure?”

Mary nods.

The last thing she’s aware of is Wayne awkwardly clambering on top of her, his pants already abandoned. Fingers stroke her clit, his mouth by her ear, soothing her continuously. Out of nerves, she traces a crack in the ceiling, trying to let herself melt in to him.

Eventually, she closes her eyes.

#eric divergent #bound by chains #chapter 19 #beautifulramblingbrains #jai courtney #eric #eric divergent fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #divergent #insurgent #eric coulter #eric and sarah

[whiskeyworen]

Name: Tenna

Race: Asura

Gender: Female

College: Synergetics

Class: Holosmith Engineer

Allies:  Cyrus, Verula Faithbreaker, Moryggan Deralith,

Relationships:  Youngest of three siblings. Strained relationship with elder siblings Miriya and Sonnya due to personal experiments. No known relationships, though is close with all members of her team.

Weapons: Holosmith Saber and Alchemist's Shield. Has a pair of Alchemists pistols tucked away in hidden pockets for emergencies. Prefers using her battleharness with its Elixir gun, Grenade launcher and Siege Cannon mounts, though her Holosmith weapons are a delight.

Tenna is the youngest of her sisters, and perhaps the most unstable of them. She loves tinkering with things, as well as explosives, and while her skills are undeniable, she tends to alienate others with her outside-the-box lateral thinking. As tall as her oldest sister Sonnya, but as slim as her middle sister Miriya, Tenna had the unfortunate luck to be tall and lanky, even by Asuran standards. Her gangliness led her to be teased by her classmates, as well as naturally be slightly more clumsy, which earned her more derision. Even among her sisters, Tenna is still very different; with long hair the color of a deep red wine, she stood out from her siblings. A genetic quirk also flipped her skin tones, making her the figurative and literal black sheep of her family. They still love her, but in public other Asura secretly wonder if she's not of their family, and was merely adopted.

Sufficed to say, Sonnya has always managed to curtail those rumors, being the super-protective older sibling, but they still left their mark on young Tenna. Even as a Synergetics college student, she kept to herself mostly, with a small circle of friends and no actual Krewe to be part of.

Her skills with record systems and design philosophy were of interest to the Durmand Priory, who outsourced to her. A member of the Priory, she was never called on missions; her only job was to create and administer incoming data while at the same time maintaining her studies in the college. Being alone took quite a toll on her. Already edgy about being without a Krewe, she got to watch her sisters advance out of their respective colleges and go out into the world, while she was stuck in her dorm, sorting files and trying desperately to invent things that would catch the eye of the Council, or at the very least, one of her professors who might bump it up the line. Sleep was troubled, and paranoia set in; she became convinced she was so much weaker than her sisters that she was bound to die in some horrible circumstance. Whether it was a lab explosion or accident, an Inquest raid on the workshops, or the far-distant but ever present threat of a Dragon assault or something worse, her fears dug deep into her. That was when the sample rolled across her desk. A sample of tainted plasma from an unknown subject. Most of the data about it had been lost as it had bounced from lab to lab, but it finally ended up on her desk, a curiousity of the Priory. Examining it, she found potentially a solution to her problem. The blood contained a viral agent. Something half-magic, half-chaos, half-again actual virus. It was clear that whoever was infected was going to be in a lot of trouble if the virus kept up its self-metamorphic changes, but that didn't matter to her at all. All that mattered was that the virus also changed its host to suit it, to keep it alive. Stripping away the chaotic and magical aspects of the virus was simple. What was left was a crippled thing that still made genetic tweaks, but not in a fashion unmanagable. Things like enhanced strength, speed, vision... altered vision, neural modification to accomodate for those changes. It also had markers for more unique things. Like regeneration. A fully organic, non-necrotic regeneration. It wasn't long before she injected it into herself and began culturing more 'clean' virus in self-maintaining portable mechanisms. Oh, she got her wish; she was no longer weak. Not by a long shot. Wounds healed in seconds. Terrible injuries reset within minutes. Aided by an auto-injector, Tenna suspected she'd be able to regenerate from almost anything. But there was a price to pay, she found. For every injury she sustained, whether it was a cut, a burnmark, or what have you, she found herself getting hungrier. Normal food wasn't working; she could eat it and be fine, but it didn't scratch the itch. She didn't need to sleep as much anymore, but as the virus affected her, she found herself weakened again, drawn, and gaunt. Something was wrong. That was when an Inquest agent tried to raid her private dorm for Priory secrets. In a fit of fear and rage, she instinctively went for his throat. It was a horrible, terrible thing...but after it was over, she felt more alive than she'd ever felt. Was that the secret? Blood?

One quick body-disposal later, she'd checked the virus again, this time delving deeper into its structure. There it was; a marker for hemophagia, only slightly altered by her attempts to clean the virus. She couldn't remove the marker; when she tried, the virus just fell apart. It was the lynchpin. The original virus would compell its victim to seek blood to sate the virus. HER virus however, as crippled and damaged as it was, needed iron as fuel. For every injury she'd sustain, it would burn iron as a fuelsource for the regeneration, coopting the ATP production of her own body to accelerate the healing process. If she calculated right, she could lose an entire limb or more, and regenerate completely from it...but be left a ravening beast hungry for blood and meat to replace what she'd lost. At least...till she had enough. She could work with that. Easily.

By that point, a number of her inventions had come back from the Council, not with endorsements, but with strict warnings and heavy seals, Cease and Desists, and Edicts from the Tyrian Royalty as well as the Charr Imperator. Her ideas, her...weapons... were considered far too dangerous and heinous to consider. What could be used of them would be used, and she would recieve the proceeds, but her best items were under strict lock and key.

Again, that was fine. She could work with that. She didn't intend for anyone else to have her toys now, anyway. Not when she'd finally gotten the strength she needed.

She sent a note of sabbatical to the Priory, claiming 'personal issues', and left the College entirely. Already rumors were circulating about her, and the fact she hadn't slept in weeks by that point. It mattered little to Tenna. Nothing really mattered except she was finally free from her fear. It's unknown how she met the others of her group, but her contact with Cyrus is at least partially known. Both were associated with the Priory, so it's assumed she contacted him. Another outcast by choice, Cyrus agreed. He must have had some connections, because soon after Moryggan and Verula joined their team. Both seemed familiar with Cyrus, and had no issue with Tenna.

When the topic of her viral agent came up, not one of them balked. All three were outcasts of their own design, for lateral thinking, disagreement, etc. None of them were surprised or horrified by Tenna's experiment, or the price she'd pay for it. If she needed help getting meat and blood when she was low, it was just another thing that made Tenna...well... Tenna.

She had a krewe now. And for the first time, a place to belong. ---- (Notes from Me: When I made Tenna, I’d already made one of every job class. I had an extra slot and thought “Hmm...well Dhangalor is an Engie, but I kinda really specialized him as a Juggernaut Flamethrower. I wanna try out the other kits, but I don’t wanna retrait him.” Back then, retraiting cost money and time and stuff. It was before the trait trees permanently opened and stayed modifiable. So I decided to make another Engie. Choosing a race was easy; I wanted to make a demolitionist Asura. But the connection to Miriya and Sonnya... That took some thought. Initially I wanted to make a male Asura so I could keep the Male/female balance I had going. It was almost a perfect balance, but Sonnya threw it off by being one additional female. But the male Asura were just...ugly...to me. So I decided that my duo sisters were actually a Trio, and then made her. She looked exactly like them at first, until I remembered I had a Makeover kit that gives access to rare hairs and eye colors and stuff. So in a flash, gone was her chinese bun hair, her green eyes, and her skin tone that perfectly mimicked her sisters. In her place, I made the OTHER sister. The one I have grown to love because she’s so chaotic. Glowing orange-gold eyes, hair of Cabernet Sauvignon, darker completion.... Setting her story up was almost an accident. I was brainstorming for the other two, and decided that all three sisters had grown apart over the years, and that Tenna had gone through a personal breakdown crisis that resulted in her doing something to herself. When I came up with the viral infection in Maeva (who I have yet to post), I realized I had an opportunity to make a watered down version of the vampiric elementalist. Instead of being just vampiric, Tenna would also be intensely CARNIVOROUS as a result of her infection. I literally wanted her to be a cannibal, because... well, it’d creep her sisters out especially, and it made her an outcast, to be teamed up with other outcasts. It worked perfectly. Tenna in-game is a disturbingly powerful condi Engie who’s bombs, grenades, and siege cannon work phenomenally well. And when I found the trait that auto-calls an Orbital Strike laser... Oh boy, I SO had to add that to her story. That it’s a prototype weapon she designed that was kiboshed by the Council and others. That the Inquest can’t take it away because it’s too well defended in orbit, and they can’t kill her to get it because it’d wipe them out in retaliation. That, and after the infection, it’s now tremendously HARD to kill her. One of these days, I’ll commission someone to draw her, either casually lobbing an entire belt full of armed grenades, a devious, very toothy grin on her face, or in the midst of bloodthirst after a battle, armor shredded but wounds healing, and intensely HUNGRY for blood and flesh. Both images in my head are glorious. I may even commission a pic someday of her feeding more casually on someone who gave permission; neck nibbles kinda thing. If you’ve got close enough friends who are willing to do that, you treat them gently, and Tenna definitely would, if they were willing to give her a blood meal when she needed it. )

#GW2 #Guild Wars 2 #Asura #Asura Engineer #Asura Holosmith #Holosmith #Engineer #My Characters #tenna danae

[usnewsaggregator-blog]

‘Read me!’: Students race to craft forceful college essays as deadlines near

New Post has been published on https://usnewsaggregator.com/read-me-students-race-to-craft-forceful-college-essays-as-deadlines-near/

‘Read me!’: Students race to craft forceful college essays as deadlines near

Leslie Atkin leads a college essay workshop at Wheaton High School in Maryland on Oct. 17. (Bonnie Jo Mount/Washington Post)

Find a telling anecdote about your 17 years on this planet. Examine your values, goals, achievements and perhaps even failures to gain insight into the essential you. Then weave it together in a punchy essay of 650 or fewer words that showcases your authentic teenage voice — not your mother’s or father’s — and helps you stand out among hordes of applicants to selective colleges.

That’s not necessarily all. Be prepared to produce even more zippy prose for supplemental essays about your intellectual pursuits, personality quirks or compelling interest in a particular college that would be, without doubt, a perfect academic match.

Many high school seniors find essay writing the most agonizing step on the road to college, more stressful even than SAT or ACT testing. Pressure to excel in the verbal endgame of the college application process has intensified in recent years as students perceive that it’s tougher than ever to get into prestigious schools. Some well-off families, hungry for any edge, are willing to pay as much as $16,000 for essay-writing guidance in what one consultant pitches as a four-day “application boot camp.”

But most students are far more likely to rely on parents, teachers or counselors for free advice as hundreds of thousands nationwide race to meet a key deadline for college applications on Wednesday.

[College admissions edge for the wealthy: Early decision]

Malcolm Carter at a college essay workshop at Wheaton High. (Bonnie Jo Mount/Washington Post)

Malcolm Carter, 17, a senior who attended an essay workshop this month at Wheaton High School in Montgomery County, Md., said the process took him by surprise because it differs so much from analytical techniques learned over years as a student. The college essay, he learned, is nothing like the standard five-paragraph English class essay that analyzes a text.

“I thought I was a good writer at first,” Carter said. “I thought, ‘I got this.’ But it’s just not the same type of writing.”

Carter, who is thinking about engineering schools, said he started one draft but aborted it. “Didn’t think it was my best.” Then he got 200 words into another. “Deleted the whole thing.” Then he produced 500 words about a time when his father returned from a tour of Army duty in Iraq.

Will the latest draft stand? “I hope so,” he said with a grin.

Admission deans want applicants to do their best and make sure they get a second set of eyes on their words. But they also urge them to relax.

“Sometimes, the fear or the stress out there is that the student thinks the essay is passed around a table of imposing figures, and they read that essay and put it down and take a yea or nay vote, and that determines the student’s outcome,” said Tim Wolfe, associate provost for enrollment and dean of admission at the College of William & Mary. “That is not at all the case.”

Wolfe called the essay one more way to learn something about an applicant. “I’ve seen rough essays that still powerfully convey a student’s personality and experiences,” he said. “And on the flip side, I’ve seen pristine, polished essays that don’t communicate much about the students and are forgotten a minute or two after reading them.”

William & Mary, like many schools, assigns at least two readers for each application. Sometimes, essays get another look when an admissions committee is deliberating.

Most experts say a great essay cannot compensate for a mediocre academic record. But it can play a significant role in shaping perceptions of an applicant and might tip the balance in a borderline case.

[Top colleges put thousands of applicants in wait-list limbo]

Essays and essay excerpts from students who have won admission circulate widely on the Internet, but it’s impossible to know how much weight those words carried in the final decision. One student took a daring approach to a Stanford University essay this year. He wrote, simply, “#BlackLivesMatter” 100 times. And he got in.

Advice about essays abounds, some of it obvious: Show, don’t tell. Don’t rehash your résumé. Avoid cliches and pretentious words. Proofread. “That means actually having a living, breathing person — not just a spell-checker — actually read your essay,” Wolfe said.

But make sure that person doesn’t cross the line between useful feedback and meddlesome revision, or worse. (Looking at you, moms and dads.)

“It’s very obvious to us when an essay has been written by a 40-year-old and not a 17-year-old,” said Angel B. Pérez, vice president of enrollment and student success at Trinity College. “I’m not looking for a Pulitzer Prize-winning piece. And I get pretty skeptical when I see it.”

Some affluent parents buy help for their children from consultants who market their services through such brands as College Essay Guy, Essay Hell and Your Best College Essay.

Michele Hernández, co-founder of Top Tier Admissions, based in Vermont and Massachusetts, said her team charges $16,000 for a four-day boot camp in August to help clients develop all pieces of their applications, from essays to extracurricular activity lists. Or a family can pay $2,500 for five hours of one-on-one essay tutoring. Like other consultants, Hernández said she does pro-bono work. But she acknowledged there are troubling questions about the influence of wealth in college admissions.

“The equity problem is serious,” Hernández said. “College consultants are not the problem. It starts way lower down” — at kindergarten or earlier, she added.

Christopher Hunt, with a business in Colorado called College Essay Mentor, charges $3,000 for an “all-college-all-essays package” with as much guidance as clients want or need, from brainstorming to final drafts. He said the industry is growing because of a cycle rooted in anxiety. As the volume of applications grows, now topping 40,000 a year at Stanford and 100,000 at the University of California at Los Angeles , admission rates fall. That, in turn, fuels worries of prospective applicants from around the world.

[Stanford dean: Ultra-low admit rate not something to boast about]

“Most of my inquiries come from students,” Hunt said. “They are at ground zero of the college craze, aware of the competition, and know what they need to compete.”

At Wheaton High, it cost nothing for students to drop in on a college essay workshop offered during the lunch hour a couple of weeks before the Nov. 1 early application deadline. Cynthia Hammond Davis, the college and career information coordinator, provided pizza, and Leslie Atkin, an English composition assistant, provided tips in a room bedecked with college pennants.

Her first piece of advice: Don’t bore the reader. “It should be as much fun as telling your best friend a story,” she said. “You’re going to be animated about it.” Atkin also sketched a four-step framework for writing: Depict an event, discuss how that anecdote illuminates key character traits, define a pivotal moment and reflect on the outcome. “Wrap it up with a nice package and a bow,” she said. “They don’t have to be razzle-dazzle. But they need to say, ‘Read me!’ ”

As an example, Hammond Davis distributed an essay written by a 2017 Wheaton High graduate now at Rice University. In it, Anene “Daniel” Uwanamodo likened himself to a trampoline — a student leader who helps serve as a launchpad for others. “Regardless of race, gender or background, trampolines will offer their uplifting influence to any who request it,” he wrote.

Soaking this in were students aiming for the University of Maryland at College Park, Towson, Howard and Johns Hopkins universities, Virginia Tech, the University of Chicago and a special scholars program at Montgomery College. One planned to write about a terrifying car accident, another about her mother’s death and a third about how varsity basketball shaped him.

Sahil Sahni, 17, said his main essay responds to a prompt on the Common Application, an online portal to apply to hundreds of colleges: “Discuss an accomplishment, event or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others.”

Sahni showed The Washington Post two drafts — his initial version in July, and his latest after feedback from Hammond Davis. (It’s probably best not to quote the essay before admission officers read it.) During the writing, he said, he often jotted phrases on sticky notes when inspiration occurred. If no notepads were handy, he would ink a keyword on his arm “to stimulate the ideas.”

Sahni summarized the essay as a meditation on the consequences of lost keys, “how the unknown is okay, and how you can overcome it.” He said composing three or four high-stakes essays also had a consequence: “Every day you learn something new about yourself.”

Senior Sahil Sahni with Cynthia Hammond Davis, the college and career information coordinator, at Wheaton High’s college essay workshop. (Bonnie Jo Mount/Washington Post)

Original Article:

Click here

#college #craft #deadlines #essays #forceful #students